Protecting Jenna (NCIS Series Book 8)

  Protecting Jenna

  NCIS Series

  Zoe Dawson

  Protecting Jenna (previously published under a pseudonym)

  Copyright © 2021 by Karen Alarie

  Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, and especially Lisa Fournier. As always, you guys are the best.

  To the Blue Angels and the dedication and precision it takes to become one of them. After all the books that I have written, the Navy is very near and dear to my heart, so I salute you all as a symbol of Navy Pride. The sky is the limit…

  Chapter One

  The Embassy of the United States of America

  Khida, Ja’arbah, Middle East

  I don’t want children, Jenna. I thought you realized that when we married.

  Jenna Webb walked up the embassy steps on her way to meet her husband for dinner. The husband who had dropped the bomb on her just last night: no children.

  She spied Sergeant Austin Beck, who must have just come off guard duty, still dressed in his uniform—short-sleeved khaki shirt, midnight blue trousers with a red stripe, and the white peaked hat or, as the military referred to it, cover. He was a momentary distraction from her thoughts; every time she laid eyes on him, even through her current distress and unhappiness, her heart beat just a little bit harder.

  He paused on the stairs to talk to someone, and Jenna looked up the length of the Chancery to the window of her husband’s office building.

  She sighed softly, remembering how he’d informed her in that brook-no-argument voice, as if that was the final word. No children. That had floored her. Of course, he was twenty-five years older than she was. At twenty, she’d been coaxed into the marriage by her father. She'd even left school halfway through her degree in architecture, convinced that Robert was the right man for her. She had been…was in love with him four years later, but had it been the starry-eyed kind? Was she starting to see clearly for the first time in her life? Could she give up on herself again? She regretted not finishing school, not pursuing her ambition to follow in her mother's footsteps. Jenna had admired her so much.

  Her father had meant well, even with his overprotective instincts. Her mother, a renowned architect, had been killed in an insurrection overseas when she was on a job. Her father had been devastated, and she’d found herself giving in to his wishes to save him more pain. But her choice of degree and vocation weighed heavily on him and she could see how it worried him to the point of affecting his health. Had she allowed herself to be blinded by her father's distress, thinking once she was married, she would be content to be a wife and mother, especially a mother?

  Even as she realized that disappointment was part of life, she felt that Robert had led her on. Emotion welled in her chest, her throat getting thick, tears hovering. She pushed them back. This would be a terrible place to have a breakdown. She couldn’t be late. Robert hated it when she was late. That hadn’t always been the case. Robert had been attentive and sweet to her throughout their courtship.

  But if her father, God rest his soul, had known that her CEO husband would become an ambassador and take her to many overseas assignments, he would have never recommended marriage to him. A little nagging voice told her she might have made a mistake.

  When she got married, Jenna had every expectation that motherhood was an unspoken promise. But it was a bitter and disappointing pill that she’d never know the joy of having kids of her own. Children she could give all her unconditional love to without fear of them not loving her back. Losing her mom when she'd been eight had left her with loneliness, a keen sense of isolation, and a strong desire to give her own children the nurturing Jenna had lost.

  She closed her eyes briefly at the pain that thought caused. Her inattention cost her as the right toe of her expensive pair of the-ambassador’s-wife heels caught on the stair and pitched her forward.

  Bracing herself for impact, she instinctively reached out her hand to break her fall, but instead of striking against concrete, she hit something hard. She looked up into Sergeant Austin Beck’s handsome, concerned face.

  “Mrs. Webb,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

  Without meaning to, she burst into tears. Austin helped her to her feet as she worked at getting herself under control, his muscles thick and firm beneath her palms. He set his arm around her, and she bit her lip. It should have been comforting, but when Austin got anywhere near her, all she felt was hot and bothered. That was so, so wrong.

  He supported her inside, and when the Post One guard saw them, he buzzed them through. “Mrs. Webb isn’t feeling well. I’ll escort her up.”

  The Marine behind the glass nodded, giving Austin a be careful look. It wasn't lost on some of the employees that she and Austin had a special friendship. The cautious look was a warning to be careful about getting involved with the ambassador's wife.

  Mortified, she could do nothing but allow him to help her up the wide marble stairway.

  “I can’t see him just yet,” she murmured. He changed course and led her directly to the conference room just before her husband’s suite of offices.

  She got a nervous feeling in her stomach when she thought about Austin, and the churning got worse when she thought about her husband. Robert was nothing like him. He was overprotective where Austin was protective, distant where Austin was so approachable, stern where Austin was warm. She felt an enormous amount of guilt at those thoughts, but she had to admit to herself, they were honest.

