Navy SEAL Security

“Riley.” The name rolled off her tongue. Riley didn’t seem too concerned about the cops knowing his name. Did he think just because he had a friendly, non-threatening demeanor and a gorgeous body she wasn’t going to report this?

Even though Amy had an innate distrust of authority, Riley had placed his confidence in the wrong woman. She’d had it in for all men since she’d discovered the guy she’d been dating for two months had a wife. Scumbag.

She rounded the corner of her block and pulled up to the curb in front of her rental house. She cut the engine and dropped her hands in her lap. “You can get out now. Although how you think you’re going to be inconspicuous roaming around in a full-body wet suit is beyond me.”

“Thanks for caring.” A boyish grin claimed his face. “I have trunks on underneath—just another surfer.”

“Just another surfer carrying a knife.”

She shouldn’t have reminded him.

His fingers curled around the handle and he said, “Let’s go inside to make sure everything’s okay.”

Tension knotted her shoulders again as she climbed out of the car, groping for her backpack in the backseat. She wouldn’t be able to breathe easily until Riley left the premises and she had 911 on the line.

It took her three tries to insert her key into the dead bolt with Riley standing behind her, the heat from his body warming her bare back. And then she didn’t even need to unlock the dead bolt—she must’ve left it unlocked when she took off this afternoon. She shoved the key into the handle, turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Riley stepped in front of her, tucking her behind his broad frame. “Everything look okay?”

“How can I tell? I’m staring at your back.” Her nose practically touched the cool, smooth skin between his shoulder blades.

Riley stalked to the center of the small living room, dwarfing it with his take-control presence. Amy shifted her gaze around the objects of the room, her pulse quickening when she spotted a book on the floor by the coffee table. Her cat, Clarence, probably knocked that over before he took off for his pre-dinner prowl.

“I’m going to have a look in the back rooms.” Riley pointed to the short hallway, gripping the knife in front of him.

Amy crept toward the book and crouched to retrieve it from the floor. She glanced toward the entry that led to the kitchen and then tilted her head back to peer at Riley disappearing into the bathroom, knife still drawn.

She could make a run for the portable phone in the kitchen and slip out the back, maybe bang on her neighbor’s door for help. Riley would probably take off, and she’d be safe.

Launching to her feet, she hurtled toward the kitchen. Just inside the entryway, she tripped over a soft object splayed across the floor. Yelping, she thudded against the linoleum. She scrambled to her hands and knees and spun around.

A sour knot of fear lodged in her throat as her gaze skidded across the deathly still form of her ex-boyfriend.

Chapter Two

A shriek sliced through the small house, and Riley barreled out the bathroom door, stubbing his toe on the frame. He gripped the knife at his side, ready to do battle. Careening through the empty living room, he launched toward the entryway to what had to be the kitchen. He stopped short, almost falling into the room and over a body on the floor.

Amy huddled against the cabinets, her hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes forming huge, coffee-colored saucers. A man sprawled across the faded yellow linoleum on his back, one perfectly shined loafer hanging from his toes, and his legs in pressed slacks crossed one over the other. Looked like he could be taking a nap on the kitchen floor.

Riley squatted beside the man, noting a red blotch on his right cheek, and extended two fingers toward his neck to check his pulse.

Amy screamed, “Don’t touch him.”

God, he must’ve been a friend or relative of Amy’s. Boyfriend? His gaze flew to her face, drained of all color beneath her mocha skin. “Who is he?”

“Carlos…my ex-boyfriend.” She mumbled through her fingers, which seemed frozen in place.

Very ex-boyfriend from the look of him. Riley stepped over the body and kneeled beside Amy. “We need to get out of here.”

“What happened to him?”

“I can’t tell. I don’t see any blood, just a contusion on his face. Maybe someone strangled him or hit him on the back of the head.” He turned back toward the body. “I can turn him…”

“No.” She sobbed, curling into a tight ball. “We need to call the police.”

