SEAL’s Command by Makenna Jameison
Chapter 8
“Ouch,” Ashleigh said with a wince, adjusting her injured ankle on the sofa later that afternoon. She grabbed two more ibuprofen and took a swig from her bottle of water. Although she’d started working in the kitchen, she’d eventually come out here to put up her leg and stretch out. She shifted her laptop, glancing down at the words on the screen. Although she’d gotten a decent amount done today, the cabin felt quiet. Too quiet.
It was somewhat ironic since Slate’s presence yesterday had felt rather stifling at first. He was a big guy. Muscular. Broad. Confident and self-assured. He filled up the room with his large frame and take-charge personality, and it was like she was inexplicably drawn to him. She’d intended to have a weekend alone, so it shouldn’t matter that she had the cabin to herself. She’d wanted peace and quiet, hadn’t she?
It was a little surprising that she found herself attracted to him. His personality was a complete one-eighty from her ex-fiancé’s. Jeff had been distant and aloof. Although they went on dates and out with friends, they lived busy, separate lives. He wasn’t observant the way Slate was, and he’d certainly never tended to her when she was injured or sick.
Slate saw everything. She supposed he was trained to be observant, given his career as a SEAL. Warmth rose within her remembering him wrapping her ankle this morning in a bandage.
Knowing he’d be back any minute was…distracting. She didn’t really know anyone who hunted, and she had to admit it was somewhat appealing knowing that Slate could take care of himself. Obviously, he could handle weapons. Fight off the bad guys. He commanded SEAL teams for heaven’s sakes and probably coordinated dangerous missions for his men. All she did was write for a living. She was successful but wouldn’t know the first thing to do if she was lost in the woods by herself or even stranded on the side of the road in this weather.
He probably always kept a compass and survival gear in his car. Couldn’t those Special Forces guys build a shelter out of branches or something? She doubted she could put together a tent—even with instructions.
Blowing out a sigh, she glanced down at her cell phone. He’d texted her once, right around lunch time, and she’d assured Slate that she was fine. It was kind of sweet, actually. She knew that he wasn’t used to checking in on someone. Maybe he checked on his teams, but otherwise?
She bit her lip. He just felt obligated because she was friends with his sister-in-law. Otherwise, she’d just be some random woman who’d locked herself out and slipped on the ice.
Deciding to take a break since she was no longer getting any work done, she called Anna.
“Hey sweetie! I guess the storm blew over if you have cell reception to call me. How’d you like your surprise?” Anna teased.
Ashleigh rolled her eyes. “A bottle of wine or box of brownies would’ve been a surprise. But a man who’s a wall of solid muscle? That was quite unexpected—not to mention unnecessary.”
“So, I take it you two haven’t done the nasty yet?”
Ashleigh sputtered, practically choking on the water she was drinking.
“What? The boys are right here,” Anna said. “They repeat everything I say, so I have to be careful. And I’m still on bedrest, so it’s not like I can easily move to another room or lock myself in the bathroom or something.”
“You do that?”
Anna burst into laughter. “Weren’t you just with your niece and nephew this week? Never mind. You have no idea. I mean, I’m not complaining—well, maybe a little.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned. “You are impossible.”
Shrieks filled the background, and Ashleigh couldn’t help but smirk. Her friend might’ve tried to set her up without her knowledge, but at least Ashleigh could relax here at the cabin. Anna was juggling a house full of young boys and a difficult pregnancy. And honestly, Ashleigh really couldn’t imagine being responsible for tiny humans 24/7.
“So, have you been able to get some writing done? Or is Slate keeping you busy? Although Jett and I wanted you two to meet, I think Slate really did want to spend the day hunting. I figured you could work while he was out and then—”
“Then what? It’s not like we’re about to start dating or something. I’m flying home after the weekend. Maybe,” she said, glancing down at her bandaged ankle.
Anna squealed. “Maybe? Tell me you’re staying longer with Slate.”
“I might be staying longer because I twisted my ankle when I slipped on the ice and fell in a huge puddle last night. I’m resting on the sofa right now.”
