Why isn’t that me? His mind and body couldn’t slow down. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to let this familiar place and a beer soothe him. At least he hoped it would. McP’s was a special home for his kind. Owned by one of his brethren, there was Navy SEAL memorabilia on the walls, a trident on the T-shirts, and oftentimes the bar would fill with sightseers and froghogs—women who hopped from frog to frog. In the Underwater Demolition Team, or UDT—the precursor to the SEAL Team—these Navy sailors were called frogmen. Later on, the name was changed to better show their areas of operation: SEAL—SEa Air Land—but the age-old name for the women who pursued them never got updated.
Half his Teammates were in committed relationships, and the rest dicked around almost constantly. Lately, his celibacy walk had turned into a preference. It had begun as a way to concentrate on work, and now…
Maybe he just didn’t have what it took—a crap tolerance—to be in a relationship.
The back of his head exploded with a sudden and sharp pain. His hand lifted automatically, rubbing over the healing wound and stubbly blond hair.
“Red Jack!” His eyes whipped open, and for a second, he could have sworn that he’d heard Don. That was impossible. His swim buddy was dead, and there was nothing that could bring him back.
Pain squeezed his neck. His vision blurred and for a moment an image of his friend flashed before his eyes.
The rush of emotions for his swim buddy was the kind of tidal wave that could take out a city, and equally as devastating as it crashed over him again and again. He’d have done anything to have Petty Officer Second Class Donald Dennis Kanoa Donnelly alive and well. Sorrow punched his heart, but he’d never show it, especially not in public.
His phone vibrated. Jack had the cell in his hand before he remembered he was supposed to be on vacation—no one would be calling him for sudden deployment.
Punching a button, he accessed the email. Appointments had been scheduled for him: group therapy and individual sessions. Can’t this Frankenstein wannabe leave me alone? I don’t need a doctor.
He just needed to keep it together long enough to go operational again. Being on medical leave was like swallowing two-inch nails whole: it hurt the entire way down and out. He had way too much time on his hands to think. He needed action.
“Petty Officer First Class John Matthew Roaker.”
His name was a command that had Jack sitting up straight in his chair. Any other service would have a guy standing at attention before the rank and name had been completely spoken. Spec Ops was different, more laid-back.
“Taking a trip down memory lane?” commented a gruff man with salt-and-pepper hair and a long bushy mustache. His sideburns were like hairy caterpillars perched on the side of his face. The man took a step closer to Jack and grinned. A fat cigar was clamped between his lips and his voice had lost the hard edge and was warming progressively. “Shit, you look like a newbie jarhead, Jack! We’re going to have to mess you up a bit! So you look like a fucking SEAL.”
“Good to see you, Commander,” replied Jack, already proffering his hand to greet his former BUD/S Instructor, now mentor. With a grin on his lips that spoke volumes of the man’s capacity for jocularity, Commander Gich didn’t appear to be the kind of guy who could teach you fifty different ways to kill with a knife.
His gaze connected with the Commander’s. Jack took comfort in the stare. Emotion hung like a bad painting just behind his own eyeballs, but he pushed past the weight of it. “Sir, it’s great to see you.”
Jack stood and the men embraced, slapping hands on each other’s backs in heavy smacks and then briskly separating. There was a tremendous sense of the familial. Jack needed that right now.
“You too!” said the Commander. “How’s the brain? Is it still swelling? I can think of better things to make swell.”
“Christ! They’re not sure. You know docs. Though, I’m pretty sure the fracture’s better.” Jack reseated himself, eager to change the subject. “I was thinking about my first drink here, and then there was the Hell Week celebration, when you and I drank until the kitchen opened for the early birds’ lunch the next morning.” He could practically taste the stale alcohol. Bile threatened to rise, but he shoved it down. Yep, that memory was definitely intact! Why couldn’t he have lost that day, instead of the events from the last Op? He needed those memories.
