Chapter One
Drake Hardwick scowled, totally out of his element. Give him an assault rifle or an M9 and a target, the more hostile the better, he was fine. Hell, he could make do for weeks on a ship at sea or in the middle of a desert alone. Anything would be better than being surrounded by this Pepto Bismol shit.
Dylan had called it some other name but it was still a God-awful pink.
The elegant outdoor gathering area of the Lodge of the Edgington Creek Resort in Eagleview, Montana had been overrun with pink flowers and wedding decorations. The log cabin exterior had somehow grown roses from every nook and cranny.
Luckily, all the femininity of the setting was counterbalanced by the testosterone of the military men in it. Navy SEALs crowded the area, from one end of the decorative fieldstone courtyard to the other, some in service dress and others in plain clothes, depending upon whether or not they'd been in the wedding. He hadn't been one of the lucky ones, so he wore what he considered dress-up a white button-up shirt, gray bow tie and black vest that gave him room to move. If he'd gone to the wedding, he would have had a new suit jacket fitted, but he, as well of most of the other grunts out here, had opted to come to the reception and leave the wedding itself for closer family.
Tension in his gut ratcheted up as he looked out over the sea of heads around him. The noise was a cacophony echoing in his head. It was almost wall-to-wall people and he needed air, space. Any one of these people could have an IED on them or a weapon. He started moving toward the far end of the courtyard.
Somebody bumped into his elbow so he stepped out of the flow of traffic, but almost immediately somebody else bumped into him, hard enough to slosh his beer out of the bottle. Cursing, he held it away from himself, hoping to miss his vest and an embarrassingly wet front, then turned to glare at whoever had knocked into him.
"Oh, excuse me, I am so sorry. It's a little crowded here."
Drake blinked, the harsh words he'd been about to snap falling away at the sound of her husky voice. A tallish woman in a slim sleeveless dress of Pepto color grinned up at him, wild honey-blond hair whisping around her face. She rested a slim hand on his arm.
"I'll get you a new beer," she promised. "I'm Isobel. My friends call me Izzy."
She thrust out a hand and he responded automatically. Her palm was tiny and incredibly soft. Softer than anything he'd felt in a while. He jerked his hand away and shook his head. "Don't worry about the beer. It was my fault we collided. Drake," he added as an after thought, then had to wonder why he'd given her his real name. He was Zero to everyone else here.
Her bright green gaze lingered on his face and skull-trimmed head before drifting down his brows, cheeks, chin, nose before they settled on his lips for a long second. The woman blinked and her gaze scanned down the rest of his body. Zero felt a surge of interest. The woman wasn't the type that normally drew him, but something about her... He suddenly realized that the panicked tightness in his throat he had been feeling had completely faded away as he’d looked at her, talked to her.
"Oh," she looked a little nonplussed as she met his gaze again, her cheeks flushing. “No, it was totally my fault. I came with a date but I’m kind of hiding from him now,” she grinned conspiratorially.
Before he could pursue the conversation, a woman tugged on her hand from the opposite side. Izzy turned away with a laugh, wiggling her fingers at him as she left.
Scowling even harder at the strange incident he turned away from the retreating woman. There was too much traffic here. He needed to find a corner and bide his time before he could politely leave. Most of the guests had arrived, and apparently the bridesmaids and groomsmen had arrived, judging by all the pink clothing, but they were waiting for Dylan and Kiko. He'd heard something about official photos of the married couple. Weaving through a line of chairs he headed toward the far corner of the rustic patio, where an abandoned mini bar sat dark. Before he could make it there, though, one of his team waved him over.
There were a lot of men out here to celebrate the marriage of one of their own. At least a hundred and fifty. It had been a huge turnout considering how far away they were from the ocean. Montana didn't have any body of water big enough for a SEAL he didn't think. Dylan Cutler had only been on SEAL Team 8 for less than four years but he was a good man and everyone seemed to respect him. It was why they'd turned out in such numbers tonight. Well, that and the free beer.
