Conceit (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 1) (12 page)

His eyebrows lifted, but his calm face didn’t react to Grant’s lie. These men were used to covering for each other. “Nah, I’m a tattoo artist. My brother has a shop.” He leaned into me; his alcohol-spiked breath blew hot on my neck. “Man, you’re a knockout. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

I scanned the room, but Grant had vanished. And so had the girl I’d seen earlier. Did he know her? “I work at Panthers. I saw you other night when you came in together with Grant.”

He laughed and placed his hand on my upper thigh, squeezing my skin so tight I was sure he had left a mark. “No, baby. Not then. You’re a porn star, aren’t you?”

I pressed my hands against my stomach. Where was Grant? Why was he taking so long? In all the time I dated him as Mia, not one of his Teammates ever so much as winked at me. They knew the rules—a Team guy’s woman was off-limits—no exceptions. But I wasn’t Grant’s woman anymore. I was a stripper. Not an equal partner, a mere possession. Did he intend to pass me around to his friends?

“No, I am not in those type of the movies. Sorry, you are wrong.”

His grip tightened on my jean skirt. “I’m never mistaken, bitch. I’ve fucking seen you somewhere before. Maybe I’ve even fucked you.” His finger moved up my thigh and hooked the lace trim on my panties. “Quit the virgin act. Go dance for me or something.” His words shot off like rapid fire, and he forced my hand against his cock.

I considered screaming, but the blaring music would’ve drowned out my voice. What was wrong with this man? With all these arrogant sons of bitches? I was in some alternate bizarro reality, where these men I’d always looked up to as honorable, steadfast heroes of character were exposing themselves to be misogynistic pricks.

But I knew this asshole from all of April’s late night, tearful phone calls. Mitch loved a challenge; I was just shocked at how disrespectful he was toward me. I squeezed him hard, his cock already rock solid in his jeans. “Ah, you are right. We did fuck. But you did not last. Better luck to you next time.”

His mouth raped mine, and I was too blindsided to resist. My lips numbed; a bitter, metallic taste filled my mouth.

Holy shit! Mitch was high as a hot air balloon.
Was it cocaine? I’d heard about some SEALs in Aruba who were arrested for smuggling kilos of coke. Was this connected to Tiffany and Joaquín?

I shoved his hands off me, recoiling from his touch. The last time I’d felt this disgusted had been that night years ago, when I’d been young and careless—the night that I had ruined my relationship with Grant forever.

He laughed and knocked back his beer. “I like you. You’re a feisty bitch. Most of the strippers here don’t put up a fight. You’re a wildcat. Tell you what, when Grant gets sick of you in a few weeks, which he will, you can come suck me off. Let me get your number.” He took out his phone.

I steadied my nerves, desperate not to screw this chance up. “Let me put it in your phone.”

He didn’t hesitate to hand it to me. He scanned the room for Grant, and I knew I had to be quick. I stroked my long hair while his eyes were averted and I popped the tracing chip, which Roma had given me, from my hair clip. As I typed my contact info into Mitch’s phone, I pressed the chip in the back under the leather case, praying it would work.

I handed him back the phone, and he winked at me. What a creeper. I wanted to shove my fist up his coke-filled nose, but before I could do anything Grant appeared, holding my drink, a jealous scowl on his face. I fought the desire to dump vodka and cranberry juice over Mitch’s head. For all I knew, that chip could lead to texts, phone numbers, some type of clue about what had happened that night. Maybe he’d come on to Tiffany after Joaquín had slept with her, and she had rejected him. He could’ve become pissed off and choked her.

“Everything okay here?” Grant studied my lips, then glared at the lipstick stain on Mitch’s face.

“Never better. Hey, man”—Mitch sniffled—“I’m pretty fucked up. You guys gonna fuck upstairs? Can I watch?”

I expected Grant to just laugh it off. But he shoved Mitch against the wall using a chokehold.

“You have ten seconds to unfuck yourself, Mitch. If you ever talk to her like that again, I’ll slit your throat. Got it?”

The rancor alerted some of the other guys, but none of them approached Grant and Mitch. “Relax, man. She’s a fucking stripper.”

Grant removed his hand from Mitch’s neck. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Mitch let out a laugh and walked away.

“Sorry about that, babe. He’s a jerk. You okay?”

I blinked back fake tears. “Yes. Thank you. Is there a bathroom?”

He pointed upstairs. “First door on the left.”

“I come right back.”

Away from Grant, I let out a deep, gratifying sigh. This was actually working. No one knew who I was.

I pushed back the door to the bathroom and saw the girl Grant was looking at earlier. She seemed younger than me, maybe not even twenty. A crisp blond bob framed her round cheeks as she reapplied pink lipstick.

“Oh sorry, I can come back.” I turned away.

“Hey, hon. It’s okay. So you’re Grant’s new girl? I’m Autumn. I used to work at Panthers. Grant’s a good guy.”

My eyes widened. “I’m Ksenya. You know Grant?”

“Yeah.” She paused, glanced toward the window. “We hung out once at another party. But things got crazy. There was this murder. I’m sure you read about it in the papers.”

My breath stopped.
She was there.
“I’m new to area.”

