Before We Kiss (Uncharted SEALs Book 6) Page 2

  “This has to be quick,” Wiley said, under his breath.

  Joe nodded but didn’t look back. Using Joe’s body to hide his blow gun, Wiley slowly brought it up over Joe’s shoulder and aimed for the back of the bandito standing next to Poppy.

  The dart struck his right arm. He made a sound, a sharp cry.

  Poppy looked downward, her gaze widening on the dart. She stumbled into his arm, as though shielding the sight from the last bandit still standing.

  The man in front of her scowled, but the moment the one beside Poppy began to crumple, he raised his weapon.

  Wiley shoved Joe out of the way, swept out his arms to get between the people in front of him, and dove for Poppy, all the while praying “Clipboard Man” had more than a damn pen to take out the bastard.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Poppy slammed into the ground, crushed from above by a huge man wearing a cowboy hat. Unable to suck in a breath, she closed her eyes, expecting gunfire to erupt, but it never happened.

  Instead, cheers rang out as the sounds of scuffling came to a halt.

  “We’ve got it handled,” came a gruff voice from above.

  Poppy peered beyond her rescuer’s shoulder to find an elderly man standing over them.

  As the cowboy who rested against her came up on his elbows, she tried to drag in a deep breath but realized she couldn’t. He’d knocked the breath out of her. She balled her fist and hit his chest.

  His dark brows drew together in a ferocious scowl when he noted her distress. “Can’t breathe?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble.

  She nodded, panic starting to set in.

  He leaned closer, pinched her nostrils together then sealed his mouth over hers and blew.

  Her chest expanded. His fingers let go of her nose, and she drew a deep breath through her nostrils, and then another, before realizing his mouth still pressed against hers.

  Their gazes locked, and he slowly drew back his head.

  She wheezed, her breaths ragged, and wondered why she wasn’t still hitting him. “That wasn’t necessary,” she gasped.

  “I know,” he said, with a wicked waggle of his eyebrows.

  “My diaphragm was only temporarily paralyzed. As soon as I relaxed, my breath would have come back.”

  “I was only helping you relax,” he drawled.

  Then she remembered the thin dart that had dangled from one of her assailant’s arms before he’d dropped like a rock to the pavement. “Was that your dart?”

  The man above her arched a brow. “What dart?”

  “The one that…” She glanced beside her to the body lying in repose on the road. No dart protruded from his arm. She frowned. “I know what I saw…”

  “Things happened fast.”

  Poppy narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?” She angled her head to give him a blistering glare. “Did Daddy send you?”

  A throat cleared beside them. Again, the elderly man with the burly build loomed over them. “My grandson bothering you, miss?”

  The other passengers crowded closer. The two security officers the cruise line had assigned were busy using zip ties the driver held out to bind the feet and hands of the still-sleeping bandits. But the passengers were whispering among themselves, their gazes locked on her and the man in the cowboy hat.

  All she needed was for one of them to snap a picture of her lying on the ground, a big man with a lazy grin pinning her there, and her father would have a conniption. “Can you move? I don’t think I’m in any danger now.”

  Mike Espinoza, the security guard who’d been at her elbow ever since they’d left the ship, stepped into view just as her rescuer climbed off. Mike extended a hand to help her up. “You okay, Miss Shackleford?”

  No doubt she was bruised, scraped, and dirty, but she counted herself lucky. She’d understood enough of the conversation between the bandits and whoever was on the other end of the phone to know she’d barely escaped a kidnapping for ransom. “I’m fine.”

  “Unfortunately, this excursion is at its end.” Mike turned to the driver and handed him the bag of stolen wallets and jewelry. “You get everyone aboard the bus and then have one of the passengers return the stolen items. We’ll move the truck out of the way. There’s a turnaround not too far ahead.” He aimed a glare at her rescuer. “I’ll need your assistance to get this crew into the pickup truck. We’ll leave them for the local authorities.”

  The cowboy touched the brim of his hat and followed Mike.

