Protected by a SEAL (Alpha SEALs, Book 6) (13 page)

And a kiss wouldn’t hurt, unlike the
threatening way he’d squeezed her arm before. It had been hard
enough to leave a bruise, but it wasn’t like he’d hit her or
something. Just grabbed her to get her attention. And she could
leave if she wanted—just push him away and go. He’d let her leave
his office, wouldn’t he? She was the one who was making the
decision to stay.

Frank stopped in front of her, his eyes
filling with arousal, and she couldn’t help trembling. He leered at
her, looking like a predator stalking his prey, and ducked low, his
nose skimming across her cleavage.

“Wh—what are you doing?” she asked, her
voice shaking.

Fat fingers edged under the trim of her
bodice as he looked at her, daring her to stop him. He tugged it
down, revealing one breast.

“You didn’t say where I could kiss you,” he
chastised, greedily kissing her breast. She shook in fear, and his
hands dug into her hips, holding her against the wall. He licked
her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, slobbering all over
her.

“Stop, please stop!”

Nausea roiled through her stomach, and she
wanted to throw up all over him. To collapse onto the floor in
sobs. Of course he wouldn’t let her get away with just a chaste
kiss. Not when he’d made his intentions toward her clear. He’d
always leered at Brianna in the past, but she was long gone. And
never would have put up with this shit.

Frank stood back up and eyed her, looking
smug. He tweaked her bare breast with his fingers, causing her to
jump and pushed her against the wall so that his erection ground
into her stomach. His hand possessively covered her breast as he
ducked his head, his lips at her ear. Rough fingers massaged her
flesh, and he groaned in approval. “You have perfect tits, Ella.
Next time you need a favor, like keeping your job, I’ll be wanting
much more than one little taste.”

He backed away, and she stood there shaking,
too shocked to even cover her exposed breast.

“And cover yourself up,” he said, turning
toward the door. “I don’t need anyone getting any ideas about
us.”

The doorbell of Brent’s apartment rang
Friday night, followed by a loud knock, and Brent muttered a curse
as he tugged a fresh tee shirt and clean pair of jeans on. Steam
from the bathroom escaped as he walked down the hallway toward his
front door. His brother was supposed to call him when he arrived at
the airport in Richmond, several hours away, but leave it to Brock
to do things his own way. Trudging barefoot across his apartment,
Brent threw open the front door and took in his younger brother—two
inches taller than him, leaner, with the same jet black hair and
piercing blue eyes. Brock, however, looked slightly more pulled
together in jeans, shirt, and casual blazer, appearing every part
the NYPD detective.

“No phone call?” Brent asked. “I could’ve
hooked you up with a ride. Buddy of mine from base was out that
way.”

“I hooked up all right. Met a babe in the
airport and banged her in the back of her rental car. She was
meeting some girlfriends for a getaway at Virginia Beach and gave
me a lift from Richmond.”

Brent chuckled. “No shit. How’d you manage
that? Can’t believe she’d drive your sorry ass around for several
hours. You must’ve shown her a damn good time.”

Brock laughed and dropped his duffle bag on
the ground. “Showed her my badge.”

“Is that what you’re calling your dick these
days?”

“Fucker. She said normally she wouldn’t give
a man she didn’t know a ride, but she trusted me since I was a
cop.”

“So she’s an idiot.”

“Had the body of a centerfold. That’s good
enough for me.”

“Where’d she drop you off?”

“Hotel on the main drag,” Brock said with a
chuckle. “I had to pay for a cab over to your place.”

Brent shook his head as Brock walked over
and collapsed on the sofa, stretching one long arm across the back.
That shit was exactly what he would’ve done, too. He was a goddamn
expert at slipping away, leaving a woman wondering where he’d
disappeared to. He never in a million years should’ve made that
dick move with Ella though. Twenty-four hours later, and he still
couldn’t get her hurt expression out of his mind.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Brock
asked. “I came down all the way from New York to grace you with my
presence this weekend. Relive the good old days. Beers and
babes?”

Brent smirked. “Some things never
change.”

“Says the man who’s slept with a million
women.”

