Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  Amy’s father had to have been involved in some big-time crime for the Feds to step into a foreign country. “Where is he today?”

  Amy shook her head, her long ponytail shimmering in the summer sun.

  Riley folded the printed picture and ran his thumb along the crease. “Did Ethan ever try to contact you?”

  “No. Not that he would’ve gotten very far. I didn’t like him when I was a child. I can’t imagine the raid on the compound and the circumstances of Dad’s arrest would’ve turned him into someone I wanted to know.”

  “In fact, it could’ve turned him into a criminal.”

  “That wouldn’t have been a huge leap for Ethan.”

  “Maybe Ethan was aware of your job and your location and set up the exchange thinking you’d help, given your history with law enforcement.”

  “I guess.” Amy snatched the picture from the picnic table and smoothed it out. “I can’t believe he tracked me down and actually thought I’d meekly agree to stash drugs on the beach.”

  Riley lifted a shoulder. “You guys had the same up-bringing. You’re not exactly a big fan of law enforcement, are you?”

  “Distrusting the long arm of the law and engaging in criminal behavior are two different things.”

  “Not to Ethan.” He pointed to the crinkled picture. “Do you want to keep that?”

  “No, thanks.” She shoved it back at him and swung her legs over the bench. “I’m going to get back to my friends’ place.”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea. Are you finished sleuthing around?” He hoped so. The more she dug into Carlos’s motives, the more she exposed herself to danger.

  “I just wanted to find out why Carlos used me, and what my father’s cigarette holder was doing in the storage bin. I have answers to both of those questions. I’m done.”

  Riley expelled a breath and crumpled the picture of her family in his fist. He shoved it into his pants’ pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. “Yeah, get back to your friends’ place. That’s the safest place for you. At this point, your involvement is over.”

  Nodding, she blinked rapidly. “I agree. I’m no threat to my brother or his business associates, and I’m certainly no threat to Carlos.”

  A muscle twitched in Riley’s jaw. Was it all just wishful thinking? He couldn’t shake the unanswered questions that threatened Amy’s safety, but he couldn’t shake the dread he felt keeping her with him. Those around him usually ended up burned—or worse.

  “Is something wrong?” Her eyebrows shot up over a pair of wide eyes.

  What happened to his poker face? Riley ran his palm across his smoothly shaven chin. “Why was Carlos at your place after the drop?”

  She jerked her shoulders. “We’ve been through this a million times. Maybe he was on the run and went to the closest place he knew. The guys he ripped off followed him and killed him.”

  “Who’d he rip off—his own associates or their clients? I wonder if the men who killed him ever found what they were looking for.”

  “Well, I can’t help them there.” Amy brushed her hands together and placed them on her hips.

  Did she want him to offer his protection? With his record, she’d be safer on her own. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Her shoulders rolled forward before she stalked toward the parking lot. Looked like she didn’t even want this level of protection from him.

  When she reached her car, she spun around and thrust out her hand. “Okay, well, good luck sorting this all out. If you run across my brother, tell him thanks a lot.”

  Definitely didn’t want his protection.

  He took her hand and clasped it between both of his. “I’m sorry I went digging around in your past. I just wanted to make sure—”

  She twisted out of his grip. “You wanted to make sure I wasn’t in cahoots with Carlos. I get it. I’m not the most trustworthy person in the world, and you figured that out pretty quickly.”

  “That’s not true, Amy.” He reached for her hand again and lightly twined his fingers with hers. “I knew you were hiding something about that cigarette holder. I never suspected your complicity before that, and I don’t now.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything, Riley. I know you want to help your friend. I understand that.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her damp palm. He wanted to do so much more, but her narrowed eyes and stiff spine screamed back off.

  He reached around her and opened the car door. She slid inside, and he held the door. “You have my cell number. If anything happens, if you need any help, give me a call.”

  “I think you’re the one who needs to be careful now.” She snatched the door from his hand and slammed it.

  Riley had no intention of allowing her to peel out of the prison parking lot without him. He could at least make sure no one followed her. He rushed to his car and beat her to the exit. Then he followed her down the highway.

  His gut twisted when she put on her signal to take the next exit. He wanted to keep her with him and protect her.

  Except the last woman who came to him for protection wound up dead.

  Amy beeped her horn as she swerved onto the off-ramp and Riley flashed his lights. She might be done digging for answers, but he’d just begun. And he planned to start with Ethan Prescott.

  When Riley arrived back at his house, he opened his laptop and got on the phone. He may be a dive-boat operator in Cabo, but he still had his law enforcement connections. He started with the San Diego Sheriff’s Department and a former member of Riley’s first SEAL unit, Walt Moreau.

  “What would you spooks do without us regular cops?”

  Riley snorted. “We’d be lost without you, but we spare you the ugly stuff.”

  “Yeah, right. You guys cause us more trouble than you’re worth. I thought you were retired from spying, too.”

  “I did retire. I’m back for an encore. Long story.”

  “I don’t wanna know. What do you need this time?”

  “Ethan Prescott. Does he live here? Does he have a rap sheet? Is he a known drug dealer?”

