Chapter 1 #2
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, 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 its 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."