Drake looked around the venue. The Resort probably wasn't cheap, and it looked like Kiko’s father had pulled out all the stops. He was a plastic surgeon from Los Angeles and had to be footing this monstrous bill. Drake seriously doubted Dylan and Kiko had the kind of cash the resort demanded for these things. Rich and some famous people, obviously clients of the doctor, wandered the crowds, smiling benevolently for the wandering photographers. Drake shook his head, wondering at the eclectic mix of people.
The open-air courtyard outside the resort was perfect for their group. Bars at either end with a dance floor and band in the middle. There was a raised dais for the wedding party. A breeze blew in from the large pond to the east, but it was warm and fragrant. They had been warned to bring cool weather gear, because nights in Montana could turn frigid in a blink.
Logan Connaught shoved one of the white, padded folding chairs in his direction when he stopped at the group.
"Have a seat, Zero. Tell us about the blond you just splashed beer on. Is she as hot as she looks from here?"
Drake frowned at the incorrect details but lowered himself into the chair. It wasn’t as crowded here. He could socialize for a few minutes but he didn't want to talk about the intriguing blond. "I didn't spill beer on her."
Logan looked a little crestfallen. "Damn. I thought you had. Is she with someone?"
He lifted one brow. "I talked to her for, literally, two seconds before she was pulled away. We didn't get around to her dating history, but yes, I think she’s with someone."
The younger man looked even more put out with him. "She's beautiful. You should have grabbed her."
Obviously the liquor was having an effect already. "I'm sure she would have appreciated that."
“I think she showed up with a dark-haired guy,” Fetch put in helpfully. “But it didn’t seem like they were getting along.”
In spite of himself he glanced through the crowd, looking for naturally curly blond hair, but he didn't see the woman. As the conversation degenerated around him, Drake leaned back and nursed what was left of his beer. Stokes shoved a second one into his hand and he was more than happy to take it.
As he listened to the rowdy conversation and dating advice swirling around him, smiling slightly where he needed to, he wondered if they heard how crazy they sounded. Most of the SEALs around him were younger than he by many years. Drake was creeping up on his fourteenth year, a long time in a hard-hitting job like his. Gabe Carter, a friend of his, had left the team following his battle buddy's suicide to join a detective agency out of Denver, and there had been shuffling in the ranks. Drake had taken Carter's place as lead coxswain deployed via the USS Carl Vinson. It was exciting and a real ego-stroker, this job, but he was beginning to get tired. More than once he'd wondered about calling Carter up and hinting around about a change of pace. He knew Carter was here at the reception. He’d have to find him and have a word.
Drake was one of the oldest operators in the teams. Most of the kids looked up to him and his experience but there were a few that definitely just wanted to push him out and take his spot.
Drake grinned slightly. He found he wasn't struggling against the ambitious ones as much as he used to. Maybe Gabe Carter and Max Tate, another SEAL who had left for the Denver agency, had the right idea in getting out early before their bodies started to betray them.
Hank Patterson was another SEAL who had gotten out of the military before his body was beat all to hell. 'Montana', as he'd been called in the teams, had created a protection service for the rich and famous that had begun to settle into the area. Drake glanced at him now. The big man had an arm curled protectively over the shoulders of his beautiful love, Sadie McClain, a Hollywood actress. She'd been his first job in the area, and Drake thought she would also be his last if the look in their eyes was anything to go by.
Letting the conversation swirl around him, he glanced around the area.
The pink decorations were enough to give him a seizure, but he guessed the party had been well-done. There were frilly decorations on every conceivable surface, or pretty colored beads. There were plenty of snacks and tubs of beer sitting right alongside the caviar and champagne, and everyone was getting along even though they were very different demographics. The main buffet would be served in a while, once the bride and groom arrived.
There was a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head in time to see the woman from earlier being tugged like a boat through the crowd by a glowering, dark-haired man. Drake's senses spiked as he saw Izzy's face. She was not happy. No, more than that, she was struggling to get her hand free. With a jerk, she snatched her hand away, crossing her arms over her breasts. The man leaned into her face and words were exchanged, before he held out an arm mockingly for her to precede him through the door.
