She slapped her hands against his chest. “Hold up, bub. Someone’s here.”
“Ignore it,” he murmured and scooted down her body until his lips grazed her inner thigh, his tongue snaking out to tantalize the sensitive flesh there. “I have plans for you.”
Her belly muscles clenched at the thought. Maybe…
The knock sounded again, more persistent than polite this time. Damn. She squirmed out from underneath him. “They’re not going to leave.”
“Audrey…” Left balancing on his hands and knees on the mattress, he hung his head and heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“Oh, poor baby got his favorite toy taken away.” She smacked his very fine butt. “We’ll play later. Get dressed.”
“Naked’s more fun.”
“Also inappropriate for company.” She found her discarded sundress wrinkled and still a little damp from their earlier swim, but it’d do. She pulled it over her head and started toward the bedroom door.
“Audrey, wait.”
She turned at the odd note in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Back was the tension the day had bled out of him. Very slowly, moving like a cat stalking its prey in the moonlight, he slid out of bed. “Look at the clock. Who would be visiting at this time of night?”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a neighbor. I do have them, you know.” Except the closest one was a mile down the road, and Gabe was right, midnight wasn’t a normal time for an old-fashioned neighborly visit.
“Stay here.” He leaned in and kissed her soundly before she could protest. “Please. This doesn’t feel right. Let me check it out first.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, her own anxiety spiking at the worry she saw in his eyes as he pulled on a pair of cargo shorts. “Be careful.”
“Always.” After another quick, reassuring kiss, he disappeared down the hall with his gun in hand.
She waited.
And waited.
Heard nothing and her heart kicked into high gear, drumming a cumbia beat out on her ribcage until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She peeked out into the hall and saw Gabe standing at the screened front door, scowling at a dark shadow on the other side.
“Audrey?” the shadow called. “Is that you? Who is this guy?”
At the familiar voice, she let out a breath of relief and walked to Gabe’s side. He gave a slight nod, conceding to the false alarm, and holstered his weapon.
Jesus, she was going to kill him for scaring her like that.
She hit the porch light, illuminating her sister-in-law’s face. “What are you doing here, Chloe?”
Chapter Twenty-four
SAN DIEGO, CA
Goddamn Gabe Bristow. And Quinn. And their team-fucking-building.
Marcus dropped his bag inside the door of his condominium and shuffled on legs that felt like Twizzlers as far as the oversized leather couch before collapsing face down into the cushions.
Bruised. Blistered. Sunburned. Parched. Dirty.
His aches had aches.
And he was pretty sure his aches’ aches were reproducing like rabbits. But, hey, at least he got to come home and sleep in his own bed tonight, unlike the rest of the guys, who were stuck in a hotel near the naval base.
SERE training. Ha.
They might as well call it break-you-till-you-cry-for-your-mommy training. Welcome-to-the-ninth-circle-of-hell training. Expose-and-exploit-your-every-weakness training.
But he hadn’t cracked. None of them had, not even scrawny little Harvard. They all bent to their limits and past, but they hadn’t cracked. As soon as his body stopped throbbing, Marcus thought he might find some pride in that.
Take that, Navy SEALs.
Marcus jolted awake to the sound of his cell phone vibrating near his head. He hadn’t been aware of falling asleep, but he’d rolled off the couch and now lay with his head partly under the coffee table. When he pried his eyes open, he saw the cell doing a jig across the glass top. He could even see the caller ID.
Giancarelli.
If it was anyone else, he’d ignore it, drag himself into the shower and then pass the fuck out in his king size, sleeping-on-a-cloud memory foam bed for three days. Or four. Hell, a whole week.
But it was Giancarelli. His best friend. The guy he’d ditched for nearly two years without so much as a see-ya-later because he’d been feeling sorry for himself.
Marcus groped around the edge of the table until he got hold of the phone. He didn’t have the energy to sit up. “Yo.”
“Shit, don’t tell me you’re drunk,” Danny said.
Drunk? Yeah, probably sounded that way, Marcus realized. “No. Overtired. What’s up?”
“I need to get a hold of Gabe, but I don’t have his number.”