SEAL of Honor Read online

  Ah-ha. That did it.

  Gabe caught her mouth again in a hot, hungry kiss and stood, his fingers digging into her rear as she wrapped her legs tight around his middle. He had such big, masculine hands. They felt delicious on her flesh. She wanted them touching her everywhere.

  He turned and dumped her on the mattress. She bounced and laughed until—

  God, that expression on his face. He stood beside the bed, breathing hard, his lips swollen from their kiss, his hooded eyes drinking her in like he wanted to devour every inch of her.

  Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to shout, but her breath stalled in her lungs. She shifted on the bed, letting her knees drop apart, allowing him to look his fill. And he did, studying her with a hot intensity that she’d never seen on another man’s face before. If she were a match, his gaze alone would have set her aflame.

  “Gabe,” she whispered. His golden eyes flicked up to meet hers. She held out her arms. “Please. I want you.”

  Something stirred behind his eyes as he shirked his clothes in seconds and sank into a crouch at her feet. Reverence. Desire. Maybe a little fear.

  She still wore her sandals and he kissed her toes as he unbuckled each and tossed them aside. Then he kissed his way up her body until they were nose-to-nose and she squirmed for more.

  There. He was right there at her entrance and still resisting, damn him. She hooked her legs over his hips and urged him closer, dug her heels into his butt and lifted herself so that he had no choice but to fill her. Hard. Again and again and again…

  “Audrey,” he breathed and gripped her hips, lifting her into his thrusts. “You’re—so hot. You’re—God, baby, are you coming for me?”

  She was. Her head bumped the headboard with each powerful thrust and she was flying apart underneath him. She had to clamp her teeth onto his shoulder to keep from screaming and letting everyone in the estate know exactly how incredible he felt inside of her.

  “Christ.” Gabe stopped moving to stare at her. “You’re like nitro. One touch and boom.”

  She let go of his shoulder, soothing the bite with her tongue before grinning up into his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a two pump chump.”

  He laughed. A real laugh, loud and rolling, the first she’d ever heard from him. “I love it,” he said and kissed her hard.

  Then he moved again. Started slow, a long glide in and a delicious slide out, until she was panting, so close on the verge of another orgasm her fingers and toes tingled and she begged for harder, faster…

  He flung her into a whirlwind of sensuality she’d never imagined and she soared, basking in the bliss of another release. Oh God, the man had to be an angel, because she was in heaven.

  When she floated back to herself a moment later, she opened her eyes and there he was, her angel warrior, still surging over her. Sweat rolled down his temple and his jaw clenched. With one final deep thrust, his head fell back and his mouth opened on a ragged moan as he shuddered with his orgasm. Just as she’d once mused, he was beautiful when he let go and lost control like that.

  Gabe collapsed on top of her, but only for a second. She didn’t mind his weight, but protective man that he was, he was probably afraid of squishing her. He rolled to his back, switching their positions. His eyes closed, his breathing settled into a nice, even rhythm, but Audrey knew he wasn’t asleep. His fingers stroked up and down her arm in the lightest of caresses.

  Silence descended, but it wasn’t at all uncomfortable. Amazing that she didn’t feel the need to fill it with cooed oh-it-was-so-goods and other inane ego stroking. Gabe was a man comfortable with his body, comfortable with a woman’s body, and comfortable with sex, and he knew all too well he’d done it right.

  Boy, had he ever done it right.

  Audrey smiled to herself and propped her weight on one elbow to study him. His body fascinated her now more than ever. Wide, heavy arms and shoulders, and an honest-to-goodness eight pack with ridges between each muscle group that arrowed into a sharp V at his hips. His nipples were like copper pennies, his navel such a shallow innie that it was almost an outie. And how adorable was that?

  With a smattering of dark hair, his chest was the most defined she’d ever seen, but he still wasn’t body-builder bulky. Maybe he wore all that muscle so well because of his height.

  A set of dog tags rested on a ball chain between his pecs. Audrey had felt them, cool against her skin, when he was on top, had seen them swinging when he propped himself up on his big arms to thrust deeper. Now she picked them up to read the engraving.

