“I’m going to miss you, Pat,” she whispered, careful not to wake Gabriel.
“Me too.” I kissed her slowly. I needed this kiss to take me through a long deployment.
Her arms wrapped around me. She held me tight, and nibbled my ear. I loved it when she did that. She reached out, grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.
I was about to undress her and make love to her for the final time before I left. But she stopped me and knelt in front of me on the bed.
She took me in her mouth, and I gasped. I hadn’t let her go down on me since the night in the brothel. I still felt guilty about that day. It changed our lives forever, for the best, but I couldn’t shake the guilt. I hired her. I used her.
I stopped her and made her look at me. “You don’t have to do this, Annie. Ever.”
“I want to, Pat. I’m going to miss you so much it will hurt. I love you. I want to please you. I’m your wife.”
She wrapped her lips around me, her tongue dancing again. My mind flashed to that night in the brothel. We’d come full circle. Same girl, same amazing technique. But this time, instead of imagining that she was my faithful, loving, girlfriend who lived for pleasing me, and that being with me even for just a few months out of the year was worth enduring the loneliness when I was gone, it was real. She was real. She was mine. She respected that being a SEAL was my calling, and she didn’t want to change me.
I pushed her off me. I had something to tell her.
“Annie, I love you.”
She looked me straight in the eye. “I know. I love you, too.”
I meant it. I loved her.
She was no longer my mission.
She was my wife.
Epilogue
Annie
Three months later
GABRIEL AND I STOOD AT the dock. We’d spent all week making Pat’s welcome home sign. It was decorated with trains, American flags, frogs, and seals, the kind you found at the aquarium. In big letters it read, “Welcome home Patrick. Husband, Father and Hero.”
Vic’s mom and his daughter also waited with us. Poor Vic still hadn’t found anyone. He was such a great guy, but he was super picky. At least Kyle was in love, or so Pat said. I’d believe it when I saw it. Supposedly, he’d fallen head over heels for a NFL Cheerleader on the USO tour, one of the San Diego Wildfire Girls. Kyle, Pat and Vic had another rescue adventure—the USO convoy hit an IED and insurgents had taken the women hostage. Unlike my rescue, this one had been all over the news. I kept my eyes glued to the television, hoping to see a clip of my husband. But, of course, they’d managed to evade the media and their names and pictures were kept out of the press. Though this time, credit was given to SEAL Team Seven. Pat said it was just another day at work, completely humble and modest. He, Kyle, and Vic tried to pretend that saving people was no different than pushing papers around in an office. I had to admit, I had a twinge of jealousy knowing that my fine-ass husband had been surrounded by beautiful cheerleaders, who no doubt wanted him. Sexy girls without horrible pasts. I found myself stalking the cheerleaders’ website—eyeing the brunettes, wondering if one of them had caught Pat’s eye. I knew I was just being paranoid and insecure. Still deep down questioning that Pat could ever truly love me. But he went out of his way to assure me how much he worshipped me, every chance he got. I never doubted his fidelity.
Deployment went faster than I’d expected. Pat called every chance he could, which was around every week or so. He sent me letters, gifts for Gabriel, toys for Trigger. He was so kind, thoughtful and romantic. I thanked my stars every day that he was mine.
Gabriel was now in preschool, and I was taking college classes. Only two, because I wanted to ease back into it. The SEAL wives had been so amazing and welcoming—always ready with a casserole or last minute babysitting.
I’d pretty much cut out my old friends, except for Chris. He was still there for me and we met up weekly. He took Gabriel surfing every week. Pat swore he was okay with it, but I knew it made him jealous that another man was playing with his son.
As for my parents, I hadn’t seen them. At all. My mom had called me a few times, begging me to try to work things out with my father, but I wasn’t ready. Not until Patrick was back home. I needed his emotional support and to make sure they accepted him and Gabriel before I agreed to rejoin my family.
Patrick’s mom had come down to visit. I loved her—she was so sweet and warm and Gabriel adored his Granny. She’d even started looking for a job down here. Pat wanted her to move so she could be around for me when he was deployed.
“Mama. It’s Daddy!”
Patrick was standing at the helm of the ship, wearing his sailor uniform, complete with the bib, tie, and bellbottoms. He had at first refused to “man the rail,” but I told him how Gabriel would think it was so cool and how much it would turn me on to see him from the dock. He wanted to make me happy. I knew how much he hated that uniform, but I thought he looked sexy, the way the fabric clung to his ass. My husband was fucking gorgeous.
Pat walked down the gangplank and ran to us. I was so nervous—last time we had greeted him, I didn’t think he’d ever wanted to see me again. Now, we were a family.
He lifted up Gabriel, and pulled me into his strong embrace. A kiss. Long, sweet, loving. His lips, I’d missed them so. I couldn’t wait until tonight to be alone with him.
“Hey babe.” He placed his hand on my belly, now swollen. I was four months pregnant. “How’s our little girl?”
