Identity Crisis

by Rochelle Paige

  Identity Crisis

  Rochelle Paige

  Copyright

  © 2015 Rochelle Paige Popovic

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Monica Black

  Cover designed by Sara Eirew

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  A Note From The Author

  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

  Epilogue

  What’s Next In The Crisis Series?

  Other Books by This Author

  Coming Soon From CP Smith

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Elle

  A true friend supports you because

  they want to see you succeed.

  Thank you for being a true friend. Identity Crisis would not be what it is without all your help.

  A Note From The Author

  I’ve always been fascinated by stories about the men and women who bravely serve our country, especially those in special operations units. Their uncommon desire to succeed and unflinching commitment to accomplish their mission leave me awe-struck. Writing a book featuring a character who is a Navy SEAL has been a privilege. As such, I feel it necessary to point out that some liberties have been taken with SEAL training and mission operation to fit the needs of this story.

  Chapter 1

  Blaine

  Sweeping my gaze across the glitzy casino, I absently ran my finger under the collar of my shirt. Damn bow tie felt like it was strangling me. I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell I’d managed to find myself here, living in the lap of luxury with such a cushy job. Even though this had been my life for the past year, it was so far removed from my childhood, I felt like I would never belong. When my phone buzzed, I yanked it out of my pocket — relieved by the distraction and hoping like hell it would help me pull my head out of my ass.

  When I glanced down at the notification, I was surprised to see a text from Serena Taylor. Talk about a blast from the past. The last time I saw her was before my first deployment overseas. We’d met for dinner at my hotel when I went to Atlanta to see her and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for more than just dinner. Training and the pre-deployment workup that followed were grueling and the idea of hooking back up with the girl next door, one who’d fueled most of my high school fantasies, was more appealing than hitting a bar and picking up some random chick wanting to bang a SEAL. It didn’t take long for me to feel like I’d been there and done that.

  I was surprised when things didn’t work out as planned. We had a nice dinner and Serena caught me up on all the news from back home, but the spark wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t the same girl I’d known growing up, and it wasn’t just the move to a big city far from home. Gone was the girl who had been soft and vulnerable, in her place was a sleek and sophisticated stranger. I’d been looking for a piece of home to hold onto while I was overseas and it didn’t take long to realize Serena wasn’t it.

  I wasn’t an idiot, though. I still would have banged her, except, it turned out, she had a boyfriend. When she talked about the new man in her life, the reason for the change became immediately clear. She’d hooked up with some rich guy who wanted her as his arm candy. I was disappointed to realize the girl I’d cared for had turned into a woman who wanted nice things more than she wanted a good man in her life.

  But it didn’t stop me from worrying about her. She was still the girl I grew up with, the first one I’d ever kissed. Hell, she let me pop her cherry when we were sophomores.

  Before she left, I made sure she had my contact information and I told her she better use it if she ever needed anything. Time had passed and I hadn’t heard from her again—until now.

  Serena: I’m in trouble. Need help.

  Me: What kind of trouble?

  Serena: The kind where I’m on the run and looking for a place to hide out.

  Me: Still in Atlanta?

  Serena: Yes

  The only time I’d ever been there was my quick trip to see her, so I didn’t have any contacts available to help with something like this. But I knew someone who could find some quickly.

  Me: Hold on.

  With the nine-hour time difference, odds were high Brody was sound asleep. He’d become a night owl ever since we made it home. I pulled up his name in my contacts and listened as the call rolled to voicemail, redialing two more times before he finally picked up.

  “You better be calling me to bail your asses out of jail,” he rasped in a low tone.

  “Like your brother wouldn’t be able to get his hands on as much cash as we needed at the drop of a hat,” I reminded him.

  His snort of laughter made it clear he was just yanking my chain. “Then why the fuck are you calling me this early in the morning?”

  “Do you know anyone in Atlanta who can help someone lay low for a couple days?”

  “Someone?”

  “Serena,” I sighed, knowing an interrogation would soon follow. Not only did Brody know me better than any other person alive, including my past with Serena, he was the reason my life had changed so much in the last year.

  As someone who saw their mom poorly treated by wealthy people, I used to despise them. My father died when I was five, leaving her to raise me on her own. They’d been high school sweethearts and married young. With no education or job experience, she ended up cleaning houses to make a living.

  She was damn good at her job, but that didn’t mean the families who hired her ever saw her as a real person. In their eyes, she was a convenience—a disposable one, at that. If something was broken, blame the maid. Can’t find a piece of jewelry? Blame the maid. It didn’t matter whether she had done anything wrong, or that it was usually their spoiled kid at fault. The bottom line was: she was replaceable and her wealthy employers never had a problem letting her go. Watching her accept their mistreatment, year after year, left me with a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder.