  On her frequent visits to the embassy, she'd had brief conversations with Austin when her husband had been delayed or hadn't remembered they had a lunch date. She and Austin had eaten together a few times. He'd told her all about his work, and it had been fun and interesting being with him in her otherwise mundane day. Austin manned “Post One,” the main hub and control center of embassy security. Behind the bullet- and explosion-proof glass he managed and, if need be, could secure the whole embassy, checked monitors for any breaches of the compound, and could respond immediately to any threats or incidents. Post One did ID checks of all incoming personnel, performed roaming patrols, and at night looked for any secured/classified infractions.

  She could see why Austin had been chosen for this type of duty, and why he excelled at it. He always knew how to connect to the people around him, Marine or otherwise. That personable nature of his was just the kind his command would want at an embassy: a big heart, a warm smile, and the ability to handle
anything that came at him. She found herself thinking about him all too often and wondering what kind of man he was. A flirt for sure. He just about had all the women here wrapped around his finger, giving them smiles and winks as he buzzed them through the security doors. Marine guards were known for their heartbreaking ways.

  Yet she went a little liquid thinking about how he would handle her.

  He closed the door behind him and helped her to a seat. “Let me get you something to drink,” he said, his voice soft and concerned. He went to a credenza at the end of the room and poured her a glass from the crystal pitcher.

  He grabbed a box of tissues and came back to her, sitting down across from her. He offered her the glass and the tissues. She took both, sipping the water, then setting it down on the conference room table. She dabbed at her eyes and finally looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry to be any trouble, especially now that you’re off duty.”

  “I’m never off duty, ma’am.” The concern in his eyes made her wish he would hold her, but that was a dangerous and very inappropriate thought. “Are you feeling better?”

  She wished she could say that her wishes were silly, but she knew that if given even half a chance, she might find herself in bed with him. She'd taken vows, and she wasn't free to indulge herself with another man, no matter how attractive he was. She was vulnerable and hurting from Robert's refusal to consider children. Her weakness could lead her so far astray without much effort on Austin's part.

  She was cold even in this heat and felt that she wouldn’t be warm again.

  Then he reached out and clasped her hand and heat flooded through her. These imprudent feelings and thoughts were just simply out of her control. She was unhappy in her marriage; she’d be devastated to know that she was nothing but a trophy wife to Robert. She wasn’t expected to give him children, she wasn’t expected to do any type of work, she wasn’t expected to keep the home. All he expected of her was acquiescence and to be impeccably groomed on his arm when he needed her. Otherwise, it was out of sight, out of mind.

  Tears welled again, and her throat got tight; a small sob escaped her.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, obviously anguished by her tears and sorrow.

  She squeezed his hand and rose, pushing back the pain and the barren feeling in the pit of her stomach. “No, but you’re so kind. Thank you for escorting me inside.”

  This should be oh-so-embarrassing and equally awkward, but there was never any awkwardness with Austin, and his open, gorgeous gray eyes held no judgment or censure, nothing but warmth.

  He stepped closer and the air backed up in her lungs. “You would tell me, Mrs. Webb, if I could ever be of service?” His voice was mostly neutral, but there was an undercurrent of heat in his words. His eyes were like hard flint.

  The air in the room felt agitated, as if the molecules were knocking against each other because of the friction. Her attention narrowed down to Austin. The scent of him, the shape of his lips, the unique color of his hair, the intensity in his eyes.

  “Of course.”

  She went to go, but he slipped his hand around her upper arm, warm and electrifying, halting her. Jenna turned back. “Is he hurting you?” His voice dropped down into the lethal zone, deep and menacing. Jenna realized that Austin might be personable, but he was a Marine through and through.

  Her voice caught at his touch against her bare skin, her body responding, challenging her will. Her response just short of a whisper, “Yes, but not like you think. I’ve got to go. He’s expecting me.”

  He let go of her slowly, as if he too was fighting his own will, his hand sliding along her arm, causing waves of tingles. She dabbed at her eyes one more time, tossed the tissue in the trash and looked at Austin before she opened the door. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  She pushed the door open and let it close softly behind her. Taking a deep breath, knowing that she was breaking her marriage vows by responding to him like this, she couldn’t seem to help it. She pushed the guilt and sorrow to a place out of sight to manage a pleasant dinner with a husband who wasn’t one in any sense of the word.

  Sergeant Austin Beck stepped into the hall where the Marine Corps Birthday Ball was going to be held. It was considered one of the most prestigious diplomatic functions the embassy would host, with dignitaries attending from Khida and foreign embassies. Jenna—Mrs. Webb—had outdone herself with the preparations. He had to stop using her first name in his head. He hadn’t been invited to, nor was it appropriate to be fraternizing with an ambassador’s wife. He had a longtime girlfriend, but when he looked at Jenna, she captivated him.

