Navy SEAL Captive (6 page)

“As a matter of fact, son, I do. Can you make it to DC by morning?”

“No,” he said, his tone flat, emotionless. Just like his father's usual demeanor toward him.

“Then I'll come to you,” his father said, his voice not nearly as confident and forceful as usual. “There are some things you need to know.”

Sawyer ground his teeth together. “Could you start with why I'm being targeted by an assassin?”

* * *

A
FTER
SHE
'
D
CHANGED
, Jenna left the bridal suite and descended to the restaurant level. She'd sat alone and picked at a beautifully prepared salad, wasting most of it before she wandered over to the bar, where a reggae band played upbeat music that didn't manage to lift the blue funk settling over Jenna.

In the bar she spotted the man who had been wearing the blue polo shirt earlier that day. Now dressed in a nice pair of black trousers and a white button-up shirt, he sat staring into his glass of beer. When he looked up, his gaze found hers and narrowed.

Although her pulse accelerated, she told herself any good assassin wouldn't so openly glare at her. Still, she questioned her decision to get out and enjoy herself. But now that she was there, she could hardly scurry back to her room. Anyone watching her would know she was nervous. So Jenna found a corner table and sat with her back to the wall. Color her paranoid, but she was damned if someone snuck up on her, especially the guy staring at her full-on.

When he didn't look away, Jenna's ire hitched up. She lifted her chin and glared back at the rude man, giving him every bit of attitude he seemed to be giving her.

Just when she'd had enough staring at the man, he stood and walked across the floor toward her.

Holy hell. Jenna wasn't prepared to die. If he had a gun with a silencer, he could shoot her there in the bar while the band's music drowned out the light thump. She'd seen the movies. Knew just what it sounded like. Heck, he could probably shoot her without pausing and no one would think twice about her slumping over the table—just another drunk tourist.

She ducked her head and pretended she didn't see him approach. From the corner of her eye, she noted every detail of what he was wearing. She searched his hands for a gun and checked for telltale lumps beneath his suit jacket. Was he wearing a shoulder holster with a handgun tucked neatly inside?

Then he was standing right next to her, forcing her to glance upward. “Would you like to dance?”

What she thought he would say and what he did were so divergent, Jenna could only stare and nod, unable to form a coherent thought.

He held out his hand.

As if on autopilot, she placed hers in his and let him draw her to her feet.

“My apologies if I stared at you today,” he said as he drew her into his arms and moved to the music. “You remind me of someone.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jenna finally found her voice, marveling at how normal she sounded. “Who would that be?”

He didn't answer immediately, swaying to the lilting melody. Then he slowed and stared down into her face, coming slowly to a stop. “My wife.”

Jenna stepped backward. “Your wife? Shouldn't you be dancing with her?”

He gave her half a smile. “I would, if she was here. We planned this vacation a year ago.” He started to move again, his gaze drifting over Jenna's shoulder as if he didn't see her there at all. “She would have loved it here,” he whispered.

Jenna sensed a deep sadness in the man and she asked, “Why didn't she come?”

“She died of breast cancer two months ago.”

Her tension bled away in the face of his obvious sorrow, and she scratched him off her list of possible assassins. “I'm so sorry for your loss. My mother died of breast cancer when I was twelve.”

“That's tough on a kid. My wife suffered a lot at the end, and it was a relief for her to let go.”

“But it wasn't a relief to you,” Jenna finished for him.

He gave her a crooked smile and held open his arms. “I promised you a dance, not a pity party. Let's show these people how to dance to reggae.”

In an attempt to cheer the man, Jenna threw herself into mastering the reggae beat. By the time the song ended, she and her dance partner were laughing.

Jenna stuck out her hand. “I'm Jenna Broyles.”

“Stan Keeting.”

“What was your wife's name?”

“Angela.”

“We can dedicate that last dance to Angela.”

He smiled. “She would have liked that.”

“Thank you for the dance, Stan.”

