Hot SEAL, Savannah Nights

by Kris Michaels

  Hot SEAL, Savannah Nights

  Kris Michaels

  Copyright © 2019 by Kris Michaels

  Cover Art: Elle James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, uploading, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher at the email address below.

  Krismichaelsauthor@gmail.com

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model. This book is fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictionally. Any resemblance of any actual persons, living or dead, events or locations are entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  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

  Untitled

  Also by Kris Michaels

  Sneak Peek of Jacob, The Kings of Guardian, Book 1

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  At the ass crack of dawn, the San Diego airport lacked its normal hysteria. Good thing. Rio North sighed and reluctantly handed off the economy class boarding pass to his friend while he tucked the one marked first class into the front pocket of his shirt. Flying economy was going to be a pain in the ass for the man standing next to him—literally. "Seriously, Dutch, you need to upgrade. There is no way you are going to be able to stretch out in an economy seat, and you know what the doctor said about pulling those stitches." He couldn't help but smile at his best friend’s middle finger salute. "All joking aside, I'll pay for your upgrade. Your ass literally needs to be in first class." Rio leaned back and glanced down at his friend's ass...well actually the cheek where he'd been shot coming back from their last fucking mission.

  "No, dammit, Compass, I already told you I can't afford it, and I'm not accepting charity." He held up a hand stopping Rio. "Not even from you." Levi Van Der Heyden, “Dutch” to the members of their team, shook his head, putting a nonverbal punctuation on his adamant refusal.

  Rio reached up and rubbed his neck. He didn't like it—at all. The bank account his parents funded when he'd entered the service—and despite his objections continued to add to—was a few coins shy of tipping seven figures. The only times he’d tapped into that fund, the money had benefited one of his teammates. It never bothered him that no one knew where the money had come from. He didn’t need the accolades. He just wanted to help his guys, and he was able to do so anonymously for the most part.

  Dammit, Dutch needed the extra room. All jokes aside, and there had been a butt-load of butt jokes, he was serious about getting Dutch upgraded. Rio turned, trying to think of a way to swap tickets with his friend or... He made eye contact with the young attendant at the airline ticket counter.

  He turned to eye Dutch. His friend was carefully lowering to sit down. Dutch leaned slightly left, trying to alleviate any pressure on the wound. The dude was a trouper. He wasn't complaining even though his thigh and ass cheek had been through a bullet-charged meat grinder. He felt for his friend. Rio had been there, done that and gotten the Purple Heart for being injured in the line of duty. He knew the pain of a bullet wound, and he couldn't imagine having to sit on the injury. Dutch was keeping it together, but that ass cheek and thigh of his had to hurt like a motherfucker.

  He glanced at the counter again. Screw it. Even if he had to tell a bald-faced lie, he was going to get that ticket upgraded. He tapped his hand against his thigh for a moment trying to formulate a way to get Dutch into first class, or hell even business class. "I'm going to go talk to the clerk over there."

  Dutch's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Rio held up his hand stopping the rant he knew was coming. "I'm not spending a dime, but sometimes they upgrade active duty personnel. Let me see what I can do. Okay?"

  Dutch glanced from Rio to the cute little brunette who was eyeing Rio with blatant appreciation and chuckled. "Damn, man, you could pick up a woman anywhere, couldn't you?"

  Not really, it wasn't his thing, but he got ribbed for the women who flirted with him. He didn't mind the smack talk; it went with the territory. His team wasn't malicious, they were just... damn they were his best friends, and he sure as fuck was going to miss them. He forced a smile onto his face and slapped a detour sign on the direction his thoughts were going. Instead, he shrugged Dutch's comments off. "It's a God-given talent. But that's not what this is about. Give me your military ID."

  Dutch hesitated. No doubt to object again, which wasn't going to happen. Rio snatched the card out of his hand along with Dutch's ticket. The man blinked at him, and Rio waved the items in the air between them. "Shit, that damaged ass muscle has messed up your reflexes."

  "Fuck you, man. It's the pain meds." Dutch narrowed his eyes at Rio and clipped, "Not a penny, Compass, not a fucking penny. Got it?"

  "Loud and clear." Rio pointed to him. "Stay here and look pathetic." He turned and made it three feet before he started laughing. There had to be a way to get Dutch in first class with him. He turned around. The little asshole was watching him like a hawk. If he reached for his wallet, Dutch would know.

  "How can I help you today?"

  His attention settled on the cute little brunette with the big brown eyes who blinked up at him. She smiled slowly and batted her eyes. He was used to the constant flirting. Before he entered the service, he was on the receiving end of the attention because he was rich and rolled with the right crowds. Fat lot of good that did him. Now, hell, who knew, maybe it was the way he carried himself and the uniform. Ladies liked military men.

