by Trish Loye
Seal for Hire
A Silver SEALs Novel
Trish Loye
Tough Girl Press
Copyright © 2019 by Trish Loye
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, incidents, and places is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9959678-7-8
Created with Vellum
For my Sisters,
Michelle, Krista, and Sherry
You guys have always been there for me.
Contents
SEAL For Hire
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
Also by Trish Loye
A Word from the Author
Also in the Silver SEAL Books
SEAL at Sunrise
Chapter One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
SEAL For Hire
He was hired to hunt her down.
Former Navy SEAL Commander Ryan Marchetti hates the fancy consulting job he’s taken after retirement from the Teams. So when the Assistant Director of the DHS offers him a contract to hunt down an assassin, he leaps at the chance, even if it means hunting down his former lover. He must focus on the mission and ignore Sutton McRaven’s sharp wit and way-too-sexy body, and bring the only woman he’s ever loved to justice.
* * *
She wasn’t ready to be caught.
CIA Agent Sutton McRaven found the life she’d always wanted in the CIA, one filled with adventure, and doing what’s best for the country she loves. But after her best friend dies, she finds herself anchorless and longing for a home. When she receives a mysterious call, Sutton investigates, only to discover another friend murdered, and all evidence marking her as the killer. She needs to stay free to clear her name and find justice, but Ryan Marchetti, a man used to tracking high profile targets has set his sights on her. Sutton must use all her knowledge to escape and evade the man who’d once captured, and then rejected, her heart.
* * *
But only together would they survive.
As Ryan closes in on Sutton, the real killer is still free, and Sutton’s the next target. The chase becomes darker and deadlier, with stakes higher than either could have predicted. Stalked by a ruthless killer, the two must learn to trust each other, or end up dying alone.
* * *
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1
Sutton McRaven laid a single white rose on her friend’s grave. It had been a month since she’d stood here and witnessed them lower the casket into the ground.
I’m so sorry, Anna.
Logically, it hadn’t been her fault Anna had died. Being a CIA agent in the Special Operations Group carried huge risks. But even so, the shock of a mission going so horribly wrong had struck Sutton to her core. And on top of that, Sutton hadn’t listened to her instinct about Anna and the mission. Something had felt off. Anna had seemed too preoccupied, and now...
She stared at the tombstone, remembering how they’d found Anna’s body the next day. The evidence of the torture Anna had been through clear in the bruises and blood left on her.
Guilt, grief, rage. They whirled through her like a maelstrom of shrapnel, the sharp edges slicing into her each time she thought of her friend. And the last time she’d seen her alive.
Sutton closed her eyes. Maybe she should have stayed on leave longer.
Footsteps swished through the grass to the left of her. She glanced over to see her sister walking up to her. Amelia looked like their mother, with her dark, good looks, while Sutton’s dirty-blonde hair and pale gray-green eyes came from the father who had taken off before she could remember him. Thankfully, Amelia’s father had been a better man.
Sutton looked up, avoiding her sister’s concerned frown. The gray sky overhead mirrored Sutton’s mood this morning. She scanned her surroundings. The cemetery was mostly empty except for an elderly woman a few rows over, and a man in dark clothes just on the edge of her peripheral vision.
Her sister coughed to draw her attention. “So how long will you be here this time?”
The resignation in her sister’s voice pulled at her. Sutton was the older sister. She’d always looked out for Amelia. She should be looking out for her now. “I’m sticking around for a while.”
“Are you? Because your niece misses you.”
Sutton almost smiled. “How is Sophie?”
Amelia did smile, and with it her wary mask lifted, revealing the beautiful mother underneath. “She’s decided she wants to be a race car driver.”
“I thought she wanted to be a rock star?”
Amelia shrugged and gave the only explanation she could. “She’s six.” Amelia stared at the headstone with her. “You were out of touch for a month,” she said. “Where’d you go? I was worried.”
Sutton sighed. It had been foolish to leave. “I went to Costa Rica.” She waved toward the grave. “Anna once told me I had to go, that it was a photographer’s dream.” Anna had always encouraged Sutton’s hobby. “It seemed like a good place to get away. I...I needed time to get my head straight.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “No wonder I couldn’t track you down. And did it work? Is your head straight?”
Sutton sighed and then gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Let’s just say it’s a work in progress.”
The wind sent a chill through Sutton and blew a strand of her blonde hair into her face. She tucked it behind her ear. She watched the old lady lay a hand on the tombstone in front of her. The man had disappeared from view. Sutton shifted slightly to keep track of him as he moved slowly through the graves with his head down.