  Needless to say, I wanted better for my mom, and myself. My grades in high school were good, but not great since I’d juggled school, sports, and a part-time job to help lessen the load. With a full ride scholarship out of the question, college wasn’t an option for me. I finally found my way out when I joined the Navy. It broke my mom’s heart when I enlisted. She was scared to death of losing me too, but she accepted it like she did everything else in her life: with grace. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I didn’t need much to maintain my bachelor lif
estyle and would be able to send money to her every month.

  If I was going to dedicate my life to the military, I was determined to be the best of the best. Before I joined, I told the Navy recruiter I wanted to take the SEAL Challenge. It guaranteed me the opportunity to become a candidate and I wasn’t about to waste my chance when my time came.

  Oddly enough, it was during BUD/S when I moved past my prejudice against the wealthy. I didn’t have a choice when Brody Slater blew all my preconceived notions out of the water.

  Everyone knew his story since the exploits landing him in the military were in the newspapers. He was the spoiled rich kid whose older brother used their wealth to bail him out of yet another mess when he was a junior in college. Except, that time, he’d royally screwed up by hacking into a government computer system and the prosecutor wanted to make an example out of him. The best his brother’s lawyers could do was get them to agree to military enlistment instead of prison. How he managed to qualify for SEAL training was a mystery to me since one of the requirements was having a clean record. Sometimes they granted a waiver, which I assumed meant his brother pulled strings for him—again. Though, it didn’t really matter. No one could help him through the training and I didn’t think he had the mental toughness to make it.

  When we were paired together as swim buddies on day one, I was pissed right the hell off. I knew I had what it took to be a damn good SEAL, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be saddled with Brody.

  The number one rule was to never leave your buddy behind and having him as my buddy was bound to be a major liability. When I first saw him, there was no doubt in my mind he would be one of many to ring the bell and signal their defeat. Not only was I going to have to make sure I never rang that damn bell, I would need to stand between him and it anytime he was ready to call it quits.

  Quickly, I realized he wanted this as badly as I did and I was never so happy to be proved wrong in my life. Brody was the one who figured out the trick that helped us both survive. We got four meals a day, one every six hours. After our first day, Brody started to measure our time in meals. We pushed hard with one goal in mind: making it to the next meal. After a couple days, we were both operating on auto-pilot, focused on each six-hour block of time, pushing hard until we made it through the final day. He more than earned my respect and blew my misconceptions out of the water.

  His skills on the keyboard had saved our asses on more than one mission—something I later realized the Navy had counted on when they gave him the chance to become a SEAL. I could ask Brody for anything and there was no doubt in my mind he’d either get me what I needed or die trying.

  “You know you’re going to owe me an explanation later, right?” Brody asked, drawing my attention back to the problem at hand.

  “I know.”

  I heard the sound of typing in the background. “Found someone. I’m sending you contact information now.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You need me to meet you in Atlanta?” he asked.

  I had no idea what was going on with Serena, but I knew what it took for Brody to make that offer. I didn’t want him to leave Vegas unless it was absolutely necessary. “Hold tight for now. I’ll let you know once I get there.”

  “Does Damian know you’re heading out?”

  “Not yet,” I answered. “I’ll talk to him after Serena has what she needs. I’ll let you know more once I know the plan.”

  As soon as I hung up, Brody’s text was waiting for me. I forwarded it to Serena.

  Me: Call this guy ASAP. He’ll help you until I can get there.

  Serena: Got it.

  Me: WTF is going on?

  Serena: Not sure it’s safe to text. Tell you when I see you.

  Me: I’m overseas. It will take me about 24 hours to get there.

  I waited a few minutes, but there was no reply. I figured she had either turned her phone off or was giving the guy a call. With that taken care of, I needed to talk to my boss—Brody’s big brother, Damian.

  Even though Brody and I were as close as brothers, six years passed before I met Damian. At the time, I was flat on my back in a naval hospital with Brody in the bed next to me. Our last mission had been fucked up beyond belief. Brody had been riding shotgun when we were hit by an IED. I’d been in the back of the humvee and was thrown clear of the wreckage. By the time I made it back to my team, three of our teammates were dead and Brody was hanging on by a thread. We were less than half a mile from our extraction point and I managed to carry him to the helo before taking a round to the knee as I was climbing on board.

