Hot SEAL, Secret Service: SEALs in Paradise Read online

  Liam’s heart jumped into his throat. He keyed his mic. “Hostage confirmed at location. Two tangos active. Copy?”

  Command responded. “Copy. FBI at the ready to advance on house.”

  “Negative. SITREP too volatile. Hold position.”

  “Roger. Holding.” The reply was a different voice and Liam knew the FBI had been following the ongoing conversation. One of his fears was that some FBI hotshot would try to make his rep off this op and get Liz killed in the process. So far, they’d held off, letting Liam take the lead, but he knew his time was getting shorter by the second. If he didn’t act soon, the op would be taken from his hands and the feds who’d just arrived on the scene would fuck up everything.

  “I want my money now,” one of the men inside the house demanded.

  “Fuck off. You knew the deal. After the Vice President’s press conference, we’ll clear out. I’ll have everyone’s payment when we rendezvous in St. Louis next Wednesday.”

  “Gonna be hard to spend a million dollars if we’re dead or in prison,” the man muttered. “Something’s gone wrong. I say we kill her and leave.”

  “Not up to you, now is it, Darrel? Get the girl and bring her in here so we can send Daddy her proof of life picture. I’ve gotta take a piss.”

  A light flicked on toward the front of the cabin. Liam crab-walked down the side of the building and took a chance to glance inside a room. His blood pressure rocketed. A short, heavy bald man worked on knots in a rope holding their hostage—his Liz—secured to a bed.

  Red-hot fury arced through him. Liz wore only a peach-colored bra with matching tap pants. No shoes. Nothing to keep her the least bit warm. These bastards would be lucky not to leave here in a black body bag.

  Focus, Liam.

  Liz would be free from her restraints in seconds. He had to keep the two men apart. He needed a diversion to draw this guy outside, too. Then he noticed the radio in the bedroom. He keyed the radio he’d confiscated from one the men they’d subdued twice, a signal for his guys.

  He stepped away from the house where his voice wouldn’t carry inside and spoke into the radio.

  “Darrell? Can you hear me?” Liam whispered in a deep voice, trying to sound as much like the last guy as he could.

  The radio came to life. “Frank? Where are you?”

  “Outside. Listen. Sampson sold us out. He’s gonna kill all of us and take the money for himself.” Liam used Darrell’s fear against him, hoping he could draw the man into coming outside to the team to rule out any assault on the house. “The Russian guys have split. It’s just us four.”

  “No way, man. Sampson would never do that.”

  “I promise, man. Viktor got the info from the Russians before they split. We’ve got the proof out here. I’m holding it in my hands.”

  “Never should have hired those guys. Viktor was the one who wanted to bring his cousin in on this. Damn Russians. Bring in whatever you’ve got. Let Sampson clear this up.”

  “No way. I’m not getting myself killed just to show you the proof. Come outside and then we’ll show you. If you don’t agree, then we’ll all confront Sampson.”

  This time there was a long pause while Darrell considered his options. “No. You gotta be wrong. Sampson wouldn’t do that,” he repeated.

  “Fine,” Liam whispered. “We’re getting out of here while we can. Sampson’s keeping the twenty million for himself. Viktor’s got the proof, but whatever. Viktor says ‘So long, sucker.’ Good luck. Over and out.”

  He clicked the radio off and waited. It didn’t take long. He heard the backdoor creak open.

  “Frank?” he whispered. “Where are you guys?”

  “Over here,” Dutch said. “By the woodpile. There’s a light over here so we can show you what we have.”

  Darrell took a quick look over his shoulder then scurried across the snow-packed yard. Liam knew his guys would handle Darrell. That only left Sampson, the leader of this hired group of thugs.

  Whomever was behind this kidnapping had promised twenty million when the deal was done. Who needed Vice President Chanel off the presidential ticket and why? That was the million—or rather, twenty-million-dollar question.

  One thing Liam was sure of though, there’d never been a plan to release Liz. None of her kidnappers wore face masks because they didn’t care if she saw them. They’d never intended for her to leave here alive.