After a moment, Izzy waked through the door.
Before he even realized what he was doing he'd left the boat team and strode across the venue, cowboy boots pounding. Ducking through the same hallway the couple had he quieted his steps down the carpeted hallway of the opulent lodge. He'd lost sight of them but he thought they might still be close.
A woman screamed, but it was quickly silenced, as if a hand had been slammed over her mouth. Heart thudding in excitement, he followed the muffled cry.
Izzy dragged her feet, but she ended up tripping because of the damn heels she'd promised Kiko she would wear for the wedding. They tangled her feet and gave Brendon that much more leverage on her arm.
"Come on, Izzy. We need to get some things straight. You seem to think you have the control in this relationship."
She took offense at the words. "Whatever. Relationship? Really? Okay, let’s talk. Like why don’t you tell me why the hell you came to the wedding of one of my best friends and acted like an asshole? Are you drunk? Doing drugs? You weren’t like this yesterday at dinner, so you’re obviously on something. Or is this your natural behavior coming out?"
Quicker than a snake Brendon turned and shoved her up against a wall. They were well away from the crowd now in some kind of employee break room and as he leaned into her face, breath reeking, Izzy realized it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize him. He’d already had too much to drink or snort. No. Fuck that. If he had plans for her to ‘straighten up’ she had better be making noise. She could only hope that one of those crazy, semi-drunk SEALs out there just outside the door could hear her. Opening her mouth, she screamed.
The hand that slapped over her mouth was not careful and her head ricocheted off the wall. Struggling, she used her other hand to slap at Brendon but he leered into her face. "Go ahead and fight. Doesn't bother me at all. Actually, it excites me."
He leaned his hips into her suggestively and Izzy felt exactly how excited he was, but she wasn’t impressed. She began to kick out harder, but he was too close for her to get any leverage.
The hand over her mouth was also blocking her airway. In desperation she raked her freshly done nails down the side of his face, taking skin in a long scrape. Immediately he drew her head back with his strong hand and slammed her against the wall again. Bright bursts of color washed out her vision and then it began to dim. Oh, hell. If he knocked her out, she would be in trouble.
She fought with a desperation she had never felt before. Just because he was bigger it didn't mean that he was going to win this. Arching her back away from the wall she reached for something to fight with. Her fingers snagged a wooden something and she gripped it, swinging with all her might. The industrial plunger struck Brendon in the side of the head, making him stagger.
But then suddenly she was free. Her rubbery legs gave out beneath her and she slumped to the floor, landing hard on her hands and knees. She gasped for air and looked up, trying to see where her assailant had gone.
The badass guy with the skull-trim and the fierce, cold eyes, Drake, had taken Brendon to the floor and had twisted his arms into pretzels. The younger man cried out in pain and Izzy found herself grinning. "That's what you get, you stupid ass."
Brendon didn't seem to be listening, though. His focus was on the immovable force on his back about to break his arms. Izzy kind of wished Drake would just break them. Instead he leaned down and began whispering in Brendon's ear. Izzy couldn’t hear what he said, but it must have been frightening. At first the younger man gave no response. Then Drake's words began to slow down and Brendon's eyes widened. Finally, he nodded and Drake let him up.
Brendon moved slowly, as if afraid he would be jumped again. He turned to her as if to apologize, then something went hard in his bloodshot eyes. With a sudden lunge he lurched at her rescuer, small flip blade pocketknife in hand. Izzy cried out as they made contact, then the newcomer's fists were flying. Brendon went down like a ton of bricks, groaning. Blood had splattered all around his nose and coated his chin. That sucker was pulverized.
Her rescuer scowled down at Brendon on the ground. "Seriously? You're in a group of Navy SEALs and you pull a damn pocket knife on me?"
Drake reached behind his back and drew out a truly fearsome black blade, at least a foot long, serrated on one side. Holy crap!
Brendon finally seemed to realize how outclassed he was. Pushing to his feet, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face, he turned to her. "I'm sorry things got out of hand. It was all a misunderstanding."
