Navy SEAL Protector

by Bonnie Vanak

  Shelby shook her head. “Silas owed the alarm company a lot of money.”

  “No need for an alarm company. I’ll set up a new system to monitor them from here.” His mouth compressed. “I’ll wire them myself.”

  “Fine. I can show you where the cameras are.” Her jangled nerves made it feel like ants were crawling beneath her skin. “But you’re not staying here. My apartment is too small and that couch has a thin mattress.”

  Nick shrugged. “I’ve bunked in much worse, and tighter spaces. It’s my skill set.”

  But not around her. Never around her. It was hard enough breathing the same air as him. How could she sleep with him in the next room?

  Then her gaze fell to the pistol hanging on his belt. Timmy’s welfare came first. She could control her raging libido for her nephew’s sake. Shelby walked away, hugging herself as she stared out the front window.

  “So what if I haven’t had sex in eight months?”

  “Been that long, huh?”

  Shelby whirled to see his wide, Cheshire cat grin. “You heard.”

  Nick tapped his ear. “Another skill of mine. I know how to listen, darling.”

  Making a note of that, she gave him a pointed look. “Okay. You can stay here. But this is my house and my rules. You sleep here.” She pointed to the sofa. “You’ll share a bathroom with Timmy, not me. I have my own and plan to keep it that way. And no flirting and suggestive remarks or cussing. My nephew is only five.”

  Nick spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence. “I’m innocent.”

  Right.

  He stood close enough for her to count the bristles on his chin. Nick had shaved in a hurry, neglecting one spot. Memories assailed her. Sixteen years old, scraping her fingers over his chin and then kissing that one particular spot.

  Shaking free the memory, she glanced at her watch. “Felicity wants us all to dine together at the main house. Six o’clock sharp. Wear something more civilized than jeans. She likes to dress for dinner.”

  He considered. “I have some black silk boxers that are formal. That do?”

  Flushing, she scowled at him. “Stop it, Nick.”

  Then his cocky grin dropped and his gaze turned serious. “You’ll be safer with me here, Shelby. I’m not going to leave until I find out who’s been doing these things and threatening you and the ranch. I promise you, I will catch them.”

  With a nod, he headed out the door. “I’ll bring my things over later. Need to have a look around the place first.”

  Watching him walk down the steps, a warm tingle raced down her spine. Not from his quiet words, or the relief they brought, but the awareness of him as a man and the unspoken intent lingering in his eyes, a sensual promise that could lead them straight down the road where they’d left off ten years ago.

  And straight back into hell.

  Chapter 5

  Shelby. Soft, warm body, mouth that would tempt a monk.

  Nick tried to keep the image of her at bay as he took the golf cart on the trails winding through the ranch. What he saw so far dismayed him. Barbed wire fence broken in places, posts that leaned or were too weathered to hold anything back.

  Easy enough to infiltrate the property. Why had the old man slipped? Never had Silas been this lax while Nick was living here. He ran a tight ship. Maybe having Dan as the ranch manager had meant things got sloppy.

  His cell phone rang. Stopping the golf cart, Nick glanced at the number and answered it.

  “Nick. I’m so sorry about your father. We only found out today from Jarrett. You okay?”

  His buddy Cooper sounded concerned. Jarrett Adler, former Navy SEAL lieutenant, was an octopus when it came to keeping up with his former teammates. The man could find anyone. Married now to the pretty daughter of a former US senator, Jarrett was living the good life after the navy.

  Nick sighed. “Fine. I would have told you, but I didn’t want to drag you and Meg away from the farm. The funeral was quick. I barely made it home in time.”

  He told Cooper about the inheritance, and briefly mentioned the financial cloud hovering over the ranch.

  “You need a loan? Want us to gather a group of guys to come down there and help get things back in shape?”

  The same self-reliance that guided him through life after leaving home filled him now. He didn’t need help. Even if his good friend meant well. “No thanks, man. I can handle it.”

