Navy SEAL to Die For (6 page)

Quentin’s nostrils flared and the towel around his waist tented. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes briefly as if looking at her without touching her was straining his control. “I couldn’t do it. You needed a break.”

“You need to sleep, as well.” She pushed her hair back from her face, watching his reaction as his gaze shifted down to her breasts. Becca almost laughed out loud at the hunger in his eyes.

Quentin shrugged those massive shoulders, making Becca’s core tighten. When she’d first awakened, she’d thought making love to Quentin had been a lush dream. But the delicious soreness of her sex was proof it had all be too real. Despite her announcement that there would be no regrets, she was beginning to regret her announcement to that end.

One night wasn’t nearly enough with Quentin. How the other women he’d loved and left must have grieved. He was that good, making Becca want more.

Quentin stood there, not making a move toward her, even though he was clearly aroused. What did she have to do to get him to come back to bed? Obviously, naked breasts weren’t enough.

She threw back the sheet and swung her legs off the bed. “You could have at least woken me in time to share your shower,” she said, making her voice soft and silky. Rather than throw herself at him and beg, she strode across the room, doing her best runway walk, every inch of her bare to him. As she neared him, she slowed and touched his chest. “I’d have scrubbed your back and anywhere else that itched.” She lightly patted his cheek. “Too bad.” Then she stepped around him and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Her body tingled all over after only touching his naked chest. Becca turned on the water in the shower and stepped in, shocked at how cold the spray was as it hit her body. She prayed it would cool the heat and ease the throbbing between her legs.

She lathered the tiny bar of soap and spread the suds over her face, breasts and down to the juncture of her thighs. Yeah, he could have had her again that morning, if he’d wanted her enough to take her up on the offer. But he hadn’t.

“To hell with him,” she muttered out loud and ducked her face beneath the spray.

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not nice to curse?” A deep, sexy voice said as large hands circled around her belly from behind and pulled her against a hard erection.

She leaned into him. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth.” He nudged her buttocks from behind. “And it was fairly obvious.”

“Umm.” She pushed the wet hair from her face and turned in his arms. “Is that what was hiding beneath your towel?”

He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her against the cool tile of the shower wall. “I had to get protection before I joined you. Fortunately, I had more than one tucked into my wallet.”

“They train that in BUD/S school?”

“Damn right. Never go into a situation unprepared.” He nudged her with his fully cloaked erection. “Now, what was it you were saying when I stepped in the shower with you?”

Becca lost track of the conversation as Quentin slid inside her, filling her to full, stretching her tight. “I said something?” she whispered, unable to drag in a complete breath.

The cool tiles against her back barely chilled the heat building inside, and did nothing to slow the wild beating of her heart. This man had her turning inside out with the strength of her desire for him.

She rode him until she climaxed, Quentin following right behind her. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she pressed her head back against the wall, her heart racing. She didn’t come back to earth until the shower’s spray turned cold.

Quentin lowered her to the floor of the tub and turned off the water.

The jangle of a phone ringing sounded from the next room.

Becca froze. “That could be Royce.” She galvanized into action, stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel and raced into the other room. The disposable phone continued to ring, the vibrations making it travel across the nightstand. It teetered on the edge as Becca reached for it.

As soon as she recognized Royce’s number, she hit the talk button. “Yeah,” she said, breathing hard after her mad dash.

“Becca? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She tucked the cell phone between her shoulder and ear and wrapped the towel around her body.

“I touch down in fifteen.”

“Just don’t run into any missiles on your way in,” she quipped, but really meant it. She liked her boss and didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

“We’re not flying into the airport. I’ll shoot the coordinates to you,” Royce said.

Her phone beeped, a text message coming through. She checked. “Got it.”

“Be there. I’ll brief you then.”

Becca glanced across the room at Quentin buttoning his jeans, a towel slung across his shoulders, his hair still dripping. “That’s our cue.” She handed him the cell phone and grabbed her clothing.

He entered the coordinates on the map application and studied the screen. “I know where that is. It looks like a race horse farm from the road. I didn’t know it was a landing strip.”

“Royce has contacts all over.” She jammed her feet into the baggy sweats and pulled them up over her hips. Then she dragged the T-shirt over her head, letting the towel drop to the floor. “Ready?”

He’d slipped on his shirt and pushed his feet into his shoes. Quentin straightened and headed for the door. “Wait for my signal.”

