HOT SEAL Rescue (HOT SEAL Team - Book 3) Read online

  HOT SEAL Rescue

  HOT SEAL Team - Book 3

  Lynn Raye Harris

  Contents

  Preface

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Also by Lynn Raye Harris

  About the Author

  Preface

  The HOT SEAL Team

  HOT SEAL Rescue: Cody & Miranda

  © 2016 by Lynn Raye Harris

  Find me:

  [email protected]

  http://lynnrayeharris.com/

  Lynn on Facebook

  Lynn on Twitter

  HOT Readers and Fans Group on Facebook

  Sign up for Lynn’s Newsletter

  About This Book

  Abducted at gunpoint by a gorgeous woman…

  Navy SEAL Cody “Cowboy” McCormick is in Las Vegas for a little R & R before his friend’s wedding when a beautiful blonde jams a gun in his side and abducts him from a casino in broad daylight. He could stop her, but he plays along because he’s intrigued—plus he’s convinced she’s in danger.

  CIA agent Miranda Lockwood’s life is on the line when an undercover operation goes wrong. Little does she know when she sashays up to the biggest, baddest looking dude in the casino lobby that she’s kidnapping a Navy SEAL—or that she’ll be unable to resist his charm when he turns up the heat.

  When the CIA labels her a rogue agent, Miranda’s faith in everything she believes in is shaken to the core. Cody’s the only one she can trust to help her find the traitor in the agency. But even though she’s forced to betray him, she can’t get over the SEAL who made her feel safe in his arms. Miranda will have to fight harder than she’s ever fought for anything if she wants his forgiveness—but Cody’s not in a forgiving mood in spite of the sparks that still fly when he’s forced to team up with her again.

  When disaster strikes and they’re caught in the line of fire, Cody will do everything in his power to keep them both alive. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll never get to hold Miranda close again…

  NOTE: If you read the first part of this story in SEALs of Summer 3, this is the complete book. If you wish to skip ahead to the point where the next part begins, go to Chapter 16. Or you can enjoy the entire story from the beginning.

  1

  “Sweetie, there you are! Thank God!”

  Cody “Cowboy” McCormick watched the woman approaching him in the lobby of the Venetian with an appreciative eye. She was utterly gorgeous, the kind of woman who made heads turn as she strode along on a pair of pencil-thin stilettos that looked positively painful. There were a lot of gorgeous women in Vegas, but this one had that extra something that drew the eye like a magnet.

  He turned his head, looking for the lucky guy she was about to put her hands on—and maybe her lips. He didn’t see a smiling dude anywhere. When Cody turned back to her, she was nearly upon him.

  And then she was by his side, reaching for his arm, her flowery scent stealing into his nostrils and making him almost giddy with the sweetness of it as her fingertips brushed his bicep.

  “Baby, my goodness, I thought you’d never arrive,” she purred, winding her arm through his and wedging herself against his side, her smile bright and mesmerizing.

  Luscious red lips. Cascading blond hair. Long fucking legs even though he calculated that without the heels she was probably around five foot five or so. Bright, almost golden, eyes stared back at him.

  Too bad she was a loon, because she sure was mighty appetizing.

  He opened his mouth to tell her she had the wrong guy, but her fingers tightened on his arm—and that’s when he felt the hard, round cylinder pressed into his side. He let his gaze drop. Her hand was in her tiny purse, and that purse was jammed against him, the gun barrel unmistakable as it dug into his side.

  His first instinct was to disarm her. He could take her down easily, but not without doing serious damage to the bones in her arm. Still, she was threatening him—and pretty as she was, that wasn’t going to fly.

  But there was something in her eyes, some look that said I’m not crazy, honest. Help me.

  He lifted his gaze then and scanned the lobby area. There was a stocky man staring hard in their direction. He had three men with him, big and dressed in the quintessential suit of the professional bodyguard, while he wore what was clearly a custom pin-striped suit and chunky gold jewelry. He looked like a typical Vegas big shot—or a big shot wannabe.

  Cody didn’t like the man on principle. He looked down at the woman beside him again. Her lips were parted, her lipstick shiny and begging to be messed up.

  But was she really trying to get away from these men, or playing him for a mark on someone’s orders?

  He didn’t know, and he didn’t have long to decide. But he could play her game for a little bit. See what she was up to. Decide whether to disarm her and send the others packing or rescue her from harm.

  “How about a kiss, sugar?” he drawled. “I’ve missed you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s get into the car first, all right?”

  She shoved the pistol into his side even more. She deliberately didn’t look back at the three hired goons who’d now started moving toward them. But he knew she sensed them coming because of the way her mouth hardened into a flat line. Was that a hint of desperation flaring in her eyes?

  “Take me to your car, honey. Now.”

