Stone Hard SEALs Page 11

  “They said you had my daughter,” the senator said in a gruff voice. “Where is she?”

  “Daddy?” Lily peeped out from behind him and then rushed into the room, barreling into her father’s arms.

  “Oh. Thank God,” the senator gushed as he wrapped her in a crushing hug.

  It was natural for her to cry, Stone supposed. He didn’t know why it tore him up to hear her sobs. Maybe the fact that now she was safe—in her father’s arms—and it was definitely over. Whatever it was.

  She didn’t belong to him anymore. If she ever had.

  Fuck. He hated this.

  He attempted to push the bleakness away. Stiffening his spine, he stormed over to the table and stared at the maps, quickly analyzing the plan of attack.

  “Wilson was the one asking us to hold back,” Brandywine murmured as Stone studied the op. “Now that his daughter is safe, we’re going in full bore.”

  “We’ll be taking three teams, air and marine assault,” Harper added. “No need for surprise. We’re shooting for sheer intimidation.”

  Stone nodded. “I want to go.”

  Harper studied him. Stone knew he looked like hell. He didn’t care. When the lieutenant’s attention narrowed in on the bullet wedged in his vest, he knew what he’d say. “You’ve been shot.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You need to get to medical.”

  “Bullshit. There’s no time for that.”

  “You’ve been fucking shot.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Goddamn it, Maddox—” Harper choked on the words. His face went beet red. “Um, sorry, ma’am,” he said.

  Stone turned to find Lily at his side. Oh, he’d known she was there. He’d felt her approach. She set her hand on his arm. Her touch burned him. “You aren’t going back in?” Her lip trembled. “You just got safe.”

  He set his teeth. “I have to, Lily. It’s my job.”

  Her haunted expression made his chest hurt. Even more. “But Stone, can’t someone else go?”

  He put his hands on her slight shoulders, willing her to understand. “Sure they can. But Drake is a member of my team. This is my mission…and I know the lay of the land. I have to go.”

  “But Stone…”

  His grip tightened. Damn. This was harder than he’d expected, but it had to be said. She needed to understand. Maybe now she would. “This is exactly what I meant, Lily. This is what I was talking about. This is what I do. When there’s danger, I rush in.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. The sight burned him to a crisp. Her lip wobbled. She reached up to cup his cheek. “I don’t want you to go.” A whisper. A sigh.

  He kissed her forehead—without thinking, but his brain wasn’t working very well anyway. He couldn’t help but notice the sharp shift in energy around them. Most specifically, her father’s bristle. And Harper’s. And Brandywine’s.

  Typically, SEALs didn’t kiss their targets.

  In front of their targets’ fathers.

  But they could all bristle all they wanted. This was between him and Lily. Suddenly, he didn’t give a damn who saw, who knew, or who cared. All that mattered was her. Her understanding. Her peace. And, in a very real way, just her.

  “I have to go, baby. I just have to.”

  The senator made a strangled sound at the endearment and stepped forward, crossing his arms. Not a good sign. “And you are?” The question was clipped and sharp. Stone read between the lines. What he really meant was: Who the fuck are you? And get your hands off my daughter.

  “Daddy.” Lily frowned at her father as she stepped between the two men. “This is Ryder Maddox, but people call him Stone. He saved me.”

  The senator was not mollified. “I gathered as much.” He gave Stone a scorching once-over and his lips curled a little bit.

  “Daddy, you don’t understand. He saved my life. A man had a gun to my head and he saved me.”

  The senator paled as he stared at his daughter. His Adam’s apple worked. When his gaze shot to Stone’s, he met it. He owed the man that much. Besides, he never backed down from a challenge. He was not a coward. Even if Lily thought him one. “Sir.”

  It took a while for the senator to decide what to do. Apparently the choices were to order Stone hung from the yardarms for kissing his daughter, or offer his hand. It was a relief when he thrust out his hand.

  Shit, he had a firm handshake for a pencil pusher.

  “Thank you for keeping my daughter safe,” he muttered grudgingly.

  “My pleasure, sir.” Stone winced as the words slipped out. It had been his pleasure. In more ways than one. In more ways than Daddy needed to know about.

  Harper cleared his throat. “We should get moving, Maddox. If you want to do a ride along, you’re going to need fresh gear.”

  Stone nodded. Body armor wasn’t guaranteed to stop endless hits. He needed to collect new ballistic plates, get fresh ammo, and restock his kit. He forced a soothing smile at Lily, but judging from her reaction it was not as comforting as he hoped. “Gotta go, Lily,” he said.

  Was this it? Was this the last time he would see her? The last words he’d ever speak to her?

  Probably.

  He wished he could wrangle up something memorable. Or romantic. Or clever. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t wade through the murk of his desolation to find the words.

  She smiled back. It was sad and sweet. “Be safe,” she whispered. This time, she kissed him. And not on the forehead. Silence settled in the room as the kiss, their final farewell, dragged on. Stone savored every second.

  “Ahem.” Fucking Harper.

  Stone lifted his head and gazed down at her, memorizing her face, her scent, this moment, although he already had.

  She patted him on the chest. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she said.