  The problem was getting her tear-streaked face off his mind. She said he was hurting her, and it had bothered him ever since. He was dedicated to his service to the embassy, and Ambassador Webb was his commanding officer, so to speak, but the man treated Jenna like she was some kind of freaking possession. If he was physically abusing her, there wouldn’t be anything to stop Austin from breaking both his arms so he couldn’t lay a hand on her.

  He took a breath to release the tension across his shoulders, which were encased in a deep blue dress jacket. As the youngest Marine here, he would be involved in the kickoff cake-eating ceremony. It was an old Marine Corps Birthday Ball tradition. The oldest Marine cut the cake, ate a bite and passed it on to the youngest, symbolic of the birth of the Marine Corps.

  Without even meaning to, he sought her out. She was talking to another Marine, and she looked gorgeous. Her deep maroon, open-backed gown clung to her trim body, her shoulders peeking out from the cutouts, the collar high, accentuating her slender neck. The vibrant color made her long, dark, wavy hair, now tamed and in an intricate up-do, stand out, along with her clear, stunning, cobalt blue eyes. He caught his breath at the creamy expanse of her back. He searched her face for any signs of unrest, but she was either putting on a good show or she had gotten over whatever had upset her.

  He suspected it was the former.

  He started toward her, then realized that it was stupid and instead made his way to a large cake with vanilla frosting. The ball got under way then, the music started up and the buffet line opened up. He managed to keep his distance from her, even though she glanced in his direction more than once. He kept telling himself that he was just concerned about her situation, that he wasn’t fascinated by her eyes or thinking way too long about her mouth.

  Feeling jacked up and restless, as if he could run ten miles, he saw that she was free for a dance. She would be expected to dance with each of them, so this was obligatory.

  “Mrs. Webb, may I have this dance?”

  She turned to him and stared at him for a moment, as if he was a land mine about ready to blow, then she dropped her thick lashes over those twist-a-man-up-inside eyes and nodded. The waltz was pretty, and it felt so right when she slipped her palm against his.

  “Good evening, Sergeant. Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “I am, ma’am. Very much. You pulled out all the stops and did a fine job.”

  She flushed at his praise. She remembered her tug of war with Robert's assistant. She oversaw all the planning duties, even though the woman had tried to take over for her at Robert's orders. That had been another battle with him, but this one she had won by sheer stubbornness. “Well, this is all for you. Tonight, around the world, you are all in harm’s way, on board ships at sea, at our diplomatic missions, Marines are on duty.” Her voice got low and fierce. “The amazing men and women of our armed forces serving and protecting right alongside them. You all risk your lives to protect us and our freedoms, many times under circumstances unimaginably difficult and dangerous. So, God bless you all.”

  “Thank you,” he said, dancing her closer to the doors that led outside to the balmy night, until finally they were on the patio under the moonlight and the sounds of the party receded.

  They parted and she moved away from him, breathing deeply of the air. “It always smells so good here,” she said.


  He came up behind her; the deep, dark, secluded area made it seem as if they were the only people in the world.

  “It does smell good,” he murmured, his fingers itching to reach out and capture one of those cascading curls, to feel the heat of her hair, the smooth skin of her back. But he breathed deep of her instead, a floral aroma mixed with her unique woman-scent that made him weak—and seriously messed with his badass quotient.

  She turned toward him. “Have you enjoyed your billet here, Sergeant?”

  “Immensely,” he said, caressing her delicate features with his eyes in the moonlight, knowing he was crossing over that invisible boundary against his will—or was he doing it deliberately?

  “The people have been very accommodating and so welcoming—warm and accepting. I find that it’s been my most favorite post as well.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, stepping closer to her as her body seemed to soften and sway toward him. “The people are fantastic.”

  She reached up and drew her finger across his ribbons just below the gold eagle pin. “So many. You must have been in the service for a while.”

  “Just four years, since I was eighteen,” he said, capturing her hand and drawing her closer. She didn’t resist, and his chest felt full, his groin throbbing. Her lips parted, her mouth looking much too tempting to resist.

  With a small gasp that only made his balls tighten, she said, “You’re only twenty-two?”

  “In man years,” he responded, shifting. “But in Marine years, I’m like forty-five.” Grinning the grin that had got him into more trouble than he cared to think about, he fixed his gaze on her. He’d been having sex since he was sixteen and was quite aware of the opposite sex. Surfer boys got more than their share of female appreciation. But Austin had stayed faithful to Melanie, the girl waiting for him back home. Except there seemed to be a gray fog over that memory of her, as if he couldn’t recall her face.