HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (18 page)

R
emy stopped
and picked up the pizza he’d called in before continuing on to Christina’s house. He was a few minutes late, but that’s because he’d had to help Cash extract a drunken woman from the hallway outside their apartment. Cash claimed he didn’t know her and that she wasn’t there for him, but Remy didn’t quite believe it.

No doubt she was another of those poor women who’d taken one look at Cash’s Hollywood good looks and lost her ever-loving mind. Cash might have slept with her and forgot he’d done it. Or he’d just flirted heavily with the woman at a bar somewhere and then she’d stalked him until she found out where he lived.

Wasn’t the first time. Probably wouldn’t be the last.

Remy pulled into Christina’s driveway, his cock beginning to tingle with interest.

“Yeah, you know what’s happening, don’t you?” he said and then shook his head. “Jesus, talking to my fucking dick. What’s next?”

He grabbed the pizza and shut the door of his truck, clicking the button to lock it before he strode toward her front door and the heaven that awaited him behind it.

He nearly stopped on the sidewalk as he thought of her brother and the worry on his face as he’d asked if Remy loved Christina.

It was too soon for love. Too new and too raw. Not to mention he’d never actually been in love before, so he didn’t really know what it was supposed to feel like. Was it this tightening in the chest whenever he thought of Christina? Was it the rush of warmth that filled him when he held her in his arms and they went to sleep curled together?

Was it this need to be near her that made his skin itch and his brain jump until the moment he saw her again?

Maybe it was, or maybe he was just really into her.

He rang the bell. She didn’t come, but his phone dinged.

C
ome inside
. I left it unlocked for you.

R
emy frowned
. He was going to have to talk to her about leaving the door unlocked. Yeah, the neighborhood was nice, but this was fucking Washington DC. You didn’t leave the door unlocked in DC, no matter where you lived.

Still, he turned the knob and walked inside, locking the door behind him because that’s the way he operated.

W
aiting
for you in the bedroom, baby. Hurry.

H
e chuckled
, shedding the jacket he wore and tossing it on the couch. The room was still as sweet and girly as ever, but he liked it. It was like walking into a feminine lair filled with roses, lace, and silver tea sets. So ladylike. So Christina.

He didn’t know what a Cajun boy like him was supposed to do with a lady like her or why she’d even be interested in him, but he was damn glad she was. Maybe it was because she had Cajun roots herself, or maybe she just liked the tall, dark, and deadly type.

Whatever it was, he wasn’t questioning his good fortune at this moment.

He picked up the pizza and started up the stairs to her bedroom. Too bad the damn pizza was going to get cold before they ate it, but getting inside Christina would be so worth it—and it would be the first thing he did. He knew himself well enough now to know there was no way he was walking in there, finding her naked on the bed, and eating a slice of pizza first.

He’d fucked her as often as possible over the past few days, and it hadn’t gotten boring or routine yet. She was sweet and hot and sexy, and he loved making her moan. Loved the dirty words she said when she couldn’t help herself.

Usually happened when she was on the brink of orgasm or when she wanted him to do something he wasn’t doing yet—like licking her sweet pussy until she screamed his name.

He went up the stairs softly because it was a habit and went over to her door. It was shut, which gave him pause. Why shut the door if she was waiting for him? Then again, who knew what Christina was thinking.

He twisted the knob and the door swung open. She lay on the bed, totally naked, her flesh so pale and beautiful. She was wearing the pearls and her legs were spread—

A chill rolled through him as he took in several things simultaneously. First, her arms were behind her back and her legs were tied to the bedposts with what looked like scarves.

She wore a gag, and her cheeks glistened with moisture, her eyes wide and frightened. He dropped the pizza and prepared to fight, cursing because he wasn’t armed at that moment.

His weapons were locked away at HOT HQ because that’s what you did with them when you weren’t working. Fucking hell. He reached for the phone at his belt.

Just then, a man stepped out of the shadows, Christina’s phone in his hand—and a gun in the other.

“Hello, Remy. We’ve been waiting for you.”

* * *

“
L
et her go
,” Remy said, his voice a guttural growl Christina didn’t think she’d heard before.

Ben continued to point the weapon at Remy’s heart, and Christina squirmed on the bed, trying to work free from the restraints. But they were tight, and every movement of her body only seemed to make them tighter.

“Drop the fucking phone, asshole,” Ben said. “And shut up. I’m the one who does the talking here.”

Remy’s jaw tightened. He held his phone for a moment longer—and then he dropped it, tossing it so that it landed on the floor and slid beneath the dresser. She could just see it peeking out from beneath the cherrywood.

