The Protective SEAL Read online

  He nodded. “I get that. It was just my mom and me growing up. With her working to support us, I spent most nights going to work with her and eating there while I did my homework. I still cook when I’m home—but I’m away a lot, so I’ve gotten used to taking whatever comes my way.”

  “Hmm,” she said with a smile of agreement. “So where’s home?”

  “Small town in Nebraska called Rally.” He washed down another bite of food with a swallow of soda, then grinned. “Great place. No one locks their doors because crime is so low. Everyone knows everyone else and everyone’s friendly. Very safe. When I’m on leave, it’s nice to just kick back and let my guard down, you know?”

  “Wow. That sounds amazing.” Her wistful tone tugged at his heart. “Way different from the southside of Chicago, that’s for sure.”

  For the next half hour or so, they discussed her hometown and his, discovering that they actually did have more in common than Jack had first thought. He loved baseball and the Cubs were his favorite team. Hers too. She told him about the games she’d been to as a kid. He told her about playing on his little league team back in Nebraska. Turns out she’d played too. She talked about her research on marine animals and he told her about the tropical fish he’d raised when he was ten. By the time they were down to their last slices of pizza, he’d almost forgotten that this was a mission, because it suddenly felt a whole lot more like a date. If her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes were any indication, she was feeling the warm, simmering attraction growing between them too.

  After they finished eating, Sam helped him clean up. The space was tight, and they kept bumping into each other, the word “sorry” filling the air like oxygen—but despite the apologies, neither one was trying very hard to avoid contact. If anything, they both seemed to be seeking excuses to touch in small ways. Once they were done and everything was put away, they walked out into the living room. The low murmur of crickets and cicadas from the rainforest filtered in from outside.

  “Uh, thanks again for dinner. And for rescuing me.” She bounced on the balls of her bare feet for a moment before rising up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Sam lingered there, her warm breath fanning his face, her dark eyes luminous as she stared at him. Her lips were parted and looked so soft, and before he knew what he was doing, Jack closed the tiny space between them. She tasted of salt from the food and sweet desire. Sam moaned low and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

  Summoning his last vestiges of common sense, Jack pulled back before he couldn’t anymore.

  Sam lowered down to flat feet, her expression so lost and sad he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and never let her go. Which was ridiculous. They were virtually strangers. This was a mission. A job. She had her life and he had his. After tonight they’d get back to them, no looking back, no questions asked.

  And how is that different from every other one-night stand you’ve had?

  Yeah, those thoughts weren’t helpful at all. Not when his pulse was thudding loud in his ears and each time he licked his lips he tasted her there.

  “Please,” she said at last, her voice so quiet he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been so attuned to her at that moment. “Please stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”

  Maybe if she’d been more brazen, maybe if he’d been stronger, Jack could’ve said no.

  As it was, every fiber of his being yearned to be with her, just this one time, just this one night.

  Exhaling slow, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Let me do a final perimeter check first.”

  Her tense posture relaxed slightly and she looked up at him, her smile radiant. “Okay.”

  While she headed for the bedroom, he headed outside.

  When he returned, Jack saw the bedroom door open a crack, the light streaming out calling to him like a beacon. After a quick shower himself, he grabbed his Bluetooth headset in case his team tried to reach him, then he turned out the lights and padded into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

  Tomorrow, she’d enter witness protection. He’d never forget her, but he’d never hear from her again.

  Tonight, though, she was his.

  Two

  Present day…

  Sam slumped in the backseat of the government-issued sedan as they headed down the interstate. The barren land and darkness outside matched the exhaustion inside her. She was being moved again, to another new town, another new life. Her father’s henchmen were relentless, especially now that she had little Glory.

  She reached over to fuss with the fuzzy pink blanket wrapped around her six-month-old daughter, who was strapped in beside Sam in her car seat. One of the US marshals in the front seat caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Late forties, dark hair, dark eyes, same drab suit as the rest of the feds she’d encountered over the last year in the program. Meade, he’d said his name was. Most of them were interchangeable, but this dude made her nervous, probably because of the way he kept staring at her. It was weird. And unsettling. Then again, she ought to be used to people staring at her and judging her by now. Guilt by association. Sins of the father must be passed down to the children, right?

  Maybe in the case of her older brothers, but not her.

  Sam abhorred violence of any kind. That’s why she’d given up the life she knew in order to testify against her family.

  And that’s why they were hunting her down.

  “Bet you can’t wait until this is all over, huh?” the other agent said to her from behind the wheel. He was younger, maybe thirty-five, with darkish blond hair and glasses. She hadn’t caught his name when he’d said it and didn’t really care to learn it now. Her father’s second trial for bribery and racketeering was about to get underway back in Chicago, so Witness Protection had thought it wise to move Sam and Glory again. She’d be the star witness, given the volatile information she had on him—information that would tie him to the murder of a United States congressman and could put him behind bars for life. Never mind she and Glory had finally just settled in to their latest home in rural Indiana. The feds didn’t care about that, didn’t care that Sam had no stability in her life now, didn’t care that each time she and her daughter were uprooted it took more effort than ever to pretend to be normal.

