A SEAL's Fantasy (7 page)

“Sweetheart, you’re safe. That’s what counts here.”

She wet her lips, looking around the destruction that’d once been her apartment. It didn’t look as if she had a lot of possessions, which had probably accounted for the quickness of their search.

“What were they looking for?” she wondered aloud.

“You.”

She bit her lip, eyeing a silk nightie in midnight-blue. He wondered how low on her hips that flimsy little thing fell and how much of her long, sexy legs it showed. He’d bet that was a beautiful sight. Shame it was currently shredded to pieces and anchored to her wall with what appeared to be one of her own steak knives. Her teeth snapped together with a loud click.

“Why?”

“To hurt your brother.” He kicked aside what’d once been her telephone on his way to the window. Before he glanced out, he shot her a look over his shoulder. “Oh, wait, you don’t have a brother.”

She muttered something that sounded like
once a pain in the ass, always a pain in the ass.
But that was the only acknowledgment she gave his comment, instead crossing the room to check to see if the bathroom had been hit as hard.

He didn’t need to hear her growl to know it had. This mess, it was a warning. Valdero’s goons would be thorough.

“The cops are here,” he said needlessly, since the thin windows didn’t block out the sound of approaching sirens. “One of the goons is in the building across the street watching from the window.”

“The police will protect me,” she said, her fingers twining together before she shook them loose as if trying to toss off the nerves. “Won’t they?”

Castillo turned, his careful gaze assessing as they swept the room. Then he looked at her and shrugged.

“Probably. But they don’t know what they’re up against, so whatever protection they offer might not be enough.”

“You can tell them,” she insisted.

“No can do, sweetheart. Missions are confidential. If my superiors want the cops filled in, they’ll do it. But I’ve gotta warn you, they’re out of the country for the next little while. A week, at least.”

“But my apartment is trashed. They’ll have to wonder why. They’ll investigate.”

He had to hand it to her—she didn’t get hysterical or dramatic. Her tone was even, her expression calm. But he could still see the anger and just a hint of fear. Since she was a woman, his instincts said to soothe and protect. But training and experience told him that she’d be safer if that fear stayed front and center. So he went for honesty instead.

“Yep. Chances are the police will suggest you stay with a friend while they do.” He eyed her living room, then tugged on his lower lip. “So, got any friends with disposable furniture?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Okay.” Dominic knew perfectly well the best way to get a woman to do what he wanted was to agree with her. It didn’t put them in a friendlier mood, per se. Mostly it tended to make them suspicious, and they ended up doing things his way out of sheer contrariness.

Was it any wonder he loved them?

“I’d guess you have about three minutes to decide,” he told her, gauging the distance of the sirens and the traffic. “You wanna take your chances with the cops, deal with the results while they figure out what’s going on, that’s fine. You wanna come with me and be safe, grab your stuff. I’m outta here in two minutes.”

Biting her lip, she glanced at the broken glass splintered across her floor, then at the window.

“Would you be taking me to a Navy base?” she asked, apparently forgetting she didn’t know anything about what her nonexistent brother did for a living.

He could. No matter how many connections Valdero’s drugs bought him, he couldn’t finance his goons onto a secured base. But Castillo’s role in this mission was still on the QT until the team notified him otherwise. Lane hadn’t said what they wanted Castillo to do with her. Just that her capture would make their rescue of Banks much, much more difficult.

So...

“Nope. No base. Somewhere closer, safer,” he replied. He glanced at his watch, and added, “You’re down to a minute, fifty seconds.”

He could all but hear her teeth grinding from across the room.

With a final glare, she snagged a duffel from the pile of her things next to the closet, then started grabbing clothes off the floor. The bag half-full, she hurried into the bathroom, where Dominic could hear her dumping toiletries in, too.

As soon as she came out, he grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go.”

“I’ve still got forty-five seconds and I’m not done packing,” she said, yanking her arm free. She tossed the books she’d been carrying earlier into the bag, then ran into the kitchen. Dominic damn near dropped his chin when she pulled the oven door open and yanked out a covered casserole dish.

