by Dale Mayer
He shifted position. He was the only one on this military flight, along with a ton of cargo. He wished he could have ridden in the cockpit, but, with room only for a pilot and a copilot, Colton definitely wasn’t small enough to squeeze between them up there. The trip was long but uneventful.
Just as they prepared for a landing, he heard a large explosion on the left side of the plane. He bolted from his seat and stuck his head in the cockpit to take a look in that direction. The left engine was on fire. He swore.
The copilot glanced at him and said, “Take your seat.”
He nodded but grabbed three parachutes instead, in case they had to abandon the plane. He made his way forward again to see the pilots calm and controlled but issuing instructions to the base as they approached. “I’ve got two parachutes here, in case you guys need them.”
“Hopefully not,” she said.
Katie. Katie Winslow. Somebody he’d known for a few years and had flown with a couple times and once even had shared an overnight stay. That had been a hot and heavy night; then they both showered the next morning and carried on with their individual lives. But to see her here and now just put another human face on this. He didn’t recognize the pilot.
Katie looked at him again and said, “Take your seat, Colton.”
At that, he nodded, grabbed his parachute and buckled it on, then took a seat. He couldn’t buckle in with the chute on, but he wasn’t letting go of it. At the moment, the parachute seemed more critical than the seat belt.
The plane careened to the side and slipped downward at a rate that was more than a little nauseating. He caught his breath, following the safety procedures that he knew they would go through now. He had been in similar situations before. Not exactly this but … He leaned forward to look out the cockpit window, hoping to see land in the distance. Regardless, if the pilots had put out a Mayday call, they could jump and get free and clear of the plane, if headed for a crash.
Katie joined him, holding onto a nearby strap, and said, in a curt but controlled tone, “We have to bail.”
“Understood.” When he rose, he immediately fell as the plane shifted again to the side. “What about the pilot?” he yelled over the loud din, scrambling to his feet once more.
“He’s coming,” she said, righting herself as well. She quickly grabbed her parachute, and he helped her strap it on.
The two of them made their way to the cockpit, where the pilot still tried to guide the plane. She called out to him, “George, come on. We’re done.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure we got out to the ocean, where this doesn’t come down on anybody.” Finally he bolted toward them and, with their help, quickly got buckled up in his parachute. He looked out and said, “It won’t be that easy to get out of here. It’s going to be hard to get clear of the plane.”
“I know,” Colton said, as he struggled against the downward angle of the plane to reach the emergency door, kicked it open and basically tossed Katie out.
The pilot raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Damn, this is the first time for me.”
He didn’t get a chance to say more because Colton already had pushed him outside in the frigid air. He jumped out right behind them. All Colton could do was watch the plane dive, flames shooting out behind it, as it beelined for the deep dark ocean below.
He turned to see the two parachutes now floating above him. They’d gone from an ugly and dangerous situation to an uglier and deadlier one.
Nothing was easy about landing in the Arctic Ocean—hypothermia would set in within twenty minutes. Then it wouldn’t matter who came to rescue them – it would already be too late.
This concludes Book 22 of SEALs of Honor: Taylor.
Read about Colton: SEALs of Honor, Book 23
SEALs of Honor: Colton (Book #23)
His next flight becomes a fight for his life … and the life of the two pilots.
Colton is helping out on a training session in Greenland, currently in midair. The copilot is a woman he knew intimately and had planned to reconnect with, only life never seemed to give him that window. His flight turns into a nightmare as the engine blows, and he, along with the two pilots, are forced to abandon the bird and jump into the Arctic Ocean.
Kate Winnows might not have been overjoyed to see Colton as her only passenger, but she’s darn happy he’s here when all hell breaks loose. She’d never forgotten him. Had hoped to reconnect but, like him, her life was busy, finding each of them all over the planet. Now she needs him to help her save her reputation, her job and possibly her life … again. And, if she can make it happen, she wants a second chance to show him what he means to her.
Especially when they find out the crash was no accident but just the tip of the iceberg in a case involving blackmail, drugs and … murder.
Find Book 23 here!
To find out more visit Dale Mayer’s website.
The Mavericks
What happens when the very men—trained to make the hard decisions—come up against the rules and regulations that hold them back from doing what needs to be done? They either stay and work within the constraints given to them or they walk away. Only now, for a select few, they have another option:
The Mavericks. A covert black ops team that steps up and break all the rules … but gets the job done.
Welcome to a new military romance series by USA Today best-selling author Dale Mayer. A series where you meet new friends and just might get to meet old ones too in this raw and compelling look at the men who keep us safe every day from the darkness where they operate—and live—in the shadows … until someone special helps them step into the light.
Book 1 is available now!
Excerpt from Kerrick: The Mavericks, Book 1
Kerrick Cassidy looked at the text message and frowned.
Meet at 1830.
