SEALed With Love (DiCarlo Brides book 2) (The DiCarlo Brides) (2 page)

“He didn’t want me to introduce myself yet. We hoped I might be able to spot the stalker if I wasn’t too close to you. The letters you turned over to the police were pretty freaky.” Despite the otherwise intimidating exterior, when Joel said this, his jaw softened slightly, making him seem not quite as scary.

How did her father always know what was going on in her life, even when she didn’t tell him? She decided to take this hulk of a man up on his offer to check his identity. “Give me a minute, then.” When he removed his hand from the door, she shut and locked it, then fished her cell phone from her shoulder bag.

On the first try, the call rang several times, then went to voice mail. She hung up and called again—their agreed-upon signal that the conversation was urgent. If there was any possible way he could answer the second call, he would. 

After three rings he picked up the phone.  “Hey, honey, is everything all right?”

“There’s a man standing outside my door. Joel Watts.”
Enormous, imposing, dark
. “He said you paid him to follow me.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to someone else. There was the sound of movement in the background, like her father was standing and moving away from a desk or table. “I’m sorry, sweetie. He was supposed to stay in the background for now. I didn’t want him to interfere or worry you.”

Sage felt her pulse begin to calm and the terror gripping her softened, though experience said it would take several more minutes to entirely dissipate—if she was lucky. “Dad, you didn’t have to hire someone.”

“Yes, I did. I was worried about you when I got a report about what was going on, and you never told me about it. You can trust Joel with anything, I promise. Look, I’m sorry, I’m in a meeting right now, but I don’t want to brush you off.”

She smiled, knowing he’d make everyone wait for her if she needed it. “No, that was the only urgent issue. I get off at five; call me this evening when you get a chance.”

“I will, and you’re in good hands. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Sage closed her flip phone and held it in her hand. So Joel really was working for her father. She gave herself a few more minutes for the panic attack to subside before she turned to the door, unlocked and opened it. “Come in.” She gestured for him to take a seat and stepped out to verify the time of her next appointment before shutting herself in the room with him.

“How tall are you, exactly?” Sage asked as she leaned back against the door, studying him.

“Six-four.”

 Making her feel even shorter than she had before at only five-three. “And you’re a body builder?”

“Former Navy SEAL, actually.” An unhurried smile spread on his face, transforming it completely. “Staying in shape is part of the job.”

“Of course.” Her dad would never settle for less than the best. Taking a deep breath, she offered him her hand. “Maybe we should start over again. I’m Sage Parker.”

His hand dwarfed hers, surrounding it in hard warmth. “Joel Watts, I’m here to keep you safe.”

For the first time in months, she thought she might be able to relax again.

Joel was relieved that Sage was smart enough to check in with her father, and then relaxed with him—at least a little. He glanced at the comfortable-looking treatment chair and then back at Sage. “Aren’t you supposed to be like a masseuse or something? Can you do massage on one of those?” It seemed like an odd shape—didn’t they usually use padded tables?

Sage chuckled. “I specialize in reflexology.” He must have looked as clueless as he felt because her lips quirked and she brushed back her unruly brown curls. “I focus on whole-body wellness through the feet.”

 That had him looking down. She wore sandals, had her toe nails painted bright pink and sported silver toe rings. He never knew feet could be so sexy, but they fit the package from her pixie proportions, to her wild brown curls and haunting gypsy eyes. “If you say so.” Time to focus back on the reason he was there, though he’d been dying to get a closer look at her since her father had sent him her picture nearly a week earlier. “Your dad wanted me to stay incognito for a while longer, but I decided it would be best if I spoke with you after you spotted me. Again.” She always seemed to know when he was nearby. He could usually blend into the background when he tried—especially in a crowd that size—her ability intrigued him.

He continued. “I know you’ve been receiving notes and emails, but without more information, the chances of me catching him are minimal. The police reports only had a few details. What do you know about this guy?”

“Not much, but I’ve kept all of the notes that I didn’t turn over to the police—and I got another one last night. Most of them are signed by
your future husband
.” Sage folded her arms over her chest and kept her distance from him in the small room. “So how did my dad find out, anyway? I didn’t tell him.”

“The police report, though how he knew there was one, I couldn’t tell you.”

She checked her watch, something he noticed she did often, though he’d been following her for several days and she didn’t seem to run late. “Only ten minutes until my next appointment, and I have the feeling you’ve got more questions than there’s time to answer right now.”

