by J. M. Madden
“That was hard to listen to,” Amberly whispered, “because I know I did the same thing.”
He turned, finding her standing behind him, arms crossed over her stomach. “Yes,” he agreed simply. “And that hurts.”
Tears filled her siver-gray eyes, and she rubbed them away with her fingers. “I’m sorry, Devlin. So very sorry.”
Tears started to drip down her cheeks, and Dev had to move. Amberly wasn’t a crier, no matter what. “It’s okay, babe. I didn’t love them the way I love you.”
That made her cry harder. “Why would you tell me that? You’re basically saying, if you love me you can hurt me.”
“No,” he said, chuckling softly. “I love you, and I realize that sometimes in relationships, one person gets hurt, but because they love the other person, they’re willing to forgive and try again.”
Her tears fell harder, and she sobbed, burrowing into his chest. They held each other for a long time, until Dev drew back to wipe her face. “I love you, Amberly Jade Temple. And I want you to know that I will always love you, no matter what.”
“And I will you, too,” she vowed. “I should have had more faith in you last time, but I didn’t, and I’m truly sorry about that. I listened to what my head was screaming, when I should have been listening to what my heart was whispering.”
He smiled down at her. “Thank you for that. And now I’m going to have some faith in you.” Reaching into his pocket, he bent down on one knee, pulling out a stunning solitaire ring. “Amberly Jade Temple, I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. Would you be willing to marry this devil again?”
Laughing, she kneeled down in front of him. “Yes, happily. And here’s my show of faith. Let’s go to Gatlinburg and do it today.”
Devlin laughed, taken off guard. “Seriously?”
Amberly nodded. “Completely. Let’s go.”
So, seven hours later, after pulling some serious strings, they were married in front of the Justice of the Peace in Sevierville, Tennessee.
Moon Devil couldn’t have been happier.
Epilogue
Three weeks later, Devlin was still feeling a little salty with himself. Maybe he’d been too harsh with Gravy. If they had presented him with the same evidence about another teammate, it would have been hard to argue with.
Maybe he would call the guys once things settled down, and see about getting together…
If the CIA was good at anything, it was manipulating people and situations to suit the agency. They wanted him to take the fall for the hit, and he did. And even though they’d apologized, he had a feeling they would do it again if the situation arose.
Amberly had gone back to work a few days ago, and he was feeling her absence. They’d talked about what they were going to do going forward. Since Dev’s business was small, he was thinking about restarting up there or something. He didn’t want to be in the thick of government, but he would go up to be with her. Amberly had more time invested in the agency, and he knew she wanted to retire from there.
Hell, since they’d paid him his back pay he wasn’t necessarily hurting for money. Maybe he’d see if Cliff wanted to buy the business or something. It was easy enough to start a new one. Once again, though, he would be leaving his friends behind.
They would just have to come down here for vacations. Perhaps they could keep the cabin, since they were going to be a two income family now…
Moon Devil.
He chuckled as he looked down at the text.
Hello, Charley. I’m not Moon Devil anymore. Didn’t you hear? I’m officially out of the Navy, Honorable Discharge.
I did hear, and congratulations on your nuptials.
Thank you.
I never thanked you, officially, for everything you did. I had to go out of country suddenly, and I lost track of a few things.
No worries. You don’t owe me any excuse.
There was a pause for a few minutes, then she came back. I do, actually. And I made you a promise. If you check your bank account, you’ll see I followed through.
Dev sighed, sitting back against the truck seat. He’d come to work today, for the first time in weeks, and he was already missing Amberly. I don’t feel like I should take money for taking him out. I kind of feel like I was doing my civic duty.
Well, granted, you were, but the money was a small price to pay. Besides, diapers are expensive.
A deep, swelling pride swallowed him, and he grinned. Heard about that too, huh? We just found out.
I did. Congratulations, again. I wish you a safe, wonderful life, Devlin Kreed.
Thanks, Charley. You too! Don’t call me again. Lol!
Also by JM Madden
If you love dogs and would like to read about a concierge service helping military personnel out of difficult spots, check out:
Healing Home
Wicked Healing
Healing Hope
If you like a paranormal twist to your military, check out the Dogs of War! (If you love Christine Feehan’s Ghost Walkers you should enjoy this series!)