He knew who the sender was, but he hadn’t heard from this guy in a long time. He had always been a bit on the raw side, a law unto himself, a maverick among humans. Kerrick had heard he’d gone into the military but had lost track of him. Was it the same friend? Kerrick’s phone ID’d the man’s name and number. Or rather, a version of his nickname.
Kerrick sent a quick message back. Where and why?
Waterside Pub. That pub—or dive—was just inside the San Diego city limits but still close to where Kerrick now stood in his apartment in Coronado. Waterside was more of a locals’ hangout, and one Kerrick knew well. As he thought about it, he realized it’s where he’d met this friend a long time ago. But there was no explanation as to the why part of the message. At that, he frowned, checking his watch. It was 5:35 p.m. now. He had no plans. He had enough time to make the meeting, even with Friday night traffic.
So, was that a coincidence, or was something else going on here? He sent his old friend an affirmative reply while standing and staring out the window of his small apartment. He was living on the Coronado base in standard base housing, but that was short-term. As in, very short-term. Like, … his entire military career was soon over. He was done with the navy. At least in the capacity he’d served.
He was at a crossroads in his life, one that he looked forward to but, at the same time, he’d given a lot of his best years to the navy. He’d been part of their elite group, but sometimes the people around you changed, and the people above you changed, and Kerrick had been chafing at the rules and the regulations for a long time. He was one of the more senior guys and knew that he should be moving on. Others had gone on to have life partners and families, rounding out their lives. Kerrick didn’t have either of those things to keep him grounded.
He used to, but that was a long time ago. He and his wife had been childhood sweethearts. He’d only been in the navy a couple years and hadn’t even made it to his elite group yet when she and their six-month-old daughter had been killed in a car accident. Some men hit the bottle; others managed to recover from life-changing events like that. In his case, Kerrick locked all the hu
rt inside and had faced the world, angrier, harder, and more determined to bury himself and all his pain in his work.
Kerrick stared at his phone, frowning, wondering if he should show up for this meet. He didn’t have any reason not to. The thing was, the longer he’d been in the service, the more Kerrick understood other men’s struggles with the regimented lifestyle. While Kerrick had taken solace in the rules and regulations, others had chafed at the restrictions. Kerrick had more of a get-along-with and do-the-job type of attitude. He’d been all about the team.
As the teams had expanded, and as the number of members in this elite group had totaled several thousand, the atmosphere had changed. It was great if you could stay in the group that you loved and with the men who you knew and trusted. But, when they left or were transferred, it became an ever-changing sea of faces. The status was changing too, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to have unknown guys, untested guys, guys ten years younger than him watching his back.
And he knew that they looked at him and worried that maybe Kerrick was past his prime. Just the thought of that angered him. No way he was washed-up. Not at thirty-four. But something was definitely different in his outlook now. And it went beyond the everlasting agony of losing his wife and child. It was another kind of ache in his soul. He wanted to do more; he wanted to go into foreign countries and take out the insurgents like they needed to be taken out.
But he was forever being held back by the politically correct actions as dictated by the brass above. And sometimes it really chafed to have men a long ways away make decisions about matters they couldn’t possibly comprehend, not without boots on the ground. Hell, even friendly fire was an issue on the bases. If the brass couldn’t handle the fights in their own bases, how were they deemed worthy to supervise any op in a foreign country?
He shook his head, grabbed his keys, and walked out. He locked the door behind him, feeling a sense of finality in the movement. Although he slept here, he didn’t really live here. He kept his civilian clothes to a minimum. He was always ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and he cared about nothing in that place. The memories of his wife and daughter were the only things that still mattered, and he kept those inside. Sure, he’d had relationships since losing them, but those quick hookups had been more for him to reconnect to the world and maybe to let off some steam and just to have a bit of fun every once in a while. His heart, however, was well-guarded.
Nobody walked away from an experience like his without some scars to show for it. And he had yet to find a way to manage those scars. And the physical scars on his body? Well, he didn’t give a crap about those. They were beyond fixing and were so much a part of him that even he’d forgotten how he’d gotten a lot of them. And none of them bothered him, yet he knew it would bother other women. Not the females he tended to spend time with now. They couldn’t care less. They just wanted a good hard ride, and he was up for that any day.
But the softer side of a real relationship—with love, true love, like that special relationship he’d had with Aurora—that part he kept hidden. He was afraid his ability to give true love had died permanently with her but held out hope that one day he’d find himself responding emotionally to another woman.
When he walked into the pub five minutes early, he didn’t recognize anybody in the smoke-filled room. He ordered a draft off the bar and took it outside. He always preferred to be outside anyway. He found his friend sitting there, in the far corner on the patio, waiting for him and watching him approach. Kerrick studied him as he sat down. “The years haven’t been kind,” Kerrick said bluntly.
His friend smiled, shook his head, and said, “No, they haven’t been. Doesn’t look like they’ve been too kind to you either.”
