Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  Cranking on the engine, Riley slanted a cool gaze her way. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “I have to go back to my normal life at some point.” Amy clicked her seat belt and powered down the window. She needed air.

  Riley wheeled out of the parking lot, the sand crunching beneath the tires. He pulled onto the street and idled at the first red light, glancing into his rearview mirror.

  His gaze wandered back to the mirror and then he checked his side mirror. His hands tensed on the steering wheel.

  Amy’s pulse ratcheted up several notches as an engine roared behind them. She checked the mirror on the passenger side and gripped the armrest. A black SUV was barreling toward them. She braced her feet against the floor of the car, waiting for the impact. “What the…?”

  Riley cursed and punched the accelerator. “The guy’s coming right for us. And he’s not going to stop.”

  Chapter Six

  Riley gripped the steering wheel, held his breath and flew through the intersection, narrowly avoiding a minivan. Amy squealed beside him, jerking forward against her suddenly taut seat belt.

  The BMW hugged the road while Riley eased off the gas pedal. He checked his mirror again. The black SUV careened through the intersection against the light and lunged toward them.

  “Hold on,” Riley shouted. He grasped the leather-wrapped wheel and turned sharply, taking the corner at high speed and giving silent thanks to Carlos for his high-performance car.

  The SUV lumbered after them, squealing around the corner with purpose. A sick feeling lodged in Riley’s belly as the yellow school-crossing signs flashed ahead.

  Thank God the streets remained empty. School must still be in session. He sped through the crosswalk just slow enough to see the crossing guard’s mouth drop open. The SUV followed in his path, knocking over the sign with the yellow flashing lights.

  From his mirror, Riley saw the crossing guard shake her fist and reach inside her vest. That’s right, sweetheart. Call the cops.

  He couldn’t afford to be pulled over in a car that belonged to a dead man, but the inhabitants of that black SUV would have a lot of explaining to do, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if the cops found a few outstanding warrants in that car.

  Velasquez always employed punks to do his dirty work.

  Riley took the next turn, and Amy fell against his shoulder. “How you doing, beach girl?”

  She hunched over to look in the passenger mirror. “That’s them isn’t it? That’s Velasquez.”

  “I don’t know who else would be chasing us around town.” Riley planned to avoid the freeway—too much visibility. He could lose them faster in the side streets, and he knew just the area.

  Imperial Beach was always a little more working class than its glittery neighbors, Coronado and La Jolla. And it had the warehouses to prove it.

  Riley let the Beemer do its thing as he peeled out, reaching almost a hundred down a straight shot toward a collection of silver-and-dun-colored warehouse buildings. Trucks trundled in and around the buildings, delivering goods from the harbor.

  “Where are you heading? We’re going to get cornered.”

  “Do you think those thugs are going to try anything with a bunch of truckers around? Besides, I have a plan. I always have a plan.”

  The car hummed as Riley maneuvered it through two parking lots. He’d left the SUV in the dust a half mile ago. Would the driver have the cojones to follow him into this maze of buildings?

  A warehouse door gaped open in front of Riley, and he zoomed into the building, pulling the car to the side.

  Amy swiveled her head around. “Are you going to hide in here?”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s why.” She jerked her thumb toward the back window where a couple of the warehouse workers started to amble their way.

  “They’re not going to bother a couple looking for a little privacy.” He reached across the console, wrapped one hand behind her neck and pulled her close.

  Amy’s eyelids fluttered shut as she braced a hand against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her light touch. He weaved his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and brushed her lips with his.

  They panted against each other’s mouths. The adrenaline continued to rush through Riley’s veins at warp speed. He couldn’t distinguish between the thrill of the chase and the passion that pounded in his blood.

  Ah, hell. Sometimes they were one and the same.

  He possessed Amy’s sweet lips in a kiss so pure, it made his teeth ache. Chaste. Make-believe. At least that’s what he wanted her to think.

  She turned her head so that his lips ended up somewhere on her jaw. She sighed. He cupped her face for a repeat performance. She laughed. “It worked.”

  “Huh?”

  “Not only did our nosy, blue-collar workers back off, but we outmaneuvered the SUV. They won’t find us here.”

  Disappointment speared his gut. “They could still be lurking around.”

  “I don’t think so.” She twisted in her seat. “I guess that positive scenario you dreamed up is just that. A dream. They want me for something.”

  “Or they want me for something.”

  She clasped her hands between her knees. “Then maybe we’d better split up and find out who they prefer.”

  Riley’s breathing slowed down and he regained partial use of his brain. He wanted to keep Amy with him to protect her, but maybe the threat of danger hung over his head and not hers. In which case, her proximity to him would endanger her, not protect her.

  It all had a familiar ring.

  He had to cut her loose and allow her to get back to her life. There didn’t appear to be any logical reason why the Velasquez Cartel would be interested in Amy. She couldn’t identify even one of them. She’d demonstrated that in her report to the police. The police who didn’t believe a word of her story. They had to know that by now, had to know she didn’t pose any threat to them at all.

  “You’re probably right. I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have.” Riley buzzed down the window and gulped diesel-scented air.

