Protected by a SEAL (Alpha SEALs, Book 6) (16 page)

She turned the corner at the stairwell,
ready to head to the parking lot, and screamed as a large hand
suddenly landed on her shoulder. It was heavy and huge, and she
jumped a foot in the air, her heart racing as it tightened.

“Ella,” Brent’s deep voice ground out from
behind her.

Jesus Christ.

She’d turn around and yell at Brent if she
wasn’t so relieved it was just him. Maybe Frank still had her more
on edge than she wanted to admit. She took a deep breath and
finally turned to face him, trembling as pent up adrenaline and
fear raced through her. An array of emotions crossed his
face—anger, concern, relief. Tiny crinkles lined his ice blue eyes,
and the dark scruff on his jaw might’ve made him look sexy as
hell—if she wasn’t still fuming at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked,
pulling away. “You scared me to death!”

“Fucking hell, you’re shaking,” he said, his
eyes running up and down her body as he appraised her. He reached
out a hand, and she jerked away. “I thought you heard me behind
you.”

“You just grabbed me! What do you expect?
Ever hear of speaking up? Maybe calling my name before you grab
hold of my shoulder? You were sneaking up behind me like some kind
of stalker or something.”

Anger flared in his eyes. “Well maybe you
should be more aware of your surroundings!” he snapped.

She flinched back, and surprise etched
across his face. “Shit. I’m making a bigger fucking mess of
things,” he muttered, running a hand over his short cropped hair.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes slid over her again, making
her insides go molten all of a sudden. The cargo pants and dark
blue tee shirt he had on did amazing things for his body—all
bulging muscles and hard lines. And she knew what his hard body had
felt like moving over hers—and what it had felt like as he’d pulled
away. Walked out the door.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

His gaze landed on her upper arm, and she
froze. In her haste to leave, she’d forgotten to cover the bruise
with make-up. Or to change into a top that would conceal it butter.
Her face flamed as shame and embarrassment filled her.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his eyes
narrowing. His voice deadly.

A thousand excuses flew through her mind,
but none of them sounded legit. Or in any way believable. And none
of them would appease the massive, angry-as-hell SEAL standing in
front of her. A man who looked like he wanted to murder whoever had
touched her.

“It’s nothing.”

“You have bruises on your arm shaped like
fingers. Who. Did. This.”

***

Anger seethed inside Brent at the thought of
another man touching Ella. Grabbing her. Hurting her. Whoever the
hell had grabbed her arm had squeezed so hard they’d marked her.
Left bruises on her tender skin. Probably made her cry out in
pain.

And she was fucking
his
.

His to protect. His alone to kiss and touch
and caress. To pleasure. To make cry out, but only in ecstasy.

Fat tears began to slide down her cheeks,
and Brent stood watching. Helpless. He’d flown out on ops all over
the goddamn world, taken men’s lives with the pull of a trigger,
without a second thought, but the sight of her in tears nearly
crushed him. She looked so small and scared at the moment—too thin
in that little top and shorts she had on. Too fragile with marks on
her slender arm. And the man who had done this to her was going to
fucking pay.

Suddenly, his stomach dropped. What if there
were other bruises he couldn’t see? On her stomach or ribs or…on
her inner thighs as a man had held her down. Raped her. Done other
unspeakable things.

He was at her side in two seconds, wrapping
her up in his arms. Needing to hold her as much as she needed him.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, his lips at her ear. Her slender frame
collapsed into his, and he tightened his hold on her. “I’ll protect
you. No one will hurt you. Ever. But tell me who did this, Ella,
because I’ll fucking rip their arms off with my bare hands.”

She trembled, clutching onto him, burying
her face in his neck. “It was—”

She was cut off by another gut-wrenching
sob, and Brent was torn between holding her and wanting to race off
and beat the shit out of whoever did this. No doubt her asshole of
a manager had some part. She’d been back in Florida one fucking
day, back on her shift at the cocktail lounge, according to
Brianna, and this is what happened? Either that prick or some other
bastard had touched her.