“Oh my God, are you okay? It was that ditch near the front walk, right? I told Jett we should have it filled in. I’m worried the boys will fall and get hurt.”
“That’s the one,” Ashleigh agreed. “Don’t worry, I took one for the team. I slid on the ice, fell, and since I’d accidentally locked myself out and was already freezing before landing in the cold water, Slate literally stripped me down in front of the fire.”
“What?” Anna shrieked.
“Nothing happened,” Ashleigh pressed. “I was mortified. I was locked out and soaking wet. He hadn’t heard me knocking on the front door but definitely heard me shriek when I fell in the cold water. He had to warm me up because I was shaking so badly. I finally fell asleep, and this morning, my ankle was crazy swollen.”
“Wow. I’m sorry you got locked out and hurt. But holy crap. Did Slate seriously strip you down by the fire?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes, the man did. It was probably the most embarrassing, mortifying moment of my life. I was too cold to even care much at the time, but now? Embarrassed is an understatement. He’s like—perfect, in peak physical condition, not an ounce of fat anywhere, and I’m—”
“Wait! You saw Slate naked?”
“Yes. I mean no! He stripped down, too, to warm me up. He was in his boxers, but holy crap. When that man held me in his arms by the fire? I never wanted kids, but I swear my ovaries almost exploded.”
Anna started laughing so hard, she could barely speak. “Well, that would be a new one—death by exploding ovaries. I agree he’s gorgeous. He’s a little gruff at times, but he’s nice. Basically, a big, soft marshmallow inside.”
“You did not just call that man a marshmallow.”
“Not to his face, no,” she continued, and Ashleigh had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Slate was sweet. She was sure he’d deny it, but the way he’d knelt down in front of her and wrapped her ankle this morning? Never in a million years had she expected a man like him to do that. He was gruff and assertive, yet nothing but careful with her.
And he lived in California and was basically married to his military career.
“Well anyway, hopefully my ankle will be a lot better by tomorrow. I can’t imagine trying to get through the airport dragging my suitcase behind me like this.”
“So when will you see Slate again?”
“I won’t. I’m still trying to figure out why my best friend set me up with a man who lives on the other side of country.”
Anna sighed. “You’re a writer. You can work anywhere. And Slate won’t be in the military forever. Jett’s already trying to convince him to join his company someday. You know they’re all former military. Besides, you need a man in your life. I know your ex-fiancé was the biggest jackass on Earth, but you deserve someone good. You don’t need a boy; you need an actual man. And let’s be honest—Slate is hot as hell.”
“Oh my God,” Ashleigh muttered. “We are not talking about this. And I’m not sleeping with him.”
“I don’t know,” Anna teased. “You say that now, but imagine a roaring fire, some wine, Slate tending to your injuries….”
“Good Lord. All those pregnancy hormones are going to your head.”
“Well trust me, I’m definitely not having sex here. I’m on complete bedrest until this sweet baby arrives, which means I have to live vicariously through you in the meantime.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“You do not. I happen to know you’re basically snowed in. And I know you wouldn’t be going out in the snow even if you hadn’t injured your ankle. You hate cold weather.”
Ashleigh’s gaze tracked to the dying fire. It was still warm in here, thanks to the heat being cranked up. She was nestled under a blanket, cozy and content. Her skin heated as she thought of Slate holding her last night. He was all male, and she had no business thinking of him as anything other than a friend.
“I should get back to my writing before Slate comes home.”
“Sounds good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. You can thank me later!”
Ashleigh said goodbye and hung up, shaking her head. She knew Anna meant well, but honestly. She wasn’t a long-distance relationship type of person. Sure, it was nice Anna had sent them food and wine and whatnot, but goodness. Couldn’t she have tried to set her up with a guy back home? Maybe someone who worked in an office and had a boring but stable job.
Slate filled the room with his presence, making her more aware of a man than she’d ever been before. He was busy with his career though. Even if they lived nearby, he didn’t seem like the type of man interested in dating.
Not that she needed to think about any of that. She was leaving in a few short days. Glancing at her laptop, she decided to get back to work.