  “You didn’t endanger me, Riley. That was Carlos.”

  “I’m not making your life any easier.” He turned over the engine and rolled out the other side of the warehouse, poking the nose of the car into the parking lot. He scanned the area, ignoring the grins of the warehouse workers. No sign of the black SUV.

  “I’ll take you back to my place and you can grab your stuff and I’ll drop you off at your car. I still think you should hang out with your friends for a day or two.”

  “I will.” She tapped her purse. “My friend left me that text message. I’ll let her know I’m on my way over.”

  Blowing out a breath, Riley sped toward the highway. He had to get rid of this car now that Velasquez’s guys had it on their radar.

  Twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building. His hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel as Amy exited the car. Every nerve fiber in his body protested at letting her go, but she had a life to live. She couldn’t spend it running around with him chasing bad guys.

  He made a habit out of pursuing bad guys. For Amy, this incident would be a blip in her calm life. Something to tell the grandkids about.

  His feet felt like lead as he tromped down the hallway toward the elevator behind her. They rode in silence, staring at the lighted numbers like a couple of strangers.

  She leaned against the outside wall while he fumbled for his keys. He asked, “Do you want something to eat before you head over to your friends’ place?”

  “I don’t want to be a bother to you anymore.”

  Riley shrugged, trying hard to mimic a nonchalance that he didn’t feel. Let her go. Keep her safe.

  They entered the apartment and Amy propped a hip against the counter, texting on her phone, the little beeps as she entered each letter reverberating in his head like a death knell.

 
He really did have control issues. He passed a hand across his face and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Water?”

  She looked up from her phone and hit one final button. “Sure. High-speed car chases really make me thirsty.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop—” she sliced her hand through the air “—apologizing. It’s not your fault, Riley. You saved my life on more than one occasion. I trusted the right guy last night.”

  And now he had to honor that trust and get her clear of this madness. “I’ll get your bag.”

  She trailed after him, the sweet smell of her hair giving him all sorts of crazy ideas. She made a detour into the bathroom and collected her things while he wheeled her suitcase into the living room next to the door.

  “I guess that’s everything.” She stuffed her toiletry bag into the side compartment of the suitcase.

  “Did you hear back from your friends yet?” He gestured toward the cell phone clutched in her right hand.

  “Not yet, but they’ll come through. They always do. I just sent a text that I was on my way.”

  “Let’s get you back to your car.”

  Amy ambled down the corridor, moving at half-speed. Could she be feeling the same reluctance as he felt?

  Riley kept conversation to a minimum on the ride back to Amy’s place. What more could he say? He pulled up behind her car and grabbed her bag from Carlos’s Beemer.

  She popped her trunk, and he hoisted the suitcase inside and slammed it shut for her. He rested his hand on the driver’s door handle. “I know you told me to stop apologizing, but I need to go there once more.”

  Amy shook her head and a swath of dark hair swept over her shoulder. “I think you already hit your apology quota.”

  “The kiss.” He blurted it out like a pimply faced teen. What had happened to his smooth lines? He swung open her door. “One of the many tricks of the trade.”

  He gritted his teeth behind his stupid grin. Now he sounded like a seventies’ disco dude.

  Amy raised her brows. “Okay, whatever. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  Now his grin was hurting his face. Not a big deal? “Right. I just wanted to make it look good for the guys in the warehouse. No big deal.”

  She stuck out her hand. “Thanks for sticking with me. I’m pretty sure I would’ve fallen apart without your support.”

  Riley narrowed his eyes. He seriously doubted that. Taking her hand, he swirled his thumb along her inner wrist. “Be careful, beach girl. You have my cell phone number in there. Use it if you need help.”

  “Will do.” She slipped her hand from his and ducked into the car.

  As she pulled away from the curb, he smacked the trunk of the car and waved. He’d cursed his bad luck when Amy came running into the ocean to save him.

  Now as he watched her take the turn and disappear, he felt as if a vital organ had just been ripped from his chest.

  AMY BLINKED AWAY TEARS as she watched Riley’s blurry form in her rearview mirror. She dashed a hand across her eyes. Buck up, girl. You operate better on your own anyway. Always have.

  She planned to put this little bump on the road to a normal, sedate life firmly behind her. No more married men. No more drug dealers. No more secret agents. She giggled at her list. Most women wouldn’t even dream of making a list like that.

  Most women didn’t have Elijah Prescott for a father.

  Amy’s cell phone buzzed and she groped for it in her purse. She checked the display and let out a noisy sigh. “Hi, Sarah.”

  “Amy? Are you okay? Your message was weird.”

  Weird? Amy had a few other choice words about her predicament. “You don’t know the half of it, and I don’t have the energy to explain it. Can I crash at your place for a few days? I’ll even babysit for free.”

  “Of course, you can stay here but we’re leaving tonight for Florida. Cliff’s mom had another fall. She’s not doing well, so we’re taking the kids back for a visit. It might be their last.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I can house-sit for you.”

  “Is it Carlos?”

  Amy caught her breath. “What?”

  “Is Carlos calling you again? Don’t go back to him, Amy. That’s a dead end.”

