Morgan, Nicole - Sweet Affliction [Sweet Awakenings 4] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 1
Sweet Awakenings 4
Sweet Affliction
After spending years serving his country as a Navy SEAL, Commander Nick Slater is ready for retirement. Mercenaries hired to kill him ambush him, and his plans take a drastic turn.
AJ Harwood is facing one of the most difficult times of her life. A chance encounter with Nick Slater is the last thing she wants, yet she is thrust into his world and trapped in its surroundings.
AJ is Nick's only hope as he tries to find out who is out to kill him. With each passing day, more secrets are uncovered, and the reason behind the attack is revealed. Nick joins forces with his former teammates to find the person behind the high-priced hit put on all of their heads. As precious time ticks away, Nick and AJ are faced with the possibility that after finding each other, they may lose everything in an instant.
Note: 10% of the author royalties on this book will benefit nonprofit organizations dedicated to providing educational assistance and support grants to families of wounded and fallen United States Navy SEALs.
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 76,232 words
SWEET AFFLICTION
Sweet Awakenings 4
Nicole Morgan
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
SWEET AFFLICTION
Copyright © 2012 by Nicole Morgan
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-549-4
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Sweet Affliction by Nicole Morgan from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Nicole Morgan’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Morgan’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
www.SirenPublishing.com
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
This being the fourth book in my Navy SEALs series, I have learned a lot along the way about these men who so many look at as modern-day warriors. Navy SEALs are considered some of the most elite when it comes to our Special Operations Forces. Their training is rigorous, selective, and unforgiving in that only the most physically and mentally strong can survive and hope to graduate BUD/S to become a United States Navy SEAL.
Over the years I have met some wonderful individuals in my quest to learn more about the SEALs so I would be able to properly depict them in my stories. During this time I have been blessed to form friendships with some of them.
First and foremost I would like to dedicate this book, as well as the other three in this series, to Rob and Max. Without the guidance, support, and constant ear you two have provided me I do not think I would have a true appreciation or understanding for the men behind the Trident. So many times in today’s world with the constant media attention we can forget that our SEALs are not superheroes, but men. You two have been patient, kind, and understanding in my thirst for knowledge with not just the SEAL teams but with those who serve as a whole. I cannot begin to tell you both how much your time and friendship means to me. I am truly honored to know you both.
I would also like to say thank you to Sheri (the best #ToolKitFriend ever), Dave, and Toni. All three of you have been true friends in every sense of the word, and I thank you for standing by my side through thick and thin. And to my friend Kim, where would I be without you? Probably talking to myself, that’s where. Thank you for always being available through the good times and bad.
Lastly, 10% of the author royalties on this book will benefit nonprofit organizations dedicated to providing educational assistance and support grants to families of wounded and fallen United States Navy SEALs. So please enjoy this book, lose yourself in the story of Nick and AJ, knowing that some of the proceeds from your purchase of this book are being given back to those who have done so much for all of us.
SWEET AFFLICTION
Sweet Awakenings 4
NICOLE MORGAN
Copyright © 2012
Chapter 1
He dove in the water as bullets sprayed against the waves. Applying pressure to his side, he kicked and tried to achieve more distance than depth between him and the men firing at him. He swam under the boat and to the other side so they wouldn’t have a chance to hit him again. What the fuck had just happened? How had he gone from enjoying a cold beer with a former teammate to watching a trail of blood drip from his forehead and nearly two dozen men carrying an arsenal of weapons boarding the small yacht? He ignored the gut-wrenching realization that his friend of nearly twenty years was dead. The cold stare of shock in Tom’s face as he fell forward told him he was killed instantly. A single shot from a sniper had taken out a man who served his country for over twenty years while managing to live to tell about it.
The whizzing sound of bullets hitting the water was becoming more distant. Despite being hit he was still a strong swimmer. His training had saved his life more than once, and this time proved to be no different. If his bearings were right and he wasn’t disoriented from blood loss, he’d estimate that he was about two miles from shore. If he swam around the south peninsula of the island, that would put him far out of the sights of whomever the hell was shooting at him. It would mean at least a three-mile swim. With blood loss and
pain it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d survived worse than this before so he had no doubts that this time would be no different.