  BRISTOW, GABRIEL M

  938867004USN A NEG

  NORELPREF

  “These look new,” she said. No scuffs or dings, still shiny. She didn’t doubt that Gabe, meticulous man that he was, would keep them in mint condition. Still, it seemed like they’d be a little beat up if he’d had them since he was seventeen. “Are these new?”

  “Hm?” Gabe looked up, spotted the dog tags dangling between her fingers, dropped his head back to the pillow and shut his eyes again. “No. I just didn’t start wearing them until last year.”

  “Why not?”

  “Wearing them on ops was more of a risk than not. Last thing I wanted was to let the enemy know I was a SEAL. And now…” He opened his eyes again and took the tags from her, rubbing his thumb over his name. “I can’t seem to take them off.”

  She smiled at the pensive note in his voice and thought about the tattoo on his shoulder. Two battle-dressed skulls faced off while an eagle carrying a trident wrapped in an American flag flew over the design. Across the bottom stretched a banner with the famous SEAL motto: The only easy day was yesterday.

  She bet he got that tattoo around the time he started wearing his dog tags. “You miss the Navy, huh?”

  He stayed silent for so long, she didn’t expect an answer. Then he surprised her with, “I really do, Audrey. It’s where I belong. Not here, working as a private contractor.”

  She so didn’t agree, but decided to keep her protests to herself. For now. “What does the M stand for?” she asked instead, rubbing her thumb over his name.

  “Matthew.”

  “Named for an archangel and a saint,” she mused. “My mama would have loved that. The only reason I didn’t end up Mary Something-or-Other is because Daddy was a huge Audrey Hepburn fan. Are your parents very religious people?”

  He grunted. “They like to appear that way. Truth is, we never went to church.”

  Audrey nodded and pointed to the last line on the tag. “Hence your lack of religious preference?”

  “Yup.”

  “My mother was extremely religious,” she said and weaved the chain between her fingers. “She raised me to be, too, but…well, I’ve never really fit into the mold my parents cast for me.”

  “I don’t think any children do,” Gabe said, again surprising her. Who’d have thought him such an insightful man? His voice softened. “Parents need to be able to accept their children for who they are or not become parents at all.”

  Ah, she got it now. He was thinking of his brother. Knowing what she knew of his father, Raffi’s coming out of the closet must have been a hellish event in the Bristow household. She imagined young Gabe torn between the love he had for his baby brother and the loyalty he felt toward his tyrant of a father—and fell hopelessly in love with him because he’d chosen Raffi.

  Not that she’d had very far to fall.

  She replaced the dog tags and soothed a hand down his chest. “You’d make an excellent father, you know.” When every muscle in his body went tight underneath her, she laughed. “Just an observation, sailor.”

  “Jesus Christ, Aud. That’s seriously not great post-sex conversation.” He groaned and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “And we didn’t use anything. Fuck!”

  “Yes, that’s what we did.”

  He shifted to face her, his gaze a little bit wild. “I didn’t… I never… Are you…?”

  Stuttering. The big bad SEAL was stuttering! Audr
ey thought about goading him on, but he looked so genuinely distressed that she didn’t have the heart.

  “Relax, Gabe.” She patted his cheek. “We’re safe. I’m on birth control.”

  “You haven’t been able to take any—”

  “Since I’m too forgetful to take a pill every day,” she interrupted, “I switched to the shot, which is good for three months, and my next isn’t due until July. So relax before you hyperventilate.”

  “Okay.” He ran a hand over his eyes, heaved out a breath. “Okay. You should know I was clean last time I got tested. And I haven’t slept with anyone since before the car accident.”

  That long ago? Wow. He was practically a monk. A very sexy, very very talented monk. And, yeah, the dirty little fantasy that just popped into her head of dressing him up in a Franciscan robe while she wore a school girl outfit probably just secured her seat in Hell. Mama would be so ashamed.

  Gabe was watching her, waiting for a reply to… Um, what were they talking about? It definitely wasn’t Franciscan monks.

