SEAL Next Door

by Paige Tyler

  Also by Paige Tyler

  Alaskan Werewolves

  Animal Attraction

  Dallas Fire & Rescue

  Rekindled

  Ablaze

  Modern Day Paranormals

  Vampire 101

  Paranormal Investigations Unlimited

  Edge of Darkness: Episode One "Seeing Ghosts"

  Edge of Darkness: Episode Two "Haunted By The Past"

  Edge of Darkness: Episode Three "Detour"

  Edge of Darkness: Episode Four "Back From The Dead"

  Edge of Darkness: Episode Five "Facing Fears"

  Edge of Darkness: The Complete First Season (Paranormal Investigations Unlimited)

  SEALs of Coronado

  SEAL of Her Dreams

  SEAL for Her Protection

  Strong Silent SEAL

  Texas SEAL

  Undercover SEAL

  SEAL with a Past

  SEAL to the Rescue

  SEAL on a Mission

  Bodyguard SEAL

  SEAL Next Door (Coming Soon)

  SEALs of Coronado: Books 1 - 3 (SEALs of Coronado Boxed Set)

  The "IT" Girls

  Kali & Grayson

  Sutton & Boone

  Liv & Cash

  X-OPS: The Unclassified Files

  Treason in Norfolk

  Standalone

  Protective Custody

  I Kissed a Zombie and I Liked It

  Reclaimed: Four Sexy Stories of Erotic Submission

  Librarian By Day

  Mr. Right-Now

  Pirate's Woman

  Santa's Wayward Elf

  SEALs of Coronado: Books 4 - 6 (SEALs of Coronado Boxed Set Two)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SEAL NEXT DOOR

  SEALs of Coronado

  Paige Tyler

  Copyright © 2021 by Paige Tyler

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.

  Editing by Jennifer Jakes / The Killion Group, Inc.

  Copyediting by RVP Editing

  With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband, without whose help and support I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant any girl could ask for!

  Thank you.

  Sign up for Paige Tyler’s New Releases mailing list and get a FREE copy of SEAL of HER DREAMS!

  Click here to get started!

  http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com

  PROLOGUE

  Indonesia

  “Are you sure we’re on the right island?” Petty Officer 2nd Class Sam Travers of SEAL Team 5 whispered into his mic as he used his night vision goggles to scan the darkened beach below the sand dune where he hid. “Because there’s nobody out here. And as far as meeting places go, you’ve got to admit this place is desolate as hell.”

  Understatement. He hadn’t so much as spotted a bug since he and his Teammates had gotten there.

  “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this is definitely Kepulauan Nanusa,” Holden Lockwood, the SEAL in charge of this mission, announced over the radio—from wherever he was hidden further down the beach. “And if you paid attention during the mission briefing, you would have heard the CIA analyst telling us that the players for this meeting are going to wait until the last minute to show up. Both sides seem to distrust the other and neither wants to be the first one here.”

  Sam grunted a noncommittal response. That part about him not paying attention during the briefing was his Teammate ragging on him because he was still the effing new guy—even if he had been on the team for nearly six months now. Besides, it wasn’t like he thought the boat had dropped them on the wrong island. He was more concerned that the analyst Holden mentioned might have had the location wrong to start with. It wouldn’t be that surprising, considering this little postage stamp of dirt they were currently hanging around was one of over seventeen thousand islands in this part of the ocean. Would it be so shocking if the CIA had mistakenly sent them to the wrong place?

  “Speaking of CIA analysts,” his best friend on the Team, Wes Marshal, interrupted. “Is there any chance that he told you who the hell we’re supposed to be running surveillance on out here in the middle of nowhere? Because I couldn’t help noticing it never came up during the briefing.”

  “No, they didn’t tell me,” Holden admitted. “They said it was need-to-know and we didn’t need to know. They told me our job was straight recon and surveillance. Find a position to observe the meeting, then get all the photos, videos, and audible recordings we can without being seen. “

  The other two members of their SEAL Team, Dalton Jennings and Lane Roberts, joined in then with their thoughts about being sent out on a mission with no idea who they might be dealing with.

  “If something goes wrong, we won’t even know who’s shooting at us,” Lane pointed out. “Or if we should shoot back.”

  That cheery announcement was met with more than a few grunts of annoyance over the radio.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Holden said. “Just make sure your position is as well camouflaged as you can make it. We don’t want anyone seeing us if they happen to wander our way.”

  Since they might be there a while, Sam decided to get comfortable where he was on the backside of the sand dune. Lane joined him a few minutes later.

  “I figured I might as well move closer,” Lane said, setting down his lightweight video gear, then scraping a shallow foxhole in the sand beside Sam. “That way we can cover each other if this shit goes sideways.”

