The Marcelli Bride

Given the admiral’s temper, there was every chance Joe could soon be exploring those other careers. Or stationed on a naval base in Greenland. Screwups came in all shapes and sizes. This one had all the potential firepower of an aircraft carrier. Explaining to the captain that it hadn’t been his fault wasn’t going to change a damn thing.

Fifteen minutes later, the door to the captain’s office opened and the admiral stormed out. Joe stood at attention as the angry man stalked by, then he looked at his commanding officer.

“Come on in, Joe,” the other man said in a weary voice.

Joe entered then closed the door behind him. “Sir.”

Captain Phillips waved to the empty chair in front of his desk. “You hear all that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Phillips, a tall man in his early forties, sighed. “He loved that boat.”

Joe didn’t respond. The information wasn’t news. The admiral had been restoring his nearly eighty-year-old boat for the past five years. The engine was new, and the electronics state-of-the-art, but the rest of it was original, lovingly sanded and varnished by the admiral’s own hand.

The man’s wife had left him, claiming she refused to come in second to a floating hunk of wood, and his children rarely visited, knowing they would be put to work on the boat. Six months ago the admiral had decided to live aboard.

Then, last night, at 9:18, the admiral’s pride and joy had been accidentally blown up by men under Joe’s command. They were lucky the admiral hadn’t been on board at the time.

“Want to tell me what happened?” the captain asked.

Joe shrugged. “The team was celebrating being back,” he said. The Navy SEAL team in question had just returned from six months of hazardous duty out of the country. “They’d all made it out alive. Even Grayson.”

“How’s he doing?” the captain asked.

“Lieutenant Grayson is still in the hospital, sir. He’s recovering from his injuries.”

Grayson had been shot on their last op. His men had brought him back and kept him alive until he’d been evacuated to the hospital ship, then brought back home.

Joe remained perfectly still as he continued. “I spoke with the men on the team yesterday afternoon. They’d had six missions back to back, with minimal downtime in between. I suggested they burn off some steam.”

Phillips nodded. “They decided on boat races.”

“Yes, sir.” Made sense. To a SEAL, the water was a second home. “They used small boats and kept within the marina speed limit.” Sort of. “Unfortunately their racing course took them over a BUDS training exercise.”

The future SEALs had been in their second round of training, learning to dive and work with explosives underwater.

“Last night the explosives were live. Apparently the movement of the boats racing overhead confused a few of the trainees. They’re not allowed to surface to get their bearings. Instead of putting their explosives on the target, they placed them on the admiral’s boat.”

Talk about plain bad luck, Joe thought grimly. “The explosives were small and shouldn’t have caused much damage. Unfortunately the admiral had recently refueled his craft. There was a small leak in the engine. When the explosive went off, it triggered a chain reaction that turned the admiral’s pride and joy into kindling. At least that’s the preliminary report.”

Captain Phillips didn’t speak for several seconds. “Aren’t you going to tell me that the admiral tied up in a restricted area? That he shouldn’t have been there in the first place?”

“No, sir.” What was the point? Joe had been in the navy long enough to know excuses only made the situation worse. Besides, who would have told an admiral to move his boat?

“You have a great career,” his captain told him. “You’ve worked hard, moved up the ranks. I was confident you’d make it to admiral yourself, before you retired.”

Joe had walked into some of the most dangerous situations in the world and lived to tell the tale, but nothing he’d experienced prepared him for the sense of fury that gripped him as he sat there and heard his career talked about in the past tense. The navy was all he knew, all he’d ever wanted.

He’d told the men to go have fun. It was his responsibility. Technically, he could pass the punishment on down, but next in line was Lieutenant Grayson, currently missing most of his right leg and facing a long road to recovery.

No. This time the chain of command stopped here. With Joe.

Phillips flipped open a file. “You’ve been with the SEALs nearly ten years, Joe. You’re a fine officer and one of the best men I’ve ever worked with. The admiral wants you punished, and I want to save your career if I can.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joe said, feeling the first hint of relief.

The captain smiled. “You might want to hold off on your thanks. The best way I know to punish you is to temporarily reassign you to a special project that has nothing to do with the SEALs. The best way I know to save your ass is to get you the hell out of here for a few weeks and let the admiral cool down. As an interesting point of fact, my brother-in-law is fairly high up the chain of command in the Secret Service. I don’t think you knew that.”

“No, sir,” Joe said, not sure what the information had to do with anything.

“You’ve mentioned you have family here in California,” Phillips said. “The Marcellis. They own a winery just north of Santa Barbara?”

“Yes, sir.” Joe had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Technically he was related to the Marcelli clan, but they weren’t his family.

“What you don’t know,” the captain said, “is that the president’s daughter was kidnapped yesterday.”

Joe stiffened as he pictured the attractive, curvy blonde who frequently served as the president’s hostess. “Lauren?”

“No. The other one. Darcy. Apparently they grabbed her by mistake—Lauren was their actual target.”