  “Nick, you helped save Meg. I never forget a debt. I mean it. If you need me...” Cooper’s voice dropped. “Or Jarrett—don’t let that damn pride of yours stop you from calling. You know Jarrett. He’s always willing to help out, and he’s looking for guys for Project SOS.”

  “I will. Gotta run. My love to Meg and the fam.” He thumbed off the phone and kept driving, wondering what other bad news he’d find on the trails.

  He came to the outcropping of forest where he’d once played as a child—to escape Silas—then parked the golf cart and got out. Nick rested a hand against the thick magnolia tree that guarded the entrance to these woods for decades, perhaps centuries. Searching through the gnarled bark, he found the initials.

  SS + NA

  Grinning, he traced the faded marks, remembering the day he’d first encountered Shelby carving them into the tree. She was only eight and declared Nick had to marry her since their initials were formally engraved on “their” tree, the spot where they’d played tag as children.

  Little minx even swiped his favorite Boy Scout knife to make the mark.

  Nick rubbed the initials. He wasn’t a Boy Scout anymore, and she had a body made for hard loving at night. Sleeping only footfalls away from her would test his endurance. But hell, he was a former SEAL who had pushed his body to the limits. He could handle the close proximity to pure temptation.

  Nick closed his eyes, remembering her mouth, soft and warm upon his. How she’d been eager and inexperienced as he’d tutored her in how to use her tongue, and how her hands had skimmed up his back beneath his skirt, exploring his body.

  Hands off. She’s not for you.

  Shelby was home and hearth and he was...what?

  Needing to leave, as soon as things were settled. Already he felt the pinch of yearning to hit the road again. Ever since leaving the teams, he had fierce wanderlust.

  Nick continued his patrol, avoiding the thick woods where the old cabin stood. No more memories of Shelby, and the kiss they’d shared. Instead, he drove back, parked and walked away from the view of the jagged purple mountaintops shrouded in mist, toward the stables and barn. Horses cropping grass in the pasture didn’t even glance up as he passed.

  When he reached the red barn, the door was wide-open. Nick scanned the perimeter, saw nothing odd, but someone was inside.

  The barn was an open space, with rafters reaching to a loft. Here, Silas had stored the wagon used for autumn hay rides, the winter sleigh, the two tractors and other equipment. The wood building still had stalls once used for horses before Silas had built the much larger, more modern stables. Bales of hay stacked to the loft made it an excellent place for hiding. He grinned as he walked across the wood floor, his soft-soled shoes making no sound.

  Behind one of the stalls, a towheaded boy sat on a bale of hay, playing a video game. Beeps blared from the tablet he held. Nick grinned.

  “Hi, Timmy.”

  The kid jumped, nearly dropping the tablet. Guilt crossed his face.

  Nick jammed his hands in his pockets, not wanting to scare the kid further. “I’m Nick. Visiting for a while.”

  “I know,” the boy said with aplomb. “We met.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Are you supposed to be in here without an adult?”

  Timmy picked up the tablet and waved it. “Aunt Shelby told me to play. She didn’t specify what to play.”

&
nbsp; Smart kid.

  Nick pointed to the hay. “Mind if I join you?”

  Timmy made a gesture much like his aunt had made in her living room. Nick sat.

  “Uncle Silas was your daddy.” Timmy’s gaze swept him up and down, as scrutinizing as Shelby’s had been. “You left here a long time ago. I heard them talking.”

  I bet. “I’m back now, for a while. I’m moving in with you and your aunt.”

  Blue eyes rounded. “You’re supposed to live in the big house.”

  Suppressing a snort, he lifted his shoulders. “The house is too stuffy for me. I’d be more comfortable with you and Shelby. If it’s okay by you.”

  Timmy considered. “If Aunt Shelby says you can, then I guess it’s okay.”

  The boy gave him a long look. “Is that your motorcycle parked in the driveway?”

  Nick nodded. Timmy’s eyes lit up. “It’s nice. Nicer than my trucks.”

  Chuckling at the thought of his Harley being compared to toy trucks, he wondered if Timmy liked hanging out here. Nick had as a child. The soothing smell of the bales of hay provided a seat, and there were no prying eyes to see how hurt he’d been at Silas yelling at him to shape up.