Genesis-Free
Chaos
Destruction
Retribution
Catalyst
If you would like to read a Navy SEAL book with older characters, check out
SEAL Hard
Flat Line
If you would like to read about the ‘combat modified’ veterans of the Lost and Found Investigative Service, check out these books:
The Embattled Road ( FREE prequel)
Duncan, John and Chad
Embattled Hearts-Book 1 (FREE)
John and Shannon
Embattled Minds-Book 2
Zeke and Ember
Embattled Home-Book 3
Chad and Lora
Embattled SEAL- Book 4
Harper and Cat
Embattled Ever After- Book 5
Duncan and Alex
Her Forever Hero- Grif
Grif and Kendall
SEAL’s Lost Dream-Flynn
Flynn and Willow
SEAL’s Christmas Dream
Flynn and Willow
Unbreakable SEAL- Max
Max and Lacey
Embattled Christmas
Reclaiming The SEAL
Gabe and Julie
Loving Lilly
Diego and Lilly
Her Secret Wish
Rachel and Dean
Wish Upon a SEAL (Kindle World)
Drake and Izzy
Mistletoe Mischief
Cass and Roger
Lost and Found Pieces
The Lowells of Honeywell, Texas
Forget Me Not
Untying his Not
Naughty by Nature
Trying the Knot
Other books by J.M. Madden
A Touch of Fae
Second Time Around
A Needful Heart
Wet Dream
Love on the Line
The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession
The Awakening Society- FREE
Tempt Me
If you’d like to connect with me on social media and keep updated on my releases, try these links:
✔www.jmmadden.com
✔My FB Like page- https://www.facebook.com/JMMadden58
✔Follow me on Twitter-- @authorjmmadden
✔Sign up for my Newsletter if you haven’t already. You get 4 free books!
✔Follow me on Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/jm_madden_58/
✔The Lost and Found Series Discussion Group-https://www.facebook.com/groups/433871413415527
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OR you can email me at [email protected]
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Thank you so much!
JM
Shadow SEALs
The Shadow SEALs series is a continuing military romance series by some of the ho
ttest military authors writing today!
Continue the series now!
SHADOW SEAL SERIES
Shadow Pawnby Cat Johnson (June 8)
Shadow Assassin by Elle James (June 29)
Shadow in the Desert by Becca Jameson (July 20)
Shadow in the Mountain by KaLyn Cooper (Aug 10)
Shadow of a Chance by Donna Michaels (Aug 31)
Shadow of the Moon by J.M. Madden (Sep 21)
Shadow of the Heart by Sharon Hamilton (Oct 12)
Shadow Defender by Desiree Holt (Jan 4)
Not by Shadow by Elaine Levine (Jan 25)
Cast in Shadow by Abbie Zanders (Feb 15)
And now for a peek at the next book! Shadow of the Heart by Sharon Hamilton
Chapter 1
Maggie’s red hair dangled defiantly off the side of the bed, just as her deep rose lips inhaled the lifegiving oxygen of her fiercely feminine side, her chest rising and falling to the command of her breath. She was a woman of contrasts, her sweet sleep disguising the fiery soul filled with stubborn “No’s” just like the first time she’d told him “No” and he knew he’d wait forever for her to change her mind.
Forever. It would only be a long time if he lived that long, another thing he didn’t expect.
Brady was her devoted servant, marked, scarred, and tatted to the extreme, like most the other brothers on his SEAL Team, but his heart was branded with the invisible M he carried deep inside. If they opened him up some day when his warrior days were over, they’d see that M emblazoned on his still cold heart, a fire letter to be sure, complete with its own energy field unextinguished by death no matter how much they carved up his carcass. That M would remain, just as his love for this woman would never end.
A man of few words and little expectations, he never saw himself falling in love, to imagine a life with a soft goddess at his side, someone to take his mind off the wars he’d fought and the battles he’d struggled and won, inside as well as outside his huge well-toned cyborg of a body. He was a man-killing, dangerous sort of beast who might eat a vanquished man’s heart in a macabre victory celebration like his Viking ancestors, if the Navy hadn’t injected some human decency and mental body armor to quell his self-destructive side. Before Maggie, all he sought was a good death.
He wanted to ride her body again, the two of them alone, streaking across a dessert plain in perfect sync, her flawless peachy skin abundantly held like precious treasure in his gnarled and twisted fingers, that smooth flesh ripe and ready to be tasted, squeezed and then smoothed over with his sandpaper palms. Every time they made love, he was her conquering hero, come to fully enjoy the fruits of their love, his reward for removing the battle armor and allowing just one person in the whole universe to enter and see the real man inside.
There would only be one Maggie, one woman. First there was none, and then in a miracle, there was one, but only one.
She loved with stubborn determination to keep up with him, to embrace the throne he’d created for her, his warrior princess to rule over all time, long after his ashes were thrown into the sea. She would rule over all the hearts of heaven after his death, and she would never cease to be. She would defy death itself.
With one large claw he spread his fingers over her bulging right breast, then arched her back beneath her shoulder blades with that one hand, serving her up to his hungry mouth. He placed his belly against hers, as his lips and tongue violated her nipple, waking her to arousal, his warrior maiden, while he felt the rumble of her moan all the way down to his root.
She’d told him many times that just his look upon her created a clothing malfunction of epic proportions. Those quick and urgent dashes to any platform where he could ram himself inside her sweet channel and ride her hard until they both lay exhausted were the highlights of his days and dreams.
She flirted around the edge of her orgasm as he coaxed her, whispered things to her he could feel back in the sudden rapid beat of her heart. When he whispered, “Dear sweet Beloved, I am yours,” he meant it from every cell of his body. He wanted her to shelter and grow inside her tender belly his sons and beautiful daughters to share the seasons of life with, to send him to Valhalla a happy man. He fucked with the art of legacy, the possibility of miracles and the future he never deserved.
