HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (6 page)

Damn it, why did she always get it wrong? She’d fallen for Ben and he’d been toxic. Then she’d decided a one-night stand with Remy was a good idea—until the intensity of what happened between them rattled her so badly she had to run away rather than face it.

She’d felt drawn to him in a way she simply couldn’t handle. It had been too soon. She couldn’t trust him—couldn’t trust herself. She’d needed distance.

Yet here she was, facing him after six months and feeling like someone had ripped out her guts. It wasn’t easier seeing him now, and it should be. She should be completely unaffected.

She was
far
from unaffected.

She heard voices and figured Paul must have arrived. She shrugged the abaya over her clothing, straightened the hijab, and jerked open the door.

Remy looked even more annoyed if that were possible. Paul was there, also looking annoyed. Seeing the two men standing together, she wondered how on earth she’d ever believed Paul was capable of being her bodyguard on this trip.

He wasn’t precisely fat, but he wasn’t toned either. He looked like one of those guys who worked out but still ate chili dogs and cheese fries. A bit of a gut, but with big arms and a thick neck. Like he’d been a football player at one point in his life.

He was shorter than Remy by about six inches, which made her realize just how tall Remy was. Six-four or six-five at least.

“You should have been here with her the instant you learned about the airport.” Remy’s voice was tight.

Paul puffed up his chest like a rooster. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, asshole, and I won’t tell you how to do yours.”

She thought Remy might explode, but instead he just shook his head. “Motherfucker,” he said softly, “you have no idea what the hell I do. But I guarantee you it’s more before breakfast than you do in a month.”

Paul puffed himself up again. “I’m an ex-Marine, buddy. I get it.”

Remy took two long steps, cutting the distance between them.

Paul reared back, bumping into a chair and nearly falling. “What the fuck?” he demanded.

Remy grabbed him, spun him around, and at some point relieved him of the weapon he had holstered inside his jacket. After Remy checked the gun and shoved it into one of the many pockets in his vest, he looked at Paul in disgust.

“It’s
former
Marine, dickhead, or simply
Marine
. Never ex. Don’t pretend to be something you aren’t. It’s an insult to all who’ve served.”

Paul rubbed his wrist where Remy’d grasped it. Then he blew out a breath. “I tried to join up but didn’t pass the physical. I wanted to go, but they wouldn’t take me. So maybe I don’t have the right, but I wanted it.”

Remy appeared to relax slightly at that unexpected bit of honesty. “Understood. But don’t claim it when you didn’t earn it. That’s not cool.”

Remy turned to where Christina stood just outside the bathroom door. “You ready?”

“I think so.”

“Then let’s roll, kids. We’re going to meet up with my team and get the fuck out of here. All you have to do is keep up.”

J
esus
, why had he volunteered to be the one to get Christina? His gut churned and he wanted to say about a million things to her. Things he wasn’t going to say because there was absolutely no point.

She’d made it clear enough she wasn’t interested.

Remy led the way to the stairs, sweeping the hall with his weapon at the ready. The hotel wasn’t under rebel control, but that wasn’t the point.

His other teammates had fanned out to locate the rest of the people on the list, and they were meeting downstairs. Five individuals in all, six now with Paul, the not-quite-a-Marine bodyguard.

Remy went into the stairwell, swept it for intruders, and then signaled Paul and Christina to follow. At least Paul waited for Christina to go first, putting her between the two of them. Remy didn’t like the guy, mostly because he hadn’t taken as good of care of Christina as he should have. Asshole should have had her out of here two hours ago at a minimum.

But if he had, you wouldn’t have her now. You wouldn’t know she was safe.

True.

Maybe it would have been better for Remy if she’d already been gone though.

Because, goddamn, he’d been pissed since the second she opened the door, looking all sweet and pretty in her summery dress with the hijab over her hair. He’d had a strong need to kiss her, and that hadn’t helped his temper in the least.

He knew where he stood with Christina Girard-Scott. One night in her arms, and he was history. He thought he’d glimpsed heaven with her, and then she’d refused to answer his calls.

Just as well since he’d probably been wrong anyway. She was just another woman, though admittedly she wasn’t his usual type. He didn’t typically go for the Junior League sort.

