by S. M. Butler
SEALs of Summer 2
Military Romance Superbundle
Zoe York • Lynn Raye Harris • Sharon Hamilton • Kimberley Troutte • Jennifer Lowery • Elle Kennedy • Delilah Devlin • Elle James • Cora Seton • Anne Marsh
Boxed Set Contents
Fall Dark
by Zoe York
Hot SEAL
by Lynn Raye Harris
SEAL’s Heritage
by Sharon Hamilton
The Guardian
by Kimberley Troutte
A SEAL’s Duty
by Jennifer Lowery
The Strong, Silent Type
by Elle Kennedy
Her Next Breath
by Delilah Devlin
SEAL’s Defiance
by Elle James
A SEAL’S Chance
by Cora Seton
One Hot SEAL
by Anne Marsh
Fall Dark
a SEALS UNDONE novella
Zoe York
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Foreword
I named this series SEALs Undone because that’s exactly what happens. Big, tough Navy SEALs are undone by the women they fall hard for. These stories are light on conflict, big on romance, and short enough to read in a single night. Each story can be read on its own, and when you finish this one, there are six others to dive into!
A special thanks to Jessica A. for helping me figure out the Spanish translations.
About This Book
Until two weeks ago, Vince Nash was a Navy SEAL. Now he’s just a guy with a failing family business and a very specific skill set, and if he can get through a job interview at Camo Cay, he’ll be all set. But when he’s greeted on the island by beautiful Larkin White—sharpshooter, cynic, and Vince’s first love—he realizes his plan was missing one very important, very pissed-off woman.
Chapter One
‡
Most men wouldn’t get a hard-on if a beautiful woman pointed a gun at them. Vince Nash wasn’t most men.
“This is a strange welcome, but I like it,” he winked at the blonde in the bikini top and snug cut-off jean shorts calmly aiming a pistol at his head. From behind her shiny, oversized aviator sunglasses, he imagined she was having a hard time not being impressed by his cojones.
That’s how he said it in his head, with the emphasis and everything.
If there was one thing Vince had plenty of, it was ego. And muscles.
He was just coming off a kick-ass tour in the Middle East. He could admit he thought he was the bomb.
He flexed his pecs, making the dragon skull tattoo on his chest dance for the hot babe standing on Rik Amundson’s dock at Camo Cay, and thanked the blistering sun overhead for convincing him to strip down to his board shorts on the motorboat ride from Grand Bahama to the private island.
Hefting his ruck sack onto his shoulder, he walked up to her and gave her a blatant once-over as she lowered her weapon to her side, because he was on vacation and deserved a little fun. “You on the hiring committee? ’Cause I am happy to oblige you in any way I can.”
Four days of sun, fun, and job negotiations just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
“Seriously, Nash? Are you still using that line?” The blonde tipped her oversized glasses onto her head and Vince tripped over his cocky swagger.
“Larken.” As in Larken White. Ex-army, ex-sniper training partner, ex-girlfriend.
“Yep.”
“Thank you for not shooting me.”
“It was a real toss-up there.” The woman he hadn’t seen in more than a dozen years slowly slid her own gaze down his body, then back up again. “It would be a shame to mess up such a fine specimen of douchebaggery.”
He grimaced and nodded. “Okay, I deserve that.”
“Of course you do. I fucking deserved tops marksman, you asshole.” She whirled around, shoved her pistol into her shoulder harness, and stomped off toward the modern glass estate house rising above the greenery separating the beach from the island’s buildings.
So she still hadn’t forgiven him for outshooting her that day.
Good to know.
It was like time had stood still, and he hadn’t spent the last eleven years, eleven months and two weeks as a Navy SEAL. He was still a nineteen-year-old punk ogling Larken’s ass and wondering if he’d ever be good enough to tap that.
Turns out, the answer was not anymore.
Clearing his throat, he followed her up the path. The job interview he badly needed to ace just got a bit more challenging.
*
Larken was going to kill her boss.
Then she was going to kill Vince Nash for sauntering into her good thing and fucking up her chill vibe.
As she stomped into the foyer of the main house, Calli St. James, her boss’s wife, glanced up from where she was arranging flowers on a pedestal table. “Is our guest here?”
Larken swallowed the dozen curse words that sprang to the tip of her tongue, because Calli was cool. “Yep.”
“I’ll go get Rik, if you want—”
“Actually, can I go get him?” Larken jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the door she’d just slammed in Vince’s face. “That guy looks like he spent too much time baking in the sun on the boat ride over. He’ll need some of your lemonade and lovely bedside manner.”
Calli narrowed her eyes, not missing a beat. “What’s going on?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“I will punish you at poker tonight for lying to me,” Calli called as Larken stormed through the oversized living room and down the hallway to the command center.
The truth was Calli would win anyway, and Larken would—eventually—tell the other woman why she was all out of sorts.
Eventually.
Once she stopped feeling like the world was spinning too fast in the wrong direction.