“No.” He held her hand a little longer. “Thank you. You made me realize Angela would want me to get on with my life and live it to the fullest.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” She pulled her hand away and retreated to her table and the watery drink she'd left.

Her gaze snagged on dark-haired Becca, who strode across the barroom floor wearing a silvery dress that hugged every inch of her body and came down to midthigh.

When she spotted Jenna, she crossed to where she sat. “I'm surprised your new husband let you come to the bar alone.” She nodded to the empty chair. “Or are you saving this seat for him?”

Jenna's pulse kicked up a notch as she concocted a lie about why she was there without Sawyer. “He was taking a nap. I left a note for him to join me when he woke.” She glanced toward the entrance. “I expected to see him by now. I guess he was more exhausted than even he knew.” Settling back in her chair, she smiled. “No worries. I'll just finish my drink and join him.”

Becca sighed. “You two must be so in love.”

Heat rose in Jenna's neck and suffused her cheeks. “It's wonderful.” Or at least she thought it would be.

Now that she had some time and distance between her and her ex-fiancé, she realized she'd never really been in love with Tyler. While all of her friends were getting married and having children, she'd fallen in love with the idea of marriage and rushed Tyler into making a commitment neither of them had really been ready for. In effect, he'd done her a favor by jilting her. He'd saved her the heartache and expense of a divorce later.

“I take it he's not the jealous type.”

Jenna really didn't know Sawyer well enough to guess. “Why do you ask?”

Becca tipped her head toward Stan, who sat at the bar with a beer in his hand, not drinking, just staring into space. “You two danced well together. I can't say that I've ever danced to reggae.”

Jenna smiled. “Stan's a nice man. Maybe he could show you some moves.” Her smile slipped. “He lost his wife recently.” She glanced down at her drink, suddenly depressed about being alone. She lifted her glass to her lips and sipped. The drink was so watery it no longer had the same appeal as when it was first served.

Jenna had no desire to drink it or to stay in a bar full of strangers. What she really wanted was to see Sawyer again. She pushed away from the table and rose. “It was nice chatting with you, but I think I'll go check on my groom.”

Becca nodded and stood, too. “Sleep well.”

“You, too.” Jenna left the bar, crossed the lobby and punched the button for the elevator. As she waited, she had the distinct feeling someone was watching her. She turned around and stared at the people milling about the lobby. Each one of them was involved in another conversation, with the reception desk, with a companion or on a cell phone. No one was looking her way.

The bell rang, announcing the arrival of the elevator, and the doors slid open.

Jenna stepped in and turned around to press the button for the penthouse floor. When she glanced up, she saw a man in a New Orleans Saints football jersey, a baseball cap and sunglasses enter the lobby and head toward the elevator. Her heart skipped several beats, and a storm of butterflies fluttered inside her belly.

Sawyer.

When he spotted her, he sped up.

About that time, the doors started to slide together.

Jenna scrambled to find the door-open button, and she jammed her finger on it, holding it until Sawyer entered the car. Then she let go and the doors closed.

“I thought you weren't coming around,” she said, her voice breathy and unlike her normal confident tone. What was wrong with her? He was just a man. A man with broad shoulders and deep, dark brown eyes she could fall into every time.

He opened his arms. “Even if I didn't have a real reason to come back, I couldn't have stayed away.”

Jenna took a step toward him, afraid she'd misread his intention until she was close enough that he gripped her arms and pulled her against him.

“For someone I've only known for today,” he said, “I can't seem to get you off my mind.”

“Ditto,” she mumbled against the New Orleans Saints jersey she'd loaned him. It no longer smelled of her detergent and fabric softener. The shirt held his scent, a hint of rugged, heady, masculine musk and the salty sea air. She inhaled, committing that unique smell to memory.

The elevator car rose to the top floor without another word being spoken. When the bell rang and the door slid open, Sawyer checked the corridor before letting her step out.

When they arrived at the door to the bridal suite, he held out his hand for her key card, scanned the card and shoved the door open.

Once through, he closed the door behind them and pulled her into his arms, his mouth crashing down on hers, his tongue sweeping in to claim hers.

