A SEAL to Save Her (13 page)

“What?” She threw him a shocked glance and rage exploded in Dex. He clenched his hands at his sides at this news. Someone was going to freaking pay for this. “Why?” she asked.

“There's only one thing I can think of that he's doing that may cause someone to worry about anyone digging deeper.”

“What?”

“He's never been happy with the result of the police report regarding the accident that killed Brad. He hired a PI to look into it.” Dex heard some papers shuffling. “Doug Utley.” Edward rattled off a number. “As of right now, Mr. Utley's following some leads. It just worries me that as soon as Tyler starts digging, he gets ambushed. NCIS said that insurgent attack was faked and they were there to finish Tyler off and take you out, too.”

“Because of the accident?”

“What else could it be?”

She rubbed at her forehead, her voice angry. “I don't know, but we have to figure it out. Until we do, I'm not safe.”

“Who are you with? That navy SEAL, Tyler's friend and leader?”

“Yes, his name is Dex.”

“Thank you, Dex. I'm sure you're listening. I owe you, man, for saving my sister. Now it's best for you to come home. I took leave and I'm at the mansion. We'll get you protection.”

Dex grabbed the phone. “That would be a bonehead move.”

“You do realize, Lieutenant, I'm a trained government bodyguard. I can take care of my sister.”

“I don't give a damn. Piper is safer with me. It's too risky because of the DS connection,” Dex said flatly.

She took the phone back with a glare. “Edward, Dex is right. I'd be safer off the grid. I can't really trust anyone right now.”

“Not even me?” He sounded hurt, but Dex didn't care. This was about a lot more than a trust between brother and sister. He couldn't protect her like Dex could.

Dex said, “No,” and she shushed him.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, but they'll be watching everyone I'm close to. Here's my number.”

“Got it. And maybe you're right, but, sis, I was out of my mind with worry when you disappeared five days ago, so forgive me for being overprotective.” He sounded frustrated and Dex didn't doubt he loved Piper, but she was sticking close to him.

“I forgive you,” she said, her voice softening.

“Keep me in the loop and updated. I'd like to know my baby sister is alive and well. Let me know if I can help.”

“I will. Bye, Edward. I love you.” She ended the call.

“So this is about that car accident.” There had to be something there. Something someone was trying to cover up or... He didn't want to mention to Piper at this time that her husband could have been involved in something shady, too. This was Washington, DC, and there was plenty of money and power to be had here. Maybe Brad Jones had wanted more and it had gotten him killed. “What do you remember about it?”

“Not much. I've tried to block it out, Dex,” she said as he pulled her out of the small room and back outside. He clasped her hand and crossed the street. “I've had dreams about it.” She blushed and he knew she was remembering the first time they made love right after he'd woken her up when she was having a nightmare. She had been reliving the accident. “But I can't be sure what I'm dreaming is real or an illusion.”

His cell phone rang and he fished it out of his back jeans pocket. His father said, “Son, I've got everything delivered to the safe house. It's in the mailbox. It's gated, but you shouldn't have any problems. The key code to the gate is in there, too.”

“Thanks, Dad. Stay alert and keep me posted.” Dex ended the call. “Let's get to the safe house, get something to eat and some rest. We'll need to break all this down, get in touch with your brother's PI and put the pieces together.”

She nodded.

Whoever was after Piper was going to rue the day they attacked her. He was beyond livid that someone had gotten their secret op info, kidnapped marines and killed and wounded his men, not to mention maybe ruining Tyler's promising SEAL career. Those people were going to pay, and he wouldn't rest until he unearthed each and every one of them and neutralized this threat to Piper, regardless of the means. Even if it was the deadly force of one pissed-off SEAL.

Stephen J. Montgomery's Office, The Montgomery Group, New Jersey Avenue, NW, Washington, DC

Stephen Montgomery sat looking out the penthouse office straight down New Jersey Avenue to the sight of the Capitol Building, nestled among the height of the summer greenery. He'd just gotten off the phone with Edward Keighley.