Exhausted and starting to feel light-headed, he tried not to panic. He had to remain focused. One thing he learned was that if he rested to float for even a moment he would tire even more so and never continue on. While he hoped the men firing at him assumed they were successful in their attempts to kill him as well, he couldn’t be too careful. They could be scouring the dark waters with a spotlight looking for any sign of him.
The shore was in his sights now. He kept on, kicking with everything that he had despite the burn in his muscles. If he was able to use his full strength it probably wouldn’t be so strenuous on him, but having to hold his side in an effort to diminish some of the pain left him somewhat handicapped.
When he was so close to the shore his kicks met with more sand than distance he finally rested, allowing the surf to carry him the rest of the way. His mouth filled with sand as his body swept up to the soft beach. He laid there for a moment, breathless and physically spent. The pain from his right side where the bullet hit was radiating to his arm, rendering it useless. It took all his will to use his other arm, the muscles still burning from his several-mile swim. He crawled farther up the beach, not wanting to chance the waves that carried him in to safety pulling him right back out again. There was a small opening against the cliff. It was only a few yards away but seemed to be so much farther.
He crawled to what would be his shelter for the night. Echoes of his BUD/S instructors shouting at him for being a pussy swam in his mind. He was a United States Navy SEAL for Christ’s sake. Well at least for another month until he retired, that is. He was trained to never give up. What would they tell him in training? Take off your girlie panties and swim like a man with your balls swaying free in the water. It was a dumb-ass analogy, but it served the purpose at the time when he’d heard it. He had survived BUD/S training and twenty years in Naval Special Warfare. A measly bullet wound in his right side wouldn’t be the death of him.
Somehow he managed to pull his shirt off. He couldn’t remember a time when he was this tired. Everything he’d ever experienced seemed like a drop in the bucket compared to this.
The events of the past several hours flashed through his head. He arrived in town by small plane to meet up with Tom who had just begun to celebrate his retirement. Living large on the open sea he had called it. They ate some steaks that Tom’s onboard cook had managed to charbroil to near perfection while enjoying a couple of cold Coronas. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He still had two days on his leave, so the two had planned to fish and do nothing much of anything else.
He shook his head as he replayed the events in his mind. None of it made sense. He was damn good at sensing danger. Hell, they both were. One minute they were laughing about some señorita who would hit on Tom every time he went to town, and the next the slow trail of crimson drew a line down his forehead, his eyes wide and surprised as they stared back at him.
“Fuck!”
Tom had given twenty-two years of his life to the navy. Why the hell did this have to happen a mere two weeks after his retirement? What in God’s name was going on?
Once again, playing everything back through his mind over and over, he kept looking for some sort of a sign. Something he may have missed. Still he could find nothing.
He had only known that type of surprise killing capable of three types of men—military, mercenaries, or the mob. None of those possibilities made any sense. Tom was a decorated war hero. He had saved countless lives in leading men on various missions. The military would have no reason to want him dead, except maybe the Taliban, but these men weren’t Taliban. He couldn’t see their faces behind their grease paint, but they moved much too disciplined to be a part of that sect. That ruled out his possibility of the mob as well. Aside from the cool, calculated methods of killing, they didn’t have the physical skill to move like a trained soldier.
That was it.
A trained soldier. These men moved like military, but something was off. A military force, even Special Forces for any country, would’ve been identifiable to him in one way or another, but they weren’t. These men were former military. Mercenaries, no doubt.
The question was, why would mercenaries be after Tom? His friend had led a clean, by-the-book military career, only killing when it was required and the only means necessary. Tom never stepped on toes or used anyone to his advantage. Everyone on the teams looked up to and respected him.
Those conclusions left him with only one possibility. These were foreign mercenaries, sent from another country to shut Tom up. Why would anyone want or need a former Navy SEAL dead when he was no longer a threat to them?