This was where Jenna had wanted to be all evening. Not eating alone, dancing with a widower or talking to another woman she didn't know or care to know. She'd wanted to be in Sawyer's arms, her heart beating close to his, his mouth melded with hers.

Yes, he was the target of an assassin, and she could be putting herself in the line of fire, but she didn't care as long as Sawyer held her close like this and made love to her all night long. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get to know him better and find whoever was tasked with eliminating her SEAL.

Chapter Six

Sawyer's conversation with his father hadn't yielded enough information to determine who might be after him. The senator insisted he needed to meet with him in person. In the meantime, Sawyer still had an unidentified assassin after him.

All the way back to the resort, Sawyer told himself he would get the fingerprints he needed and leave. Staying with Jenna wasn't an option. Being so near put her at risk. He couldn't let her get hurt because of him.

However, the moment he'd stepped into the lobby of the hotel and saw that flash of auburn hair in the elevator, his heart raced, and he couldn't wait to get her alone. Now that he had her in her suite, he didn't want to leave.

He kissed her, tasting her, feeling her body beneath his fingertips, wanting to get closer, but afraid he'd frighten her by moving too fast.

And there was the matter of being the target of an assassin. He couldn't push that completely out of his mind. After slaking his initial thirst for her, he lifted his head and stared down into her bright green eyes. “You're beautiful, and for some reason, I can't get enough of you.”

She chuckled softly, the sound gravelly and sexy as hell. “Funny. I feel the same. And I've never felt that way about anyone before. Especially a virtual stranger.”

He cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, each of her cheekbones and the tip of her nose. “Why is it I don't feel like we're strangers? It's as though I've always known you.”

“But you don't know me.”

“You're brave and sexy.”

“What's my favorite color?” she asked, her eyes closing as he pressed kisses to her eyelids.

“Not important.” He brushed her lips with his and skimmed the line of her jaw. “You're gutsy and exciting.”

“What do I do for a living?”

“Not important,” he repeated. “You have the cutest dimples when you smile, and your eyes twinkle, making them shine so brightly.”

She grinned up at him. “Where do I live?”

“In my mind, in my thoughts. In my arms.” He tightened his hold, bringing her hips flush up against his. The hard ridge beneath his shorts pressed into her belly. He wanted more. “Your favorite football team is the Saints and you can kiss like nobody's business. What more do I need to know?”

She laughed and rose on her toes to press her lips to his. “You're right. What more do you need to know?” Jenna took his hand and backed toward the bedroom. “Now that you're here, maybe you could stay awhile.”

He started to follow her but stopped, his shoulders sagging. “I can't. I came to get your fingerprints. My guy needs to match yours and mine to rule them out before he can run the others on the case through the fingerprint databases.”

Jenna nodded, her expression tightening. “Okay. Let's do this.” She glanced around the room. “What did you have in mind? I'm fresh out of an ink pad.”

“I'll use my cell phone.”

Her brows dipped. “Cell phone?”

“Sure. The camera on the phone is sufficient to take a good image of all of your fingers. And it'll take a digital image, which will save my guy time in the transfer.” He pulled the waterproof bag out of his back pocket, reminding himself he needed to get fresh clothes soon.

He walked her over to a wall and had her hold each hand up, palm facing the camera, while he took several shots. When he was satisfied the images were sufficiently detailed, he sent the photos to Duff, who would see they made it to Lance.

“That was easier than smudging in ink. And no messy cleanup.”

He nodded, staring at her for a long moment, thinking how hard it was going to be leaving her again. “I guess I should go. I only came back to get the prints.”

She gave him a small, tight smile. One he hated seeing because again, he sensed her disappointment.

“Where will you go? You can't go back to your bungalow and you can't stay with your friends. That would be the first place the gunman would look.”

“I can't stay here,” he said.

“Why not?” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “The way I see it, you don't have much of a choice. I have my case, which means the shooter won't know I got his. You're safer here than you are wandering the streets of Cancún in the dark.”

