Shooting the SEAL (Saving the SEALs Series Book 1) (2 page)

Anna took a deep breath. Her arms ached from holding the Hasselblad—she really should go digital, but nothing looked as good as the Hasselblad’s images. She also still liked developing her own film and scanning the best images into the computer.

She put the camera back on its tripod and grabbed two bottles of water from the ice chest. “Take five. We’re not slave drivers here.”

He gave a nod and tucked the prop gun away in this back of his jeans like it was a real one he wanted to hang onto. “Thanks. These lights really make you sweat.”

On him, it looked sexy. She grabbed a towel from Linda and tossed it at him. “Have a seat. I need to reload my camera.” She grabbed the Hasselblad and headed for the darkroom to get a new roll in and the first roll developed—she wanted to see how the film was looking.

She still couldn’t figure out why a Navy SEAL would want to be a cover model, but she wasn’t going to complain. Coran was going to be more than happy about the variety of images, and Gage was downright yummy in all the right places.

Well over six feet, he had no tan lines, a lot of muscle, and a light spray of hair across his chest. A happy trail disappeared under the buttons on his jeans, which had her fantasizing about the pot of gold that she was sure was at the end of the trail. Shaking her head in bemusement, Anna realized that while she had sworn off men—she did not have the best judgment when it came to guys—the sight of a truly delicious one sure set her imagination into high gear.

Well, she could look and not touch—but even when they’d shaken hands, she’d felt a nice, warm tingling. He hadn’t squeezed her hand too hard, or too lightly—but just right. She itched to run her finger down his straight nose and nibble on his firm jaw, but she was not going there with him. He looked military through and through, from the short haircut to the broad chest and muscles and right down the feet planted in military parade rest.

She got the film out, a new roll in, and started developing. Gage looked better when he talked. His face lit up, his eyes went from flat and guarded to bright. He was missing one earlobe on his right side, she noticed, and wondered if he had lost it in the line of duty. Well, she could shoot around it in the next session, but she liked the small flaw—it somehow left him more…real.

Leaving the photos to dry, she headed out with her camera. Gage was sitting in a canvas chair now, and Linda was fussing with him. The sound of loud voices echoed from the hall. The door slammed open and Marcella strode in, dressed in tight leather pants, a fitted vest and stiletto boots. Anna cringed.

Marcella had been hired to be the company’s art director. She was good at her job, but she also had more affectation than Lady Gaga, a voice that could cut glass at times and an artistic temperament. You never knew if you were going to get the happy Marcella, the sulky one, the angry one, or the pouting one. Thankfully, her mood changed as fast as her fashions did.

She stepped up to Gage, who stood, and held out her hand with her wrist arched. “And who might you be, lover?”

“Lieutenant Gage Jackelson,” he answered stiffly. He shook her hand with a hard pump.

Marcella’s smile faded, but a predatory look came into her eyes. “A lieutenant,” she said slowly. “How positively yummy.”

Anna started to step in to play referee—several other models had quit because of Marcella’s involvement in the photo shoot—but her phone vibrated. She glanced at the face of the phone and saw her mother’s number. “Why don’t we break for lunch?”

Marcella held up her hand. “But I just got here. You go along now. Take your call.”

Gage grabbed his shirt. “Lunch sounds great. See you in an hour.”

***

Gage met up with Scotty and Spencer in a bar two blocks down the street. He’d hoped they’d show. He glanced at the guys, ordered a beer and joined them in a booth at the back.

Scotty turned from admiring the waitress’ backside and lifted his beer. “To Nick. He shall not grow old, as we that are left to grow old. Age shall not weary him, nor will the years condemn him. As the sun sets below the horizon and rises up each morning, we will remember him.”

The clicked mugs. They’d been doing the same toast every day since Nick had died—they’d keep doing it until they knew what had happened.

Gage glanced at his watch. “Where the hell is Kyle? Anyone hear from him yet?” Gage was starting to worry about Kyle.

Nick hadn’t just been a brother-in-arms to Kyle—he’d been Kyle’s flesh-and-blood brother. It was always hard to lose someone, but Gage couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose your bro. Kyle and Nick and been close, and ever since they’d gotten home, Kyle didn’t want to talk about it—he didn’t want to talk about anything. He was spending too much time on his own.