“She’s good. Excited to have her daddy home.” I’d been so nervous to tell him I was pregnant. I’d found out right after he deployed. It was so soon, our marriage, now a new baby. But Pat and I did everything on fast-forward. He was so excited for our new addition, and he went out of his way to tell me over and over how he would never treat Gabriel any different than his biological child. But I never doubted that. And he’d given me the best gift of all—he delayed his plans to apply for SEAL Team Six. He’d instead accepted a three-year assignment as a BUD/S instructor, so he would be home with me, non-deployable for three whole years! He would even be around for the birth of our baby. Kyle and Vic signed up to train BUD/S with him; those men were thick as thieves.
I was about to pepper my man with a thousand questions, kiss him some more, nuzzle his chest. But Gabriel was talking his ear off about soccer.
“Annie Hamilton?”
I turned to the voice, which had called out my former name. My former life. “Can I help you?”
A lady in a fitted red suit was standing there. Clearly not a family member waiting for her loved one. “I’m a reporter for 48 Hours. We’ve been trying to locate you for months.”
My number was unlisted, and I hadn’t even told my parents where I lived. The only one from my past life who knew how to contact me was Chris. “Well, you found me. Can’t you see I’m busy? My husband just returned home from deployment.”
Pat was now alerted to this stranger talking to his wife. “Who are you? What do you want?” Jesus, back not even five minutes and Pat’s protective streak was already into overdrive.
“My name is Judy Miller. We’ve been doing an investigation on the disappearance of Nicole Race, and we have information that a sex ring had kidnapped her. Forced her to work in a brothel. In Aruba. With you, Annie. We’d like to talk to you, have you go on record. But either way, the story is about to break.”
I dropped Patrick’s sign and his face went white.
“Listen, lady. I don’t know what the fuck you think you know, but you better get the fuck away from my wife.”
The lady eyed my son. I clutched him to my side.
Fuck—she knew.
I swallowed hard. “No, Pat, wait. I’m ready.” I turned to the reporter. The words overpowered my lips, just like they had that night in the brothel when I’d told Pat my name. “Nicole and I were both kidnapped and sex trafficked in the Caribbean. Nicole is dead; she overdosed on heroin.”
Pat’s jaw dropped; the expression I’d
seen on his face when he first saw Gabriel under my covers the night he’d saved me.
The reporter shook her head. “No, Annie. You’re wrong. Nicole Race didn’t die. She’s alive. She had amnesia, was living in a small fishing village in Venezuela, no idea who she was. A United States Marine who’d been on vacation with his buddies recognized her, and rescued her. She’s on her way home to the United States now. And her memory has returned.”
Holy fuck! Was she serious? I’d never seen Nicole’s dead body. She’d vanished in the middle of the night and Renzo had told me that she’d overdosed. Pat held me and I collapsed into his arms.
There was no going back now. It was time. Time to heal. Time to tell the world my story.
The story of my life when I hadn’t been Invincible.
When I had been Invisible.
Part I
Conceit
Se7en Deadly SEALs #1
Conceit
The Se7eN Deadly SEALs Series
Episode One
Copyright © 2014 by Alana Albertson.
Cover Designer: Regina Wamba of Mae I Design (https://www.facebook.com/MaeIDesignandPhotography)
Cover Models: Callan Newton and Dani Cooper
Interior design and formatting by JT Formatting (http://www.facebook.com/JTFormatting)
ISBN-13: 978-1-941665-97-8
All rights reserved.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-1-941665-72-5
I DON’T RECOGNIZE THE DAMAGED woman in the mirror staring back at me—platinum-blond hair, blood-red lips and nails, curves laced up in the finest lingerie. I have transformed into a bombshell to exonerate my brother, United States Navy SEAL Joaquín Cruz. He’s been languishing in a jail cell for the past six months, accused of a murder he didn’t commit, his honorable career as a SEAL ruined, his spirit crushed.
I’ve gone undercover as a stripper to entertain the men of SEAL Team Seven—I’ve given up my acting career, my dreams, my home—everything to free Joaquín and discover the truth.
But I didn’t count on having to conceal my identity from my ex-boyfriend, Navy SEAL Grant Carrion. The man I lost my virginity to was caught up in an endless web of sins and temptations, unable to escape from his demons.
As I strip down to my lingerie and dance for Grant, I know that every humiliating moment will be worth my sacrifice—if only I can give my brother back his life. And just maybe, find a way back to Grant’s heart.
Countdown
Se7en deadly Navy SEALs bound to secrecy about a night that ended in tragedy
6ix months my brother Joaquín has spent in jail for murder
5ive hours a day I've trained to go undercover to learn the truth
4our plastic surgeries to transform into a pinup to gain access to their world
Thre3 shots of tequila I knock back before I strip and dance for the SEALs
2wo years since I'd left my soul mate Grant, the only man who can help me now
1ne dead stripper found strangled and drugged
Zer0 room for error
I'm Joaquín's only hope for freedom. No sin is too depraved, no challenge is too great. Even if it means destroying my soul.
