Hot SEALs: Guard Dog (Kindle Worlds) (Stone Hard SEALs Book 3) (8 page)

A celebration.

He pressed her back against the sofa cushions and covered her, kissing her, caressing her, inciting her to madness. He made her breathless, he made her wild. He made her want.

The knock on the door was an annoyance.

They both ignored it.

It came again. Harsher this time, more insistent.

Mason muttered a curse and leaned up, gazing down at her with an expression of regret. “I should see who it is.” He gently brushed her hair from her cheek and tucked it behind an ear.

“I suppose.”

With a sigh he rose and headed toward the door, grabbing his pistol from the table on the way. It was cold in his absence.

Pansy sat up and straightened her bodice, which he had rumpled, and reached for her coffee.

Damn.

It was cold as well.

* * *

Bristling with tension, Mason peered through the peephole, then gusted a sigh as he recognized the faces in the fisheye.

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or aggravated. Reinforcements had arrived. But shit, what lousy timing.

He shot a glance at Pansy. “We have company. They’re my coworkers. Are you ready to meet them?” She was going to meet them, whether she was ready or not, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

She brushed down her hair, though it was perfect. “Um, sure.”

Mason nodded, and opened the door.

A pity he’d forgotten how he was dressed.

Dane Coulter stepped into the foyer of the suite and stopped short. His sharp gaze ran up and down the lines of Mason’s terrycloth-clad body. His lips kicked up.

Shit.

Same response from Eli and Sander.

They all knew better than to say anything, but then, they didn’t need to. Their expressions said it all.

Mortification sliced through him and he pushed it away. He didn’t believe in regrets. A man should do what he needed to do and accept the consequences.

And he’d needed to fuck Pansy. Needed to claim her for his own.

Unwritten rules be damned.

Fortunately, the intensely awkward moment was shattered by an ominous clicking sound, followed by a barrage for furious, sharp snarly barks.

Lola, dressed in nothing but bling, skittered into the foyer and issued her complaints about this intrusion.

Mason smirked at their alarm and waved them in. “Gentlemen.” He closed the door and led them—around the slavering hound—into the living room. “Pansy Hightower, these are my coworkers. Dane Coulter.” He waved to Dane. “Dane was an Army Ranger for fifteen years. And this is Eli Cotton, former SEAL and John Sander, Special Forces. Gentlemen, Pansy Hightower.”

A chorus of
ma’ams
resounded. They were, of course, punctuated by the shrill percussion of Lola’s rant. She danced around the men, keeping a cautious distance, but railing at them nonetheless.

“Please have a seat and we can start the sit-rep,” Mason said, but when he sat next to Pansy, his friends stared at him. “What?”

Dane crooked a brow. “Aren’t you, um, going to get dressed?”

“Yeah, dude,” Sander snorted, the fucker. “I just don’t know if I can focus, wondering if your junk might fall out at any moment.”

Mason frowned. “My junk will not fall out.”

“Still,” Eli said with a shrug.

Mason huffed a sigh and turned to Pansy. “Do you mind?” As male snorts rounded the room, he pinned them, one and all, with a glower. “She’s understandably nervous around strange men.”

Their expressions sobered. As well they should. But Mason suspected the effort was only for Pansy’s benefit.

“I’ll come with you,” she said as she stood. And yeah, she missed all the eye-rolls.

“Don’t be long,” Dane warbled and Mason glared at him.

“Enjoy the dog,” he snipped in response.

Don’t be long.

As if.

It would serve them all right if he did exactly what they were intimating, and take her back to bed and fuck her nice and slow while they cooled their heels in the other room. The fucks.

“They seem nice,” Pansy said, as she padded into the bathroom and picked up his jeans and shirt. 

Nice. Right.
“They’re good guys. We make a good team.” This he said because it was important she trust them, trust them all, if they were to keep her safe. He reached for his underwear and froze. “Shit.”

“What?”  Pansy whirled to him.

He pointed. “Shit.” Yeah. Right there on his briefs. A tiny steaming pile of it.

She snorted a laugh, which he didn’t appreciate.

“That was my only pair.”

She waggled her brows. “I guess you’ll have to go commando.”

Meeting with his friends while swinging low. Awesome.

But there was little choice. He dressed quickly and then led her back into the living room.

To his horror, his friends had found the breakfast tray and finished all the food. Even the bacon. To make matters worse, Dane was sitting in the arm chair with
Lola on his lap
. She gazed up at him adoringly.

He tried not to pout. About the bacon, or the feckless dog.

He took his seat on the sofa and Pansy sat next to him. He refilled her coffee cup—this could be a long discussion—but when he went to fill his own cup, the pot was empty. He forbore glaring at his friends, all of whom had full cups.

Pansy nudged closer and whispered, “We can share.” Which he liked. He liked it a lot, even though it made Dane smirk.

He glared at his friend. “How did you get the dog to shut up?” he asked. He had to. But what he really meant was,
how did you get that dog to like you?
Not that he cared. He didn’t. But it did kind of annoy him.

Dane shrugged. “It was easy.”

Easy my ass.

Eli chuckled. “She likes bacon.”

Oooh. The bastards.

Pansy yelped, not unlike a disgruntled Chihuahua. “You did not feed her bacon!”

Mason blinked. He’d never heard her use such an imperious tone. He was glad it was directed at Dane, who paled.

“Um, maybe a little.”

Her expression went ferocious. “Do not feed my dog.”

“It was just a little bacon.” Oh my. Silly Dane. Mason crossed his arms and leaned back to watch the show.

