Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

W hen Corbin approached the security guard at the gate of Sutton Smith’s mansion he rolled down the window of his rental car.

“Your name, Sir?” the guard asked.

“Corbin Spencer.”

The man’s eyes trailed down the list. Then he nodded. “Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks,” Corbin said curtly as he continued to the mansion. It was in a private area of an exclusive section of Coronado Island, overlooking the San Diego Bay. Corbin had spent a handful of weekends here lounging by the pool and doing various other leisure activities, but never without Doug. His gut twisted as he thought about his best friend and fellow SEAL member, who’d been killed during a rescue mission in the Philippines when their platoon was ambushed. It had been seven months since Doug had passed, but tonight on the grounds of his estate the wound felt as raw as it had in the beginning.

When he reached the mansion, a valet attendant approached. “May I park your car, Sir?”

Corbin got out and tossed the keys to the attendant in exchange for a claim ticket. Then he smoothed down his white tuxedo jacket and adjusted the bowtie. He wasn’t looking forward to the pretense of making small talk with a group of strangers at some party. And the worst part … wearing this stupid monkey suit constricting his shoulders like a strait jacket.

Even though the event was black-tie, Corbin had planned to wear nice jeans and a sports jacket. But then, this afternoon, a tux was delivered to his room compliments of Sutton Smith. Too bad it was about a half size too small. Corbin couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to strip the thing off and put on jeans and a t-shirt.

He ran a quick hand through his spiky hair, figuring he was as ready now as he’d ever be. His gaze took in the sprawling English Tudor mansion. The only reason Corbin knew the architectural style was because Doug mentioned that his dad had brought in an English architect during construction to make sure the style was authentic. Sutton Smith’s enormous wealth was staggering, and yet Doug had been so down-to-earth.

The place was brimming with high-society people dressed to the nines. As Corbin strode up the front steps, he thought back to the phone call that brought him here. Corbin was surprised to hear from his late friend’s dad. He hadn’t spoken to Sutton since Doug’s funeral. At that time, Sutton was withdrawn … angry at the world. Corbin didn’t blame the man. He felt the same way about Doug’s death.

Sutton opened the conversation by inquiring what Corbin was doing professionally. Then he extended an invitation to a gathering. Corbin grunted as he looked at the large staff of servers dressed in uniforms, scurrying to wait on guests. When he heard the word “gathering,” Corbin assumed there might be twenty or thirty people present. But this was a full-fledged soirée with more people than he could count.

Corbin was currently living in Denver, Colorado and was short on funds. Before he could make up an excuse about why he couldn’t attend the gathering, Sutton explained briskly that he’d already purchased Corbin a first-class ticket for the following day and booked him a room at The Luxe, a five-star hotel. Sutton went on to say that he had a proposition for Corbin and that he would pay him twenty-five hundred dollars for his time.

A free trip and an extra twenty-five hundred bucks were too good to turn down. Besides, Corbin’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t imagine what Sutton Smith wanted to talk to him about. He scoped the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Sutton. No luck.

He glanced at the string quartet off to the side, playing a merry tune. All around him, people were engaged in lively conversation. The air crackled with the excited hum of people enjoying themselves. The corners of his lips pulled down. There was nothing worse than being a loner in a crowd. Hopefully, he’d find Sutton soon.

“Would you like an appetizer?”

Delaney smiled politely before placing two spinach triangle pastries on her plate. “Thank you.”

The server nodded and moved to the next guest.

It was too bad that Milo couldn’t be here tonight. Then Delaney wouldn’t feel so out of place. Milo had arranged her meeting with Sutton Smith, then realized that his girlfriend’s son had the starring role in a school play. She sighed, taking a bite of the pastry. It was dryer than a chunk of sawdust. She coughed, trying to clear the crumbs from her throat. Now she needed a drink of water. She signaled to the closest server.

“How may I help you?” he said in a brisk, formal tone.

She touched her throat. “Could I get a glass of water?” Before my windpipe closes off .

