Submitting to the SEAL's Protection

By Leslie North

A Navy SEAL stole her heart. Now he must fight to protect it…
 

For Rita, life was just one boring date after another. No passion. No sparks. No sizzle… Until she spotted Jared across the room. A tall, muscular, tattooed Navy SEAL—Jared was impossible to ignore. The second they locked eyes, she knew… It was more than lust, more than infatuation. She belonged to him…

At first, she resisted. Maybe she should go for someone more normal. A nice guy with a 9-5 job and a pension. Someone safer. But there was no fighting the attraction that drew her to him. And the more time they spend together, the stronger their bond grows.

But when Rita's ex-husband Tucker finds out she has a new man in her life, he returns with a vengeance and kidnaps her. As a former Navy SEAL, Jared is as tough as they come. But can he get to Rita before Tucker sails off into international waters, beyond the reach of the law?

Will Jared be able to protect his new love, before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Relay Publishing
• Release date: Apr 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215662601

Book preview

ONE

Don’t look at your watch again. You’re being rude . Rita bit at the inside of her cheek as she nodded along with her date’s animated talking. Ted, the investment banker seated across from her, was handsome, objectively speaking, but she would have to tell her best friend, Keanie, to stop sending her these corporate snores as blind dates. At least the last guy bought me dinner , Rita thought and glanced around at the slowly filling bar. She and Ted had met for happy hour after he’d got off of work for the day. He’d bought her a drink, but nothing more.

There was a time in her life where the clean-cut, impeccably styled type was right up her alley, but now… She did her best to swallow back a yawn. You should see some of the foreclosures that come across my desk, Ted said, slapping his hand down on the table. "Some of these people get so far over their heads, and it is exhausting—"

Cleaning them out when they can’t make a payment? The words popped out of her mouth unbidden, but Ted didn’t seem to hear her anyway. He never stopped talking; he had already moved on to his most recent bonus check. How many low-income homes did you have to foreclose on to get that? The thought was snarky and more than a little mean, but she couldn’t help but think about how many homes she could fix up with that money. Seven, she decided. No, eight.

What is it that you do again? Ted asked, as if remembering that he was on a date and not a job interview.

Rita tried to smile. At least he’s finally taking an interest, right? I direct a nonprofit in San Diego, she told him. We renovate homes with sustainable materials for those in need.

Ted was less than impressed. That’s not exactly a moneymaker, he said.

She did her best not to flip him off—or throw her drink in his face. The drink was the only thing that made his presence marginally tolerable. She wasn’t going to waste it by throwing it. No, she agreed as politely as she could. Nonprofits don’t generally make a lot of money.

Rita had been running the nonprofit for a little more than a year; she had completely lucked into the role. Keanie had hooked Rita up with a friend of hers from college who had been kind enough—or maybe desperate enough—to overlook the ten-year gap in Rita’s resume. It had been a bit of a learning curve when she’d first started, but she loved the scope of her job: interacting with volunteers, managing the contractors, overseeing projects. The best part, though, was seeing the look on the homeowners’ faces when they walked through their new home for the first time.

That seems like a waste of time, if you ask me.

She tried not to roll her eyes. Of course, someone in the corporate sector wouldn’t find her line of work worthwhile. After getting her MBA, she’d spent five years working around men just like Ted. But then she’d met Tuck and…well, she didn’t want to think about that right now, honestly. She was supposed to be on a date, after all. Turning over a new leaf. And that meant thinking about her ex-husband was a no-no right now, as per Keanie’s orders. You told me that your ex was a psycho, her friend had told her before Rita had left for this date. Leave him in the past tonight, all right?

