HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) Page 8

  She found Matt in the darkened kitchen. He was sitting at the table, laptop open, the blue light bathing his face. She knew what he was doing—or she suspected, anyway.

  “Honey,” she said, and his head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, but she knew he could get by on little to no sleep. It’s what a Special Operator did. What her badass husband did.

  She knew more than she should about his job, but it had taken time to learn these things. He hadn’t told her, but he hadn’t needed to. She’d figured it out. Well, most of it, she thought. He’d tell her if he could, but that was the nature of the military—some things were secret and had to stay that way.

  She knew he was an operator—not operative, like in the movies, but operator. That was the correct term. And she knew he went to war zones and did things there that were necessary to the safety of the nation.

  And she knew that, right now, he was dying inside because Christina was over there and he wasn’t. She suspected that Colonel Mendez had sent someone, but she was grateful that someone wasn’t Matt. Not right now. Not when she needed him here.

  “You should be asleep.”

  She walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. “I woke up. You weren’t there.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat. “Couldn’t sleep. Christian and Alex went down quickly, so I decided to look at the news. Qu’rim is in bad shape right now.”

  She reached for him and gripped his hand. “She’ll be okay, Matt. I know she will.”

  “She shouldn’t be there. Fucking old man and the business.”

  Evie’s heart pinched like it always did when she thought of Matt and his father. She knew more than she’d ever known when they were growing up. She knew how mentally abusive his father had been and how much Matt still despised him. She also knew that his father wasn’t the same man he used to be, just like they weren’t the same people they’d been as kids. People evolved. It was simply the nature of life, which was much more complex than platitudes would have you believe.

  Good men could become evil. Evil men could become good.

  But she was on Matt’s side first and foremost. Always.

  “I don’t think anyone forced your sister to go, honey. Christina’s been… not quite the same since what happened with Ben.”

  Matt curled his fingers into a fist. She didn’t think he knew he’d done it. “Motherfucker,” he growled. “He didn’t deserve her.”

  “No, he definitely didn’t. But it happened, and Chris has been running ever since. I don’t think your father had much to do with her decision to go to Qu’rim.”

  “No, but he didn’t stop her either.”

  Evie squeezed his hand. “Do you really think anyone could stop her from doing whatever she wanted to do? Christina is fierce, Matt. Fiercer than any of us realized. She’s a dynamo, and she won’t take no for an answer. Just like someone else I know.”

  He blinked. “You mean me?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Of course I mean you. Fierce, proud Girards. You don’t quit. If your father had told her not to go, she’d have cussed him out and gone anyway.”

  His smile was soft and weary at once. “Yeah, maybe. But damn, did she have to go to Qu’rim now of all fucking times? If she’d told me what she’d planned, I’d have stopped her.”

  “Which is probably why she didn’t tell you. Look, I know you can’t discuss it, but I’m going to guess that she’s in good hands over there. If I know Mendez, and I think I know a little about him after everything that’s happened, he’s sending in the cavalry. If they’re anything like you, she’s going to be just fine.”

  He tugged her hand until she had to sit in his lap. Which she did not mind at all. Matt was big and solid, and she loved how protected she felt when he held her. How loved.

  His hands roamed over her hips, up her sides. He didn’t touch her breasts, and she sighed.

  “You can touch me, Matt. It’s okay.”

  “You haven’t been getting enough rest.”

  “Then make me come and I’ll fall asleep so fast your head will spin.”

  She felt the response happening beneath her as he grew hard at a rapid rate. “Evie, Jesus, I want that. But the twins take so much out of you. You need to take care of yourself first. I’ll be fine.”

  She wanted to bop him over the head. Since she’d had the babies two months ago, he hadn’t tried to have sex with her even once. At first she’d been pretty grateful for that. Now she was growing frustrated.

  She cupped his head in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Look, this is taking care of myself. Because if you don’t get back to providing me with sex on a regular basis, I’m going to be forced to buy a vibrator and replace your fine ass with a piece of rubber or latex or whatever they’re made out of. I need you, Matt. Unless you’re too upset about Christina, in which case I understand. But when she gets back home safely, I’m going to expect some performances in the bedroom or there will be dire consequences.”

  He was gaping at her, but his cock hadn’t grown soft. If anything, it was harder now. “What kind of dire consequences?”

  “I already mentioned Tank.”

  “Tank?”

  “What I’m going to name my vibrator. It’s going to be the biggest, hardest, best thing in the catalog—”

  He dragged her down and took her mouth with his. That was the end of the conversation—and the beginning of several orgasms that left her weak in the knees and very, very satisfied.

  Christina couldn’t get comfortable in the van. After the SEALs had returned with news of the roadblock, they’d decided it was time to leave by a different route. But one of the vans wouldn’t start, so they’d gotten to work on the engine while the civilians climbed back into the vans to wait. Christina dozed as the minutes stretched by, waking with a start at the sound of explosions in the distance. She didn’t know how far they’d gotten from Baq, but it wasn’t far enough because the RPGs and gunfire still sounded so close.