Jackson Sutter, one of Rik’s first hires—a big, strapping Texan—was coming out of the secure room as she neared the end of the hall, so she didn’t bother to punch in her code, she just whipped past him. Which made Trent McTavish, their tech wizard and ex-British SAS commando, spin around in his chair as a red light went off above the door.
“Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Back up and punch in your code.”
“Can it, you red-headed freak. I’m leaving in a second.”
From across the room, Rik Amundson laughed and stood up. “Larken, we have rules for a reason. Is it so hard to follow them?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m not in the United States Army any longer. And why you hired me for your United Nations of Bad-assery Brigade here.”
“You look…pissed, as my beautiful wife would say.”
Larken narrowed her eyes. Her boss was half-Norwegian, but the other half was American, just like her, and he’d been speaking English since day one. Why was he sliding under his ever-so-slight Nordic accent and pretending not to know the word for just how irate she really was?
“You invited Vince Nash to Camo Cay,” she seethed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We’re getting busier. And not just with security details. We need someone with his skills. Just like I needed someone with yours.”
Larken licked her lips. She’d been adrift when Amundson had offered her the sniper job. Unlike her male counterparts, there weren’t a ton of easy security jobs out there for her.
Impotent rage swelled in he
r chest. Why was she having this reaction?
“Is it possible that you’re overreacting a bit?”
Larken looked around for something she could throw at her boss’s head.
She never claimed to have great career sense.
Instead, she settled for a quiet growl as she crossed her arms. “I want him gone.”
“This is not a democratic organization. I want him here.”
“We won’t work well together.”
He lifted one eyebrow blandly.
She stomped her foot. “You’re making me act like a toddler, Rik! Why won’t you hear me when I say this isn’t a good idea?”
“You’re making yourself act like a toddler. In front of Trent, no less.”
“I’m kind of used to it by now,” the stupid Scot snarked from the sidelines.
“I take it you know Mr. Nash?” Rik continued.
Larken hesitated. No, she didn’t. Not anymore. “When I knew him, he was ambitious and selfish.”
Rik just shrugged. “Ruthlessness is a virtue in our business.”
“So is loyalty.”
“Ahhh.” Rik stood and crossed his arms in an annoying mirror of her stance. “Well, then we shall test that in him. It’s one weekend. If you don’t want him to stay at the end, then you can veto. But for now…I want to meet the man that riles you up. I think I’m going to like him.”
“Of course you’re going to like him. He’s a brother-in-arms. You’ll drink vodka together and be best friends before you know it.”
“If I’m not mistaken, I think that’s how you and I become friends as well.” He nodded to the door. “Would you like to introduce me?”
“I may have told Calli that he was suffering from heatstroke. She’s probably tucked him into a sick bed by now.”
“No such luck,” her ex-boyfriend said from the doorway behind her.
She spun around and glared. “Out. You need a code to be in here.”
“I think we need to have a talk in private first. Deal with some of the history between us.” He winked, his ego firmly back in place. She was quite certain that by deal with, he meant re-enact with their tongues.
The last thing she wanted to do was kiss Vince again.
And now she sounded like the teenager she’d been the last time they’d made out.
She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was a grown-ass woman who could contain her displeasure at an ex’s reappearance in her life. Hooking her thumbs into the straps on her shoulder harness, she faked a nonchalance she hoped she’d actually feel sooner than later. “No need to deal, Vince. It’s all good. Rik wants you here, that’s fine by me. Did Calli offer you some lemonade? I’m thirsty.”
Ignoring Trent’s choking laugh behind her and Vince’s narrowed glare in front of her, she swept out of the room. Sometimes, retreat and re-org were the best options.
*
Vince dropped his swagger again as soon as Larken was gone.
“Rik,” he said, holding out his hand. He recognized the Norwegian from their initial video call interview the week before.
“Nice to meet you in person,” the mercenary said. They shook, then Rik introduced Trent McTavish.
“I understand you’re a recon specialist,” the Scotsman said, standing up. “And Larken hates your guts.”
Vince hesitated. He needed this job. He was also pretty sure he could convince Larken they should be friends again, given enough time. But step one in winning Larken over was protecting her secrets. “I’m your guy for recon, yes. And Larken and I are both professionals.”
Rik laughed. “Larken White is many things. A fantastic shot, a loyal team member, and a decent poker player. But she’s not particularly professional.”
Vince bristled, and he didn’t miss that the other man didn’t miss his reaction. Good. The sooner they did away with any idea that Vince wasn’t on Team Larken, the better it would be for everyone.
Because Vince wanted the job. A lot.
But he wanted Larken White even more. His mission for the weekend had just been adjusted. He glanced between the two other men. “Did someone say poker?”
Chapter Two
‡
Larken had changed out of her bikini top and tiny cut-off jean shorts.
She’d put on a dress.