He turned, supporting his wrenched arm, and left. The Navy SEAL slipped the blade away without even looking and stepped toward her.
Izzy couldn't believe how quickly her situation had turned around. One minute she was being harassed and the next she was being saved by what she thought was a drunk wedding guest. He hadn’t moved like he was intoxicated though. He’d moved like a movie hero. She staggered to her feet and leaned against the wall. Drake stepped close enough to grip her elbow and Izzy jerked in surprise at the warmth of his hand against her skin. Oh, she didn't expect that.
She looked up at his harsh face. Damn. The expression he wore was completely terrifying, but not necessarily to her. He stared at the door Brendon had bolted through as if waiting for him to come back. Then the coldest silvery ice gray eyes she'd ever seen turned her way.
"Are you okay?"
The sound of his rumbling, rough baritone sent a shiver through her gut, but again, not in fear. No, the reaction she felt was completely more dangerous.
"I-I'm fine, I think." Izzy blinked. Had she actually just stuttered for a man? She lifted a hand to her head. "He just rattled my bones. I don’t think I’ll even have a knot."
The man turned to her fully and reached a hand up to replace hers, rubbing gently. If possible, his expression hardened even more. "You might," he said. Then his gaze drifted lower. "You do have a split lip."
A hard thumb gently brushed against the area and Izzy realized it was throbbing as well. When he drew his hand away there was blood on the pad of his thumb.
"I forgot about that,” she whispered.
And now it hurt just as much as her head, damn it.
Izzy straightened her legs but didn't pull away from his grip on her elbow. It felt too nice. And holy Batman he smelled good. "I have to thank you," she said, but he shook his head, brushing her words away.
"No thanks needed. I'm glad I glanced up when I did." His pale eyes drifted up. "Actually, your hair caught my attention."
Izzy grinned and lifted a hand to the mass, which surely looked beautiful right now. She pressed it down, but that kind of hurt her head. Okay, it would have to stay crazy. "Yeah, it kind of likes to fly it's own way, especially in the breeze."
Without saying anything he captured one spiral curl between his fingertips and tugged down its length. When he released it, the curl sprang back into place.
The big man blinked, then moved as if to step back. Izzy leaned toward him, just the slightest bit, and he paused. "You know," she whispered, "just before you came in I wished upon a SEAL."
Confusion clouded his features. "What?"
She waved a hand. "There were so many of you out there, I hoped that somebody would come to my rescue, because he was too much for me. I mean, I pride myself on being able to get out of any situation, but I was definitely in a pickle when you came in. So, I wished that one of the many Navy SEALs out there would hear my scream and come to my rescue."
The man barked out a laugh and twitched a dark eyebrow at her. "Well, you were rescued by a SEAL. Congratulations."
Then he did pull away. Izzy immediately missed his touch. And his warm, spicy scent.
Then she noticed the blood. "Oh, no. Did he get you with his knife?"
Drake looked down at the blood on the white sleeve of his shirt, then down his body. Izzy reached forward to the slice at the bottom edge of the vest, just above his waistband. The white shirt underneath was quickly turning crimson. "Take your vest off," she ordered, nurse command in her voice.
Drake's pale eyes barely even flickered. "It's a flesh wound. Don't worry about it."
"Bullshit. Actually, I don’t care if it is. There’s blood so I want to see it. Strip, big man."
She had a second to see the surprise in his eyes before she turned away to search for something to staunch the blood. There was a storage shelf right beside them, as well as a stack of linens. She grabbed several soft cloth napkins and turned back to her rescuer.
Oh, my sweet hell...
Okay, she knew Navy SEALs had to be in top physical shape, but she'd never seen a man as fit as Drake. Muscles were stacked on top of muscles, from his strong shoulders, mounded pecs to the cobbled contours of his abs. Her mouth watered at the thought of following the dark cloud of hair on his chest down the length of his stomach to beneath his waistband. Then she caught sight of the blood. All of her attention focused on that area. Moving forward, she leaned to get a better look at the cut.