  Walt swore. “That SOB.” He clicked some keys on his computer. “He’s been in for a few petty crimes, but we can’t nail him on the big stuff. He’s a facilitator. Takes his cut for brokering deals.”

  “Do you have an address on him?”

  “You paying him a social call?”

  “Something like that. I’m real social when I want to be.”

  Walt gave him an address for Prescott in San Diego with his usual admonition. “You didn’t get this from me.”

  Riley punched the address in on his GPS and followed the directions to Amy’s brother’s place in La Jolla, a well-heeled area of San Diego. The house was located near where Amy was staying. Lifestyles of the rich and criminal.

  Riley pulled up across the street from a big, well-lit property. Cars lined the street in front of the house. Dinner party? That would work, and he still had on his slacks and dress shirt from the visit to the penitentiary. Hell, he was feeling social.

  He marched up the walkway and pressed the doorbell. A member of the catering staff answered the door. First class all the way.

  Riley pasted on his smoothest smile. “Good evening.”

  “Do you have an invitation, sir?” The party guests murmured behind him, clinking glasses. Sounded like a blast.

  “Yes.” Riley squared his shoulders and shook out his cuffs.

  The man coughed. “Do you have it with you?”

  Riley patted his pockets. “Looks like I forgot it.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. You have to have an invitation.” The man’s lips pursed as he folded his arms.

  Riley rolled his eyes. Like this dude with his black apron and bow tie was going to keep him away from Ethan Prescott. “I’m sure if you tell Mr. Prescott his sister’s friend is here, he’ll make an exception.”

  “His sister?”

  “Amy.”

  The waiter held up his hand. “Wai
t here, please.”

  When he walked away, Riley stepped into the foyer and clicked the door behind him. The caterers had gone all out for this party. The smell of sizzling steak made his mouth water, and he closed his eyes as his stomach rumbled in protest. He could’ve at least bought Amy some dinner.

  “You know Amy?”

  The sharp words jerked Riley out of his food fantasies, and his eyelids flew open. The tall, angular man in front of him clutched a wineglass in one hand and a fork in the other.

  Riley’s gaze darted between the hovering caterer and Ethan Prescott’s lean, hard face. “I do.”

  Prescott jerked his thumb at the waiter. “Get lost.”

  He turned back to Riley, his blue eyes glittering. “What do you want?”

  “What do you want? Why are you following me? If you want to kill me for killing one of your guys, here I am.” Riley spread his arms wide and grinned.

  Prescott took a swig of wine and gestured to his left. A tall, beefy guy with a neck like a tree trunk emerged from the shadows. He shoved Riley against the wall and patted him down.

  He grunted, “He’s clean.”

  Riley had more sense than to bring a weapon—or wear a wire to a dinner party.

  Prescott handed the fork to his henchman and adjusted his collar. “Who are you? CIA? Private investigator? I know you’re not law enforcement. They’re too polite to barge in unannounced like this.”

  “Yeah, I’m not polite at all.” Riley smoothed his shirt. “I’m investigating another case and the Velazquez deal crossed into my radar, and then you crossed into my radar.”

  “I’m not following you, and that wasn’t one of my guys. I’m just the broker. I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to the two parties.”

  “Why did you involve your sister?”

  Prescott swirled his wine. “You want a glass?”

  “No.” Riley shoved a clenched fist in his pocket. “Your sister?”

  “I needed to find a drop location. That storage bin looked perfect, and I needed access. Pretty simple. I thought I could get her to work with me. I know she has no love for law enforcement, but Dad figured she wouldn’t give me the time of day. So I used my charming friend, Carlos.”

  Riley scooped in a deep breath. Amy was just a means to an end. Nothing more. “What do you think happened to Carlos?”

  “He disappeared.”

  “He’s dead.”

  Prescott clicked his tongue. “This is a high-risk business. That’s why I have bodyguards.”

  “If Carlos double-crossed someone, doesn’t that put you at risk? He was your guy.”

  Prescott lifted one eyebrow. “Not really. Velasquez had used him before. I did my part. They can try to come after me, but Carlos is the one who took the clients’ money.”

  Riley whistled. “Is that what happened? The Velasquez Cartel entrusted Carlos with the money to give to the terrorists in exchange for the drugs, and he stole it instead?”

  Prescott whistled back. “You’re good. I didn’t even know the identity of the clients.”

  “Did the so-called clients get their money back when they murdered Carlos?”

  A smile spread across Prescott’s face, and Riley flinched at the pure evil emanating from the man. How could he and Amy be related? They didn’t even seem like the same species.

  “No, I don’t believe they did get their money back.”

  “Is that why they’re still on my tail? They think I have it or something?” Riley clenched his jaw. He’d have to disabuse them of that notion—fast.

  Prescott chuckled and shook his head. “They’re not after you. They’re after Amy.”

  WHEN RILEY FLASHED HIS LIGHTS as Amy had careened onto the off ramp, she had to blink back tears to focus on the road. She knew Riley would’ve stayed with her if she’d begged, but she had too much pride for that. Her desire for his company didn’t have anything to do with fear and everything to do with her attraction to him.