  “Darrell?” Sampson called from inside the house. “Where the hell are you? Damn it. I have to do everything.” The man stomped passed the bedroom window where Liam was crouched.

  Darrell had left Liz’s feet untied but her hands were securely fastened to an iron ring driven into the wall. Helplessness and frustration ate at Liam as he watched her struggle unsuccessfully against the ropes.

  Sampson cuffed the side of her head. “Stop that. Gotta have you looking good for your picture for Daddy.”

  “Fuck you.” She spat at him.

  Liam bit back a smile. That was the Liz he knew.

  “All your daddy has to see is your face,” Sampson warned. “I can do a hell of a lot of damage that can’t be seen. Is that what you want? Those fancy pants stripped off?” He rubbed his crotch with the hand holding his gun. “You wantin’ some of this? Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll get to have us all before you go home.”

  Every muscle in Liam’s body tightened. Sampson was a fucking dead man, orders or no orders. Unforeseen action when taking him down. They had the other tangos to interrogate. This asshole was going down.

  Sampson untied one hand and then pointed his gun. “Untie your other hand.”

  “I can’t. I’m right-handed. I can’t do anything with my left.”

  “Fuck,” he spat. “Worthless whore.” He waved the gun in her direction. “Don’t get cute. I don’t like cute.” He circled around to the other side, pulled a knife from his boot and cut the rope.

  Liz jerked forward and headbutted him.

  Liam raced around the cabin and through the rear door, his Glock leading the way. Before he could proceed down the hall to the bedroom where the hostage had been taken, the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence followed quickly by a gunshot. His heart racing, Liam ran toward the sound, his gun and trigger finger on the ready. He swung around the door frame and came face-to-face with the barrel end of a Glock.

  “Don’t shoot,” Liam yelled. He ducked to the right as a bullet zinged passed his head.

  “Damn it. You almost shot me.” Liam stepped forward and snatched the gun from Liz’s hand.

  “Well, hell. I couldn’t wait for you, now could I?” She slapped a hand on her cocked hip. “What took you so long?” Dressed in a matching pink bra and tap pants, her four-inch heels looked completely wrong and yet, so damn sexy. But then, she could make a burlap bag sexy. She tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and gestured toward the injured man on the floor. “I have to do everything myself.”

  Before he could answer, the front and rear doors burst open and his team charged though guns at the ready. Behind them, a swarm of FBI filled the small area.

  “Stand down,” Liam shouted. “It’s under control.”

  His team lowered their weapons while the agents stayed on guard. On the floor, Sampson moaned.

  Liam slipped his arms from his coat and held it out for Liz. She had to be freezing and, to be honest, he wanted to be the only man who got to see her dressed like this.

  “Just a minute. That bastard threatened to rape me,” Liz said and kicked him in the ribs with the pointed toe of her shoe. “Whew. That felt good. Now, give me your coat.”

  As soon as she grasped Liam’s jacket, she was surrounded by the men wearing heavy, black vests with FBI on them. With them were a group of men and women attired in white camo and earpieces. He tagged the second group as Secret Service, even though he didn’t recognize any of them.

  “Yes, sir,” one of the men in the second group said into his radio. “We’ve got her. Yes, sir. She’s fine. Yes,
sir.”

  A man dressed in a suit and heavy trench coat followed the other two groups into the room and stepped up to Liz. “Ms. Chanel, I’m Michael Brandt. I’m the new head of your Secret Service detail. I need for you to come with me.”

  She flinched away when he touched her shoulder. “I don’t think so. Where’s Liam?” She turned until their gazes met. “He’s my bodyguard.”

  Liam walked to her side. “Your safety is the most important thing here, Liz. You probably should go with them.”

  “What I want is for the people behind this to rot in jail and to go home with you.”

  “Ma’am, we have a safe house ready for you,” Brandt said.

  “So do I,” she said with a sniff and an upturn of her nose. “It’s called Liam’s house.”