Vince was so screwed. He wasn’t that great at cards to begin with. Add in the distraction of the world’s nicest breasts floating free and loose beneath a cotton sundress, and a teasingly mean smirk twisting the gorgeous set of lips just above them, and he was toast.
He hadn’t heard the rules of Camo Cay Poker Night the first two times she’d spelled them out. But what the heck, why not shoot for one more try. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
She rolled her eyes. They were alone at the round table that had appeared in the living room after dinner—a meal she’d skipped, or taken elsewhere. He’d taken the gift of undistracted time with his hosts to show Rik he understood how the geopolitical unrest impacted the private contractor jobs they’d be doing. As a Navy SEAL, he’d had regular briefings on all manner of situations most people had no clue about, because from time to time, he’d been asked to do the impossible. Gotta know your shit to deliver on that.
Rik wouldn’t be the first to ask Vince to sneak into a drug kingpin’s compound. Or an Italian billionaire’s penthouse apartment, a Russian oligarch’s fortress in the far north, or a Brazilian hotel playing host to a global weapons marketplace.
He was the first to offer perks like living on a private island paradise—which Vince couldn’t take him up on—and spending more time with Larken—which he would.
“…So you can ante in whatever you want, as long as it has value to you.”
Vince sighed. He’d missed the instructions a third time.
It wasn’t his fault. Her breasts were dizzying. Her scowl was distracting. And his mind was still trying to play catch up on the dinner conversation.
One week a month, give or take, and he’d make easily double his SEAL salary.
One week a month, give or take, he’d have a chance to escape his responsibilities and slowly chip away at the unfortunate history between him and Larken.
That would stand a better chance of working if he paid attention when she spoke.
He was rescued by the arrival of Trent, and the two other members of the team, Jackson Sutter, and Rik’s younger brother, Mats Amundson. They’d met at dinner, and he’d even shared a cigar with Jackson out on the back patio. Vince had just finished a tour of duty in northern Iraq with Jackson’s younger brother Jared, who was still an active SEAL.
The spec ops world was small.
So he wasn’t sure how the hell he’d been blindsided by Larken like this. Where the hell had she been? And why was she here?
Had she always been that damn beautiful?
Yeah, she had. But now there was an edge, a pissed-off vulnerability that was entirely his fault. But she hid it well.
“What are you guys putting in tonight?” Larken teased. Even though she’d been bitchy as hell earlier, it was clear that they were all close. Vince felt a stab of jealousy.
Jackson tossed a wad of bills onto a tray on the sideboard, next to the poker chips.
Mats slid a vintage Browning Hi-Power out of a holster on his hip and set it beside Jackson’s offering.
Trent pulled a pen out of his pocket and twirled it in the air.
“Tell me that’s not just a pen,” Mats said, his eyes lighting up.
“Not just a pen in the least, my friend.” Trent handed it over. “It’s a listening device. Depress the button and hold it against your ear.”
Mats did just that, then put it down immediately. “Come on, man. You could have warned me that Rik and Calli were acting like teenagers in the kitchen.”
Vince couldn’t hear anything, so that was interesting. The pen design was kind of James Bond-overkill, but on the other hand, equipment that could pass through commercial airport security was a bonus.
�
�How about you, Lark?” Jackson asked.
Lark? Vince fought not to react to the nickname.
She shrugged and held up her key.
The fuck?
“I’ll put in the west cottage for a week.”
“A week?” Trent shook his head. “I made that listening pen with my own hands.”
“And that Browning is in mint condition,” Mats protested.
Larken shrugged her slim, strong shoulders, making her breasts jiggle. “Take it or leave it, my friends.”
I’ll take it, Vince thought, but he knew he wasn’t thinking about what she was offering. What he wanted to take was definitely not on the table.
Trent kept protesting. “A week. For that, you should have to stay in the cottage, too. Make me breakfast each morning.”
Larken snorted. “You don’t want me to cook for you.”
“Well, no, but I can’t suggest anything else to sweeten the pot. I like my balls attached to my body.”
She arched one brow and offered a lazy smile to her co-worker. “Maybe I’ll make an exception for this week.”
Hell no, she wouldn’t. Vince ground his teeth together as Trent gave her a surprised look, then smirked. “Then absolutely. Cottage for a week. Larken included.”
Damn it. Now Vince had to win a fucking poker game.
*
“How about you, Nash?”
Larken turned away from the conversation as Jackson asked Vince what he was putting in for the game. After tossing her key on the tray, she took her time counting out her poker chips. Then she poured herself a glass of ice water.
Anything to distract herself from the warm purr of his voice.
His accent had changed. It was still there, but it wasn’t as round, as drawly. As in-your-face Southern boy. She could still hear the traces of Georgia, but he’d spent almost twelve years in California. Probably learned half a dozen languages. Had to become a chameleon.
And now he was getting out.
She couldn’t pretend to know him, not anymore, but she was surprised Vince wasn’t staying on the teams until retirement. He’d always been so driven, so intense.