  The senator issued a snort. “Absolutely not, young lady. We’re leaving immediately. We have a jet standing by.”

  Stone’s heart dropped. He’d known. He’d known this was it, but he’d really secretly hoped she’d still be here when he got back. He’d thought he could do it. He’d thought he could say a casual good-bye and walk away from her forever. But now that the time was here…

  Maybe he was a coward.

  Because he didn’t think he could face life without her.

  “Come along, Lily.” The senator took her arm and tried to tug her from the room.

  She steeled herself and didn’t budge. Then Lily shot a look at her father, one Stone had never seen before. Or maybe he had. She had a flair for intractable looks—this one was fierce. She set her jaw in a stubborn line, opened her mouth, and said, “No.”

  Just no.

  Her father gaped at her. “What did you just say?”

  “No. We’re staying until everyone comes out safe.”

  “Lily. Darling. I need to get you home. Your mother is beside herself.”

  “Call her and tell her I’m okay. But I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not. Yet.”

  “But—”

  Her eyes blazed. The sight filled Stone with pride…and perhaps a flicker of fear. As tiny as she was, she was truly daunting when she wanted to be. “This is not a negotiation.”

  The senator paled. His eyes narrowed. His gaze shot to Stone and back to his daughter. “You never told me no before.” It sounded like a complaint.

  She patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I must insist. I won’t rest at all until I know everyone is off that island.”

  The senator seemed to deflate as he blew out a breath. “Okay. Okay. I guess. I’ll go call your mother…” He tromped over to the corner, where his security detail waited, and commandeered a sat phone.

  Lily turned to Stone and grinned. “I learned that from you,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Being all adamant. You’re good at it.”

  He couldn’t help it. He kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips.

  He could have ki
ssed her forever, but Harper cleared his throat again, reminding Stone that he needed to move. But hell, it was hard saying the words. “I have to go.”

  Her smile dimmed. “Will you be gone long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  Her chin tipped up. She nodded. A light, imbued with meaning, flared in her eye. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

  And somehow, they both knew she wasn’t talking about the mission.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shit on a Shingle, Lily decided, was a terrible thing to do to America’s fighting men. She poked at the grayish mound on her tray with a tin fork. She’d thought the MREs were hideous, but this far surpassed the dreaded meatloaf in sheer yuckiosity.

  The something-like-eggs she’d had for breakfast had been little better. She liked to think she wasn’t spoiled, but maybe she was. At the very least, soldiers deserved a massive raise, perhaps hazard pay, for eating this.

  She glanced at the men seated at the surrounding tables. They didn’t seem to mind the food. They shoveled it in as though it were manna from heaven.

  Maybe it was her. Maybe her stomach was churning too much to truly enjoy the delights of the mess hall. Although, in truth, the place was aptly named.

  Despite the gastronomic torture, she was so glad she’d insisted on staying. Because once Stone left, and after the commanders debriefed her—asking incessant questions—she’d finally been able to ask a few of her own. She had discovered, to her horror, that the hostage who had yet to be rescued was Brandy.

  Now worry swamped her. Worry for both of them—her friend and her man. And yes, that was how she thought of him. He was hers.

  He could make up all the stupid excuses he wanted, but she wasn’t going to let him go. He was a fighter, a warrior.

  Well, so was she.

  Her new mantra? What would be…would be what she made it.

  The only way she would allow this to end would be because he didn’t want her. And if that was the case, by God, she’d make him admit it.

  She peeped at the clock on the wall and frowned. He’d been gone far too long—much longer than it should have taken to zip over to the island and pick up a couple hostages. To make things worse, when she asked anyone what was going on, they all pressed their lips together and murmured it was classified.

  As if she would tell anyone.

  Her father kept urging her to leave as well, which she was not going to do.

  He’d finally gotten the message—that his daughter was no longer a compliant creature who would meekly follow orders—and he’d gone off to tour the ship with one of the officers. They were all delighted to have a senator on board.

  Or maybe not delighted, but they were good at pretending. Lily suspected the tour was just a ruse to keep him occupied. Her father, like most men, enjoyed large mechanical things with guns attached, so he’d happily gone along.

  Which left Lily alone, surrounded in the chow hall by sailors and SEALs who wouldn’t talk to her, and her security team, which had reattached to her like remoras.

  Alone. With nothing to do.

  Nothing but poke at her Shit on a Shingle and worry. And fret. And think.

  Naturally, her thoughts gravitated to the night she and Stone had spent together in each other’s arms. She relived every touch, every kiss. Despite Stone’s conviction that once she was safe, her fascination with him would fade, she felt the opposite.

  Her feelings for him solidified, along with her certitude.

  He was the one for her.

  She would take him any way she could—even on his terms.

  The only fly in the ointment was the possibility that he hadn’t been talking about her fascination waning when everything was back to normal. Maybe he’d been talking about his.

  Guys like Stone probably fended off lovelorn women all the time. And Lily was nothing special. She was…just who she was. The likelihood that a man like him, with his convictions, would renounce his vow for someone like her was dismal.

  She wouldn’t know until he got back. Until everyone was safe. Until they could speak privately about all this.

