Anne Marsh - Teasing Her Seal

Remy followed. The Cajun seemed right at home on the island, passing as the general maintenance and go-to guy. He’d be the man in the hot seat when it came to bringing Marcos in because he’d be the first to face the guy.

Ashley was the last to arrive. She’d infiltrated Fantasy Island as a guest and, in keeping with her cover, she entered their bay in a resort kayak, just another guest out for a recreational paddle. Never mind that she’d driven the kayak through the lagoon waters at a brutal pace, taking the craft through the rocks just for shits and giggles. She looked sexy as sin in her skullhead-print bikini and a pair of hot pink shorts that earned plenty of teasing from the guys.

Levi winked at her. “Now that’s a get-up you won’t catch a SEAL in.”

She flipped him off and dropped down onto a stack of duffel bags. “My boobs are better than yours. You’d look damned silly in a bikini.”

“Now there’s truth, sugar.” Levi laughed, unoffended.

Gray let the teasing wash over him as he broke down his gun. He didn’t need to look at it—any SEAL could break down and rebuild his weapons in the dark—but he didn’t want to watch Levi and Ashley flirting it up, either. He could go back to the resort and find Laney, but he didn’t have Levi’s smooth charm or way with words.

No. He was empty. Lonely. Itching for the next fight, the next mission. As he watched Levi and Ashley bickering amiably, giving each other a hard time, part of him wanted that. Sure, they drove each other crazy, but they did it together. Lonely wasn’t on their agenda. All he had to offer Laney was a few nights of sex, however, and that was a different kind of crazy.

He got on the radio for their coded transmission while the rest of the team continued ribbing Ashley. But when Gray signed off, the team suddenly fell silent, looking at him expectantly.

“We’re getting yanked,” Levi joked. “Or, better yet, instead of camping out here in the jungle, we’ve got a week’s shore leave and a reservation at the resort. I’ve seen the food they’re serving.”

Levi’s sweet tooth was notorious. The man always packed Snickers bars in his bugout bag.

“We’ve got movement on our target. He’s under way.”

Marcos spent the majority of his time holed up in a jungle compound in the Belizean mountains. The place was a fortress. A well-placed sniper might also have stood a chance of getting off a shot, or the team could have mined the road in and detonated a lifetime supply of C4 underneath Marcos’s Humvee, except the man was cautious and rarely moved out in the open. Learning that he intended to come here had been a piece of intel that had taken Ashley’s team eighteen months to acquire.

Levi cursed. “Define movement .”

Gray knew how his comrade felt. “Marcos will be here in eight days instead of ten. His advance team hits the ground in four. We need to take them down fast, as soon as they arrive. And since we’re looking to capture Marcos, not kill, we’re going to report back as his guys and make sure he feels safe to land.”

“A challenge.” Mason didn’t sound as if he minded. Instead, he had a thoughtful look on his face as he pondered the logistics of a quick, nonlethal takedown on an island that was too small for roads or runways. There were nods of understanding from around the circle. The FBI had a long list of questions for Marcos, and a dead man didn’t do any talking. If the mission went according to plan, however, they’d take down Marcos and then have a week to interrogate him before any of his associates realized he’d been compromised.

“Is the advance party inbound by air or water?” Levi asked.

Gray didn’t hesitate. “Two helos, both of which are scheduled to be met by the resort’s jeeps. We’ll put SEALs into the driver’s seats. Marcos will be told his advance team is securing the resort. We need to minimize the risk to the island’s civilians. Thoughts?”

Ashley picked up the ball and ran with it. Gray was fairly certain there wasn’t anything the woman didn’t know. “It’s low season and the resort is running at about thirty percent of capacity. There are twenty bungalows. Six are occupied, but three of us are singletons. Eight guests are currently in house.”

Good. Fantasy Island would be clear before Marcos made his grand appearance. If Monday’s arrivals vacated in a week, that meant Laney Parker would be okay and not in the line of fire. She hadn’t signed up for this particular battle, and he wouldn’t pitchfork her into the middle of it.

As the meeting wrapped, Gray did a last inventory of his team. They were ready, but that had never been in doubt. Despite the teasing and good-natured bickering, every man there would lay down his life for the team. They were organized, well trained and efficient as hell. Marcos wouldn’t know what had hit him.

When Ashley stepped past him, however, he snagged her wrist. “I’ve got a question.”

“Anytime.” She dropped onto the pile of duffel bags next to him. “Ask away.”

“You ever heard of a cocktail menu? A special one?” He took a shot in the dark, because Laney’s tone had held a certain something. He needed to know what she’d really meant.

Ashley laughed. “So you’ve heard about the infamous drinks menu?”

“Give me details.” The way she was smiling, he was in trouble. He definitely didn’t know enough.

“Well, the next time you boys decide to go undercover at a resort, you might want to pick one that doesn’t specialize in kinky sex.”

“I’ll give my boss a heads-up,” he said dryly. “I hadn’t planned on having kinky sex on this mission.”

Absolutely not. Hell, even plain old vanilla sex was pretty much off-limits. While there weren’t hard-and-fast rules about personal activities while undercover, bedding a civilian who could blow his cover was definitely pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize the mission.

Or Laney’s life.

“Maybe you should rethink your position.” She elbowed him, eyes twinkling at the pun. “Because apparently the resort staff can be more than a little adventurous, as can the guests. The names of the drinks are code for various fantasies you might want to act out. It’s all secret and hush-hush, a way for guests to discreetly communicate their desires to each other.”

Fantasies about sex. That sounded pretty damn erotic, but he’d seen how other people’s kinks played out when he’d worked undercover as a biker. M-Breed’s members had engaged in frequent sex, often public, and never nice. On the pool table, up against the wall, in a bathroom stall. Take your pick, do whatever the hell you wanted to do. Gray had managed to avoid the gang’s groupies, because no way he wanted a woman who was into him only for the drugs or position she thought accompanied sleeping with him. His fantasies were different.

He frowned. “How did she know about the menu?”

Ashley raised a brow. “Which she on this island propositioned you? And did you turn her down flat or take her up on it and she shocked your delicate sensibilities?”

“I gave one of the guests a massage,” he said gruffly. “She said something to me at the end.”

Ashley whistled. “You must give a really good massage. Give me a name.”

“Laney Parker.” Why was he so reluctant to give up her name?

“She was your client? In that case, I may have told her about it.”

“And how come I wasn’t informed?”

Ashley winked at him. “I didn’t think you’d be interested. Not your kind of scene.”

He wondered when he’d started coming across as uninterested in sex.

“I don’t like surprises,” he said. Although he’d definitely liked Laney. If he’d known what she was asking him, he would have followed up. He definitely wouldn’t have let her run off on him.