“Even I haven’t gotten laid that much. A
couple of guys on the team are meeting up for beers. No worries
though—the women are everywhere down here.”

Brock plucked a red satin thong from between
the cushions on Brent’s sofa and held it in the air with a grin.
“I’d say so. I don’t suppose the owner of these has any attractive
friends?”

Memories of the other night flashed though
Brent’s mind—of bringing a woman back in the early morning hours.
Whipping her dress off as they kissed each other thoroughly.
Pulling her panties down with his teeth. Rather than relishing in
the aftermath though, his gut churned. What the hell did he care if
his brother knew he’d had a woman here earlier this week? He could
do whatever the fuck he wanted. And normally he’d be dishing out
the dirty details faster than anyone could ask.

“Guess she wanted to leave me a little
souvenir,” he muttered. Instantly, he felt guilty, which was
fucking ridiculous. Why wouldn’t he have brought a woman home with
him a few days ago? His little spat with Ella last night didn’t
mean shit.

“Maybe you can collect a few more pairs
tonight,” Brock said with a gleam in his eye. “I could go for some
tanned, toned hotties.”

“Plenty of those around. Too many.”

“Hey, If you’re not interested, more for
me,” Brock chuckled. “Are you just in a shit mood tonight because
of Lizzie?”

“What?”

“You can’t beat yourself up about it
forever. I miss her, too. I’m pissed as hell about it. But you’ve
got to move on with your life.”

Of course his brother would instantly assume
that was the reason for his somber mood. It usually was.

“That shit’s not your fault,” Brock
chastised.

“The hell it isn’t,” Brent snapped. “I
should’ve done more. Gotten home in time to help her.”

“I’m a fucking cop,” Brock said. “An NYPD
detective. I know how restraining orders go. The system’s fucked
up. And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about
her. Wish that we had been there to protect her. But do I blame
myself? There are procedures for those types of things. That
asshole hadn’t threatened her yet. The police department’s hands
were tied.”

“So you’re siding with them?” Brent asked in
disbelief. “Against our own sister?”

“Hell no. I’m just pointing out that the
system doesn’t always work. It fucked us over, big time. I work
twice as hard as a cop now because of it. I’ve just seen this shit
eat you alive for years, man. Live your life.”

“Easier said than done, asshole.”

Brock shook his head and stood. “Guess we’ll
agree to disagree.”

“Damn straight,” he muttered.

“So is there still a chance you’re getting
called up on an op this weekend? I know you can’t tell me, but I’m
just wondering if your sorry ass will still be here in the
morning.”

“The hell if I know,” Brent grumbled,
walking over to grab his jacket. “But hey, if you meet a woman,
make yourself at home.”

Brock shrugged, a grin crossing his face.
“Hit me up with your spare key. Let’s work some bars and pick up
some women. The Rollins brothers are on the prowl.”

***

Brent leaned back in his chair at a table in
the corner of Anchors an hour later, surveying the scene. The
Friday night crowd ebbed and flowed around them—young sailors
flirting with pretty women, college students enjoying a few drinks,
and couples out for a night of fun. He took a pull from his
longneck, assessing the entire bar. Two giggling women approached
them, and he watched as Brock hauled one of them right into his
lap. Hell, it was exactly the way he used to hold court—back when
the team went out every weekend.

The redhead standing beside her friend and
Brock playfully pouted, and Brent resisted the urge to roll his
eyes, tugging her over to his side. She smelled like coconuts or
some other fruity shit. She had tits that must’ve been D cups. She
giggled as he asked her name.

“Are you a cop, too?” she asked, smiling at
him.

“Nah, I’m in the Navy.”

The pretty little floral sundress she had on
was exactly the type of thing he liked to strip off a woman. It was
the type of dress that looked good on his bedroom floor.

“I have a thing for men in uniform,” she
said.

Pretty green eyes met his.

Hell.

He just wasn’t feeling it tonight. Not when
she stepped closer, her cleavage right at his eye level. Not when
she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

A young waitress came over to take their
order for another round of drinks, and he saw the rest of his team
come walking in, drawing the attention of much of the female crowd.
In the old days the guys would’ve loved that type of entrance, but
now that they each had their own woman, they barely seemed to
notice.