Joel smiled. “I’d say that was a safe bet. How about if I meet you after you get off work? We’ll eat and you can fill me in.”

Sage smiled back, making something turn over in his chest. “I know just the place.”

 Sage watched the dismay on Joel’s face as he got a look at the offerings at her favorite restaurant—a vegetarian deli a couple of blocks from the spa where she worked. Though she didn’t adhere strictly to her vegan upraising, she preferred a whole-foods approach to eating and rarely ate meat. Joel apparently had a different idea of what constituted a real meal.

She ordered a garden salad, he chose an egg salad sandwich—the only thing in the deli that qualified as meat in any form—and they found a table in the corner. She noticed he studied the room before sitting down, and took a seat with his back to the wall so he looked out over everything. His eyes tracked around the space and flicked back to the door every time it opened. She relaxed, knowing he was watching out for her. “You’re a former SEAL? How long did you do that?” she asked.

“I was in the Navy for twelve years, a SEAL for ten.” He lifted the edge of his rye bread and looked at the egg filling, and though his expression was doubtful, he lifted the sandwich for a bite.

“That’s quite a while. Why’d you get out?” Sage speared a tomato and popped it into her mouth, studying his face. She felt better about Joel, knowing her father had sent him—her dad was no fool and would have checked his background extensively—but there was still something dark and dangerous about him.

“I got injured on a mission, messed up my ACL. I’ve been through surgery, and am doing great, but I’ll never be at a hundred percent again.” His face was calm, expressionless, but his dark brown eyes revealed his regret.

“You miss it.” She didn’t know much about SEALs except that they were the Navy elite with advanced combat skills. She wondered if his experiences were what made him dangerous, or if the inner predator had already existed and the training merely enhanced it.

“Yeah, I miss it.” There was a flicker of loss in his eyes, though his face didn’t show it.

“I could never fight in a war. Violence makes my stomach turn. I’ve never even held a gun.” She didn’t know how she ended up in a situation where she needed a bodyguard.

“Good thing we’re allowed to have different jobs, then, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his water and turned the conversation back to her. “Tell me about this stalker.”

She washed down her salad with a drink of her tea and plunged ahead. “It started in late January. At first it was just emails, then I started getting letters to my home, and deliveries of gifts to home and work. They’re coming more regularly now. He seems to think we have a relationship already, but I have no idea who it is. I was a little wigged but didn’t really freak out until he started talking about things I’d done, places I’d been—things he couldn’t have known unless he was watching me.” The thought of some stranger obsessing about her made her shiver with revulsion. “That’s why I went to the police.”

“And why your dad hired me.” When Joel’s eyes switched from cool to frigid, she was glad he was on her side.

Three months earlier, Late May

Sage’s eyes felt swollen and she sniffed, reaching for her handkerchief again. She still couldn’t believe her father was dead.

“Are you going to be okay? Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Joel gave her hand a quick squeeze as they stood on the sidewalk outside the office of George DiCarlo’s attorney.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks for offering.” In her head, though, Sage kept wondering if George’s other two daughters would be in the same meeting for the reading of the will, and if they were, how would they react? As far as she knew, they were unaware of her existence and having their biological connection revealed face to face, the day after his funeral, didn’t sound like fun. For at least the thousandth time, she wished she had been able to command her precognition to tell her things to tell her things about herself, when she wanted it to, instead of getting spotty information about others.

“You’re not moving. Are you sure you can handle this?” Joel’s face stayed stony, but his eyes softened slightly with compassion.

Sage sucked in a breath, feeling like a coward. “No. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be here when you finish. Take your time.” He released her hand, then looked at it a little confused, as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding it.

Sage felt bereft when he let go. She put on a smile and nodded to him. “See you later.”

Her stomach was tied in knots and her chest felt tight, almost like a panic attack, but she promised herself she wouldn’t let it take over this time—not that her resolve had ever affected the attacks when they came before.

A receptionist directed her to a wood-paneled conference room where two blonds were already seated in padded chairs. Sage paused in the doorway and looked at them. They were both vaguely familiar, but she was pretty sure they weren’t George’s daughters, Cami and Lana—didn’t they have auburn hair? She’d looked up pictures of them a few years earlier, curious about the women who actually got to use the DiCarlo name. Unlike her.

She pushed back the twinge of bitterness—it wasn’t healthy and blocked her talent. A tall blond man with blue eyes greeted her with a handshake. “Hello. You must be Sage. I’m Alex, please, take a seat. We’re waiting for a few more people still.”