Pansy leaped to her feet and stormed over to the enormous warrior; he shrank before her vehemence. She snatched her dog from his lap. And while he did not like seeing her that close to anyone’s lap, the look on Dane’s face was priceless. “Bacon is full of nitrites. It’s not healthy in the least.”

“Yet you ordered it for me?” he asked, although he should have kept silent.

She pinned him with her stare. “You are not a tiny creature with a delicate constitution.” He glanced at Lola.
Delicate constitution? Hookay.
“And you are not a compulsive bacon thief.” She whirled around and glowered at each of the men in turn. “Now that she’s had another taste, there’s no telling to what lengths she’ll go to get more. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Dane shrugged. “I was just trying to make friends—”

“Do not feed my dog.” She tossed herself onto the sofa next to him. Lola, in an attempt to escape her fury, slunk on to his lap.

He shot Dane a smirk. “Don’t feed the dog,” he said.

Dane’s eyes narrowed. He cleared his throat. “Shall we get to business?”

Recalled to the purpose of the meeting, Mason straightened. “By all means. What did you find out?”

Eli pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped through it. “Okay. Sander and I apprehended the four in the desert and we…” He shot a look at Pansy.

“We
questioned
them,” Sander finished for him. His smile was bright.

Mason had no doubts how that questioning had gone. “And?”

“They couldn’t tell us who’d hired them.”

Shit.

“All contact took place through a go-between. A guy named Hester. Obviously a pseudonym. He didn’t pop up on any of our searches. But we did get a piece of information that may mean something to you, ma’am.”

Pansy’s muscles bunched. He probably shouldn’t have, in front of everyone, but Mason settled his arm around her and stroked her shoulder. She glanced up at him and all his reservations melted away. She needed him, at least in this moment. And by God, he’d be there for her no matter what anyone thought.

“What is it?” Her voice trembled. He tightened his hold.

“They told us their orders had changed.”

Sander nodded. “Originally they were to detain you until the ninth of September and then let you ‘escape’. But then new orders came in.”

Yeah. Orders to
kill
her and dump her in a shallow grave.

“Do you have any idea what would spark such a change?”

Pansy’s brow furrowed. She shook her head. “No. I…” She paused. Her throat worked. “September ninth? I was supposed to be released on September ninth?”

“Pretty specific date,” Dane murmured.

She turned up her chin, stared at him with wide eyes. Her lips worked.

“What is it, hon?” he asked.

“The vote. The one I told you about…”

“The one your stepfather is pushing for?”

“It’s on the eighth. Tuesday.”

“How far do you think he would go to get what he wants?” Mason had a suspicion and the thought chilled his blood.

“Have me kidnapped, probably. But killed?”

Mason fixed his attention on Eli. “Did they mention when the orders changed?”

Eli flipped a page. “Last week.”

Pansy took his hand. Her fingers trembled. “When last week?”

“That’s it. Just last week.”

“So let’s recap,” Mason said. His OCD side liked to have all the pieces in order. “Steven calls a vote to reorganize the company, but he waits until Catherine is out of country. He allegedly hires some bad guys to kidnap Pansy and keep her from the vote, but then changes his mind sometime last week.” He glanced at Pansy and stilled. He didn’t like how pale she’d gone. “What is it?” he asked.

“Last week I lost touch with Aunt Catherine. I don’t know if there is a connection but…”

Mason nodded to Dane. Can you connect with command and get a sit-rep on Catherine Hightower?”

“She’s in China,” Eli said. “Gage’s team is on her.”

“Yeah. I’ll call—just to be sure.” Dane pulled out his cell and stood, walking over to the foyer.

“So,” Sander said. “We’re working off the supposition that this Steven dude is our baddie?”

“Seems logical.” Mason nodded.

Eli pinned his gaze on Pansy. “Do you have any other enemies?”

She blew out a breath and lifted her hands. “I’m on reality TV.”

Mason frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

She patted his hand. “There are always crazies out there. Bizarre emails, strange packages. Hate mail.”

What the fuck? “Why the hell don’t you have a security team?” He didn’t mean to bellow. But he did.

She tipped her chin. “I know Jiu-jitsu.”

“Really? Didn’t help you much last night, did it?”

“My hands were tied.”

He wanted to throttle her. “Hardly the point.”

“Kids. Kids. Kids. Keep it down,” Eli said. “You’re scaring the dog.” Indeed, Lola had slunk into her cage.

Mason set his teeth. “You should have a security detail.” 24/7. He should be on it. Always. Forever.

“I know that.” Her admission was soft, broken. He hated that. Hated that he’d done that to her, made her embrace her vulnerability. But seriously. Shit. She was not safe without him. She could not do this alone.

“Okay.” Dane snapped his phone closed as he came back into the room, capturing everyone’s attention. “Yeah. First of all,” he turned to Pansy. “Your aunt is safe.”

She collapsed against him and he held her close.

“There was a
small
incident in Hong Kong.” From Dane’s tone, Mason knew it had not been a small incident at all. “There was an explosion and it seemed like we’d lost the target—”

“Lost the target? What does that mean?”

Dane paled. “I…ah…”

“They thought she was dead, sweetheart,” Mason whispered in her ear. “But she’s not.”

She turned to him. He could see the thoughts flickering through her mind. “Do you think Steven thought she was dead? And that’s why he changed his orders?”

“That’s exactly what I think. I think he realized he didn’t need a vote to assume control, if you and your aunt were suddenly out of the picture.”

She nodded. Brackets appeared around her mouth as she thought the disturbing scenario through. “The board of directors would have little choice but to vote yes on his proposal.” Her throat worked. “That bastard.”

He did not know why tears pooled in her eyes, but they ruined him.