  Sam didn’t bother calling out his Teammate on his utter BS. Lane moved closer because he wasn’t crazy about spending the next three or four hours in silence, listening to the waves and waiting for people who might never show up when he could be talking. Sam supposed he couldn’t blame him.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Noah’s apartment?” Lane asked two minutes later as he checked the image on the night capable camera, then shut it down. “You sign the lease yet?”

  Sam realized that Lane’s voice hadn’t sounded in his earpiece, which meant he’d turned off his mic. Sam did the same to his, knowing Holden wouldn’t appreciate the unnecessary chatter over the radio.

  The “Noah” in question was Noah Bradley, one of their Teammates. Noah had been lucky enough to stumble into one of those love-at-first-sight kind of relationships with a woman who also happened to be rich as well as beautiful. Or at least richer than a Navy SEAL, which probably wasn’t saying much. Regardless, Noah was now living in an awesome beach front house that was one of the nicest places Sam had ever seen. While he was happy his buddy was living it large with an ocean view, the thing that mattered most was that Noah had given up an apartment in a great part of San Diego with an extremely manageable rent and free wi-fi.

  “Damn right,” Sam said, scanning the surf line for the arrival of their targets. “I
was there to sign on the dotted line the second Noah turned in the keys. I even agreed to take the place as-is, no repainting or cleaning necessary. I didn’t have time to move in before we got called up for this mission, but at least the apartment is mine.”

  “Cool,” Lane said. “If you need help moving your stuff from the dorms, just ask.”

  “I don’t have much stuff, but I’ll take whatever help I can get. Moving my bed and couch up those stairs would definitely not be fun on my own.”

  Lane glanced his way in the darkness. “Speaking of being on your own, you got anyone special lined up to help you christen the new place?”

  “Nah,” Sam admitted. “Truthfully, we’ve been going on so many missions and training exercises lately, it hasn’t been worth it to even try and start something serious with anyone.”

  His friend snorted. “Who’s talking about starting anything serious? Just stop by one of the bars outside the gates of Coronado and pick up the first groupie. Or, better yet, ask Dalton where to go. I know he’s married now, but it wasn’t that long ago that he was tapping anything that moved.”

  It was Sam’s turn to snort. Having grown up with a dad who used to be a SEAL, he’d learned from his parents that there were plenty of women in San Diego who’d sleep with a guy simply because he was a SEAL. Sam personally had nothing against a woman who wanted to do that. You do you was his motto for life. But he wasn’t interested in any of that for himself. Besides, his mom would have kittens if he ever brought a groupie home to meet the parents.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll wait until I find a girl I’m really interested in before I worry about having them over.”

  Lane scanned the beach before looking over his shoulder, like he was concerned the bad guys might come at them from that direction, then turned back to Sam. “Looking for the real thing? That’s cool. I mean, it isn’t the way I’d roll if I were you, but it’s your call.”

  Desperate to get the focus off of him and his love life—or lack thereof—Sam decided to change the subject. “Speaking of women, whatever happened with you and Noah’s sister, Laurissa? You guys were supposed to go on a date, weren’t you?”

  Through his NVGs, Sam saw Lane frown and wondered for a second if he’d hit on a sore subject. Had Lane and Laurissa already broken up before they even got started?

  “Laurissa and I have been trying to get together for weeks now,” Lane admitted. “But it’s like the world is working against us. Every time we plan to meet up, something happens. Either she gets dragged off to do something with her family, or I get sent off on some stupid additional duty tasking from headquarters.”

  “What kind of additional duties?” Sam asked curiously.

  Additional duty crap was a way of life in the military, but SEALs were usually protected from the worst of them because of all the training and deployments they got sent on.

  “Crazy stuff,” Lane muttered. “Like right before coming out on this mission, Laurissa and I were going to hang out for a couple hours, but then I get a call that I’m needed to help with monthly ammo inspections. A week before that, I had to serve as an honor guard for Captain Hunt at an award ceremony in downtown San Diego. Before that, I got pulled into a late-night accountability check on the Team’s night vision goggles. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say somebody had it out for me.”

  Sam opened his mouth to ask who the hell Lane had pissed off—because that seemed to be what was going on—but Holden’s voice interrupted him.

  “I’m picking up movement in the water. Multiple boats. Everyone get ready.”

  Sam shoved some more sand around, making extra sure he’d be difficult to spot, then checked the small parabolic microphone resting on the ground in front of him. The thing might be tiny, but from previous use, he knew it’d pick up and record any conversation within two hundred yards.

  A few minutes later, five Zodiac-style inflatable boats slid up onto the sand, engines shutting down immediately as twenty or so men in unmarked black tactical gear slipped out and started setting up a perimeter. Seeing the way they moved—along with the folding stock AK-47 variant weapons they carried—made Sam sure they were military of some type, though from where, it was difficult to tell. In this part of the world, they could have been Chinese, North Korean, Cambodian, or even Vietnamese. Though if Sam had to guess, he’d lean toward China or North Korea. Those were the only two countries bold enough to send their people out this far from home.

