Claiming Her SEAL(7)

Or maybe he was scared of spooking himself.

"Almost doesn't count," he countered fiercely and instantly forgave her  near-successful seduction that had doubled as a distraction, exactly as  he'd guessed. "The ocean can be treacherous. But it's an amazing,  wondrous place if you dive below the surface with the right guide. Let  me show you."

Bad, bad idea.

Or the best one he'd ever had in his life. If he was helping her get to a  place where she could go snorkeling with her friend-now that was an  intriguing, totally acceptable solution to his problem. Hell, he would  practically be acting in a professional capacity, which would mean he  could reel in all the sizzle. She'd be like a …  a student and that meant  hands off. He'd take her to Ilhota Rosa, an undeveloped island off the  north side of Duchess Island, so named for the pink sand beach. Tourists  had no access to it, so it would be very private.

It was perfect.

She could get to a place where she wasn't scared of snorkeling and he could make sure nothing happened to her. Win-win.         

     



 

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously but thoroughly captivated.

"I'll go under with you."

She hesitated long enough that he thought she was going to say no. But she didn't. "You'd do that?"

"Sure. I'm a certified scuba diver, and I've got more than a passing  familiarity with CPR. Who better to get your feet wet with than me?"

Her shiny eyes blinked and regained a bit of the my hero that she'd lost  yesterday when he'd driven her away for her own safety. Something  unwound inside in a place that he'd always governed with strict control,  and he had a very bad feeling that it didn't matter what kind of  imaginary barriers he put between himself and Emma, he'd still want to  sink into her as badly as he did at this moment.

"Right now?" She glanced dubiously at the crashing surf.

No. Not now, definitely not today, maybe not even tomorrow. Only at some  undefined point in the future when he could get a measure of control  back in place. "When you're ready. Come find me. If I'm not at the  parasailing dock at the resort beach, one of the guys will know how to  get in touch with me."

Before he could find even a smidgen of that control, a smile so full of  emotions he didn't even have names for broke open on her face, and it  filled him from the inside out. And then she iced that crazy cake by  leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I'll think about it."

The ability to speak dried up in his mouth as she walked away for the  second time. Like yesterday, he burned with a thousand unfulfilled  needs, only one of which rhymed with Dex, and he still didn't know her  last name.




After a night where nothing resembling sleep happened, Dex rolled from  bed in a mood more suited to go raid an Iraqi village in search of ISIS  generals. It wouldn't take much to get him primed to shoot a few  terrorists in the forehead from two hundred yards away.

Of course, he didn't do that anymore. For a very good reason. And that  put him in a worse mood. If he wanted to deal with the dark stuff inside  his brain, he'd go to therapy.

Evan nodded as Dex stomped into the kitchenette where they made coffee,  refrigerated beer-for Dex, since Evan was a recovering alcoholic-and  sometimes slapped together sandwiches but did little else in the way of  domestic niceties. That would be too much like a home, and neither of  them had any desire for that.

Except sometimes Dex did. Usually he just worked up a sweat doing  something physical and taxing until the yearning for something other  than a place to stay went away.

"Meeting this morning, 0900," Evan commented, his voice even more gravely than usual.

Dex growled. "About what?"

Charlie, their fearless leader, never called meetings that early. But  they were running a business on the side and that meant administrative  stuff that couldn't be avoided.

Aqueous Adventures was Charlie's baby. He'd recruited select members of  their former SEAL team to join him, and Dex owed his former commander  more than he could ever repay, not the least of which was a spot as part  owner of their fledgling company. If Charlie needed to talk to them,  they needed to be there.

Except sitting around a table jawing about finances or strategy or who  knew what all was so not what Dex wanted to do right now. He'd been  looking forward to pounding out his aggression in a five-mile run across  the island before they had to ship out to the reef for day job duties.

Evan shrugged and went back to his coffee. He'd said his piece, and he was done.