  “You come here often, Timmy?” At the nod, he went on. “See anything odd?”

  “Like the stuff that’s been happening around here?” Timmy shook his head. “I like to hide in here because no one ever looks for me here.”

  “Especially when you’ve done something you shouldn’t have?”

  Timmy’s lower lip jutted out, a startling resemblance to his aunt when Shelby was much younger. “I told Aunt Shelby I’d clean the paint off the wall. I didn’t mean to splatter it.”

  At the boy’s chagrined look, Nick grinned. “No worries, Tim. I did the same when I was your age. Good place to hide when my daddy wanted to spank me.”

  He shook his head. “Aunt Shelby’s nice. She would never spank me. It’s only Uncle Dan I like hiding from.”

  Odd. “Why? Does he threaten you?”

  “No, but he yells sometimes. He gets all worried and his face scrunches up. I don’t like it.”

  Nick didn’t, either, but considering how much financial trouble the ranch was in, he couldn’t blame his cousin. He stood, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get out of here before someone discovers you’ve left.”

  Timmy joined him as Nick walked to the nearby stables. The boy chattered as he clutched his tablet. When they reached the stables, Timmy ran through the opened door to a stall at the end.

  “Hey, Macaroni pony!” He reached up as a pony stuck its head close to the bars in the stall. Timmy climbed onto a bale of hay and stroked the horse’s nose.

  “This is my pony, Macaroni. Well, he’s not really my pony, but Macaroni likes me more than Mason. Mason doesn’t like horses, so Miss Felicity said I can ride Macaroni and care for him. Aunt Shelby will only allow me to come here with an adult.”

  Nick gave a pointed look around the stables. Timmy flushed. “Today’s different, because of the funeral.”

  “Listen to your aunt,” he said mildly. “You shouldn’t be here in the stables alone or the barn alone with all these strange things happening. You’re too young.”

  Timmy frowned. “I’m almost six years old. I’m not a baby.”

  He really liked this kid and his sass, which reminded him so much of Shelby. “You’re with me now, so it’s okay.”

  The child sat on the bale of hay and began toying with his tablet again. “I like you, Nick. You’re nice. Dan yells at me all the time when I’m in the barn or the stables. Uncle Jake’s okay. He doesn’t mind me hanging here. Mario, one of our stable hands, is usually here but he got the day off because of the funeral. He likes Aunt Shelby. He brought her flowers last week.”

  Jealousy pinched Nick. Silly. He hadn’t been in Shelby’s life for years. Why shouldn’t she date?

  “Is Mario her boyfriend?”

  Timmy shook his head. “He just likes her because she helped him with his English lessons.”

  “Does Aunt Shelby have a boyfriend or any other guys who visit her?”

  Timmy’s gaze sharpened. “No. Why?”

  Nick gave a grudging laugh. Very smart kid. Small wonder, with Shelby raising him. “Wondering who else might come on the ranch. I need to account for everyone.”

  “Uncle Jake’s seeing Lynn. He brings her to dinner sometimes, but Miss Felicity doesn’t like her because she dyes her hair pink and snaps her gum.”

  Nick liked the rebellious Lynn already.

  “Do you like pink hair, Nick?”

  He thought of sable-soft hair, slipping through his fingers as he fisted it in his hands, his tongue moving deep inside a wet, warm mouth. “I prefer dark brown.”

  He investigated the stables, leaving Timmy to his video game. At least here he could see evidence of money well spent. Silas had upgraded the facility, installing new sliding doors and heaters. The stalls were roomy. But with few boarders, what good was it if the stables didn’t pay for themselves?

  He came to a stall occupied by a curious filly, who came over to greet him. Timmy abandoned his tablet to join Nick.

  “That’s Fancy, Miss Natalie’s horse. She doesn’t want her out in the pasture with the others because she’s afraid she’ll get bitten. Or mounted.” Timmy frowned. “What’s mounted? I asked Aunt Shelby and she just stammered something about what horses do.”

