Hard Protector: A Seal Contemporary Romance, page 1
Hard Protector
A Seal Contemporary Romance
Jillian RIley
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Description
Becca:
My whole life people told me I grew up spoiled and sheltered; always at the disposal of my billionaire father. After a while, I started to believe them. They said I never wanted or needed anything except Daddy’s approval. They didn’t know what it was like to live with him. I love my father, but he is a hard and difficult man. Then Daddy gets himself kidnapped. It is up to me to keep Foster Trucking and Shipping running. The livelihood of hundreds of Foster’s employees and their families depended on me. To make matters worse several ‘accidents’ have been happening at the warehouse threatening to shut the operation down and with my father’s captors demanding thousands in ransom I realized I couldn’t do it all on my own. Despite our explosive past and all the mistakes I made with his heart, I had to call Blake Snyder not knowing if he would help me or not. If he agreed to help, would I be able to keep him at arms-length or will I have to risk losing my father, my family business, and my heart?
Blake:
Being an ex-Delta Force Operations Specialist and private investigator specializing in hostage negotiation meant I was no fool. I was highly trained to keep my cool no matter how high the stakes or the pressure. Yet when it comes to Becca Foster and her chestnut brown eyes, all my cool went out the window. The spoiled socialite was gorgeous and dynamite in the sack. Our recent past was filled with heat and electricity. But she’s wrapped so tightly around her daddy’s finger, that there was no hope she would ever stand on her own two feet. I have spent the last month determined to forget her. Until one day she called begging me to help her. She was in over her head, and as much as I wanted her to drown, I just couldn’t let her. I vowed to keep it professional, get in, save the old man and get out. I was a pro. But how would I negotiate my feelings for Becca? She swore she’d changed, but could I trust that she wouldn’t run away from me again? Breaking my heart for good?
Chapter 1
“Hey Becca, we needed to hire three short distance drivers to cover Dallas to Lake Charles. I’ve got two but can’t find a third. Oh, and three of the counterbalance trucks aren’t working.”
Becca Foster looked up from her desk as her best friend, and warehouse manager, Eva Miller, popped her head into the office. Dammit, she thought, another problem in the warehouse. Why couldn’t they catch a break, and why did these things always happen in threes? Last week three of the electronic sorters went haywire almost taking the arm off one of their workers. The week before that, three loose adjacent beams fell from a rafter crushing the cab of one of the rigs, almost killing one of the long-haul drivers. Now the counter balances? She hated to bring her father in on it. She knew he would yell, sputter, and probably threaten to take away her position, but things had to be fixed. If an inspector showed up their whole operation could be shut down.
“I can pull some of the applications and take a shot at the last new hire, but let me call Daddy about the trucks,” she said. “We’ll have to get them fixed.”
“Ok,” Eva said, pausing at the door. “Just out of curiosity, when are you going to make the big decisions around here? You know your stuff. It’s a shame we always need to check with your father.”
Ugh, not again. Becca moved her hands to her temples, rubbing to hold back a headache that was threatening to take over. Her blonde hair was coiled in a tight knot at the top of her head, maybe she needed to let it flow loose. She didn’t want to help the headache along. Eva had been on her case for years about standing up to her father to take more control around Foster Trucking and Shipping. It was almost as if Eva cared more about stepping up to Child Foster Sr. more than Becca did. Becca knew she could run the place, but her father was domineering and forceful. He wasn’t ready to retire, and she needed his backing. She was still the little girl who needed her father’s approval and she hated that about herself. But now wasn’t the time for her to rock the boat.
“It’s not the right time Eva,” she replied, exasperated. “We need to get operations back up and running.”
“I know Bec, but really, when will it be the right time?”
“I wish I knew,” she replied into thin air. Eva was already gone. Becca guessed the woman was on her way down to the warehouse floor to meet with the staff. Picking up the phone to dial her father, Becca thought about how loud he would yell when she brought yet another problem to his attention. He wasn’t answering his cell. That’s odd, Becca thought, trying the house phone, also no answer. Becca wondered if Eva was right? Was now the time she asserted more authority around the office? Her father was never without his cell phone, but if he was going to check out of the day-to-day running of the company, someone needed to step up and take charge. Sales haven’t been great as of late, and she had been working on some ideas to streamline loading and routing.