Spencer glanced around the bar, and Gage followed his stare. It was just about automatic—you went into a place, you looked at the threats and exits. This one was a no-brainer. Front door and back. Lots of dark wood, a baseball game playing on the set, the sound turned low and the crowd roaring.

The place smelled of cigarettes even though a ‘no smoking’ sign hung next to the mirror behind the bar. Bottles of liquor sparkled in front of the mirror and a barman rubbed at an already spotless bar and watched the game over his shoulder.

The waitress was hanging out with two college-age kids at the front. No one else was in the place. No threats, plenty of options for an out, including the frosted-glass window next to the door. Spencer turned to Gage and his mouth pulled down. “His phone’s off—going straight to messaging.”

“I went by his apartment. Not there,” Scotty said. He pulled his eyes from the waitress with the tight ass.

Shaking his head, Gage stared into his beer. “He blames himself.”

Spencer straightened. “He should. He was in charge. It was his job to make sure everything went smoothly, not go sideways like that.”

Scotty held up a hand. “Not helping, Spence. Far as we know, Kyle’s tracing that sniper who shouldn’t have been there and gonna pay him back for Nick.”

“Nick and no one else—it was a damn hit,” Gage muttered.

Spencer slumped and cradled his beer. “What’d you find out about that publishing company? Any sign of Natalie?”

Shrugging, Gage thought about telling them the whole story, decided to skip most of it. “I’m going back after lunch. This place have burgers on a menu?”

“What d’you think?” Spencer asked.

“I think food poisoning could be a side,” Gage said. “I’m going to need to get closer in there. So far I’ve been doing more talking than they have.”

Scotty gave a laugh. “You?”

Gage nodded. He sipped his beer. He talked about the shoot, the people, keeping it to bare facts. “What about you two?”

Scotty shook his head. “Word from Commander Brighton is that the team’s under investigation. They think the shooting stinks, too, but that crap is starting to stick to us.”

Gage stiffened. “Investigation? So one of us set up Nick to get killed?”

Spencer put a hand on Gage’s shoulder. “No, they think we killed him. We’re dirty somehow, Nick was going to bail, and we snuffed him instead. Looking at it from the outside, I might think the same. Wouldn’t be first time someone got bought.”

Scotty nodded. “Brighton’s got a soft spot for us.”

“Soft in the head,” Gage muttered.

Spencer frowned, but Scotty grinned. “Look, given the nature of that last mission, for Nick to have been shot while the rest of the team walk home—someone had to have singled him out.”

“Yeah, tell us something we don’t know,” Gage said.
But why? Why, why why?
More and more questions. His head hurt.

Squaring his shoulders, Gage sat up and put his hands on the table. “How much time do you think we have?”

Scotty shrugged. “Not much. Officially, we’re on leave. Brighton’s running interference for us for now—you know he’s good at making the paperwork thick as a brick. Unofficially, he doesn’t want any of us—especially Kyle—to be anywhere where we can be found.”

Spencer lifted his beer. “Can’t be called in for questioning if we can’t be found.”

Turning, Scotty watched the waitress come over, a smile on his lips. Gage was almost ready to punch him. Instead, he ordered a burger. The other guys passed. He got back something that smelled burnt and looked like shoe leather between two buns. He buried it in ketchup, took a bite and asked, “What about that storage unit?”

“You mean the one Nick told us, and no one else, about?” Spencer shook his head. “Bust. Found his bug-out bag, with what any of us would have. Burner phone never used, clothes and some cash.”

Gage nodded. “Better keep your bags close. I got a bad feeling about this one.”

Spencer nodded. “Same damn feeling that started when that last mission came up. Something in this more than stinks.”

Scotty took a pull on his beer. “Yeah, well, let’s make sure the stink doesn’t end up tarring us as the bad guys. Gage, you going back to that publishing company? Right now that’s our only link to Natalie, and there’s got to be a reason she’s disappeared.”

Gage nodded. He left half his burger uneaten. He had a lump in his stomach and didn’t need another one there. “What about you two?”