“You don’t get it, Amy. Somehow those guys in the boat tracked you down to your house. Carlos must’ve surprised them. They probably came at him from behind and strangled him or hit him. Carlos’s presence spooked them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

“That’s why we call the police.” She scooted to her left to avoid Carlos’s outstretched hand.

Riley rubbed his chin with his knuckles. He was flying so far below the radar of the police right now he couldn’t afford to have them question him at a murder scene. Hell, he was flying below the radar of the CIA.

“The police can’t protect you.” He left the rest of that statement hanging in the air between them. Only he could protect her now, and he didn’t need the en cumbrance.

Surprisingly, she didn’t dispute his claim.

“Who are these people? Who are you?”

“The less you know, the better.” Not that he knew much himself. When the call had come from Colonel Scripps, the former leader of the undercover ops unit, Prospero, Riley had jumped into action. Jack Coburn, one of their own, had disappeared.

Riley would go through hell and back to find him.

He cupped his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, beach girl. Let’s go.”

Amy’s gaze traveled from his hand to his face. She must’ve seen something she liked because she sighed and pushed to her feet. He helped her over the body of her ex-boyfriend. Feeling a tremble roll through her athletic frame, Riley pulled her close and folded his arms around her.

She stiffened in his embrace and then buried her face against his bare chest as sobs wracked her body. He stroked her dark hair, clumped in wet tangles of salt water.

Rubbing her nose, she stepped back from him and pinched her swimsuit between two fingers, yanking it forward. “Do I have time to change, or…or do you think we should get out now?”

“I don’t think they’ll be returning to the scene of the crime immediately.” Riley crossed the room and lifted the curtains of the front window with the tip of his knife. He’d prefer a gun, but he couldn’t have taken one of those with him. “They might be out there now, watching, waiting, wondering if we’ll call the police.”

She called from the bedroom. “I’m wondering the same thing. We can’t just leave him there on the kitchen floor. H-he has a wife.”

Riley swallowed. The beach girl liked married men? He cleared his throat. “We’ll call the police as soon as we’re out of here.”

“Wait a minute.” She stumbled from the bedroom in a pair of jeans, pulling a T-shirt over her head. He caught a glimpse of a lacy white bra. “Won’t that look suspicious? There’s a dead man in my house, and I’m not even here.”

“I’ll clear things up for you later. You’re not safe in this house.”

Her eyes narrowed as she hooked a finger along the gold chain around her neck, pulling a large locket out of her T-shirt. “You’re not safe in this house. For whatever reason, you don’t want the cops to find out about your activities. And why would you? You murdered a man on the beach and you kidnapped me.”

Frustration gave an edge to his voice as he jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. “I didn’t murder him. Don’t you get it? They discovered your identity and came after you.”

“They came after you.” She hugged herself and rubbed her upper arms. “They probably figured you used me to escape. That’s why they came to this house and killed Carlos. Once you get away from me, I’ll be safe.”

Too bad his wife hadn’t figured that one out.

Pain sliced behind his eyes, and he ran a hand over his hair, clasping it in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “You’re in it, Amy, whether you want to be or not. These people don’t leave loose ends.”

“I’m not a loose end.” She widened her stance and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I didn’t see those people. I don’t know who they are. But I know who you are.”

Damn. She didn’t trust him. And why would she? He didn’t trust himself to protect her either.

He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Could he leave her here? He’d take off for his safe house, and she could stay here and call the cops. She’d tell her wild story of one scuba diver killing another and people shooting at them from a boat. But there would be no body. There would be no blood. No bullets. No evidence at all.

The Velasquez Drug Cartel didn’t leave evidence. Or witnesses.

Even if the cops believed Amy’s fantastic story, they couldn’t do much to protect her. If the Velasquez gang decided to kill her, the cops couldn’t stop them.

Or maybe he’d overreacted from the get-go. From the minute she’d valiantly pulled his enemy’s body from the ocean, Riley had felt protective of her. She’d only been doing her job and had landed in the middle of an international intrigue.

If he distanced himself from her now, it just might save her life. He was dangerous company.