  His grandfather moved to cup her elbow, turning her with surprising firmness toward the bus. “After you, ma’am.”

  Wiley followed “Clipboard Man” over to the bandits’ vehicle. The other security guard had dragged their unconscious bodies closer to the truck bed. Grabbing shoulders and feet, they swung each of the bandits onto the bed.

  “Name’s Mike Espinoza,” said the one who’d lost his clipboard somewhere along the way.

  They flipped another man into the pickup bed before Wiley responded. “William Coyote. Mind telling me how you took down the last one without him popping off a shot?”

  Mike grinned. “I pushed his weapon against his chest then spun him. Got an arm around his neck. Took him down with a chokehold.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two darts. “These yours?”

  Wiley didn’t bother to make up a story. The man facing him was obviously ex-military and knew exactly what he’d done. “Yeah. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t include that part in any report you have to write.”

  Mike nodded then glanced over to the bus.

  Poppy was just stepping up into the doorframe. Her gaze rested on him and Mike.

  “Charter told you they’d have operatives among the passengers and crew…” Mike lifted his shoulders and smiled.

  “DEVGRU,” Wiley said, reaching out his hand.

  “SEAL Team 10.” Mike shook his hand.

  As Mike’s partner climbed into the truck and parked it in the ditch beside the road, Mike and Wiley stood side by side, watching as the last passengers boarded.

  “She’s got to know something’s up,” Mike murmured.

  “I’m just a guy accompanying my grandfather and his friends on a trip.”

  Mike nodded. “We’ll have to meet for drinks…” He reached out and slapped Wiley’s shoulder. “Better get a move on. She’s still staring.”

  Wiley grunted and strode toward the bus. Once he climbed the steps, applause erupted. He dipped his head but otherwise ignored the beaming faces all around him.

  Joe waved from the rear of the bus. Again, he’d saved him a seat.

  As he passed, Wiley gave Poppy a sideways glance. “I better make sure Gramps is okay.”

  Poppy’s gaze reflected her distrust. Wiley wasn’t sure why he did it, but he paused beside her, tipped up her face with his fingers, and bent to kiss her.

  She sat frozen, mouth gaping as he moved away.

  A grin stretching across his face, he slapped wrinkled hands raised to give him high-fives as he ambled down the aisle.

  Poppy fumed all the way back to the ship. No way was that cowboy just a man accompanying his grandfather on a cruise. She’d felt his large frame, chest to toes. He was too hard, too muscled, too damn cool in a dangerous situation to be some random passenger who just happened to be in the right place at the right time to save her. And with a damn blow gun.

  No matter that his solid weight had thrilled her to her toes. As soon as she got back to her room, she was calling her dad. He’d promised he wouldn’t make a fuss about this trip. If the cowboy hadn’t knocked her to the ground, she was completely confident the security team assigned by the cruise line would have handled everything—and in a much less embarrassing way.

  No way would she let the drama surrounding her father overshadow her mission. She wasn’t the focal point. The soldiers who would be sailing with the Countess line in just a few weeks needed all the attention. Her shoulders sank as the realization hit her. Perhaps she was more of a d
istraction than a help. Maybe she should have heeded her assistant’s advice. Kylie had offered to make this trip to assess the ship’s ability to accommodate handicapped vets. Kylie wasn’t in the public eye. The bandits who had stopped them wouldn’t have realized she was a high-dollar target they could ransom for a bigger payoff than the items they’d stolen from the mostly elderly passengers.

  Poppy glanced down at her rumpled, dirty dress. Reluctantly, she acknowledged her situation could have been much worse. She might have been blindfolded and forced to ride in the back of the pickup to the bandits’ hideout. If word had leaked, terrorists might have offered a much steeper payoff. Yeah, the encounter might have been much, much worse. She supposed her dirty dress, bruised ribs, and scraped elbows were a small price to pay.