  “Sure thing, sugar.” He’d made his decision. Whatever was happening here, she was not working with those men. He put his arm around her shoulders. She tensed, but she didn’t shrug him off. They strolled toward the entrance and then out into the hot Vegas air, though it was nearly sunset now and things were cooling off.

  The traffic in front of the hotel was jammed with cars and taxis. Picking up, dropping off, waiting. He didn’t know where she thought they were going, but getting anywhere fast on the Vegas Strip was impossible. The taxi line was packed with people, but he walked up to the bellman and handed him a twenty.

  “Need a taxi. Now.”

  The man took one look at the woman hanging on Cody’s arm and then grinned as he pocketed the money. “You bet, man.”

  The bellman signaled for a taxi, and one careened up to the curb. He opened the door, and Cody and the woman got inside while people in the taxi line grumbled. The door slammed.

  “Where to?” the taxi driver asked.

  Cody lifted an eyebrow as he studied the woman. “Well?”

  She still had the gun pressed into his side. She took a deep breath, her breasts swelling against the tight red material of her wrap dress. “Where are you staying?”

  “The Rio.” It wasn’t the best casino in Vegas, but it was cheaper than those on the Strip. Plus his cousin worked there, so Cody got a great rate whenever he was in town.

  “Then that’s where we’re going. The Rio.”

&nbs
p; “The Rio,” the taxi driver said. “Got it.”

  “And hurry,” the woman said. “There’s a fifty in it for you if you get us out of here in the next two seconds.”

  Just then the men from the hotel burst onto the portico, and the driver jammed the gas. Cody didn’t know how the man did it, but he found a slot in the traffic and shoved his way through without scraping metal. Somehow they were rolling toward the street.

  Cody reached up and slid the glass partition closed so he could talk to the woman without the driver listening in. “Care to tell me your name?”

  She eased back against the seat, her purse still pointing at him. Her eyes sparked. The creamy swells of her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. It was distracting. She had a small waist beneath those amazing tits. He wondered if they were fake but decided they weren’t when the taxi bumped over the curb as it turned onto the street and her flesh jiggled.

  “Call me Jane,” she finally said.

  “Well, Jane, do you plan to tell me what’s going on?”

  “No.”

  At least she was honest. He turned and looked behind them, but there didn’t appear to be any signs of pursuit. Not that anyone could pursue easily in this traffic. Unlike in the movies, it would be a slow car chase where drivers honked and cussed and traffic lights lasted for what seemed like hours.

  “So what happens next?”

  She glanced behind them, the tension in her body not easing one bit. “We go to the Rio. You get out and go your way. I’ll go mine.”

  “Aren’t you considerate? Planning to drop me off after kidnapping me in broad daylight.”

  “It was necessary.”

  “Why’d you pick me? There were half a dozen men standing around in there.”

  Her lips tightened, and then she shrugged. “You were alone. You’re big and kind of tough-looking—and you were staring at me like you’d like to get into my panties. I needed a way out, and you were there.”

  Yeah, perhaps he had been staring. A man would have to be dead not to want into those panties. But he figured he wasn’t the only one who’d been looking. Still, she’d chosen him out of all of them.

  “Didn’t it worry you that I might not cooperate?”

  She snorted. “Not especially. I can be persuasive when I need to be.”

  “The pistol, you mean.”

  “It gets the job done.”

  “Is it real?”

  She blinked. “What? Of course it’s real.”

  He shrugged. “They make lighters that look like guns. Probably feel remarkably the same when concealed in a purse.”

  “It’s a Sig P239. Guaranteed to put a hole in you, sweet cheeks. Don’t try me.”

  Cody’s interest took a giant leap. Sig Sauer P239s were used in spec ops. Semiautomatic, 9mm. Small enough to be concealed in an evening purse—but wicked enough to blow holes in anything that got in the way. His official weapon was in a locker back at the base, unfortunately. His personal ones were in his house. Not one of them where they would do him any good.

  If he’d driven to Vegas instead of flying, he’d have been armed. As it was, he had nothing but skill and training to get him out of this situation.

  Not that he was worried about it. Still easy to disarm her, though she’d turned her body against the door and faced him across the rear seat, her hand still inside the purse.

  “So you’d shoot me in front of a witness?” He tsked. “Not too bright, is it?”

  Her golden eyes were flat. “I’d have to shoot him too. So don’t make that happen, all right?”

  2

  Miranda Lockwood’s heart thumped even as she tried to concentrate on slowing it down. She’d learned some breathing techniques, a few thought experiments—and they usually worked whenever she did them. The aim was to center her focus and make her ready for whatever assignment she’d been given.

  This one— God, this one was a clusterfuck. How had Victor Conti known she wasn’t what she’d claimed to be? She’d spent months studying him, months planning this mission—and her cover’d been blown within days. The only saving grace was that he’d been so certain of his ability to punish her that he’d revealed the information too soon.

