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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2019 by Holly Castillo
Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks
Cover art by Craig White
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, 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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Excerpt from A SEAL Always Wins
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Back Cover
Chapter 1
“Hi!”
The cheery voice and enthusiastic wave of her hand did nothing to quell his temper. No one had told him when he took over this ranch that there were going to be other people—outside of the ones he had selected—working there. She could be a spy for all he knew.
She strode toward him across the field, a bright smile planted on her face, and he felt some of the tension leave his body. He was being too sensitive. She was naive to the entire operation. There was no way he could hold her accountable. But he would certainly do his best to get rid of her as quickly as possible. They still had a lot of work to do on the main house, and, at the moment, she was proving to be a distraction.
“Hi,” she said again, a bit breathlessly, and he was instantly very distracted. Her voice was husky, with almost a raw quality to it that made it sexy as hell. “I’m Dr. Anya Gutierrez. I’m the local veterinarian.” She seemed to feel the need to tag on the last part of her statement because he had yet to accept her outstretched hand and was no doubt looking at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Oh, hello,” he replied absently, taking her small hand into his large mitt and giving it three solid pumps before letting go. “I wasn’t aware we had made a call for a veterinarian.”
“Oh, you didn’t,” she replied quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with any of your cattle. I’m just doing a routine check to make sure we’re ready for calving season.”
“Do you do that for all the ranches you serve?”
She looked at him quizzically. “Yes, most of them. Didn’t the veterinarian at your last ranch do the same?”
He tilted back his cowboy hat and gave her what he hoped was a rueful smile. “It’s been years since I was ranching,” he said. He had been a teenager the last time he’d been on a ranch. “It seems a lot has changed in the years that I haven’t been involved.”
“Oh? What took you away from ranching?”
Time for his story to begin. It all came with being part of an undercover operation. He couldn’t tell her who he really was now, but he could tell her who he used to be. “The rodeo circuit. Ranching had always been something my parents did, but the call of the road set me on a different path. But my last run-in with a mad bull reminded me how short life is, and it’s brought me back to the life of ranching.”
“Oh, no,” she said with heartfelt sincerity, and her eyes searched his face as she laid a comforting hand on his bare forearm. “You weren’t hurt badly, I hope.”
Good grief, have mercy on me. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had reached out to touch him as if she genuinely cared about his well-being. And on top of that, it was a beautiful, smart, and sexy woman touching him. “I’m fine,” he responded cryptically. “Though I don’t know if the bull will ever be normal again.”
She paused for half a moment, then broke out in laughter, and it brought a smile to his face. He liked her laugh as much as he liked her smile. He needed to get going. “So, are the cattle okay? Are all of them on track for calving season?”
“A majority of them, yes. But it looks like we may have a small handful that will be late dropping their calves. And there are a few that I’m concerned about. They have narrow hips, and the birth canal may be a bit tight for them. But I’ll swing by every day or two to check on them and make sure they’re in good shape.”
She dug into her back pocket and fished out a business card for him. “It has my cell number on there, so you can call me anytime you need help.”
He didn’t know what made him do it. But there was something about her—something that made him unwilling to dismiss her as quickly as he had wanted to earlier. In an about-face that surprised the hell out of him, he said, “I’m looking to grow my cattle operations rather significantly. I’ll be going to some auctions over the next few weeks and could use some guidance…”
“Considering you’ve yet to tell me your name, I’m not sure how I should respond,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. He was momentarily mute. Her voice was mesmerizing.
“Sorry about that. My name is Amador Salas. Though those closest to me call me Stryker.”
“Stryker? I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind that. Please, call me Anya. And I’d be thrilled to go with you to the auctions over the next few weeks. Though we’ll need to be selective about which auctions you go to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the cattle you have here are all pure-bred Santa Gertrudis. You can’t go to just any auction to maintain the bloodline.”
Stryker shook his head at himself. “I remember, now that you say it. So you’ll help me, then?” Why was he asking this of her? It was going to be sheer torture traveling to different auctions with her. If only she weren’t so alluring. But he had no one else to turn to with the wealth of knowledge that she could bring. As long as she was able to tone down her overly enthusiastic routine, he’d be fine. Maybe.
“Of course. Count me in. I’ll do some resear
ch tonight on the best auctions for us to go to.”
