Read Online HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) by Lynn Raye Harris - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynn Raye Harris
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the one he sold it to. But if she couldn’t get the deal inked tonight, she was going home empty-handed.
Then she’d start working on the Russians while still trying to tempt Fahd long-distance. She typed in a quick text to that effect—well, not the part about Fahd and the Russians—and then went into the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup. Her phone dinged.
M att : Don’t ignore me like that again, C. I’m bigger than you, and I have no problem spanking your ass.
Christina: You just try it, Mattie. I have a knee and I know where to use it for maximum effect.
Matt: Just come home and we’ll pretend this never happened. Where’s your bodyguard, btw? The old man said he sent one with you.
Christina: He’s been sick since we arrived. Stomach bug. Poor guy.
Matt: I don’t fucking care if he’s dying. He shouldn’t leave your side for a second.
Christina sighed. Then she typed out, They aren’t all like you, big brother. He’s a rent-a-cop, not an Army commando.
B ecause while she didn’t know precisely what her brother did, she knew it was pretty intense. Just like Remy.
And didn’t that name in her head just call up all sorts of memories and regrets? She’d only had one night with her smoking-hot SEAL lover, but it had been a pretty spectacular one.
You could have had more, girlie. He wanted more.
So had she, but she’d panicked. And then she’d run. She hadn’t stopped running either. But he’d stopped calling, which was what she’d wanted.
Or had she? Because damn, these past couple of months with no communication from Remy sure had felt lonely. And futile in a way. The day she got the formal divorce decree in the mail, she’d nearly picked up the phone and called him just to have someone to talk to.
Instead, she’d packed a bag and gotten onto a plane to Brazil where she’d met with some oil executives and pitched them a partnership with Girard Oil.
Christina sighed. This was her life now. Girard Oil. Travel and business. It filled the hours.
M att : If you’d told me you were going to Qu’rim, you could have had one of Jack Hunter’s guys.
J ack was one of Matt’s former teammates. He’d married pretty much the biggest pop star in the world, and then he’d gotten out of the military and started his own personal security business. She didn’t doubt Jack’s people would be more than competent.
C hristina : If I’d told you I was going, you’d have tossed me into your basement and thrown away the key.
Matt: Probably. LU. Be safe. Get home.
Christina: That’s the intention.
W hen her phone didn’t blow up with more texts, she breathed a sigh of relief. The television continued to blare dire news, however—and when another explosion rocked the city, Christina gasped as the hotel building shook. Her heart hammered as she ran over to the window and peered out. The sky was orange in the distance. Below the window, traffic snarled. Trucks piled high with people and their belongings sat in tangles while the drivers honked and yelled.
Christina lifted her phone and dialed. A man answered just when she was ready to give up.
“Yeah?”
“You doing better?” she asked Paul, the big dude who’d accompanied her from Texas when she’d stopped at Girard Oil HQ in Houston before leaving for this trip. She could hear the television in the background, and then it went silent.
“Somewhat. We need to get out of here, ma’am. The city is under blockade from the rebels, and someone just said the airport’s been cut off.”
Shit.
“All right, then what’s the plan?”
He was silent for so long that she rolled her eyes. Honest to God, Matt or Remy would have had ten backup plans already. Though, on the other hand, she needed to be fair to the guy. He was sick—but at least he had current information that she did not.
“We need to get a car. Get on the road. Drive to the next town where we can get a flight.”
Christina cursed silently. She should have called Matt
Then she’d start working on the Russians while still trying to tempt Fahd long-distance. She typed in a quick text to that effect—well, not the part about Fahd and the Russians—and then went into the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup. Her phone dinged.
M att : Don’t ignore me like that again, C. I’m bigger than you, and I have no problem spanking your ass.
Christina: You just try it, Mattie. I have a knee and I know where to use it for maximum effect.
Matt: Just come home and we’ll pretend this never happened. Where’s your bodyguard, btw? The old man said he sent one with you.
Christina: He’s been sick since we arrived. Stomach bug. Poor guy.
Matt: I don’t fucking care if he’s dying. He shouldn’t leave your side for a second.
Christina sighed. Then she typed out, They aren’t all like you, big brother. He’s a rent-a-cop, not an Army commando.
B ecause while she didn’t know precisely what her brother did, she knew it was pretty intense. Just like Remy.
And didn’t that name in her head just call up all sorts of memories and regrets? She’d only had one night with her smoking-hot SEAL lover, but it had been a pretty spectacular one.
You could have had more, girlie. He wanted more.
So had she, but she’d panicked. And then she’d run. She hadn’t stopped running either. But he’d stopped calling, which was what she’d wanted.
Or had she? Because damn, these past couple of months with no communication from Remy sure had felt lonely. And futile in a way. The day she got the formal divorce decree in the mail, she’d nearly picked up the phone and called him just to have someone to talk to.
Instead, she’d packed a bag and gotten onto a plane to Brazil where she’d met with some oil executives and pitched them a partnership with Girard Oil.
Christina sighed. This was her life now. Girard Oil. Travel and business. It filled the hours.
M att : If you’d told me you were going to Qu’rim, you could have had one of Jack Hunter’s guys.
J ack was one of Matt’s former teammates. He’d married pretty much the biggest pop star in the world, and then he’d gotten out of the military and started his own personal security business. She didn’t doubt Jack’s people would be more than competent.
C hristina : If I’d told you I was going, you’d have tossed me into your basement and thrown away the key.
Matt: Probably. LU. Be safe. Get home.
Christina: That’s the intention.
W hen her phone didn’t blow up with more texts, she breathed a sigh of relief. The television continued to blare dire news, however—and when another explosion rocked the city, Christina gasped as the hotel building shook. Her heart hammered as she ran over to the window and peered out. The sky was orange in the distance. Below the window, traffic snarled. Trucks piled high with people and their belongings sat in tangles while the drivers honked and yelled.
Christina lifted her phone and dialed. A man answered just when she was ready to give up.
“Yeah?”
“You doing better?” she asked Paul, the big dude who’d accompanied her from Texas when she’d stopped at Girard Oil HQ in Houston before leaving for this trip. She could hear the television in the background, and then it went silent.
“Somewhat. We need to get out of here, ma’am. The city is under blockade from the rebels, and someone just said the airport’s been cut off.”
Shit.
“All right, then what’s the plan?”
He was silent for so long that she rolled her eyes. Honest to God, Matt or Remy would have had ten backup plans already. Though, on the other hand, she needed to be fair to the guy. He was sick—but at least he had current information that she did not.
“We need to get a car. Get on the road. Drive to the next town where we can get a flight.”
Christina cursed silently. She should have called Matt
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