“There’s a set of handcuffs on the table by the door. Put them on.”

Remy did as Ben said, and Christina wanted to cry. He wouldn’t look at her, and that worried her. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she wanted him looking at her. Ben had forced her to strip, and then he’d tied her up in as humiliating a way as possible.

Legs spread, hands behind her back so her breasts thrust forward. He’d pinched her nipples, stuck his hand between her legs. But there’d been no tenderness in his touch, no reality. It was almost as if he’d done it to prove he could.

His eyes had been dead when they’d met hers. She’d asked him not to do this, to think—but he’d told her it was too late for that. That’s when the doorbell rang.

“You’ve been naughty, Christina,” Ben said now, glancing at her while he kept the gun trained on Remy. “Fucking this guy every night. And wow, the things you say to him in bed—if you’d talked to me like that, maybe I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere for some excitement.”

“You hypocritical asshole,” she snarled, but it came out unintelligible because of the gag. And then a chill slid through her as she thought of the implications of his speech. He
knew
what she said to Remy in bed?

Ben laughed as he came over to rip the gag from her mouth, his gaze still on Remy. It pulled out a few hairs that had gotten caught in the knot. Her scalp stung, but it was better than wearing a gag any day.

“You won’t need this anymore now that he’s here,” he said. “Couldn’t let you warn him, could I?”

“You okay, Christina?”

She looked at Remy and found him watching her now. Her eyes filled with tears. Happy tears that he was here and she wasn’t alone. Furious tears that she’d landed him in this predicament. She knew he was a badass, but how in the hell were they getting out of this one? He was cuffed, his hands hanging in front of his body, and Ben had a gun.

“Yes,” she said, because she knew he meant physical health. And she was fine as far as that went. Mentally, she wasn’t so sure. She was scared. And angry. So damned angry.

She glared at Ben. “How do you know what I say to him?” she demanded.

He laughed again. The sound was maniacal. Cracked. Oh God, what had happened to this man? She’d loved him once. He’d been normal once. Sane.

He was clearly not sane now. When had that happened?

“You can buy some interesting surveillance equipment these days,” he said. “Don’t even need to get inside to plant microphones. But you do have to get inside to plant cameras.”

He went over to the vase on her dresser where she’d stuck a few willow branches to remind her of home. Then he bent down and said, “Hello, Benjamin old boy.”

Christina’s heart turned to ice. He’d been filming her and Remy? Filming everything they did together? Oh dear heaven, what was he planning to do?

“This is a mistake, Ben. You don’t need to do this. Let us go and everything will be okay.”

Ben straightened again. “Let you go? I don’t think so.” He waved the gun. “I asked you to talk to me and you wouldn’t. I told you that we could start over, be the political couple we were meant to be. We could found a dynasty, Christina. But no, you had to go and get all hot and horny over this guy. You’ve ruined everything!”

“You ruined it, Ben, not me.”

His eyes flashed as he stuck his face on a level with hers. “Fucking whore,” he snarled. And then he lashed out and slapped her, knocking her head sideways and making her ears ring.

“Touch her again, asshole, and I
will
kill you,” Remy growled from where he stood with his wrists locked together. But he seemed closer than he had been before. Was he moving in the split seconds when Ben’s attention was on her?

Ben barked a laugh. “How? I’m the one with the gun. You aren’t superhuman, no matter how big and gorgeous you are, stud. A bullet through the brain will lay you out flat and put an end to any ideas you might have of stopping me.”

“You can kill me,” Remy said, “but you still aren’t getting out alive.”

Ben’s brows drew together at that announcement. Then he reached out to wrap a hand in Christina’s hair and jerk her toward him. He laid the gun against her temple, the barrel flush with her skin.

She closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t pull the trigger. There was so much she hadn’t done yet. So much she wanted to do. If she died now, she would never see Remy again. Never know what it was like to kiss him one more time.

She snapped her eyes open and met his anguished gaze. Whatever she was to him, she was clearly important. That thought comforted her a bit. She tried to smile for him, her mouth shaking at the corners as she did so.

“She dies first,” Ben said. “Whatever happens. So think long and hard about what you intend.”

R
emy’s heart
beat so hard it was near to bursting. This was not how a Special Operator reacted to a crisis, but goddamn, seeing Christina smiling at him with a gun to her head made him desperate.

He wasn’t letting that motherfucker shoot her. He’d failed Roxie, but fucking hell, he was
not
failing Christina. He couldn’t.