Like ten years in an abusive marriage was so easily left behind. Rita understood Keanie’s good intentions in pairing her up with these safe, boring, suited men. Keanie knew that Rita needed to move on, and she wanted to see Rita safe and happy in a calm, steady relationship. But God, did Rita need some excitement…or just to be left alone with Casey, her black lab. She and Tuck hadn’t had any children—thank God for small favors—but they’d adopted Casey as a puppy. Tuck had wanted a guard dog, but Casey was more a couch cushion with legs, and her ex couldn’t stand that. He did everything he could think of to toughen that stupid mutt up, but nothing could make her sweet, lazy pup interested in anything other than napping in the sunshine and begging for treats and belly rubs. The only time she’d ever seen an ounce of aggression from Casey was the night that Rita had finally left. Tuck had punched her, nearly breaking her nose. When he’d reared back again for another blow, Casey had gone after him. Seeing Tuck trying to kick the dog in the ribs had woken her up enough to realize that neither she nor Casey deserved that life—and that they might not survive in it much longer. She packed up as much as she could, took Casey, and left without looking back.

Casey’s got to be bored at the apartment by now. Rita shook her head, pulling herself out of her own thought, and heard …compounded his previous ruptured, herniated lower back. Rita focused back in and found her date staring at her expectantly.

Shit. He’s expecting me to say something. What was he talking about? Who’s back was herniated? What happened to foreclosures? Rita tried to give him a sympathetic smile. I…I need to visit the little girl’s room, she said. Be back in a jiffy. She pushed out of her seat, biting back a yelp as her tortured toes were crunched in the pointy toe of her punishingly high heels.

Wobbling a bit as she walked, Rita did her best not to tug her skirt down. She’d borrowed this dress from Keanie, and even though they wore the same size, she felt out of place in it. While Keanie might be twenty-eight and able to pull off short and swishy, Rita’s forty-five-year-old ass couldn’t. She didn’t feel sexy; she just felt ridiculous. She pushed open the door to the bathroom and sighed in relief. The bathroom was blessedly empty.

Limping to the sink, Rita clutched the counter and pulled in one deep breath after another. She wished she hadn’t agreed to another blind date, but she owed it to Keanie for taking a chance on a stranger who answered an ad for a roommate. In the last fourteen months, Keanie had become another sister to her. Being around her made missing her sister, Tessa, easier. She longed to call her, but if Tessa knew where she was, Tuck would find out, and she would rather swallow broken glass than have him walk back into her life.

Tessa’s husband, Jordy, had been Tuck’s best friend practically since birth. But where marital bliss had claimed Tessa and Jordy and made them even better people than they already were, her marriage to Tuck had nearly ruined Rita. By the end, even the sex had gone bad, and she had always thought that so long as she and Tuck had the same fiery sex life that they’d always had, they could get through anything. Obviously, she had been wrong, but… God, I miss sex. At the start of Ted’s monologue, she’d been willing to consider the idea of going to bed with him just for the chance to be touched again. But it hadn’t taken long to figure out that anything he could do to her, she could do better by herself—and spare herself more lectures about banking over breakfast the next morning.

Looking in the mirror at her own miserable expression, Rita gave herself a quick pep talk during which she decided that she was finished with these dates. She was putting her foot down. Her very pained foot that had been crammed into uncomfortable shoes because Keanie said they made her look sexy. She would give anything for a pair of comfortable boots and her favorite pair of cargo shorts. Suck it up for a little longer. Then you can go home, take a hot shower, and curl up with your favorite battery-operated friend.

She took another deep, cleansing breath, squared her shoulders, and pulled open the bathroom door. The bar was noisy now. Her heel caught on a divot in the floor, and she groped for the nearby pinball machine in order to keep upright. I’m going to cut these shoes into tiny pieces and burn them when I get home, she muttered to herself.

Now, why would you go and do something like that? rumbled a deep, bass voice. The kind of voice that could make a person shiver.

Because I was never meant to walk in heels, Rita shot back in frustration.

A hand griped her elbow, steadying her as she stepped away from the pinball machine. Rita looked up. And up some more. She found the bluest eyes that she’d ever seen set into an unfairly handsome face. Rita swallowed hard. She was about to thank him for his help when he leaned down. Keep the shoes, he told her. You look beautiful in them. His eyes seemed to drag down her body, and she shivered, as if she could feel his gaze stroking against her skin. They’d look even better if you were naked and lying in my bed. She felt the heat in her face almost instantly, and she gaped at him, flustered. The man chuckled, gave her elbow a squeeze, and then…returned to his table.