“I truly am sorry about your friend,” Amelia whispered.
“So am I, Mel.” She could hear the sorrow weighing down her voice, like body armor in a river crossing; it dragged at her, threatening to take her under.
“Are you really sticking around?” Amelia asked.
“I am. My team is on an indefinite hiatus until Anna’s death has been fully investigated.”
“Investigated?” Amelia’s voice held a wary note. She worked as a DC police detective and was never really off the job.
“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Sutton said. “But they have to make sure that she wasn’t killed because of a mistake on our side.”
Amelia nodded. “I understand. Why don’t you come for dinner on Sunday. Five o’clock. Don’t be late.” Her sister gave her a quick hug. “And don’t vanish off the face of the earth again, or I’ll kick your ass.” She headed back to her car.
Sutton smiled. Her sister hadn’t quite forgiven her for disappearing yet, but she would.
The elderly woman had left a carnation on the grave and was winding her way back to the road. The man in the dark coat had stopped just behind a tree. The spot between her shoulder blades itched.
She obeyed the itch and sta
rted to walk.
She strolled back toward the road, aiming closer to where the man stood hidden by the tree. She kept her gaze forward though she strained her peripheral vision, looking for movement. Nothing. Just the wind through the trees, the sea of headstones, and her.
Her muscles tightened and she forced them to relax.
Steady. Just keep walking. Her hand drifted to her shoulder holster under her leather jacket.
It was more of a feeling than a sound that made her whirl. The man’s hand reached for her, and then her gun pointed right at his forehead. Brown hair, balding. A mustache that needed trimming. She took in the details automatically even as another part of her assessed him for danger and decided he was lacking.
“What the fuck do you want?” she asked, her voice cold, sharp, lethal.
He slowly raised his hands as if he were held at gunpoint every day and it didn’t bother him. “Sutton McRaven?”
His smirk made her want to pull the trigger. “Who’s asking?”
He slowly, with two fingers, pulled his overcoat aside. “My ID is in my pants pocket. I’m going to slowly—”
“Yes. Yes.” She could see by his tight pants and protruding belly that no gun hid there. “Just get it out.”
He huffed and grabbed a slim black wallet, which he flipped open. “Agent Costa from the Cyber Intelligence Unit.”
She almost rolled her eyes but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Why the fuck is a CIA agent stalking me?”
He shoved his wallet away. “You mind getting that thing out of my face?”
She wanted to push it right up against his nose. Why did this guy set her off so bad? She’d been jumpy since Anna—
She lowered her weapon but didn’t put it away. “Explain.”
“I wasn’t stalking you.” The patience in his tone held a passive-aggressive edge. “Edworthy’s looking for you. If anyone sees you, then we’re supposed to let you know.”
She narrowed her eyes. Something didn’t feel right. “And you just happened to be here in the cemetery?”
“Paranoid much?” He sighed when she didn’t say anything. “I was visiting my mother’s grave. It’s her birthday.”
Shame washed over her. She slid her weapon away. Maybe she needed a longer break. Maybe it was too early to come back. Could she trust herself yet?
Costa gave a small headshake like a disappointed parent. “Call your boss.” He strode off.
Fuck. That had gone well. She ran a hand through her hair. Maybe it wasn’t so bad she’d pulled a weapon on a fellow agent. She hardly ever worked directly with cyber intelligence anyway. Tony always handled that stuff. Thank God.
She dug her cell out of her pocket. A quick glance confirmed Costa walking toward his sedan, his cell at his ear, probably complaining to someone about her. Damn.
She dialed a number from memory.
“McRaven, this had better be you.” Edworthy’s voice was a snarl caught in a bull dog’s growl. The man’s bite was worse, but he’d been her boss and mentor for years. There weren’t many people she respected, but he was one of them.
“Hey, Frank. Good to hear from you too.”
The man said a stream of curse words that made even her wince. “Would it kill you to check in like you’re supposed to?”
“I’m checking in now.” She made it to her car just as the first droplets started to fall from the gray sky. Anna had loved the rain. Sutton glanced back once to the headstone she’d come to visit. A hollowness ate through her chest.
“Are you listening to me?” Edworthy demanded.
“Of course,” Sutton lied. “Just tell me again what you said.”
“Get your ass into work,” he said. “We’ve got a traitor to find.”
She stiffened. “Traitor?”
“There’s a leak. You need to get your ass in here first thing tomorrow. Your leave is cancelled.”
“Copy that. I’ll be there.”
“How many people have you killed?”