  Oh, right. Him being disease free. “I had no doubts about that, Mr. Responsible.”

  He lifted his head to scowl at her. She rolled her eyes and added, “I’m clean, too. I don’t take those kinds of chances. I don’t sleep around.”

  “Good.”

  Was that possessiveness she heard in his voice? Oh, a girl could only hope. She snuggled into his side and savored the feel of his heavy arm around her. His lips brushed her temple.

  “Get some sleep, honey. We’re going to need it.”

  She tried. She truly did, but as soon as she shut her eyes, she saw her brother’s face.

  Was he still alive? If he was alive, was he in one piece? Had his captors beaten him or starved him…or worse? And even if they get him back, would he still be lost to her? She wasn’t a dummy. She knew what a traumatic experience like this could do to a man.

  Did Mena really know anything about Bryson? She didn’t see how, and Gabe didn’t think so, but she felt like they were out of options. No telling when the FBI would try to exchange money for Brys, and although Gabe never said so, she knew he thought paying the ransom was an all-around bad idea. The captors would have no reason to keep Bryson alive after that. And sixty-five million reasons to kill him so he couldn’t identify them.

  “Audrey,” Gabe whispered in her ear then moved over her. His mouth found hers in a sweet, gentle kiss that was more about comfort than sex. “I can hear your mind churning from over here. Shut down, honey.”

  “I can’t,” she confessed. “I’m scared.”

  “I told you I’d let nothing happen to you.”

  Cocky man. But she believed him. He was more than capable of keeping her safe. “I’m not scared for us.” He raised a brow, his expression patient but dubious, and she sighed. “Well, okay, I am. But I’m more worried about Bryson. What if—”

  “No, no. Never play the ‘what if’ game. You’ll drive yourself nuts.”

  She bit her lip. “But what if we don’t get to him in time? They’ll kill him, won’t they?”

  Gabe rolled over onto his back again and stared up at the ceiling. “If we can’t get to him in time, my team will find him,” he said after a moment and squeezed her against his side. “Don’t worry. Quinn knows what he’s doing.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Quinn had no fucking clue what he was doing.

  Since leaving the guerilla camp, Jesse and Ian had been at each other’s throats constantly, still bickering over Ian’s treatment of Cocodrilo, who was now a “guest” in one of the bedrooms at base camp. And since Quinn had all but sanctioned Ian’s actions, Jesse shared the love with him. Jean-Luc sided with Jesse, and Marcus sided with Ian once he found out what was going on. Harvard tried to mediate, but the poor guy got crushed between both sides.

  This mission was turning into a snafu for the record books.

  Quinn sat at the table while the guys raged around him. He studied maps of the city and outlying areas that highlighted known EPC strongholds, but what he really wanted to do was bang his head against the table until he passed out. Because that would probably be more productive since, according to Cocodrilo, the EPC knew exactly squat about Bryson Van Amee’s abduction. They had nothing to do with any of it, and if Jacinto Rivera was involved, it was without his brother’s or the EPC’s blessing.

  So who the hell took Bryson Van Amee? And who attacked Cocodrilo’s camp and presumably took Gabe and Audrey? He imagined it was the same person or organization that got into that shootout with the EPC on the jungle highway, but the license plate numbers Jean-Luc had taken down after finding Gabe’s Jeep shot to hell had come back stolen.

  Back to square one.

  Quinn pushed aside the maps and sat back in thought. They still needed to find Jacinto Rivera, their only solid lead to Bryson. And that warehouse still needed to go boom at some point, or else he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly at night knowing he left a bomb-making factory in the hands of the baddies.

  Mostly, the team needed to pull the fuck together or nothing would get done.

  How would Gabe do it? Quinn had no clue. Gabe just had a natural aura of authority that made people follow him without question. Quinn didn’t have that, but he did know one surefire way to whip the guys into line. He may not be a great leader, but he was one helluva drill instructor.

  Quinn stood up fast, letting his chair clatter to the floor. “Ten-hut!”

  It would have been amusing to watch the former soldiers in the group snap to automatic attention if he wasn’t so pissed. Once a soldier, always a soldier.