He'd filled him in that Piper was alive and right here in DC.

Stephen had been one of Edward's father's closest friends, his confidant and golf partner. He'd had his fingers in the political pie for some time with the innovations and government contracts he'd procured through his “contacts.” He'd watched Edward, Piper and Tyler grow from small children to adolescents with their braces, get involved in soccer games and Scouts and through their teen years and college years. He attended Brad and Piper's wedding, had been there when Edward's wife had died of cancer and when Tyler had chucked the whole political thing and gone into the navy. He'd been there when both of their parents died.

There had been plenty of times when Piper's father, Randolph, had given him inside information, stating that
Business was business
. Sometimes it was ugly, sometimes it was messy and sometimes it was downright...deadly. He'd used whatever means he had at his disposal to leverage the Montgomery Group into the billion-dollar company it now was. He intended to keep it right where it was.

His phone buzzed and he answered. “Yes.”

“There's a Senator Robert Mullins here to see you, Mr. Montgomery. Should I show him in?”

“Yes, Ms. Collins,” he said, totally curious as to why he was being graced with the presence of the top candidate for the next presidency of the United States. “I'll see him.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Not more than thirty seconds later, his assistant ushered the powerful Mullins through the sleek, glass-block door.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” She stood there waiting for his orders, her dark hair in a neat black bob, her suit even at the end of the day looking as impeccable as it had at six this morning.

“No, thank you. Ms. Collins, you are free to go.” He smiled at her and she nodded.

She closed the double doors on the way out as Robert Mullins took Stephen's hand in a strong clasp for a brief shake.

“Senator, have a seat.” Mullins was tall and imposing, and had the looks and the athletic body of a man half his age. His hair was just the right amount of salt and pepper to instill wisdom and youth, as if he walked that fine line, keeping the balance like a pro. The American public loved him.

The man unbuttoned his lightweight suit jacket and settled in one of the leather chairs in front of the big, imposing mahogany desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think it might be what I can do for you.”

Stephen felt a little tingle of wariness at the base of his neck. This would be a formidable opponent, but a powerful ally. He knew it instinctively, one predator to another, could feel the power of his personality in his gaze, even while he could read nothing of his thoughts.

“Oh. What is that?”

“I have feelers everywhere, Stephen. I know you were involved in Brad Jones's death.”

“I don't know where you're getting your—”

“Does it matter?” Stephen's lips pinched together over what he was going to say. “I thought not. I don't really care why you had him killed, but it served my purposes well. Brad was getting tiresome. I am impressed. You know that family. You're their mentor. Hell, man, you attended their wedding. I have to admire someone who will go to any lengths for power.”

Stephen's smile was thin. “What do you want?”

Mullins smiled his J. R. Ewing smile. “I have a cash flow need. I want the Oval Office and you want that bill dead. The whole fiasco with Outcast has really blown up in your face.” Shock coursed through Stephen. He thought he was being so damned discreet. But it seemed that Mullins wasn't being modest. He really did have what it took to be president and Stephen liked to back winners. “That could be really embarrassing and will likely destroy you and your company if it got out to the press that you hired them to murder navy SEALs and a US senator.”

Apparently a little blackmail wasn't off the playing table. “I'm listening.”

“I'm former CIA. I have the contacts to make this go away, if you make my cash flow problem go away.”

Stephen stood and the senator rose with him. He reached out his hand. “Done.”

Robert Mullins smiled. “Consider this handled.”

He turned and walked out of the office and Stephen looked back out the window. This bill was damaging in several ways. No one in the business world wanted to lose corporate freedom. The cost of reorganizing his company and making it more socially sound was a big cost factor. He tried to talk sense into both Brad and Piper on each occasion. But Brad wouldn't listen and Piper had dedicated herself to carrying out her late husband's wishes.

