Bullseye: Seal. Carol Ericson

her lips. She knew she’d been taking a risk meeting that man in the alley, but she had to know if Ricky was alive. “You’re right, but he offered a compelling lure.”

      “That’s exactly what it sounds like to me—a lure. That man in the alley wants something from you and figured the best way to get you to go with him was the story about your dead husband.”

      Hunching forward, she grabbed his wrist. “But what if it isn’t a story? What if RJ’s father is alive? I have to know.”

      “Forget about it, Gina. He’s dead.”

      She flung his arm away from her. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything. I’m sorry I told you.”

      “Why, because you don’t want to hear the truth?”

      “It’s a possibility. Don’t you understand that? I have to know for sure, for RJ’s sake.”

      “He’s dead, Gina.”

      “Stop saying that. How can you be so sure after hearing just a portion of the whole story?”

      “I am sure.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I was there when your father and husband were shot and killed.”

       Chapter Four

      Ice water raced through her veins. She gulped against the sensation of drowning, but the air never seemed to make it to her lungs. She sputtered and gasped.

      The stranger across from her squeezed her knee. “Do you need some water?”

      “Water?” She gurgled. Why would she need water when the stuff threatened to overwhelm her?

      “Gina, are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this.”

      “Spring what?” She pressed her hands to her face, her skin cool and clammy beneath her touch. “Who are you? What do you want from me? Have you been the one sending those texts?”

      His lying eyes widened. “Texts? Someone’s been sending you texts?”

      She tried to hop off the stool but forgot her feet were hooked around its legs, and she fell forward instead. His arms curled around her, breaking her fall as she landed against his chest.

      “I’ve given you a shock.” He gently lifted her from the stool and set her on wobbly legs. “A table opened up in the corner. Let’s grab it.”

      She didn’t want to grab anything with this man, but she couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, never mind launch some kind of offensive against him.

      She allowed him to lead her to the table and she plopped down in the chair.

      He placed her mug of beer in front of her. “Have a drink.”

      Wrapping her hands around the heavy glass, she raised it to her lips and gulped down half the mug. Then she wiped the foam from her mouth with the back of her hand.

      “Are you going to tell me who you are or am I going to whip that weapon out of my purse for encouragement?”

      He had the nerve to smile, if that’s what that twist of his lips meant.

      “I’m glad to see you’re coming around. You had me worried there for a minute.”

      “Stop stalling, Josh Edwards, or whoever you are.”

      “Josh Elliott—only a partial lie.”

      She ignored the hand he held out to her. “That doesn’t tell me a thing. What are you and why are you stalking me and how do you know about my father and my husband and how they died?”

      “I’m a United States navy SEAL.” He pulled out a wallet and snapped an ID card on the table between them.

      Pressing her lips into a line, she poked it with her finger as if it could bite her. It looked official, but she knew all too well anything could be faked or forged. “And?”

      “We assisted the CIA in Colombia when they took down the controlling members of the Los Santos drug cartel and the two terrorists they were meeting.”

      She flinched, nearly biting her tongue. “Terrorists?”

      “The two men your father was meeting with that day—known terrorists.”

      The ice in her veins turned to molten lava as rage coursed through her system. “My father was meeting with terrorists in his home, while I was there? While RJ was there?”

      “Afraid so.” He cocked his head at her.

      He didn’t believe she didn’t know.

      “How did you assist the CIA? I didn’t see any military there that day.”

      He blinked once, his spiky black lashes falling over dark eyes filled with secrets. “That’s classified information. Let’s just say we were there for protection.”

      “Not mine.”

      “Did the CIA...rough you up?” His jaw tightened.

      “Did they pull out my fingernails under a bright bulb? Not quite, but it was no picnic, and the DEA was even worse.”

      “I’m sure it was...traumatic to lose your father and husband in that manner.”

      She flicked her fingers. “That was then. This is now. What are you doing here?”

      “I’m here to protect you.”

      She snorted. “From what?”

      “From that man in the alley who pretended he was going to take you to your dead husband.” He steepled his blunt fingers. “From whomever is sending you text messages.”

      The worry she’d been experiencing ever since she’d received that first text washed over her once again, and she clutched her stomach. The sudden pain in her gut could be from mixing mojitos and beer, but she didn’t think so.

      “Ricky really isn’t alive?”

      “No way.”

      She took a slow sip of beer this time and licked the nutty taste from her lips as she considered this latest piece of news. Would this navy SEAL have any reason to lie to her...about this?

      “I still don’t understand. Why am I in danger all of a sudden?”

      Folding his arms on the table, he lifted his chin. “Why don’t you tell me what was in those texts?”

      She dug her cell phone from her purse and skimmed through her messages. She stopped at the first one she’d received and read it aloud. “‘Where are the drugs? Where are the weapons, paloma?’”

      “Paloma? Dove.”

      “I-it was Ricky’s nickname for me. Nobody knew about that name. That’s why I believed that man tonight when he said Ricky was alive.”

      “I wouldn’t put much stock in that. Ricky could’ve told anyone about it. Drugs and weapons? What do you know about drugs and weapons?”

      She jerked back, putting more space between her and Josh’s intense gaze. He might be here to protect her, but he didn’t trust her.

      She didn’t trust him either.

      “I don’t know anything about drugs or weapons. I had nothing to do with my father’s business and didn’t even know his business until shortly before I was married.”

      “Once you knew his business and your husband’s was drugs, why would you choose to put your son in danger by bringing him to that house?”

      Gina crossed her arms, digging her fingernails into her biceps through the material of her silk blouse. She locked eyes with Josh, but this time the passion