Or maybe he was just pissed because she’d given him a dose of his own medicine. Yeah, he’d had one-night stands and he’d failed to call the woman the next day—or ever—but he’d never called and been ignored. That was a new one.

At first he’d thought she was busy. Took him about three days to realize she was ignoring him on purpose.

He’d been unable to ask Matt Girard about his sister. Unable to ask anyone. All he could do was leave messages.

Messages she never returned. He’d gotten the hint after two weeks, but he’d called periodically for the next couple of months. Just in case she finally answered and explained what the fuck was going on—which she never had.

They entered the foyer of the hotel. There were a few people around, but not many. Everyone was busy fleeing the city, which didn’t bode particularly well for the SEALs and their charges.

They’d been tasked with putting these people on a plane, but that had changed in the past couple of hours between order and execution. There was no way through to the airport now. People were leaving by car and truck, fleeing north. Some would go east to the port city of Akhira. It was the most direct way to the sea but also the riskiest with the fighting so close. The rebels could cut the route if they overran the road at any point.

The SEALs couldn’t call in an air rescue because every helicopter was currently being used elsewhere. Not to mention the sky was particularly dangerous at the moment since the rebels had a supply of shoulder-fired missile launchers. They would most definitely aim them at a Blackhawk appearing on the skyline, and that was a nightmare nobody needed.

The only way out was the way everyone was going—motor vehicle.

Viking was waiting for them when they arrived in the foyer. “We’ll go seven to a vehicle. You’ve got Cowboy, Camel, and Money— Jesus, that sounds like a bad joke.”

Viking shook his head and Remy couldn’t help but grin. Cody “Cowboy” McCormick thought riding bulls on his off time was fun. Alex “Camel” Kamarov had the misfortune to have a name that lent itself to a name like Camel. And Cash “Money” McQuaid was self-explanatory.

“Akhira is the closest, but we’re heading for Merak,” Viking continued. “It’s more stable, and the commercial airport is still operational.”

Merak was a port city near the northern border of Qu’rim. On a good day, it was six hours north. On a day like today? God only knew.

“Copy that. It’s farther from the fighting and less likely to be cut off. Don’t think we have much choice really.”

Viking looked grim. “Not especially, no.” His gaze slipped over Paul and Christina standing nearby. “She okay?”

Of course Viking knew who she was because he’d been at those same gatherings where Remy had met and talked to Christina.

“Seems to be.”

“Are you?”

Remy’s gaze snapped to his team leader. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Viking’s expression didn’t change. “No reason. If you want me to take her, I can do that. Trade you a pudgy banker.”

Remy snorted. “Fuck no. You keep the banker.”

Viking tipped his head toward Paul. “The bodyguard, huh?”

“Not much of one. He knew the airport was in danger two hours ago and did nothing.”

“To be fair,” Viking said, “I don’t think there was much he could have done about that. You want him to wander into a hot zone with her?”

“No, but he could have been on the road to Merak by now.”

“Again, would you be satisfied if he’d done that? We wouldn’t know where she was—and Girard would be having a shit fit back at HQ if that were the case.”

“Yeah, fine, point that out.”

Viking grinned. “Cheer up, you crazy Cajun motherfucker. We’ve got the girl and we’re on the way in five.”

* * *

C
hristina recognized
some of the SEALs. She’d met them at Matt’s or at Buddy’s Bar. They looked different like this. Meaner. So big and broad—and armed to the teeth. Not the kind of guys you’d want to fuck around with, that’s for sure.

They went outside and started to climb into two light brown vans that sat in the circular driveway of the hotel—she didn’t know if they were armored, but she hoped so. They didn’t look military grade, but she suspected that was done on purpose. Once inside, she knew why no one could bring a suitcase. If they had, there’d be no room left inside for people. She had her briefcase and her purse, which was all she needed. Her computer was small and fit in the briefcase.

The van wasn’t dinky, but it wasn’t huge either. The inside was stripped down, with steel floors and bench seats along the sides. At least there were seat belts. There was also equipment stowed at the rear, which severely cut down on the amount of room available. Ammo, she imagined, looking at the boxes.