  Christina pushed herself up from where she’d tried to sack out on a bench seat and yawned. The interior of the van was dark and stifling. Across from her, Penny snored softly. On the floor, Paul stretched out on his back, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, totally quiet. He reminded her of a vampire, quite honestly.

  Her eyes were gritty and there seemed to be sand in everything, even inside. She brushed it off as best she could and then stumbled carefully on numb legs toward the door. She needed air, and she unfortunately needed to pee.

  The two SEALs on guard turned around as she emerged.

  “You need to stay inside, Christina.”

  It was Remy’s voice. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, really. Someone else she could talk to dispassionately. But Remy? Jeez, it was all she could do to form complete sentences at this point.

  “I have to pee. And don’t tell me I can’t, because I’ll pee in the van—which probably isn’t a good thing for any of us.”

  She took a step—and then gasped as she got a look at the skyline behind the convoy of stopped vehicles. She’d known it was on fire earlier, but it seemed to have spread. The entire sky glowed.

  Remy’s expression was grim. His hands rested on the weapon slung over his chest. He looked as if there was nothing much going on, but she suspected he could change in a heartbeat if the situation required it.

  “How did it happen so fast?” she breathed. “They weren’t supposed to be able to take the capital.” That’s what all the news reports had been saying for days. Clearly, they were wrong. Tragically, horribly wrong.

  “Priorities change, cher. Someone somewhere decided they no longer cared if Baq resisted or fell.”

  She turned to him, her heart throbbing. “You mean America stopped caring, don’t you?”

  “It’s an unpopular war. We aren’t the only ones who want out.”

  She gazed at the long line of vehicles, her throat tight. It was a mess. A humanitarian
crisis. “Where will they all go?”

  “Anywhere they can. They’ll spill over the borders, some won’t get out at all, and some will die in the fighting.”

  Nearby, a baby started to cry. That was the worst part of all—that children were caught up in this. Whole families were fleeing the only lives they’d ever known, desperate to get away from the conflict between the government and rebels.

  “Who’s going to win?”

  “Hard to say. The king still has the advantage monetarily. And he has a disciplined army. But the rebels fight like they have nothing to lose—they fight dirty and hard, and that’s not easy to overcome.”

  She tried to process that.

  “What happens if the traffic doesn’t start to move soon?”

  “That’s not our problem, cher.” He motioned toward the other side of the convoy. “You have to pee or what?”

  “Yes.” She hated the idea of these people being stuck here with a war behind them. But what could nine SEALs do? Nothing at all, unfortunately.

  “Then do it in the shadow of the vehicles. I’ll keep watch.”

  “Um…”

  “What?”

  “Paper? Is that possible?”

  He reached into the van and handed her a glob of what turned out to be tissue. Christina picked her way around the side of the van and found a spot. When she was done, she went to where Remy stood guard with his back to her. He turned at her approach, his gaze slipping over her for a second.

  “Thanks,” she said, her skin heating with the intensity of that look.

  He waited for her to walk past him before he followed. She stopped and spun around before she reached the van door. He frowned.

  “Can I just stay out here for a little while? I can’t sleep, Penny’s snoring, and the explosions don’t help.”

  He pulled in a breath before snorting it out again. She was certain he would tell her no.

  “Twenty minutes, Christina. And you don’t move outside the perimeter we’ve set up.”

  Which was all of about ten feet, but whatever. It was still freedom. “Okay.”

  She ran her hands up and down her arms, shivering.

  Remy frowned. “You’re cold.”

  It was partly adrenaline, partly the night air, but she nodded. “A little bit.”

  “Then you should definitely get back inside.”

  “I was cold in there too.”

  He went over to the van and pulled out his pack. Then he rifled through it and handed her a shirt. The camouflage material was warm, and she wrapped it around her body, hugging herself. The tail was almost to her knees. If she had a belt, she could make a dress.

  When she looked up, Remy was watching her with a hard expression. Her heart skipped a beat at the possessive look in his eyes. Fire kindled in her belly at that look. She remembered what it was like to be possessed by him—again and again, until she was languid and spent and so satisfied she could barely lift her head off the pillow.

  Why had she put an end to that again?

  Because he’s a man. Because you don’t want to get hurt. Because getting hurt is inevitable.

  “You look at me like I kicked your puppy,” he growled, and her heart pinched tight.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Fucking hell, stop with the apologies. I get that you feel guilty. I get that you don’t know what to say to me. Just pretend like it never happened, all right?”

  “All right.” Her throat ached and her eyes stung, but dammit, that’s what she’d wanted him to say, wasn’t it? Pretend like nothing ever happened. It was a one-night stand, over and done with. Time to act normal.

  A shout split the night, making her jump like a frightened rabbit. Remy caught her as she careened into him. His arms around her were steady. The gun at his chest felt awkward between them, its cool metal bulk unforgiving against her midsection.

  She was in the process of taking a step backward, trying to put distance between them, when a bright light arced into the sky. A second later, a deafening kaboom shattered the air and kicked her in the chest.

  13

  As the shock of the explosion rolled over the convoy, Remy shoved Christina behind him as if he could somehow protect her from a second blast. People screamed. The air was heavy with the scents of metal, fuel, and charred flesh.