  She remembered the way the cowboy had barreled into her, an arm encircling her shoulders, a hand cupping the back of her head. He’d knocked the wind out of her, but he’d protected her from major injury. She had no doubt that if he’d used his full weight and momentum to take her down, she’d have wound up in the hospital. He was a big man. Tall with broad shoulders, a solid but lean middle… If he hadn’t knocked the breath out of her, she doubted her ability to breathe anyway. His nearly black hair and piercing brown eyes had captured her attention. Add that square jaw, firm mouth—and for the first time in a long time, she’d been instantly aware of him…as a man. She’d felt small and helpless—something she never felt. Just remembering his weight pressing down on her produced flutters in her tummy. Poppy blew out an exasperated breath. Her father had a lot to answer for.

  Back at the dock, she was met by the captain and several more members of the ship’s security team. They hustled her past the line of passengers being checked for their cruise badges with their belongings whirring through metal detectors.

  “We heard about the robbery,” the captain said, taking in her disheveled appearance.

  “Don’t give me any apologies. That wasn’t your fault. We’re in Mexico. I’ll just be sure to discourage any soldiers and their families from taking that particular shore excursion.”

  “Plenty of other activities are nearer the ship, including secure beaches, for them to enjoy.”

  She nodded, wishing he would go about his business, but he seemed bent on escorting her to her door.

  “I hear your detail took care of the problem?”

  Rather than admit they’d had extra help, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Michael’s a very capable man.”

  “Good to hear. He was a recent hire. Haven’t worked with him before.”

  Poppy’s mouth thinned hearing that. But they’d reached the door of her suite. “Thanks. And thank your security detail. I hope the other passengers aren’t too rattled after this morning’s fiasco.”

  He chuckled. “I’m already hearing it’s the talk of the cruise. They’ve had quite the adventure.” He waited while she used her pass card to open her door.

  Once inside, she kicked off her espadrilles and began stripping on the way to the shower. Best way to forget about the man who’d made such a deep impression was to wash his lingering scent from her skin. She sniffed. Too bad it was so damn appealing …

  Captain Lundt caught up with Wiley just as he, Morty, Sly, and Joe headed down the long corridor in the bowels of the ship toward the elevator. They’d been the last in line to board.

  “If I could have a word,” the captain said, with a quick, professional smile.

  Wiley took a deep breath before pasting on an equally polite smile. Shit was about to hit the fan. “Of course.”

  “Drinks in the sports bar on the promenade,” Morty called out as the three older men stepped into the elevator.

  “After I hit the head,” Sly said, smacking Morty in the belly with the back of his hand. “I’ve been dying to go.”

  Wiley shook his head then studied the captain. With a quick glance, he took in his tall, lean frame, deeply tanned skin, and ice-blue gaze. His neatly cut blond hair was silver at his temples, so Wiley pegged him as being in his early fifties. “What can I help you with?”

  The captain didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “I’d like to know how you managed to sneak a weapon onboard my ship.”

  “A weapon?” Might as well go with ignorance first.

  The captain pulled a metal tube from his pocket.

  Wiley rubbed the back of his neck. “Wondered where that went.”

  “One of my security team confiscated it at the scene.”

  “It’s not technically a weapon.”

  “Not without these.” He pulled a dart in a plastic bag from his other pocket.

  So, Michael hadn’t been quick enough to get them all. Wiley winced.

  The captain gave him a hard look. “I would have appreciated knowing that Charter placed more men aboard my ship. I’m just as interested in keeping Miss Shackleford, and all my passengers, safe.”

  Cover blown. “She doesn’t know.”

  “But I bet she suspects. Miss Shackleford doesn’t miss much. Are more members aboard?”

  Wiley nodded. “But I couldn’t point them out to you. They’re embedded.”

  “I’m changing your accommodations. Putting you closer to Miss Shackleford. We’ll do a better job protecting her if we work together.”

  Wiley let out a slow, relieved breath. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A stateroom on her floor. One just opened up. Don’t worry. The family that was there is being comped with a free cruise. They were happy to make the move.”

