To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs 3)

Chapter One

I saved the hostage.

Dante Raske clung to that thought as he pushed past the lingering pain in his knee. Three months since he’d rushed in and, working alongside one of the best SEAL teams in the U.S. Navy, brought a kidnapped aid worker home in one piece. They’d been outnumbered, but he’d made damn sure they weren’t overpowered. And tore his ACL in the process.

But one surgery, and a few months on the sidelines, was a small price to pay for a woman’s life.

“Is your knee bothering you or are you just taking in the scenery?” Ronan asked as he jogged back to Dante’s side.

Kiss my ass.

But he had enough sense not to say those words to the Navy SEAL officer who outranked Dante’s enlisted butt. Ronan wouldn’t pull rank in this desert. Still, Dante stuck to his new mantra: “It’s fine.”

Ronan, the redheaded SEAL who’d maintained his Scottish accent despite being born and raised in the USA, slowed his eight-minute mile jogging pace and matched Dante’s brisk walk.

“You’re still grounded for how long?” Ronan said, his tone so damn understanding Dante wanted to put his fist through something. “Two weeks until the docs will even consider clearing you for active duty?”

“Yeah.” He grunted, pushing through the pain.

“It was a bad tear, man. If you need more time to rest—”

“One more day at home, sitting on my ass watching my knee heal, and boredom will bury me six feet under,” Dante muttered as he pulled a bandana from his cargo shorts and wiped his brow.

Ronan stopped and turned to him, his hands on his hips. “Look, I know babysitting a country singer doesn’t come close to a real mission. Even if you’re only at fifty percent I’d rather work with you than most of the clowns her manager could scare up. But this gig…”

“It’s important,” Dante said. “I get it.”

He knew Ronan needed the extra cash. And Dante wasn’t going to turn up his nose at the money the singer’s manager was offering for one weekend of work protecting a twenty-something starlet with a few too many adoring fans.

“It’s not just about the money,” Ronan said. After busting their asses together all over the freaking globe, Dante’s teammate could read his mind. “I served with the star’s brother before I joined the teams. It’s important we do this right.”

“I thought you barely knew the guy,” Dante said. His knee hurt, but that didn’t prevent him from giving Ronan a hard time.

“We went our separate ways. But you know how it is after you spend a long deployment with someone.”

“Yeah,” Dante said. “But I think this has more to do with your girl, Casey, being the lead singer for the opening act.”

Ronan smiled. “I don’t mind making a little extra money while working alongside my girlfriend. That doesn’t happen often.”

Dante shook his head. Their teammate Jack had thrust Casey, a down-on-her-luck singer, into Ronan’s lap one night at Bottom’s Up, the bar near their base in Coronado. Jack had been too busy trying to win over the bartender to have eyes for anyone else. And Ronan? Well hell, his teammate always gave 100 percent to his relationships. No one-night stands. He opened his heart to the woman in his bed from day one. The crazy son-of-a-bitch. Didn’t he realize that their

line of work was like a ticking time bomb for relationships?

“Just because I want to be here, doesn’t mean you need to stay,” Ronan added. “I don’t want you to reinjure that knee. We need you out there, man. I can keep an eye on Chrissie, in her brother’s memory and all, while you rest up in sunny California.”

“I’m fine,” Dante repeated. And compared to Chrissie’s brother, the sailor who’d lost his life while serving overseas, Dante didn’t have one goddamn reason to complain.

Sure, his family worried about his knee. His mother had flown out for the surgery. And she’d stayed for three long weeks, cooking up a storm in his cramped one-bedroom apartment. Finally, after she’d packed his freezer full of lasagna, he’d sent her back to Brooklyn.

But fussing over him while he recovered was a helluva lot different than mourning him.

“You sure? You don’t look fine,” Ronan said.

Dante grunted. “I can stand around and be the hired muscle, no problem.”

Ronan nodded. “Good. I’m going to pick up the pace.” He turned and jogged backward for a few steps. “I’m not going to break a sweat walking through this canyon. Meet you back at the truck?”