“Sweetheart, I’ll feed you on the road. You don’t gotta bring food.”

She ripped the lid off, pulled out a slim laptop and a bright orange plastic box, adding them to her bag, then zipping it tight.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t know you could bake yourself a computer,” he mused, grabbing her arm tighter this time and pulling her toward the door.

“This isn’t exactly a secure building,” she said, tilting her head toward the shattered door as they passed it. She looked as if she was going to try to close it, then grimaced when she realized it was pointless. Castillo knew the cops would board it up, order the landlord to replace it. What was left of her stuff was safe enough.

“Stairs,” he ordered.

As they clattered down the dimly lit stairwell, Castillo took stock.

He wasn’t much on urban rescues. Most of his missions took place in the forest, the desert, the mountains. He was unarmed, had had time for only a minimal reconnaissance of Reno and had no backup.

They hit the alley at a run, but he held up a cautioning hand when they approached the street. Carefully, he peered around the corner of the building.

An ambulance was loading up a body bag.

He grimaced.

He’d wondered why the cops were taking so long to get to her apartment. Now he knew.

“What...” Her question faded into horror as she looked around his shoulder. Suddenly shaking, Lara sank into his side in horror. He could feel her breath shaking as she sucked in a harsh lungful.

“They did that?” she whispered.

Castillo’s mental debate only lasted a second. Peace of mind wasn’t going to keep her safe. The truth might, though.

“My guess is, yeah.”

“We need to tell the police who they are, what they look like.” She took a fortifying breath, then started to step around him. Castillo grabbed her back, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he pulled her against his chest.

His eyes locked on hers, he slowly shook his head.

“Not a good idea. We can call in an anonymous tip later. After we’ve put some distance between us and them.”

“But—”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got a hot body and a gorgeous face. Let’s keep them safe, okay?”

The expression on her face was pure stubborn resistance. Then she looked over his shoulder. Her bottom lip drooped in a sexy pout that made Dominic hungry for a taste, then she wrinkled her nose.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

“Take it up with your brother. ’Cause, let me tell ya, I’m not too happy myself.”

Nope, not happy at all. The last thing Dominic had ever imagined was having the hots for the sister of a guy he couldn’t stand. He knew all the rules between guys and girls, the varied nuances of dating a friend or coworker’s sister. But seducing the sister of a guy he hated?

Dominic was clueless what the rules were there.

He looked down into Lara’s big green eyes, then dropped his gaze to her full, seductive mouth.

Yeah. He was sure that whatever the rules were, he wasn’t going to be able to resist breaking them.

4

T
ALK ABOUT A
night going all to hell.

First she was hit on in an alley, then two creeps destroyed her apartment. And now, adding insult to injury, she was stuck in a fancy-ass hotel where the bellboys made more money in a week than she did all month.

Maybe, just maybe, she could deal with all of that. Maybe.

But doing all of that with a guy whose dimples made her wet and whose smile gave her insides shivers? That was a bad, bad thing.

Add the fact that his body was a work of fantasy. Big, hard, sculpted. She’d barely held back her moan of appreciation when he’d tossed off his jacket after they’d gotten to the room. Broad shoulders and biceps the size of bowling balls only made her wonder how big all his other, um, muscles might be. Big, she’d bet.

Lara folded herself into the plush easy chair, arms crossed over her chest as much in irritation as to cover her nipples, which were getting quite perky over wondering about Castillo’s endowments. It was just as well that he was sitting behind a table. The only thing worse than her sudden obsession over his size would be getting caught checking. Once a guy knew you were thinking about his dick, he was all about whipping it out as if it was some kind of conversation piece.

Distraction, she told herself. Think of something else.

She winced when an image of her apartment filled her head. Nope, something else. Since she wasn’t sure what she felt about that, it was better to ignore it for a while.