Glancing at the waitress, Scotty said, “I’m going to try to get her number.” Gage stared at him, and Scotty pulled out Natalie’s photo. “I’m also going to see if Natalie ever came in here. After that I’ll canvas around, see if I can pick up any kind of lead.”

Suddenly, the photo shoot wasn’t looking so bad to Gage. He glanced at Spencer. “You?”

Spencer finished his beer. “I’m going to see if we can find out where our damn fearless leader has gone to ground.”

Now Gage was totally happy to head back to the studio. If Kyle didn’t want to be found, Kyle wasn’t going to be found. And Gage was just going to hope the wrong person hadn’t found Kyle first. For now, he had to go back and pose some more.

“Hello, Mother.” Anna forced her voice to stay even and calm.
Breathe in, breathe out.

“You are not a child anymore. You know that I prefer Eloise. Oh, well, it hardly matters since we are not in public. How are you, Dear?”

“I’m fine…Eloise. I’m also at work. Is there something you need?”

In the social circles around Washington D.C., Eloise Middleton was a force—a queen. Her late husband had been a Congressman. He’d been caught having an affair with his secretary, but Eloise had scored points for standing by her man.

The scandal had lost Charles Middleton the election, but he’d had strong enough connections by then—favors to be paid back—that he’d landed in the corporate world on both feet. And then a drunk driver had happened along.

Anna had adored her father, but she’d chosen to believe her mother had had nothing to do with the accident. However, she knew there were a lot of people who wouldn’t put it past Eloise to find payback for her husband’s affair. The death had put what had been a chilled relationship between mother and daughter into the freezer.

It hadn’t stopped Eloise Middleton from continuing to wield her influence with those who could most benefit Eloise’s causes. Anna knew herself to be on the list of just about lost causes. But Mother—Eloise—never called in the middle of work unless it was important.

Anna dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling loose a few strands from the ponytail. “Eloise?”

“I just called to tell you that your sister Susan is pregnant.”

“I know. I got the Facebook notification along with about five thousand other people. And…so…?” Anna began to pace.

“This is something to celebrate. If your little sister can find a man and get pregnant…and, oh, the shower is next month. You’ll get an invitation, but I need you to arrange the cake and entertainment. But, more importantly, if she can, you can. You are definitely prettier than she is, even if you are stupidly tall.”

Ouch.
Anna forced a smile. “Mother…Eloise, I can’t get to D.C. next month.”

“Of course you can. If you won’t tell your boss, put him on the phone and I will explain it. Senator Brown is looking into other publishers who are mixed up in these price-fixing scandals that keep coming out. I am certain your small company would prefer to be overlooked.”

Small?
Closing her eyes, Anna sucked in a breath.
Try independent, Mom.
But she needed her mother trying to extort her boss about as much as she needed a poke in the side with a stick. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll handle it.” She clicked off and started back to the studio—she’d grab yoghurt from the fridge.

At the elevator, she met up with Coran Williams. She waited while he stepped out.

He was dressed in his usual—jeans, an open-neck, button-front white shirt, and a smile. The loafers were Italian, had to have cost what Anna earned in a month, but this was more of a hobby business for Coran than anything else.

She often wondered why he kept the business going. Coran had recently celebrated his seventy-sixth birthday—he was rich enough to retire. Despite the casual clothes, he looked more like Montgomery Burns from the Simpsons than a trendy, hip guy. Bald with liver spots, and a hooked nose, she was pretty sure handsome was the last description anyone would give him. But he had presence.

He flashed her his usual tight smile. “How’s the shoot going?”

She nodded. “Surprisingly well. We only wanted someone who could look the part; I certainly didn’t expect us to land an actual Navy SEAL.”

He lifted a hand. A gold ring glinted on his little finger. “Long as it’s working. Is Marcella happy?”

“Is Marcella ever happy for very long?”

He nodded. “Good point.”

“I think she’ll be satisfied—and we’ll end up with good covers.”

“Good. I have golf this afternoon. Try not to burn down the place.” He flashed another smile and headed for the door.