It was only a scratch, like he'd said, but a deep enough one to require some care. Laying the clean napkin over the wound, she applied pressure, leaning into her hand. When she looked up, Drake stared at her. Was that interest she saw in his hard gaze?
"If it hurts, I'm sorry. It's just a small cut, shallow, but this will slow the bleeding."
His gaze dropped down between them and Izzy realized how close she'd stepped into him. Her cheeks heated again and she started to step away. "Sorry."
Drake reached out and cupped her elbows, making her pause. "You're fine. Don't go anywhere. I think it's still bleeding."
Izzy smiled, appreciating the humor. "I'm sure it is. So, Drake, how long have you been a hero?"
One dark brow quirked up. "Not long. About five minutes, actually."
She frowned. "Aren’t you one of Dylan's Navy SEAL buddies?"
He gave her a single nod.
"Then you've been a hero for a lot longer than five minutes. How long have you been a SEAL?"
"Fourteen years."
Izzy's brows popped up in surprise. "Wow, that's a long time."
She looked at his torso again. Yep, she could see the history written on his body. Old cuts that hadn't been stitched, blossoms of scar tissue that looked like gunshot wounds. Her fingers drifted from wound to wound. His abs tightened at her touch and Izzy realized how forward she was being. God, she didn't know this guy at all. She knew him less than she'd known Brendon, but something about him drew her. She wanted to know him.
Trying to draw on her professionalism she pulled back, peeling the napkin away from his wound. It had stopped bleeding and as she gently blotted at the skin, she decided it didn't need stitches, just a bandage and some Neosporin would do. Glancing around the break room, she spied a first aid kit on top of the row of lockers. Would have been nice if she'd seen that earlier.
Crossing to the lockers she started to pull a chair close to stand on, but Drake stopped her.
"I can get it," he told her, reaching over her shoulder with ease.
The warmth of him against her back was intoxicating. Maybe it was just the release from the adrenalin spike, but she was feeling more than friendly toward him. If he gave her the chance she would totally jump his sexy bones.
A fingertip brushed over her right shoulder, directly along the lines of her tattoo.
"What style is this?" he asked, breath puffing against her skin. "I've never seen anything like it."
"It's a watercolor tattoo."
"It's beautiful. Very feminine," he murmured, running his fingers along the petals of the chrysanthemum, then down the stem. It felt as if he were touching something much more personal than her back. His touch was unbelievably gentle.
Bandage. She needed to bandage the knife wound.
She turned in place, taking the first aid kit from him. "Do you think we need to report him to the cops?"
Drake's expression was inscrutable, but he shook his head. "No, not unless you feel you need to."
Izzy was confused for a moment. Oh, yeah, he'd gotten hurt because she was being attacked. How had she forgotten that?
"No, I don't think so. We're already going to have to try hide what happened from Dylan and Kiko. Their families are out there. I don't want their wedding overshadowed by this."
Drake gave a single nod, then moved to one of the circular tables. Pushing a couple of the chairs away he leaned his butt back against the edge, legs stretched out in front of him. "Is this okay?"
Izzy moved toward him, placing the kit on the table near his hip, incredibly conscious of him being so near, watching every move she made. Those ice-cold eyes unnerved her. She flipped the lid on the box and rummaged inside. A four by four should be big enough. She found an antiseptic wipe and ripped it open. "This may burn a little."
Moving in front of him she leaned down to get a better look at the wound. The knife had nicked him just above the waistband of his pants on the left side of his body. She was focused on an area just a few inches from his zipper. Oh, hell, was he getting erect?
The door pushed open behind her and Izzy glanced over her shoulder. A harried young man with a load of linen in his arms paused.
"Get out," Drake snapped.
The young man turned and bolted, stuttering out an apology.
As Izzy straightened and turned back to look at Drake, it suddenly occurred to her how it must have looked with Drake leaning back, shirtless, and her bent over in front of him. When she caught the glint of male satisfaction in his pale eyes and quirk of a smile on his lips, she burst out laughing. "You dog! You knew that would happen, didn't you?"
