Navy SEAL Security Page 5

  She followed Riley to the elevator as he dragged her bag behind him. He had a small place tucked away in the corner on the third floor of the building.

  He threw open the door for her, and she stepped into the apartment that had the look and feel of a standard motel. Serviceable furniture populated the living room and small dining area. The blank walls stared back at her.

  “Homey place.” She tossed her purse onto one of two matching gray chairs.

  “The agency isn’t known for its decorating skills.”

  “So you’re working for the CIA?” Amy swallowed against her dry throat. Not great news, but she’d rather be on the run with a CIA agent than an FBI agent. Any day.

  “Not exactly.” He dumped Carlos’s keychain in a basket on the kitchen counter. “They’re financing this operation, but they don’t know it.”

  “That’s kind of them. So what are you, an undercover agent?” She liked the sound of that even better. Maybe she had watched too many Bond movies.

  “Me?” That sexy grin spread across his face again, made sexier by the stubble on his chin. “I run a dive boat in Mexico. Cabo San Lucas, to be exact.”

  Tilting her head, Amy put her hands on her hips. “You’re just messing with me now.”

  “God’s honest truth.” He held up his fingers, Boy Scout–style, but Amy doubted his Boy Scout credentials, especially when that dangerous glint lit up his blue eyes.

  Riley yanked up the handle of her suitcase and dragged it toward the back of the apartment. “Take a shower, and I’ll whip up something to eat. It’s almost midnight. You must be as hungry as I am.”

  Amy’s stomach growled to punctuate his comment. Maybe she could blame hunger for making her weak in the knees instead of Riley’s devil-may-care grin. “I’m starving, but then we talk.”

  “Deal.”

  He disappeared through a door, and Amy followed him into a small bedroom. The neatly made bed dominated the room and for one crazy moment, she wanted to pull those covers over her head and sleep for about a week.

  Riley wheeled her bag into a corner and then grabbed a T-shirt from a hanger in the closet. He pointed to another door across the hall. “The bathroom’s in there and the towels are in the cupboard. Leave some hot water for me.”

  He clicked the door behind him and Amy fell across the bed. Safety.

  RILEY DROPPED FOUR pieces of bacon onto the paper towel and blotted the grease from the strips as his belly rumbled. Inhaling the salty aroma of the bacon, he broke off an edge and popped it into his watering mouth.

  He whistled while he whisked the eggs, halting in midrambling tune when he heard the shower finally stop. Amy must’ve thought he was kidding about that hot water.

  But then she needed a warm shower more than he did. She’d held up well under the stress of the situation—no crying, screaming or gnashing of teeth—but the pallor beneath her sun-kissed skin and her wide dark eyes hinted at her fear. Or anger. The woman definitely had an edge—and he liked it.

  Several minutes later, as he crumbled the bacon on top of the bubbling eggs, the bedroom door swung open and Amy tiptoed into the living room.

  “Everything still okay?”

  Riley concentrated on flipping the omelet. “Did you think the Velasquez Drug Cartel was in here cooking eggs and bacon?”

  “You never know.” She huffed out a breath and sauntered to the kitchen counter. “They could’ve surprised you mid-egg and then enjoyed the fruits of your labor over your dead body.”

  He laughed and slid the omelet onto the waiting plate. “You have a twisted way of thinking, Amy Prescott.”

  “How’d you know my last name?” She clutched the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white.

  Guess that warm shower didn’t do much to relax her. His gaze raked her from head to toe, taking in the warm mahogany hair falling over one shoulder and those long legs encased in the same faded denim she’d worn earlier.

  “Relax, beach girl. It didn’t take a trained observer to see the tag on your backpack. I thought you trusted me now. I made omelets.”

  “Omelets are the new olive branch or something?” She sniffed the air. “They smell good. I guess I’ll have to suspend suspicion to eat.”

  “That’s a start. And to make things even, my name’s Riley Hammond.” He snagged two forks from a drawer and slid a plate toward her. “I’m going to hit the shower. I’ve been wearing these board shorts longer than a man should wear anything.”

  Except a long lean woman like Amy.