“No shit! You were so hungover from those shots that you puked your guts out in the back of my car.” Gich signaled the waitress for a beer. “Still doesn’t smell right. But it’s easy to find Blue Betty in the dark.” His grin could have lit up the darkest depths. “So, how’s it going, Jack? What’s with the shrink-wrap therapy? I may be retired, but I’m still in the loop.”
Shaking his head, Jack said, “I don’t know. It’s been…” He searched his mind for the word, but he couldn’t even find that. Who really wanted to know the inner workings of a SEAL? They might not like what they find in there, and then what? SEALs had more layers than an artichoke.
“Hard, complicated, and disillusioning to come back from a mission that’s seriously goat-fucked. You’re not the first, Roaker, and unfortunately, you won’t be the last. Just don’t become a poster boy, it’s not your gig.”
“Yeah, me a poster boy! Could you see me in Ronald McDonald hair?” cracked Jack without missing a beat. It felt good to have someone giving him shit. Everyone had been so “nice” to him lately that it creeped him out. “Sure I can pull off the look, but all those hands to shake, personal appearances, and then there goes your private life.”
“Wiseass!” A shapely blond waitress who could easily be a modern-day Marilyn Monroe placed an icy beer in front of Gich. “Thanks, Betsy. I knew you’d remember how I liked it.”
“Anything for you, Gich.” She winked at him and headed back inside. The bar was pretty empty for a Tuesday afternoon, but it’d pick up tonight and be packed with military personnel on the hunt for hook-ups and single ladies on the quest for the golden ring. That was old hat for him, and he’d rather work out, clean his guns, anything…
“I can make a few recommendations. There are a couple of medical professionals who use unconventional methods. Alternative healing… it might help.” Gich looked at him over the top of his beer as he drank. “The person I’m thinking of does acupressure. Did wonders for my knees and lower back.”
“Doctors aren’t my preference.” Jack contemplated getting a pain pill out of his pocket, but he knew it’d be a dicey mix with the alcohol. He preferred to drink, so he left it in his pocket and took another sip.
“Roaker, you can talk to me,” said Gich, drawing on his cigar and puffing out a long thin stream of smoke.
Jack sat silently, briefly weighing his thoughts before he shared them. “Six weeks ago when I left here, I was ready for the mission. Even though there were a couple strikes against it. First, Tucker kept getting changing Intel on the location and how it was laid out. Second, the resources seemed underkill for a plan of this magnitude, and whenever I brought it up, they told me to add as much as we needed. So I did, but it never felt like enough. Third, when we got there, nothing was as discussed; the place was a ghost town outside with only a few people inside. Either the information was terrible, or—”
“You were being set up. Seems unlikely, in the Teams,” said Gich, softly leaning forward. “What happened next?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I can see my feet hitting the dirt and watching everyone take position, and then… nothing.”
Gich took the cigar from his mouth. “Did you see Don die?”
“I must have…” Pain ripped through his heart as he pushed hard to make it go away. “But I don’t remember any of it. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m beached like a whale until I can remember, and it’s ripping me apart to be this still. I need help.”
“You need to get out, have some fun. Don’t think. Just react and let go of everything.” Gich surveyed him with a critical eye befo
re turning his gaze back to watch the shapely blond go through her routine of serving drinks and taking orders. “The watched pot never boils, or in our case, the undrunk beer only gets warm and flat.”
Jack gave a half smile. “I’m not really in the mood for socializing.”
“Come on, you’d have to be dead not to appreciate that,” Gich said, motioning toward the waitress.
He had to admit the bending and reaching of the busty waitress was rather compelling, but he had more important stuff on his mind and couldn’t even consider flirting right now. Shifting in his chair, he found a more comfortable position and said, “What I want to know is how do I… get my warrior mentality back?”
Those words captured Gich’s attention as his eyes locked on Jack’s. The lesson of finding his equilibrium and balance had been the hardest trick for Jack to learn. Gich had worked doubly hard with him on that one. They’d developed all sorts of techniques to help him out, but right now, Jack felt like his skin was crawling off his body and he had to nail himself to a chair to keep still. Did other SEALs feel like an alien in a human body?