***
Slate pulled his cell phone from his pocket, muttering a curse. He’d spent the past hour hauling the deer through the woods back to the cabin and tying it to a tree to hang overnight. He’d made sure to put it around back so Ashleigh didn’t accidentally see it if she came out the front door.
Hell.
A woman like Ashleigh was too damn soft for him.
He hunted. He’d killed men before. It probably wouldn’t surprise her given that he’d been a SEAL. He had no qualms whatsoever about taking out the enemy and having his teammates’ backs. Slate had saved countless innocent lives during his career. He was proud of serving his country and defending those who couldn’t protect themselves. Now he sent his men into harm’s way and had to always stay abreast of multiple situations worldwide.
The cold air bit into his skin as he walked around to the front of the cabin. It was refreshing. He’d needed the blast of mountain air to clear his head. If he admitted it to himself, he actually liked the time alone hunting. He was essentially on call 24/7 back in San Diego, ready to roll into base for the next emergency, brief his teams, and monitor his men’s missions from afar.
Hunting gave him something immediate to do and focus on. There were no briefings to attend, no secure video conferences, no SITREPs. He was completely alone, focused only on the hunt and the woods surrounding him. His sketchy cell reception while deep in the forest had made it next to impossible to check in with his men or even get a news update. Commander Williams was handling the teams. He had time to think about something else for a change.
And as for the woman he’d left inside the cabin?
His thoughts had been glued to her, too.
Starting anything with Ashleigh would indeed be a mistake, but he couldn’t forget how he’d carried her down the hallway this morning or how he’d held her in his arms by the fire last night. He might have no business wanting her, but that didn’t stop the need coursing through him. She didn’t play games like some of the women he’d dated over the years. Not that he knew her well, but damn. He liked that she was independent yet still somehow innocent. While his ex-wife had been rather assertive, Ashleigh was the type of woman he could take care of. Not that she needed that.
His boots crunched over the ice-covered snow as his phone buzzed again, and he lifted it to his ear, his mind snapping back to the present.
“Striker here,” he said into his phone.
“Commander, this is Ace.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong? Is this about Havoc?”
“It’s about the threats made to you, sir. Commander Williams said he spoke with you earlier, but there was an incident on your street this afternoon.”
Slate stilled, his mind spinning in multiple directions. “What kind of incident?” His gaze flicked to the cabin, but it was quiet. Ashleigh was probably inside writing in the cozy living room, and he was standing out here in the cold dealing with Navy business once again. Both cars were parked in the driveway. There were no footprints around other than his own.
“A man was shot. The police think he was accidentally targeted instead of you—a case of mistaken identity. The victim either lived next door or in one of the homes across the street. He was about your height, similar age. We’re waiting on confirmation from the police on his identification. The guy was walking his dog when a man jumped out of a car and shot him.”
“Shit. Is he in the hospital?”
“Yes. He’s expected to fully recover, but the gunman escaped. Witnesses indicated he was shouting your name and demanding the U.S. pay for crimes against Afghanistan.”
Slate muttered a curse. “Did anyone get a description of the guy? What does he look like?”
His thoughts raced. He’d pull up his home surveillance footage as soon as he got off the call. If the man had indeed been shot right by Slate’s house, his cameras might’ve recorded it. That could help ID the suspect. And he needed to put in a call to his contact at the FBI. He wanted to see the report on the terror cell that had been partially taken down yesterday in the warehouse raid. No doubt they wouldn’t send it over an unsecure connection, but he’d head home sooner if he had to. The domestic terror group was already part of an ongoing investigation, but with men tracking him and possibly Havoc, this was fucking personal now.
His gaze shifted to the icy roads. A plow still hadn’t come through yet, but his Jeep could handle heading down the mountain. What was he supposed to do about Ashleigh though? He couldn’t leave her here at the cabin alone if he needed to return to San Diego.
“Your neighbor gave the police a brief description, but he was quite agitated. He was yelling that you flew up to Seattle for the weekend.”