He had done his best to talk Piper out of taking her late husband's seat for grief purposes, tried to steer her away from the corporate law change, and he'd hated like hell to order her elimination. But Tyler was smart, and when he started looking into the car accident, he couldn't let either of them live. Tyler was supposed to die a hero on the battlefield and Piper had been slated for an overdose. The poor dear couldn't ever get over her husband's and daughter's deaths, but when she impetuously ran off to Afghanistan when Tyler was wounded, he saw a chance to take them both out without anything blowing back at him.

He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what he could and couldn't do. He was the ruler of his empire, had slaved for years to make it a powerhouse in the tech world. He didn't want anyone to diminish his control.

Washington was a cutthroat place to do business and politics were part of a means to an end.

Business was—after all—business. Sometimes it was ugly, sometimes it was messy and sometimes it was downright deadly.

Chapter 12

The Montgomery
Group,
New Jersey Avenue, NW, Washington, DC

R
obert Mullins settled into the Lincoln town car. His assistant sat back in the shadows. “Did he go for it?”

“Hook, line and sinker.”

“As you predicted, the tail lost Kaczewski and Jones downtown.”

“I am surrounded by incompetence.” He ran his hand through his hair. Everything did not go to plan for the first time in his life. He had had a backup, but Hatch bungled it, got himself killed. Who the hell was this navy SEAL? A frigging fly in the ointment. But no one was going to stand between him and his Oval Office chair. No one.

Brad Jones had been a more devious and skilled player than Robert had expected. Encouraging and pretending to support Jones's corporate bill to incite Stephen Montgomery was a calculated risk, but it got Jones out of the picture and Montgomery in his pocket. He didn't really give a damn about the bill, but Montgomery did. Mullins knew Montgomery was a proud man who wouldn't like anyone taking away his power. That would make him do something drastic and then Mullins would get his big payday by blackmailing Montgomery to give him consistent and large donations to his campaign fund—all above board.

A lot of Mullins's constituents wanted that bill dead now. He wanted to keep his backers happy, so he'd put his might behind defeating it. Now that he had Montgomery on the line, it was time to put this bill to bed.

He hadn't anticipated his widow would take up Brad's seat and try to pass it herself. Still, Robert needed to find that evidence Brad had on him, but after eighteen months of searching, he had come up short. Maybe with some prodding, Piper would lead him to it? Hmm. That was a thought. “Give me your cell.” The man handed it over and Robert pressed in a number, then he tapped in the code when prompted.

Five minutes later, as the town car turned onto Constitution Avenue, the cell rang. “Nyx.” A name that was whispered in underworld circles.

“What do you have for me?” The soft voice rasped in Robert's ear.

“You will be sent four pictures in the next fifteen minutes. For the first two pictures, Dexter Kaczewski and Piper Jones, I want them found, terrorized, but don't kill them until I give you the word.”

“Deep-sixing on your command.”

“I want all this done quietly. It would be even better if their bodies were never found.

For the third picture, Jones's brother, Keighley. Make it look like a medication overdose. His whereabouts will be at the bottom of his picture, but take care of the two in DC first.”

“And the fourth picture?”

“A PI. DC is full of violence. Poor Mr. Utley. Just another unsolved street crime.”

“It will be done,” came the chilling response.

Suburbs of Washington, DC

The air-conditioning kicked on and the blinds in the window of the dim room fluttered, the sound intruding on Piper's dream. She came awake and popped up in bed. A bed? For a moment, she was disoriented. Where was she?

It wasn't the DC hospital. Her hand went to her abdomen and she gasped on a soft breath. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing was labored. She felt as if she'd been running. She closed her eyes and then opened them, blinked. An unfamiliar but well-appointed room. Cathedral ceiling with an inordinately beautiful disk in the center, a decorative accent. The bed was comfortable, the headboard a cream tufted leather. Antique end tables with Tiffany lamps.

The safe house. The one Dex had gotten access to from his father. Her head whipped around, but the place beside her was empty.

She pushed the covers off her, realized she was naked and a full blush enveloped her. That black wispy thing hadn't stayed on her long after they had gotten into bed.

Dex...damn. He was so freaking good in bed. She was actually a little sore. The man was rough and she discovered that she liked it very much.

