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CHAPTER 1

CARSON

Dust kicked up around us as we advanced. I loved being surrounded by my battle buddies. Being a SEAL was all I ever wanted. Professionally anyway. I didn’t talk about the other thing. I tried my best not to even think about it—about him.

Fucking Roman Ott and the way only he could make me feel. He lived in my head rent-free. I tried evicting him, but every time I thought I had it whipped, something dredged him back up.

I shook my head, reminding myself that achieving your dreams required dedication and sacrifice, and becoming a SEAL had always been my dream. I get to live it every day. Serving and fighting alongside my brothers was better than I could’ve ever imagined.

At least, it was until my team’s last mission went belly up. A basic breach and snatch op—something we’d done a blue zillion times. Shoulda been a cakewalk. But everything went to fucking shit.

Adam DuBois, Alpha Team’s number two guy, and I had been on overwatch while the rest of our team prepared to blow the doors off the building our target package was hiding in. Thinking back on that night, I should’ve known something was up. I even said it. The words played on repeat in my head…

“Alpha Six, check in,”

“All clear, Alpha Two. Too clear. Over.”

“Roger that, Alpha Six…”

“ All clear. Too clear.”

That should’ve been my clue. I should’ve checked on him after he’d radioed for a check in. But I didn’t. I kept my scope moving over my AO.

“Roger that, Alpha Six…”

Those were Adam’s last words before gunshots rang out, and the assailants took him prisoner. It had to be a setup. Not a first by any means. Informants and locals frequently became double agents, and it was obvious someone had warned them, as the target site was empty.

We had done everything short of begging the brass to let us pursue Adam after we learned of his capture, but they refused. Their response couldn’t have been any worse.

Also, not something I’d ever forget.

“TOC, please advise Alpha Two’s current heading.”

“Negative, Alpha One. Gather intel and RTB.”

That return to base order burned, but nowhere near like the order we got when we walked onto base, missing one of our own.

The base wasn’t much more than a command center and some barracks, with a few outlying buildings for the armory and mess hall. Our chopper spun sideways, the pilot putting the side doors parallel with the command center before landing. Commander Mercer stood with his feet spread, arms crossed, and dark sunglasses blocking out the early morning light from the sun rising over the horizon. Even from this distance, you could see the scowl painted on his face.

We charged toward Mercer as soon as our feet hit the ground. Brock threw his helmet and pack to the ground. Realizing his intent, I stepped in front of him. Luckily, both Finlay and James did as well, cause I was no match for the man. Brock towered over me with at least thirty pounds on me.

“Come on, big guy, don’t do this. Last thing Adam or any of us needs is you getting thrown in the brig for putting a beat down on the Commander,” I said.

He pushed against me, but I held my ground until he growled, snatched his gear up, and stalked off. Sighing, I turned back to Foster and Mercer. Foster was trying his damnedest to keep his cool, but he quickly was losing the battle.

“I’m going to get my guy. I don’t give a damn if you write me up for dereliction, conduct unbecoming, or whatever else you can come up with, but I’m fucking going after him.”

“No. You’re not.”

“Mercer…”

“Foster, I wish I could say yes because I would strap on my gear and go with you. But this order came from above. I have no options here.”

“They can’t expect us to sit here on our fucking asses…”

“No. They’ve ordered you home. They don’t feel Alpha Team is deployable, considering.”

Foster got in Mercer’s face, cursing at Mercer until he was blue. Mama would’ve said he called him everything but a milk cow, and he did. Clark Griswald hadn’t been half as creative with his insults as Foster was with his.

The whole situation—being stood down, then being sent home—disgusted me. And I realized that if it was hard on me, it must have been worse for him. Being Foster Holt, serving as Alpha One and as an officer, had to be much worse because his loyalties were divided.

At least I, guessed so.

I mean, the man led us, trained us, and took care of us when needed, but he was also an officer.

A couple of hours later, the order home had us marching onto a transport plane back to the States. We sat spinning on our thumbs in Vah Beach for weeks, waiting for the green light to go get Adam. Those days were extremely enlightening.

Leaving Adam behind grated on all of us, but no one more so than Brock. He spiraled after Adam’s capture. None of us handled it well, but Brock took it especially hard. I knew they were close—they’d met in boot camp and had been attached at the hip since, but this was something fucking extra. Then it all came out. Or rather, Brock came out to us. I think he believed we would turn on him and if the brass ever discovered that we knew Brock was gay and had said nothing, we would all be in a fucking heap, but none of us would ever rat them out.

Foster held his arm up, fist closed in a silent signal to a halt, and we all slowed to a stop. Evan Davis and Peter Nichols, the two guys from Charlie Team who’d tracked Adam back here, came forward.

Davis said, “We need to breach. When we first got here, they shoved him in one of those metal crates outside. Then, that armored car rolled into the compound. Fifteen minutes later, a couple of guys came out, pulled Adam out of the crate, and dragged him into the main building. The sounds coming from inside... Well, let’s just say, my nuts shriveled up a little, and they made me miss my dirtbag mother. I didn’t think anything could ever do that.”