With a deliberate and slow movement, Gich brought his hand up and rested it gently on Jack’s arm. But no matter how slowly he’d moved, Jack still flinched and had an urge to pull away. Forcing himself to be still took some concentration.
“Give it time. PTSD happens. Ride it out.” Gich leaned forward and whispered, “And while you’re waiting, go get your whiskers wet and your dick licked. You’re a fucking hero; you should take advantage of it.” He pulled back his hand, grabbed the neck of his beer, and chugged it down. When it was empty, he waved it in the air. “Tonight, Dick’s Last Resort. There are all sorts of SEAL fans there. I’m sure the Naval Special Warfare fund-raiser crowd would benefit from laying eyeballs on you, too. Why not go get your pick of the, uh, ladies? Tour some sweet spots and give your brain some time off.”
The idea of being surrounded by that many people made Jack’s stomach clench, but he knew Gich was right. He had to get back out there. Going from the Op to the hospital, and now home, had not afforded him the opportunity to decompress, let alone figure out how to socialize with anyone of the fairer sex.
Maybe getting hot and heavy would help. He could love ’em and leave ’em as easily as the rest of them, though it seriously had been a while. Love just wasn’t a priority the majority of the time, though sex was almost always welcome.
Acknowledgments
With great thanks to:
My brilliant and loving husband—retired Navy SEAL, EOD, and PRU Advisor—LT Carl E. Swepston; Retired Navy SEAL and EOD LT Commander Thomas C. Rancich, an exceptional soul who answered a ton of questions and provided a great deal of insight, and his amazing Liz; to “O” GOATROPER, John T. Curtis and his Miranda; Retired Navy SEAL LT Jerry Todd—thanks for the HALO help and laughter—and his amazing wife, Pete; former Navy SEAL Dan Peterson, for his humor and inspiration; and much gratitude to the Vietnam-era “Old Frogs and SEALs,” who contributed comments and stories; and a shout-out to all of our operational friends—thank you!
To Christine Feehan, thank you for being such an outstanding inspiration and joy. You bring a special gift to our industry and have inspired me greatly.
To Cathy Maxwell, thank you for being so awesome. Faith is the key.
To DC and Charles DeVane—You rock!
Cheers to my friends: Laurie DeSalvo aka Lia DeAngela; Jan Albertie; Alisa Kwitney; Kim Adams Lowe; Christina Skye; Leslie Wainger; Domini Walker; Brian Feehan; Sheila Clover English; Ed English; Barbara Vey; Dianna Love; Denise Coyle; Cathy Mann; Angela Knight; Renee Bernard; Megan Bamford; Mary Beth Bass; the RWA CoLoNY, RWA-NYC, and RWA-SD chapters; Sam and Diego and Zavier; Maria R., Maria. M., Gini, Maria N., Joao, Frank, and Emanuel; Kim and Paul K.; Jill and Carl H.; Brenda S.S., Mary H., Nonny, Anne M., Kathryn, Erika, Simone, Stephanie H., Ing C., Rose S., Ginger D., Laura L., Cindy, Lynn, Kat, Robyn, Mic, and the entire BB crew; Kathryn Falk, Carol Stacy, Kenneth Rubin, Liz French, Mala Bhattacharjee, Jo Carol Jones, and the RT Book Reviews and RT Book Lovers crew.
And to my terrific agent, Eric Ruben.
Thank you to my superhero editor, Leah Hultenschmidt.
To the Sourcebooks team—Kimberly, Beth, Cat, Susie, Skye, and Danielle—and to the fabulous Deb Werksman and amazing Dominique Raccah.
With infinite love and respect to my parents—always!