  There were days Sam feared nothing would ever be normal again.

  The agent driving turned on his blinker and passed a slower moving vehicle, then switched back to the driving lane again. “Well, don’t worry. Soon you’ll be able to put this all behind you.”

  Sam didn’t respond, just stared out at the shadowy cornfields and occasional lights in the distance as the miles flew by and twilight gathered. They were moving her to Nebraska this time. Smack dab in the middle of nowhere. It was March, and small piles of leftover snow still dotted the empty farm fields here and there. The weather was a bit all over the place too. One day sunny and warm, the next cold and icy. Not that it mattered much. Sam didn’t get outside much these days.

  Honestly, she would’ve been happy to move to Mars if it meant keeping her daughter safe from her father and all his evil deeds. God, the man really was insane. She couldn’t wait until he was sentenced and she could finally, truly move on with her life. Until then, she spent most days checking over her shoulder, making sure she hadn’t been followed. Even with a new identity and trained agents protecting her, she didn’t feel truly safe.

  But it was a hell of a lot better than being on her own.

  So yeah. Witness Protection was the way to go, even if it meant riding around with two strange dudes in the dark in the heartland of America.

  “Hey, there’s a rest stop ahead. Pull over,” Agent Meade said, his gaze still locked on Sam in the mirror. Creep. “I need to take a shit.”

  Charming.

  “Sorry, man. Not a designated stop,” the agent driving said. “Can’t you hold it?”

  “I had two chili dogs back in Des Moines. What do you think?”

  With a curs
e, the first marshal signaled again and swerved off onto an exit ramp. They parked in front of a squat cinder block building surrounded by yellowish street lights.

  “Thanks. Be right back,” Agent Meade said, getting out and slamming the car door behind him. Glory stirred, but thankfully didn’t awaken.

  Sam sat back and watched as the guy walked into the building beneath a sign marked Mens.

  Minutes ticked by with no sign of Agent Meade at all. Either he’d fallen in or something else was wrong. Marshal One kept checking his watch, then glancing around the empty parking lot. A low roar filled the air from the interstate behind them, interspersed with the sound of crickets chirping. A slight breeze rustled through the dead wild grasses near the edge of the lawn. Those chili dogs must’ve really done a number on that guy, Sam thought, rolling her eyes.

  Finally, the other agent’s patience was at an end. He mumbled something Sam didn’t quite catch then unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. He got out, then leaned back in to gaze at her over the back of the seat. “Stay here. Don’t even think about getting out. I’ll be right back.”

  Sam sighed and watched him walk away too. Where the hell did he think she was going to go? There was nothing around here but corn. Another few minutes ticked by. Drowsiness overtook Sam and her eyes started to slide closed. Then…

  Bang!

  She jolted awake, as did Glory. Between trying to comfort her now squalling daughter and attempting to figure out what the hell had caused that sound, Sam was disoriented. Through the windshield, she saw a man stagger backwards out of the small building. With the glow of those yellowish lights it was hard to tell which marshal it was, the polite one or the creepy one.

  Time slowed as Agent Meade appeared, gun in hand to fire once more on his compatriot, this time at point-blank range, putting a bullet right between the other man’s eyes.

  Jesus! Shit, shit, shit!

  Fueled by pure panic and adrenaline, Sam scrambled over the seat and behind the wheel, grateful beyond words that the poor driver had left the keys in the ignition. Seeing as how he was dead, she almost wished she’d learned his name now. That thought quickly fled though as Agent Meade turned to run toward her. Sam peeled out of the parking lot and swerved down the entrance ramp onto the interstate, narrowly avoiding smashing into an oncoming semi in the passing lane. The trucker honked and flipped her off, but she couldn’t care about that now. She needed to get the hell out of there, get away, save her baby and herself. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw the silhouette of Agent Meade in her rearview mirror, haloed by yellow light watching her flee.

  Think, think, think.

  Somehow, her father had groomed a turncoat in the marshal’s office. It shouldn’t surprise her, with all his power and connections, and yet it still did. She wasn’t safe. Not here. Maybe not anywhere.

  Hands shaking, she fumbled around on the front seat looking for a phone or GPS unit. She found neither.

  Of course, the federal government wouldn’t splurge for onboard GPS, and the agents had probably had their cell phones on them. Unfortunately, at this stage in witness protection, Sam’s communication options were strictly limited. She wasn’t allowed a phone of her own. She was barely allowed much of anything, aside from the absolute necessities for herself and Glory…who was still crying at the top of her lungs. Her daughter fed off Sam’s emotions, so she did her best to calm herself, hoping it would eventually calm Glory too. Not easy though, when she kept checking every so many miles to see if they were being followed. Sounded nuts, but hey—so did one US marshal shooting another and that had happened…

  Her gut clenched with tension and she punched the accelerator harder. She needed to get off this main thoroughfare and find a safe place to hide for the night. Figure out what to do from here. A green reflective sign shown in the distance, proclaiming the next exit was for a place called Rally. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but with her mind racing from nerves and fear, she couldn’t place from where she’d heard it before. Welp, Rally sounded as good a stop as any at this point.