“If I’m the victim here, why am I the one imprisoned?” she asked with a wave of her hand to indicate the room. She didn’t have to pretend to sound irritated. All she had to do was remember the state of her apartment, the state of her life and the fact that she wasn’t currently putting in any time toward her twelve hours of homework.

“You’ve got a funny idea of what prison life is like,” Castillo said with a laugh as he pushed back from the table. His plate sat empty, the steak and baked potato all but licked clean from it. He eyed her cold food with interest before arching a brow toward her. “Bet they eat their steak in prison.”

“I don’t see why we need to share a room,” she said, ignoring his comment the same way he’d ignored her every time she’d complained about the room arrangements. Not that she could afford a room here, but that was beside the point.

“I can protect you a lot better when I can see you.”

Okay, that was a good reason, she’d grant.

“They aren’t going to find us here, though,” she protested. Again. The man had a talent for ignoring her requests with so much charm, she’d look like a perfect bitch if she threw a fit.

She wasn’t stupid enough to resent protection, even though she was pretty sure he was partially responsible for her even needing it. But there was nothing good that could come from her being locked in a room with this guy. A room with a very big, very inviting bed. A guy this appealing was bad for her vow to stay focused on her goals.

This guy, in a hotel room? It was as if life was waving temptation in her face, challenging her to stay on track.

“I need privacy,” she indicated. “I’m used to being alone. Having you here all the time is going to smother me.”

“You look like you’re breathing okay to me,” he observed, giving her a long, intense once-over that made said breath lodge somewhere in her chest.

“How long?” she asked. Then, before he could dig in to her food, she got up, crossed the room and grabbed her plate. The look on his face was pure disappointment, like a little boy who’d just been told that Santa was fiction and Saturday had been canceled. Lara rolled her eyes, but unable to resist the cuteness, she slid the steak onto his plate.

“Thanks,” he said with a grateful grin.

“I don’t eat red meat.”

He gave her a blank stare, then shook his head as if trying to shake off the incomprehensible words.

“No red meat? What’s left?”

“Fruit, vegetables, white meat, fish, chocolate.”

He shook his head again, then quickly stabbed his fork into the steak, sliding the plate close to him as if she might suddenly realize its appeal.

“How long?” she asked again. Not only because she had things to do, but because the longer she was with him, the harder it’d be on her willpower. It was like a dieter at Christmas. The first plate of cookies was resistible, but after a week, all of Santa’s heads had been chewed off.

Nope, the less time they were together, the better.

For a second she considered suggesting the cops again. But she’d had enough experience with police to know that she was better off with a man who considered keeping her safe his mission.

“I have a life, you know. I can’t live it in a hotel room with you.”

Castillo flicked a quick glance up from the steak, his eyes holding hot promise before he dropped his gaze back to the plate.

Lara took a shaky breath, filling her mouth with a forkful of salad to keep herself from saying something else that might inspire that look again, just to see if it was as sexy as she thought.

“I figure we’re here for a while. Can you handle that?” he asked, his look assessing now instead of horny.

“That depends on how many hours there are in a while.” What was it with men and their stupid nonanswers? Her father had specialized in that. He’d play the conversation along for hours, days. Sometimes even weeks. Until he figured out exactly what her hoped for response was so he could be sure he went in the opposite direction.

“As soon as I get the green light from the team that everything is copacetic with that guy, Phillip, who you claim isn’t your brother. Then we’ll be clear.”

“Copacetic?” Lara’s lips twitched, so she shoveled in more salad to keep them busy. “I have to work, among other things. I can’t wait for the return of the ’70s.”

“You’re gonna have to call in sick for a few days,” he said, eyeing the baked potato still on her plate.

Lara cut off a chunk, scooped it through the sour cream, then popped it into her mouth with a defiant smile, even as she shook her head.

“I don’t call in sick. In the first place, I’m not sick, so that’d be lying. In the second place, I can’t afford to miss work. You wanna play bodyguard, you can do it while I’m on stage.”

“You can miss a few days.”

Said like a typical man. Her eyes flicked to his leather jacket while her mind flashed to the wad of cash he’d shelled out for this room.