Claiming Her SEAL(8)

He eyed Jace. "Don't you need to sleep?"

Jace snorted and flipped hair out of his face. He liked it long and  swore he'd never cut it again now that he didn't have to wear it  regulation buzz-cut style. "I'll sleep when I'm dead, thanks. Come on. I  like standing next to your ugly mug because you make me look oh so fine  in comparison."

But if he was off-island with the guys, Emma wouldn't be able to find  him. Which seemed like a fantastic reason to make himself scarce. What,  as if he'd half thought he'd hang around the dock like a lovesick school  boy in case the girl he had a crush on happened by?

"Whatever. I could use a beer."

Sounded like exactly what he needed, not that he'd let on, because then  he'd have to admit he had a problem. Which he didn't. The main island  was far enough away that the odds of running into anyone he knew-like  Emma-were zero. He could troll for a woman who liked it fast, hard, and  anonymous. The kind of woman who had enough of her own baggage that she  didn't care about his. He'd take her up against the back wall of the  club where it was so dark no one would notice them or care if they did.  He'd sate himself on the taste of female, and that would cure him of all  these visions of white bikinis that refused to let him sleep.         

     



 

"You sure you're okay?" Jace eyed him back. "You're off your game if  you're going to let the ugly mug comment go. I was expecting at least  something along the lines of, ‘the only way you'd look better is with a  bag over your head.'"

"I was thinking it," Dex retorted hotly, except it didn't make Jace any  less right. Dex was off his game. And he needed to get back on it  pronto.





As Dex, Jace and Miles threaded through the crowd to the inside bar, the  driving beat reverberated through Dex's body, hard and fierce, exactly  the way he liked it. Sometimes there was a live reggae band over in the  corner under the five-foot skull and crossbones flag, but Stella, the  owner of the Crow Bar, had picked recorded music tonight.

The bar catered more to locals than tourists, but there was an  understanding among the guys who worked at resorts-if you spied a hot  enough woman, you tipped her off to check out the scene. They all  scratched each other's backs, and Dex hugely appreciated the unwritten  rule that resulted in the hangout being populated with eye candy every  day of the week.

Women in thin, skimpy dresses lined the mahogany bar three deep. He'd  already made eye contact with a brunette who had more ink under her skin  than a fountain pen factory. The once-over she'd treated him to was  full of hard edges. Perfect.

She'd do. Any of them would do except the blondes. Jace and Miles could fight over those.

Dex muscled his way through the crush without a backward glance at his  wingmen-who were probably off on their own missions-and didn't bother to  mince words when he reached the brunette's side.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked with a  wink, sliding right into the cheap lines as easily as he'd slid into  the dark pants that passed as his dress-up clothes.

The loud music made it hard to hear, but it didn't matter. Her gaze lit  up like a neon sign, and he had no doubt she'd understood him perfectly.

She laughed throatily. "Oh, you have it all wrong. I'm in exactly the right place. I'm Jasmine."

She extended a hand full of blood-red nails an inch long, which would  draw as much pain as they did pleasure against his back as they dug in.  All at once, he couldn't imagine anyone's hands on him but Emma's. And  that pushed his mood past a place where he could be civil to another  woman.

"My mistake," he said smoothly. "I thought you were …  someone else. My  blind date. She must be running late. Sorry to have bothered you."

What was wrong with him? This woman couldn't have advertised her  availability more clearly with a billboard in Times Square. And he was  not going to take her up on it.

"Lucky girl." Jasmine's diamond-hard expression glittered with cynicism.  She'd heard it all before and then some. "If she doesn't show, I'll be  by the bar."

She turned back to her friends without further comment, cutting him off  almost rudely. Which made him feel worse. She'd been looking for  something, and he'd disappointed her. But they were all looking for  something. At least he had the capacity to give a jaded,  no-questions-asked woman like Jasmine-which was assuredly not even her  real name-what she wanted. They'd be nothing more than two people  offering nothing except fake names and using each other to get a few  moments of blessed relief from the bite of reality.