  And even if he told her what she feared most hearing—that yeah, it had been great, but it was over—she wanted, needed to know.

  She couldn’t rest until—

  She stilled as a hum of energy rose around her; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A movement in the corner of her eye captured her attention and she turned toward the hatch just as Stone stepped through. Her heart lurched, then leapt, skipping in a manic tattoo.

  He was back.

  He was safe.

  She drank in the sight of him. He was so handsome, so stalwart and brave. And grubby. His face was covered in goo again.

  He hadn’t even stopped to clean up. He’d come straight for her.

  Or food.

  He could have come straight for food…

  She stood, stared at him. “Stone.” Her lips formed the words, but they remained unspoken. She tried to read him. As always, his expression was inscrutable, but his attention was fixed on her and not the food.

  Which was promising.

  He took a step toward her, his features hard, unyielding. The energy between them sizzled. She despaired for a moment that he might not speak at all, and then…he broke.

  “Lily.” Her name wrenched from his lips. He opened his arms.

  She ran to him, ignoring the hard juts of his armor and weapons and the tools on his belt. She clung, holding on to him for dear life. “You’re safe.”

  “Of course I’m safe,” he muttered. “Everyone is safe.” Bone-deep relief tinged his tone.

  “Drake?”

  “In med bay.”

  “And Brandy?”

  His brow wrinkled. “Brandy?”

  “The other hostage?”

  “Ah. Brandywine’s daughter. Yes. She’s safe too.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “She wants to see you.”

  Of course she did. But not yet. Not yet.

  Lily traced the curve of Stone’s jaw. Just seeing him was not enough. She needed a touch. The bristles of his beard scraped against her skin; it was very reassuring. As was the warm light simmering in his beautiful gray eyes.

  “You waited.” His voice broke on the words.

  “I told you I would.”

  “I know you did. But I thought… I expected…”

  “That I would run?” She met his eye. “I’m no coward.”

  He flushed as she referred to her earlier accusation. Then his jaw went hard. His throat worked. “I’m no coward either. Lily…”

  When he didn’t finish the thought, she decided it might be prudent to prompt him. “Yes?”

  “Ah, Lily…if you want to…explore this… I mean… I’d be…well…”

  For a man who wasn’t a coward, he certainly had a difficult time making a declaration. So she stopped him. She set her palm on his cheek. “Me too, Stone.” She went up on her toes and kissed him. “Whatever you want. Wherever this takes us.”

  He stilled. “Wherever?”

  “Anywhere.” In truth, she would go to the moon if he asked.

  His lashes flickered. “I’m based in San Diego. I don’t get to DC very often…”

  She laughed. “I live in Seattle.”

  He gaped at her. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “My mother lives in Seattle. I have a place there. I visit whenever I have leave.”

  “Well, there you go. Would you…like to…” Oh lordy. Now she was the one struggling with words.

  “Would I like to what?” His voice was a low thrum. She liked the way he nuzzled closer. She liked everything about him. His breadth, his heat, his scent. More than liked. She craved him. Loved him.

  She swallowed heavily. She’d never asked a man out before. Her nerves fizzled and popped. She steeled her spine. “Would you like to have a date…the next time you’re in town?” Swamped with a sudden shyness, she dropped her gaze.

  He tipped it b
ack up. “Lily Wilson?”

  “Yes, Stone Maddox?”

  “I would very much like to have a date the next time I’m in town. In fact, I must insist.”

  And then he yanked her into his arms and kissed her. Kissed her hard.

  All the men in the chow hall cheered and hooted.

  Except, of course, for the men in black suits and sunglasses, who talked into their wrists.

  BOOK 2: DRAKE

  Chapter One

  Panicked shouts echoed across the deck of the Avonturier. Brandy’s blood curdled; she leaped to her feet and stared at the two boats jouncing on the waves, racing toward their cruise ship. Her heart thudded in her throat. Shit. In the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Somalia, it could mean only one thing.

  Pirates.

  She shot a look at Lily and her stomach clenched. As a field nurse, Brandy had seen plenty of action, but her friend Lily was totally inexperienced. A tourist in every sense of the word. She had a pie-in-the-sky sense of optimism that frequently got her in trouble.

  It was up to Brandy to keep her safe. God knew none of the other passengers on this aid trip would be any help at all. Nancy was a flibbertigibbet and both Michael and Pierre liked to pose as real men.

  “Quickly,” Captain Garnier barked. “You must go below. Now.”

  All of the passengers sprang up from the table where they’d been enjoying a lovely alfresco luncheon to gape at him. The spindly table lurched, sending water goblets tumbling.

  “Go. Now,” the captain bellowed as they hesitated. “There’s a hidden cubby in the storage hold. It should be large enough for all of you.”

  Brandy did as he commanded; she got all the way to the lower deck before she realized Lily wasn’t behind her.

  Shit.

  She raced back up the stairs. Damn it all anyway. She and Lily had been roommates in college, and friends ever since. She loved her to death, but honestly. As the only daughter of a famous politician, Lily had lived a very sheltered life. In Brandy’s experience, sheltered lives made people street stupid. Or, in this case, boat stupid.