  It took a couple of hours to get everything in place for her security. The eight men at the kidnapping site were secured and hauled away by the FBI or Homeland Security, or some other alphabet agency. Liam wasn’t sure which agency took them, and as long as they were never free again, he didn’t really care who took them or where.

  As she’d insisted, Liz and Liam were transported to his house while the rest of his team were flown home. Of course, he and Liz were accompanied by her security team. There was no getting around that.

  Once inside, he closed and locked his door. Even with Secret Service standing guard, he wasn’t taking any chances with her. Standing in his living room, still wearing his jacket and a heavy blanket, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever known, but he was also keenly aware that the issue that had broken them apart was still the elephant in the room.

  Her teeth chattered and her hands shook. Whether her shakes were from the cold, or nerves or the drop in the adrenaline in her bloodstream, Liz wasn’t sure. She turned toward Liam, ready to reach for him, to welcome him back into her life. The loss of him in her life had been like losing a part of herself.

  He stood with his arms crossed watching her. Exhaustion etched lines on his face. His ramrod stance told her she faced an uphill battle to get him back, and make no mistake…she would do whatever it took to get him back.

  She pulled her gaze from his unsmiling face and glanced around. His house hadn’t changed a speck since she’d last been here. Unfortunately, she feared the owner might be much the same.

  Her legs began to tremble, joining her chattering teeth. She crossed her arms, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. “I can’t get warm.”

  “Adrenaline crash.” He spoke with the authority of someone who’d experienced many adrenaline crashes. He was probably right. “Come on.” He swept her into his arms and started toward his master bathroom. “A hot shower will do wonders.”

  Wiggling her hips, she settled into his carry. “I can walk,” she said, nuzzling her nose under his chin. God, he smelled like home and security. She might have sighed…fine, she sighed and the rested her head on his firm chest.

  “Maybe you can, but right now, I need this.” His breath hitched. “Damn, Liz. I was scared to death when I heard you’d been taken.” He pulled her even tighter against him. “I thought you were gone and I’d never see you again.”

  Her legs were a little wobbly when he set her on her feet in his massive bathroom. “I wasn’t supposed to get out of there, was I? They were going to kill me, weren’t they?”

  He turned her face to his. “But they didn’t, and they won’t. They’d have to get through me, and that’s not going to happen.”

  She dropped heavily onto the closed toilet seat. “Do they know who’s behind this?”

  He shook his head. “No, and if the Secret Service knows, it’s beyond my security clearance.”

  He disappeared around a glass-brick wall. The splash of running water filled the quiet. A couple of minutes after the water began flowing, steam—wonderful, warm steam—billowed around the wall.

  Liz wanted to jump up, strip, and throw herself under the hot water. But she couldn’t seem to make her body answer the command to move. Her knees quivered like shaken Jello. Her heart beat painfully against her ribcage as though each rib were a bar on a xylophone. This whole episode felt surreal.

  Oh, dear lord! What if she’d fallen asleep and this was all a dream? God knew she’d dreamed of nothing, but Liam Ghost since they’d split.

  She pinched her leg. “Ouch.”

  Liam whipped around to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  He was so gorgeous with his dark chestnut-colored hair and his lapis eyes. The hard angles in his face made it appear as though he’d been chiseled from marble, but she could testify that he was far from cold stone. Touching him had been like caressing a flesh-covered furnace. Right now, she could use some of his heat.

  Her eyes ate up the vision of him clad only in a black V-neck undershirt and black boxers. Damn. It was unfair that God had given one man all the goodies. Testosterone and pheromones oozed from every pore instead of sweat like other men.

  “Is this a Christmas dream?” she whispered.

  When he smiled in response to her question, the air rushed from her lungs. She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and prepared herself to wake up tied to a bed in a cold house. She opened her eyes slowly, one eye at a time. This time he reached out and brushed her hair off her face.

  “Not a dream, babe. I’m here, for as long as you’ll have me.”

  Her eyes teared up and the lump that formed in her throat made speaking difficult. Could she trust him again? His leaving had ripped her heart from her chest and the hole that remained hadn’t begun to fill.