1
Mia
THE PRISON GUARD LED ME down the hall to the waiting room. A pregnant girl cowered in the corner, an older couple embraced each other, and a pale, skinny woman bit her nails as a young boy fidgeted in her lap. The rancid smell of vomit loosely masked with bleach made me gag. This scene was so pathetic. We were all here to see our loved ones incarcerated in this hellhole.
“Your boyfriend will be out in ten minutes,” the guard sneered, his eyes undressing me.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother. And he’s innocent.”
The guard laughed and swiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Sure, he is, sweetheart. Never met a guilty one.”
Jerk. That guard wasn’t fit to polish Joaquín’s boots.
After an agonizing wait, the prisoners stumbled out into their partitioned section of the room. My brother came last. All my girlfriends were in love with Joaquín—who could blame them? Even in this pit of despair, he still looked like the ultimate alpha male. His muscles bulged in his orange prison jumpsuit, the elbow-length sleeves barely covering his tattoos.
At least I didn’t have to worry about anyone screwing with him in jail; he was trained to kill a man with his bare hands. Joaquín had everything going for him. Until he was charged with a crime he didn’t commit. I knew my brother, and he simply couldn’t be guilty of what he was accused of doing.
Joaquín was an easy target—a poor Mexican-American orphan with no trust fund, no senator endorsements, and no college education. But my brother had integrity, loyalty, and honor. He would never disgrace his teammates, betray his country, or destroy his brotherhood. And he could never hurt a woman.
He tapped on the glass, and we both reached for the phone. “Thanks for flying down, Mia. Are you okay?”
I threw my free hand in the air. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not the one in jail facing the death penalty for murder. I took the first flight I could get. What the hell happened?”
The man on the other side of the glass wasn’t the brother I’d grown to respect and adore. He was still strong, still resolute, and seemingly impenetrable. But his eyes. . . I looked right into his eyes. Though his long dark lashes covered his pain, I knew him too well. To anyone else he would seem formidable, but to his baby sister he looked broken, torn.
“I didn’t kill her. I can’t talk about what happened in here.” His eyebrows motioned toward the cameras in the corner of the room. “But you have to believe me.”
I swallowed. I’d watched the incessant news coverage. It didn’t look good. Two weeks ago, Joaquín’s commanding officer, Paul Thompson, had thrown a huge party for his SEAL team at his in-laws’ oceanfront home in Encinitas. Witnesses interviewed by the police said they heard loud music and saw women coming in and out of the place. Guess the neighbors weren’t exactly going to call the cops on a group of SEALs.
In the early hours of the morning after the party, Joaquín had discovered a lifeless stripper named Tiffany in his bed. He called 911, and the paramedics said she’d been dead for hours. Joaquín told detectives that he’d slept with her the night before, but that she had been fine when he fell asleep. The police didn’t charge him immediately and waited for the autopsy results. Two days ago, the coroner ruled that she’d died from asphyxiation and had the date rape drug Rohypnol in her system. Since Joaquín had admitted to having sex with her, he had been arrested and charged with her murder.
He already said he didn’t kill her. He would never lie to me, and we kept no secrets from each other. Well. . . we never used to. I held my own deep secret close, never wanting to add any burden to Joaquín’s intense life.
“Can’t anyone clear you? Are the other guys in the team trying to help or did they desert you? What about Grant…” My voice trailed off.
My ex-boyfriend Grant Carrion, Joaquín’s swim buddy in BUD/S, had been there that night. And I knew the rest of the guys on their team pretty well. After our parents died, Joaquín had become my legal guardian and I’d moved to San Diego to finish my senior year in high school. I met Grant right before I graduated, and we started dating at the beginning of my freshman year at San Diego State. I’d transferred to San Francisco State as a junior two years ago because it had the best drama department. Well, that was the official excuse for me fleeing—I could’ve finished school in San Diego. The reality was much more painful. Too painful for me to think about, let alone deal with.
Joaquín pursed his lips, his eyes leveled on me. “Leave Grant out of this. I’m not going to ruin his career, too. I slept with Tiffany, but I didn’t kill or drug her. None of the guys are talking to me right now, probably under orders from the command. Our team doesn’t need this publicity, especially with all the rumors going around about Pat saving Annie from that brothel. My brothers don’t have a choice but to obey. My lawyer thinks I should take a plea. If it’s the best for the team, then I will.”
I seethed. The public should still be happy that Joaquín’s team just saved a group of USO cheerleaders who had been taken hostage in Afghanistan. I didn’t even know what to say about the Pat and Annie mess, except that I wasn’t buying the team’s cover story. “Take a plea? Have you lost your mind? You’re gonna confess to a murder because that’s best for your team? Who cares about your damn team—can’t you be selfish for once in your life?” I knew the bonds of these SEALs ran deep; they’d kill for each other; they’d die for each other. I couldn’t fathom the pain Joaquín had to be going through, but pleading guilty to a murder he didn’t commit was insane.
BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance Page 34