She didn't need anyone to protect her from a guy like Dex. She could take care of herself.

And he'd turned it down. Someone should kick him in the head.

Maybe he was just out of practice. When was the last time he'd gone  trolling for a woman with Jace and Miles? Two months? Three? He couldn't  even remember.

A couple of familiar faces swam out of the crowd. Dex grinned as the two  men caught sight of him, heads bobbing above the crowd with answering  grins.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Dex shook hands in turn with the two  guys he'd first met in Coronado, California a million years ago when  they'd gone through BUD/S training together. They'd crossed paths again  in the Middle East, though they'd been on different SEAL teams.

Mick Frasier jerked his head at the crowd behind him. "Saw Custer and  Lynch a minute ago. Figured you were hanging around looking to pick up  their castoffs."

Dex chuckled good-naturedly at Mick's reference to Jace and Miles. They  both had a reputation for being smooth dogs. "Yeah, that's why I'm  following them around, hoping they'll throw me some crumbs. What are you  doing down here?"

Mick got that look on his face, one Dex knew far too well. The one that  said there was a story but he wasn't in the mood to share it.         

     



 

"I'm out of the teams now." Mick took a deep breath and forced a smile  that didn't reach his eyes. "Heading to Miralinda first thing tomorrow  to do a thing for Will Parry. Told Finn I was off to the Caribbean, and  the next thing I know this jerk is dragging me here."

Dex didn't push the topic. It wasn't the time or place, and it wasn't in any of their natures to jabber about deep stuff anyway.

Finn Callahan, who was running a K-9 training business in the Keys,  picked up on the need to loosen everyone up and got in a good round of  ribbing. Dex gave back as good as he'd gotten. It was family bonding,  SEAL-style. They'd all known each other a long time, and the Caribbean  was a small place, especially when you were American and former  military.

"You want to tell us more about this mysterious trip to Miralinda?" Finn asked.

Mick shook his head. "It's not that mysterious. At least not  deliberately. Turns out, Will's inherited some property there. An  abandoned sugar plantation. We're gonna turn it into an executive  training facility."

"Like a resort?"

"Maybe. Who knows, place might be a complete disaster. I've been running  around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything  wrapped up back home, and now I'm here for God knows how long, and I'm  looking at months of construction and backbreaking labor ahead of me.  Whoever said that getting out and going private was easy? Ha. Joke's on  me."

Dex knocked back a third of his beer. "I know the feeling. We're busting  ass to get out of the red ourselves, and it's a tough row to hoe."

They talked shop for a few minutes until a woman behind Dex caught  Mick's eye, and he completely lost interest in anything that had to do  with bottom lines and advertising costs. "She looks thirsty, boys. I'm  off."

Dex and Finn saluted and sent their mate off with a few pointed tips  about safety. Mick jetted after the woman, and Dex glanced over his  shoulder to see who had so thoroughly captured Mick's attention. A  redhead. When she smiled at Mick, she reminded Dex so much of Malika his  mood instantly devolved again.

He'd come here to forget, not to have constant reminders of why he liked  anonymous, nameless, and low-pressure encounters with women who didn't  ask questions. Which pissed him off all over again because he couldn't  even seem to cross the finish line on that anymore.

Malika had ruined him for women like Emma, the kind you committed to and  went gaga over, and Emma had apparently ruined him for one-night-only  women like Jasmine. Where did that leave him?

"You know her?" Finn asked as he did a double take at Dex's face.

Which he promptly wiped clear. No point in rehashing that mess. "Nah. Redheads are not my thing."

"Sure seems like there's a thing," Finn commented, and his grin said he  didn't realize that Dex's nerves were skating on a thin edge.

Maybe he could pound out his frustration on Finn's pretty face. But that would mean he'd have to explain why.

It wasn't like Dex had gone around blabbing to his friends about the  last redhead he'd made the mistake of hooking up with. And there was a  reason for that. Malika was the devil's right-hand woman, and the less  energy he spent on her memory the better.