  Oh, boy. Sarah had never spoken truer words. “Going back to Carlos is an impossibility at this point.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, even though I never suspected for a minute you’d take him back. There’s a new attorney at Cliff’s firm. Maybe we can all get together for dinner some night.”

  Amy drew in a quick breath. If he didn’t have deep blue eyes, a boyish grin, a fondness for knives and a penchant for engaging in high-speed chases, she’d have to pass.

  “Maybe. I’m on my way to your place right now. Is that okay, or are you too busy packing for Florida?”

  “We’re done packing. You can join us for dinner and then save us taxi fare to the airport by giving us a ride.”

  “Sounds like a deal.”

  Amy ended the call and dropped her cell phone into the cup holder. She could always count on Sarah. Sarah had been like a big sister to her when she’d volunteered at Amy’s middle school to tutor at-risk kids. Sarah was the one who had gotten Amy involved in the San Diego County Junior Lifeguard program.

  Sarah had saved her life.

  When Amy arrived at the house, she busied herself playing with the kids and avoided Sarah’s worried, questioning glances. Her face must have had Major Stress written all over it.

  When Cliff took the kids with him to pick up their dinner from the neighborhood Chinese restaurant, Sarah planted herself in front of Amy and placed her hands on Amy’s shoulders.

  “What happened to you? You’re jumpier than one of the girls’ Mexican jumping beans.”

  Amy’s shoulders sagged beneath Sarah’s light touch. She never could keep anything from her. Didn’t want to.

  As Amy recounted the previous day’s adventures and today’s car chase, Sarah’s soft doe eyes grew rounder and bigger.

  “How do you know you can trust this Riley character?”

  “Sarah, he saved my life more than once in the past twenty-four hours. I can trust him.” Amy dropped her lashes. “Besides, he’s moved on anyway. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

  “That’s a good thing, Amy. You need to extricate yourself from this situation, pronto.” She rubbed Amy’s shoulder. “Stay here while we’re gone. Are you done with lifeguarding right now?”

  “Yeah, yesterday was my last shift. That tower closes until next summer.”

  “When does EMT School start?”

  “In two weeks, and then I might start applying to fire departments.”

  “You can do whatever you set out to do. I’ve seen it.” Sarah jerked her head toward the front door as Cliff staggered into the room carrying a daughter in one arm and bags of take-out food in the other.

  Amy put her finger to her lips, and Sarah rolled her eyes. Amy knew Sarah would tell her husband everything, but probably not until they reached thirty thousand feet. That’s how far away Amy needed Cliff to be to avoid his interference. He’d taken on the role of big brother, always eager to pick up any cause of Sarah’s.

  Amy stashed her worries in the corner as she helped Sarah’s daughters navigate their food with chopsticks. Their squeals and giggles washed over her in a soothing balm.

  This glimpse into Sarah’s family life always created a small ache in the pit of her belly. But it made her more determined to find that for herself—if she could only banish one blue-eyed adventurer from her mind.

  While the girls brushed their teeth, Amy grabbed the dinner plates and stacked them in the sink. She waved off Sarah. “Go help the girls get ready. I’ll clean up when I come back from dropping you off at the airport.”

  The family bustled out of the house, and Amy took their minivan to drop them off. When she arrived back at the house, she double-checked the locks on the doors and windows. Couldn’t be too safe when you had drug dealers
on your trail.

  Maybe now those drug dealers had just one trail to follow—Riley’s. A sprinkling of goose bumps raced up her arms, even though if anyone knew how to take care of himself, Riley did. He knew how to take care of her too.

  Enough. She smacked her hands together, the sound echoing through the silent house. And enough of this hand-wringing over her fate or, worse, leaving it to Riley to sort out. When did she ever wait for someone else to take action?

  She dumped out the contents of her purse and snatched her cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts and selected the one she dreaded the most. Placing the call, she paced the length of the family room, avoiding doll houses and a railroad track.

  She held her breath as the man on the other end answered the phone. “San Miguel Federal Penitentiary.”

  Chapter Seven

  Amy Prescott was a liar.

  Riley ran his finger along the smooth cigarette holder and then tapped it against his palm. Amy knew something about this holder and for some reason had decided to keep that information to herself.

  He should’ve figured this seemingly innocent bystander had secrets. Maybe Carlos hadn’t been an ex-boyfriend but a current one, and Amy was not only his lover but his partner in crime.

  Which made the kiss in the car even dumber. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, and he took another gulp of coffee to wash it away. Amy should’ve realized you never lie to a liar.

  His cell phone vibrated and he slid it open. “Do you have something for me, Chet?”

  Chet whistled. “You have yourself a doozy. I sure hope this is professional and not personal because you need to stay far, far away from this girl.”

  Riley clenched his gut as if expecting a blow to the midsection. So Amy had played him all along. “Professional. Go ahead.”

  “Do you remember Eli Prescott?”

  Riley dug his fingers into the arm of his chair. This was gonna be bad. “No.”

  Chet snorted. “Yeah, I guess you’re a young ’un. Before your time.”