“We don’t have time.”

“You need to take the few extra seconds to play it safe.” He shook his head. “Otherwise, you’ll have all the time in the world if you’re dead.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. “Stay.”

Becca bristled. “I’m not a dog that can be trained.”

He tsked. “More’s the pity.”

Her lips pressing together, Becca crossed her arms over chest. “Fine. But get a move on. We have,” she glanced at the clock on the nightstand, “twelve minutes to get there, and I’ll be damned if I stand by and let someone take out Royce’s plane with a rocket launcher.” She followed Quentin to the door, but hung back.

Quentin poked his head out. A second later, he slipped through the opening.

Becca closed and locked the door behind him. She ran to the window and nudged the curtain wide enough to peer between its thick folds. For a second she couldn’t see Quentin, then she noticed movement in the shadows. Quentin hunkered behind an old Ford Bronco with peeling paint and unmatched bald tires. He glanced around the vehicle to the open parking lot at the center of the two motel buildings.

Becca prayed he wouldn’t run into anyone eager to put a bullet in his chest.

Chapter Six

Quentin worked his way through the parking lot, scanning vehicles, windows and doorways for possible gunmen. When he was reasonably certain the coast was clear, he slipped to the alley in back of the buildings where he’d left the SUV parked. After a quick check over the vehicle for any hidden explosive devices, he climbed in and jammed the key into the ignition. So far so good.

Careful to check for any suspicious cars before he left the alley, he eased out and around the building and pulled up beside the room he and Becca had shared the night before. She yanked open the door and jumped into the passenger seat.

“I feel like this is overkill,” she said, buckling her seatbelt.

Quentin pulled into the street and turned the direction the coordinates had indicated. “Better overkill than to be killed.”

“True.” Becca shook her head. “What I don’t get is why my father’s killers are now after me.”

“Did he pass any secrets to you before they got to him?”

Becca shook her head. “Not that I know of. Hell, I haven’t been home since I started searching for his killer.” Her eyes widened. “I wonder if he sent something to my apartment or to my post office box in Virginia. I didn’t think of that.”

“That might be the first place we head after we meet with Royce.”

“We?” She cocked her brows. “You have a job with the navy. You’re not a part of this case.”

“I became a part of it when you joined us in Cancun. And I made a promise.”

Becca rolled her eyes. “Seriously. I doubt Royce wanted you to be attached at the hip to me until this case is solved. Besides, you have a job here in Mississippi. And unless my knowledge of geography is off, Mississippi is a long way from Virginia.”

“I’m on vacation.”

“And you have three days until you have to report to duty.” Again, she shook her head. “Three days only gets you to Virginia, you still have to get back. Never mind solving a case.”

“My commander would let me have the additional time necessary.”

Becca reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Thank you for offering, but I don’t need your assistance. I’m a trained agent. I can handle this.”

“Helps to have more than one set of eyes.” He glanced at her. “Who’ll cover your six when I’m not around?”

“Have you considered that I might work better alone?” She stared across the console at him. “That’s what I do.”

“Well, as long as I’m on vacation, I don’t see any harm in tagging along with you.” He meant it, and he wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

She faced the front windshield. “Look, just because we slept together doesn’t mean either one of us owes the other anything.”

Quentin’s lips tugged upward. “Oh, I don’t know...” He gave her one of his killer smiles. “I think you owe me a steak dinner. I’m told I’m pretty amazing in bed.”

Becca laughed out loud. “I’ll buy you that steak dinner, but not because I owe you one.”

He nodded. “It’s because I’m amazing.”

She snorted. “Any of your conquests ever tell you that you’re full of yourself?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think about his answer, then said, “No. Not one of them.”

“Let me be the first.”

“Ah, I love firsts. I’ll be glad when we have our first official date.”

“What was last night?”

“Amazing,” he grinned. “But not a date.”

“You don’t ever give up.” She pointed at the street he passed. “Based on your GPS, you should have turned right back there.”

“I know.” The smile slipped from his face. “I noticed a car following us at the last turn. I’d just as soon lose it than lead it to our rendezvous.”

Becca swiveled in her seat. “Are you sure it’s following us?”

“No. But better safe than sorry.” He turned left at the next intersection and pressed down on the accelerator. “Let’s test this theory.”