  Remy flipped down the NVG visor attached to his helmet and scanned the darkness. Shapes ran across his field of vision, the flames from the detonation licking the vehicles about a quarter mile or so back.

  His team sprang into action the moment the blast happened, every man either scouting the perimeter, protecting the civilians in their custody, or guarding their position from enemy fire.

  “Goddammit,” Viking said into Remy’s earpiece. “Get down there and see what’s happening. We’re going to have to abandon this van and cram into one. It’s looking like the only choice.”

  Remy acknowledged the order, pushing Christina into Cowboy’s arms before hurrying down the line toward the blast site with Money and Camel. They wouldn’t get too close, but they needed to assess the situation before they bugged out.

  Remy’s stomach churned with disgust and anger the closer they got. People were in shock, huddling together, screaming, crying. There were disembodied limbs on the ground, bodies twisted into unidentifiable lumps, and the strong odor of bleach.

  He exchanged a look with his teammates. This blast wasn’t military grade but very likely triacetone triperoxide, aka TATP, manufactured by an extremist group. The components were easy to acquire, and the process wasn’t too difficult.

  That meant the fires were coming from the exploded gas tanks of the vehicles and not from the TATP itself, which produced a lot of gas rather than flame when it detonated. It was also highly volatile, which meant a small amount could inflict heavy damage.

  Sonofabitch.

  He hated the pain and fear he saw on people’s faces, but there was nothing he could do about it—and that was a sick fucking feeling to have. It brought up every rotten ghost in his past, every skeleton he couldn’t bury. He’d joined up to help protect his nation, but sometimes that meant making hard choices. Like now when the SEALs had to get the hell out of here instead of helping the injured.

  “Report.” It was Viking’s voice in his ear.

  “TATP. A lot of dead and wounded.”

  “Fuck,” Viking said. “Are there any medical personnel?”

  Remy scanned the area, focusing on the men and women who ran back and forth between the victims, stooping down and then yelling for aid. Presently someone appeared with a medical kit.

  “There appear to be some medics on scene.” No idea where they’d come from, but since the city was emptying out, the chances of them being in the convoy were as good as any. They couldn’t save anyone in need of surgery—no one could—but they could save those who could still be helped.

  “Thank God,” Viking muttered.

  Suddenly Remy spotted a man with a rifle silhouetted against the fires before he ducked behind a vehicle a few yards back. It could be nothing, but in this situation it didn’t pay to take a chance.

  “Gunman at six o’clock,” he barked to his guys. They dropped as one unit into the sand. “See anything, Camel?”

  Alex Kamarov was their sniper. Camel could take down target after target for hours without missing a beat. All the SEALs were expert marksman, but Camel was the one who could take the difficult shots and make them work every time.

  Camel had his eye to his scope. “Nothing.”

  At that moment, a bullet whizzed over their heads before the sound of the shot cracked into the night.

  “Son of a bitch,” Remy said into the mic. “We’re taking fire.”

  Just what they fucking needed with the carnage all around them. These people had been through enough tonight, and now this too.

  “I can go around,” Camel said. “Twenty yards to the left and I’ll have a clear shot. But you two need to keep his attention.”

 
“Yeah, go on, we got it,” Remy said.

  “Don’t lift your head for more than a split second,” Camel warned. “If he’s any good, you won’t have time to wonder if he’s going to shoot.”

  “Yes, dear,” Money drawled.

  Camel slunk away into the night while Remy kept his gaze on the vehicle where the gunman had gone. He couldn’t see any legs, which meant the guy was either hiding behind the tire or not there anymore.

  Still, if they were going to give Camel a chance, he had to raise his head. He lifted up and then ducked back down. Another bullet whizzed overhead. This dude had definitely tagged them as a target.

  Money popped up this time and another bullet sounded in the night. And then a second bullet sounded, only this one came from the left.

  “Mission accomplished,” Camel said coolly in their ears.

  “Thank fuck,” Viking replied. “Get your asses back here. We’re leaving ASAP.”

  The three of them humped it back to the group. Cowboy and Viking were waiting outside the vans, both of which were now running. Remy breathed a sigh of relief. They could have all crammed into—and on top of—one van, but it would have been rough going.

  “We’re going to split into two groups again. If we have to go our separate ways, we can.” Viking eyed him. “What do you think about our gunman?”

  Remy shrugged. “Opportunist. If there was anyone looking for us, they’d have sent more than one guy. I think he saw us in our gear, identified us as Americans, and decided to take the shot.”

  “Agreed,” Camel said. “I saw no one else in the scope, no other activity or signs of an enemy.”

  “It’s possible that’s who got blown up,” Remy added. “If a group of tangos were transporting TATP, it could have exploded and killed everyone—except this guy who might have been out taking a piss.”

  “That’s likely,” Viking said. “That shit is seriously unstable.”

  Cowboy took out a map and Viking ran his finger along a route. Of course they had GPS, but they still did things old-school too. You never knew when you’d be out of range of a satellite, or when everything would go to hell and you had to know how to navigate and survive without aid.