She went to the window and looked out. The pool was right off the bedroom. A small sun room opened out to the pool deck. Dex was in the crystal-blue water, streaking across her sight as he swam laps.

She pressed her hot face to the cool glass. Usually she spent her time after one of those nightmares trying to block out the memories, but now, she wanted to remember what had happened.

Had her husband been murdered? Had someone so callously deliberately run them off the road?

She closed her eyes, her stomach churning. She'd woken to pitch-black, except for the one street lamp that had illuminated her husband's face. His open eyes. The blood running from his nose and ears.

A sudden sweep of dread made her whole body tense and she closed her eyes, feeling sick and shaky.

She'd screamed then, the sound reverberating in her ears. She pressed harder against the glass, trying to remember how the car had been hit. What had happened?

It was no use. It was just a bunch of jumbled memories. Trapped in the car for hours, someone finally coming, firefighters prying open the doors, being barely conscious, the only sensation was blood and fluid sliding down her leg. During the ride in the ambulance, her questions about Brad went unanswered, then at the hospital, the loss of her child confirmed, the news about her husband.

Her throat tight, tears slipped down her cheeks, but she brushed them away and took a deep breath. She went to the closet and found a silk turquoise robe. Shrugging into it, she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the heat and humidity of a Washington, DC, summer.

She stood there for a minute, soaking up the warmth as she felt clammy and cold. She hadn't thought that was possible after the heat, sand and sweat of Afghanistan.

He barely made a ripple; he was all tanned, sleek skin and muscles slicing through the water.

He stopped when he hit the end of the pool and flashed her a grin. She walked to the lip. Looking up at her, he said, “You wanna learn how to swim, cutie?”

She shook her head.

“Ah, come on. The water is really refreshing.” He reached up and tugged on the end of the robe.

She arched a brow and gave him a dry look. “So is coffee.”

He chuckled. “I'll teach you how to blow bubbles and dog paddle.”

He clasped her around the ankle, and even with all the weight of her past and the danger of her present, she huffed out a laugh and said firmly, “Don't you dare. Remember, I know how to handle a weapon.”

His voice dropped an octave and he said, “Yeah, I've experienced that firsthand.”

The man was definitely a sexy tease.

She crouched down, placing her hand on his forehead, and shoved him back into the water. “Go soak your head.”

“You want to be specific about that?” He treaded water like a dolphin. Or was that more like a killer whale?

“You're a very bad man.” She leaned over and used the heel of her palm to splash water at him. He dove like a fish and came up laughing. Then he turned his powerful body and cut through the water again. He sure had been right. The man knew how to swim.

Leaving him to his exercise, she headed to the sliding glass door and the kitchen. Still feeling strung out, she started the coffee. She didn't even want to know what she looked like. She had to pull herself together and talk about the past. It was now overshadowing her future, one she wouldn't have if she didn't figure out who wanted her dead.

That car accident was the key.

Forcing herself to take a calming breath, she went to the fridge and was delighted to see that Dex had been shopping. She reached for a grapefruit and sliced it in half.

The door opened and Dex came in, the stitches still dark and running down his left side. He was dry, except for his hair, which he was rubbing with a towel around his shoulders. From the delicious scent of him, he'd obviously showered and changed into the gray shorts.

He glanced at her, his expression going still. Without saying anything more, he studied her a moment longer, his gaze narrowing, but if he read something in her face, he left it alone. His tone was noncommittal. “Good morning, babe.”

She gave him a warm smile. The soft way he said
babe
curling into a glow in her stomach. She could so get used to domestic life with this man. But this would only be fleeting and in between deployments. She was kidding herself if she thought she could handle that.

“You're up early.”

“I couldn't sleep.”

“You had another nightmare?” he said as he came to her and wrapped her in his arms. He smelled heavenly, citrus and cinnamon. This was what she needed. She leaned into his warmth. She had to get a grip or she'd never make it through the day.