She smoothed her light, beige cashmere sweater as she got up to wander down the hall to his office. Even though it was late summer in Dallas, the offices and warehouse were always kept as cold as possible at her father’s insistence. Sick employees were unable to work, when they were unable to work production suffered. Cold air helped to kill germs. His preaching somber tone rattled in her head as she shivered in the manufactured chill. The lights in his office were out. It looked as if he hadn’t been in yet. It was almost noon, and her father was always in the office early. Spying her brother’s office across the hall, she noticed his light was off as well. No surprise there. Jr. spent more time high and drunk than sober and working. Using the office radio, she paged her father. Maybe he was in the warehouse. He liked to walk among the truckers and the receivers. Under his watchful gaze, all the camaraderie and fun on the shipping floor stopped. Childs Foster wouldn’t have it any other way. He was a firm believer in the separation of the classes. There were workers and there were bosses. The two groups should never cross paths in friendship, or anything else resembling a personal relationship. She had thought she agreed with her father that was until she started working with the Foster’s team directly. She loved the way the staff interacted. A lot of her crew were genuine friends both in and out of work. She loved how everyone was the same and a good days’ work was all that was necessary to stay on top. Her father liked to remind everyone who was boss, but Becca liked to remind everyone she was just like they were, one of the team. She looked at her cell phone puzzled. There was still no answer from the old man. She walked down to the warehouse floor catching up with Eva where she was holding a quick dispatch meeting.
“Has anyone seen Dad this morning?” she asked.
“Not around here,” Eva replied, then shouted out across the wide warehouse to a man on a forklift. “Mike, you seen the old man today?”
Becca turned to see Mike, the warehouse support manager give a negative shake of his head. Her dad hadn’t been there at all. It was unlike him. Worry began to seep in. “Maybe I should head over to the house. Make sure he’s ok?” Becca said.
“I can cover for you here. It’s been slow this morning.”
Pulling up to the family home Becca was surprised to see her father’s BMW in the rounded gravel driveway. He must be planning to leave shortly, she thought. Otherwise, the car would be in the garage. Her father liked to keep his cars in pristine condition which meant not exposing them to the hot Texas sun. Even when he chose to use a driver, they kept the car in the garage until the last possible moment. Something was definitely up. Getting out of her own vehicle she noticed the front door was ajar. Where was the housekeeper, Maria? “Hello? Maria?” she yelled into the foyer, half expecting to hear her father shout back that it was rude to yell out a greeting. “Daddy are you home?” Nothing. No response. Her black four-inch heels clicked across the cold Italian marble as she made her way through the foyer into her father’s study. How could the house be completely empty? Her heart started to beat rapidly, the door to his study was open, but at an unnatural angle, the wood was splintered at its hinges. Peering inside she saw the usually ordered and controlled room was trashed. Papers were strewn everywhere. She touched a finger to the puddle of dark brown liquid that was pooling from the tipped ceramic mug on her father’s antique mahogany desk. Whatever happened here had happened a while before she’d arrived. Enough time had passed for the coffee to cool. Fear snaked down her spine. What happened here. Why would anyone want to hurt her father?
Her cell phone rang, breaking the eerie silence of the room. It was an unknown number, usually Becca would ignore it—telemarketers or sales calls were a waste of time—but somehow, she knew she had to take this call.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Foster you need to listen very carefully if you want to see your father again…alive.” The voice on the other end of the line was altered, she couldn’t tell if
“Ms. Foster are you listening?” the voice asked.
“Yes, I’m here. Where is my father? Is he alive? Is he ok?” she replied, frantic.
“He is alive for now. He will remain alive if you remain calm and do everything we tell you.”
“Where are you keeping him? I’m going to call the police,” she knew she probably made a mistake but didn’t know what else to say. This wasn’t the movies. She needed help. She needed to call the authorities.
“If you want him to live, no police, no FBI. Go back to your office. You’ll act like nothing is wrong. Go about your day and we will call again with further instructions.”
“Wait… what?” she asked, but the line went dead. Her hands were shaking. What the hell was she supposed to do? Every instinct she had was to curl into a ball and sob, but that wouldn’t get anything accomplished. Her father had been kidnapped and they want her to go back to her office? Pretend like nothing was wrong? Rage began to mix with her fear. She was helpless, and her father was being held somewhere. She didn’t know if he was hurt, or worse.
She couldn’t call the police, but she needed help. Someone she could trust. She knew someone who could help her. The image of a tall sexy man, dirty-blonde hair, and deep, thoughtful ocean-blue eyes shot across her mind. Hopefully, his anger with her would have faded a bit over the last month, because if he hung up on her she didn’t know what she would do. She snapped open her cell phone again to dial the familiar Houston number. Blake, please answer, she thought. Please.
Chapter 2
Blake Snyder ran his hands up and down over his denim jeans. Sweaty palms, he couldn’t believe he had sweaty freakin’ palms. He had been involved in dangerous outfits all over the world. He knew how to do what needed to get done. Quick and efficient. He was an elite fighter, trained in all forms of combat. He had helped negotiate the release of 25 hostages from a crazed drug lord in Cambodia. Including women and children. He had been shot at more times than he could count. For Christ’s sake, his nickname in the service had been ‘Steady’ that was not the name of a man who got sweaty palms. But even on the most difficult mission Ex-Delta Force Captain Blake Snyder never had to deal with expense reports.