  After a final check in her mirrors, Sam signaled, then veered off toward her chosen destination. At least Glory seemed to have cried herself to sleep again. Good. As Sam turned off onto a deserted two-lane country road, she exhaled slowly. This was fine. Everything would be fine. She’d find a quiet motel, rent a room for the night, clear her head, and plan her next moves. Contact Witness Protection and let them know what had happened and that she was safe. Feed Glory and herself. Drink some water because her throat felt parched as the Sahara right now and…

  The sudden burst of bright headlights in her rearview mirror blinded Sam.

  Crap!

  Her pulse tripped, and she sped up again. They’d followed her. Whoever they were. Probably that creepy marshal and whichever of her dad’s associates he was working with. Morbidly, she wondered if one of her brothers was in the team hunting her down. She wouldn’t put it past them. Her dad would be right there on the hunt himself if he wasn’t under house arrest back in Chicago, pending being taken into custody before his trial.

  The roadway curved, heading into a wooded area. Sam eased up on the gas pedal to avoid going off the road and the vehicle pursuing her took advantage of the opening, swerving around her in a squeal of tires and booming country music, then racing past her and down the road.

  Trembling so badly she had to pull over, Sam took several deeps breaths to calm her racing pulse.

  Okay. Not the bad guys. Not yet anyway.

  Glory had slept through it all. Sam used to be the same way, but once she made the decision to testify against her father, she lost the ability to sleep soundly. The only really solid night’s sleep she’d had since then had been in Costa Rica.

  Costa Rica.

  That’s where she knew the name Rally from. The SEAL that had rescued her that night, Jack Williams, had said this was his hometown. Remembering him helped ease her nerves as well. Maybe because he’d been a SEAL. Maybe because he’d talked about how safe his small town was. Maybe because…

  She glanced at her snoozing daughter in the rearview mirror again, then put the car into Drive and pulled out on to the roadway. A bit farther down the lane, another sign showed Rally was just ten miles ahead. Omaha was another seventy miles.

  Good. She could make it to the smaller town at least, then she could decide her next move.

  Except apparently this two-lane highway wasn’t as deserted as she’d thought because as she came around another curve in the woods, a semi appeared out of nowhere, careening dangerously close to the sedan and forcing her off the road.

  Dammit.

  The engine of the car growled as the back wheels spun uselessly off the ground. Perfect. Now she was in a ditch. Could anything else go wrong?

  Never a good question to ask, she knew, because only moments later, the engine died, and the headlights flickered out.

  Wonderful. She supposed they could sit there and wait for help, but then a low keening noise issued from the woods nearby. Yellow eyes darted in the shadows and her stomach knotted. Yeah, she’d probably read one too many Stephen King novels, but no way did she want to sit here all night with her precious baby and wait to become Cujo chow. At least it wasn’t bitterly cold, only moderately nippy.

  Besides, the way the ditch was situated, they’d be better off getting someone’s attention on the road.

  Still, Sam couldn’t help grumbling as she managed to climb into the backseat and get Glory’s car seat carrier out along with her purse. After slinging her crossbody bag into place, then hanging the diaper bag over her shoulder, Sam clambered quickly out of the sedan, then set off in the direction of Rally on foot. The walking would do her good. Keep her circulation going. Prevent frostbite.

  Priority number one—find a safe, warm place to stay for the night.

  Three

  Jack Williams wasn’t typically the kind of man who went to the local feed store at eight o’clock on a Saturday night. Then again
, when the cows were hungry, they were hungry. The fact he’d missed his usually monthly stop there a few weeks prior didn’t help either.

  Oh, well. He glanced at the radio, then fiddled with the knobs, finally tuning in to the country station out of Omaha. While Lonestar crooned from the speakers, he rested his arm out the window of his beat-up red Bronco and inhaled the fresh air of a Nebraska early spring night.

  He’d come home after retiring from the SEALs earlier in the year, thinking he’d finally put his education degree to work and be a teacher. Problem was, the Nebraska Board of Education had recently upped the requirements for a teaching certificate in the state and now required a Masters for any tenured position. So, while he figured out how to take the necessary classes online, Jack was working as a substitute teacher in a local high school and trying to get an organic farm up and running in his spare time.

  Spare time. He snorted. Now there was a concept he’d never considered during his stint in the Navy. Back then, he’d constantly been on the go, traveling from one mission to the next, all over the world. By comparison, life here in Nebraska seemed downright boring.

  But Jack liked boring these days. Well, not boring, necessarily. Slower, easier, gentler.

  Yeah. That’s what he wanted. What he needed.

  And yeah, maybe sometimes late at night, he questioned what the hell he was doing, what the hell his purpose was now that he wasn’t the big, brave hero anymore. But staying with his SEAL team hadn’t been an option after he’d blown his knee out on his last mission. PT and surgery had done a lot, but they hadn’t brought back his full strength and he couldn’t meet the physical requirements of the job anymore. There was still an emptiness inside him whenever he thought about the team and the career he’d left behind, but Jack was a look-on-the-bright-side kind of guy. He’d figure out where to go from here. Eventually.