Bodyguard SEAL (SEALs of Coronado Book 8) by Paige Tyler (best classic literature txt) 📗

Even before the mission in Yemen, he’d laid off the deep-sea workouts, trying to baby his knee. It had been nearly five weeks since he even tried it. Watching the deep blue water rise and fall, and seeing the waves lap onto the sand made him eager to do it again. But that would have to wait until after this bodyguard gig. Besides, his knee was doing good. He didn’t want to do anything to screw it up.

He headed over to the front of the house to grab his overnight bag from his SUV. His mouth curved as he thought of Peyton, replaying the stuff they’d talked about at lunch, then while she’d been showing him around the place. The mere suggestion that a woman as attractive, intelligent, and witty as Peyton could be in between boyfriends seemed too insane to consider. How could there not be a line of men a mile long trying to get with her?

He was still thinking about that as he rounded the corner of the house and saw a Black F-150 truck pulling up next to his SUV. He barely had a chance to recognize the vehicle before Sam, Wes, and Lane jumped out and headed for the front door, all three dressed in camouflage uniforms. What the hell were they doing here in the middle of a work day?

Knowing there was only one way to answer that question, he hurried to intercept them before they could ring the doorbell.

“I assume you guys are looking for me,” he said as they all turned his way. “Though to be honest, I’m more interested in how you found me than in why.”

Sam grinned. “Chasen mentioned you were out walking on the beach, so we knew something was up considering how much you frigging hate exercising on sand. When we stopped by your place, a neighbor said you left hours ago with an overnight bag, so I called your sister. She ratted you out in nothing flat.”

Noah ground his jaw. There were definitely disadvantages to having friends who knew him so well. Not only did Sam know Laurissa’s number, but also how much he hated exercising on the beach. Ever since going through the twenty-four weeks of hell that was Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training, where running through the surf and sand until you puked was a near daily occurrence, he had a thing about working out there. He might love swimming in the ocean, but running—or even walking—on the sand? No way. Not unless someone forced him to do it.

“So, what’s up?” Wes asked. “Laurissa wouldn’t give us any details, only that you were at this address doing something important. What the hell, dude? You go out and get another job while on medical leave?”

He didn’t say anything, because honestly, what the hell could he say that would explain any of this?

“Holy crap!” Lane said, looking at Noah in shock. “That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? You got bored sitting around your apartment playing video games and decided to get a job.”

Noah couldn’t help but stare at the effing new guy. “What would you know? You’ve only been in the platoon for a month and we haven’t spent more than fifteen minutes in the same room together.”

Lane snorted. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” Noah grimaced. “I never knew I was so transparent.”

“Well, you are,” Wes said. “But if you needed something to keep you occupied for a few hours a day, you could have volunteered to be a door greeter at Walmart or something. Not whatever this is.” He gestured toward Peyton’s house and the pricey piece of beach front property she owned. “You didn’t get yourself mixed up in anything illegal, did you?”

Noah did a double take. “What? No! Why would you even think something like that?”

Wes shrugged. “You have to admit, our team has a history of making bad choices when it comes to the law. Hell, a couple months ago I spent the night in jail for one of my less stellar decisions. So, I’m in no position to judge if you decided to do something stupid.”

Noah remembered. That situation had definitely been messy.

“Well, you can chill out,” he said. “I don’t claim to be brilliant, but I’m not reckless enough to get involved in anything illegal. The woman who lives here—Peyton Matthews—is a writer who’s a friend of Laurissa’s. Someone broke in last night while she was out and tried to steal the book she’s writing. Her publisher wanted to hire a bodyguard and Laurissa recommended me.”

His Teammates stared at him like pigs looking at a Rolex.

“Very funny,” Sam muttered. “What are you really doing here?”

Noah scowled. He supposed he couldn’t blame the guys for not believing him. Noah barely believed it and he was living it.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Wes said when he didn’t answer. “This house really belongs to Peyton Matthews, the writer? Hell, I don’t even read romance and I’ve heard of her. And you’re actually her bodyguard?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he said. “Yes, this is really Peyton Matthew’s house. And yes, I’m actually her bodyguard. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m not taking any payment for it. I asked the publisher to donate the money to a military charity.”

Noah filled them in on the whole story, including the part about Peyton storing her book on a hard drive she carried around with her, and the working theory that whoever was trying to get their hands on the book might be connected to some kind of book pirating operation.

“If you need backup, just ask,” Sam said. “If we aren’t on alert status for another treasury mission, we’ll be here.”

Knowing his buddies had his back meant a lot to him and Noah was about to thank him for the offer when his head caught up to the other stuff Sam said.

“Thanks. I’ll definitely call if I need any help, but what do you mean about another treasury mission?” He was curious even if he couldn’t be a part of it. “I