“A SEAL killed one of the girls there. I was so scared. Grant and I were in the next room when this guy Joaquín found the girl dead. So tragic. Grant hasn’t told you about it?”

“No. We do not know each other so well.”

“I get it. Well, good luck with him.”

“Thank you.” My mind raced. I need to grill this girl, find out every detail about that night. But I had to get her away from this party—away from Grant. “What do you do now for work?”

Her mouth twisted. “I work at this new club downtown, Diamond. It’s very high-end, very classy. We don’t even go topless. Guys respect you way more. I’m sure the owner would love to have you. You’re a knockout.”

I couldn’t tell if she was just super friendly or she was hitting on me. Either way, I didn’t care. I couldn’t let her go. “So are you. Can I get it your number and I can go to see it the place?” I reached inside my purse.

She snatched my phone from my hand, didn’t say a word, and tapped in her number.

“Call me anytime. Nice to meet you, Ksenya.”

She shut the door. Holy shit. This was huge. I bet some of the other strippers who were at the party that night worked at Diamond. Maybe even Emma? I was getting closer to the truth, to Tiffany’s real killer.

I scrubbed Mitch’s touch off of me and met Grant back downstairs.

“Babe, come to the rooftop deck with me. I want to show you something.”

I kissed Grant on the cheek, grateful to him for inviting me to this party. His sharp stubble burned my lips. A warm flush ran through my body, imagining that stubble grazing my thighs.

I followed him upstairs—a light giggle, a deep moan, and a passionate scream pierced my ears. Was he taking me up to one of these hidden rooms? My palms were sweaty, my hands trembled.

We passed the bedrooms, and he led me out to a small deck.

My heart stopped. I knew what he wanted to show me.

“Sit, babe. Make a wish.”

A wish. Grant had brought me up here to watch the sunset. To see the Green Flash.

The Green Flash wasn’t a myth, or even an optical illusion. If you ever sat on a San Diego beach at sunset and noticed a group of people staring silently in the same direction, they were looking for the Green Flash. That moment when the sun set and emitted that last glimpse of light, a flash the color of the Emerald City in Oz.

Grant pulled me to him, and I sat in his lap. His arms wrapped around me. “Babe, study the sky. Legend has it if you see a flash of green light, your wish will come true.”

Was he feeling a real connection with me or did he share this with all of his dates? It took every ounce of training I had not to question him. I wanted to know how many other women he’d shown the flash too. He’d taken me to a restaurant on this same beach on our first date, but I’d been unable to spot the flash. My eyes had been clouded by my love for him, the sadness for my parents’ death still fresh in my heart. We’d planned to go back and see it together for our second anniversary, but we broke up a week before. Tonight I vowed I would finally see it.

I made my unspoken wish. My throat felt thick, my pulse quickened. I wished for Joaquín to be free, as a good sister should. But a brief wish passed through my head for Grant to forgive me and for us to fall in love again.

His arms tightened around me and I studied the fogless sky, determined to experience this phenomena with my true love. The hues from the sunset hung over the horizon, the sun dipped toward the water. Every nerve ending tingled and stirred inside me. My eyes focused, the final ray of light beamed right at me. My heart beat strongly in my chest. This glorious green spark filled my soul.

Grant whispered into my ear. “That was it, babe. This writer Jules Verne described it as ‘the true green of hope.’”

Oh my God. He was quoting Jules Verne now? “You are so romantic to me.”

His shoulders fell. “You just seem to have so much on your mind. I’ve gone through some rough shit too. When I’m really down, I look at the sunset and the flash pulls me through.”

A chill pulsed through my body. I remembered that Grant told me that during BUD/S looking for the flash had kept his determination not to quit strong. I remembered nursing him back to health afterward, so proud of him and my brother for finishing. Surviving five and a half days of extreme training on less than four hours of sleep was still unfathomable to me, though I had gone through my own version of Hell Week to get here.

After taking care of him then, I’m sure he was baffled why I left him when he had been injured. But I could never tell him the truth.

My resistance to Grant was weakening, despite my disgust for this new version of him. I loved the real Grant, knew now I always would. He was the only man I ever wanted to be with—if I couldn’t find my way back to him, I’d rather be alone.

I relaxed into his embrace. Having his warm mouth claim mine would be even better than finally seeing the flash. We’d kissed at the hotel, but I’d pulled away, worried, a deep longing kiss would be too intimate, too risky. But now…

He held my hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yes. I want to go together with you.”

I texted the girls I had brought, and they all told me they could find rides home. Grant and I would be alone tonight.

***

THE ENTIRE DRIVE BACK TO his apartment, I bit my nails and fidgeted in my seat. There was no going back now. The natural progression of our relationship beckoned for us to become intimate. I wanted him to act out all the fantasies I’d ever had about him. Only the thought of him discovering my identity held me back.

Images rushed my head of our tame sex life. Warm, gentle, loving, definitely not hot. He’d been my first, my only. I’d never allowed myself to relax, exhale, let pleasure guide me.

Tonight would be different. I was no longer a shy eighteen-year-old virgin—I was now a twenty-two-year-old woman who feared nothing but failing her brother.