“Okay.” Riley blew out a long breath. “I’ll stay with you until the cops arrive, and then I’ll head out the back door.”

“Really?” Her voice squeaked and her eyebrows shot up.

“Really.” He tugged at the wet suit around his waist and peeled it off his body, standing on one foot at a time to free his legs from the constricting neoprene. “What are you going to tell the police?”

Her gaze raked his body as her chest rose and fell. “The truth.”

“The guys on the boat will have removed the body of their comrade and my scuba gear from the beach by now.” He nudged the wet suit lying in a twisted heap on the carpet. “I can leave this here if you think it will bolster your story.”

“Why would I need to bolster my story?” She dragged her gaze from his wet trunks, meeting his eyes, a pleasing shade of pink washing over her cheeks.

The beach girl had been checking him out. And he liked it.

Riley’s fingers plowed through his long hair. “You plan to report a murder on the beach with no body. Your ex-boyfriend is dead on your kitchen floor with no signs of a struggle or break-in. Why is he your ex? Bad breakup?”

“No. Yes.” She folded her arms across her stomach. “He lied to me about being married.”

Riley whistled through his teeth. “Do you have a history of violence?”

“Not yet.” Amy clenched her fists and took a step toward him.

“I’m just sayin’.” A strange sense of relief flooded his veins. He knew a valiant woman like Amy wouldn’t knowingly get mixed up with a married man.

“Do you think they’ll suspect me of murdering Carlos? I’m pretty strong, but not strong enough to strangle a man. I broke it off as soon as I discovered his marital status. Why would I kill him and then call the cops? It would look much worse if I ran out now, wouldn’t it?”

She covered her face with her hands, and guilt stabbed his belly. He didn’t want her to feel worse. He wanted to smooth everything over and make sure she kept safe after he left.

He tripped over the wet suit as he rushed to her side and curled an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. Her T-shirt felt soft against his bare chest, brushing a tingle of desire along his skin.

Her salty hair tickled his lips as he spoke. “Just tell the truth. You’ll be fine. There’s no evidence that you killed Carlos even if the police find your story unbelievable.”

“C-can’t you stay and talk to the cops with me?” She clutched his arm, her nails digging into his skin.

“I wish I could help you out, beach girl, but I can’t afford the time if they decide to arrest me.” He couldn’t afford the exposure either. Having his picture splashed all over the newspapers in connection with two murders would torpedo any chance he’d have to follow his lead on the Velasquez Cartel and any of its customers.

And right now the Velasquez lead was the only thread they had in connection with Jack Coburn’s disappearance.

Amy took a shaky breath and stepped back. “You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?”

“No.”

“Then you’d better get ready to leave so I can call 911. I can’t bear to be here with Carlos like that.” Her bottom lip quivered, and her dark eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

Riley cupped her face with one hand, smoothing the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. “I’m sorry about Carlos. What do you think he was doing here?”

At his touch, she’d closed her eyes, but now her eyelids flew open, droplets of tears trembling on the edges of her long lashes. “Huh?”

“Carlos. Why was he in your house and how did he get in? Did you give him a key?”

“I gave him a key once to feed my cat when I was gone for the weekend. But he gave it back to me.”

“He made a copy.”

Her eyes widened. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Really? The man entered your home while you were at work. I thought you broke up with him a few months ago?”

“I did.” She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans.

“Did he contact you after the breakup?”

“A few times but…” Her arms flailed at her sides.

“Face it, Amy. The guy never got over you. He probably came here hoping he could change your mind. Didn’t work out too well for him.”

She dug her fists in her hips. “The back door is in the kitchen. You can leave before the cops get here.”

“If he made a copy of your key, it’s probably still in his pocket. Do you want me to take it?”

“So you can have a key to my place? No, thanks. Why would I want you to take the key? I don’t want to disturb a crime scene.”

“Too late for that. You changed clothing and you didn’t notify the police as soon as you discovered the body.” He shrugged. “I’m just thinking it might look better for you if the dead ex-boyfriend didn’t still have a key to your house.”

“Okay. You know what?” She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the kitchen. “There’s the back door. Use it.”