I inched into place to scope out the target in the valley below us. A large, one-story stone building stood in the middle of a walled compound, with various vehicles and a few outbuildings scattered throughout the open space. Looking closer, there also appeared to be several large dog crates grouped together.

I stared at the building where my teammate was supposedly being held. Behind me, Alpha Team leader Foster Holt and Charlie Team leader Mattox Drummond divvied us up into breaching teams. They kept us with our teammates as much as possible, so I got put with Brock and Foster, Alpha Team’s number one and three.

As the order to move out came, I fell in line behind Brock, but Foster looked at me, then motioned me ahead. It was unusual for me to be in the lead, especially when Alpha One and Three were my partners. Throwing off the questions about the change, I did as Foster told me and led us toward the building, keeping to the shadows.

We made it to our breaching point. I rigged the blasting tape to blow, then nodded to Foster.

He pressed his mic button and reported, “Alpha One is in place and set,” his voice echoing around me and in my head.

The rest of the breaching teams checked in, and we waited for the order.

Charlie One, Mattox Drummond’s voice sounded in my ear.

“EXECUTE! EXECUTE! EXECUTE!”

I pressed the detonator.

BOOM!

The wall collapsed. The blast rocked my body, jarring my teeth, and I bit my tongue. Blood filled my mouth. I swallowed the tangy copper warmth, but my mouth filled again, immediately.

I ignored the nasty turn the blood had my stomach doing and charged through the hole. I had shit to do.

Wasting no time, I lifted my M4 and scanned the dark corners for any threats. I blasted through the wall, then cleared the room before heading to the door. I glanced left, then right, but the sound of Adam’s screams came to us, and instead of following our planned route, I turned left instead of right.

Having breached the building’s opposite side, Mattox acknowledged my change of plans and took the right. With teams at the doors and teams going in opposite directions after coming in from the sides, we’d squeeze these fuckers like a zit until they popped.

I kept my ears tuned for Adam. I was sure as shit he was being held two rooms from our entry point. When we reached the first room, I glanced inside.

Empty hole.

I motioned to Foster and Brock to follow as I moved forward. I knew Foster would do a quick but more thorough sweep himself. My job was to do a quick assessment and keep us moving toward our mission objective.

At the next door, I paused, listening. A harsh, guttural voice shouted in Arabic.

Kill him!

The words turned my blood to ice, and all thought vanished—a kill order. I couldn’t be sure, but it had to be Adam. Laser focus took over, but I held myself steady, waiting for orders. I didn’t have to wait long.

Foster ordered, “Go!” from behind me.

I nodded, then yelled, “FLASH OUT!”

At the bang, I entered the room, my M4 at the ready. Several tangos turned toward us, raising the weapons slung over their bodies. I didn’t even blink. I squeezed the trigger. Rounds popped off from my weapon and from one next to me as we dropped the sumbitches where they stood.

When the last body dropped, I scanned the room. Foster stood next to me, but it was the sight before us that turned my already sick stomach.

Senior Chief Adam DuBois, Alpha Team’s number two, was as naked as the day he was born. Bruised, battered, bleeding from several gunshot wounds, and being held up by some fuckstick who had a knife to his throat. Rage blazed through me, setting a fire in my belly and awakening the redneck motherfucker I worked hard to keep shoved in a cage, so I didn’t end up in the brig.

I took up the guard position at the door, trusting Brock and Foster to handle the situation behind me. It’s not that I didn’t wanna help my brother. I did. But Adam was Brock’s and vice versa. All the looks and history I witnessed between them over the years slotted together, and I couldn’t believe the team never realized what their relationship really was.

Knowing how torn up Brock had been since Adam was taken prisoner, I knew we needed to shield him and keep anyone who wasn’t Alpha Team from entering this godforsaken room. Brock and Adam’s relationship could get outed if we didn’t. Retirement was still years away for both men. Getting outed would cut their service short, and that wasn’t fucking happening on my watch.

Looking at Adam, I wouldn’t be surprised if he went out on a medical discharge. The man was in bad fucking shape. I shook my head to expel the image playing out before me. I almost succeeded, but then Brock cried out.

“Medic!”

I craned my head, unable to help myself, and watched as Adam collapsed into Brock’s arms.

Approaching footsteps turned my attention back to the door. Brock’s anguish flooded the room, putting me in a chokehold. I clenched my teeth to push off his emotions and mine. I shifted my stance as Alex Madison, Alpha Team’s medic, rushed toward us. The rest of Alpha Team was hot on his heels.

The squeal of the AED echoed in the room, and everything stopped. My breath caught, my heart stalled. Every shock Alex sent into Adam dropped my heart closer and closer to my stomach, which was racing toward my feet.

I’d never lost a teammate. I knew there was a very real likelihood that it could happen. We were the tip of the motherfucking spear. We died. We fought, and we fucking died. It’s what we did. If we got out of this job alive, it was a miracle. If we got out with all our limbs, we were damn lucky.

Alpha Team hadn’t been so lucky. During the last mission before I transferred in on, they’d lost a guy and nearly lost their team leader, Moses. That transfer, even though I wanted it, had been hard for everyone. They were grieving their teammate and losing the team leader they loved, and there I was, taking someone’s place.