He frowned. Maybe he could stay. But did she mean for him to take the couch or join her in the bed? His body tightened, but then he shook his head. “I need fresh clothes.”

She shrugged. “I probably have another shirt big enough for you. I brought one to wear over my swimsuit.”

“I still need pants.”

Jenna smiled. “Can't help you there.”

Sawyer shook his head. “I don't want to put you in danger.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, the shooter wouldn't know to look here and it's your choice.” He closed the distance between them and cupped the back of her head. “You're making it really hard for me to walk away,” he said, his voice roughening.

Jenna slid her hands up his chest and locked them behind his neck. “Then don't.”

“I'm not good boyfriend material.”

She shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips. “I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I had one. He ran out on me the day of our wedding. Why would I want to do that again?”

He grabbed her hand and removed her finger from his lips. “You're a nice woman. I'd be using you.”

Again, she lifted on her toes, this time silencing him with a kiss. “Have you considered I might be using you?”

“Then we'd be even.” He kissed her back and pulled her hips against his. “No regrets in the morning?”

“None.” A small smile played on her lips. “So, are you staying?”

“For a while.”

She shrugged. “Good enough.”

“But I want to rinse the sea salt off my skin.”

“Help yourself.” She waved her hand toward the bathroom and walked away. “We have champagne.”

“I'd rather have beer, but champagne will do.”

“It'll be waiting when you're through in the shower.” She walked toward the living area, pulled the loose cork out of the bottle and poured sparkling liquid into a champagne flute.

Sawyer strode to the bathroom, hoping Jenna would join him in the shower. She'd invited him to stay in her room, not to make love to her, but if she came into the shower, she'd remove all doubt.

Shucking his swim shorts and the New Orleans Saints shirt, he stepped into a huge shower. What a shame he was the only one inside. Squirting a line of shampoo from the courtesy bottle, he lathered his hair and body, standing in the pulsing spray from the showerhead, getting harder the more he thought about the woman in the room on the other side of the door.

With his life in danger, and hers by default, he had no business thinking of anything but the problem at hand. Instead, his mind went to Jenna's body pressed against his and her lips, velvety soft, yet firm and passionate.

Ducking his head beneath the spray, he reached for the handle to turn the temperature down. Before he could do that, a pair of hands slid around his waist, and soft breasts pressed into his back.

Sawyer groaned.

Jenna's hands stilled. “Was that a good groan or a ‘get the heck out of my shower' groan?”

He turned in her arms, the evidence of his desire obvious and prodding her belly. “I was just thinking about you.”

Her eyes widened and she lifted her face to accept his kiss.

Sawyer threaded his hands in her hair and tugged, tipping her head so that he could trail kisses down the side of her neck and lower to the swells of her breasts. He scooped her up by the backs of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Jenna rested her hands on his shoulders. “You have protection?”

He moaned. “Yes.” Setting her back on her feet, he dived out of the shower and grabbed for the waterproof container, yanking it open so fast, his cell phone and wallet flew across the counter.

A giggle behind him only made his fingers move faster. Finally he found what he was looking for in a dark foil packet. Back inside the shower, he ripped open the packet and removed its contents.

She took it from him and slowly rolled it down over his shaft, her fingers circling him, her touch gentle, as she made her way down his length to the base.

Past control, he lifted her, pressing her back against the cool tile wall.

She wrapped her legs around his waist again and lowered herself over him as he thrust upward, gliding into her warm, wet channel, filling her all the way.

Jenna drew in a long, deep breath and held it as he froze, giving her body time to adjust to his length and girth. When she pressed down on his shoulders and eased up, he pulled out to the very tip and thrust back inside.

With Jenna leveraging herself on his shoulders and Sawyer pumping in and out, they settled into a smooth, fast rhythm, the pace increasing until a firestorm of electricity ripped through Sawyer.

Jenna tensed and called out his name. “Sawyer!”

One final thrust and Sawyer spent himself inside her, buried deep, wrapped in her tightness.

