Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1)
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Covertly Strong
Copyright © 2014, N.A. Alcorn
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notice
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer
This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.
Cover Image: Scott Hoover Photography
Cover Model: JC Mason
Cover design: Melissa Gill - MG Book Covers & Designs
Editor: Mickey Reed- www.mickeyreedediting.com
Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Formats
Dedication
Irrational Premonitions? February 11th, 2014 0300 hours, San Diego, CA
Part One: The Beautiful Past
The First Moment, June 1st, 1998
She’s The One, August 14th, 1998
Young Love, September 8th, 1998
This Isn’t Goodbye, May 28th, 1999
The Lovely Letters
Unwilling Goodbyes & Shattered Hearts
Part Two: The Serendipitous Present
February 11th, 2014 1245 hours, Sloan’s Apartment San Diego, CA
1335 hours, Discreet Location Near San Diego Bay
1500 hours, Sloan’s Apartment
1900 hours
2000 hours, San Diego Conference Center
2045 hours
2100 hours
2200 hours
2300 hours, Gallagher’s Pub
February 12th 0130 hours, Cab Ride
0200 hours, Sloan’s Apartment
0800 hours
1030 hours, Nix’s Apartment
February 13th 1030 hours, Solana Beach, California
1600 hours
1800 hours, Sloan’s Apartment
1830 hours, Nix’s Apartment
2200 hours, Nix’s Bed
February 15th 1000 hours
1900 hours, Eric Church Concert
February 18th 1800 hours, Two Days Until Departure
February 19th 2000 hours, Ten Hours Until Departure
February 20th 0100 hours, Five Hours Until Departure
0600 hours, Departure Day
Part Three: The Covert Present
February 25th 1200 hours, Guadalajara, Mexico
February 28th 1700 hours
March 1st 1400 hours, San Salvador Hospital
March 5th 0900 hours
1000 hours, Dr. Mendez’s Office
March 6th 0100 hours
0800 hours
1300 hours, Dr. Mendez’s Office
1400 hours, Arturo Compound
March 7th 0800
March 8th, 1300 San Salvador Hospital
March 8th 1900
March 8th 2300
March 9th 0500, San Diego, California
March 9th 0600
March 9th 0700, San Diego, California
March 9th 1800
March 9th 2200
Part Four: The Distorted Present
March 10th 1300 hours, Arturo Compound
1400 hours
1600 hours
2200 hours
2359 hours, Hallucinations Take Over
Part Five: The Adrenaline-Pumping Present
March 11th 0000 hours, Discreet US Military Base Pueblo, Mexico
March 11th 0200 hours
0400 hours, Arturo Compound
0411 hours
0414 hours
0417 hours
0421 hours
Part Six: The Life-Changing Present
March 14th, Hospital in Galveston, Texas
March 24th
March 26th
March 27th 0845 hours
1000 hours
1400 hours
2200 hours
2359 hours
March 28th 0530, Homeward Bound
The Beautifully Gray Beginning
May 30th, Nix & Sloan’s Home, San Diego, CA
July 1st, Sloan’s Parents’ Home, San Diego, CA
Reader Exclusive
Note from the Author
Other Books
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to:
One distracting little four year old in a superhero cape named Sid, and his Miniature Schnauzer side-kick named Gus—also known as Batdog—who were no help in writing this book.
And to all of the heroic men and women of the United States Military. Thank you for all of your service and sacrifice.
God Bless America
HE REMEMBERS THAT IT HURT. God, it hurt to even look at her.
His clammy, sweat-soaked arms clutch at his chest as fragments of his nightmare drift away, his mind slowly clearing and coming back to the present. The room is illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, night still hovering in the sky. His heart pounds furiously within his chest, the frantic beating resonating inside his ears. His lungs wildly struggle for air.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
He fights to calm his anxious body as remnants of adrenaline continue to course through his blood stream. He focuses on reality—on the here and now—as his sleepy eyes work past the fog. Sweat creases his brow. His eyes blink several times until his vision is no longer blurred. Cerulean irises adjust to the darkness, aiding in his ability to understand that was all just a dream.
It was a fucking nightmare.
Years. It’s been years since he’s dreamed of her, since Sloan has fought her way back into his mind. Years since he’s been able to picture her face so vividly. His chest still aches from the devastation that consumed him during sleep, during the awful nightmare of seeing her lifeless body. She was dying. She was fucking dying and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it. All he could do was watch as her life unraveled thread by thread, helplessly witnessing her struggling to survive…
“FUCK!” he shouts into the silent room as his hands run roughly through his hair.
What in the hell brought this on?