Another squelch from the AED and the room filled with Adam’s heartbeat. A collective sigh slid into the spaces between the electronic beeps and Brock’s cries. His relief filled the room as his booming voice carried and echoed.

Foster agreed, commanding, “Keep everyone out. No one gets through until I give the okay.”

“Roger that, Lieutenant,” I said. Finlay, James, and Eric’s voices mingled with mine as they did the same.

James and Eric dashed from the room while Finlay approached Adam. I kept my ass in the open doorway. I wasn’t a giant like Brock and Foster or even my brothers. Out of six boys, I was the only one under six feet tall, but what I lacked in height, I more than made up for in width. My mamaw called me short and stocky, so if a hole needed a door, I was your guy.

The whoop whoop of the chopper blades approached. Finlay helped Alex, Brock, and Foster moved Adam out of the building. I followed behind them to provide cover, just in case. With all the SEALs flooding out of the building, I didn’t think we’d have an issue, but I refused to leave their backs exposed.

The wind beat at me as I raced toward the bird when it touched down. We loaded Adam in, and Foster pressed Brock into the chopper with him, demanding updates. Brock waved at us as they lifted off, and we all stood there watching until the bird turned toward base. Relief flooded through me and my guts, which had been churning from the steady supply of blood I’d been swallowing, not to mention the smells from the room they’d held Adam in and his condition, heaved. Bending over, I tossed my fucking cookies like a goddamned rookie.

I wiped my mouth as I stood up, and my eyes met Foster’s. He didn’t say a thing. He arched a brow. I ignored him as I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to dislodge the sight of Adam in that room.

When I didn’t turn to walk back toward the building to help collect intel, Foster’s hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me.

“You okay?”

I nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it, so I said, “Yeah, Lieu. I’m good. Bit my tongue when we breached.”

He chuckled. Everyone in the teams knew I hated the smell and taste of blood. Bella was my nickname during my time at Green Team. I’d ridden a mission as a strap where a guy took a couple of rounds. Blood gushed everywhere. The sight had been bad enough, but then I’d taken a shot of the red stuff to the face. I gagged, and the lights dimmed.

“Get it checked out when we get back. I’m going to need you to step up with Two and Three out. Especially if we get deployed without them.”

Shock rocked me almost as much as the blast had.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’re a leader. When the time comes, you’re going to need the boost to help with your application.”

I wasn’t surprised he knew I had plans for the future.

“Brock will be back, though. They both will.”

“Most likely.” He looked around and my gaze followed. Everyone was well out of hearing range. He continued, “I’m going to recommend Brock get his shoulder issue dealt with when we get back to Vah Beach. He’s been nursing that shoulder forever. Adam will need him at home and, this way I can meet his needs and prevent Brock from exposing them while stressing out during ops.”

I nodded, still amazed at the change.

“Think you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely, Lieu.”

“Kid, when you are going to get it through your head? I don’t expect that shit all the time.”

“Probably around the same time you quit fucking calling me kid.”

“That would be easier if you didn’t look like you were still waiting for your nuts to drop.”

“Ooh! Good one, Foster. Hope you packed the burn cream. If not, Alex probably has some.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m funnier, but what’s better is I’m funnier than you.”

“Round up everyone, and let’s see if we can get to Germany before your bad jokes do me in.”

“Did you get an update already?” I asked.

“No, but there’s no way they’re treating him in-country. He’s too bad off.”

I started to reply, but he stalked off. As I watched him, I questioned my decision to pursue the warrant officer position I’d been looking into. I doubted I could be as cool-headed and focused as Foster always was. He was the epitome of an officer and a gentleman. He led us through this clusterfuck like he did it every day.

I was several years away from even having the time in service to apply, so there was time to decide. All I knew for sure was that if I took that path, I wanted to be like Foster Holt.

With a sigh, I turned back to the others, my head on other things. The position I wanted was there, but it felt wrong taking advantage of the situation. Concerns for Adam and Brock rattled around and questions about how things would work out for them plagued me. Their situation, while untenable, was better than the one I stepped into when I joined the Navy to be a SEAL.

Until the unmistakable sound of an RPG filled the air.

“RPG! Get down!”

Everyone in front of me ate sand while I spun on my heels, rifle up. Peering through the scope, I scanned the hillsides outside the compound. Shouts from my brothers sounded around me, but I tuned them out. I had to find the fucker who thought firing on my buddies and I was a-okay.

I spotted the sneaky motherfucker hidden in an outcropping. I rushed forward, my finger on the trigger, squeezing off rounds as I moved. They ate up the ground at the attacker’s feet. He ducked and dodged. I kept on his ass, raining hellfire down on him until he went down. Hard.

I scanned the area and lowered my rifle when no other threats were found.

Foster’s voice came over my comms.

“TOC, this is Alpha One. What’s the ETA on exfil?’’

“Five mikes, Alpha One.”

“Getcha shit together, boys! Our ride outta this hell hole is en route.”

That chopper couldn’t get here quick enough. I was over this shithole of a country, even though I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was back here eating sand again.