Kerrick shrugged, still bristling at the idea that he might be past his prime, and said, “I’m doing fine.”
His friend nodded, and Kerrick stared at him.
“What name are you going by these days?” Kerrick asked.
His friend just smiled and said, “Call me Beta.”
Kerrick’s eyebrows rose. “As in, second in command, with a leader called Alpha above you?”
Beta chuckled and said, “There is a ladder. But I didn’t tell you that.”
“Sounds like you’re still a bit of a maverick.” Kerrick crossed his arms, not willing to give an inch to the man trying to read him intently. “Why am I here?”
“Maverick?” Beta rolled the word around on the tip of his tongue and smiled. “I like that. We can use that. Now as to why you are here – answer that question yourself. Why are you here?”
Kerrick frowned. Because, of course, that was exactly what he needed to know too. “Curiosity,” he said. “Trying to figure out the voice from the past.”
“Heard you were having some trouble.”
“Not really,” Kerrick said, reaching for his beer. He lifted it and sipped but never took his gaze off the man across him. “Just an interesting stage of life. Nothing I can’t handle though.”
“Do you care to handle it any longer?” Beta asked, leaning forward to study his buddy’s eyes.
“Not sure what that means,” Kerrick said in a calm tone. “Have you got a job for me? Because I’m no mercenary.”
A grin flashed, Beta’s white teeth lighting up the evening settling around them. It should have been a hot and sunny day in California, but, with overcast clouds, it wasn’t. A storm threatened on the horizon, adding an electric crackle to the air around them. Just the kind of weather that matched Kerrick’s mood.
“It would be government-sanctioned,” Beta said. “Black ops. Small teams on the ground. Mostly two working alone.”
Kerrick felt the shock waves rock through him. “You do know what I have been doing for the last decade, right?”
Beta nodded. “One of the topmost decorated Navy SEAL officers. I’m really proud of you.”
“Why?” Kerrick asked. “I never did quite understand the thing about getting medals for doing your damn job.”
Beta cracked a smile again. “Still the same old Kerrick. You have a set of honorable rules to live by that few men can match,” he said, leaning back casually as he picked up his own beer and drank.
Kerrick nodded. “Definitely have my own set of standards and my own honor system, and I’m loyal. Which is why I can’t ever do anything of a mercenary nature.”
“It’s got nothing to do with that,” Beta said calmly. “But I need to know if your heart’s still with the Navy SEALs or if you’re ready to take a step into something … different.”
“How different?”
Beta chuckled. “Maybe not very different at all. We’re talking two-man undercover missions, possibly larger teams as we recruit a few more men.”
“Who’s leading?”
“I am, from a distance,” Beta said. “But essentially you’re on your own.”
In spite of himself, Kerrick could feel the interest surging through him. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the tall beer glass. “How alone? For how long?”
“Only what you feel you need. You’re the boss of your mission.”
Kerrick’s eyebrows shot up. “Money?”
“Are you asking about money for your bank account or money available to do what’s needed to be done?”
“Both.”
“Got you covered. And more.”
At that sock to his gut, Kerrick stared at his friend. “How black ops?”
“It doesn’t get any darker than this.”
“Is this a brand-new US government department? Do we have a code name?”
“Definitely.” He grinned. “I just named it The Mavericks.”
Kerrick snorted at that. “So, no systems in place. You don’t know how it’ll work yet?”
“You’d be one of the first to implement it.”
“Even if I go in alone,” he said, “I still need some people to call on. I need intel. I need maybe a specialist here and there.”
Beta nodded. “And you will have bac
kup, of course.”
Kerrick frowned at him. “Depends on who the backups are reporting to.”
A startled laugh erupted from Beta’s lips. “Yeah, the same old Kerrick. Always wanting to know who’ll report to whom and who’s over your head.”
“I want to make sure that nobody is reporting behind my back,” Kerrick said. “I want my people loyal to me, to the program, and to whoever is cutting our paychecks. But most of all, loyal to me while on a mission.”
“Understood.”
But Beta didn’t say anything else, so Kerrick wasn’t exactly sure just how much leeway he would have. He probed gently. “Budget?”
“Yes.”
“How big?”
“More than you can spend in this lifetime,” Beta said. And this time, there was no smile. He had settled in, just waiting to see what questions Kerrick would ask.
“I can have anything I need? Do you have the resources?”
“Interesting question.”
“Up until now I just walked into the armory and signed out what I needed.”
Beta’s smile still did not show up. He continued to stare at Kerrick steadily.
“Meaning, I can use my own suppliers?” Kerrick asked to clarify Beta’s silence.
Beta gave a shrug. “Nobody—and I mean nobody—in the military gets to know about this.”
“So, not the usual sources,” Kerrick said as he stared out into the landscape. “What about using civilians?”
“No details ever to be given.”
“Some of the civilians I know,” he said, “don’t need to ask questions to understand what’s going on.”