  Hiding a grin, Nick looked at the horse, who blew softly at him as he stroked her nose through the bars. “They do at that,” he muttered, thinking of how he’d enjoy doing the same to Timmy’s aunt.

  Down, boy.

  “Miss Natalie said that she wouldn’t board her horse here unless she got preferential treatment and Silas installed new heaters for the winter.” Timmy looked at the horse. “I heard Silas say it cost a pretty penny. But he wanted her business.”

  Interesting. Why would Natalie board her filly here when Chuck Beaufort had stables of his own? Maybe she had a particular reason for visiting the Belle Creek...or she wanted an excuse to get on the grounds.

  “Does Miss Natalie come here often to ride her horse?”

  Timmy nodded. “She was supposed to come today, even though Aunt Shelby said no visitors at the ranch. Miss Natalie said she wasn’t a visitor, that she paid plenty of money to keep her horse here and didn’t need special visiting hours.”

  Sounded like the snobbish Natalie. Nick looked down at Timmy. “When was she here?”

  “She was here just before you arrived. Her car’s still parked outside.”

  So that was the fancy Jag he’d spotted on his walk. Natalie had been a high-stepping and snobbish filly back in their school days and it seemed little had changed. Perhaps she’d noticed something in her daily visits to the stables. He’d chat her up, coax information from those glossy lips.

  Not his type. No, he preferred natural mouths with plump lower lips that trembled when he stroked his thumb across the soft texture...

  Time to go, before he started daydreaming again about the boy’s aunt and developed a condition Timmy was too young to understand. A stable hand entered the stables, nodded at him and began dishing out oats for the filly.

  “Hi, Hank!” Timmy waved at the man, who nodded back at him. “Hank is always here, so I’m never really alone,” he told Nick. “I usually leave when it’s time to give Fancy her oats.”

  More expenses. Miss Natalie’s horse had tastes as expensive as her owner’s.

  “I’ll walk you back to the house,” Nick told Timmy.

  Timmy grabbed his tablet and began chatting about school and his birthday. He’d wanted a store-bought cake, only to please his aunt, but he really preferred Shelby’s because she let him help, and lick the spoon.

  Nick smiled. “Frosting’s t
he best part.”

  They cleared the stables and started on the pathway snaking through the grass that led to the main house.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement by the stables and something sail through the air toward his head. Nick automatically ducked, then pushed Timmy to the ground and covered his body. Withdrawing his sidearm, he waited.

  But all he heard was the wind rustling through the nearby trees and the whinny of the horses in the nearby pasture. Nick eased off Shelby’s nephew. “You okay?”

  Wide-eyed, Timmy stared at him. “I’m o-okay. Wh-what was that?”

  “I don’t know. Someone threw something at me.” He gestured to the ground. “Stay here and stay low!”

  Nick ran to the stables and saw the hired man still feeding Natalie’s horse. “Has anyone been by here?” he asked sharply.

  Hank shook his head. “Only Miss Natalie a few moments ago. Not here now. Said something about going to get her car.”

  After checking out the stables and the perimeter, he saw nothing. Nick headed back to the scared Timmy and saw something in the grass nearby. His blood pressure skyrocketed.

  It was a small cloth bag, tied at the end with a cord. Suspicious bags in his world could mean an explosive device. Memories hammered at him, the sinking feeling as the Humvee rattled over the road, the terrible bang and right after, the horrid pain in his leg and the burn as shrapnel sliced open his left cheek...

  “Timmy, go back to the house right now.”

  “But—”

  “Now!”

  Not until the boy had reached the house safely and was inside did Nick stoop to examine the bag. He listened. Nothing ticking.

  Nick walked away, found a rock and lobbed it at the bag.

  Ping! The rock hit the paper, but nothing exploded.

  With extreme caution, he approached the bag and then very carefully sliced the cord with his pocketknife. He opened it.

  Nothing but rocks inside. Whoever did this had wanted to hit his head, but not injure him badly. The rocks were more for weighing the bag down than to cause real injury.