  Riley compressed his lips as if he’d spoken his thought aloud. Amy, gazing longingly at the plate, hadn’t noticed his shift from protector to wolf.

  “Do you want me to wait until you’re out of the shower?” She pointed the tines of the fork at the omelet.

  “Nah. This ain’t the Ritz. Dig in.”

  He grabbed a clean towel from the closet and crossed the hall to the bathroom.

  As he pulled the door behind him, Amy called out, “Don’t close it.”

  He twisted around, raising his brows.

  Two spots of color brightened her cheeks. “I—I’d just feel better with the door open. I promise I won’t peek.”

  Too bad.

  “You’d better not.” He shook his finger at her. “Because I’m really modest.”

  Amy cackled and stabbed her omelet.

  Riley cranked on the shower and bent forward as he flattened his palms against the tile. The warm water cascaded down his back, and he rolled his shoulders. As he lathered his hair and body, thoughts of Amy poked and prodded him.

  He didn’t need a companion to do his job, especially one as distracting as Amy. Even though Carlos had dragged her into this situation, Riley wanted to keep her well away from it. And well away from him.

  If his wife, April, had steered clear of him, she’d be alive. But Amy was made of stronger stuff than April. Riley lifted his face to the spray of suddenly cold water to punish himself for his disloyal thoughts about April.

  She was dead and had taken their unborn baby with her. Their deaths had compelled him to banish all the resentment he’d felt toward her for tricking him into a marriage he didn’t want. And he had to keep that resentment at bay or fall into a black hole of never-ending guilt.

  “Your cell phone is buzzing.”

  Riley shut off the water and cracked open the shower door. Amy’s hand, clutching his phone, wiggled in the bathroom doorway.

  “Can you bring it over before I miss the call?” He sluiced back his hair.

  Holding the vibrating phone in front of her, she stumbled into the bathroom with eyes squeezed shut. She tripped over the toilet, banging her knee on the lid.

  “Don’t let your embarrassment be the death of you.” He crossed one arm in front of his body and held out his other hand for the phone.

  Amy peeled her eyes open and pinned her gaze to his face as she handed him the phone. Once he had it in hand, she whipped around and scurried out of the bathroom.

  Swallowing hard, he slid the phone open with his wet hand. “Hello?”

  “Hope I didn’t wake you.” The colonel’s gruff voice doused any desire Riley had felt over Amy’s intrusion.

  “I’m in the shower. It’s been a long day.”

  “Hate to make it longer, but I thought you were going to check out that beach.”

  “I’ll be on it tomorrow, Colonel. You know I’m accustomed to Jack’s hands-off leadership.” Riley pulled a towel from the rack and slung it over his shoulder, his eyes darting to the door Amy had left wide open.

  “Yeah, I know. The ends justify the means and all that. Maybe that’s how Jack got into trouble. Did you go back to the beach?”

  Riley’s jaw clenched at the colonel’s criticism of Jack. Colonel Scripps hadn’t been on the front line with them. Although the colonel had served his time, he filled the role of paper pusher now. He didn’t understand that Jack’s leadership fit their missions. They all would’ve been dead a long time ago if it ha
dn’t.

  Riley blew out a breath. “We—I—plan to do that tomorrow.” The colonel didn’t need to know about Amy’s involvement. “I figured the cops would be all over that beach tonight once the lifeguard reported the incident.”

  “Did she bring up your name?”

  “She didn’t have it,” Riley lied smoothly. The colonel also didn’t need to know he’d blabbed his name to Amy. If he bristled at the way Jack conducted himself, he’d pull out the little hair he had left over Riley’s business model. “I’ll get right on it and report back—when I have something to report.”

  As usual Colonel Scripps ended the call. Even though the team didn’t report to the colonel in an official capacity anymore, the man was still in charge.

  Riley ran the towel over his goose-pimpled flesh and hitched it around his waist. He rubbed his fist along the mirror to clear it. Then he plowed his fingers through his long hair, sluicing it back.

  Wiping his hand against the towel snugly covering his backside, he poked his head into the living room. “You okay in here? How was the omelet?”