Instead he crouched next to the body and slid his hand into the front pocket of the man’s expensive slacks. His nostrils flared at the sweet scent emanating from his clothing. Carlos liked his cologne strong.

Nothing in that pocket except a few bills. Riley reached for the other pocket, but he didn’t have to go digging. Carlos’s keychain was on the floor by the pocket. Riley’s fingers closed around the silver ring and he dangled it from his index finger.

“Is this your key?” A removable ring was hanging from the main keychain, and he shook it in front of Amy’s face.

“It could be. What difference does it make? Now you’ve corrupted the crime scene even more. Put it back and get out, and maybe you should leave some more of your fingerprints around here so the cops can identify you… Riley…if that’s even your name.”

“I didn’t touch anything in here.” He twirled the keychain around his finger. “Except you.”

Amy’s eyes glittered, shooting gold sparks, but a soft rose color swept across her cheeks. Stepping behind him to avoid the body on the floor, she grabbed the knob to the back door. She turned quickly, her hair whipping across his chest. “What will you do for clothes?”

Still clutching the keychain, Riley adjusted the waistband of his board shorts while her gaze tracked his movements feeling like a whisper of fingertips. “We’re a mile from the beach—nothing unusual about someone walking around in swim trunks. If you give me a couple of bucks for the bus, that would make my life a lot easier.”

“Gladly.” She slipped past him and snagged her backpack from the coffee table where she’d dropped it. She groped inside a side compartment and gasped. “My wallet.”

“It’s gone?”

“It must’ve fallen out in the sand when I grabbed my pack from the tower.”

“That explains how the bad guys found you.”

“But how’d they get here so fast?” She hugged the backpack to her chest.

“The men who killed Carlos aren’t the same men who shot at us on the beach. This is an organization, not a few petty crooks.”

She swayed and he caught her. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out of here with me?” Riley asked.

“No. I want to call the police. Th-they’ll keep me safe.”

Even she didn’t sound like she believed that. If Amy expected the San Diego Sheriff’s Department to put a twenty-four-hour guard on her, she didn’t understand how police departments operated. That would happen only if they arrested her for the murder of her ex.

Riley could protect her. He knew the danger she faced, but he couldn’t drag her out of her house if she didn’t want to go. And she clearly didn’t want to go.

He brushed her knotted hair from her face. “Okay, beach girl. You call the cops and stay safe.”

“Hold on.” She spun around and rummaged through a purse on the desk by the front window. She withdrew her hand, clutching several bills between her fingers. “Take this. And you stay safe, too.”

His hand covered hers and he drew her close. She smelled like the sea, tangy and fresh. He had bent his head to brush her lips with his when a movement outside the window caught his attention.

With a grunt, Riley threw both of his arms around Amy. As they tumbled to the floor, she opened her mouth to scream. He clapped his hand across her lips for the second time that day.

Chapter Three

He’d fooled her. He planned to kill her and had just been stringing her along for his sadistic pleasure.

She was batting a thousand—a married man and now a killer.

Riley brushed her ear with a whisper. “They’re outside.”

His words sent a river of chills down her spine, and she reflexively dug her nails into his back.

“Stay low.” Riley heaved to a crouching position and tugged at the waistband of her jeans. “Let’s go out the back.”

Amy slid across the floor on her belly, twisting her head toward the front window. Adrenaline charged through her body when she saw the outline of a gun.

She wriggled faster, like a snake shedding its skin. When she reached the kitchen, she gagged at the sight of Carlos on the floor.

Riley rose to his haunches. “Get the back door.”

Turning the knob, she eased open the door, scooping in deep breaths of fresh air. Riley bumped her outside and told her to close the door behind them. He really didn’t want to leave any fingerprints in her house.

She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the small backyard. “This way.”

They dashed across the lawn, the wet grass sticking to her feet in their flimsy flip-flops. Riley cinched her around the waist and hoisted her up the fence. She clambered over and fell into her neighbor’s yard. Riley swooped over the fence after her.

