SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood Series Book 3) (2 page)

“You’re joking. You’re not thinking of taking your clothes off in front of this crowd?”

“What kind of protection do I have?” Mia turned and asked the bartender.

The bartender pulled something from under the counter with both hands. He held it just high enough that the girls could see it but not so the other customers could. It was a Mossberg Persuader. Gina hoped the man had some training, or he’d be as likely to kill the dancer as protect her from an overbearing customer.

“You rated on that piece?” Gina asked before she could stop herself.

The bartender scowled. “You got a smart mouth, missy. You got friends in law enforcement or something?”

Gina went rigid. Blowing her cover on the first job in the big leagues was not what she wanted to do. “Hell, no. I thought maybe you were some kind of sick cowboy. I hate guns and what they do to people.” It was true enough for her to follow her comment with a stare she hoped he’d feel all the way to his toes.

The bartender’s hairy arms, covered with tats of naked women, fumbled behind the counter out of sight, replacing the shotgun. He scanned the gang in the corner, as well as some of the customers at the bar.

He was back on Mia. “If I were in your shoes, little one, I’d be wiggling that cute little ass all over the stage and taking home that grand three or four nights a week. Could do a lot for you and the kid. I doubt Caesar will be very good with child support. None of the rest of that lot would be, actually.” He nodded to the corner.

Gina followed his direction and saw the boys taking seats as the music was turned up. All except the tall one with the baseball cap. His arms were crossed as he leaned next to the stage, not bothering to pretend that he wasn’t checking them out, making a clear threat out of his continued slow, insulting perusal. Gina felt her pulse quicken and her hands start to sweat. She was sure the top of her chest was red and blotchy. Her stomach lurched.

The lights dimmed and thankfully, Gina could no longer see the guy’s face, but she still could feel his eyes on her flesh.

A spotlight shone on the bright pink stage curtain. A prerecorded voice announced the first act.

“Put your hands together for the Sensual Shannon and her pot of gold!” the announcer bellowed. Out walked a tall redhead wearing a short, green plaid, pleated skirt. She bent over and exposed her red satin panties.

Movement to their left caught Gina’s eye.

Finally.

Three of the Department’s finest sauntered through the door, followed by a fourth who wore a cap that concealed his face. Everyone was dressed in the black leathers they’d been talking about so much. Thanks to the heavy beat of the music, she’d missed the noise of their Harleys arriving. Devon, the first one in, gave her a wink, and Gina turned her back to them. She heard a low whistle and didn’t want to see who’d done it. She was fairly sure she was blushing.

The bartender was studying her. She knew it was important not to let on she knew them, but she had to admit she was thankful they’d arrived.

A familiar scent crowded close to her right ear. Her body instinctively softened for just a moment before reality set in.

Damn it. Sam.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the last one she’d expected to be on the team.

“I’m remembering all the sheets we tussled in. I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Miss you, hot stuff,” he whispered tenderly, so no one else could hear. A chill went down her spine while she couldn’t help but remember those lost days and nights with him.

She forced herself to stay focused on the mission and what she was there to accomplish. It pissed her off that his casual attitude was throwing a monkey wrench into an already difficult situation, so it wasn’t difficult for her to turn around and slap him. Then she picked up what was left of her drink and threw it in his face. He didn’t move a muscle, but she could see his was furious with her, blinking through the strawberry liquid staining his face and dribbling down his light blue shirt. Little red paper hearts hanging from the ceiling twirled all around him.

The bartender handed him a clean towel and Sam quietly wiped his face, his eyes riveted on Gina.

The rest of the guys whistled, whooped and chuckled. They grouped around the two girls. That’s when Gina figured out the guys had brought him along on purpose to rattle her.

That’s right. I’m outside the network. I got the fuckin’ message.

“You going to introduce me to your friends, Gina?” Mia was giving them long, thirsty looks.

At least that part of the plan was working.

“This one, he has a bad memory. Like the fact that he has a wife,” Gina said jerking her thumb toward Sam, who still lurked behind her. “The rest of them, if they’re his friends, I wouldn’t bother.” She ignored all of them, hoping they’d think twice before deviating from the plan again and fucking trying to upset her. She ordered another drink.