He let her go and she grabbed her half of a grapefruit and coffee and settled at the island. Dex poured himself some coffee, then leaned back against the counter to drink it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes and no,” she admitted, and he came over to the counter. He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She would have thought she'd be over how he affected her. But her heart skipped a beat, her pulse ramping up. She suddenly felt as if she had too much blood in her body. Too much heat. Too heavy a response. She worked at bringing her body under control. Dex had ramped her up from a low-keyed woman to this responsive fireball, all in six days. This had all started out as a simple mission—Dex rescuing her—but all of a sudden it had gone way beyond that.

“I don't remember much.”

“Why don't you tell me what you remember?” He caressed her forearm. Dex was mixing it up and it was hard to deny he had a steadying, calming influence on her now.

He was always so in control, so certain of himself and his abilities. It wasn't arrogance so much as assuredness, and that was powerful stuff for her at the moment. It was hard not to be tempted to lean some more on him. Just a tiny moment more. He was sturdy and strong.

She'd better get the stars out of her eyes and keep her two feet planted squarely on Planet Earth.

She told him the bits and pieces she remembered.

“The police investigated the accident, correct?”

“Yes, and came to the conclusion that Brad just lost control. I checked with them several times.”

“I know that you weren't thinking this back then, but now that you've had some distance and the fact that Tyler was targeted after he hired the PI to look into the accident, do you think someone could have wanted Brad out of the picture enough to kill him?”

That had her looking up. “I—I don't know. I can't think of anything that would be damaging enough to want him dead. He was a senator, for God's sake, not a SEAL.”

“People kill for a variety of reasons, Piper.”

She shivered. In all the times she'd relived that night, over and over again, awake and in endless nightmares, she'd never once contemplated that possibility.

“Honestly, no. I didn't think he was murdered. If I had, I would have pushed much harder to find the person. But now I believe you're right. It can't be a coincidence that both Tyler and I were marked for death right after he started snooping around. When they find us, they're going to kill us.”

He reached out and put his hand on her arm. “Not while I'm still breathing. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

She held his gaze a bit longer, then finally sighed. “I'm lucky you were there.”

“I don't know, Bulldozer. You handled that pretty well. Fought like a wildcat and put a slug into him. That's pretty badass.”

She rolled her eyes. “That would turn you on.” She huddled in her seat. “Okay. What's our next step?” She wasn't used to this, used to someone else having any say in how things were going to be handled. She ran almost everything for Brad and handled all the details. His campaign, his office, his life.

“Come here,” he said, reaching over and tugging on her arm.

“What?”

“You're too far away. This can't be easy for you,” he said, pulling her off the stool and into his arms, so her back rested against his chest. “Much better.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I know this is scary and we don't know who's trying to kill you, but we're going to get out of this.”

Brad was a good husband and they had a good life, but he'd never been this in tune with her needs. She wasn't used to a man recognizing how she was feeling and putting it out there. Being in a political family came with certain requirements. Never do anything you wouldn't want posted on the internet, never show the public any negative emotions and always be professional.

This was so new to her—unburdening herself, trying to reconcile having someone else in the loop instead of being this self-contained, have-it-together senator's wife, and now a senator herself. This overload of sensations with him holding her, caring about her... “I could get used to this,” she murmured, leaning against him.

“Me, too,” he said, tipping her head back so their gazes could meet. “Let's get breakfast and get ourselves something to wear, then we'll contact this PI, Doug Utley, and see where he's at. Sound good?”

She trembled a little, wanted to be strong enough to step away from him and handle letting Brad go on her own. You know...because she'd been doing such a good job up to now. She'd never really dealt with moving on and it was not surprising that she had been marking time for eighteen months. What had she been waiting for? What? For it to get better, for the pain to recede, to finish out Brad's wishes? Dex was opening her eyes to the fact that having someone to lean on didn't just mean physical support, but it meant emotional support, too. She turned in his arms and looped hers around his shoulders. “It does sound good and I
am
eating breakfast.”

He frowned and glanced at the grapefruit on her plate. He shook his head. “That's not breakfast,” he scoffed. “That's juice. Let me show you what a real breakfast is.”