And didn’t that thought just make her shiver? She hoped they wouldn’t need to break out the ammo.

Once they were all inside—four SEALs, Christina and Paul, and a pretty woman with big boobs—Remy sank onto the seat beside Christina instead of across from her. His side pressed against hers from shoulder to knee.

Christina shrank from the contact, not because it was horrible but because of the things it did to her insides. Yes he was armored, and yes he smelled like sweat and sand combined, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her body was on red alert.

“Let’s roll,” he said, and the SEAL behind the wheel pressed the gas. She’d seen him playing pool with Remy. Cody? Cowboy? Something like that. The other one in the passenger seat was the one with the Russian name. And sitting across from them, beside the redhead with boobs, was Cash McQuaid. Hard to forget a name like that.

Or a face. Cash grinned at her and then winked. “Having fun yet, little sister?”

“Loads, thanks. So did Matt send you guys to get us?”

“Not Richie,” Remy interjected. “Seems as if a State Department evac notice didn’t get your attention. You five—six,” he added after a glance at Paul, “just thought you’d hang out by the pool and sip margaritas all day.”

“I had a flight out tomorrow,” Christina said, wanting to wipe the superior smirk from his face.

“Yeah, well that’s not happening, is it? You shouldn’t have come in the first place. Think I might have mentioned that a few months ago. And I’ll damn sure bet your brother mentioned it.”

Cash’s gaze moved between them with interest. They hadn’t been a thing long enough for any of the guys to know about it, but it must seem as if they knew a little too much about each other right this moment. Though, on the other hand, she might have said a little too much during a girls’ night out once. If Ivy had told her husband, would Viking tell the others? Surely not.

“I have a bodyguard.”

Remy snorted. “No offense,
cher
, but I’m thinking Paul here is ill-equipped to deal with insurgents.”

“I’ve had training,” Paul said. “I’m licensed.”

“Sorry, buddy, but downtown Baq in a few hours isn’t quite the same as nailing a weapons test in a controlled environment.”

“Think what you want, asshole, but I could nail your ass in one shot.”

“Can’t shoot what you can’t see, Paul. And trust me, if I was hunting you, you wouldn’t see me.”

Cash was gripping his weapon and looking about as mean as a scorpion. “Dude, I don’t know where you got that chip, but you need to chill the fuck out,” he said to Paul. “Save the pissing contest for another time.”

“Whatever. Fucking SEALs. Always think you’re the best at everything, don’t you?”

“Where’d you put that duct tape, Money?” Remy asked. “I’m thinking this guy needs to shut his face before I get pissed.”

Christina reached out and put her hand on Remy’s arm. It was like touching a hot iron in a way. She wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand away, but she kept it there while her heart hammered harder than before.

“Look, the situation is what it is,” she said. “I came to meet with Sheikh Fahd. I was leaving tomorrow even if he hadn’t signed the papers. It’s not Paul’s fault we didn’t go today.”

Remy whirled on her. God, he was intimidating. He hadn’t been so intimidating in her bedroom. Well, not true—he had, but in a completely different way.

“You shouldn’t be here, Christina. At
fucking
all. And you damn well know it. You’ve known it the whole time. But you came anyway, and you put yourself and this man in danger by doing so. Now you’ve put us all in danger as we work to get your asses out of here.”

Her blood was boiling, and yet guilt pricked her too. Maybe she shouldn’t be here, but what about these other people? Was she the only person they were here for?

“There are six civilians in this group. You would have been here whether I was here or not,” she said tightly.

“
You
have a connection these people don’t. And don’t think the Freedom Force wouldn’t figure that out if you were still in the city when the rebels took it. They’d march every single American—every foreigner—into a prison camp and start figuring out how to exploit the goods. Don’t you watch the fucking news?”

Fear gripped her. Yes, she’d watched the news. Yes, she’d seen the hostages and the beheadings. Everyone had. And yet it wasn’t here. Not in Baq. Not even close to Baq—though, geographically speaking, it was a lot closer to Baq than to the US.

She noticed he hadn’t confirmed what she’d said—that they’d still be here even if she wasn’t. She swallowed. “I’m here now, Remy. You have me. It’s going to be fine.”

He only glowered.