Elle James - Navy Seal Survival

“We shouldn’t be seen together any more than necessary,” Natalie said.

“Why not? We’ve shared a breathing apparatus, a fishing boat and a taxi.”

“Still. If there’s a chance of me being taken rather than one of the other girls, I’d rather it was me.”

Duff touched her cheek. “Again, they might not take you. Since we returned to the cave and those thugs fired at us, I’d say there is a strong possibility they’d shoot you rather than take you as a hostage.”

“How else am I supposed to find where they hid my sister? I can almost bet they won’t tell us if we ask.”

“Then we have to find a way to follow them to where they are hiding your sister and the other girls.”

“The longer she’s missing—”

“We’ll find her.” Duff tipped her chin upward and lowered his lips to hers. “I promise.”

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Table of Contents

Cover

Introduction “We shouldn’t be seen together any more than necessary,” Natalie said. “Why not? We’ve shared a breathing apparatus, a fishing boat and a taxi.” “Still. If there’s a chance of me being taken rather than one of the other girls, I’d rather it was me.” Duff touched her cheek. “Again, they might not take you. Since we returned to the cave and those thugs fired at us, I’d say there is a strong possibility they’d shoot you rather than take you as a hostage.” “How else am I supposed to find where they hid my sister? I can almost bet they won’t tell us if we ask.” “Then we have to find a way to follow them to where they are hiding your sister and the other girls.” “The longer she’s missing—” “We’ll find her.” Duff tipped her chin upward and lowered his lips to hers. “I promise.”

Title Page Navy SEAL Survival Elle James www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author ELLE JAMES , a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or www.ellejames.com .

Dedication This book is dedicated to all those men and women who serve in the armed forces protecting our country and our way of life. Thank you for your dedication and service.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Copyright

ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.netor www.ellejames.com.

This book is dedicated to all those men and women who serve in the armed forces protecting our country and our way of life.

Thank you for your dedication and service.

Chapter One

“This is the life.” Dutton “Duff” Calloway stretched out on the lounge chair beside the pool and closed his eyes.

Sawyer handed Duff a chilled and fruity Pain Killer drink before easing into the chair beside him. “I’m surprised all four of us were granted leave at the same time.” He pulled the colorful miniature umbrella out of a chunk of pineapple and dropped it on the end table between them.

Duff downed a third of the drink. Normally he preferred an ice-cold beer. But the combination of orange juice, pineapple and whatever else went into the icy concoction was refreshing and helped add to the sense of relaxation he’d hoped to find in Cancun, Mexico. “I didn’t look that gift horse in the mouth. I took the leave and ran.”

“Flew,” Sawyer corrected. “Yeah, I wasn’t questioning our luck, either.”

Duff shaded his eyes and stared past the palm trees to the beach beyond. “Where do you suppose Quentin and Montana got off to?”

“They said something about reserving a diving excursion for tomorrow. I told them to sign us up while they were at it.”

Duff closed his eyes and soaked in the warm rays of sunshine. “Sounds good. After our last mission to clean up that terrorist training camp in Honduras, I’m satisfied to just be a bum and let the hotel staff and excursion coordinators do all the work.”

Sawyer crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back, grinning. “Yeah. This is the life.”

Duff’s grin matched Sawyer’s. “No boss, no guns, no terrorists. Just me, my friends and this...” He lifted the Pain Killer. “Now all we need is a good beer.”

“And women,” Sawyer added.

Silently, Duff agreed. How many months had it been since he’d been with one? He sighed. Too many to count.

A giggle sounded at the opposite end of the pool and the tittering of female voices drifted through the balmy air.

Sawyer leaned his head up. “Speak of the devils.”

Life couldn’t get more perfect. Duff swallowed more of the fruity drink.

The gaggle of young ladies appeared to be college-aged, all wearing bikinis and makeup, and carrying beach bags filled with towels and sunscreen.

Duff sighed. “Too young.”

“Hey. We’re not old men, yet.” Sawyer sat up and studied the women as they strolled past their lounge chairs, headed for the beach. “Oh, wait. You are an old man at the ripe old age of thirty.”

“That’s right. And twenty-year-old, vapor-headed women don’t do it for me. I like mine more mature.”

“Here you go.” Sawyer chuckled. “Mature women, three o’clock.”

Two women who couldn’t be a day under fifty strolled by.

Duff nodded. “I bet they know a lot more about passion than the girls headed for the beach.”

“What about her?” Sawyer tipped his head toward the woman who’d just stepped out of the resort building. She wore a one-piece black swimsuit, the front cut in a sharp V down past her navel, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. Pausing for a moment at the door, she slipped sunglasses onto her nose. Then she strode across the concrete, her bare feet tipped in bright red polish.

His pulse quickening, Duff couldn’t take his gaze off her. Now, this was a woman. She couldn’t be much older than the college girls, but she carried herself like a model, placing one foot in front of the other, emphasizing the sway of well-rounded hips. As she passed in front of Duff and Sawyer, Duff’s jaw dropped.

A low whistle from the lounge at his side said it all.