  “How many beds?” This location would make his job easier. “I’ll want to try to maintain my cover—at least around the rest of the crew and passengers. Is there room for the three gentlemen who just left?”

  The captain smiled. “Two of them will have to bunk together, but yes, we can accommodate them. I’ll make the arrangements and have your luggage delivered.” The captain reached out to shake his hand. “Mike vouched for you. I’d appreciate you not going cowboy on me. Keep me in the loop.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With his hands in his pockets, Wiley stood watching the captain walk away. He wondered just what had motivated him to complicate his mission. The three old men were sure to get in his way. But he liked them, especially Joe. The story he’d told Wiley of the dwindling members of his Band of Brothers had reverberated with him. They’d enjoy the upgrade. And he wouldn’t be spending much time in the suite. Still, being nearer Poppy made his job easier.

  Only, he wasn’t just thinking about the job. Not when his blood surged south and his body tightened just remembering her soft curves beneath him on the ground. He’d tried to be gentle—well, as gentle as any takedown could be. No doubt he’d left some bruises. As he entered the elevator, he spotted Mike step in beside him and hit the button to take them upstairs.

  “Lundt’s a little pissed,” he said. “He knows I don’t belong to the cruise line.”

  “How long have you been with Charter?”

  “Never said I was.” Michael gave him a sideways look.

  “Wait. Michael Espinoza—Mickey D?” At the other man’s nod, Wiley grinned. “You’re still active. How the hell—”

  “I was loaned out to tweak the ship’s security and offer recommendations for improvements before a boatload of wounded warriors descended.” Mike gave him a sideways look. “Wiley Coyote, huh?”

  Wiley felt a rush of warmth and pride fill his chest. As quickly as they shared grins, they bonded. It just worked that way when you met a fellow SEAL.

  Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.

  Mike scraped a hand over his face. “My girlfriend’s pissed I’m on a cruise without her. She thought I’d be soaking up sunshine on a lounge chair somewhere.”

  “Better than knowing you just mixed it up with Mexican banditos.”

  He winced. “Just as well she’s not here.”

  Wiley grunted. “Better off with her pissed than in the middle of that shit back there.”

  The ele
vator dinged. Mike pointed to the left. “Your new room is three doors down. Here’s the key. And hers, should you need it.” He slipped two cards from his pocket.

  Wiley was impressed by how quickly the arrangements had been made. “So, I’m right across the hall from Ms. Shackleford?”

  Mike waggled his eyebrows. “She’s showering. And she’s not stupid. Once she sees you’ve been moved to her floor, she’ll know for certain her daddy’s responsible.”

  Wiley grunted. Her knowing would make things much simpler, since he’d already decided he was moving in with her.

  Mike held open the door a moment longer. “When we get back to Miami…”

  “We’ll have drinks,” Wiley said, lifting his chin. The moment the doors slid shut, he headed toward her room.

  Chapter Three

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  Poppy sat on her bed with a towel wrapped around her body as she applied antiseptic to the scrapes on her elbows. They weren’t bad and didn’t require more than a Band-Aid, but she’d have to wear longer sleeves to hide the injuries.

  Her cell phone chirped on the bed beside her. Daddy. It hadn’t taken long for the news to get back to him. She drew a deep breath and swiped the screen, tapping the speaker button. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Don’t you ‘hi Daddy’ me, missy. I want your butt on a plane home today.”

  She took another breath. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she said, keeping her tone even, “but I’m probably safer staying put. Less exposure than taking a cab to the airport.” She knew from the long pause he was grinding his teeth.

  “Don’t step off that boat again. And what the hell were you thinking, taking a bus trip into the jungle, anyway?”

  “You know I have to vet the excursions before our cruise.”

  “You could have sent Kylie. She’s just as much of a nit-picker as you are.”

  She waited a moment before responding. The longer they spoke, the better her chances of him coming around to her point of view. And for his blood pressure to drop. Nothing spiked it faster than her getting into trouble when he wasn’t there to fix things himself. She was all he had left.