He nodded. “Thanks, that’ll be a big help. We’re still doing some remodeling at the house that I need to get back to…”
“Oh, please don’t let me interfere. I’m glad to see someone is giving this place a face-lift. It has needed help for years. Your ranch will become the envy of all the other ranchers around Hebbronville.”
Her words made him pause as he was turning to leave. He pivoted back to her and pinned her with what he hoped was his most intimidating glare. “About that—I’m a private man. As are the men joining me over the next couple of months. We’d really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about the ranch house, or the improvements we’re making to the land…none of it.”
She tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and held up her right hand as if she were taking an oath. “On my honor, you won’t have to worry about me. I won’t say a word about our new neighbors at the Bent Horseshoe Ranch. You’ll find I don’t believe in town gossip.”
He gave her a half-hearted smile, then finally turned and left for the ranch house. She was going to be an interesting part of the new chapter of his life. An unexpected part that he was looking forward to. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of his team began to arrive. It was going to go by fast.
* * *
Lieutenant Amador “Stryker” Salas had still been high on his latest successful mission infiltrating the city of Juarez, Mexico, releasing a hostage, and disabling a notorious gang. Twenty-four hours after that, they’d been on their way home.
Much to his surprise, his former commanding officer, Admiral Haslett, had tapped him on the shoulder when he arrived back stateside and taken him to his office. Several months earlier, Haslett had transferred to the naval offices in Corpus Christi from Coronado. Stryker had thought Haslett no longer worked with the SEAL operations, but Haslett quickly informed him that his move to Corpus had been strategic. He had moved with plans already in place to continue as Stryker’s CO on a dedicated assignment. Only Haslett and a few other senior officers knew the true reason for his move.
“I made the transfer here specifically knowing we would utilize you for a covert operation,” Haslett had said, watching Stryker in that intense way he had. Stryker had never been the type to get nervous about an assignment. On the contrary, he looked forward to whatever Haslett had for him.
“We have reason to believe there’s a terrorist cell operating out of Mexico and Central and South America that’s going to launch an attack on U.S. soil sometime in the not-so-distant future. We’ve purchased a ranch just an hour away from the border that will allow you to keep your ear to the ground for information and also give you solid cover to work your way into the community and identify those who are working on this side of the border. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and I’ll be doing my part to help your team gather intel.”
Stryker had learned years ago that it was best not to ask questions until Admiral Haslett was finished, which he obviously wasn’t. “This is black ops unlike anything you’ve experienced. If you or any of your team get caught in the process, we’ll disavow you. I’m not saying that lightly. There are things already moving, and I need you in there now. What we’ve been able to pick up so far is random information, and the NSA has come to us with coded conversations that even they are having a hard time cracking. What little we have is enough to necessitate the formation of this team. It isn’t going to be like most of your missions. However, you will have tremendous resources at your fingertips, as well as the ability to build your own team. Choose wisely, as these will be the men you spend the next few years with.”
His CO had handed over a flash drive, and Stryker turned it over in his hand, waiting to hear the rest. “Everything you need to know is on there. The main house is being remodeled to suit the needs of your team. You’ll arrive there within the week to oversee the changes. You’ll start with a team of six, but there’s a good chance more will join you as the investigation and operations expand. Do you have any questions?”
“I’ll read up first, then let you know, sir.”
“I’m not going to say that I’m pleased to lose you. You’re one of the best, and I have no doubt you’ll pick some of my other top guys to bring with you. But I’m glad you were handed this assignment. It suits you perfectly.”
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Haslett smiled. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
* * *
“This is our new headquarters?” Derek “Brusco” Delgado said in surprise as they stepped into the large foyer of the new compound.
“There are still a few things being upgraded, but the short answer is yes.”
“Nothing says ‘undercover’ like a posh, large house sprawling across a massive ranch. I’m sure it hasn’t raised any questions at all.” Isaiah “Snap” Flores spoke with heavy sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Always the optimist, aren’t you, Snap?” Stryker grinned. “Trust me, the appropriate contractors were used, and there’s a reason there are large plantings around the house. Not even satellite imaging can pick up the size of this place.”
Brusco ran a hand through his dark brown hair and drifted farther into the building that was now going to be their home, followed by Snap and Stryker. “How many of us are there supposed to be again?”