Throwing his own coffee in a to-go mug, Dex mainlined as much caffeine  as he could get down his throat while yanking on cargo shorts and a  T-shirt that might be presentable if you squinted, then followed Evan to  Charlie's bungalow across the dirt path.

Charlie lived with Jace in one of the largest bungalows in the tiny  village, which doubled as their office space, while Jack and Miles  bunked together in the smaller bungalow two down. Mary and Tyna, two  maids at the resort, shared the one in between, and they were great  girls. They never complained about being in the midst of so much  testosterone, nor did they give the off-islanders any grief about their  American nationality. Some of the villagers didn't like outsiders, but  when presented with six ex-SEALs in a united front, rarely did anyone  grumble to their faces.

Suited Dex fine. He had no interest in "fitting in," and usually he  appreciated the wide berth the natives gave him. Sometimes Tyna and Mary  baked cookies and shared them with their neighbors. That was okay,  especially when they slipped in extra chocolate chips with a wink at Dex  because they knew he worshiped at the altar of chocolate. The ladies  didn't expect anything in return, and that made them awesome neighbors  in his mind.         

     



 

Miles was already sitting at the table in the common area off the  kitchenette, engaged in an animated one-sided conversation with Jace,  who looked as if he'd pulled an all-nighter with a particularly hot  companion. The other man's jaw was buried in his palm as if it was the  only thing holding his head upright, and lines of fatigue crinkled his  eyes.

"She that good?" Dex commented unnecessarily as he fell into the next chair.

While Dex stayed far away from guests-with one very painful exception in  a white bikini-Jace had no problem fraternizing with the chicks who  fawned over him like he was a member of a boy band. Their resident party  boy traded on his former SEAL status shamelessly too, which was another  thing Dex didn't understand; military service was a deeply personal  experience, and trotting it out in order to score was borderline  sacrilegious.

"Totally worth it." Jace half grinned as he peered at Dex through his fingers and sighed lustily. "Yoga instructor from L.A."

The guys ribbed Jace about it, promising to make his life hell for the  foreseeable future because that's what friends did, until Charlie  cleared his throat.

Time to get down to business. They talked about a few financial hiccups  until Dex's eyes glazed over. But he forced himself to pay attention  because this was his business too.

Dex had far more than simple hopes pinned on the success of this  venture. He was all in because he could not go back to the States.  People might like to think they respected veterans, but they all had  stars in their eyes about what it took to keep Americans free. Dex got  tired of watching people morph into righteous zealots when he was stupid  enough to mention that he was a highly decorated sniper. So he'd  stopped mentioning it.

And then he stopped telling people much of anything. There were only so  many times you could hear that killing people in the name of war wasn't  the answer before you started to question why you'd thought it was.  Dex's life in the Caribbean was exactly what he wanted: anonymous, easy,  and guilt-free.

Charlie wrapped it up with, "It's party time."

His standard line. That meant the meeting was over and it was time to go to work.

The chorus of groans made Charlie grin. He was a stern taskmaster, but  he kept them all on the straight and narrow, which was a role Dex would  not relish. He didn't mind being given orders as long as he respected  the guy giving them, and Charlie was one of the few who'd earned that  right from Dex.

Miles and Jace jostled Dex as they came up alongside him on the way to  the dock where the dive captain waited in ReefCo's ride to take them out  to the reef restoration project along the north side of the island.

"Hey," Jace said with a chin lift. "You look like you're in sore need of  a night full of hot women and cold brew. Me and Miles are gonna hit the  Crow Bar tonight. We could be convinced to make room for a third wheel,  especially one as sorry-looking as you."

The Crow Bar was in Freeport on the main island, Grand Bahama-a  forty-five minute boat ride. Far enough away from Duchess Island that it  was considered a full-blown "night on the town," with all that  entailed. The cajoling smiles of the duo instantly raised his  suspicions. Either they planned to get in a lot of trouble and pin it on  Dex, or he had a worse case of Emma-itis than he'd thought if it was  apparent enough to trip the radar of a couple of blockheads like his  friends.