SEAL’s Command by Makenna Jameison
Chapter 7
Slate carried both their mugs to the table, his gaze intent on Ashleigh. Her damp hair was drying, and she’d put on another soft sweater today. It hugged her gorgeous curves, and he forced himself to concentrate on her face. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring, but the woman was gorgeous.
He’d been so focused on warming her up last night, he’d barely noticed when he’d stripped off her clothes. And when she finally was warm enough to relax against him, she’d fallen asleep. He’d loved feeling her soft body pressed up against his, holding her in his arms, but he’d carried her to the sofa then. He had no right touching her soft curves or caressing all that smooth skin. He’d done what was needed to stop the shudders wracking through her small body and then avoided temptation by retreating to his own room.
She was safe, and that was all that mattered. The fact that his cock had hardened painfully as she’d nestled against him was irrelevant. And just because her soft floral scent was even stronger now that her hair was damp didn’t mean he’d be making a move over breakfast. Or ever.
“Are you sure that you’ll be all right here if I’m gone for a few hours?” he asked again.
Ashleigh laughed, the sound doing something funny to his insides. “I was planning to be here alone all weekend, remember? I think I can handle a few hours on my own.”
He smirked. “Touché. But you weren’t exactly injured when you arrived.”
Her cheeks heated prettily, and he watched as she took a sip of her coffee. “I wasn’t, but I just twisted my ankle. I’m going to sit with my laptop on the sofa, not ski down the black diamond slopes or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
He nodded, unable to tell if she was downplaying her injury or not. He’d keep a close eye on her today and make sure she didn’t do anything risky to injure it further. Except he wouldn’t be here, because he was planning to be out hunting.
Damn.
What had sounded so appealing when he flew up to Washington was already less so. He’d been looking forward to a weekend outdoors, but spending time alone in a small cabin with a beautiful woman wasn’t exactly a hardship. He couldn’t sit around all day watching her though. They both had things to get done. And Ashleigh wasn’t his.
“How are the roads?” she asked.
“Iced over, as far as I can tell. I’ll check on things when I go out.”
She sipped her coffee, and he shifted his gaze to the window and the trees outside. Even though he’d rented a Jeep, they were essentially snowed in at the moment. The ice on the mountain roads would be treacherous until the sun melted some of it and the plows came through.
“So what do you hunt with?” she asked. “Guns?”
Slate’s lips quirked. “Jett keeps hunting rifles here. They’re locked up, but I’ll take one with me when I go out.”
She nodded, looking slightly uncertain.
“You’re safe,” Slate assured her. “I’m a commander in the Navy and know how to handle a weapon.”
“Of course. I’m just not used to guns, rifles, hunting—any of it.”
“You came here to write,” he said, his chest warming as she flushed. In some ways, Ashleigh seemed so damn innocent. What would it be like kissing a woman like her? She might be independent and successful in her writing career, but the way she always blushed around him made Slate wonder if she’d be shy and submissive in bed. Wouldn’t he love to spend the day in the cabin making love to her for hours, moving her gorgeous body into different positions, and hearing her cry out his name again and again.
He wanted his hands and lips everywhere, all over that satiny skin. And that sure as shit wouldn’t ever happen. He’d have to give Jett hell for even sending her here. Ashleigh was far too tempting. Slate needed a woman like her? Hell no. He was fine by himself.
“I’ll make dinner tonight,” Slate said as he stood from the table, carrying his empty plate and coffee mug to the sink.
“I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”
He grunted, moving toward the fridge. He opened the door and then closed it. Maybe he’d just bring an MRE with him in case he got hungry while he was out hunting. With that and some water, he’d be fine. She could have leftovers for lunch. As for what he planned to make for dinner? That was a damn good question, but he’d worry about it later. “I better gather up my hunting gear and head out.”
Although she looked a bit surprised at the abrupt end of their breakfast together, Slate couldn’t linger at the cabin with her. There was no point in thinking about things he’d never have. He frowned as his phone buzzed. Pulling it from his pocket, he saw that one of the officers on base was calling him. “This is Striker.”
“It’s Commander Williams. There’s been an issue with one of the teams. Havoc got into a bar fight last night.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Slate barked out. “Was he arrested?”
“Negative. It turns out that the guy he assaulted was wanted by the FBI though, not to mention part of an active, ongoing Navy investigation. He’s part of a domestic terror group that’s been threatening U.S. military installations.”