  She sniffed and commanded her arms to move. To her surprised, they did, wrapping snuggly around his neck. The feel of his hard chest pressing against her produced a violent shiver. “I’m freezing,” she said, hoping he believed that lie instead of realizing what he did to her.

  The band at the base of her bra loosened when he unclasped the hooks. She pulled away from his neck and let the straps slide down her arms and off onto her hands. She tossed the expensive designer lingerie across the room to the corner.

  Liam eyed her breast, licked his lips and then jerked his black cotton shirt over his head and tossed it on top of her discarded bra.

  He pushed his black boxers to the floor. His cock lengthened and hardened as he watched with hooded eyes when she stood and shimmied the matching tap pants down to her ankles. She kicked the silky material over to the corner, landing it perfectly in the middle of his discarded shirt. When he reached for her, she climbed him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing her moist center against his hard cock.

  He hissed out a strangled, “Fuck.”

  “Merry Christmas, baby,” she said, grinding against him.

  Big, strong hands grabbed her ass and pressed her firmly against his straining shaft. She knew he was resisting driving immediately deep inside her. Damn him. She didn’t need—or want—considerate actions from her ex-lover. She wanted him buried up to the hilt inside her, deep enough to remind her she was alive; she had survived.

  She bit his shoulder. “Fuck me.”

  He chuckled. “In good time. I want a warm body to fuck, not an iceberg.”

  She hated to admit he might have a point. Her skin was still icy.

  He walked under the jet streams from the wall nozzle. Hot water splashed against her back causing her to arch in relief. Her stiff nipples raked his chest hair moments before one hand moved from her ass to capture her breast. He squeezed her flesh, then pushed her away. With legs still wrapped firmly around him, she tilted back at the waist. He caught a nipple between his teeth, bit, then tongued the pain away. Sucking harder, he pulled her nipple then a large part of her breast into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through the wet strands of his hair and held him firmly.

  She moaned. “Suck harder. Harder.”

  His cheeks hollowed as he pulled hard at her nipple.

  She rocked her hips against his rigid length, searching for relief for the tension building inside. Her back hi
t the heated shower tiles as he turned. He grabbed her legs and pulled them from around him, sliding her feet to the floor.

  “Can you stand?”

  She nodded, pushing her dripping hair from her face.

  He dropped to his knees. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” His voice was choked with emotion. He nuzzled his nose into her cleft. “I thought I’d lost you forever.” His tongue swept through her folds, licking from back to front. “Thought I’d never get to taste you again.” The tip of his tongue found her clitoris, circled it, then dipped back to her channel to tongue her again.

  Liz’s legs trembled, not only from his caresses, but from the emotion of his words. The muscles in her abdomen shook and seized, clenching with each sweep of his talented tongue.

  His hair fell across his brow. She raked it back, not wanting anything to block her view of his dark head between her pale thighs.

  Her hips began to move in concert with his tongue. Each lick produced an involuntary sway over his face as he used his tongue to caress every inch between her legs.

  The void he’d left in her life, in her soul, had been miserable and painful. She lacked the word to fully express how very much she’d missed his touch, his caring, his love.

  Heat built inside her that had nothing to do with the warm water sluicing down her flesh. Her hips movement became jerky as she tried to find her release.

  “Liam,” she moaned. “Liam.”

  The tip of his tongue rimmed the inner folds of her sex sending her over the edge. She screamed as waves of muscular spasms seized her. When she could finally open her eyes, she looked down into Liam’s upturned face. She captured his face between her hands and pulled him to standing.

  “Make love to me,” she said and kissed him.

  The kiss started gentle…for about two seconds, then Liam took control, plunging his tongue between her lips, stroking every area of her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips, in his mouth. A heady high rushed through her veins.

  Her tongue met his and tangled for control. He pulled his mouth away, changed the angle of his head, and pressed his lips to hers again. This time, she took control, shoving her tongue into his mouth, moving it in and out mimicking what she wanted—needed—from him.