Because if Ben shot her, Remy would die. He blinked as the realization hit him, but yes, he would die if Ben killed her.

Because he didn’t want to live without her. Because she righted his world and made him happy. He hadn’t been unhappy before her—but he would be now. Now that he’d had her, if he lost her—God, he couldn’t think about it.

Her ex-husband was clearly insane. Whatever had happened in his head to crack it wasn’t Remy’s concern. Keeping them all alive until someone got here to help him was.

He’d dialed Cash’s number before he’d thrown the phone down. If everything went according to plan, Cash had heard enough of the conversation to know what was going on. Remy could have dialed 911, but he didn’t trust that the dispatcher would put the pieces together in time. Not to mention the sirens would alert Ben Scott as to what was happening.

No, far safer to dial his guys. They’d take care of it. Somehow.

Come on, you lovely motherfuckers. Need help.

Christina lived in DC. HOT was in Maryland. Cash and the boys could get here, but it was going to take some time.

“You don’t want to hurt her, Ben,” Remy said as soothingly as he could. “You want to keep her safe. She’s your ticket to the governorship, right?”

Christina had said something to him about Ben wanting to run for governor of Louisiana. Ben wasn’t from Louisiana but she was, and her father had always played a part in Louisiana politics. Ben had thought he would sail in on the strength of the Girard name and some crafty fund-raising, no doubt.

Well, Remy wasn’t against playing on the guy’s fantasies if it bought them some time.

Ben’s eyes narrowed. And then his arm went slack, the gun falling just a little bit from Christina’s temple. If it fell a little more, Remy would make his move. He hadn’t snapped the cuffs closed when he’d put them on himself as directed, but they still added split seconds to the timing. He needed to get to Ben fast, and he needed to disarm him. It could be done without hands, but with hands was better.

“I’d be a great governor.”

“You would, man. I’m from Louisiana. I’d vote for you.”

Ben’s mouth hardened. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid.”

“Well, I’m not real happy with you right this moment, but yeah, you can’t do any worse than the other governors we’ve had. I’d give you a chance. Then if you didn’t make things happen, I’d vote for the other guy the next time.”

“She has to marry me again. That’s important.”

“Yeah, I know. Christina, you hear that? You need to marry this guy as quickly as possible. Get things back on track. We need a good governor.”

He held her gaze, willing her to climb on board with him. He should have known she wasn’t an idiot and didn’t really need any encouragement.

“He hasn’t asked me,” she said softly. “He’s only told me what I had to do. A lady likes to be asked.”

“True,” Remy said. “Ben, my man, you need to get down on one knee and propose properly.”

Ben looked thoughtful for a second. Geez, the dude really had lost it. Irrational one second, almost childlike the next. Remy would have felt sorry for him if not for the fact he was holding them hostage.

“What about him?” Ben asked Christina, jerking his head toward Remy.

Christina swallowed. “What about him? He doesn’t mean anything to me. I… I just wanted to make you angry. I wanted to get back at you for hurting me.”

Remy knew she was playing the game now, but it hurt to hear her say those words.

Sadness crossed Ben’s features. He reached out and ran his fingers along Christina’s jaw.

“Prove it to me,” Ben said. “Prove he means nothing to you.”

Christina’s lashes fluttered. “I, um, okay. What do you want me to do?”

Ben lifted his head to stare at Remy. Then he slipped the fingers of one hand into his belt and started to undo it while keeping the gun trained on Christina.

“Blow me,” he said. “Right here in front of him.”

Christina licked her lips, but it wasn’t a sexy move. It was nerves. She shot Remy a look, her brows knitting, her mouth tightening. Fucking hell, he didn’t want her to do this. He couldn’t watch such a thing. And yet it would distract Ben enough that Remy could take him down.

Still, he couldn’t let it get that far. No fucking way. He wasn’t watching his woman blow another guy even if it saved their lives.

“I… I can’t,” she said. “It’s too personal.”

Ben’s gaze hardened. “I’ve watched you fuck him repeatedly. I’ve watched you blow him, and I’ve listened to you beg him for more. If you can do that with him, you can do it with me.”

* * *

C
hristina was
afraid she’d be sick, but how could she refuse? A refusal meant they had to move on to whatever came next in Ben’s twisted mind. And that might mean the end for Remy. She couldn’t let that happen.

Because she needed him too much. She met his gaze, her stomach flipping at what she saw there. He was furious and sickened, but the knowledge he couldn’t stop this from happening was there in his eyes. He had no power, and she knew that made a man like him crazy.