“Certainly.” He raised his hand and motioned to a girl across the room. She hurried to Delaney’s side and gave her a glass.

Delaney took a few gulps. Okay, no more pastries. She glanced around the room, looking for a place to sit. When she first arrived and told the greeter her name, she was directed to an older lady who introduced herself as Agatha.

“Sutton is expecting you,” Agatha said, “but he’s tied up with guests. As soon as he’s done, he’ll find you. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

Delaney let out a long sigh. From the looks of things, it was bound to be a long night. She really couldn’t complain though because she was just glad Sutton agreed to meet with her. Ever since Hugh had threatened her in the hospital, Delaney had been beside herself. Right after it happened, she called Milo, bawling so hard that she could hardly get the words out. He’d met her at a coffee shop, and she told him the whole sordid story. At first, Milo told her to go to the police. Then she explained how ruthless Hugh was and how she feared the police wouldn’t be able to protect her against him.

Finally, Milo said he might have another option. Delaney had laughed out loud when that option turned out to be billionaire philanthropist, Sutton Smith. Then Milo told her a story about his girlfriend Leslie and how Sutton had saved her from her abusive husband Howie. But Sutton didn’t stop there. He also gave Leslie money to pay for her son’s leukemia treatments. Those treatments had saved the boy’s life.

It was hard to believe that someone like Sutton Smith would do something so kind, asking nothing in return. Sure, he was a philanthropist. But most people like him simply donated money to charity and left it at that. Milo told Delaney that he would put out feelers, see if he could get in touch with Sutton and explain her situation.

The whole thing sounded farfetched, but Delaney was desperate enough to try anything. Fear was eating her alive. She had no doubt that Hugh would make good on his threat, and Tuck’s prognosis wasn’t looking good. The bullet wound had gotten infected. The doctors were amazed that he was still hanging on. Delaney had spent the last few days in a fog, hardly eating or sleeping. She’d tried to work, but it was impossible to get into a creative frame of mind with this hanging over her.

Even though Tuck had been so horrible to her, she didn’t want to be responsible for his death. And then to add Hugh’s threat into the mix, it was too much to deal with. She felt like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Prayer was the only thing keeping her functioning. She’d been praying every day for a miracle. And today, the dark curtain of clouds had parted for one tiny second, giving her hope that help might be around the corner.

Milo called this morning, telling her the good news. “Sutton agreed to meet with you at his estate. But he’s having a party, so it’ll have to be afterwards.”

“I’ll just wait and go after the party’s over,” Delaney had said.

“No, Sutton’s assistant was adamant that you come to the party.”

Milo couldn’t remember the lady’s name he spoke with, but Delaney was sure it was the older woman she’d met earlier … Agatha.

The plate of uneaten pastries was starting to feel heavy in her hand. She didn’t want to hold the blasted thing all night. She caught the nearest server. “Can I give this to you?” Her feet were aching. Why hadn’t she worn lower heels?

The man nodded. “Of course. May I take your glass also?”

“I think I’ll hold onto it. Thanks.” It was one of those moments when Delaney was glad she was on the verge of hitting it big instead of a superstar like Dolly Parton or Montana Crew. It was good to still have some degree of anonymity. Of course at an event like this, most of the people were prominent and too preoccupied with their own importance to worry about Delaney’s.

Absently, her mind wandered over the crowd. She caught sight of her bodyguard keeping a respectable distance. He gave her a slight nod as if to say, I’m nearby, doing my job . Her gaze moved to two middle-aged women engaged in an animated conversation. They were both so skinny they looked like skeletons, their faces stretched like plastic from so many cosmetic surgeries. Absently, she glanced toward the entrance as she took another sip of water. She nearly choked when she saw a man stride in, his angular jaw set firm like he owned the place. It had been a long time since she’d even noticed a man’s appearance, much less found anyone attractive. Partly because she’d been too wrapped up in her career and mostly because the ordeal with Tuck had left her fearful about having a relationship. But she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away from this guy.