He raced to the next street and turned left again. As he turned, he glanced over his shoulder. The car that had been tailing him was just turning onto the street he was leaving.

At the next street, Quentin turned right and whipped around a deserted auto repair garage and pulled into the alley behind the dilapidated building, parking behind a stack of old pallets and tires. He could just see around the pile to the end of the alley that led to the street he’d left a few seconds before. The car drove past, moving slowly. From what Quentin could see, there were two people in the front. One driving, the other seated in the passenger seat with the window rolled down.

“Seems awfully hot and humid to ride with the window down, in what appears to be a perfectly good vehicle,” Becca commented.

“My thoughts exactly.”

When the vehicle passed, Quentin pulled around the stack of tires and pallets and eased to the end of the alley.

“If you stop before the road, I can get out and check around the building.” Becca unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward, her hand on the door handle.

Quentin stopped short of the end of the building. “Do it, but be careful.”

Becca pushed the door open, leaped out and ran to the end of the alley. She peered around the corner, watched for a long moment and then ran back to the vehicle and dove into the open door. “They turned to the right two streets down. If we hurry, we can backtrack and lose them.”

Gunning the engine, Quentin shot out into the street and raced back the direction they’d come, glancing often in the rearview mirror.

Positioned in her seat to stare out the rear window, Becca said, “I think we lost them.” She turned to the road ahead and sat back in the seat. “How are they finding us? I don’t even have my own phone, luggage or clothing. Hell, I don’t even have any jewelry, and I’m not micro-chipped with a GPS tracking device.”

“Unless they traced us through Royce’s cell phone to the disposable.”

“Royce doesn’t give out his number to just anyone,” Becca said.

“Doesn’t matter if he’s being watched, too,” Quentin pointed out.

“If they found us by tracing us through Royce, they can find us again. Damn.”

“It also means they might go after Royce, if we don’t get there before they do.”

“They could be working with others.”

“Call Royce and warn him.” Quentin stepped on the accelerator and turned away from the coordinates Royce had given them.

Becca dialed and waited for Royce to come on the line. “Hey, we might have a problem.” She paused, listening. “Not good...an alternate location would be wise.”

“Tell him aim for the Stennis airport, but bypass and land at the Slidell airport,” Quentin advised. “We could get the jump on the others and meet him there.”

Becca passed on the information and added, “We’re ditching this phone, since we think it has been compromised. See you at the airport.” She ended the call and lowered her window. “So much for staying off the grid.” When she started to throw it out the window, Quentin stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Wait.”

A truck towing a horse trailer pulled to a halt at a four-way stop ahead.

Becca handed the phone to Quentin.

When the truck pulled past him, he lobbed the phone into the back of the empty trailer.

“That might help with our tail. Royce’s tail will figure out their change of landing location, but it will take time for them to get there.”

Quentin raced along the back roads toward Slidell, pushing the speed limits and praying the local police and sheriff’s deputies didn’t tag him. Being pulled over would drastically reduce all the time they might have gained by tossing their cell phone.

He didn’t like being out in the open, subject to a mercenary targeting Becca. The sooner they met with Royce, the sooner they could drop off the grid altogether.

* * *

B
ECCA
CHECKED
THE
side mirror often and turned in her seat, fully expecting to see another vehicle following them. Fortunately, the back roads were fairly clear. As they neared Slidell, traffic thickened. Quentin slowed their pace to match. Before long, he pulled off the highway onto an exit leading to the airport.

“Royce said they’d park the plane near the general aviation hangars. We could find them there,” Becca said.

Quentin drove past the passenger terminal entrance and around the airport to the general aviation hangars used by local businesses. “Where? There are quite a few hangars.”

As they passed one hangar, the tarmac was visible outside the next hangar. “There,” Becca pointed excitedly. “That’s Royce getting out of that small jet.” She shot a glance over her shoulder. “So far no tail.”

Quentin pulled into the parking lot. “Let’s make this quick.” He shoved open his door and hurried around to the other side of the SUV.

Becca was out before he could reach her door. She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

As they neared the door to the hangar, it opened and a man waved them inside. “I’m Joe Sanders, one of the owners of this hangar. Mr. Fontaine asked that you come inside quickly.” He held the door for them and watched the road as they entered. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it. “This way.”

They’d entered an office area with a front desk and a door with another lock. Sanders produced a set of keys, unlocked the door and led them through to the inside of the hangar, where several corporate jets were parked.