“You have to untie me,” she said, trying as hard as possible to think her way through this.

“Not happening. You can suck my cock without your hands.”

“At least untie one leg. I can’t get to you otherwise.” She leaned toward him, demonstrating the point that he was out of reach.

Ben looked thoughtful.

“There are scissors in the end table,” she continued, hoping he’d get them out and then leave them lying where she could reach them.

He opened the drawer and took the scissors out. Then he sliced into the scarf around her left ankle. He must have decided that having one leg tied was sufficient because he then slipped the blades between her wrists, surprising her. A moment later, her arms parted and her back stopped screaming with pain as her muscles relaxed.

“On second thought, I want your hands on me—but Christina, don’t forget that I have the gun. And I
will
shoot your lover if you give me provocation.”

“I don’t care about him,” she said. But the words hurt and she knew they weren’t true. She did care. A lot.

Ben put the scissors back in the drawer and closed it. Then he thrust his hips forward. “You know what to do. Get busy doing it.”

Christina reached for the belt he’d started undoing, her fingers shaking. Next she unzipped his pants and, as slowly as possible, unhooked the waistband.

How many times had she seen Ben’s dick in her life? How much had she once thought he was the right man for her? They’d never had the kind of spectacular passion she had with Remy, but what they’d had had been enough for her back then.

She’d felt safe with Ben. Ironic.

She closed her eyes. She
could
do this. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’d given Ben oral sex far more frequently than he gave it to her—but the idea was absolutely reprehensible to her now. Especially since he’d cheated on her. Was he safe? Clean?

She’d tested clean, but that was months ago and who knew what Ben had been up to since?

“Tell me how big my cock is,” Ben ordered, and her heart skipped a beat. He’d listened to her and Remy make love. He’d heard everything. He’d watched everything.

Helpless anger surged through her veins. But she had no choice. Not if she wanted to live.

“Huge,” she said softly, pushing his trousers open and lifting the custom shirttails out of the way. “I’ve never seen a bigger, more beautiful cock. It’s everything a girl wants.”

“Damn right,” he said. “Everything a governor needs. Big cocks get shit done.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Suck it, Christina. Show this asshole who has the bigger dick. Show him who you really want.”

She slipped her hands into his briefs and encountered a half-hard penis. “You, baby. Only you,” she whispered as she freed him.

Remy made a sound and she squeezed her eyes tight, forcing herself not to look at him. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to do this. She held Ben’s penis and moved closer, swallowing down bile as she did so.

“Fuck this shit,” Remy growled.

Christina’s eyes snapped open in time to see Remy launch himself at Ben. At the same time, something shook the house, but she didn’t know what it could be and she didn’t have time to think about it.

Ben’s arm came up, the gun aimed at Remy. Christina shoved with all her might, trying to knock Ben off-balance.

It happened in slow motion—Ben windmilled backward, Remy sailed through the air, and Christina scrambled in the drawer for the scissors so she could cut herself free or stab Ben or something, anything.

But she wasn’t fast enough, because there was a deafening kaboom—and Remy dropped to the floor like a stone.

Her hand closed around the scissors as Ben lifted the gun again. She had no time to cut her last remaining restraint. Instead, she slashed upward with the scissors, felt them sink into flesh. Ben screamed.

Remy stretched out his cuff-free hands—how had he done that?—and then grabbed Ben’s ankles, jerking his legs out from under him. Ben went down hard, his head cracking against the floor. He didn’t move again.

Christina cut the last restraint with shaking hands as footsteps pounded up her stairs, then scrambled from the bed to rush over to where Remy had rolled onto his back. Blood gushed from a wound beneath his chest and his breathing was labored.

She pressed her lips to his. They were cooler than they should be. “Remy, oh Remy. You promised you wouldn’t leave me. You promised.”

His eyes rolled in his head and then focused on her for a brief second. He raised a bloody hand, dropped it again. “Not leaving. Promise.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” someone swore. Christina turned her head and saw four SEALs through a blurry lens.

“Help him,” she said. “Please.”

Because if he died, life wouldn’t be worth living anymore.

“We got this, honey, don’t you worry.”

Cash McQuaid ripped the blanket off her bed and came over to wrap her in it while Alex Kamarov, Cody McCormick, and Corey Vance went to work on Remy.

“Is he going to be all right?”

Cash gently escorted her over to the bed and set her down on it while Cody lifted his phone and dialed 911.

“Of course he will, honey. SEALs are tough.”

But there was something in his voice that said he didn’t quite believe what he was saying.