Raging Hard: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance (With bonus novel Based!) (15 page)

I was deep in his wake. He was a ship sailing through my life, pulling me along, and I knew I was powerless to stop it.

Nate had me. As rude and crude as he was, he completely owned me.

And I couldn’t wait for more.

I
woke up early and hit the beach running before Claire even began to stir.

The night before kept playing in my head like a movie. The sheer animal desire of it was incredible. She seemed almost insatiable. After the first time, we went at it again, and again her pussy was so fucking perfect that I wanted to come the instant I slammed inside her.

It was the perfect stress release. After getting home from the boat, she was clearly still in shock from seeing me take out those two amateur pirates. I needed to help calm her down, and apparently rough, sweaty sex was exactly what she had needed and wanted.

We fell asleep together, my arms wrapped around her. I woke up with a start, surprised that I was still with her. Normally I would have gotten out of there, because I wasn’t the type to sleep over. I couldn’t give the girls I fucked the impression that they’d ever see me again.

I was a SEAL, after all. My life was inherently short and brutal. I couldn’t let myself fall in love with some pussy.

But it was different with Claire. All the normal shit that kept me from getting close had never even occurred to me until I woke up in the morning. It felt natural and right to just lay there, sweating and talking about normal shit until we both passed out.

Worst of all, I hadn’t thought about those pirates at all. In the cold, early morning hours, I suddenly realized that something had been bugging me about them, but I had been too wrapped up in giving Claire the best fucking orgasms of her life to really notice it.

As I ran down the beach, my body limbering up, my breath coming in deep, I began to tease it all apart.

First, they seemed like amateurs. Any pirates working the U.S. coast would absolutely have to be pros just to keep from getting caught. Those two guys just seemed like normal thugs with a speedboat.

Second, they both had the same tattoo. That in itself wasn’t weird, since there were plenty of gangs and pirate crews that used symbols to prove membership. But there was something about the symbol that was nagging at me, like I had seen it before somewhere.

Finally, and most damning, was the situation they’d found us in. Why were pirates out in the rain? Maybe they thought the bad weather meant it would be easier to stay out of sight and slip past anybody that was patrolling the waters. But it also meant that most boats worth anything wouldn’t have left the harbor.

So why decide to attack some piece of shit junker like the one we were in? They had to know that we were a tourist vessel and that we didn’t have anything worth stealing. Maybe they were just going to attack the first ship they saw, but that was just stupid and reckless, even for pirates.

The whole thing felt fucked up and wrong. If they weren’t just some run-of-the-mill pirates, then who were they, and why did they come after us?

I was drenched in sweat and feeling good by the time I made my way back to the house. Claire was still sleeping, and our parents hadn’t come home, which meant it was easy for me to slip upstairs, shower off, change, and grab some food real fast.

I was out the door before anyone knew any better.

––––––––

T
he Outer Banks was a popular tourist destination. Claire’s dad lived in the richest town, but there were plenty of other places scattered throughout the 200-mile expanse that were typically included as a part of the Outer Banks but weren’t full of millionaires.

It was large enough to hide a few little hidden pirate coves, too, but I didn’t know where to find any. Plus, I couldn’t go around asking questions like that, or else I was liable to get stabbed in the neck. Walking up and down the coast until I found something was out of the question, too, considering the whole point of a pirate cove was to be hidden from people. One asshole wandering around wasn’t going to just stumble upon it, not to mention the huge size of the coast.

Instead, I made a drawing of the symbol I’d seen tattooed on those guys and went to one of the seediest towns I knew about.

Seedy for Outer Banks standards, at least. It was still pretty decent, with plenty of tourist crap and whatnot, but it wasn’t geared toward the rich and the ultra-rich. It was a little rough around the edges. As I walked around the downtown and boardwalk areas, I felt much more comfortable here than I had back with Claire and her dad.

It didn’t take me long before I found the shadiest bar in the area. It was a dive called The Salty Pecker that had a seagull as their mascot. I smirked to myself, always one to appreciate a good penis joke, as I went inside the dimly-lit space.

It was early, still before noon, and the few people in there were hardcore regulars. Otherwise, it was mostly empty, and so I took a seat at the bar until the bartender came over.

“What can I do for you?”

“Beer. Coffee, too, if you have it.”

“Beer and coffee, coming up. You want some food?”

“Nah. Not right now.”

He nodded. “Kitchen does breakfast for another hour.”

I thanked him as he walked away. Only in the Outer Banks would a dive bar also serve breakfast.

He returned with my drinks pretty quickly, and I left him a decent tip. I drank the coffee first, enjoying the scalding heat, and watched a soccer game on TV.

I was going to have to be patient, and patience was not one of my strongest qualities. Still, I couldn’t exactly wave the symbol around to every asshole I saw, hoping that someone would lead me directly to the pirates. I had to be subtle, or at least a little bit subtle, otherwise I’d get that knife right in the back.   

I wasn’t sure why I kept thinking about getting stabbed. I was probably remembering how I had killed the first guy on the boat. Not that I felt bad about that or anything. I’d killed before in the line of duty and would kill again. But it was the first time I’d killed outside of a mission, and it felt a little strange.

Still, I’d do it again if it meant protecting Claire. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it or anything like that.

I started in on the beer as the first hour ticked away. I finished it and ordered another, tipping generously again. Soon people began to filter in, mostly tourist types, but also a few hard-looking people, probably locals.