Huh.

Mike led the way, with Christopher and
Matthew behind him, and Patrick bringing up the rear. The only man
missing was Evan, and Brent wondered if Alison was sick again. The
other guys had all left directly from base. Guess the good thing
about his brother catching his own ride was that they could start
their night earlier, throwing back a few beers before the other
guys arrived.

The woman he was all but ignoring finally
excused herself, no doubt looking for someone far more attentive
than him. He watched as she beelined toward some young guys at the
bar. Guess one of them was getting lucky tonight. Matthew stepped
off to the side as the team approached, nodding at Brent as he took
a phone call. They’d had to work out their shit during training
today. Didn’t mean his buddy was happy with him though.

The other guys walked up, smirking as they
saw Brock with a woman in his lap.

“No shit, there are two of you?” Mike
laughed, slapping Brent on the back. “This is gonna be goddamn
good.”

“How’s that?” Patrick asked, raising his
eyebrows as he pulled out a chair.

“Twice the entertainment for the evening. If
Brent and a woman are a sight to see, can you image double
that?”

“Guess you haven’t met Brock yet,” Brent
said, raising an eyebrow. “My kid brother.”

“One of New York’s finest,” Brock said. But
he wasn’t watching the other men anymore, just gazing at the woman
on his lap with lust-filled eyes. She leaned over to whisper in his
ear, and he was on his feet in two seconds. “Catch you guys later,”
he said, possessively squeezing her ass as he guided her toward the
front door.

They disappeared into the crowd, and the
other men laughed. “Jesus Christ, he’s just like you,” Christopher
said.

“The similarities are uncanny,” Patrick
agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Why’d you chase her friend away?” Mike
asked. “She seemed like your type. What’d you say the other night?
Tits and an ass worked for you?”

Brent flicked his gaze over to Mike, anger
rising within him. “Just wasn’t feeling it.”

“Ain’t that a fucking first,” Christopher
said. His gaze swept over to Patrick, apparently already done with
the conversation. “Is Rebecca home with the kids?”

“Affirmative,” Patrick said, his voice low.
“She and Alison went out the other night—for smoothies or something
since Alison was sick,” he said wryly. The dude looked pretty damn
happy though. “So she’s home with the kids tonight. I got word from
the CO that we’ll probably get called up in the next week or two.
The op got pushed back temporarily.”

Brent raised his eyebrows. “Any reason why?”
He’d fully expected the team to be leaving tomorrow. Now he’d be
stuck at his place with his brother and whatever woman he dragged
home. Not that Brock would keep her around long in the morning—he’d
probably come up with some lame ass excuse, just like he’d do
himself. Maybe Brock thought his head was in a better place than
Brent’s, but who the fuck was he kidding? They both loved to
distract themselves with a beautiful woman.

His gaze roamed across the bar, taking in a
busty blonde in a hot pink dress. He could lose himself in someone
like that for the evening. Squeeze her tits, sink into her pussy.
Wouldn’t make him feel better though. And for once his mind was
filled with regret about a woman other than his sister.

Ella had been on his mind all fucking day.
The hurt look on her face when he’d left last night. Matthew’s
accusations this morning. Even when Brent had tried to do right by
her, by leaving her there, he’d ended up feeling like shit. He
might as well have slept with her. Kissing her sure as shit hadn’t
made him okay with walking away from her. It had only made him
demand more.

He’d texted a lame ‘I’m sorry’ to her
earlier, after getting her cell number from Matthew. But he’d used
a burner phone from base. Only way Matthew would give out her
digits.

Not that he blamed him.

“Shit,” Matthew muttered, tossing his phone
atop the table as he joined the group and sank down into a
chair.

Patrick’s cool blue gaze flicked to him.
“Everything okay? Thought you decided not to join us after
all.”

“I just talked to Bri,” he grumbled. “She
called me and was all upset about Ella. Brianna thinks she’s back
working at the damn cocktail lounge.”

Brent’s gaze slid to him. “What?” he asked,
his voice steel. “Why the hell would Ella go back there? She just
flew back today. There’s no way she’d be working there already. Or
ever again.”