  He leaned down on the counter so he was at eye level with her. "Hi, Brittany." He winked as his eyes traveled from her name tag to her blushing face. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor. My friend and I are in the military. He can't travel alone because he was shot on our last mission, and I'm escorting him home to Alaska. He really needs the leg room that first class offers, but you know the military doesn't pay us hardly anything. Do you think you could help him out?"

  "I don't know. I'm not supposed to upgrade people who aren't in the frequent flyer program or have credit card points in the system." She glanced at the other clerks who were either busy or talking among themselves. At five in the morning, not much was happening at the San Diego airport.

  She looked behind him to make sure she wouldn't be over heard and asked, "What flight are you on?"

  Rio handed her both tickets, his first class and Dutch's economy seat. Brittany tapped at the keyboard. She glanced up and then over at Dutch. "There are three seats available and four premium members who qualify for upgrades." She bit her plump lip and lowered her eyes, flicking a glance down the line of workers behind the counter. "Your ticket is linked to a corporate account. We could use the points in that account to upgrade him."

  He grinned at her. His d
ad had pretty much demanded Rio use the corporate card for the flight home. It was his dad's way of taking care of him. His uptight brother, who managed the company the card was tied to would probably have a cow, but fuck it, for Dutch, he'd suffer Mason's wrath. The thought of his older brother brought with it a familiar sadness and deep frustration. What the hell had gone wrong? One more thing to deal with when he got home.

  He smiled at Brittany. "Do it."

  Her fingers flew across the keyboard. He'd kept his word to Dutch, not a penny spent.

  The printer spit out the paper ticket.

  "Is his luggage already checked in?"

  Rio pointed to the two duffle bags that had yet to be thrown on the conveyor belt. "Those are ours."

  She hit another series of buttons and then popped a priority tag onto the bags.

  She came back and glanced at Dutch. "Will you be needing assistance?"

  Rio blinked. Oh, shit yeah. A smile spread across his face. He straightened to his full six feet, five inches, turned and glanced over the heads of the people milling behind him. Dutch saw him looking and pointed at him while shaking his head. His friend knew him so well. He gave Dutch his best 'I'm so fucking you over' smile and spun back to Brittany. "Absolutely. Can we get a wheelchair?"

  "No problem, both here and at the destination. Oh, wait, you're switching planes in Seattle. I'll get a wheelchair or an electric cart ordered for that location, too." She tapped away at the keyboard before she handed him the tickets back. "You'll have priority boarding. When the gate attendant calls for those who need a little extra time to board, you can take him through. I have you listed as his escort in the system."

  "Perfect. Absolutely perfect." Rio tapped the tickets against the counter. "Thank you so much for your help. My friend will appreciate all your efforts as much as I do."

  She pulled at a lock of her hair and smiled. "Any time. Are you stationed here?"

  Rio shook his head. "This was my last tour. I'm heading home."

  She cocked her head and looked up at him. "Such a shame."

  "Definitely bad timing. Take care of yourself, Brittany." He smiled and winked at her again.

  Dutch eyed him as he crossed the cream color tile. "Why do you have a shit eating grin on your face? What did you do?"

  "I'm smiling because I'm a fucking magic man." He handed Dutch his ticket. "First Class all the way, brother." Rio heard Brittany's voice over the overhead requesting wheelchair assistance at the ticket counter. Dutch either didn't hear the announcement or ignored it. Rio couldn't help smiling like a loon.

  "Did you buy this?" Dutch lifted the ticket and glared at him.

  Rio lifted his hands and shook his head. "Nope. Not a penny spent. I swear on my mother's grave."

  "Your mother is alive, asshole."

  "Yeah, but we have a family plot, and we all have real estate allotted. I swear I didn't spend a single dime on that ticket, man. That pretty little thing over there hooked you up." He motioned at Brittany who was now busy with another customer.

  "Sir, are you ready?" Rio twisted around at the voice behind him. An airline attendant waited with a wheelchair.

  "What the f–"

  "Yes, thank you!" Rio spoke over Dutch's exclamation. He lowered his hand in front of Dutch. "Take it, dude. Let's get you up. I'm sure standing is a royal pain in the ass." Rio sniggered but offered the assistance to help Dutch stand because he wasn't a complete dick.

  "Dammit, Compass, I'm not sitting in that." Dutch motioned wildly at the wheel chair.

  "Oh, so you're going to climb all those stairs?" Rio pivoted on his heel and pointed to the escalator that was most definitely not working.

  "Fuck me." Dutch deflated in front of his eyes.

  "Not in this lifetime. Come on, sweet cheeks. Don't get butt hurt over it." Rio laughed and jumped out of Dutch's reach. The punch to the arm would have stung like a bitch if it had connected. Dutch was a compact little shit, but he was strong.

  "Those jokes are getting old." Dutch tossed the foam doughnut onto the wheelchair and pushed his bag into Rio's hands.

