To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) by Sara Jane Stone Page A

needed to share his concerns. I was just explaining that I had faith in his ability to think on his feet and keep me safe.” She turned to Mason, her expression a mask of concern Dante was pretty damn certain she didn’t feel. “Although, if his knee is bothering him, if he isn’t up for it, I suppose we could borrow one of the big guys the hotel hired.”
    Not up for it my ass.
    She was baiting him, and he knew it. But he’d spent too many weeks sitting on the sidelines feeling inadequate to take the high road. And option two, the guys who’d beefed up at the gym and applied for a bouncer job? Dante would escort her through the crowd with two broken knees before he let that happen.
    “My knee’s fine,” he lied. The repaired ligaments had been giving him hell since the intermission. He should have watched the show from the audience instead of offering to cover the second shift so that Ronan could see his girl perform the opening act from the audience.
    “If we go out there,” Dante said. “We do this my way. If I tell you to hit the ground, you lie down. If I tell you to run—”
    “I run,” Chrissie said. “You know, I usually like to be the one giving the orders, seeing as I foot the bill, but for you, Mr. SEAL, I’ll make an exception.”
    “Mr. SEAL,” her Mini-Me repeated with a giggle.
    Dante looked from one sister to the other. Leading them through the crowd promised trouble. But she was right. He didn’t back down from a challenge. And he didn’t admit defeat, especially not in front of a man who paid twice as much for jeans someone else had ripped for him.
    Dante lowered his arms, turned, and opened the door. “I’ll go first.”
    “Such chivalry,” Chrissie said, her voice light and playful. But then, she didn’t look at the crowd and see a goatfuck waiting to happen.
    “When I throw you over my shoulder and run for safety, then you can thank me for serving as your white knight.”
    He walked into the wide, carpeted hotel hallway. Metal gates designed to keep the crowd securely on the other side bordered the walkway. Hotel security guards were positioned every ten feet eyeing the packed-in crowd.
    Dante’s teeth gnashed together. Whoever had dreamed up this exit scenario worked in the front office and spent her days with her nose buried in spreadsheets. He glanced back at the smiling, waving talent. Yeah, that bottom-line-crazed person might be the star, who didn’t seem the least bit concerned with her personal safety.
    Chrissie waved to the crowd with one hand and clenched her sister’s fingers in the other. Her Mini-Me looked as if Christmas had arrived early and Santa had delivered a herd of ponies. But the kid wasn’t looking out at the adoring crowd. She was staring up at the big sister.
    “I love you!”
    The scream cut through the rumble of “Over here, Chrissie!” and “Sign this, please!” He heard the fierce, yet desperate note in the cry and felt a rush of adrenaline. He scanned the crowd and spotted the man leaping over the metal gate five feet from one guard. The hotel’s hired muscle had his back turned to the guy.
    Blond hair.
    Military cut.
    Wild, blue eyes.
    Chrissie Tate T-shirt.
    Knife.
    “Get back,” Dante shouted, making the split-second decision to stand his ground and fight. He’d rather haul ass. But his goddamn knee might struggle under Chrissie’s weight. Add her sister and he might fall on his butt while running for safety. And he couldn’t leave her little sister behind with the security goons who’d let the man with the knife jump the fence.
    Palm flat, Dante zeroed in on the man’s face. He aimed for the nose and thrust his hand to the ceiling. And thank you Jesus! The crazed fan dropped his knife and screamed with pain. Blood flowed down his face, but Dante didn’t wait to inspect the damage. He’d broken the guy’s nose. Years of training in hand-to-hand combat situations all but guaranteed that man’s face would never be the same.
    He