The smile spread his lips, white teeth flashing. "I thought it might be a possibility."
Izzy giggled and smacked his arm, appreciating the totally male move. They didn't know the worker and she doubted he would go blabbing to his friends what he'd seen.
Or maybe he would...
The thought of people knowing she'd been with Drake didn't bother her. The man was sex on a stick. She'd never dated anyone with a shaved head and it made him appear ultra-sexy. She wanted to run her hand over the skin of his head, and the barest hint of dark stubble there. Thick, dark brows arched over his intelligent eyes and there was a bit of a smile on his full lips. If she didn’t know he was a SEAL, he could have totally fit into the Hollywood crowd. Her girlfriends would probably be urging her on right now. Her gaze flicked to the wall and the white-faced clock there. Dylan and Kiko weren't due to arrive for another thirty minutes.
She did not expect to get bowled over by anyone on this crazy destination wedding. When Kiko had taken she and Ginny to lunch one day and explained that everyone was going to the mountains of Montana for this high-class wedding, she and Ginny had laughed.
“You’re kidding,” Ginny had gasped.
Kiko had shaken her head. “No. This is an area where we vacationed when I was a kid and I fell in love with it. Dylan loves it too, so we’re going to do it.”
There had been no shaking her. And when she’d said she would hook them up with blind dates for the day, Izzy had cringed but smiled. Actually, she'd had slight hopes for Brendon, the guy Kiko had chosen for her, but obviously those weren't going anywhere.
This male specimen, on the other hand, was a much better prospect.
Leaning down again she spread the antibacterial ointment across the cut, then positioned the four by four across it. Ripping bandage tape from a roll she secured the pad. And yes, maybe she let her hand linger just a moment longer than needed. Out of the peripheral of her eye she glanced at his erection as she stood up. Yup, definitely still interested.
Drake looked down at the patch job. "Thank you for taking care of my scratch."
"No problem, truly. It was the least I could do after you saved my life. I would offer to kiss it better, but, you know, germ transmission and all that."
If anything the heat in his eyes intensified. He shifted his hips as if to draw her attention to them but she kept her eyes up, locked onto his.
"Well, maybe you could just give me a peck on the cheek. You know, just to help keep my spirits up."
Izzy smiled at his inventiveness. "Perhaps I could."
Leaning forward, resting one hand on his strong shoulder, she brushed her lips against his lean cheek, feeling the slightest bristle of hair. It had probably been this morning since he'd shaved, but he still smelled damn good. She paused in her retreat just to inhale the spicy scent of him.
Abruptly, he turned the tables on her. Burrowing a hand in her hair, he tugged her close, inhaling against her neck. A shudder wracked her body and her nipples peaked beneath the bodice of the dress as arousal swept through her. A small moan escaped her. Before she could think better of it she twisted her mouth toward his. For a long second, they breathed each other in, then Drake brushed her lips with his own. Izzy didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the incredible need that rocked her.
Drake consumed her like she was a decadent wine, moving slowly and lingering on the curve of her lower lip. He tasted of beer and sex and Izzy had a feeling that if she gave the slightest agreement they would be going at it like bunnies. As his hands moved to cup her face, she pulled back to get some breathing room.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," she sighed. "You taste damn good, but you're not a good bet."
Drake went still enough that she could feel the thud of his heart, then suddenly he released her and leaned back. "You are completely right, Izzy. My apologies."
Izzy rocked back on her heels, stunned that he'd just let her go. Then she felt like an ass. After everything he'd done for her, being wounded and securing her safety, she'd just told him he wasn't good enough for her. That wasn't the kind of person she was and she felt a little disgusted with herself.
"Drake," she paused, unsure what to say.
"It's okay. I understand."
Pushing to his feet he crossed the break room to a standing clothes rack. Several white shirts hung there with tags hanging from the hangers, obviously freshly laundered. Swiping the hangers along the rod he pulled one, ripped the hanging tag off and shrugged it on. It fit him like a glove. Buttoning it quickly, he looked for the bow tie that had been around his neck. He retrieved it from the back of one of the chairs then picked up the vest.