  "No, they really aren't." Rio laughed as he held out his hand. Dutch spun and grabbed it, using Rio to slowly lower himself onto the chair. Oh, my God, this trip was going to be worth the price of the ticket. Rio strode beside his best friend's wheelchair as they headed to the elevator. He was positive the jokes would get old. Sooner or later. But until then… butt... Rio threw his head back and laughed. Dutch didn't even bother to look at him. His friend just closed his eyes and lifted his middle finger.

  Rio made sure to get Dutch onto the plane before the crush of humanity pushed through the gateway. It never ceased to amaze him why people would tote their too heavy carry-ons and power through the plane in the race to get to their seat first so they could stuff their belongings into the tiny overhead bin. Life would be a lot simpler if everyone just paid the twenty-five bucks and dealt with baggage claim. He stretched his legs out as he waited for the plane to fill. It was nice to travel in first class again. Normally when his team flew for a mission, the unit would be shoehorned into the economy section. The upgrade was nice.

  The trip to Seattle took just under three hours. The flight attendant flirted, which was fun. Rio tried and succeeded in irritating the ever-loving-fuck out of Dutch. God, he was going to miss the camaraderie. They disembarked first, thanks to the lovely lady who held up the rest of first class so they could not only leave first but make it up the gangway to the gate before the rest of the passengers careened out of the passageway like they were shot out of an M-4.

  He laughed at Dutch's reaction to the electric cart that waited for them. He laughed harder when it stopped exactly three gates from where they’d disembarked. Rio tipped the Skycap when Dutch wasn't looking. The extra compensation was money well spent for the years of ribbing Rio would lay on Dutch.

  They boarded for Anchorage. Neither were particularly talkative as the miles passed. Shit was getting real now. He was going to drop off Dutch and head home. Amazing how much he'd fooled himself into thinking he'd be okay with leaving. Last night he made the rounds and said goodbye to his team—the people he bled for, and the ones who’d bled for him. It was fucking hard to leave, to walk away from his brothers. They were more like brothers to him than his own flesh and blood who waited in Savannah.

  Rio played off the team's questions about what he was going to do at home. He'd been on the firing side of the 'rich boy' comments his entire career. He had a vision, and he had the means, but if he wasn't able to get his company up and running, he'd feel like a failure. So, he'd been tight-lipped. It was his goal to make sure he could help each of his brothers when they transitioned. Dutch was at a crossroads and wasn't sure if he was going to re-up. The man had some serious thinking to do, and it wasn't an easy decision. God, didn't he know it. The decision to punch his ticket and walk away was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

  Rio rolled his head and looked out the window as the plane started its descent. The world he would reenter as soon as he got Dutch home safely was far from the world he'd lived in the last twelve years, but he was turning thirty in a few months. Thirty fucking years old and in order to inherit his portion of the massive North wealth, he needed to be home, and at a minimum, act as a trustee to the board of advisors. Granted, it would take little to no time out of his life in general, but he needed to be stateside and available when called. He couldn't guarantee those two conditions while performing his duties as a SEAL, so he'd made a decision. He was getting out, but he wasn't going to go back to the life he’d had before he entered the service. That privileged way of living was okay for the likes of his tightly wound and locked down brother, but not for him. Never again. He had plans for the money he'd have access to after he signed the discharge papers in November.

  The seed of an idea had come to him after a conversation with a recruiter from Guardian Security. The man spoke his language. He understood the drive embedded in each and every member of his elite br
ethren, but so many didn't.

  He could recall every word they shared at that brief meeting. It was a moment or two of his time, but those words stuck with him.

  "How did you find out I was thinking of punching?" Rio asked the man in front of him.

  "We generally operate by word of mouth, referrals from some that have already come on board. With you, I know your Skipper. Word travels. I was told you were getting out and I wanted to extend an offer to you. Come work for us." The recruiter for Guardian laughed and continued, "but I have to admit I know you won't. We ran a check on you. There is a hell of a bump in status heading your way soon."

  Rio blinked at the man. "How did you–"

  The man held up a hand cutting him off. "Our company has access to things that would boggle your mind. Your personal information is yours. I haven't said anything to anyone, but regardless of the size of your wallet, we think you'd be an asset. We could use you. Guardian is undergoing an expansion, and we need solid, trained, and qualified people. The pay's good."

  Rio glanced at the three-piece suit the man wore. Bespoke. His Pops and dad had walk-in closets full of the custom-tailored threads. "I don't doubt it, but right now I can't make any commitments. I need to get home and find ground zero. Feel me?"

  He stood and handed Rio a card. "I'm feeling you, and hey, I understand if you don't call, but keep that card. If you hear about any of your brothers who are getting out and looking for someplace to call home, we'd be interested."

  He watched the man walk out and glanced at the card.