The question, asked by a man with jowls and an overly expensive suit, threw Ryan Marchetti off his introductory speech about leadership. As a retired Navy SEAL commander, Ryan rarely got thrown off his game. But he’d barely introduced himself when this moron had interrupted.
“I was speaking about leadership,” Ryan said patiently, though he wanted to squeeze the man’s neck until his eyes bulged. “You may ask questions later, but not that one.”
“Why not that one?” the man interrupted again. A touch of arrogance coated the man’s tone like a sheen of oil coating a blade. If it wasn’t for that arrogance, Ryan might have had the patience to explain how that question affected soldiers, how it brought up memories they’d rather keep buried, how it shut them down unless they felt they were in a safe place.
But this guy just pissed Ryan off.
“Because it’s rude.” He turned to the rest of the people the high-end management consulting firm had deemed worthy of being taught leadership skills. Half of the twenty or so people looked eager to hear from him; the other half were on their phones or tablets. He spoke to the eager ones; perhaps he could get through to them.
“Everyone’s heard the phrase, ‘Natural Born Leader,’ right?” he continued his speech. He got a few nods. Good enough. “Well, it’s a bullshit phrase. Everyone learns to be a leader. Some learn when they’re a kid, but others can and do learn when they’re adults. Leadership is a skill. And like any other skill, it can be taught.” Though some people picked it up better than others. But he decided not to say that. It all depended on how much the person learning put into it.
Two of the tablet crew set down their devices to listen. He was getting through.
“That’s the military way, isn’t it?” the asshole with the jowls said. “I can’t ask a question because you don’t want me to? That’s what’s bullshit. You guys just give orders and your men have to follow them.” He leaned back in his chair. “But it doesn’t work like that in the real world.”
The real world. Ryan stared at the asshole. This man in his fancy suit and expensive shoes wouldn’t know the real world if it kicked him in the face, which was what Ryan wanted to do.
He could see some of the man’s coworkers grimace and one even edged away from the asshole, but Ryan knew that if he didn’t handle this man right here and now, he’d lose the whole room.
He was forty-seven and too old to deal with this petty, school-yard shit.
When he’d retired two years ago Ryan had stupidly thought he’d live quietly in his beach house like Yoda or something. Within a month, he’d gone stir-crazy and started searching for something to do. He’d tried to be a manager at a large company but he’d found that incredibly boring. He’d even thought about re-enlisting when a friend from the navy had approached him about joining his leadership consulting firm. He’d signed on and wasn’t bored...but he wasn’t happy either.
There was always an asshole who had to try to take him down. Why couldn’t these guys just sit and listen? Why did they feel the need to prove themselves the top dog?
Ryan sighed. “What is it you really want? Do you want me to lose my cool and shout that you’re the one who’s never seen the real world? That until you’ve faced death you don’t have the right to ask that question?” He shrugged. “Everyone lives their life differently. I try not to judge. Because I look at you and I see a small, petty man who doesn’t take care of himself, who puts others down to make himself feel better, someone without discipline, and who puts the priority of making money over the rest of his small, petty life.” He crossed his arms. If he flexed just a bit, could anyone blame him? “Am I wrong?”
The asshole’s face went red and he shoved his chair back to stand. “I don’t have to take this.” He marched out of the conference room.
Ryan studied the rest of the people in the room. No one spoke. But more importantly, no one moved to follow the man.
“Everyone in this room is at the top of their game in their profession,” he said.
“But you’re here because you can be more. I can teach you that if you want to learn.”
He liked teaching, he decided, by the end of the day. Even if there were assholes in the class. Most of the people in the one-day course wanted to hear what he had to say. But teaching didn’t fulfill him. Not like being a SEAL had.
He gathered his materials as the students left the conference room, some of them nodding at him; a few even came up and spoke to him, thanking him. Could he be happy with doing just this for the rest of his life?
The thought discouraged him more than it should. His life had fallen into a rut without him even realizing it. He taught. He went home. He worked on the next project given to him. There was no joy, no rush, no feeling at all.
How fucking depressing.
He’d made it to the elevators before she made her move. She, being the petite, curvy, and too-young-for-him brunette who’d been watching him too intently all day. He knew her kind.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you have a moment?” Her voice was low and beckoned him to think dirty thoughts.
Was she a tag chaser or a frog hog? The first being a woman who liked any man in a uniform, or did she like SEALs in particular?
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” He kept his tone professional.
She licked her lips. “Well, I had a few more questions and I wondered if we could get a drink somewhere and discuss them?”
At one point in his life, he would have jumped all over that offer. She was beautiful, sexy, and obviously smart if she worked at this firm. But something about her left him cold.
