A SEAL's Fantasy. Tawny Weber
aside.
Resigned, he watched her headlights fade into the dark night and sighed. It wasn’t his bruises or irritation that made him a bad bet tonight, he realized. It was the same nagging feeling that’d been dogging him for the last couple of months.
Dissatisfaction.
What the hell was up with that?
Dominic was a man who made a point to be satisfied. In every way, every chance he got. Some might say he specialized in it.
So why the hell was he so damned bored?
Bored, discontent and frustrated.
All new emotions, and not one of them welcome.
Needing to move, wanting the rush of speed, Dominic straddled his Harley, tugged on his helmet and rode.
In the next three hours, he covered most of Sonoma. The wine country had a special beauty in the moonlight, but even that didn’t help clear his mind. Finally, annoyed and still clueless over what he wanted to do, Dominic headed for the Castillo Ranch and home.
He cruised through the wide gate, its bronze C and R woven around the image of a horse, and throttled back. The sun was just making its appearance, casting a golden glow over the fields on either side, which meant the family was probably rising. Still, his nana slept late and her cottage was just around the bend.
The ranch housed thirty family members and a handful of hands and provided homes for a few, like Dominic, who needed their own place but didn’t live there full-time. He came to a dirt road that cut through the emerald expanse of grass before curving behind a hill. His cabin was a few miles back. Remote, the way he liked it, and private. He spent most of his life sharing quarters. First with his brothers, now with his SEAL team. When he was home, he liked his space.
But he didn’t take the turn. Instead, he barreled straight on down toward the main house. Ranch-style, it was big and sprawling, surrounded by gardens and manicured lawns. Lights glinted in the windows, especially, he noted, in the kitchen. Good. That meant Rosa was up, and likely making pancakes.
Dominic swept his motorcycle back behind the house to the wide driveway. Before he could cut the engine, his brother flew out the back door.
“Where the hell you been?” Lucas snapped, looking as if he was going to reach over and grab his younger brother right off the bike.
Just to be contrary, Dominic took his time slipping off his helmet and ran his hand over the stubble of his military haircut. He hooked the helmet over the handlebar, then swung his leg off the bike, shoved both hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels.
“What’s up?” he asked with a half grin. “I miss curfew?”
“Don’t you answer your phone?”
“Not when I leave it on my dresser by mistake,” Dominic said with a shrug. He didn’t carry a cell phone on duty, and he spent most of his life on duty. So unlike his brother, he didn’t hyperventilate without an electronic leash in his pocket.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for the last couple of hours.”
“Here I am,” Dominic pointed out. “You can reach me now.”
“Before me, your buddy Brody was trying to reach you.”
“Brody?” Brody couldn’t have called. Petty Officer Brody Lane was on day two of a mission in Guatemala, taking down a drug lord who was pissing off the good ole U.S. of A. Lucas had met Brody a few times when he’d visited Dominic in Coronado or when Brody had tagged along on leave to the Castillo Ranch. “Dude, you want to play games, play them when I’m awake.”
“No game. Your buddy called. He has a problem.”
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Maybe if you carried your phone, you’d know.”
“Cut the crap and tell me what’s going on,” Dominic snarled, worry tight in his gut. Brody wouldn’t call unless the issue was major.
Chest to chest, the brothers glared at each other. Then, with a look that said he was doing his little brother a favor, Lucas stepped back.
“A mission went bad. Your friend didn’t say that. He didn’t offer any information except for you to call him as soon as you got back, no matter what time it was.”
Crap. Hell, damn, crap.
Dominic paced, his boots kicking up dirt as he stomped from one end of the bike to the fence and back.
“How do you know he’s on a mission?” he asked finally. “It could be anything. Hell, Brody might be calling for bachelor party advice, seeing as he’s getting married next month.”
Yeah, that was lame. Lucas didn’t roll his eyes, but he looked as though the effort cost him. Instead, he gave a jerky one-shouldered shrug and glanced away for a second. Just one, but it was enough to make Dominic growl.
“Dammit. I told you to quit hacking military computers. That shit’s top secret.”
“I don’t. I mean, not as a rule.” Lucas grimaced. “Just, you know, once in a while, to keep in practice. Like maybe when I know you’re doing something really dangerous. Just so I know to tell Ma to light an extra candle.”
Holy crap. Dominic shoved both hands through his short hair, the thick stubble scraping his palms. For one second he envied his teammates who didn’t have families. No nagging, no nosiness, no pain-in-the-butt interference.
“You get caught, you’re going to prison,” he finally said.
“I told you, I didn’t hack anything top secret. Nothing military, even.”
This time went unspoken.
“Then why are you claiming a mission went bad? Brody didn’t tell you that.”
“No, but he wouldn’t call at three in the morning to get Lotta’s number. I figured something was wrong, so I did some poking around.” When Dominic just glared, Lucas shrugged again. “You said something earlier about plenty of people speaking the language. Since the only ones you speak are English and Spanish, I pulled info on a few hot spots in Guatemala that might require specialized intervention.”
Pride and irritation surged in equal measures. It was a good thing Lucas was as honest as the day was long.
“You are a pain in my ass,” Dominic muttered. “That mission is top secret.”
Top secret. And still underway. He clenched his teeth against the stirring of the hair on the back of his neck, warning serious shit was going down. Brody was supposed to be in Guatemala right now, blowing the hell out of a drug lord’s compound, taking down his cartel and ending his reign of terror.
Not making phone calls in the middle of the night.
“When’s he calling back?”
“He didn’t say.”
Of course he didn’t.
“You okay?” Lucas stepped forward, looking concerned. He shot a glance at the big house, then back at Dominic. “Do you want me to do some more searching? See what happened?”
Lucas thought he could poke his digital fingers into a U.S. Navy SEAL operation. One that took place outside of the country, and was classified as a top-secret government mission. Dominic gave a halfhearted laugh, scrubbing his hands over his face. Likely big brother probably could. But that didn’t mean he was going to.
“No. I’ll wait.”
“Want breakfast?” Lucas jerked his head toward the house.
Appetite gone, Dominic shook his head. He’d take the call in private.
“I’ll check in later,” he said, pulling his helmet back on. Even though he was on private property, if he didn’t wear it, his mother would have a tizzy.