“You know life at the office was a hell of a lot easier before your wife came along, Acker,” he snapped, only partly kidding, to his friend and co-worker Jaxon Acker. He and Jaxon shared an office in the small office building in Houston where their private investigation firm was headquartered. They weren’t around much, usually an investigation would take them away, but now that Jaxon’s new wife was the company accountant, she required they spend at least some time in the office each month filling out those damned expense reports. The reports weren’t a big deal to Blake, he didn’t spend much or need much money. In fact, before Amelia came along, he couldn’t have told Jax or their boss Ethan when the last time he had turned in an expense report was. Which was probably the point, but he still didn’t like it. Their boss Ethan Dennis demanded they listen to Amelia and like it or not Blake knew how to take an order.
“Watch it Snyder,” Jaxon warned, with a crooked smile. “I’ll take a lot of guff from you on a lot of things, but not where my wife is concerned.”
Blake knew Jaxon was serious despite his lazy grin. Blake never thought he’d live to see the day wildcat Jaxon Acker would settle down with one woman. But when Amelia Bryson came into the picture and it was all over for Jaxon’s prowling ways. When he returned from that job in Grenada six months ago, he was a changed man. Blake had to admit, seeing the two of them together and so clearly in love made him more than a bit jealous. He knew what it was like to be in love. He thought he had met the one on a dicey job, but he was very wrong. Hurt tried to push up through his center as he was reminded that he had turned out to just be a side piece. A way to punish her overbearing, asshole of a father. He just wished he hadn’t allowed himself to get in so damn deep. Now that it was over, he had to fight like hell to keep Rebecca Foster from creeping into his thoughts.
“You know since you’ve been back from Dallas, you’ve been a real pain in the ass Snyder,” Jaxon said.
“Really, how so?”
“Nothing particular, you just seem short tempered. Distracted. What happened in Dallas—you need to debrief?”
“Nah, you’re imagining things. I’m just overworked and overtired is all,” Blake said. He knew his buddy was right, but the hell if he would admit it. Blake didn’t talk about his personal life, not with his partners, not with anyone.
“Alright, I’m available if you need, man,” Jaxon said before leaving the office.
Blake appreciated the comradery he had working with Jaxon and Ethan. He met Ethan when they were both in basic training. Through the years they had managed to keep tabs on each other and stay in touch. He loved his country and he loved his job in Delta, danger, secrets, and all. He had felt like he was a part of something larger than himself, doing his part to keep his country safe from terrorists and war. Delta Force was elite, most of the men lucky enough to be chosen were in for life. Blake would’ve been too if outside factors beyond his control hadn’t come into play. When he was forced into a discharge, to say he was lost was an understatement. His world had crashed down around him. All Blake had known was the Army and Uncle Sam. He didn’t feel fit for civilian life. A stroke of luck found him in the same coffee shop as Ethan one day, they reconnected, and Ethan encouraged him to partner with him in Ex-Force. Aside from joining the army it was the best decision Blake had ever made. He loved working the private sector, he found his special set of skills translated very well. Being a partner meant he could take his choice of cases. His focus was on finding lost people. He was good at it.
That was what had brought him to Dallas in the first place. Childs Foster was a straight up son of a bitch, but he had more money than god. When he needed someone to find his deadbeat drug addict son, Blake was more than up to the task. It took him less than a month to find the man, by posing as a trucker and learning the habits of the men in Foster’s employ. For the most part, they were good guys. Simply trying to earn an honest living. He found out the bad apples found Jr. and completed the job as expected. What he didn’t expect was getting his heart stomped on by Foster and his daughter in the process.
“Dammit, Becca,” he cursed to himself, slamming his fist onto his desk. His computer monitor rattled and a few of his expense reports fell onto the floor. “Dammit!”
As he was picking up his mess, his cell phone rang. Happy for any distraction from Amelia’s paperwork, he answered without looking at the caller info.
“Snyder,”
“Blake don’t hang up, please.” A pit sat in the center of his stomach as the sweet familiar voice begged on the other side of the line. Becca. Was she some kind of witch? Thinking about her conjured her up? He didn’t answer her, but he didn’t hang up either. Why the hell was she calling him? If she thought for a second, he was going to take her back, she was sorely mistaken. He wasn’t looking for more heartache. Once was enough on that merry-go-round. “Blake are you there?”
“Yea, what do you want Rebecca?”
“I need your help,” she said. His stomach flip-flopped. She needed his help? His help? She wouldn’t have dared call him unless it was bad. His first thought was she must be pregnant. Why the hell else would a woman he had been sleeping with less than a month before be calling him for help. Dammit! He raked his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He thought briefly of his mother, he wished to holy hell, she was still alive, she would have been a wonderful grandmother. Of course, if he’d gotten Becca in trouble he would step up. It was written in his code. A man was there for his child. It wasn’t that long ago that he would have loved to watch her rounded belly grow large with their baby. He felt the familiar twinge of desire start to bubble inside him. He pushed it down. There was no way, he had been careful every time, plus she’d been on the pill. It couldn’t be pregnancy. God how the woman could tie him in knots, just with the sound of her voice.