He had a rugged edge like he would’ve been more comfortable in casual clothes, although he certainly knew how to fill out a tux. He was a little over six feet tall with lean muscles—GI Joe on steroids. He walked with purpose, his eyes scoping the room like he was looking for someone. It’s me! I’m the one you’re looking for. She laughed at herself. Seriously? Where had that thought come from? The fact that she was even noticing a guy right now spoke to her frenzied emotional state. If Tuck didn’t pull through, she’d soon be fleeing for her life. Her career would be snuffed out before it even got a chance to blossom. She’d have to go into hiding. And even then, Hugh would eventually find her. As bad as Tuck was, Hugh was a thousand times worse. He wouldn’t think twice about taking her life, or anyone else’s who got in his way. Her chest constricted, sweat beading across her nose. She balled her fist, willing herself to calm down. Hopefully, Sutton would be able to help. She had to keep her mind fixed on the hope of deliverance.

The guy’s gaze connected with hers, sending a dart of warmth coursing through her veins. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and she felt herself smile back. The room shrank, all the people around her melting into a blur, and there was only him and her. Her heart hammered in her chest. He was coming her way. No! She couldn’t do this! This guy would hurt her the same way Tuck had. Why was she always attracted to the wrong sort of man? This guy was tougher than nails, a rebel. She could tell from his swagger, the confident glint in his eyes.

She broke eye contact and quickly turned her back to him. She wasn’t here to pick up on men. The fact that she’d felt so attracted to some random guy made her sick to her stomach. Hurriedly, she threaded through the people, intent on getting as far away from GI Joe as she could.

That was odd … the girl. Talk about hot and cold. One minute, she was giving Corbin a come-hither look, and the next, she was turning her back and running the other direction. He scowled. She was probably some high-society chic playing games. Too bad. She was stunning to look at. And for an instant, when their eyes locked, he’d felt a connection.

He threaded his way to the wall where he could observe the people in the room from a more inconspicuous place. Plus, he liked having his back protected. Still no sign of Sutton. Odd that he’d be MIA at his own party. Then again, there were so many people here, and the place was enormous. Sutton could be anywhere. He stood for another twenty minutes or so, still no sign of Sutton.

Finally, he got bored from being in the same spot and strode over to the bar and ordered a drink as he sat down at an open barstool. What must it be like to live a life of such grandeur? He thought of the modest cabin in the tiny town of Birchwood Springs, Colorado where his grandfather Pops and sister still lived. It was certainly a simpler life than this. And as far as Pops was concerned, the only way to live. Guilt tugged at him. It had been too long since he’d been home. He knew he should go back, but he couldn’t handle thinking about Gram’s situation.

The bartender returned with his drink. He mumbled out thanks and took a drink, the liquid burning like fire down his throat. He looked to his right and realized a pretty redhead was giving him the eye. He offered a brief smile before angling away from her. The girl was flashy, obviously on the make. He’d been around her type enough to know that he wasn’t interested.

He looked to his left and did a double-take. It was her—the blonde he’d seen when he first arrived. Sitting a few seats away from him. As stunning as she’d been from afar, she was even more so up close. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a sheet of glimmering honey. The form-fitting red dress hugged her curves in a classy way. He’d hoped she might look his direction, so he could get her attention, but she was staring down at her drink, like her mind was a thousand miles away. Sure, she was beautiful, but there were lots of beautiful women in this room. For a moment, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that had captured his attention. Then it hit him—it was the haunted expression on her face. It called to his own wounded soul.

Corbin’s throat went dry as he swallowed, his pulse ratcheting up a few notches. He had to get to know this woman. The compulsion was nearly overwhelming. He laughed inwardly. Was he losing it? He’d gotten very little sleep the night before. Maybe exhaustion was taking its toll. The woman had given him the brush-off. She obviously wasn’t interested in him. He took another swallow of his drink, his blood pumping like a piston through his veins.