  When I awoke in the hospital, my injuries weren’t as bad as Brody’s, but we both knew we were going to be found unfit for duty. Brody’s doctors had already sent a summary of his condition and records over to the nearest designated medical treatment facility. Mine were on their way since I was going to undergo knee replacement surgery. Damn bullet to the knee completely fucked it up and blew my chances to stay with the teams.

  Eventually, Damian wanted to take his brother home and get him the best medical care possible, but Brody wasn’t willing to leave without me. Once he told his brother I’d saved his life, Damian was more than willing to smooth the way for me to be discharged at the same time. The next few months were eye-opening for me. I had an up close and personal view into the lives of the rich and famous.

  Damian attracted attention wherever he went. He liked to take chances and risked a decent amount of the family fortune to build a casino on the strip in Las Vegas a few years back. The gamble paid off when the resort became wildly popular, but it put them in the public eye more than Brody wanted. It wasn’t a problem when he was rarely home, but now he just wanted to be left alone while he struggled with his rehabilitation and learned how to deal with people’s reactions to the scars on his face.

  People wanted what the Slaters had and being accessible meant Damian was the one in the crosshairs. It didn’t help that Brody had become a paranoid motherfucker. The security around Damian was good—the best money could buy. But Brody knew there were men who were trained better, those who would put his life before theirs. Men who had served their country with a blind loyalty that was hard to find. And he wanted the best for his brother.

  When my recovery was complete and I started looking for a job, Brody asked his brother to hire me as the head of his personal security. He didn’t have to push hard to get him to say yes and with the salary Damian offered, it was a no-brainer for me to accept. A strange path brought me to where I was today: a casino in Monte Carlo, dressed in a tux, while Damian played a high-stakes game of poker for more money than I made in a year—which was a hell of a lot of money.

  Heading over to the table, I turned my attention to each of the players before focusing on my boss. His pile of chips had steadily grown over the last couple hours. I had enough experience watching him play over the last year to know it wasn’t going to be much longer before he’d walk away from the game victorious. I motioned to the two guards traveling with us, preparing them to be ready to leave soon, before moving to stand silently behind him. I waited until the current hand was finished before tapping him on the shoulder—our signal there was a problem that couldn’t wait.

  Damian leaned back in his chair, tilting his head so I could whisper in his ear. “I have a personal emergency and need to head back to the States.”

  Surprised by my words, he swiveled in his seat to stare at me silently for a moment. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have a personal life,” he murmured.

  “Fuck off,” I grumbled.

  “Is that any way to talk to the man who’s going to let you borrow his private jet?” he joked before raising a finger, gesturing ‘one minute’. Turning back to the table, he focused on cards he was dealt and the other players as the round proceeded. After a few minutes, he pushed his pile of chips into the center. “All in.”

  Every player folded but one. When Damian turned over his cards to reveal a full house with kings and nines,
the last remaining player swore before shoving back from the table to storm away. I couldn’t help but hope Damian’s streak of good luck held true for me—and Serena.

  Chapter 2

  Delia

  The End...

  Typing those two little words always left me feeling bittersweet. A mixture of relief for finishing on schedule—although it was quite often in the nick of time—sadness for feeling like I was saying goodbye to close friends, and a hint of guilt since I had no right being upset. As impossible as it was for me to believe sometimes, I had the best job in the world, the one I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl.

  All those years of imagining tall tales and having my nose stuck in a book paid off when I finally sat down at my laptop to write my own. Now I spent my days creating romantic stories filled with alpha males and happily-ever-afters. As if that wasn’t enough, I spent my nights reading them, too. My life revolved around the written word and I couldn’t be happier—except when it came to meeting men.

  Not the fictitious ones who lived in my head—I had plenty of those—it was meeting real life guys that presented a problem. Apparently, you needed to leave the house to find them, preferably not looking like you’ve just spent a week living under a rock—which is exactly what happened when I disappeared into my writing cave. The bottom line was, I had been too focused on my writing career and hadn’t made time for dating lately.

  Even if I had, once you factored in my impossibly high standards, you had the perfect recipe for a lengthy dry spell. I blamed it on reading so many romance novels growing up. I wanted a man my body craved, someone who made my heart beat faster with just one look, a look that said I was the only woman in the world. Fidelity, passion, and love...was I really asking for too much?

  I also needed to add another feeling to the list: lonely. Most people wouldn’t understand how I could miss people who only lived in my head, but saying goodbye to them wasn’t easy. Doing it after spending two weeks completely by myself didn’t help the situation at all. Logically, I knew coming up to the cabin to submerse myself into writing was my choice, but I wasn’t thinking with my head right now—I was thinking with my heart. And my heart felt the pang of loneliness more than usual due to so many days of solitude.