Little Shannon was keeping the boys around the stage busy. She was down to her panties, her kilt and small white schoolgirl blouse discarded on the stage. She swung her long legs around the brass pole, turning, writhing and riding it with her thighs, leaning backwards air-kissing the men closest to the stage.

Not that Carlos was watching. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Gina, and it made her skin crawl.

Sam leaned into the side of her head, carefully. “You’ve drawn the right kind of attention, G-spot.”

Gina’s loathing for the situation flared into anger. “Keep your fuckin’ distance or I’ll have him call the cops.” She shot a glance to Devon as if to say, ‘
What were you thinking?’

The reference to calling the cops was supposed to be the safe signal, but only used in a blown operation. The group got quiet. The bartender spoke up.

“You boys want something, or are you just gonna ogle the customers for free?”

“Yeah, I’m not on stage yet,” Mia turned around, leaning back, to make the most of her lush breasts temptingly exposed by a mostly-unbuttoned black satin blouse. The boys responded appropriately, giving Mia the reaction she wanted.  Sam whistled as he brushed past Gina, making sure that they had a thigh-on-thigh experience on his way to snaking an arm around Mia’s waist.

He thinks he owns me.
She had fallen really hard for him, and fast. That was the part that hurt the most. She’d thrown caution to the wind. No questions, just a couple of nibbling kisses, and
wham
, she couldn’t wait to get naked with him. And because he was a cop, she’d thought she could trust him.

Mia was cooing and enjoying the attention of four really big leather-clad guys. Gina noticed the long looks she gave the corner, like giving the gang the finger. Mia was going to be a big problem when she found out the guys she was getting cozy with were cops.

Little Shannon was really working her buttock muscles, shaking them faster than Gina thought was humanly possible. The dancer backed up closer to the face of one of the front row crowd and Gina felt herself shudder again. The gentleman had his forefinger rubbing up and down Shannon’s rear, as he inserted dollar bills in the lacy string that held her panties together. When the supply of bills dried up, she moved on to the next customer, revealing a little more each time, letting the customers get a little closer, touch a little more inappropriately.

Gina wondered what it would feel like to do that onstage for strange men. Could she do it if it was required? For the good of the mission? She decided the answer was a definite
no.
What difference would it make if you debased yourself for a paycheck from the Department or from a bar?

It was still wrong.

Chapter 2

Navy SEAL Armando Guzman was surprised his sister, Mia, was not answering her phone. That meant she’d lied to him again. Her ‘evening at home with a girlfriend’ meant a trip to a local bar hanging out with the wrong crowd.

So much for the surprise dinner.
He liked to be impromptu with Mia, despite the fact that she accused him of spying on her. Well, yes…that was partially true.

Fredo was his constant companion these days, ever since Fredo’s best friend, SO Calvin Cooper, had gotten himself involved and married to a cute little thing from San Diego. Libby had
encouraged
Cooper to find larger digs, rather than cramming them both into the Babemobile Coop had lived in down by the beach for the past three years. So they were currently house-hunting with the help of his team leader’s wife, Christy Lansdowne, who was the Realtor for all the Team guys these days.

Armando also knew Fredo liked to hang out with him because the Mexican SEAL had the hots for his sister. At first, this had seemed like a bad idea, but Mia’s terminal case of bad judgment kept escalating. Even Armando didn’t think she could go wrong with any one of his Team buddies, but he’d never let on he felt this way. It was sport, needling Fredo to death at every opportunity, since Mia would have nothing to do with him. And the more she rejected him, the harder Fredo tried.

Gotta hand it to him. He’s persistent.
Fredo’s short stature and powerful arms made him the best on the Team in wrestling. In fact, Armando couldn’t remember a match the man had ever lost. The Mexican SEAL’s prominent forehead, ruddy complexion and infamous unibrow did not, however, make him a favorite of the ladies.