Before his mind could register what his body was doing, he stood, drink in hand. Without asking for permission, he sat down beside her. Her eyes widened as she glanced at him.

“Hello.” A stupid grin washed over his face. He didn’t really know what he expected would happen when he made the split-second decision to sit down beside a stranger and try to start up a conversation. But he certainly didn’t expect her to give him such a scathing look, like he was the scum of the earth, before turning her attention back to her glass.

Hot needles pricked over him. Shot down before you even got off the ground. He was a big boy and could handle it. Earlier, she’d noticed him first. He’d felt her eyes on him, which is why she initially caught his attention. “Nice party.”

She grunted.

He laughed. “That exciting, huh?” He downed the rest of his drink with a couple of swallows, feeling the alcohol buzz to his head. He couldn’t believe she was flat-out ignoring him. Not the sort of treatment he was used to getting from the opposite sex. Normally, he had to beat the women off him. He watched as she stirred her straw through the ice cubes and took a drink. The graceful movements of her slim fingers were mesmerizing. A smile flitted over his lips as he realized what was happening. She was playing hard-to-get. He loved a good chase. It made things … interesting.

The bartender approached. “Can I get you another drink?”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Corbin said casually. He thought that would at least earn him some sort of response.

Nothing.

Okay, this was getting awkward. Maybe he should cut bait and move on.

“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding the drink to him.

“I don’t see it,” Corbin said.

Silence.

“Are you sure it’s there?”

At that, she turned. “What?” she asked, only mildly interested.

“Whatever it is you find so fascinating at the bottom of your drink.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He motioned, fighting a smile. “You were staring into your glass like it held the secret of the Bermuda Triangle, so I figured it must be important.” He expected her to at least give him a courtesy laugh for the effort, but she just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her glass.

Corbin took a gulp of the drink, then sputtered in disgust. “This is club soda.”

She cut her eyes at him. “You have such discriminating taste.”

At least he’d caught her attention, but her words were flat and dead. Not even the slightest bit of emotion in them. Sheesh . This woman was tough. “Are you always this friendly?” he asked dryly.

As she turned to face him, his mind cataloged her features. Long lashes, dark mysterious eyes, full lips painted apple red to match her dress. Her brow lifted in faint amusement. “Are you always this desperate?”

Her soft Southern accent was such a contrast to her insult that it rendered him speechless for a second. “I would hardly call trying to make polite conversation desperate.”

“Is that what you call this?”

“Of course,” he blustered. What was it about this woman that was making him so jumpy? He never got tongue-tied around women. Normally, the compliments rolled out of him like ballads with the ladies eating up every word. But not this woman. He forced a laugh. “Well, yeah. What else?”

She shrugged. “A poor attempt at hitting on me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he retorted. Her eyes widened in surprise before her face flushed, making her look even more incredible. He felt kind of bad for cutting her down and tried to think of a way to soften the blow. Then it occurred to him. She looked familiar. He cocked his head, trying to figure out where he’d seen her. “Have we met before? Do you live here, in San Diego?”

Her mouth drew into a tight line. “That’s none of your business.”

“I wasn’t trying to pry … only trying to figure out how I know you. Have you ever been to Birchwood Springs, Colorado?”

She clipped out a single word. “Nope.”

Corbin was unprepared for the sting of disappointment that prickled through him. This woman meant nothing to him. Why was he taking her rejection so personally? She’d clearly dismissed him. The polite thing to do would be to get up and move. But Corbin had never been one to follow the rules of decorum. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes widened in exasperation as she turned to him. “Buddy, can’t you take a hint? I’m not interested.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m only trying to carry on a conversation.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m going to ask you one final time. Leave me alone.”

“Okay, I will. But first, you have to tell me your name.” Geez . He was coming across as a love-starved jerk. He’d come here to meet with Sutton, not pick up on chicks. But this woman was messing with his head. Crazy, because he didn’t even know her. And she obviously had zero interest in him, but she’d been checking him out earlier. Talk about mixed signals! This woman was a master at it.

