Stranded with the SEAL Read Online Free PDF Page B

wrongdoing, that sort of thing. That’s what happens when you’ve got an army of minions just waiting to cover your tracks.”
    “They find him?”
    Cowboy was starting to get drunk. Real drunk, the kind that made you wish things were different at the same time you stopped caring at all. “No. And he’s got a wife and little kid who was born after he died.”
    “No wonder Hawk’s obsessed.”
    Another crack of thunder seemed to shake the world, and it crossed Cowboy’s mind that God didn’t like this story any more than he did.
    “Fucking Cabo San Lucas,” they chimed.

7
    O livia was aware of the headache long before she opened her eyes, the pain pulsing and seeming to fill her entire experience. When she shifted her position, a wave of nausea bubbled through her stomach and she squinted her eyes open a tiny crack.
    That made it worse.
    She closed them again.
    I think I’m going to be sick.
    She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her middle. She wanted this pain to go away, wanted the edges of her consciousness to be less sharp and aching. She licked her lips. Her mouth was so dry. She needed to find some painkillers and a glass of water, but she’d have to get up, and that was far more than she felt capable of doing.
    An arm reached across her midsection and she gasped. It curled up her chest, the hand grazing her breast.
    She held her breath.
    Who the hell is that?
    Terror sluiced through her. She snuck another peek at the room around her, her eyes focused on the embers glowing brightly in the fireplace, then shifted to take in a gold-flecked bottle on the mantel. Alcohol. The man moaned and snuggled closer to her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
    She must have been drinking.
    Light-headed with panic, she worked to keep her breathing as normal as possible. She took stock of her body, clenching her thighs and the muscles inside her pelvis. Neither were sore or tender like they would be after sex, which didn’t help to explain the man currently pressed against her backside, or what felt like his growing erection.
    She inched away, pain shooting through her left shoulder and down her side and surprising her into stillness. She struggled to remember what she’d been doing before she went to bed, a memory like the smallest thread she could pull and trace back to a sweater, but was unable to think beyond her sore body and the throbbing inside her skull.
    She couldn’t remember anything.
    What if he slipped something in my drink and brought me here without me knowing?
    Her senses were instantly on high alert. As slowly as she could, she eased away from the man and rolled from the couch onto the floor, the movement once again throwing pain through half her body and making her previous headache seem like child’s play.
    She looked back at the still-sleeping stranger, menacing with his sharp jaw and dark stubble. Her eyes stuck on the wide set of his enormous shoulders. There was strength there, enough to make her willowy limbs quake with the possibilities of what had happened to her.
    Come on, Olivia. Think! How did you get here?
    The man rolled to his side, his silhouette dramatizing his bone structure and physique. He was so masculine, like an image of primitive man in a museum somewhere, the kind of man she would have found attractive if her reaction were not threaded with this heavy fear.
    The kind of man she’d have a hard time escaping from in her current condition.
    She needed to get the hell out of here before this guy woke up.
    As she carefully crawled away with her good arm, the pounding in her head begged her to be still as her panic egged her on. There’d be time later to coddle her headache, once she was safe and sound and out of this place. She needed to get home.
    The thought resonated in her head like a punchline and she froze, her eyes widening.
    Home — a word that should conjure feelings of security and peace — brought up only a blank page in her mind. She mentally shook