HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) Page 20

  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 fundraising, 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.”

  Christina 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.

  32

  “Is he going to live?”

  Christina couldn’t stop shaking. Her body simply would not take the cues to stop. She was dressed now, so she wasn’t cold. And she was free, so she wasn’t afraid for her life.

  But she was afraid for Remy. He’d been brought to the hospital over an hour ago and there’d been no word since. The SEALs in the waiting room with her exchanged looks before Viking, who’d arrived shortly after they’d reached the hospital, said, “Remy’s tough. We have to wait and see.”

  Remy’s entire team was here, and they all kept saying he was tough. But that wasn’t the answer she wanted, so she kept trembling and praying and trying not to lose her shit.

  The doors to the waiting room blasted open just then and Matt came striding in, Evie on his heels. Christina got to her feet and stumbled toward him. He wrapped her in a hug, and she started to sob.

  “Honey,” her brother said. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “B-b-but Remy’s not,” she wailed.

  Evie joined the hug, enveloping her from the other side. The three of them stood that way for a long minute, Christina crying and Matt and Evie just holding on.

  Oh how she loved these two.

  But she also loved Remy. She knew that now. Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot not to realize that’s what she felt for him. It took watching him drop after taking a bullet for her to know that she loved him like she’d never loved any other man. He was her other half, the missing piece that made her feel complete.

  And she might lose him before she ever got to tell him that. Why hadn’t she told him before he’d passed out from the blood loss and shock? That thought only made her cry harder.

  Matt steered her over to the chairs and sat her down in one. Evie dropped beside her and took her hand. “Do you need anything, sweetie? Something to drink or eat?”

  “No,” she whispered past the razor blades in her throat. “Nothing.”

  She looked at the men gathered there, her heart aching so hard. They would blame her for this. And why not? She blamed herself. She could have done more to make sure Ben didn’t hurt anyone. If she’d only realized that he wasn’t himself anymore, that he’d lost any semblance of reality he’d once known. Something in his head had twisted irrevocably.

  She didn’t know what had happened to him after the ambulance came for Remy, and she didn’t really care. Not right now. Whatever it was, she hoped he spent a very long time in prison.

  The doors opened and a surgeon came out. He was wearing green scrubs, but that’s not what caught her attention. It was the smile on his face that made her heart soar with hope.

  “Who’s here with Remy Marchand?”

  “We are,” Viking said, indicating the whole group.

  The surgeon looked at them all and then cleared his throat, choosing Viking to address his remarks to since he seemed to be the leader in that moment.

  “We expect a full recovery. The bullet passed between two ribs and…”

  Christina didn’t hear what else the doctor said. Her brain swam and blackness crept into the edges of her vision. She must have made a noise because Evie patted her back.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s going to be all right.”

  “Oh God,” Christina said, pressing her hand to her mouth to prevent a wail from escaping. Heaven help her, she was as uncontrollable as Penny had been back in Qu’rim. “I want to see him.”

  She didn’t remember standing, but she was. Standing and facing the doctor, her hands clenching at her sides. She had to see him right this minute or she would burst.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no visitors tonight. If you come back tomorrow—”

  “Mattie,” she said, turning to her brother. “Do something. Please.”

  “Chrissy—”

  “No, do something. Call someone. I’m not leaving here.”

  “Honey, we aren’t next of kin. Mrs. Doucet can’t do anything,” he said, referring to the Girard family lawyer. They had a lot of lawyers working for Girard Oil, but Mrs. Doucet was the best. She looked like someone’s idea of a Hallmark Channel–movie grandmother, but the woman was a shark.

  And to hear she couldn’t do anything? That made Christina want to crumple. Except that she couldn’t. She had to fight for her right to see the man she loved.

  “Baby,” Evie said, sliding into view. “You have other people you can call. The colonel, or even Garrett Spencer.”

  Christina’s heart hammered then. Garrett “Iceman” Spencer was one of Matt’s coworkers—or teammates, more appropriately—whose father-in-law was the newly elected president of the United States. Hell yes, the president-elect could get her in to see Remy.

  “Please, Mattie,” she breathed.

  He took his phone out. “No promises, but I’ll try. Give me a few minutes.”

  It was dark when he awoke, though not pitch-black. There was a pain in his side. A dull, throbbing pain that sent lightning bolts through him when he shifted. Remy blinked and stared at the ceiling. Then he turned his head and spied the screen that recorded his vitals.

  That’s what the fucking beeping was. Jesus, he’d been fighting that sound for a while now, thinking it was a bomb about to go off. But of course that had been a dream and the bomb was simply the hospital equipment doing its job.

  Thank God, because no matter how he tried, he couldn’t find the bomb. He shifted, groaning at the searing pain in his side.

  “Remy?”

  Someone touched him. Cool fingers on his forehead and cheek. He knew those fingers.

  He reached up with the hand that didn’t make his side ache and caught them.

  “Christina?”

  She came into view, hovering over him, her dark hair flowing over one shoulder a
s she did so.

  “Yes, it’s me.” She squeezed his hand. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I got hit by a truck.”

  She made a noise that he couldn’t quite identify. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

  He didn’t know what she meant. And then it hit him that she was here with him, and she was safe. Jesus, the last thing he remembered was jerking Ben Scott’s legs out from under him. He hadn’t known whether the fucker was still alive or not, but he’d known his team had arrived because of the vibrations of their footsteps pounding up the stairs and through the floor upon which he lay. He’d only prayed they’d get to Christina before Ben could get off another shot.

  Which they had, apparently.

  “What happened?” he croaked. “And why does my throat hurt?”

  She reached for something across the bed and then put a large cup with a handle and a straw into his hand. He took a drink of water.

  “Your throat is still raw from the breathing tube they used during the surgery. The doctor said you’d need to hydrate.”

  “Hydrating,” he said, taking another sip.

  “You got shot,” she said. “Ben w-was trying to m-make me…”

  He squeezed her hand, fresh anger flooding him at the thought of what her ex had been forcing her to do. Seeing her tied up like that, so vulnerable and helpless. God, it had nearly killed him. “I remember.”

  “You threw yourself at Ben. He shot you. But I stabbed him with the scissors—though it was only a flesh wound—and you knocked him out when you jerked his legs from under him. Your guys arrived after that.” She swallowed. “Cash put a blanket over me. I was terrified you were dead, and I’d just stabbed Ben—though I didn’t know it was a flesh wound. I was hoping he was bleeding out on the floor, quite honestly, while he was knocked out cold.”

  Remy’s mind whirled at everything she said. “You stabbed him.”

  “Yes. But he shot you—and it’s all my fault, Remy.”

  He thought she was crying, but he wasn’t sure. “How is it your fault? I launched myself at him. But Jesus Christ, honey, I couldn’t let him do that to you. You were going to do it for me, I know—but I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t let it happen.”