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SEALed with a Ring
by Mary Margret Daughtridge
She’s got it all… except the one thing she needs most
Smart, successful businesswoman JJ Caruthers has a year to land a husband or lose the empire she’s worked so hard to build. With time running out, romance is not an option, and a military husband who is always on the road begins to look like the perfect solution…
He’s a wounded hero with an agenda of his own
Even with the scars of battle, Navy SEAL medic Davy Graziano is gorgeous enough to land any woman he wants, and he’s never wanted to be tied down. Now Davy has ulterior motives for accepting JJ’s outrageous proposal of marriage, but he only has so long to figure out what JJ doesn’t want him to know…
“With a surprising amount of heart, Daughtridge makes a familiar story read like new as the icy JJ melts under Davy’s charm during a forced marriage. The supporting cast, including one really unattractive dog, makes Daughtridge’s latest one for the keeper shelves.” —RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
For more Mary Margret Daughtridge, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
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He’s got a living, breathing dilemma…
In the midst of running an undercover CIA mission, Navy SEAL Lt. Garth Vale finds an abandoned baby, and his superiors sure don’t want to know about it. The only person who can help him is the beautiful new doctor in town, but she’s got another surprise for him…
She’s got a solution… at a price…
Dr. Bronwyn Whitescarver has left the frantic pace of big city ER medicine for a small town medical practice. Her bags aren’t even unpacked yet when gorgeous, intense Garth Vale shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night with a sick baby…
But his story somehow doesn’t add up, and Bronwyn isn’t quite sure who she’s saving—the baby, or the man…
“Take two strong characters, throw in some humor and a baby and you’ve got a perfect combination for a heartwarming romance. The suspense subplot is a bonus in this well-written story.” —RT Book Reviews, 4.5 Stars
For more Mary Margret Daughtridge, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Free Fall
USA Today Bestselling Author
by Catherine Mann
On this mission, there are no accidents…
Pararescueman Jose “Cuervo” James is the guy they call for the most dangerous assignments. He lives for his job.
On a high-risk rescue deep in the African jungle, Jose encounters sexy, smart Interpol agent Stella Carson. They’d once had an affair that burned hot and fast, but family is everything to Stella, and Jose just can’t go there.
Fate has thrown them into the deadly hot zone together, and sparks will fly…but only if they can live to tell about it.
“Mann sweeps readers along with pulse-pounding suspense, passion, and a full-out frontal assault of the senses that will keep readers gripping their seats.”—RT Book Reviews, 4.5 Stars
“Mann’s novel of romantic suspense has everything she’s known for—engaging protagonists,
a solid military background, great sex and sexual tension, and a ripped-from-the-headlines immediacy.”—Booklist
For more Catherine Mann, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Bad Nights
New York Times Bestselling Author
by Rebecca York
You only get a second chance…
Private operative and former Navy SEAL Jack Brandt barely escapes a disastrous undercover assignment, thanks to the most intriguing woman he’s ever met. When his enemies track him to her doorstep, he’ll do anything to protect Morgan from the danger closing in on them both…
If you stay alive…
Since her husband’s death, Morgan Rains has only been going through the motions. She didn’t think anything could shock her—until she finds a gorgeous man stumbling naked and injured through the woods behind her house. He’s mysterious, intimidating—and undeniably compelling.
Thrown together into a pressure cooker of danger and intrigue, Jack and Morgan are finding in each other a reason to live—if they can survive.
“Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense.”—Nora Roberts
“Rebecca York’s writing is fast-paced, suspenseful, and loaded with tension.”—Jayne Ann Krentz
For more Rebecca York, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
About the Author
Anne Elizabeth is a romance author and a comic creator. With a BS in Business and MS in Communications from Boston University, she is a regular presenter at the RT Book Lovers Convention as well as a member of the Authors Guild and Romance Writers of America. Her published credits include stories with Atria/Simon & Schuster, Highland Press, Dynamite Entertainment, Sea Lion Books, and Bravo Zulu Studios, LLC. AE is the recipient of the RT Book Reviews LA Banks Warrior Woman Award. She grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut, and now lives in the mountains above San Diego with her husband, a retired Navy SEAL. In her free time, she is also a serious Amelia Earhart who is always on the hunt for a new adventure. Most recently, she jumped from an airplane and flew a glider. Her motto is Live Boldly. Catch AE on the Web at AnneElizabeth.net.
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