Protected by a SEAL: Hot SEALs (Volume 5) (19 page)

“Retro is in, sweetie. Keep up with the times.” Roger dropped his hold on Sierra and moved toward where Rick stood by the open trunk. He extended his hand. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

And there came the guilt, because Rick had done far more with Sierra than protect her. What they’d done together gave
close-security
a whole new meaning.

Rick accepted the man’s hand, but not his thanks. “Just doing my job.”

His job as her bodyguard. Oh, he’d guarded Sierra’s body, all right.
 

“Well, I appreciate it anyway. And I’ll make sure to tell your boss that.”

Rick controlled the smile and nodded. “Thanks.”

He and
his boss
had been to hell and back, a few times, over their years in the teams. After surviving BUD/S together, and DEVGRU, somehow Rick didn’t think Jon would be performing annual employment evaluations on him.

Apparently done with the hired help, Roger turned back to Sierra. “Ready to get back to work tomorrow?”

“You don’t even know how ready. Are the producers mad at me? And the director must be livid I threw off the schedule.” She cringed.

 
“Not at all. They’d rather have you miss two days of shooting than be—you know—actually shot.”

She laughed. “I guess so. Good point.”

As he slipped her carry-on over his shoulder and grabbed the handle on the suitcase, Rick held back the comment that the shooting was nothing to laugh about. It was a real fucking threat and she and her manager should be taking it more seriously.

“Here you go.” Rick set the suitcase on the ground by Sierra and handed the shoulder bag to Roger. “You all set here?”

“I think we’re good.” Roger answered his question then directed his attention to Sierra. “I got you the best suite they had. Nice view of the water out the back.”

Good. A view of the water meant no building to act as a sniper hide with a bead on Sierra’s window.

Rick didn’t mention that. This case was closed.

The police had arrested the fan who’d sent Sierra all those letters. And they’d recovered proof from his residence—photos of her.

The case should be over.

So why was Rick’s sixth sense stabbing at his brain like a red hot poker?

He drew in a breath and pushed the sensation aside. He had to get through this goodbye first. He could obsess over the source of his worry after that.

“I’m, uh, gonna take off.”

Roger turned to Rick one more time. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” Again. Rick looked at Sierra. “So, good luck with the uh, you know, movie and all.”

“Thanks.” She stepped forward and surprised him with a tight warm hug that pressed her soft body against his from tits to thighs.

Christ, that felt good. He didn’t want to let her go. But after a squeeze in return, he stepped back. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She turned immediately back to Roger. “Do you think I should meet with the director today? Just to see if we can juggle the schedule a bit to make up for the missed days.”

Rick strode around the car. She’d already gotten back to her life. Time to get back to his.

Through his sunglasses from behind the wheel of the car he watched her walk away. He remained there until he could no longer see her through the glass doors of the lobby. Only then could he bring himself to start the engine and drive away.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 21

 
“Hey, bro. Good to have you back.” Chris jumped up from the sofa to greet Rick the moment he pushed through the front door. He grabbed Rick in a one armed, back slapping hug.

“Thanks.” Rick dumped his duffle on the floor. He’d have to get the cooler out of the trunk, unload the leftover food from his little trip, and then put his weapons back in the safe. Or maybe not. “Hey, after I get the car unloaded, you want to go to the range?”

He had the sudden urge to shoot something. That might get rid of some of this excess energy. Settle his mind.

“Yeah, sure.” Chris nodded, following Rick out the door to the car parked in the driveway. He grabbed one end of the cooler out of the trunk while Rick grabbed the other.

“You have to ask Darci first?” Rick tried to keep the judgment out of his voice as he’d asked it. Though the term
pussy whipped
did come to mind.

“Nah, she’s at work.”

Rick paused. “She’s at work and you’re here alone?”

Chris stopped too, mainly because Rick had the other end of the cooler. “Yeah. I was waiting on a load of laundry. Darci’s sheets.”

Rick couldn’t help that his brows shot up at that info. Hanging out and watching TV when no one was home. Doing laundry—the sheets Chris had no doubt sweated up last night with Darci.
 
Was Chris living here now and Rick just hadn’t gotten the memo?

Chris drew in a breath. “Look, dude. If you have a problem with me being here so much—”

Rick shook his head, cutting off Chris. “No. I’m sorry. I really don’t. I’m just stressed from the drive.”

“I’m really here because I knew you were on your way home and I wanted to talk to you. The laundry was just an afterthought. I swear, dude.”

“It’s okay. Really. I wanna run over Sierra’s case too. That is what you wanted to talk to me about, right?”

“Yeah. Things don’t feel right.”

“I know. That’s exactly how I feel.”

Chris nodded. “Come on. Get this shit inside, then we’ll head to the range and I’ll fill you in on everything in the truck.”

That was the best plan Rick had heard all day. “Sounds good.”

In the kitchen, they set the cooler on the floor. Rick opened the lid and the Pandora’s box worth of memories it contained.

