SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (108 page)

Humor danced in his eyes. “Well, you
did
try to lure me into bed within hours of meeting me…”

“That was just a test,” she answered in a prim voice. “To see if you were a manwhore. Guess what—you passed.”

He chuckled before going somber again. “Six months, though…”

“The time will fly by, just you watch.” Her tone was flippant, but the thought of having no contact with him for that long
was
a tad upsetting. “Will we be able to email? Skype?”

“As often as I can,” he promised.

“Can I email you sexy pictures?”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

Jill laughed. “Okay, but make sure none of your teammates see them. Especially Duke. I don’t trust him not to send out a naked email blast of me.”

Shane’s eyes darkened ominously. “If Donovan ever tried to look at a naked picture of you, I’d rip his balls off.”

“Ooooh, look at you, Mr. Possessive. Down, boy.” She grasped the front of his shirt, bunching it up between her fingers to pull him closer. “Now will you kiss me already? This reunion can’t be official until your tongue is inside my mouth.”

“I like the way you operate,” Shane said solemnly.

And then he thrust his fingers in her hair and put his tongue exactly where she wanted it.

‡

Six Months Later

From: (undisclosed sender)

To: [email protected]

Subject: (none)

I miss you. I love you. I’m coming home.

Jill smiled as she read Shane’s email. It was only three short sentences, yet the way her heart soared, you’d think he’d penned a ten-page love letter in elaborate calligraphy.

She’d waited six long months for this day.

Six months of constant emails interspersed with weeks of radio silence.

Six months of rare Skype sessions that somehow always involved her top coming off.

Six months of prayers for Shane’s safety, and six months of relief each time he checked in to let her know he was all right.

And now her man was finally coming home.

“Jill, Vincent needs you,” one of her waiters called as he hurried by with a tray of wine glasses. “He’s in the kitchen.”

She glanced around the restaurant for a moment, happily noting that every table was filled even though it was only six o’clock on a Monday. The sounds of clinking silverware, classical music and low voices wafted through the room, but Jill tuned it all out as she typed a quick response into her phone.

I miss you. I love you. I’ll be waiting.

The End

If you enjoyed Shane and Jill’s story, read the
Out of Uniform
series that started it all… The first book,
Heat of the Moment
, is currently
FREE
at all retailers.

Check out Elle’s other bestselling series:

Killer Instincts

Off-Campus

After Hours

DreamMakers (with Vivian Arend)

More Elle Kennedy erotic contemporary and romantic suspense titles available on Elle’s
website
.

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newsletter
.

A
New York Times
,
USA Today
and
Wall Street Journal
bestselling author, Elle Kennedy grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, Ontario, and holds a BA in English from York University. From an early age, she knew she wanted to be a writer and actively began pursuing that dream when she was a teenager. She loves strong heroines and sexy alpha heroes, and just enough heat and danger to keep things interesting!

Elle loves to hear from her readers. Visit her website
www.ellekennedy.com
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(@ElleKennedy).

An Uncharted SEALs story

Delilah Devlin

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Ex-SEAL Jackson Keller’s first mission with the Charter Group’s spec ops unit is a bust. Instead of capturing a drug lord in his Mexican compound, he finds a beautiful, naked woman. But she may have information they need to nail the narco-terrorist, so he takes her, sealing his fate. She’s his to watch, his to “manage” until the op’s done.

Suri McAnally’s made some mistakes—mainly trusting her college roomie who just so happens to be the son of one of Mexico’s most dangerous drug lords. If Jackson can save her, she’ll do whatever he says, mirror his moves, and try to keep her insta-lust under control. Her next breath depends on it.

As a retired member of the armed forces (Army Signal Corp and a veteran of the Gulf War), whose sister, brother and father also served, I’m well aware of the sacrifices our military members and their families make in defense of our country. To the men and women of the United States military—formerly and currently serving—thank you for your service. This book is dedicated to you.

If you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retail site or simply tell a friend.

Sincerely,

Delilah Devlin

‡

A
s the last
man dropped to the ground inside the compound, Jackson Keller glanced around, confirming what the first man over the wall had whispered on the radio.

This mission looked like a complete FUBAR—Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

The compound deep in the Sierra Madres echoed like the hold of an empty ship. Scraps of paper whispering on the flagstones, and the whistling wind that pushed them along, made the only sounds inside the ten-foot-tall stucco walls as his team continued to stealthily infiltrate the drug lord’s family home.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he whispered into his mike. “Watch for tripwires, booby traps.” Not that he expected them. Diego Guzman wouldn’t like to come back to a shell of a home.