When at last he could think again, he lowered her to her feet, grabbed the bar of soap and lathered her entire body, memorizing every curve and dimple, every edge and angle until he had her covered in suds. Then he swung her beneath the spray and rinsed her off.

“My turn.” Jenna returned the favor, her fingers skimming over the muscles of his back and shoulders, down his chest and around to the curve of his bottom. When she came back around to his front, he was amazed at how quickly he'd recovered from their first round. “Let's take it into the bedroom.”

“Better yet, let's take it into the hot tub.” She helped rinse him off, running her hands all over his body, bumping him with a breast, tempting him with the brush of her hips. Finally she reached around him and shut off the water. “Ready?”

“More than you can imagine.”

She glanced down and winked. “It doesn't take much of an imagination to see that.” Then she was out of the shower and streaking naked across the suite to the hot tub in a secluded alcove on the deck outside.

When he slipped into the water beside her, he commented, “Your ex-fiancé was a complete idiot. But remind me to thank him.”

“Thank him?” She moved to straddle his lap. “Why?”

“For leaving you at the altar so that I'd find you alone in Cancún. His loss was my gain.” He captured her face in his hands and kissed her long and hard while he slid inside her, taking her for the second time that night.

After soaking in the hot tub for twenty minutes, they dried each other off and fell into the king-size bed, exhausted and satiated.

Jenna fell asleep curled beside him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, her hand lying on his chest.

Hell, he could get used to this. Way too easily. He lay for a long time holding her naked form against his body, for the first time in his life wishing he could be with a woman for more than a night. For a lot more than just a night.

After the upbringing he'd had with absentee parents who rarely spent time in each other's company, Sawyer had never considered himself good boyfriend or husband material. He hadn't had the best examples set for him. How was he supposed to be the man a woman needed? And Jenna had said she wasn't in the market for a replacement fiancé. Burned once, she was less likely to fall into that trap again.

Still, Sawyer didn't want to let go of her.

He had drifted into a light sleep when his cell phone buzzed on the nightstand beside him. Careful not to wake Jenna, he checked the text message.

Come to the Bungalow. You need to see this video.

The message was from Duff, who was probably standing over Lance's shoulder in the bungalow near Sawyer's. And then came a second text.

Will position Montana for cover.

Sawyer replied,
Roger.

Easing out of the bed, he dressed in his shorts and the New Orleans Saints jersey. He bent to press a kiss to Jenna's lips, his body tightening at that touch.

He hated leaving her. If they found something on the security video that could point them in the direction of his would-be assassin, he had to go. The sooner he put an end to the attempt to abduct or kill him, the sooner he could get on with his life.

Pulling the ball cap down low on his forehead, he pocketed the sunglasses but chose not to wear them unless he had to. In the dark, they would limit visibility. He took the back way out of the resort and jogged along the beach to his hotel complex, keeping a watch on all sides. He didn't want someone surprising him by running up behind him. Once he neared the path leading between a stand of palm trees and the bungalows he and his teammates had rented for their vacation, he slowed.

Something in the shadows moved.

Sawyer dived for the sandy soil, rolled and leaped to his feet, ready to rumble.

A low chuckle made him tense.

“You're getting slow, Sawyer.” Montana stepped away from the trunk of a palm. “I did a recon of the path. All clear. You can proceed.”

Sawyer brushed the sand off his body, shaking his head. “I'm supposed to be on vacation, not an operation.”

“You do what you have to do to stay alive, on vacation or not. We kind of like you on the team.” Montana clapped a hand on his shoulder and nodded toward the bungalow. “Go. Lance has something he wants you to see.”

Sawyer didn't argue. Trusting his teammate to have his six, he went straight to Lance's bungalow and knocked. Within seconds, Duff yanked open the door. “About time. I thought you were coming straight back after you got Jenna's fingerprints.”

“I was distracted.”

Duff snorted. “Women can be pretty distracting. I tell you, I'd rather be with Natalie than a bunch of guys staring at a video monitor. Let's get this done so we can actually have a shot at a real vacation.”