“Smith, glad to see you in one piece.” Royce Fontaine, the head of the Stealth Operations Specialists, hurried toward her, his hand outstretched. When she put her hand in his, he pulled her into a bear hug.

“It’s good to see you, Royce.” And it was. He was now the only father figure in her life.

“You’ve had quite a time between what happened in Cancun and here in Mississippi.” He glanced up at Quentin. “You must be Lovett.” He didn’t hold out a hand. “Let’s save the introductions and debriefs for the trip.” He turned, slipping Becca’s hand through his arm.

“Trip?” Quentin asked.

“We’re flying to New York. We’d better hurry, if we want to avoid another attack by our friends with the missile launchers.”

“Do you think they’d be bold enough to attack in a more populated area?”

“You want to wait around and find out, or move on to the next clue in this increasingly complex can of worms you’ve opened?” Royce didn’t wait for her answer. He continued toward the hangar door and out into the melting heat of the Mississippi sunshine.

The door to the plane was open and the steps were unfolded. Becca was first up. She turned to face Royce as he waited for Quentin to follow. “Royce, Quentin doesn’t need to go with us. He’s done more than his part to keep me safe.”

Royce turned to Quentin. “You’re back early from your vacation to Cancun, aren’t you?”

Quentin nodded. “I have three more days on my leave and could ask my commander for more, as long as there aren’t any missions slated.”

Royce nodded. “If you want to bow out, now’s the time.”

“I’d like to put an end to the threats to Becca’s life.”

Fontaine jerked his head. “Climb aboard. When the time comes, I’ll make sure you’re back to report in. And if this mission extends beyond your leave, I’ll make sure you’re cleared for more.”

“Let me guess, you have connections with the navy.”

“Not specifically. But I have some friends in the Department of Defense.”

“Really, Royce, I don’t need a bodyguard,” Becca protested as Quentin entered the aircraft and slipped past her.

“I have everyone else out on equally important assignments. I can’t pull them back, or I risk revealing them.” Royce turned to Quentin. “The man’s a highly trained SEAL and he’s willing. I say let him come if he wants. We could use more men like him on the team.”

Becca frowned. “As long as you remember he belongs to the navy. They’ve invested a lot of time and money into his training. I’m sure they’d like him back in one piece.”

“At the risk of sounding like an echo,” Quentin leaned close to Becca and brushed a stray hair out of her face, “I can take care of myself. And you, if need be.”

“Now that we have this settled, let’s get the hell out of here.” Royce nodded to the flight attendant, who closed the hatch and motioned for them to take their seats.

Becca sat in a plush contoured seat across a table from Royce. Quentin sat in the seat beside her, his thigh touching hers, sending tingles throughout her body. Damn the man.

If he continued to dog her every step, she could not be held responsible for her reaction to him. He was entirely too attractive for his own good. Having been outvoted, she sat back in her seat and pretended to ignore a man who was not all that easy to ignore, and focused her attention on Royce. “What do you have for us?”

The engines rumbled and the aircraft moved, taxiing toward a runway.

“I have your new identification documents, credit cards and cash to get you by. As soon as we’re in the air, I’ll show you what else you’ll be issued.”

The captain’s voice came over the intercom announcing their departure from the airport.

Becca stared out the window, a chill slipping down her spine. As the buildings shrank, she slowly relaxed.

Quentin covered her hand with his. Only then did she realize hers was shaking. She gave him a weak smile. “I really hate flying.”

“It’s all right. After what we’ve been through, you’re allowed.” He winked and laced his fingers with hers, then turned to Royce. The plane had leveled off and was headed northeast toward their destination. “What did you do with your cell phone?”

Royce smiled. “I gave it to the owner of the hangar. He was on his way to lunch. I asked him to drop it in the restaurant’s trash.”

Quentin nodded. “We have to assume all of your communications are compromised.”

“Understood. Our flight plan shows us leaving Slidell bound for Cincinnati, Ohio. We will be making a stop in Chattanooga to switch planes to continue our trip to New York.”

“Why New York?” Becca leaned forward. “Did you find out any more information?”

Royce nodded. “The authorities found a body in the bayou not far from where your plane went down. Beside him, they found a Soviet-made hand-held, heat-seeking missile launcher. The man had been murdered. A bullet through the head. From the description, it was fired from a high-powered sniper rifle.”