“How could they screw that up?” Joe asked. Darcy was nothing like her sister in looks or temperament.

“No one knows. The point is, both women are being taken out of Washington and sent to different locations. Safe houses, if you will. They’ll have their usual Secret Service protection, but until the kidnappers are caught, they need to lay low. This is all confidential, Joe. You aren’t to discuss this information with anyone.”

“Of course not, sir.” Joe had no problem keeping quiet. What he didn’t understand was what any of it had to do with him.

Captain Phillips leaned forward. “There is some concern about Darcy. She’s not generally cooperative, and frankly no one wants to be locked up in a safe house with her. The thought is if she can be kept safe but still have a semblance of a life, it will be easier for all concerned. Basically a place that is isolated but not solitary. I thought of what you’ve told me about your family’s winery. There’s a large house, plenty of room for the team and Darcy. I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince you to take this assignment. After last night, I don’t have to.”

Joe put the rest of the pieces together and didn’t like the finished picture. That was to be his punishment. To babysit the president’s daughter and spend time with the Marcellis.

“I have a SEAL team heading out in two months,” he said. “There’s important work to be done.”

“Someone else can take care of that, Joe. Right now the president’s daughter is your responsibility.”

“Sir, sending her to the hacienda is an interesting solution,” he said, “but the winery is not easily guarded. There are hundreds of acres, employees, staff. Plus my relatives would have to be cleared for security purposes.”

“Already done. You’re right about the winery being an open space, but who would think to look for her there? The navy is cooperating with the president at his request,” Phillips told him. “Unless you want to call the president and explain why you’re unwilling to protect his daughter?”

Joe felt the doors of the prison swing closed. “What is my assignment, sir?”

“Coordinate with the Secret Service. Their job is to protect Darcy, but you are to facilitate what they need. Be another pair of eyes. Use your tactical skills to their advantage. When the kidnappers are caught, you’ll return here and we’ll see if the admiral has cooled off enough for you to resume your duties. In the meantime, do what you can to keep Darcy Jensen happy.”

Joe rose and saluted. “Yes, sir,” he said and left.

He was completely and totally screwed, sent away in disgrace, his career in jeopardy. He would be lucky to come back as an ensign.

As for keeping Darcy Jensen happy—from what he’d heard, that was a task even a SEAL couldn’t pull off.

2

D arcy heard the murmurings of her temporary Secret Service team before she heard the knock on the door. The whispered “Swan is here” warned her of her sister’s approach.

She stayed in her apartment bedroom, one of the guys in suits would get the door, and continued her packing. In less than four hours she would be whisked away to an undisclosed location for however long it took to find the crazies after her sister. Based on the Secret Service’s current level of competency, she could be gone for months.

Not knowing where she was headed made packing a problem. All she knew was she was staying in the continental United States and that she was expected to stay very low-key when she arrived.

News flash—she didn’t want to walk around flaunting herself. One kidnapping in a lifetime was more than enough.

She grabbed a handful of shorts, some T-shirts and jeans, and tossed them on the bed.

The bedroom door opened and Lauren entered. The two Secret Service agents with her hovered in the hall then nodded at the single agent standing in the corner of Darcy’s bedroom.

Lauren crossed to Darcy, grabbed her upper arms, and stared into her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding near tears. “Did they hurt you?”

Darcy had a few bruises from her ride in the back of the van, some sore muscles, and several raw spots around her wrists from the ropes. She hadn’t slept at all the previous night and couldn’t imagine ever not feeling afraid again. But the agent in the room kept her from saying all that.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Lauren didn’t release her. “Are you sure? I was so worried.”

A change, Darcy thought. In the past year, she’d been the one worried about Lauren.

“If anything had happened to you…,” Lauren said, those threatening tears finally making an appearance. “I couldn’t stand to lose one more person I love.”

Darcy appreciated the sentiment, knew it was true, and told herself neither of them had time for a breakdown. Lauren had finally surfaced from the emotional devastation of the shocking death of her young husband, and Darcy refused to let her sink back into despair over a botched kidnapping. Darcy might be hearing things go bump in the night, but she refused to let her sister be afraid.

She drew in a deep breath as she took in Lauren’s outfit. The aqua and pink sundress just grazed generous curves in unwrinkled perfection. Delicate pearls graced her sister’s tiny ears. Her sling backs matched her purse, and a narrow woven silver and pearl bracelet completed the ensemble. She wore her long, wavy blond hair pulled back in an elegant clasp. She would fit in equally well having lunch at the club or hosting an afternoon charity event.

“Why do you always have to dress like an Easter egg?” Darcy asked. “Do you own anything in a primary color? I know you could never wear black. How scandalous. The heavens would open and weep.”

Lauren’s intense gaze never wavered. “At least I don’t dress like a former rock groupie in mourning. Does every single outfit have to be tone-on-tone black? It’s summer, for heaven’s sake. Lighten up and wear a color.”