“Let’s keep running and hope we don’t meet a dog.”

She yanked on the hem of his board shorts. “Do you still have those keys you took out of Carlos’s pocket?”

He patted his own pocket. “Yep.”

“He used to park his car on the side street. We can get to it from here without going to the front of the house.”

“You’re brilliant, beach girl.” He grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her forehead.

Not exactly the kiss she’d anticipated in the house, but it would do—for now.

They crouched at the side of the house behind hers, then charged through the gate, stumbling into her neighbor’s front yard.

“This street.” She pointed to the left and they hit the sidewalk running. Two kids playing basketball with a garage hoop looked up and snickered as they jogged by.

They reached the corner and Riley held her back. “Hang on.”

He peered both ways down the street. “It’s clear. Which car is his?”

She pointed to Carlos’s black BMW parked at the curb. When they’d dated, she’d always wondered why he’d preferred to park his car on the street around the corner from her house. He’d told her there was less traffic on this street, and he’d wanted to protect his car. He’d really wanted to protect himself.

Guess that hadn’t worked out for him today.

“On the count of three, sprint for the car.” Riley held up the keys. “I won’t hit the remote until we get there…just in case they’re closer than we think.”

Amy kicked off her flip-flops and scooped them up from the sidewalk with one hand. Holding her breath, she waited for Riley’s signal. At three, she shot off as if she was heading into the ocean for a rescue.

The car alarm beeped once, and she grabbed the handle and dropped onto the leather seat. Before she closed the door, the car lurched forward and Riley careened around the corner. Panting, Amy twisted in her seat. No headlights followed them.

She snapped on her seat belt and leaned against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Where to?”

“I can drop you off at the police station or at least down the block from the police station. Then you can report everything, and they’ll come back to the house with you. Those men won’t try anything with the cops there.”

She stuffed her feet into her flip-flops. “What about when the cops leave?”

“Can you stay with someone for a few days until this blows over? Chances are once Carlos’s killers realize you don’t know anything, and you keep your distance from me, they’ll leave you alone.”

“Chances are?” She gripped the edge of the seat, her damp hands slipping off the leather.

“Those boys have bigger fish to fry to risk going after a witness who may or may not even be a witness.”

“All right then. Take me to the police station.” She knotted her fingers in her lap. “What should I tell them…about you, I mean?”

His boyish grin danced across his face. “Tell them the truth. I have a feeling nothing-but will do for you.”

“I’ll tell them you saved my life…twice.”

He cocked his head. “Are you always so loyal?”

“I don’t know about that. If you’re telling me the truth, you don’t need to be locked up in a jail cell while the cops try to figure out your involvement and degree of culpability. Sometimes the cops aren’t too particular.”

He squeezed her clenched hands with a firm grasp. “Don’t worry about me, beach girl. The cops aren’t going to find me.”

She glanced at his large hand, brown from the sun, his calluses rough against her skin. “What are you, Riley?”

“I told you before, the less you know, the better. This way you don’t have to lie to the cops.”

She snorted. “I don’t mind lying to the cops if there’s a good reason. Where will you go after you drop me off? You’re not finished with those men, are you?”

His mouth formed a thin line as he fumbled with Carlos’s built-in GPS. Amy sighed. She’d never know anything more about him than his name—and how his body felt against hers, shielding her, protecting her.

“There’s a police station pretty close. I’ll drop you off down the block, watch you go inside, and then I’ll be out of your life.”

She swallowed. “What are you going to do with Carlos’s car?”

“I’ll leave it someplace where it can be recovered and returned to his…wife.” He raised one eyebrow. “How’d that happen anyway?”

Hunching her shoulders, Amy clasped her hands between her knees. “I met him at the beach while I was working. We went out a few times from there. He came to my place a few times…”

She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to waste her last few minutes with Riley talking about her train wreck of a love life. “You know, I never thanked you for saving me on the beach. And if you hadn’t come back with me to my house, that man outside with the gun could’ve killed me.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He brushed his fingers along her arm. “I put you in danger by landing on your beach.”