Icy dread snaked through him.

Thank fuck he’d flown down here. The rest of
his team had thought he was bat-shit crazy chasing after Ella, but
after seeing this? The alternative wasn’t something he wanted to
consider.

“Ella, sweetheart. Are you hurt anywhere
else?”

Shit. When did he gently ask a woman
questions? He gave commands. Demanded answers. But with her? Seeing
her in pain was about to bring him to his knees.

“No,” she finally mumbled, and he exhaled a
breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

“Let’s go inside. Then you’re going to tell
me exactly what happened. And I’m going to fucking murder
someone.”

She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.
“I’m right down the hall,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned
away and took a step, then swayed slightly to the side.

“Shit,” he said, his arm snaring her around
the waist. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t eat much today,” she
said, her hand rising to her forehead. She shook her head, as if
trying to clear it. “I was on my way to the store to pick up some
food.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” he asked
incredulously.

“I had a bagel this morning,” she said
lightly.

“And the rest of the day?” he demanded,
following right at her heels as they moved back down the hall.
She’d slipped from his embrace as he’d looked down at her in
disbelief, but he wasn’t letting her out of his sight without some
answers.

It was dark out, and he could just make out
a few palm trees swaying in the breeze, lit by the streetlamps in
the parking lot. The warm night air felt ripe with tension—but was
that because of Ella or some other sort of trouble that was
brewing? His Glock was still tucked safely in the back of his
pants. And he wouldn’t hesitate for a split second to use it if
needed.

“I was busy looking for a new job. It
must’ve just slipped my mind.”

His jaw tightened as she unlocked the door
to her apartment. She was being evasive, and they both knew it.

The door swung open, and his eyes ran over
the small studio as he stepped inside. Her bed was tucked back in
the corner, the lavender bedspread pulled neatly up. There was a
small white table with two chairs off to one side of the room. Her
laptop. A basic dresser. Kitchen area. And not much else.

Good God.

If he opened her fridge and cupboards, would
those be bare? There was nothing on her countertops. No food. No
carryout containers. No plates or utensils. She’d quit her job a
few weeks ago, that night he’d first met her. Had she just been
barely scraping by all this time? Why hadn’t she asked Brianna for
help?

“Home sweet home,” Ella said. He felt a
strange sort of masculine pride at being in her personal space. His
eyes roamed to her bed again. Ella’s bed. Shit. This wasn’t the
time to be thinking with his dick. His gaze flicked back toward
her, and his eyes narrowed at how pale she was.

“You need to eat something.”

“Right. I don’t have much here….”

“I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his
phone, quickly texting Matthew. Brianna would have Ella’s address,
and she could order whatever groceries she thought Ella would need.
Brent would foot the bill, but shit. Almost passing out from lack
of food? Not gonna happen on his watch. He’d take Ella to the damn
store himself if he wasn’t about to track down the asshole that
left her arm black and blue.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and
glanced around again, realizing the entire place smelled like
Ella—fragrant. Sweet. Good. He could tell she was still pissed at
him though, judging from the way she watched him with hands on both
hips. Her ire would have to wait—because as soon as she said a
name, he was out of here.

Tracking that motherfucker down.

“Tell me what happened.”

She looked startled for a moment but quickly
recovered. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.

“It matters to me. If someone is hurting
you, I want to know about it. If you’re scared, I want you to tell
me. If you’re frightened of someone, I’ll protect you. And if you
tell me who did this, I’ll be out of your hair this instant,
because I’m going to fucking kill them. Now start at the
beginning.”

Ella looked uncomfortable. “Frank said he’d
give me my old job back.”

“Yeah. Got that part.”

“But he wanted…he said….” Fresh tears rolled
down her cheeks, and it took every ounce of Brent’s strength not to
go to her. She needed to get this out. To tell him what
happened.