She looked past Corbin, exchanging some sort of information with the person behind him. Corbin turned as a heavyset guy with bulging biceps approached. His thick brows bunched as he sized-up Corbin. “Is this guy giving you problems, Miss Mitchell?” His voice had a warning edge, the kind tough-guys used in the hope it would send all opposition running. Not gonna happen, buddy.

The name clicked, as Corbin experienced an a-ha moment. “You’re Delaney Mitchell, that country music singer.” No wonder she was being standoffish. She was probably used to guys trying to pick up on her. Then he remembered hearing something about her on the news. She’d shot her ex-husband when he broke into her condo. Yep, the woman had some major baggage. He had to laugh at himself. A roomful of people, and he was drawn to the one who was as messed up as he was. Par for his luck.

“I tried to tell him I wasn’t interested, but he won’t take a hint,” Delaney said.

“I was only trying to make conversation,” Corbin mumbled. “You looked lonely … like you needed a friend.” Why was he even bothering to explain himself to this woman? Her gaze connected with his. For a split second, something flickered in Delaney’s eyes and he caught that wounded expression that had drawn him in. Then a curtain went down, her eyes going hard. “I told you to leave me alone,” she said coldly.

Without thinking, he touched her arm. “Hey,” he began.

It was the wrong move. The big man grabbed Corbin’s collar and yanked him to his feet. “Come with me,” he ordered.

Instinct took over as Corbin threw a punch that connected with the man’s jaw. He heard the crack at the same instant the sting of the impact reverberated through his knuckles. The big man stumbled back, disoriented. Corbin side-swept his leg, sending him crashing to the ground. There were several gasps from people nearby as they stepped back. Their shocked faces cut through the heady anger, making Corbin feel ashamed. He’d come here to honor his late friend and to reconnect with Sutton, not get in a bar brawl with some hoity toity musician’s bodyguard.

He gave Delaney a disgusted look. “I was only trying to get to know you. Lady, you have much too high of an opinion of yourself.” He grunted. “Good riddance.” He bent over to offer the guy a hand up. The guy clutched his hand, but instead of using it to get up. He pulled Corbin forward and punched him in the jaw. Pain rippled through Corbin and with that pain came a scorching anger that overshadowed reason. They rolled on the floor, trading blows. Then Corbin sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could go like this all night. In some perverse way, it felt good to vent the anger and frustration continually warring inside him. The man also lumbered to his feet. He wiped the thin trail of blood flowing from his lip, breathing heavily. A humorless grin ruffled Corbin’s lips. “Have you had enough? You should’ve left well enough alone, friend. I was trying to help you up.”

The hulk lunged at him, but Corbin easily dodged out of his way. A crowd had circled around them. It just went to show that regardless of whether folks were high or low-class, they loved the thrill of the fight.

The man came at him again. Corbin stepped to the side causing the lug to run headfirst into the bar. Corbin assumed that would be the end of it, but the hulk turned to face him, his eyes dark slashes as he shook off the hit. When he charged again, Corbin twisted behind him and got him in a chokehold. The man’s face turned purple, his arms flailing. Then he slumped to his knees and fell face-first on the floor, passed out cold.

Corbin glanced down at the streaks of blood on his white tux jacket. He looked at Delaney, who was ghostly white. “It didn’t have to be this way.” He rubbed his jaw, still smarting from the hits, then glanced at the spectators. “Show’s over,” he grumbled.

He got a couple of steps away when four security guards in black suits approached. He crouched getting into a fighting position. So this is how they wanted to play it. Fine with him! When the first guy charged, he clocked him in the face, knocking him down. He got the second with a swift sidekick to the gut. As he was fighting the third, the fourth attacked from behind. A sharp pain splintered up the base of his skull as he fell to his knees, the room spinning. His mind screamed fight , but his body refused to cooperate. In another second, the security guards had Corbin pinned on the ground, slapping handcuffs on his wrists. They lifted him to his feet, breathing curses as they hauled him away.