That seemed like more than just a dream… It felt so real…
He pushes that nagging feeling away and chooses to ignore the thoughts of irrational premonitions—visions of what’s about to happen. Nixon West doesn’t believe in bullshit like this. He’s a goddamn SEAL for fuck’s sake. He’s a warrior. He doesn’t live his life following feelings or emotions. He thrives off facts. Off strategy. Off exact plans of action.
There is zero room for irrationality or intuitions.
His large, muscular form sits on the side of his bed, his sheets left in a tangled mess. His head rests in his hands as he strives to get his shit together—strives to ignore the overwhelming feelings that pierce his soul. Get it together, Nix. Get it the fuck together.
Now that his heart rate is under control and the unease of his nightmare has left his system, Nix lies back on his bed. He can’t stop his mind from reminiscing. He lets himself do something he hasn’t done in a very long time—think about her. He lets himself remember what they had—love. They had so much love, but for some fucking reason, she gave up.
She gave up on them. She gave up on everything.
Love. One word, four letters—such simplicity.
There isn’t a human being on the planet who can’t admit to having used that word at least once in their lives. It’s a mind-blowing concept to think that a word that holds such power—such untouchable meaning—is sometimes used in the most careless ways. A thousand pictures—a million words—could never adequately express the feelings, the emotions, the overwhelming sensations his love for her provided.
His love for her—for Sloan—could never be explained.
It could only be felt, tasted, held, touched, kissed, embraced…
True love isn’t found easily. No one wakes up one day and decides that today is the day they will find it. There isn’t a formula for finding the kind of love he and Sloan had—a love so rare and so pure. It’s not easily sought after, nor can it be held in the palm of the hand. True love is intangible, and once it’s found—once it’s felt inside the soul, possessing every single cell inside the body—the heart never wants to let it go.
And Nix’s heart has never really let go. It has never forgotten her.
But what happens when that kind of love is lost?
What happens to the person who has their one, true love ripped away?
He remembers what it felt like to lose her.
His world was shattered. His chest ached, and every breath that was needed to fill his lungs seemed nearly impossible to inhale. Nix knew that what they’d had was real when the pain didn’t fade and the scars never healed, and sometimes, he felt like death would have been an easier option than having to relive the nightmare that was losing her—his girl, his metaphorical world.
And he’s never really received closure when it comes to Sloan.
God, I miss her.
After all of this time—after all of the goddamn years that have passed—he still misses her. He hates that she still has that effect on him. The Sloan Effect. It’s been almost a decade and a half and he still finds himself wondering what could have been.
Where would they be if she hadn’t given up?
His fingers inch up to his chest, lightly tracing the inked letters above his heart.
His tattoo used to be a wonderful reminder of love, but now, it only signifies pain—a visible scar, a heartbreaking memory, a goddamn wound that will never heal.
“Goddamnit!” he growls through gritted teeth.
He is pissed off. His hands are practically trembling from the anger that is coursing through his body. He hates the fact that he had a nightmare about her. He hates that he just allowed his mind to take a trip down memory lane. And he hates that he still can’t bring himself to get rid of that fucking tattoo. Her tattoo. He’s tried—too many times to count—to change it, to erase it, to do anything to take her mark off his skin, but he just can’t. He can’t do it. And he finds himself wondering if he ever will find the strength—the fucking balls—to do it.
It’s been over fourteen years and the thought of her still makes him resort to the seventeen-year-old boy he used to be. The naïve boy who loved Sloan with everything he had.
Even now—over a decade later—she still owns his fucking heart.
He’s one of the United States military’s strongest warriors. He’s tracked down and killed some of the world’s worst criminals. He’s survived war. He’s seen his life flash before his eyes more times than he’d like to admit, yet all these years later, his traitorous heart is still pining away for her. A girl who gave up on him.
She fucking gave up and I still can’t let her go.
Will I ever be able to let her go?
THERE IS NO LOVE LIKE the first.
First love burrows itself inside the soul and possesses a part of the heart that can never be returned. It is irreplaceable. It is unforgettable. The first time someone falls in love, it changes them—leaving an eternal mark on their innocent heart. The feelings, the emotions, the everlasting transformations of first love never go away.
Nix and Sloan were each other’s first love.
They loved with an intensity that ran so deep that it stuck with them for the rest of their lives. The beginning of their story is beautiful. The innocence and emotional depth they shared for each other are what most people search their entire lives for.
They had it all.
They had everything.
They found the true meaning of living within each other.
The moment Nixon West laid eyes on Sloan Walker, he just knew she would be the one girl to steal his heart—she would be his game changer. And she was. She changed him forever. Her mark, her love—her entire being—were ingrained into his brain, his heart, his soul, his sense of self. Their love sparked. Ignited. It was an inferno that had the strength to burn for eternity.