“I thought I could handle Frank, but I was
in way over my head. He wanted to see me outside of work. Told me
that I had to sleep with him. I told him no, and he threatened to
take my job away. Some of my student loans fell through for next
year, so I was desperate. I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him, but
I guess he thought he could pressure me. He said he wanted a
kiss.”

“And the bruises?”

“He, uh, grabbed me in the hall last
night.”

“At work?” Rage burned through him.

“Yes. I came out of the bathroom, and he was
pissed that I’d dropped an entire tray of drinks. The guys at the
table were total assholes and deserved it. I was going to quit
right then and there. But Frank followed me into the back hall. He
grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me go.” Ella sniffed, her watery
gaze meeting his. “Then he made me go down the hall to his
office.”

Brent wanted to wretch. To spew everything
he’d eaten all day long. Because nothing terrified him more than
someone hurting her. “Did he force you?” he asked, his voice
steel.

Ella shook her head, wiping away the tears
streaming down her face. Unable to resist any longer, Brent strode
across the room, once again collecting her into his arms. She
exhaled, burying her face into his chest, and he wanted to roar in
approval at the rightness of having Ella in his arms. At holding
her close. Keeping her safe. Despite the rage burning through him,
she was here. She was all right.

“What happened in his office?” he demanded,
trying to keep his voice steady.

It would kill him. It would just fucking
kill him if that bastard had touched her.

“He said he wanted a kiss,” she
whispered.

“So you kissed him.” His gut churned.

“No. He grabbed the top of my dress and
pulled it down,” she said, choking out a sob. “He pushed me against
the wall—”

Her voice broke off, and Brent held her
tighter. Brushed his lips over the top of her head. Forced himself
to remain cool.

And vowed to rip the guy’s fucking heart
out.

“He just—he wouldn’t—”

“Shhhh. You’re safe now. You’re safe. I
won’t let him touch you ever again.”

She whimpered and nodded, dampening his
shirt with her tears.

“I was just there at the cocktail lounge
before I came to your apartment. Frank wasn’t there, but I’m going
back to find him. He’s in some deep shit—some other men were there
looking for him, too, rummaging around in his office. And they were
fucking pissed. Is he in some kind of trouble that you know
about?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, pulling away.
“Probably, knowing him. It wouldn’t surprise me. And he’s been
calling and texting me all afternoon.”

“Did you talk to him or respond?”

She shook her head no.

“Don’t. Something’s not adding up. He should
be there on a Saturday night. His bartender thought he was in his
office, but all I found were some assholes looking for him. Said he
owed them money. I’ll get his home address from his files if I have
to. Track that prick down. Stay here, and don’t open the door until
I get back.”

“But I have to go out. I still don’t have
any food here, and I wanted to get a couple of things at the
grocery store.”

“I had Matthew order groceries for you. From
one of those delivery services. Don’t open the door for anyone but
the delivery guy.”

“Brent, I can’t afford that. Seriously. I
can’t even—”

“Damn it. I’m not letting you starve
yourself, Ella. You almost passed out in the hallway. You’ll get
your new job and get on your feet again, but right now? I’ll take
care of it. I can afford some damn groceries.”

“Brent—” she protested.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said,
effectively ending the conversation.

“What are you even doing here? Why’d you
come down to Florida?”

“We’ll talk later.”

Ella didn’t say anything, just looked at him
with wounded eyes, and his heart clenched. Her gaze skittered
around the apartment, like she didn’t know what to believe. She was
dealing with a lot of shit from her boss, with the stress of barely
having enough money to scrape by, and the last thing she needed was
him to make her life more complicated.

But that’s exactly what he planned to
do—complicate her life. Make her his.

“Ella.”

She met his gaze.

“We’ll talk when I get back. He will
never
touch you again. Never. Don’t leave this
apartment.”

“I won’t.”

“I protect what’s mine,” he growled.

Brushing a kiss across her forehead, he
turned to the door. Ella looked completely bewildered—shocked he
was there, upset about what happened. No doubt still also pissed at
him. He’d take her anger though just as long as she was safe. Just
as long as that asshole didn’t touch her ever again.