Something wasn’t adding up, and he was becoming more and more tired. The blood loss was taking its toll. He needed to get medical attention, get the bullet removed and get stitched up. He was surprised he hadn’t gone into shock yet. Adrenaline had no doubt kept him going. Pushing up with his one good arm he tried to steady himself to stand. He was nearly on his feet when he collapsed from fatigue. If he just closed his eyes for a few minutes then maybe it would reenergize him. At least he hoped it would. He knew if he stayed here any longer he would either die of blood loss or those men would find him to finish the job.
It was his last thought before he saw the barrel of a gun pointing down at him and his eyes closed.
Chapter 2
Rex reached in the cooler, his hand moving around in the ice to pull out three beers before handing two of them to Jack and Adam. All three twisted the caps off before taking a healthy swig. He knew they had all three turned into a bunch of sappy asses, but he didn’t care. He was damn happy with how his life had turned out. Adam and Jack seemed to be of like minds, too. Jack with his new son, JJ, and Adam with brand-new bride, Chelsea.
“Would you look at us? What a bunch of tough bad asses we are, huh?” Rex mocked them all.
“Speak for yourself, big guy. I am every bit as much of a bad ass as I used to be,” Adam answered.
Jack threw back his head in laughter. “Right, until Chelsea calls for you. Then it’s all, ‘what do you need, sugar.’ Yep, Mr. Bad Ass himself.”
“Says the man with the baby monitor attached to his waistband where he used to holster a gun.”
“Oh shit. He’s got you there, buddy. You’ve turned into one domesticated rebel.” Rex patted Jack’s shoulder.
Now in complete hysterics, Adam set down his beer, crouched down on his knees and pretended to aim an invisible gun. “Freeze, bucko. Jack Peyton here! International Dad Extraordinaire. Drop your weapon or I’ll spray you with baby powder.”
“Oh listen to the fucking comedians. You know damn well if my beautiful wife and handsome baby boy weren’t within shouting distance I’d kick both your asses to hell and back.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t want to get in trouble,” Rex added.
“Babe.” Jack’s wife Tamara stood in the patio doorway, smiling. “Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. Kick their asses. I’ll close the door so the others don’t hear.”
All three men laughed, but Rex shouted back to her before she could close the door. “Traitor!”
Jack set down his beer. “You heard the lady.” He made a joking attempt to put Adam in a headlock, and the two proceeded to take a few playful jabs at one another.
Rex could only grin at the two men who for years served as his brothers on the teams, but who had more importantly become his friends. Jack had always been his friend dating back to BUD/S class, but Adam was someone he met years later. He was a good guy to have on your side in an ugly firefight, and he never had a problem with him. Somehow though, Jack and Adam had clashed many times over the years. He could remember countless times the two had run into one another, and an argument always ensued. Hell, Adam always was a cocky son of a bitch, but when the going got tough there was no better man to have on your side.
“You two idiot
s look like Abbott and Costello.”
Both of the men stopped, looked at Rex, then at each other and then back at Rex again.
“Oh fuck.”
Rex ran down the deck stairs, both Adam and Jack hot on his tail in pursuit, Jack with a pitcher of lemonade and Adam carrying a bowl of potato salad.
“Rex! Get in here! Hurry!” Shelby shouted through the kitchen window.
All three men froze, but Rex had a sense of foreboding. His beautiful wife wasn’t yelling at them for roughhousing in the backyard. He knew her like he knew no other. Her voice sounded anxious.
In mere seconds all of them were entering the house to find out what was wrong. Each of them went to their wives and stood by their sides to find out what had them all looking so shocked. A sound from the television redirected Rex’s attention. He turned to see a live news report out of somewhere that appeared to be tropical.
“Local authorities have yet to release any motive behind the attacks, but it is thought to have been the work of terrorists trying to send a message to the United States,” a serious-looking blonde reported.
“What happened?” Jack asked.
Adam picked up the remote and turned up the volume.
“Constance, have they released the names of the Navy SEALs killed in the ambush?” a stocky male sitting behind a desk in some studio asked the field reporter.
Rex’s stomach churned at the man’s question. More of his brothers had fallen, and by the hands of terrorists. Mother fuckers! When would this madness end? It was times like this that he wished he was still in. A quick side-glance toward his wife, and he knew she all but heard his thoughts. He took her hand in his to reassure her he wasn’t going anywhere before redirecting his attention back to the television.