“Jesus Christ,” Slate muttered. “Havoc got into it with someone from the group being monitored?”
“Affirmative. The homegrown terror cell might’ve intentionally been scoping out that bar since it’s popular with servicemembers. Now Havoc’s on desk duty for two weeks.”
“Which means that Ace’s team is out,” Slate muttered, clenching his fist. “Are there any ops looming?”
Owen “Havoc” O’Donnell was on one of the younger SEAL teams on base. Their team leader Everett “Ace” Walker was a skilled Navy SEAL and computer expert. Ace was hardworking and dependable, but some of the other men gave him grief. They might be good SEALs but could be impulsive and reckless in their personal lives. If Havoc was temporarily barred from ops, the entire team would be down. Although Slate could send Raptor’s team out, having an entire team benched was not what he needed. Especially for something as stupid as a damn bar fight.
“Affirmative,” Williams said. “Raptor and his team are going wheels up at oh-five-hundred tomorrow for another matter, but that’s not why I’m calling. During the arrest, your name got tossed out there as well.”
Slate frowned. “God damn it. That’s not exactly what I need, but plenty of people don’t like me. I’ve got a list of enemies a mile long. Most have been captured or killed by the U.S. military.”
“The FBI was getting ready to raid a warehouse the terror cell had been working out of sometime this week. We already knew about the threats to U.S. military installations, which was the focus of the Navy investigation. The FBI received credible threats that several large U.S. businesses were targets as well. This group might even be tied to the yacht hijacking several months ago at the admiral’s anniversary party.”
“What the hell happened at the bar?”
“Havoc saw a guy groping a woman, and he laid into the asshole. The guy ended up being arrested on assault charges plus charges brought forth by the Justice Department. He’s sitting in jail as we speak, but the team had to identify themselves to the police and give statements. The guy that was arrested overheard that you were their commanding officer. He threatened Havoc and the FBI agent, but when he got your name, he ordered a hit on you.”
Slate stiffened. “Jesus Christ. Who the hell did he give my name to?”
“Someone else in the terror cell. I don’t have an ID on him yet. Some of the men at the bar scattered, but several of your team’s names are out there now. He was pissed at Havoc after the fight but seemed most intent on harming a military officer. He was ranting about U.S. involvement in Afghanistan.”
“What about the threats to the military installations and civilian sites?”
“Still potential targets, but the Feds raided the warehouse early when everything went down. It sounds like those ops might’ve been blown with the raid. At least thirty men were taken into custody, their computers and other equipment confiscated.”
“Which means the men still free might damn well come after individuals instead. What a clusterfuck. Did you tell Havoc to watch his six?”
“Affirmative. And there’s a high probability they’ll come after you. Some of the men who escaped during the raid are out for blood. They’re pissed as hell that the entire operation was blown. I told Havoc to lay low for a while aside from reporting to base for duty. I wanted to give you a head’s up.”
Slate muttered a curse. He could handle himself, but it’s not like he was at the cabin alone. Ashleigh was here. He worked and lived in San Diego, though. No one would come up to Washington in the next day or two looking for him in a remote cabin. Even if the threat toward Havoc, the FBI agents, and him was legitimate, he was hundreds of miles away. They’d have no reason to track him here.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“They might be waiting when you return. I’ll get the full report from the Bureau, but as you and I both know, homegrown terrorists would love to take out Federal agents and military members alike. With a target on your back, you need to be careful.”
“Understood,” Slate ground out. “Thanks for the intel. I’ll deal with Havoc when I get back.”
“Roger that.”
Slate ended the call, noticing Ashleigh looking at him in concern. This was exactly why he didn’t do relationships anymore. Work took precedence over everything. The Navy demanded all his attention whether he was actively running ops or not. It wasn’t the first time some lowlife had threatened him, and it sure the hell wouldn’t be the last.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. Her green eyes were wide as she looked at him.
“There was a complication with one of my men. Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ll have to handle my team when I return to San Diego, but it won’t affect anything here.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“What?”
“Are we in danger? What about the whole ‘I’ve got a list of enemies a mile long’ thing you just said?”
Slate muttered a curse. Of course she heard that. “You’re not in any danger. I do have enemies thanks to my career as a SEAL and the teams I command now. We’ve tracked down dangerous men all over the world—terrorists, drug cartel leaders, heads of sex-trafficking operations. It’s a long list spanning decades. I’ve served my country for twenty-five years and won’t let some lowlife threaten me.”