  If he’d waited until they’d been somewhere more private— Well, she wouldn’t be here now. Wouldn’t be in this tiny taxi with this infuriatingly calm and seriously sexy man.

  That chiseled jaw— Heavens, she didn’t think they really made those anywhere but Hollywood. But Henry Cavill had nothing on this guy.

  Miranda drew in a deep breath and told herself to concentrate. She had to get out of this mess. She had to ditch this guy, find a car, and make contact with her handler. Then she had to get out of Vegas before Conti’s people found her.

  Jesus, what had she gotten herself into?

  “You look troubled, Jane.”

  She almost didn’t respond, but then she’d told this guy her name was Jane, hadn’t she? She didn’t know why she’d done it considering it was her actual middle name. Her cover name was Tiffany White, and she’d spent a long time getting accustomed to answering to that. Months, goddammit.

  And now it was over. She hadn’t stopped Conti from doing anything. Hadn’t found out where the hub of his business was or where he was shipping the guns and drugs. She also hadn’t found out a thing about Mark. Hell, she’d promised she would find Mark’s killer, but she still hadn’t managed it.

  Four years in the CIA, eight months since Mark’s death, and she still didn’t know a damned thing. All she knew was that she missed him. He’d been her mentor, her lover at one time, and her friend.

  And now he was gone, his life snuffed out in a single moment by someone in Conti’s organization. She was certain she was on the right track. But holy fuck, now what?

  “Jane?”

  She snapped her gaze to Mister Tall, Dark, and Sexy. He had coal-black hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin that said he’d spent time in the sun. His chest was broad beneath his white button-down. He wore faded jeans and cowboy boots, and her tongue nearly tripped over itself as her eyes made the journey from those boots back up to firm, kissable lips.

  Well hell, since when had her libido decided to return? She’d been with no one in over a year. To feel the stirring of desire now was inconvenient—and definitely not happening, no matter how sexy this guy was.

  And hey, just because he was big and brawny didn’t mean his dick matched the exterior package. What a disappointment that would be. Not to mention, though he looked tough, he most likely wasn’t. A gym rat who appealed to the ladies because of his physique, but put him in a do-or-die situation and this pretty boy was going to die more likely than not.

  “Yeah, cowboy?” she tossed out with more than a hint of contempt.

  His brows drew together for a second, and she wondered if she’d insulted him. Then she shrugged mentally. Who cared if she had? She wasn’t going to see him ever again. In about ten minutes, they were parting ways forever.

  “I’m not a danger to you,” he said. “You don’t have to grip that gun so tightly. Relax a minute, breathe while you can. Those guys aren’t far behind, but they’re far enough.”

  She sucked in a breath. How would he know? “Doesn’t matter how far they are. They know who I am now.”

  Jeez, had she really just said that? She was slipping. Dammit, Mark, why did you trust me in the first place?

  “And who are you, Jane?”

  There was an ache in her chest. A knot in the pit of her stomach. Who was she? Hell, she’d like to know that herself. She’d never really known. She just reinvented herself for whatever job came along and then pretended it didn’t matter.

  But that wasn’t what he was asking. He was asking for her name, the name those bastards now knew. How had that happened? The moment she got Badger on the phone, she was going to find out what the ever-loving fuckity-fuck had gone wrong back there.

  “Nobody important. Just a girl with bad judgement.”

  The taxi pu
lled into the circular driveway of the Rio, and Miranda thought about what would happen next. She’d head into the casino, make her way through to the parking garage, and then she’d borrow a ride.

  Basic but effective. Keep changing the dynamic. Confuse the bastards until she could get to the safe house. She just prayed the safe house wasn’t compromised. Considering how badly this day was going, nothing would surprise her.

  “Go around to the side,” she ordered. “The bus loading zone.”

  The driver shrugged. “Your money.”

  But he did as he was told. She glared at the big dude she’d abducted when the taxi came to a stop. “Don’t forget the extra fifty,” she told him when he dipped into his wallet.

  He glanced up at her as he took the bills and thrust them through the window. Another second and they were out on the street. She searched the surrounding area, looking for any signs of Conti and his men.

  She spun and started walking toward the casino.

  “Hey.”

  She glanced up at Mister Tall, Dark, and Sexy. He kept pace with her, striding through the doors of the casino and into the smoky hell it contained.

  “You can go now, cowboy. Thanks for giving me some cover.”

  “I think you’re in trouble, Jane. I think you could use some backup.”

  She stopped and a cocktail waitress deftly spun around her before they collided. The casino wasn’t crowded yet, but it was getting there. The smoke permeated the air in spite of the filters that sucked it out, and the bells and whistles of the slots rang with abandon. Scantily clad women carried trays of drinks between slots, and people hunched over machines, cigarettes dangling from mouths while they kept pressing the button to bet again.