Maggie’s form turned, her smile became seared in his memory, her eyes fixed on him, and then fixed on the wall behind him as he moved his head to the side to indulge a tender kiss to her long fragrant neck.
That’s when it started to change. The little serpent of regret began to coil in his belly in a flash before her image dissipated into a cloudy peach mirage, expanding until the form was lost. His rod throbbed from unfulfilled passion, and he groped the bed sheets. Sweat poured down the ridge in his back along his spinal column.
“No!” he screamed to her. Then in his silent, lover’s voice, “Don’t go. Stay with me, Maggie. Just a little while longer. I can bring you back. Return to me, my Beloved.”
But it was no use. The bright morning had turned cold. The only heat remained was in his groin, his forehead, and, yes, the M emblazoned on his heart. He could hear the hiss as the brand seared deeper into his chest cavity.
Exhausted and unrequited, he fell onto his backside, opening his eyes at the wooden ceiling of his hideaway in the foothills of Northern California, knowing he was even more dangerous than before.
Brady waited until his breath became normal, refusing to do one of the mind control techniques the Navy doctors had taught him. He even refused to do the poses and meditation his yoga master lovingly demonstrated. His thoughts were filled with torching his bed with a flamethrower, and in one sweeping stroke, eliminating the source of pain: the bed that no longer smelled of Maggie. It was the same mattress they’d worshiped their bodies on in San Diego for a whole glorious year, before the events that took her away from him forever.
Tate, former Master Chief Brady Roger’s huge black Doberman, came to the bedroom, stopped at the doorway and sat, with a small howl like he’d located a cactus needle in his butt. The dog was his protector now, government issue, but the one thing he was given after his nearly dishonorable discharge that he held onto. If he was being honest, clung to.
“Fuck, Tate. I’m okay. Just another goddamned dream. And no, she’s not coming back. But fuckit, I sure tried this time. I got real close.”
Tate angled his head as if in full comprehension. That little nod of the head, the quiet way he respectfully approached his master, full of concern only a canine could have for a fucked up human being such as Brady, he thought, was his lifeline now.
That and the CBD he was growing in his garden.
“Come here, boy,” he commanded the dog, who dutifully jumped on the bed and took up the space beside him, his paws pushing on Brady’s stomach and thigh, smarting a bit. He was sure it was Tate’s way of showing that, contrary to what Brady thought, the old SEAL was the owner, but Tate was the owner’s master.
Brady scratched around Tate’s ears as the hundred-pound dog lay his snout on Brady’s chest.
“Another day in paradise, right, Tate?” he said to the dog, who licked his hand when he briefly stopped the ear scratching. “You got any plans today, boy?”
The dog placed his snout back on Brady’s chest.
“Me neither. Just another fuckin’ day. Maybe we’ll check our little grow down by the creek, see if we can shoot a trespasser, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Brady laughed. He hadn’t caught one yet. A trespasser, that is. He’d caught lots of unsuspecting dear and even a wild boar trying to rut his way through his grow and paid for it with his life. He was a tasty motherfucker, Brady ruminated. Tate enjoyed some ribs even though he wasn’t supposed to have them, served raw for his own protection. He devoured the bones as fast as the mulberries he liked to eat off the old tree that had fallen over during one of the storms and refused to quit bearing fruit while laying on its side.
But the truth was, he was it
ching to kill someone. He was going to have to wait until he got the opportunity. After all, the man was still a Naval officer.
Brady lurched up out of bed, even scaring Tate, heading for the shower to get rid of his giz-soaked shorts and sticky groin area. He was disgusted as he tugged at the wet cotton embellished with red, white, and blue stars—another habit he’d procured from the Navy that was hard to break.
Tate sat on the shorts without comment, watching Brady shower, waiting for his turn to have his needs met. Minutes later, he was rewarded with fresh bison and beef with some kibble and allowed outside to wander for a private spot to privy. Brady took his coffee with him, sat on the back deck and surveyed his little plot of serenity—if that was the right word for it. Because there was no real serenity present. He hadn’t stopped drinking, smoking shit, or going overboard on the CBD oil. All these things both blew up and helped his nightmares. His hands were steadier, and his shot was truer now. He was able to do math, calculating stress loads and angles in his bridge building endeavors, creating creekside trails for his cultivation out of prying eyes, which was a complete lie now with the drones the Sheriff and Special Agents used these days. But still, he fantasized he was still nearly off the grid, even in this age of facial recognition and God-knew what chips they must have inserted into him during his active days, he wiped the worry out of his head with the pleasant thought they knew he’d enjoy taking target practice on anyone who came wanting to fuck with him no matter who they were or who sent them. There was only one person he’d ever allow to live who could cross his log-hewn bridge with the boobytraps laced all around. And she was dead.