  Marcus, the fucking fed, just crossed his arms and scowled. “You military dudes really say that?”

  “Yeah. Really. And if you guys have enough energy to bitch at each other like a bunch of nagging housewives, you have enough for some PT training. On the deck. Now!”

  To Quinn’s complete surprise, the first to drop was Ian. The rest followed in grumbling succession—Marcus with a roll of the eyes—until only Jesse was standing and Harvard still sat at his computer.

  Jesse said, “This is bullshit.”

  “On the deck.”

  “Screw you.”

  “You’re not my type. Drop, Warrick.”

  Jesse leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Make. Me.”

  In a quick succession of moves, Quinn snapped Jesse’s Stetson off his head, slugged him in the solar plexus, the gut, and the side, bending him double, then elbowed him between the shoulder blades. Jesse went down to his hands and knees, gagging. Another blow to his lower back sent him sprawling on his face.

  “Jesus Christ,” someone whispered in awe.

  Quinn straightened, tossed the Stetson in front of Jesse, and looked around at the men lying flat on their bellies like an angler’s catch of the day. “Don’t fuck with me, guys. Since this isn’t the military, I don’t have to play nice anymore, and I’m done with you assholes jerking me around. From now on, listen to me and do what I say without question or you’ll all get to know the deck as personally as Warrick just did. Got it?”

  A round of muttered yeses.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.” It came in succinct unison this time.

  “All right. One-hundred push-ups. Now. You stop, you falter, you start over. Go!” Quinn pinned Harvard, who was still at his computer, with a hard look. “You, too.”

  Swallowing hard, Harvard dropped out of his chair like a rock.

  Satisfied, Quinn righted his own chair and sat down, planted his feet on the table, and snagged Harvard’s laptop. He wasn’t as good at research as their resident genius, but he had sources that needed checking. He began a search for Jacinto Rivera’s current whereabouts while the guys called out each push-up in resounding unison.

  One. Two. Three.

  Like ticking off seconds on the clock.

  Jesus.

  …

  A knock on the bedroom’s door jolted Gabe out of a dead sleep. He launched from the
bed and reached for his firearm, only to realize he was buck ass naked. Evening spilled vibrant colors into the room and tortured his pounding skull as the sun sank over the peaceful slice of ocean outside the windows. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

  The knock sounded again, impatiently this time, and Audrey sat up with a gasp, her hair a wild cloud around her pale face. “What’s that?”

  Gabe scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to rub away the fog of sleepy disorientation, and found his jeans on the floor. “It’s okay. Probably a butler with the proper attire Mena mentioned.”

  Sore and stiff from the beating he took that morning, followed by the fantastic way he’d spent the afternoon, he stuffed his legs into the jeans and crossed the room while buttoning the fly. He glanced back at Audrey to see her wiping her eyes like a drowsy child—but she sure as hell didn’t look childlike with her small breasts bare, pale peach nipples perky in the air-conditioned coolness of the room.

  Yeah, he definitely didn’t want whoever was now pounding on the door to see her like that. “Cover up, Audrey.”

  “Huh?” She yawned, then looked down at herself. “Oh!” She scrambled for the sheet and clenched it to her lovely breasts. He liked the flush that climbed up her chest into her cheeks. It reminded him of how she looked when turned on, when he was moving deep inside her.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to crawl back into bed with her and forget everything again?

  He sighed, turned the doorknob, and found Liam Miller with his fist raised in mid-pound.

  “Liam,” Gabe said and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, to block his view of the bedroom. “Still got a temper on ya, I see.”

  Liam’s upper lip curled. “Gabe Bristow. Imagine my surprise when my men dragged you unconscious from that poppy field. Lost your edge, I see.”

  Gabe eyed the garment bags Liam carried. “And you, playing butler for the scum of the earth. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  “I go where the money is. As a mercenary now, it’s something you’ll learn fast.” He gave a bitter laugh and shoved the garments toward Gabe. “The infamous Commander Bristow, a mercenary. It still tickles my funny bone to say it. My, how the mighty do fall.”