“God damn it,” Slate muttered. He didn’t blame his neighbor for being upset and disclosing his location in the confusion. He didn’t know what types of resources this homegrown terror cell might have though. Could they track him up here? If they were operating out of a warehouse, and those computers and equipment were seized by the FBI, did they have other computers stashed elsewhere? A sophisticated operation might be able to hack into the airlines’ computer systems and find his ticket information. They’d know what time he got here and exactly when he’d be leaving.
His name wasn’t listed at any address in Washington state, but Jett’s was. They shared the same last name. They wouldn’t have time to check every address listed under his last name though. He’d be gone before they’d even gotten started.
It seemed that he was in no immediate danger here at the cabin.
“Thanks for the update. Do we have any idea how many men are involved in this organization? How many are still out there?”
“No, sir. Commander Williams said the FBI isn’t playing nice. They’re not willing to share intel until their report is completed.”
“Fucking suits,” Slate muttered. “We already know about the threats to the U.S. military installations. They damn well better read us in on this.”
“I’ll speak with the commander, sir.”
“All right. God damn it,” Slate muttered, ending the call. He trudged to the front door of the cabin, feeling more and more irritated. Typical government where one hand didn’t know what the other was doing. He and his men were damn well cleared to receive further intelligence regarding the domestic terror cell. Keeping them in the dark would do absolutely nothing, especially when their own lives were being threatened. The Navy had already been actively investigating recent threats to several bases.
He stomped on the porch to get the snow off his boots, cursing as he realized that might scare Ashleigh. Slate got out his key and opened the door, his gaze sweeping the living room. Ashleigh’s laptop was on the coffee table, a blanket rumpled on the sofa. Her cell phone was there as well. He pulled off his gloves and then shucked off his coat, hanging them near the front door as the warm air blasted against his face. The cabin was cozy compared to the cold mountain air, but he frowned as he saw the fire was down to embers. Thankfully he’d kept the heat up so she stayed comfortable.
As if his thoughts alone had conjured her, Ashleigh came walking out of the kitchen. Her blonde hair shimmered in the light, and he felt a tug in his heart that he hadn’t in nearly a decade.
Shit.
He’d come here to spend the weekend alone, and he sure the hell hadn’t come to meet a pretty blonde. But seeing her walk toward him after he’d been gone all day made his chest fill with something unexplainable. Her curves filled out the sweater she had on, and at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and keep her safe. He itched to reach out and touch her but didn’t move from where he stood inside the door.
“Are you okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
He blew out a breath as those innocent green eyes searched his. Just because he was irritated as hell at the FBI and the entire situation didn’t mean he needed to be short with her. Ashleigh had noticed he was tense and was looking at him with nothing but concern. “I’m fine. Did you get some writing done?”
“Yeah, a lot actually. And I talked to Anna earlier. How was hunting?”
“Good.”
A beat passed, and they simply looked at one another. Strangely enough, Slate felt content now that he was in her presence again. He was hungry but energized after the day outside. He was irritated about the domestic terror cell, and he needed to follow up with multiple people in the next few minutes, but at this very moment, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from Ashleigh. He had no right to want her, but that didn’t stop the feelings he was currently battling inside. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice gentler than before.
She glanced down at her ankle. “Okay, I guess. I spent most of the day on the sofa so I could prop up my leg. I guess it’s a good thing I’m a writer and not a lumberjack or something.”
His lips quirked. “I can’t quite see you swinging an ax.”
“Yeah, me either. I’d probably twist my other ankle or break a couple of bones.”
He cocked his head toward the hall. “I need to go clean up and make a few phone calls. I’ll handle dinner tonight though.”
“So, are we eating boxed mac and cheese or something? You said you didn’t cook.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and his lips quirked. He resisted the urge to move closer to her. She was too young. Too different from him. And she lived clear across the country.
“I’m sure I can figure something out,” he said. “I’ll get the fire going again, too. I hope you weren’t too cold in here.”
“No, I was fine, and I had the blanket.” She flushed slightly, and Slate wondered if she was remembering him wrapping her up in the blanket last night. He’d hated that she was so cold, but he’d never forget the firelight dancing over her skin as he’d held her. “I’ll probably just finish up the chapter I’m working on while you’re showering or whatever.”