The moon was blanketed by thick clouds. A security light on a tall pole provided the only illumination. Not a light shone in the windows of the mansion facing the deep valley. From the debris littering the ground and the fact satellite had shown that not two hours ago the cobblestone parking area had been filled with SUVs, Jackson knew the compound had been abandoned in a hurry. Still, his team would have to clear it room-by-room on the off-chance they scored any intel to give them Diego Guzman’s current whereabouts.

The team spread out, taking up their predetermined positions around the main house. Along with Deke and the team members who’d penetrate the front entrance, Jackson ran up the steps of the veranda and pressed his back against the wall next to the massive, oaken front door and pointed at Deke, telling him silently he’d be the first to breach. He waited as Deke tried the door handle. The latch lowered.

Deke took cover against the wall opposite Jackson, quickly pushed in the door, and ducked back a moment in case it had been booby-trapped. Nothing. He stepped inside.

Jackson followed, his weapon raised, his gaze turning to the living room he passed, his night-vision goggles taking in the rich furnishings drugs, kidnappings, and extortion had bought. A plush sectional that would have filled his whole apartment, a large-screen television that covered an entire wall, a well-stocked bar. He continued through the foyer toward the stairs. Everyone had their task—he and Deke would search the upstairs bedrooms, the rest of the team would spread out to cover the ground floor.

Following Deke, he climbed the staircase with its ornate, wrought-iron balustrade.

Deke paused at the top of the stairs and headed to the right.

Jackson took the left. In his ear, he heard his team announce, “Clear… Clear… Clear,” as they searched below stairs. He tried the first door, opening it, leaning away then peering around the corner before stepping inside. Quickly, he checked closets, the bathroom, then under the bed. “Clear.”

He checked another room then went to the next door. Inside, moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains. Circling the room, he ducked into the bathroom to the right, checked the shower stall, the linen closet, and then quickly reentered the bedroom, heading toward a large, king-size bed with a canopy and more panels of thin lace. He pushed aside the curtain with the nozzle of his weapon and froze. A figure huddled with her back against the headboard, a sheet pulled up to cover her breasts. A manacle attached to a chain encircled one wrist.

Jackson flipped up his goggles, pulled his flashlight from his utility belt, and shone the light over the woman.

Wildly curly, matted blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders. Large eyes narrowed against the harsh beam, but even with her features scrunched as she moved as far from him as the chain would allow, he could tell she was beautiful.

Into his mike, he said, “Second floor, bedroom on the east end; I’m gonna need a translator.”

The woman frowned. “I speak English.”

Accentless English. American. And in a voice that was slightly husky. “Cancel that. But we have a live one. Deke, you clear the rest of the bedrooms.”

“Roger that.”

Jackson kept the light on the woman. “Mac, check the junction box. Jave, bring in the dog. Make sure this place isn’t wired to blow. Then let’s light up the place. Search it.”

“What about the prisoner?” Deke said, stepping into the room behind him. “Need help bringing him out?”

“What about it,
ma’am
?” Jackson said, keeping his voice even. “Will you give me any trouble?”

She swallowed, but lifted her chin. “Depends on who you are.”

“Name’s Jackson Keller, and I’m with Charter Group.”

Her eyebrows lifted in question.

“I’m an ex-Navy SEAL, ma’am. So’s most of my team.”

“And that just means you know more ways to kill someone than the average criminal.”

Jackson grunted, surprised by her grit. “We’re a spec ops company, contracted by the U.S. government. Strictly legal.”

“And I’m to take your word on it?”

Jackson gave her a steady stare. “Seeing as you’re chained to a bed in Diego Guzman’s house, I’d say you don’t have much room to complain.”

Her chin lifted higher. “I’m not here by my choice.”

Her words bit like pellets. Her tone was bitter. Jackson’s heart stilled. “Were you kidnapped, ma’am?”

She nodded. “Yes, out of my apartment in Austin three days ago.”

Jackson kept his expression neutral although inside he seethed. “Were you molested? Do you need medical attention?”

She rolled her eyes. “I need the handcuff gone and for someone to find me some clothes.” Her mouth trembled but her gaze remained level, if still squinting at the light.

In his ear, he heard Mac. “No bombs, Jax. House is clear.”

In the next moment, the lights went on in the bedroom.

Deke came up beside him, staring at the disheveled woman cloaked by a pink satin sheet. The entire room looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie: cream walls and furniture, pale pink carpet and a bedspread patterned with pink roses. Despite her nudity and the suspicion darkening her very blue eyes, she fit the surroundings—opulent, soft pearl skin, hair the color of light honey. Although now, he thought maybe she’d been cuffed straight out of the shower because the sun streaked blonde hair was matted and hadn’t been brushed.

With her free hand, she pulled the edge of the sheet to just under her chin.

Knowing he’d stared too long, Jackson cleared his throat. “Before I can approach the bed and unlock those cuffs, I’ll need you to lower the sheet.”

Her fist tightened. “The hell I will.”