He would have left all the extra food in North Carolina if there hadn’t been a note to renters on the fridge saying they had to remove everything before leaving.

As he took out the open carton of milk he’d carried home from the beach house Rick did his best to not remember Sierra’s lips wrapped around that coffee mug this morning.

That image led directly into the memory of her lips wrapped around his cock. Yeah, that was not good on any level, but especially bad with Chris standing next to him.

Time to change the subject “So, you need to stop home and get your bag before we hit the range?”

“Nah, I have my range bag in the truck, and my guns on me.”

Rick glanced up. Sure enough, Chris was wearing his waist holster and probably his leg holster too. That wasn’t something he made a habit of doing, as far as Rick knew.

“Something up?” Rick asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Chris glanced in the cooler. “Let’s finish this shit and get going.”

“Okay.” Curious now, Rick did exactly that.

A few more items stowed away and Rick had the cooler out on the back deck, dumped upside down and drying in the sun.

Chris stood, keys in his hand by the front door. “Ready?”

“More than ready.” Rick scooped up his weapons bag and followed Chris outside.

Inside the truck, Chris pulled onto the main road and then shot Rick a glance. “So, we turned those letters over to the cops.”

Rick nodded. “Yup. That I heard.”

“Well, they tracked down the guy easy enough. It seems he’s at the same post office like once a week, bragging to the clerks how Sierra Cox is his girlfriend. He has a damn post office box there, so of course his home address was on file.”

“Wow. That seems too fucking easy.”

“Exactly what I thought. So they go to the guy’s place and bring him in. Easy, no struggle, no fight in him. He’s happy to go and talk to them. They also search the apartment and yeah, they find pictures, which the cops take as proof. But there’s one problem.”

When Chris paused and glanced across the cab, Rick asked, “What problem?”

“Not a one of those pictures was taken from that camera we found inside her bathroom. Not one even matched the pictures delivered to her trailer in that envelope. They’re all far away, fuzzy shots taken while she was out in public. Coming out of some boutique carrying a shopping bag. Going into a coffee shop. Getting into her limo.”

“Shots anyone could take without having access to her room.”

Chris tipped his head. “Yup. Now, here is the kicker. Ask me where the guy they arrested lives.”

“I’m going to assume not around here.”

“Nope. In fucking Florida. Right where they arrested him.”

“He have an alibi for two days ago when Sierra was targeted at the lot?”

“He’s a loner who does odd jobs, so no. No alibi, which the police are using as proof they got the right guy. He owns a car so they say he could have driven here, taken that shot at Sierra, then driven back home.”

Rick drew in a breath. “Why would he leave town? The job wasn’t finished.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“How do you know all this?” Rick asked.

“I took the cop we were working here with out for drinks last night. We bonded. He’s ex-Navy. So late this morning I get a call. It’s him inviting me to come to the precinct to take a look-see at the photos of the evidence found in the suspect’s apartment in Florida.”

Rick shook his head as Chris swung the truck into a parking space in the shooting range lot. “You and your damn southern charm.”

The man always could talk his way out of any situation and into any door he wanted.

Chris shot Rick a grin as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. “You complaining?”

“Hell, no.” But Rick didn’t like what Chris had found out.

The cops were shoving all of this evidence into a neat little box marked
guilty
when none of it proved anything except that the guy liked to take pictures of her in public and send Sierra letters. And maybe he was a little—or a lot—delusional about the closeness of their relationship.

What if the cops were wrong and the shooter was still out there? It explained why Chris was walking around armed and why Rick couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

When they were both out of the truck and crossing the parking lot, heading for the door, Rick asked, “Did you tell Jon all this?”

Chris shook his head. “Jon and Zane are on a flight to HOA. They left this morning right after they got the call about the arrest. That was before I met with the cop.”

Shit. Jon and Zane would be out of touch for hours. It might be two days worth of flights and layovers before they got to Djibouti. And even after they landed, they’d probably be too busy to be checking in on a case that everyone except Chris and Rick considered closed.

Still it wouldn’t hurt to shoot them an email in the hopes one of them would check. Rick opened his mouth to say exactly that when Chris squinted past him. “Any reason there would be a car tailing us?”

“What?” Rick spun to see what Chris was talking about.

“Blue Buick. Newer model. Virginia plates. It’s been on us since I pulled onto the main road by your house. I didn’t think much about it, until now. It’s parked across the street.”

“Paparazzi maybe?”

“Hoping you’re meeting Sierra here at the gun range?” Chris asked, his hand on the door handle as he laughed.

“Maybe. Who the hell knows. These guys are money hungry—” Rick didn’t get to finish.

It felt like a hard punch to his chest delivered by an invisible fist. At the same time that Rick was reeling from the percussion, Chris reacted. He leaped forward, yelling something Rick couldn’t hear past the rushing in his ear.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, Chris on top of him shouting. He didn’t understand why.

The only thing Rick could think was to wonder why his hand was wet and warm when he pressed it to his chest just over his heart.