Elle James - Navy Seal To Die For

Becca held up her hand. “I can explain that one. My boss offered to fly us back after all that happened in Cancun.”

“Who the hell do you work for? The president?” the CO asked.

“No, sir,” Becca said. “But my boss has connections in the government. I’m not at liberty to share his identity or the organization for which I work. I’d have to get permission from my boss.”

Commander Jacobs crossed the room and stood toe-to-toe with her.

Becca lifted her chin and stared straight into his eyes, refusing to back down or be cowed by the man who towered over her.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t have the answers to the questions the FAA will have about that aircraft. I suggest you get your boss on the line, ASAP.”

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” She fished hers out of her pocket. “Mine went for a swim with me.”

Quentin chuckled, the sound sending warmth through Becca’s chest.

“Chief Petty Officer Quentin, do you find something funny about this situation?” Commander Jacobs glared at him. “Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“No, sir.” Quentin wiped the smirk off his face and stood at attention.

“Then show this woman to a telephone so that she can call home,” Commander Jacobs snapped.

“On it.” Quentin held out his hand.

Becca took his hand and let him lead her out of the room. Once in the hallway, she asked, “Is he always that cranky?”

“Only when he doesn’t know what’s going on. We should have reported in sooner.”

Quentin led her into an office with a telephone. “Dial 9 to get an outside line. I’ll leave you to it.” He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him.

Alone at last, still damp with swamp water in her hair and clothes, Becca lifted the telephone and dialed 9 and Royce’s cell phone number.

He answered on the first ring. “Yeah.”

“It’s Smith,” she said.

“Smith, what’s going on? The tracking device on the plane blinked out before you were due to land in Mississippi. Is everything all right?”

“No, sir. We think the plane was shot down.” She explained what happened and their subsequent attack by the helicopter. “You might want to be here to explain the private plane and who it belongs to. The FAA and the Department of Homeland Security will be all over what happened.”

“I’m on my way. I should be there early in the morning, if you can hold off the wolves until then.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” Becca said. “When the FAA and DHS are done with us, I’d like to get back to DC and see if I can drum up another lead to follow. Whoever is behind my father’s death could possibly be after me now.”

“You’re probably right. In which case, I need to assign an agent to protect you.”

“I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

“Yes, you do,” a voice said behind her.

Becca spun toward the door.

Quentin stood in the half-opened doorway. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but the CO is getting restless.”

“Becca, is that one of the navy SEALs?” Royce asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“Sir—” Becca hesitated.

“Hand him the phone, Smith,” Royce commanded.

Becca held out the receiver. “My boss wants to talk to you.”

Quentin entered the room, closed the door and raised the receiver to his ear. “Yes, sir.”

Becca strained to hear what her boss was saying to Quentin.

“Chief Petty Officer Quentin Lovett, sir.” He listened for a moment and then smiled. “I’d be happy to. No sir, I’m still on leave for a couple days, if my commander doesn’t cancel it.” He nodded. “I will, sir. No. Thank you.” He handed the receiver to Becca.

She frowned, not liking that Royce hadn’t told her what he wanted to talk to Quentin about. “Sir, I need to get back to the debriefing.”

“Smith, Lovett has offered to be your bodyguard. I want you to stick to him like flypaper.”

“But, sir.”

“No buts. All other agents are assigned at this time.”

“What about Natalie Layne? She could be my bodyguard.”

“She’s not officially on board. I have to bring her back on the payroll before I can assign her.”

“Quentin isn’t on your payroll,” she pointed out.

“No, but he offered to spend his leave taking care of you. Let him.”

“But—”

“I’m on my way. See you in the morning.” A loud click indicated the end of the call. Becca stared at the receiver a moment before replacing it in the cradle.

“Looks like you and I will be together a little longer.”

Becca spun to face him.

The man leaned his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Anger rushed up Becca’s chest, filling her cheeks with heat. “Like hell we are.” She marched up to him. “Move.”

He stepped aside and opened the door. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but in the same room with you.”

He raised his hands. “Hey, your boss asked me to look out for you, not the other way around.”

She stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I don’t care what he said. I have work to do.”

“You heard the commander. No one goes anywhere until the FAA and DHS go through the motions.”

“The sooner the better. And then I’m out of here.”

“Not without me.”

“We’ll see about that.” She marched past him and down the hallway toward the war room. The man was far too infuriating for Becca. He was irritating, persistent and annoying.

In the back of her mind she heard another voice extolling his virtues of bravery, determination and concerned for the welfare of others. She might not be alive if he hadn’t jumped into the alligator-infested swamp after her, or if he hadn’t gone in again to pull their life raft to the shadows of the trees.

Well, damn. Just when she thought she’d get away from him and his band of brothers, she’d been ordered to stay put by her boss. In the morning, when Royce arrived, she’d have to get him to call off the SEAL so that she could get on with her search to find her father’s killer. She didn’t have time to get involved with a sexy SEAL. His broad shoulders and tempting smile were beginning to wear on her. She had to get away before she did something dumb like kiss him.

Chapter Three

Three hours later, after they’d answered what questions they could for the FAA, DHS, county sheriff, state police and everyone else who could possibly be involved, they were finally allowed to leave the base.

Quentin needed a shower. He smelled like swamp water and, despite his discomfort, he was hungry. He could imagine Becca felt the same. Her anger seemed to have dissipated as the day wore into evening.

“Some of us are headed to the Shoot the Bull Bar for a beer. Are you coming?” Jace asked.

Quentin shook his head. “I need a shower and a gallon of coffee, not booze.”

Becca rose from the conference table and stretched. Even in a swamp-water-dingy white blouse and wrinkled trousers, her dark hair in funky disarray, she was a beauty.

His groin tightened at the thought he would be spending the night in the same building as her, possibly the same room.

Rip entered the war room and handed Quentin a cup of coffee. “I’m headed to the bar, but I can drop you at your apartment on the way.”

“You are a lifesaver.” Quentin wrapped his hand around the cup and inhaled the fragrant scent. “And yes, I’ll take you up on that ride as soon as I convince Becca she’s coming with us.”

Rip grinned. “Did you score in Cancun?”

Quentin winced when Becca joined them at that exact moment. “No, he did not score, nor will he. If you don’t mind, could you drop me at a hotel?”

“Sure,” Rip responded.