The cut was not very visible in the fabric; it had just been nicked. And as he turned it around she realized it had missed most of the blood, as well. He shrugged it on and buttoned it. When he was finished he looked like nothing had happened.
Drake snatched up the bloody shirt, rolled it into a bundle and stuffed it into the trashcan, then headed toward the door.
Izzy bolted forward. "Wait. Don't just leave. Please."
His brilliant silver eyes had gone ice cold again. "I'm glad you're okay, but you're right. We wouldn't be good for each other."
With a final, lingering glance at her mouth he let himself through the door and disappeared down the hallway.
Izzy returned to the table to gather up her mess, then abruptly dropped into a chair. Her body was slick with arousal and the reason for that need had just walked away from her. Though he presented a hard demeanor, she had an instinctive feeling her words had hurt him somehow, and she felt terrible about that. Maybe if she explained why she was hesitant, he would understand her need to protect herself.
But was there even any sense in fighting it? He was a SEAL. Current situation excluded they weren't generally settling down types. They lived on adrenalin and camaraderie with their teammates. Drake was exactly the kind of guy she knew she should stay away from.
Hadn't she been left enough in her life?
It probably wasn't fair to compare him to her dad, but they lived kind of the same lives. Her father had been a smoke jumper, living for the excitement of the next fire. Izzy's mom had loved him unconditionally, right up until the day he got injured, bad, then she'd put her foot down. Izzy could remember the sound of their fighting in the next room. Her mother had pleaded with him to take a job closer to home, so that they could see each other every night. But her father had argued, claiming that a nine to five would kill him and that if she loved him, she wouldn't ask it of him.
That had been the last time she'd heard her father's voice. He was called out the next day for a jump and just never returned, deciding that his freedom was more important than their love. Izzy had been ten.
Swiping the trash into a pile, she crossed the room to throw it away on top of Drake's shirt. The thought of his lips on hers replayed in her mind over again, sending a tremor through her body. That ten seconds of bliss was going to replay in her mind for the rest of her life, along with a buttload of regret unless she hoped for something more.
With that thought in mind she left the break room.
Chapter Two
Even better... he found the waiter that had walked in on them earlier.
The young man immediately turned bright red, then tried to play it off. Drake waved away his fumbling words and stuffed a hundred dollar bill in the kid's hand. "Don't say anything about what you saw, or think you saw in that room. Got me?"
His eyes widened, then he started to nod. "Yes, Sir. I mean, no sir. I won't say anything!"
He started to back away, but Drake stopped him. "Find me a bottle of something, would you?"
Again, the kid nodded and backed away, then took off running. Drake smirked at his retreating back and moved to lean against the wall.
Within just a couple of minutes, though, the kid had returned with a bottle of Woodford Reserve and a glass tumbler. Drake's brows lifted in surprise. "Not bad, kid."
Drake tried to hand him more money but he shook his head. "No, sir. Thank you anyway."
The kid disappeared back down the hallway.
Drake had spied a balcony earlier that overlooked the courtyard and the wedding guests. At the time he'd thought it would be a great sniper hideout. Shrouded in darkness and blocked by boughs of pink hanging flowers, he doubted anyone would even see him up there. He had to do some finagling to find the way up, and he might have gone through a door marked private, but once there it was everything he'd wanted- dark, comfortable and had a view of the entire massive courtyard. Cracking the seal on the bottle, he took a moment to inhale. Oh, yeah, this would drown his sorrows just fine.
Izzy had been completely right to turn him away. He wasn't the man for her. If she wanted a quick fuck, yeah. No long term entanglements, definitely. And certainly nothing that could be construed as a relationship.
"I'm leaving any minute," he muttered to himself.
That was the thing about Navy SEALs. They gave everything for the job. Their lives, their bodies. No commitment superseded that. He had accepted a long time ago that there was no chance of any other relationship while he was with the SEALs.