  Perched on the stool at the counter, Amy tapped her empty plate. “Yummy, but I feel guilty. Come and eat your food before it gets any colder.”

  “Pop it in the microwave for a few seconds. I’m going to get dressed. A guy can only go commando for so long.” He tugged at the towel. “Go commando?”

  “You know. No underwear.” He grinned as Amy blushed. He knew he was playing with fire, but the heat felt so good.

  He strolled into his bedroom and dressed quickly in shorts and a T-shirt. September in Southern California usually went out on a hot wave of summer heat—and the woman in his kitchen only made it hotter.

  He sat down at the counter, and Amy placed a plate in front of him, steam curling from the yellow concoction. “Let me know if you want me to heat it up some more.”

  He wanted her to heat it up a lot more, but he didn’t have food in mind. He sliced through the corner of his omelet with a fork and devoured it. “Mmm. That’s fine.”

  She balanced on the edge of the stool next to him. “Can we talk now? Who was on the phone?”

  “That was Colonel Frank Scripps. He pulled us all back together to find Jack and has all the right connections for this assignment.”

  She nodded encouragingly. “And what is this assignment?”

  “I’m looking for my buddy, Jack Coburn.” Riley sawed off another piece of egg.

  “He’s involved with this drug cartel or some thing?”

  Riley slammed his fist on the counter. “No.”

  Amy’s brows shot up. “Sorry. Touchy subject, huh?”

  “I’d better start at the beginning.” He ran his hands across his face. Where had it all begun? “I was a Navy SEAL serving in the Middle East. Colonel Scripps and a few other officers assembled a couple of special ops divisions to gather intelligence and generally work under the radar of military protocol.”

  “So you were a kind of spy?” The gold lights in Amy’s dark eyes sparkled.

  This woman liked living on the edge. “Don’t look so excited. Our lives didn’t exactly mimic a Robert Ludlum novel. This team of officers recruited me, Ian Dempsey from the U.S. Army Mountain Division, Buzz Richardson from the Air Force Special Ops Command, and the leader of Prospero, Jack Coburn, from the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

  “Prospero? Were you sorcerers like the character in Shakespeare’s play?”

  “Yeah, we pulled off a lot of magic.” Riley shoved his plate away and planted his elbows on the counter. “Jack came up with the name. Usually he’d take a break from reading only long enough to round up terrorists.”

  A smile flitted across Amy’s face. “He sounds…interesting. So you all retired from Prospero, except Jack, and now he’s missing?”

  “Even Jack retired from the military and Prospero, but instead of taking his hard-earned cash like the rest of us and kicking back, he took a job as a hostage negotiator. He disappeared while on a job in Afghanistan.”

  Amy shivered and clutched her arms. “That’s a dangerous place. What does he have to do with the Velasquez Drug Cartel?”

  “We don’t know yet.” Riley hunched his shoulders. “The Velasquez bunch was supposed to be getting a shipment of heroin from some terrorist organization with ties to Afghanistan. Jack’s name came up in some chatter the CIA picked up. It’s our first clue.”

  “A terrorist organization in Afghanistan? I can’t believe Carlos Castillo was involved in all this.” Shaking her head, she scooped up Riley’s empty plate and stalked toward the sink.

  Riley grabbed a glass of water and downed half of it. “I’m glad you brought up Carlos. It’s my turn now. You met him on the beach and you two started dating?”

  “That’s pretty much it. You know as much as I do now.” She cranked on the faucet and scrubbed the plate so hard Riley figured he might need a new plate before she finished.

  He ran his knuckles across his stubble. “Carlos obviously targeted you for access to that beach, but why? Did he ever approach you about bringing a boat up on shore? Maybe he thought he could sweet talk you into looking the other way while his buddies picked up their shipment.”

  “That would take a ton of sugar, unless…” The plate cracked against the side of the sink. She held up the two pieces. “Sorry.”

  Riley hopped off the stool. “That’s okay. Just be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

  He took the plate from her and dropped the pieces into the trash. “What were you going to say about Carlos?”