  But he seemed determined to keep his distance. It was almost as if he considered himself toxic, but he was torn between that and his protective instincts which ran strong and deep.

  She probably could’ve played on that aspect of Riley’s character, but that was stooping pretty low. She didn’t play games with men. Maybe that’s why she didn’t have one in her life.

  Her stomach growled and she rubbed it. She should’ve suggested dinner. He would’ve gone for that, figuring they could at least eat together without putting her life in danger.

  Before making the turn to Sarah’s house, Amy pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center with a bookstore, a coffee place, a bank and several restaurants. She stopped in at the bookstore first. Had to have something to read at dinner so she wouldn’t look like a total loser eating by herself.

  She tucked the glossy magazines under her arm as she pulled open the door to a small Japanese restaurant. She turned down the Saki in favor of a large ice tea and ordered some sushi and tempura. As if she didn’t get enough fish.

  When she finished her meal, she left one of the magazines on the table for the next loner to enjoy and stepped into the breezy evening.

  Several turns and several miles later, she pulled into the long drive of Sarah’s house and threw her car into Park. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and sighed.

  The events of the day had drained her emotionally. She hadn’t visited her father in a few years. He had nothing she wanted anymore. Still didn’t.

  She slipped into the house, flicked on the light and locked the door behind her. She kicked off her flats and padded across the cool tile of the kitchen floor. She needed more caffeine to stay awake and figure out the rest of her life. Grabbing a soda from the fridge, she cocked her head at a tinkling sound from upstairs.

  She snapped the lid of her can and trudged up the curved staircase, straightening a picture on the wall on her way up. She paused on the landing while slurping a sip of soda. The tinkle of the wind chimes floated through the door of the master bedroom. She poked her head around the corner, frowning at the curtains billowing into the room. A gust of wind sent the wind chimes into overdrive.

  Sarah had mentioned her maid would be coming in today. Had she opened the window? The wind was kicking up from the ocean now strong enough to blow over those pretty little glass figures littering Sarah’s dresser. Amy put her soda can on top of the dresser, and then paused to admire the view before sliding the window closed and clicking it into place.

  She brushed some sand from the windowsill into her palm and dusted off her hands into the toilet in the master bathroom. A rustling noise from outside the bedroom caused her to freeze. A tingle raced up her spine.

  The Lynches had boarded their dog before they left for vacation, but the girls had a hamster. It was probably Chester the hamster making all that racket. Please be Chester the hamster.

  Amy tiptoed back into the master bedroom and peeked around the corner into the hallway, holding her breath. The rustling stopped. She’d better check on Chester in the kids’ playroom.

  She glanced into the guest bedroom and stumbled to a stop. Her suitcase, which she hadn’t unpacked yet, gaped open on the bed. Its contents spilled over the sides and lay scattered across the floor.

  Amy gripped the doorjamb for support, her gaze darting around the room. Someone had tossed the room—no other word for it.

  The open window.

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage and a cold chill ran through her body. Clenching her chattering teeth, she twisted to see over her shoulder. A shadow passed across the playroom door.

  She had to get out of the house. Now.

  Chapter Nine

  Amy spun around and dashed for the stairs. As she reached the top step, she heard a footfall behind her. Clutching the banister, she took the steps two at a time, her feet barely skimming the tile.

  When she reached the bottom and took the corner, her shoulder glanced off the wall. She gasped in pain. She scrambled for the front doo
r, bracing her back for an attack and sucking in air to let loose with a scream when it happened.

  She may not be ready with a weapon if someone grabbed her from behind, but she’d be ready with a scream loud enough to pierce his eardrums.

  She shoved open the door and stumbled down the steps. She had no purse, no keys, no phone. The long driveway stretched in front of her, and she sprinted toward the street.

  Tires squealed and a car blew up the drive. Amy dived to the side, landing in a clump of bushes. She screamed and thrashed until she tore herself away from the clinging twigs of the shrubbery. “Amy!”

  That voice. The small blue compact car. Help. Safety. Riley.

  Sobbing, she stumbled toward him. He reached for her, and she threw herself against his chest. He held her. He soothed her. He didn’t seem at all surprised.

  “What happened, Amy?”

  With her head still buried in his shoulder, she pointed toward the house. “There’s someone in the house.”

  His frame hardened and coiled beneath her. “Right now?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. Someone searched my bag. I heard footsteps and took off.”

  With one arm curled around her waist, Riley ducked into his car and withdrew a gun. He started for the house, clinching her to his side. “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

  In her haste to flee the house, she’d left the door wide open. Brandishing his weapon, Riley crept into the foyer. “Did you actually see anyone?”

  “N-no.” Her gaze darted around the family room. “I saw an open window and my disheveled suitcase. Then I heard some noises and saw a shadow, which sent me flying down the staircase. I thought someone was coming after me.”

  Riley marched across the family room toward the dining room. He leveled a finger at the sliding door, open to the back patio and the beach beyond. “Did you leave that open?”

  “No. He must’ve slipped out the back while I was running helter-skelter out the front.”

  “Or he was coming after you until he heard my car in the drive.”

  Amy folded her arms across her belly as a chill snaked up her spine. “Why?”