What the hell?

Jared sipped at his ale; it had notes of chocolate and citrus. Creamy and tangy. The right amber color with a hint of cloudiness. He used to brew beer with his brother and cousins, and even though they hadn’t exactly become true experts, they had learned a lot. He grinned into his next sip. They used to raid his mom’s kitchen so that they could experiment with different ingredients. Most were complete disasters, but they’d actually stumbled on a few good recipes. If only my date were as engaging as a mug of beer.

Her name was Kerstin, and she had been talking about some reality TV show or another for the last twenty minutes. She was deep into a detailed description about this family that she treated as seriously as if they were her own kin. There was only so long that he could nod along for, but he did his best to hang on. Kerstin had been giving him bedroom eyes from the moment he’d picked her up tonight, and even if he didn’t particularly like her, he wasn’t about to mess up a chance to get laid. So what did you say you did for work? Kerstin asked, pausing her less than fabulous retelling of a show that Jared wasn’t interested in at all.

I didn’t. The snarky response was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. I just retired from the Navy, he said, although the word retired filled his mouth with the taste of ash. I was a SEAL. Having spent the better part of the last twenty years in the service, Jared had medically discharged after he’d crushed his ankle in a zero-sight drop from 30,000 feet.

Kerstin’s blue eyes glittered. A Navy SEAL? The woman practically licked her lips at him. That must have been exciting. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her face in her palms. It was a posed casual move that was meant to make her look good, and he’d be damned if she didn’t…but it still didn’t inspire much more than a basic biological lust.

Jared nodded and sipped at his ale again. It was, he agreed. I miss it.

Tell me about it, Kerstin prompted.

Ah, that’s the crux, isn’t it?

He missed being in the military, and he missed his squad, but he especially missed being able to relate to someone else about the things he’d experienced. I really, really can’t, Jared told her. Most of my work was classified, and retirement doesn’t change that.

Kerstin’s nose wrinkled slightly. She didn’t like his answer, and he wasn’t exactly surprised. It was a typical response and part of the reason he was three years out of his second failed marriage. While each marriage ended for its own reason, a part of the issue both of his exes cited had been his secrecy. You just won’t let me in, Jared. Carolyn, wife number one, had told him that shortly after asking him to sign the divorce papers. I can’t get close to you, and I’m tired of trying.

You’re a mysterious guy, aren’t you? Kerstin asked, peering at him in a way that was almost unnerving. Like she was actually looking at him for the first time. It bordered on creepy. I guess I’ll have to play detective. Then she let out a delighted squeal. That reminds me of a time— She was back to talking about reality television.

Jared chuckled humorlessly and finished up his beer. While trying not to appear bored, he glanced around the room. A woman some twenty feet away sat at a table with a man and looked as miserable as he felt. He watched her for a few moments, reading the emotions as they dashed across her face—a polite smile followed by confusion followed by revulsion—and Jared could tell that she was trying and failing to pay attention to whatever her table companion was going on about. Her eyes scanned the room every so often, as if she were looking for something.

Jared didn’t quite understand why he found her so fascinating. She wasn’t his type. Both of his ex-wives—and Kerstin across from him—were small and fragile-looking; they dressed to please and to be seen. This one was wearing an appropriately flimsy dress—as best he could tell while she remained seated—but she seemed uncomfortable in it. And as for her body, she looked, to quote his granddad, like she came from Irish peasant stock. Instead of delicate slimness, she had full, lush curves. She also had a riotous mess of curls in the place of sleek, well-maintained hair, and she wasn’t wearing makeup from what he could see. She has to be a teacher, he decided. She had that air about her. Almost unbidden, he found himself wondering if she was on a date; maybe she met this guy