Page 8 of Hazard

Then again, Hazard was so damn sexy, and had been, against her will, part of her erotic fantasies since she’d met him. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she wanted his respect as well.

Maybe it was the fatigue, because Leigh never gave anything away, not in the courtroom, not in her private life, not for any reason. That would open up vulnerabilities, weaknesses, ways for anyone who was trying to win against her to get the upper hand. Again, something she could never allow. She couldn’t explain why those statements affected her so profoundly. But they did. He did.

There was something about the sound of his voice, something about that quiet, husky tone, that instantly eased the burst of anxiety his previous words had aroused. Meeting his gaze, Leigh’s pulse stumbled. A different kind of nervousness made her voice waver. “Thank you,” she said simply, and she meant it.

It was hard enough that he was so damned attractive from that gorgeous head of burnished gold hair to the stubble coating his cheeks and jaw to those silvery blue eyes, his nose well-formed above his bowed upper lip, and tantalizing full bottom lip. But he was also big, wide-shouldered, one of those big capable hands curled around her arm. She was sure they were adept at both wielding a weapon and seducing a woman. Six feet of hard, muscular, seasoned man.

He wore a pair of jeans that fit so deliciously to his lower body, cupping his groin and snugging against his very nice ass. His collared shirt was a caramel color that only made his dark skin look more tanned, framing his burnished looks, the cuffs rolled up to reveal his taut forearms. He carried a brown jacket in one of the hands clamped to her luggage handle, and on his feet were a pair of dark brown laced boots.

He released her with a nod and motioned her to precede him. For the first time in her life, she felt…bolstered, protected…safe. Then she pushed those feelings aside. She couldn’t afford to feel any of that. It was madness and would lead her onto shaky ground in her own mind and heart. A long time ago, she’d put all her dream eggs in one basket, and it had all gone to hell in the absolute worst way, dashing all of her expectations for a future she’d wanted more than anything. She would never do that again.

The military had let her down once. She wasn’t going to fall into that trap again.

Everything she’d ever heard about Navy SEALs seemed to be an exaggeration, something the military hyped, or the media had overblown. She wasn’t sure. Could a man be that…tough, smart, competent? Could she really depend on him?

She turned to him. “I can carry my own cases,” she said.

“I’ve got them,” he said stoically.

For some reason, Leigh wanted to simply scream at him to stop being…whatever he was being. She was so damned tired, up half the night pacing about her mom, and the email she’d received from David. She felt she could let her guard down with him, and that scared the hell out of her. The sensation was almost too much for her to handle.

She squared her shoulders, her chin lifting. “Give me one of them.”

“You can’t help being a pain in the ass,” he growled and handed her the smaller bag.

Struggling against overwhelming fatigue, she grabbed the handle and dragged it behind her, wincing as it bounced down the stairs.

When they got to the street, there were two SUVs filled with his teammates: Remington “GQ” Nash was driving, Anna Graham whom she’d just met was their CIA intelligence officer, sandwiched in the backseat between Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, and Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta, their corpsman. Their leader, Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow, was in the passenger seat, the man with the pale eyes made her almost believe in the legendary status of the teams. He was downright scary. These people all gave her good vibes about their chances of getting the man they were after.

Hazard opened the back of the less full SUV and hefted her bag inside. The sky had been overcast when she’d entered the embassy, but now it was quite dark and angry-looking. When he reached for hers, she ignored him and did it herself. He scoffed softly and shook his head.

It started to drizzle, and when they got to the passenger door, they both reached for it, but he backed away with his hands up. She opened her own door. Yet there was a part of her that was affected by his gentlemanly conduct. She slipped into the middle of the back seat, and Hazard crowded into the remaining space.

Carter “Boomer” Finley was driving with Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin in the front passenger seat. She glanced at the man on the other side of her…Cooper “Skull” Sullivan.

He was tall, lean, like a boxer. His features were arresting, Latin, Spanish, in fact, with a kind of Aztecan, conquistador look about him. Those fierce adventurers with the kind of crazy courage associated with the SEALs. His black hair was parted in the middle, cut to temple length, part of it rakishly falling against his temple and the other side swept back off his forehead, the back thick against the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong, and he was clean-shaven except for a heavy five o’clock shadow. The long column of his neck was powerfully elegant. He had a short Roman nose and interesting flat lips with just a tiny bow on the top one, the bottom full and compelling. He was dressed all in black from cargo pants and military-issue boots to the long-sleeved pullover with a V at the neck, and the black leather jacket.

People, normal people, wouldn’t be comfortable around this man, she realized. He would be able to make them squirm with one look of those broody, dark leveling stares that could make any man think twice. No one with a shred of intelligence would ever mess with this man—any of these men.

Their size was intimidating enough, but it was what she’d glimpsed in their expressions and the way they’d held themselves in that meeting. Ready, focused, and more than willing for confrontation without hesitation, like locked-and-loaded weapons. Uncle Sam’s hair trigger?

He nodded his head at her, his dark, seemingly black eyes glittering with an almost otherworldly power. “Ma’am,” he said. “Buckle up.” She fumbled with the seatbelt, her hands unsteady from her fatigue. Suddenly, Hazard leaned over her.

She was engulfed in the scent and feel of him, the muscles flexing in his thigh and torso as he leaned into her to reach the belt, then pulled it across her body. Leigh didn’t move a muscle, her heart pounding at his closeness.

Awareness churned through her, making her heart jump and start, and she was just so fascinated with his hand again, making her wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to be touched by him. A disabling weakness pumped through her, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes from drifting shut as need—need so strong, so overwhelming, that she felt like she was drowning in it—coursed through her. More than her next breath, she wanted to reach out and smooth her hand across the back of his, to feel the texture of his skin, to experience his strength and his warmth, especially his warmth. She must have given him a clue, or he was in tune with all the sexual energy she was radiating because he lifted his head as he clipped the seatbelt in place. There was something disconcerting about the way he scrutinized her, as if he was peeling away layer upon layer, looking for the person within.

His expression suddenly grew shuttered, and he jerked his gaze away from hers. “We’re ready to go, Boomer.” The driver pulled away from the curb and the moment was over.

As the SUV progressed through the streets, Leigh dozed to the cadence of the windshield wipers and the steady downpour against the roof, overcome by a combination of nerves, chutzpah, and the kind of exhaustion that comes from going days without enough sleep. She shivered from the cool air, even though she was sandwiched between two large, warm men. Too drained to even turn her head or open her eyes, she huddled in her jacket. She had been on the move ever since the deaths of the OCDETF members.

Something warm and heavy was draped over her upper body, smelling so darn good, it roused her. It was Hazard’s brown suede jacket. “That will keep you warm until we get to our barracks,” he said.

Struggling with exhaustion, she opened her eyes. The weight felt good. His kindness felt good. “Thank you,” she said, her voice wavering. “But you’ll get cold.”

“No,” he answered, his voice gruff. “I won’t get cold.” The sound of his deep, husky voice went through her, and she shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.

Cocooned in the semi-darkness of the vehicle from the overcast skies, and warmed by Hazard's coat, Leigh snuggled down, her weariness fading into a kind of drifting lethargy. She would get back to work once she got to the barracks. It was her understanding the Colombian government had put them up in a former high school building not far from the embassy. It had a gate and fencing, more of a compound that added to their security. Marines had been dispatched to guard duty rather than rely on locals.

---