  She slid the shiny forks into the dish drainer and turned, leaning her hips against the sink. “I forgot. Carlos probably just wanted info from me. He did ask a lot of questions about my job. He knew the beach would be deserted this time of year. He knew what time I got off work, and he probably knew it was my last shift today.”

  “But that still doesn’t tell us what he was doing at your house.” Riley crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Maybe he wanted to warn me or make sure I was okay.” She must have noticed the scowl twisting his face. “He wasn’t a bad person, Riley.”

  “He was a drug dealer, Amy.”

  She reached over and toyed with the keys in the basket, making them jingle like wind chimes. “I know that. Sometimes criminals…people…do bad things, but they’re still people. They have their good sides.”

  Riley cocked his head. He hadn’t figured Amy for the bleeding-heart type, but she must’ve liked Carlos since she’d dated him.

  Did she sleep with him, too? He dug his fingers into his biceps until it hurt. He didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

  “We need to check out the beach tomorrow. I want to get a good look at it during daylight. Will there be anyone there?”

  “It’s a weekday. No lifeguards on that beach anymore, and I think it’s supposed to be overcast again.” She cupped a set of keys in her palm. “Are these Carlos’s keys?”

  “Yeah. We should remove your house key from the ring since I’m going to be leaving his car somewhere along with his keys.”

  Amy fiddled with the key chain, a crease forming between her brows. Then she gasped.

  Riley’s heart jumped. “What is it?”

  Amy pinched a small gold key between her fingers, holding it aloft while the rest of the keys dangled below it. “I know what Carlos wanted on that beach.”

  Chapter Five

  Riley lifted one brow and his gaze shifted from the key clutched between Amy’s fingers to her eyes, bright and round above flushed cheeks. “You do?”

  “Yep.” She jangled the keys that caught the recessed lighting and reflected in her eyes, giving them an added sparkle. “This is a distinctive key and it belongs to the storage unit on my beach.”

  “Storage unit?”

  “We have a storage unit on that beach for buoys, extra equipment and supplies for the junior lifeguard program, which ended in the middle of the summer.” She tossed the key chain to Riley, and
he caught it with one hand.

  He plucked out the gold key, with its squared-off end and dip in the middle. He hadn’t wanted to involve Amy in any of this, but she’d jumped in with both feet and seemed to thrive on the thrill. Who was he to deny her?

  “Would anyone else be in and out of this storage bin?”

  “It’s pretty much reserved for the junior lifeguards. When the program ends, nobody uses the storage until the following summer.”

  “A perfect drop location.” Riley traced the edges of the unusual key with the tip of his finger. “Carlos got close to you to get access to the storage unit. He probably arranged for his contacts to leave the drugs in the storage unit, and the Velasquez Cartel was on its way to pick them up or scope out the location when we interrupted them.”

  Amy folded her arms on the counter and hunched over. “We interrupted them? I was in the lifeguard tower doing my job.”

  Riley grimaced. Just showed how much she’d become a part of the equation in his mind. “The diver was the scout to give the all clear for the boat to come up on the beach.”

  “Do you think they picked up the drugs?” She jerked upright and slapped the counter with her palms. “Maybe Carlos never left the drugs. Maybe that’s why they killed him.”

  “I like the way you think, Amy. You ever consider a career in law enforcement?”

  His teasing comment elicited bright red cheeks and a nervous laugh from her. “They wouldn’t have me.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to suggest you stay here tomorrow while I search the beach?”

  She shook her head and her ponytail whipped from side-to-side. “No. That’s my beach. Besides—” she glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen window “—I don’t want to be by myself.”

  Riley didn’t want to leave her by herself either. “That’s what I figured. Let’s get some sleep. You can have the bedroom. I’ll bunk out here on the couch.”

  “Are you sure?” Amy wrinkled her nose as she peered around his shoulder at the small couch. “I think I’d fit more comfortably on the couch than you.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve slept on worse.”

  Riley dragged a blanket from the hall closet and tossed it onto his new bed while Amy slipped into the bedroom and shut the door. He brushed his teeth, and she stepped into the hallway clutching a pillow to her chest.