Sometimes she wondered at his sense of humor. She grabbed her yoghurt, found Marcella had disappeared into her office, and Linda was sitting on the floor, paper bags and wrapped sandwiches spread out around her. From the aroma, Linda had gone for delivery from the deli down the street. Anna had no trouble trading yoghurt for a pastrami on rye that smelled like spicy heaven.

The elevator hummed, pinged, and Gage strode back into the studio. Somehow, he filled the space—it went from seeming industrial and huge to narrowing in on just him. He scanned the area, eyes narrowed, as if looking for threats, relaxed a little and asked, “Any of those sandwiches spare?”

Anna lifted her eyebrows, but it was Linda who asked, “Didn’t you eat?”

“I tried a burger down the street.”

Anna and Linda swapped stares and groans, and Anna said, “The bar? Binky’s? Yeah, world’s worst. Their fish tacos put two construction workers in the hospital.” She held up half her pastrami. “I’ll share.”

He sat down next to her. She wasn’t sure how a guy with that much bulk could move as gracefully as he did. “Any chance I could get some more water?” He offered up a smile that warmed her like the sun on her face.

“Of course.” She scrambled to get him another bottle—it was a great excuse for the heat on her face.

Once she’d settled, he asked, “Have you worked here long?”

“Three years,” Linda answered.

Anna smiled. She was happy to let Linda field this one—it wasn’t so much that she wasn’t sociable just that she wasn’t so hot at dealing with hot guys. Her last pick—well, the less that was thought about thar, the better.

But Gage turned to her. “You like it here?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “It’s okay. The shoots are fun, but there’s a ton of computer work to get something that Marcella likes.”

“And she is…?”

Linda wrinkled her nose. “A pain in the ass.”

Anna nudged her with an elbow. “The art director—the person we must please.”

“How did you hear about us?” Linda asked. She licked her yoghurt spoon. “We usually get all our models through an agency or referrals.”

Gage shifted, and Anna had the oddest feeling he was about to duck the question or lie. “Guy I knew. His wife writes romance novels. Maybe you know her? Natalie?”

Linda gave a laugh and leaned close. “We’re supposed to read what we publish, but, y’know, I just work here. Would you believe, the guy who runs this is worth five billion? Five.
Billion
. If I had that much, I’d be somewhere sipping cocktails with little umbrellas in them. My boyfriend thinks he’s into something illegal.”

“Linda!” Anna shook her head.

“Well, it’s true.” Linda dropped her voice lower, “Tom think it’s drugs, but I think Coran looks more like someone who’d sell guns.”

Rolling her eyes, Anna gave a laugh. “Yeah, and Tom is not only a total conspiracy nut, he’s making you into one, too.”

Gage shrugged. “Hey, it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.”

She looked at him and blinked. Oh, no—not again. He’d seemed so stable, so normal—but of course, if she was attracted to him, something had to be wrong. Wadding up her sandwich paper, she stood. “Time to get back to work. Linda, don’t we have another model coming in so we can get some couple shots?”

“Sounds like lunch is over.” Linda stood and headed downstairs to find out.

Anna picked up her camera, and Marcella joined them. Gage headed for his spot in front of the green screen.

“Darling, you have to lose the shirt.” She smiled up at him as she began to unbutton it.

He took her hands and put them back at her sides. “Thanks. Got it handled.”

“What. Ever.” Marcella waved a hand. “But I want to see you making love to the camera.”

Somehow Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes over that one. Marcella stepped back, and Anna started shooting. Somehow Gage seemed more relaxed now. He stared straight into the camera—or was that straight into her? Her heartbeat quickened and her mouth dried. He was more than a hunk—he looked like one of those sculpted statues, perfection except for that one nicked ear.

She heard Marcella give a low hum of pleasure, but the world seemed to become just her and Gage…him staring at her though the camera as if he could see into her soul. She wanted to touch him, to reach out and stroke her fingers over his delts, to trace down over his ribs to that rippling six pack. She wet her lips and a sudden fantasy of him in her bed took over—he’d take over, she knew that. He’d strip her bare and she’d offer herself up to him.

She noticed his lips curve into a smile. She looked up at him over the camera and caught his spark of amusement as his blue eyes danced.
Busted!

Anna felt her face heat. In the next second, an ear-splitting alarm started to screech.