“That’s just not something a man should ever do, have his eyebrows tweezed,” he’d told Armando that evening when they’d discussed his lack of love life. Although not as good-looking as some of his buds, Fredo had a heart the size of the ocean they had to swim in on a daily basis. Armando had never had a problem attracting women. Girls lined up for him ever since he was in junior high.

The pair drove to Mia’s house to confirm what Armando feared. Fredo dove from Armando’s Hummer, ran to the garage at the end of a concrete driveway, and quickly returned. “Her car’s not in the garage, Armani.”

“Let’s take the groceries in so they don’t get warm,” Armando said. They’d stopped by the store they called
Whole Wallet
to get some organic steaks and salad fixings to make a meal he knew she wouldn’t prepare for herself. Armando halfway hoped Mia had invited her cute friend Gina over. They’d have some wine, sit out on the patio, and watch the stars come out on this beautiful spring evening in San Diego.

“Where’s the kid?”

“I’m guessing my mom’s.”

Armando had bought the house for Mia recently. He’d also helped her fix up the two-bedroom stucco bungalow into a sweet little home for her and her baby. Mama Guzman had planted flowers that were just now beginning to bloom. They wouldn’t match the psychedelic colors covering Mama Guzman’s yard, but, given time, Mia’s house would have a jungle in front of it, or their mother would die trying.

Buying the house for Mia had given Armando the right to a key, or so he’d told his Team. He promised never to barge in on her when she was entertaining, but tonight was different. She’d gone out of her way to say she wasn’t entertaining a man, and Armando thought some face time with his tempestuous sister was warranted.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, Armando smelled pot. “Shit.”

“Whoa. Can’t believe it.” Fredo said, shaking his head. “That’s a fuckin’ shame.”

“What kind of a mother smokes around her son?” Armando swore.

“Armani, that girl’s got some demons. Wish she’d choose me. I’d exorcise those spirits, love them right outta her.”

Fredo got a sock to the arm that made the bottom of his bag drop out and the salad mix fall to the floor. Luckily the greens remained encased their plastic bags.

“I know you have the best of intentions, but she’s my sister, Fredo.” Armando was more worried for his sister’s state of mind than he liked to show.

“I feel you,” Fredo began. “But while I’m waiting here, holding my dick and trying to be all proper, she’s doing the down and dirty with half the scum of San Diego. And the only reason she’s not with Caesar is that he took that little detour to San Quentin.”

Armando pushed Fredo onto the couch. “That’s enough. Shut the fuck up or I’ll leave you right here.” It didn’t make sense she’d want to go back to that dickwad.

Some day you’re gonna tell me, sis. Who hurt you?
If he could just find out what the problem was, Armando was sure he could cure her of—whatever. It was unacceptable that any sister of his would be throwing her life away like this.

“I’ll happily stay here, Armani. You go chase around and look for her. She’ll come home eventually.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“So ‘splain this to me. You save her life and the life of her baby. You buy her a fuckin’ great house in a good area, you buy her furniture, and you help your mama, too. And she disses you like this? I’m telling you, those demons is not only gettin’ bigger, they’re having babies. What’s next?”

“What’s next is I’m gonna find her, bring her home, and cook her a fuckin’ steak. And you’re gonna be a perfect gentleman, hear?”

“Yessir. I get you.”

After storing the perishables, Armando and Fredo stopped by Fredo’s apartment to pick up his Parks Department four-door beater truck. No sense exposing Armando’s black Hummer to the neighborhood where they’d probably find Mia.

Armando slid onto the torn leather bench seat and examined the contents of the cab behind him. The floor was nearly ankle-high with fast food wrappers and old milkshake and soda containers.

“Some super sleuth you’d make,” Armando said, holding his nose. “All anyone would have to do is sort through all your wrappers and receipts. They could re-create your whereabouts 24/7.”

Fredo rolled his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “Just because you got an obsessive compulsive disorder for specks of dirt, don’t mean you have to insult a normal male with normal eating habits.” Fredo didn’t look back at him.

“That’s not normal,” Armando said with a thumb pointing over his shoulder.

They rounded a corner and the noise of displaced paper cups, balled-up bags and wrappers was unmistakable.