“And you’re really not worried?”
“I’m not. No one knows I’m here aside from my men. If anything, I’ll have to be vigilant when I return until this blows over. You’re safe here with me. Finish your coffee. Relax, write, do whatever you need to today. I’m going to get my gear and grab Jett’s hunting rifle. I came up here for a weekend hunting, and that’s what I intend to do. I’ll have my cell phone if anything urgent arises.”
“I don’t even know your number,” she pointed out.
“Damn. You’re right. Tell me your number, and I’ll text you right now. I can’t promise I’ll have good reception deep in the woods, but the weather has cleared. You should have a signal in case there’s an emergency. I’ll talk to Jett about getting a landline up here. I know you just came for the weekend, but if he’s planning to bring his family here, it would make sense to have one.”
“All right. That won’t exactly help right now.”
“It won’t,” he agreed. “You don’t have anything to worry about though. I’ll be out hunting for several hours. I’m not expecting anyone, but don’t answer the door, just in case.”
Her mouth opened slightly as she looked at him in surprise, but she quickly recovered. “Okay. I won’t open the door.” She swallowed once.
Hell.
He didn’t want to frighten her. The chances were extremely low that anyone would ever look for him up here. Even if the jackass threatening him had tried to look up his information, the cabin wouldn’t be listed. It was Jett’s. His own home would be more of a concern if they looked up his name. He had a security system at his house that he could monitor remotely though. The Navy base was of course secure. Slate was always aware of his surroundings. It was engrained in him as a SEAL. He could lose a tail, defend himself against multiple armed men—even kill someone with his bare hands. He didn’t like seeing Ashleigh looking slightly paler than she had earlier though. She was small and injured at that.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone if I thought you were in any danger,” he assured her, his voice gentle. “Without going into too much detail, one of my men was involved in a bar fight last night. The other guy was arrested and somehow my name got tossed out there.”
“What? Why?”
He lifted a shoulder. “The men had to identify themselves when the police came, and I’m their commanding officer. Havoc wasn’t arrested—”
“Havoc?” she asked, cutting him off.
“Every guy has a nickname. And believe me, Owen lives up to his,” he muttered. “Another commander from base was calling to brief me on the situation. The man arrested threatened me after my name was mentioned.”
“Wow. That’s kind of scary. Why didn’t he threaten that Havoc guy?”
“He did. I’ll get briefed on it more when I return. Another officer gave me a head’s up on the situation, but don’t worry. I can handle myself.”
“Right. I’m sure you can. So, what’s your name? Nickname,” she clarified.
“Striker,” he said with a grin. Why Ashleigh’s questions fascinated him so much, he didn’t want to examine too closely. She was just so damn cute. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. She might not be in any danger, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t end any man who wished her harm.
Briefly, he wondered if she’d dated much back home. She’d said her engagement had ended, but he didn’t know how long ago that had been. Had she been with a handful of lovers? Was it only the one man? His jaw clenched. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching her or kissing her. Caressing those sexy curves.
He wanted her. It was as simple and complicated as that.
“What’s your cell number?” he asked. She recited it as Slate thumbed a text and then looked up at her again. “Where’s your phone?”
“Back in my bedroom.”
He nodded. “I just sent you a text so you’ll have my number. I’ll grab your phone and whatever else you need before I head out. I’ve got some ibuprofen with me if you need to take something again for your ankle.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind it, thanks. I took some earlier but don’t have much with me. It should help reduce the swelling.”
She stood up from the table, readying to carry her plate to the sink, and Slate cursed. He couldn’t leave her here hobbling around in the kitchen.
“Sit,” he admonished, crossing the room toward her.
Her mouth dropped open slightly but then she smiled as she saw he was clearing her place. “Are you always so bossy?”
“Yes.”
She laughed, the light sound of it doing something funny to his heart. Christ. He needed to get her situated and get the hell out of here, ASAP. A minute later, he was back in the kitchen, setting her phone, laptop, and the ibuprofen down on the table. He grabbed a bottle of water, looking at her intensely for a moment. The air felt thick between them, but Slate looked out the window, breaking their connection.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. Call or text if you need something.”
Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen before he did something he’d regret.