He nodded but didn’t move away.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” she asked.
He cleared his throat, taking a step closer to her. He liked that she looked up to meet his gaze but didn’t step away. They were still a few feet apart, but he liked having her near him. “You overheard me talking earlier about an incident my men were involved in last night. It turns out, the suspects attempted to track me down. A man who lives on my street in San Diego was shot today. The police said it was a case of mistaken identity. The gunman was looking for me.”
Ashleigh gasped, taking a step back in surprise, and Slate couldn’t resist crossing toward her. “Hey,” he said in a low voice, gently taking her trembling hand. “We’re safe here. I just need to make several calls and deal with this.”
“Okay,” she said softly. Her worried gaze darted to the front door.
“I locked the door. The windows are all secure. I need to pull up surveillance footage from my home back in San Diego to see if anyone was snooping around there. For all I know, the gunman pulled up and immediately shot my neighbor, but I’ve got to check to see if I have him on camera. I need to touch base with another commander on base as well.”
“Is your neighbor okay?”
Slate couldn’t bring himself to release her hand. It was so soft and small compared to his own, and he hated the fear in her eyes. “It sounds like he will be. He’s still in the hospital.”
“Someone tried to kill you,” Ashleigh said, her voice wavering. “How come you’re not more concerned?”
Slate frowned. “I’ve had a dangerous career. I’ve been shot at more times than I can count. I’ve killed men before during missions. I’ve saved countless lives, too. This threat is stemming from a domestic terror cell. Most of them were brought to justice, but the few that are still roaming around free have a list of names. They’re targeting us.”
“Like assassins or something? That’s nuts.”
Reluctantly, he released her hand, gently pulling her into his embrace. Ashleigh was stiff at first but then softened against him. Unable to stop himself, he ran a hand over her long, blonde hair. “It is. The U.S. has plenty of enemies, as I’m sure you’re aware. Anyone who occasionally follows the news would realize that. This group is mad about the U.S. involvement in Afghanistan over the years. I can’t go into details, of course, but they want to retaliate. To harm Americans. We’ve seen terror attacks before right here on U.S. soil. Some larger plans of theirs were thwarted, but now they’re targeting a few men—military and government officials alike.”
She stepped back and looked up at him, clutching onto his arm with both hands. “Wow. It’s just hard to believe anyone thinks like that here in the U.S. I think of terrorists as being far away—halfway around the world. Obviously, they came here on 9/11, but to be actively living here and planning things?” She shuddered, letting go of his arm. He instantly missed the loss of her touch.
“Sometimes there will be lone extremists, but this appears to be a well-organized group. The FBI crippled their organization, but we need to tie up a few loose ends.”
“And now they’re after you.”
“Yes, and several others. Security has been increased in Coronado and around several other military bases. Just because major plans were thwarted doesn’t mean a suicide bomber or other extremist won’t try to pull something off alone. I’ve got to be careful though with my name out there.”
“Do we need to leave? If they tracked you to your house back in California, what’s to say they won’t come here?”
“It’s possible they’ll attempt to track me. It’s also possible they’ll lie low and wait until I’m back in town or that they’ll move on to another target. There are always risks involved with a career like mine.”
“I’m kind of freaking out,” she admitted.
Slate shook his head. “There’s no need to be. Even if they did somehow track me all the way up here, I can protect us. Jett has rifles, like I mentioned, and I always travel with a firearm. I’m not worried about an untrained extremist coming to the door.”
“Well, I am.”
Slate reached out, gently brushing a stray piece of hair back from her face. “I swear that you’re safe with me.”
She nodded, and he hated that there was still a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. Slate didn’t have time to reassure her more though. He needed to change and make a number of calls. “Go finish your writing,” he gently ordered her. “I’ll be about thirty minutes or so. But don’t hesitate to yell if you need something.” He helped her over to the sofa to get her settled once again, and then he was striding down the hall, all business. Someone was after him, and he was about to get to the bottom of it.