But sometimes the true magic of first love is being so naïve to think that it will never end…
And unfortunately for Nix and Sloan, life got in their way and tore everything to shreds.
SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD SLOAN WALKER SAT in the passenger’s seat of her friend Stephanie’s Jeep as they headed down the road towards their destination. Today was supposed to be a day of fun, sun, and a chance to party alongside her fellow students at McKinley High, but melancholy overcame her. Despite the fact that she was on her way to the big beginning-of-summer bash at Diamond Head Beach, she felt alone, adrift—just entirely lost. Her brain was not in the carefree-summer mood like everyone else. She had zero desire to hang out with the kids from her class because, honestly, she barely knew them.
Sloan’s life was different. She always felt like an outcast.
Yes, she felt fortunate to have found someone as sweet and kind as Stephanie Munn, but she was tired of constantly having to find new friends. Her family had only been in Honolulu, Hawaii, for a few short months. The Walkers had recently relocated from San Diego to Camp Smith Naval Air Station at the beginning of spring during Sloan’s sophomore year of high school—barely enough time to make new friends or get settled into a new routine. Barely enough time to do much anything but grin, bear it, and survive.
Survival—that was a recurrent theme in Sloan’s life. Not in a desperate kind of way, but in a ‘she can never have a normal life so just deal with it’ kind of way.
The fact that her father was a well-decorated Navy admiral made it inevitable that her family would continuously move from naval base to naval base—too damn frequent in her opinion. As soon as Sloan would get settled into a new school and meet new friends, her father would be transferred again. It was one hell of a vicious cycle, but it had become the reality of her young life. This was the horrible part of having a father who prided himself on his naval career. Yes, she was endlessly proud of him, but the constant moving was exhausting. She was tired of never feeling settled.
Teenage girls need stability, and although her mother and father provided her with a very loving and unwavering home life, every other aspect of her life felt as if it were in constant disarray. Any moment, John Walker could get the call, and Sloan’s family would yet again be shipping out to another town, a different city—sometimes, a foreign country. At the age of sixteen, she had already traveled all over the continental US and across the globe to countries like Russia, Costa Rica, South Africa, Canada… The list was endless.
But that was her life.
And all she could do was try to make the best of things.
“Hey! Earth to Sloan!” Stephanie teased, pulling Sloan from her scattered thoughts and never-ending ‘woe is me’ inner monologue.
Stephanie parked her Jeep a few blocks from the beach and proceeded to hop out of the driver’s seat as Sloan’
s eyes took in the arrival of other kids in her class. Girls were dressed in bikini tops and jean shorts. Guys were wearing board shorts and flip-flops. Carefree, excited expressions etched on their young, naïve faces.
“Come on, Sloan!” Stephanie said excitedly as she opened the passenger’s side door and grabbed her pink-polka-dotted beach bag from the backseat. “Take that depressing look off your face and get your cute butt out of my Jeep! We have a whole day of swimming, laughing, and watching hot guys with tight butts surf,” she added with a wink.
A small giggle escaped Sloan’s lips as she watched Stephanie bounce around on her tiptoes in elation. “Okay,” she responded with a slightly annoyed sigh. “But only if you promise to stop jumping around like a crazy lady.” A rueful smile turned the corners of her pink, pouty lips.
Stephanie laughed loudly and motioned for her to get moving.
The two girls hiked their way down the steep bluffs until they reached the sand. They laid their beach towels out by several other girls in their class. As Stephanie made friendly conversation with a few of their classmates, Sloan watched three guys in the distance enthusiastically riding the waves of the aquamarine ocean. Their boards sliced through the water with tenacity, leaving it white and bubbling at the surface. She was mesmerized, observing the lean, muscular lines of their bodies as they moved with precision.
But only one guy in particular stood out. His wet, brown hair was brushed back from his face and a fierce expression encompassed his entire demeanor. Her brown eyes couldn’t pull themselves away. He called to her like a beacon—pulling her entire awareness, stealing every aspect of her focus.
After a momentary look in the handsome surfer’s direction, Sloan found herself standing up in the sand and walking towards the edge of the ocean. Her toes inched into the lukewarm water as rippled waves flowed towards her. Her eyes and nose crinkled from the strength of the Hawaiian sun as her petite hand attempted to block the intense brightness from her face.
She decided to throw caution to the wind. She pushed away all of the stress and endless uncertainty that came with being the daughter of a high-commanding Navy admiral. In that moment, she was just Sloan. The beautiful girl who was spontaneous and fierce and had a fire that burned behind her big, brown eyes.