Some of the younger guys had wives and girlfriends, current situation included, but Drake didn't know how they managed. The spouses had to compromise so much just to be with them. And if they had kids it was that much harder.
There were a few couples down there on the patio that seemed to be making it work, but most of them had left the SEALs. Hank Patterson, a former SEAL, had built a security company for the rich and famous. Sadie, his girlfriend, seemed radiant as they talked quietly together, sitting at a round table. Some of the attendees here he had probably aided in some way.
From this vantage point he spied his buddy Gabe Carter and Gabe’s girlfriend Julie. They also looked totally absorbed in each other, and the couple across from them. Gabe had left a few months ago to join the Lost and Found Investigative Service in Denver. From here he looked completely happy.
Maxwell Tate, their former team leader, had left the team and joined LNF almost two years before that. His fiancé Lacey had helped him when he'd had a psychotic break. When Drake had heard about the incident he'd been sad, because Max had been one of the best. Seeing him now, though, as he chatted with Gabe, he looked better than ever physically fit and excited to be there, connecting with old friends.
Seeing the couples below him gave him hope that there would someday be someone for him.
As if Fate had heard him, Izzy appeared beneath his balcony, Pepto-colored dress swirling in the mountain breeze. Leaning forward, he tried to get a look at her face but she was turned away from him. Another woman in a bridesmaid gown called her over and she sat down at a table. It was in a perfect location for him to watch her in the waning light of the afternoon. The women fell into conversation and at one point the brunette leaned forward to give Izzy a hug. Had she been relating details of the attack?
It didn't take long for men to start approaching the two single women. When guests had been invited Drake didn't think they'd taken into account how many more men there would be than women. It was a ratio of about three to one, and as he watched Izzy smile up at men bringing her drinks or just stopping to say hello, he began to seethe. He knew what those young studs were thinking and he wanted to go down to warn Izzy. Then his rational side kicked in. She knew what these men wanted. Hell, it was the same thing he'd wanted a piece of her.
No, he wanted many pieces of her. And he wanted to breathe her in again. Actually, he kind of just wanted to talk to her again first. Although they hadn't talked much earlier. She'd seemed like a person that would be easy to be around. Non-judgmental. Well, beyond the 'you're not a good bet' thing. And he shouldn’t have grabbed her and kissed her. Beyond being caveman-ish it was a pretty aggressive move after the woman had been attacked.
Damn he was getting old... Was this insightfulness something new he was picking up?
Conversation was drowned out by a blast of static. The frantic wedding planner he'd seen running around earlier stepped up to the microphone on the far stage and called for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen. It is my very happy pleasure to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Dylan Cutler!"
Music pounded through the night and Drake watched Dylan and Kiko enter the courtyard area. They waved and laughed, smiling the entire time. Then they turned and kissed each other and the crowd screamed. The SEALs catcalled and as the newlyweds waded into the crowd it truly got a little rowdy. Dylan held onto Kiko the entire time, though as he accepted congratulations, and it did Drake's heart good to see his care of her.
Photographers circled the crowd, flashes going off almost constantly. The newlyweds waded to the stage and Dylan took the mic, looking buzzed and euphoric. "Hey, you yahoos. If we all sit down like good like good little SEALs, we'll be eating shortly." As he looked out over the crowd, he started to get emotional. "I want to thank all of you for being here to witness this amazing woman taking my name. I can't imagine not having my whole family here."
Dylan turned to Kiko and swept her into a kiss. The catcalls renewed even louder than before. Drake's eyes scanned the crowd for Izzy's mop of hair. Yep, there she was right at the edge of the stage. There was a thoughtful expression on her face, as if she were wondering if the newlyweds would actually make it, a thought he himself had had many times.
The rest of the women here were beaming, clapping enthusiastically. But Izzy looked somber and concerned. What was she thinking?
Before he could tell himself to do otherwise, Drake was out of the chair and heading toward the crowd. He didn't know why it was important, but a spirit like Izzy's should never be sad. Maybe he could make her smile again.
Besides, he needed to apologize to her.