Eventually I started chatting with the barman. He was a bored guy, owner of the place, and seemed happy just to have someone to talk with. He’d been married but was divorced, and he had lived in the area his whole life. He was Dan the barman, and I had to repress a little smile at the stupid rhyme.

Eventually I ordered a third drink, tipping well again, and worked up my nerve.

“So, Dan, you must know a lot about this place.”

“A lot? My great-granddaddy was the mayor for a few years. I know this place better than anyone.”

I nodded. “You seem like a smart guy, too.”

“Guess you could say that.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“If I can, I will.”

I took the drawing out of my pocket and opened it up. As soon as he saw it, I could tell he recognized what it was, but his face quickly passed over his initial reaction.

“Do you know what this means?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I have a friend who has this tattoo, and I’m trying to find him.”

He looked at me quietly for a minute. “You got a friend with that mark?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think you should leave.”

I was surprised at how fast his demeanor shifted. One second he was affable and kind, and the next his eyes were narrowed and I could sense the threat behind his words.

I folded the paper back up. “Okay, okay. No harm meant. If you don’t know, you don’t know.”

“I ain’t kidding. Get out of here.”

“What do you know about this, Dan? It’s very important to me.”

He leaned closer. “Don’t go around asking folks about that symbol unless you want to get yourself killed. That’s all I’ll say.”

I stared hard at him for a second and then nodded once. “Thanks, Dan.”

He nodded back and walked away. I finished my beer and left the place.

What a damn strange interaction. I figured Dan might have some passing knowledge, maybe had seen it on someone’s riding leathers or something like that, but his reaction was of a very different order of magnitude. Whoever these people were, they were not to be fucked with. And Dan the barman definitely knew exactly who they were.

As I sat down on a bench outside the bar, I knew I had a conundrum on my hands. Based on the way Dan had reacted, any local that knew about the group wasn’t going to say a word to an outsider. Whether it was out of fear or something else, I wasn’t sure. Dan seemed afraid, but also a little angry that I was even mentioning it.

The solution to my problem came to me pretty quickly. It wasn’t ideal, or really even something that I particularly wanted to do, but I knew that it would be effective.

I made up my mind. I couldn’t fuck around with this and half-ass the mission. The safety of Claire was potentially at risk. If there was something going on with this crew or gang or whatever they were, I needed to find out who they were and learn what I was dealing with as quickly as possible.

I wasn’t about to let some asshole thugs threaten me and mine. They’d already ruined one day. That was enough to really piss me off.

––––––––

I
t was late, the sun having set hours ago. I was crouched in some bushes, my breathing steady, everything about me Zen as fuck. It was my combat training, of course, that let me be so calm.

The bandana I had bought with cash at some tourist trap was pulled up over my face like an Old West robber. I didn’t think it was going to do much to hide my identity, but it could help. I fingered the knife in its holster, fresh from the kill just a day earlier.

The drunks and the regulars were stumbling out of the bar. I checked my watch: nearly three in the morning. There weren’t many streetlights around, and those that were nearby shone a weak, yellow blur, which meant it was the perfect spot to play the waiting game.

It didn’t take too long after that. Once the people had filtered out, maybe ten minutes later Dan the barman made his appearance.

I watched as he locked the door to the bar.
Okay, Nathan, don’t fuck this shit up,
I thought to myself.

I was out of the bushes and crossing the space between him and me within seconds. He had no clue I was there until he felt the steel of my blade pressed up against his throat.

“Don’t move or I kill you,” I whispered.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Take what you want. Don’t hurt me.”

“Open the door.”

He unlocked it and pushed it inward. I kept my blade firmly against his neck, careful not to cut the skin. It took skill to keep such a sharp blade as mine from opening him up as he moved around, but I was good with it.

We moved inside and I shut the door behind us.

“Money is in the drawer,” he said. “Behind the bar. Take it all. Please, God, don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Shut up,” I growled.

“I have kids.” He was practically pissing himself.

“Listen to me,” I said. “I need information.”

“Information?” he sputtered.

“Yes. You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or you will die right here in this bar. See the gloves I’m wearing? Nobody will know. Not a shred of DNA.”

He glanced down at my hands, covered in some cheap leather things I’d found in another shop.

“Okay,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“A man was in here earlier. Showed you a symbol. Remember?”

He paused and then nodded.

“Speak. Don’t nod. I might cut you open if you move too fast,” I whispered.

He whimpered like a little bitch. I couldn’t believe he was being such a pussy. All men die sooner or later.

“I remember,” he said.

“Who are they?”

“I can’t say.”

He was on the verge of crying.

“You don’t seem to understand what’s happening here, Dan.” I spoke slowly and menacingly, hoping he understood. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to murder you right now. Do you think the kind of person looking for men like them wouldn’t?”

“If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”

“That’s not my problem. But at least in that case, you can get a running head start.”

He whimpered again as I pressed the knife harder against his skin, nicking him ever so slightly.

“Okay, okay. Please don’t kill me,” he groaned. “I’ll tell you.”

“Start talking.”

“They’re like a gang, old blood, been around this area for a long, long time. They have a hand in everything that happens around here, from business to politics and everything in between.”

“The mob?”

“Worse. More like a cult. They practice some freaky Voodoo shit. They’re going to know I talked.” He began to cry.