  Sam reached out to flip on the parabolic mic when several of the men began to head straight toward the dune he and Lane were hiding behind. Sam made himself as small as he possibly could, using his free hand to sweep some sand over the backs of his legs, hoping that’d help hide him.

  As two of the men walked up the side of the sand dune, he started to reach for the M4 carbine tucked at his side, but stopped himself. A firefight against these odds wouldn’t end well and would completely blow the mission. Instead, he grabbed the mic and stand, tucking it against his chest, resting his face against the sand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the men halt halfway up the side of the dune, their backs to Sam and Lane, and he breathed a sigh of relief. But while that was a good thing, it also meant that he and Lane couldn’t use the surveillance equipment they had with them, which was the entire reason they were on this beach in the middle of nowhere in the first place.

  Just when Sam was about to take a chance and move the mic into position—regardless of the two bad guys standing less than ten feet away—there was a noise from further down the beach. The men in front of him immediately stepped off the dune and moved away, taking up their positions along with their fellow bad guys in a loose semi-circle facing the newcomers.

  This group was nearly as large as the first, and as heavily armed. But they definitely weren’t military. Based on their mismatched clothing and weapons, they looked like some kind of terrorist group.

  Two members of the ragtag group stepped forward to be met by two soldiers from the military team. The four men sized each other up as Sam moved the parabolic mic back up to the top of the dune and turned it on. Words in a foreign language came through the earpiece he had set to listen into the mic, but after a few seconds, he turned it off. There was no reason to listen since he couldn’t understand what they were saying. The CIA analysts back at home would go through the memory card and translate everything anyway.

  Beside him, Lane was busy taking pictures, focusing most of his attention on the four men in the middle of the circle. Sam didn’t blame him. Those four were obviously the ones with the power in this situation. Everyone else was paid muscle.

  Sam studied the men, trying to figure out the parts each played in this meeting by the clothing they wore and the way they carried themselves. The two men in the black tactical uniforms were as different as day and night. One was middle height and older while the other was at least six-four and a good ten years younger than the first. He stood silently behind the shorter man, too. The quintessential right-hand man. Just in the extra-large variety.

  The two men that Sam assumed to be terrorists were so similar in height and looks that they had to be brothers. Dark-haired, they had beards to match, and both adopted the same aggressive stance as they bartered with the military guy in charge.

  And bartering was definitely what was going on, Sam was sure of it. Even without being able to understand anything they said, it was obvious the men were negotiating over something. And whatever it was they were haggling over, it must have been important because the tension down there on the beach was thick enough to choke a goat. Sam half expected someone to start shooting simply so they could all start breathing again.

  But nobody shot anyone.

  Instead, the military guy handed the terrorists a folder, who gave him a small cloth bundle in exchange. Sam couldn’t make out what was in the folder, but it wasn’t hard to identify the small glittering gem the soldier took out of the bag. It was a diamond. A big one.

  The m
eeting broke up shortly after that. The two terrorists turned and walked back down the beach in the direction they’d come, one carrying the folder while the other motioned to their men to follow. The military troops stayed exactly where they were, watching them leave.

  Then the leader made a motion with his hand and everyone headed for the boats. Everyone except for the big guy. He stood where he was, at first staring down the beach in the direction the terrorists had gone before suddenly turning and looking Sam’s way. A split second later, the man started moving purposely toward the dune Sam and Lane were hiding behind.

  Sam grabbed his weapon, sure he wasn’t going to have any choice but to start shooting when the man’s boss called out from one of the boats they were already sliding back into the surf.

  The big man hesitated, scanning the top of the dunes in front of Sam and Lane. Finally, he turned and walked away, wading into the water to catch up to his boat. Once seated, he looked back in their direction, gaze trained on Sam and Lane’s position until the boat disappeared into the darkness.

  Sam let out a sigh of relief. Beside him, Lane did the same.

  “I hope the CIA tells us what that was all about,” Sam whispered to Lane as they cleaned up their gear. “Because that was the weirdest crap I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hooyah,” Lane said.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sam cursed as the heavy stack of boxes in his arms shifted, nearly toppling over. He staggered to the left as he reached the second-floor landing, barely keeping the load from falling. Maybe he should have asked Wes and Lane to hang around a little while longer to help with these last few things. They would have stayed, but Sam already felt bad enough about commandeering his friend’s Saturday morning. Especially since they’d just gotten back from the mission in Indonesia late yesterday and were all still running on fumes. So, after the guys had helped him move all the heavy stuff—bed, dressers, couch, kitchen table, and TV—he told them to take off, saying he’d get the rest. That was three trips ago. Now, he wished he hadn’t been so noble. Even if it was boxes of old clothes, books, and knickknacks that had been sitting in his parents’ basement since he joined the Navy, it was still a lot of crap. And it was damn heavy.