“Six for now,” Stryker answered, meandering into the giant kitchen and peering into the refrigerator. He raised an eyebrow when he saw it was fully stocked with some of his team’s favorite foods—namely, beer. He grabbed one for himself and two more for Snap and Brusco.
“What do you mean ‘for now’?” Snap asked, his voice sounding distant in the large house.
Stryker followed the sound of the man’s voice and found him and Brusco kicked back on a large leather couch, their feet propped on the coffee table in front of them. There was a massive sixty-five-inch TV hanging on the wall in front of them, and they were both looking around with appreciation. “Whoever set this place up did a sweet job, ése.” Brusco rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he talked and barely lifted his eyes to catch the beer that was tossed his way.
“We’re into it with six SEALs right now. But I’ve been warned more may come our way, depending on our needs.”
Snap lifted his chin and a mischievous glint entered his eyes. “We’ll show them what the six of us can do together, and they’ll leave us alone.” Then he winced at his own words. “That came out wrong.”
“Pervert.” Brusco laughed, then stood to continue exploring the house. Snap shrugged and followed behind him.
Stryker could hear them moving through the first floor, and he was tempted to catch up with them. But he knew the rest of the team would be arriving soon, and he didn’t want to wander too far from the door. He made his way back into the large foyer and studied the incredible rock and wood décor of the home, the high, vaulted ceilings, and the strong angular lines of the structure. The contractors who remodeled this compound had “Man Cave” stamped across the top of the blueprints—Stryker had made certain of it.
“Hey, Stryker!” Brusco yelled from down a hallway. “Who gets this killer room?”
Stryker smiled. “I do,” he called back.
“Bullshit.”
“Didn’t you see the sign? It said the guy with the biggest dick gets that room. So, you know.” Stryker smiled as he brought his beer to his lips.
“Then it must be mine.”
The voice came from the front door and Stryker grinned. “Santo, man, is it good to see you.” Hunter “Santo” Gonzalez was an expert sniper, so his stealth didn’t surprise Stryker. But Stryker had seen Santo’s truck pulling up from a distance and had known the man would be on their doorstep in just a few minutes. Stryker had been on many missions with Santo, too many. Because every time they were paired together, someone was destine
d to die. At least, with Santo behind the trigger, it was usually a quick death.
“So, what is it that has my name on it?”
Stryker shook his head and led the tall man into the home. Santo let out a low whistle. “This is an upgrade from our usual undercover digs.”
Santo was still dressed in military fatigues, having just arrived back stateside that very morning. But his expression, always passive and calm, didn’t show any signs of exhaustion. Originally from Venezuela, his family was wealthy and directly descended from the Spanish who had arrived in South America in the 1500s. His lighter complexion and slight accent gave him the best and worst of two worlds. Sometimes he could blend with many different nationalities and ethnicities. Other times, he didn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
“It’s certainly nice,” Stryker replied, grabbing a beer for his friend and comrade. He wasn’t going to tell anyone that he had seen to it that the place would be built in a way he knew his men would appreciate. He’d let that remain a mystery. “I haven’t had a chance to go through the entire compound with the guys yet. We still have a couple of men on their way.”
Santo nodded as he looked around, and Stryker knew he was sizing up the facility for areas of weakness in case they ever needed to defend themselves. It was the same way Stryker had been looking at the place from the moment construction had started.
“Who’s here already?” Santo asked, taking a tentative sip of beer, then a longer pull at it.
“Brusco and Snap are cruising around here somewhere. Two more are on their way.”
Santo lifted an eyebrow, but Stryker just smiled back at him. “I’ll let you be surprised with the rest of the team.”
Santo turned away and began exploring the house on his own. From the excited chatter down a hallway, Stryker could tell Santo had caught up with Brusco and Snap. Stryker went to stand at the door, watching as dust plumed, telling him another truck was coming down the long stretch of dirt road that led up to the ranch.
When he saw Joseph “Buzz” Gomez exit the passenger side, unfolding his long, muscular body, and Enrique “Phantom” Ramirez get out of the driver’s side, his big boots striking the ground, he smiled. Phantom was easily his best friend, and the man he had worked the hardest to recruit. He was as his name indicated—a phantom in the shadows, a ghost in the light. He had saved Stryker’s life more times than he cared to admit. With Phantom there, they would be able to tackle whatever came their way.
A SEAL Never Quits Page 1