by S. M. Butler
“Yes. No one will ever have her unless it’s me.”
“Is that why you brought a gun with you tonight? To make sure no one else has Reganne but you?”
Carsen’s eyes narrowed, shooting hatred at Grey. “Yes. I’ll never let her be with anyone else. Not you. Not that resident. No one.”
“Whatever it takes, huh?”
Carsen seethed. “Yes. Whatever the hell it takes.”
Squad lights flashed outside, announcing the arrival of the police. Grey let go of Carsen and stepped back as footsteps pounded on the stairs.
“Freeze,” one of the officers said. “Both of you on your knees, hands behind your heads.”
Grey immediately dropped. “Gonna be a little hard for him. I secured him for you.”
“And you are?”
“Greyson Stone, U.S. Navy. This man tried to kill us. The gun is under the bed and his confession is on the phone in my pocket.”
Carsen’s eyes flew to his, wide and accusing, then realization that Grey had been recording their entire conversation.
One of the cops handcuffed Carsen while the other dug the phone out of Grey’s pocket and recovered the gun. He played the recording for a minute, then turned it off. He held out a hand to shake Grey’s.
He rose to his feet and accepted the officer’s handshake. “Thanks, officer.”
“We’re going to need you and Miss McCain to come down to the station and make a statement.”
Grey nodded.
He followed them down, Carsen barking the entire time about suing them for excessive force. Reganne ran to him when she saw him and he wrapped his arms around her. She trembled against him, refusing to look at Carsen as the officers led him out to the squad car.
Once they drove away he held her tighter and said against the top of her head, “It’s over. You’re safe now.”
Chapter Eleven
‡
Six Weeks Later
Reganne opened the windows, drawing in a deep breath as salty ocean air filled her lungs. It had taken some time, but she now slept with her windows open. Knowing Carsen would spend the rest of his life in prison on numerous charges made it easier. Thanks to Grey. He’d got Carsen to confess and recorded the whole thing. He knew how to play into the man’s ego and it worked. Not even Carsen’s expensive lawyer could stop him from going away.
They had given their statements and returned home just hours before Grey had to leave. She and Grey had spent the time in bed, making love. And when he had to leave she kissed him goodbye, telling him she’d be here when he returned. It wasn’t a vow of love like she wanted, but she didn’t want to spook him off. Or mess up his training. He’d kissed her as if he’d never see her again and walked out the door.
Work kept her busy, her mind occupied for the most part, but she missed him like crazy. Missed his grin, the way he made her laugh. Darci and Cloe kept tabs on her, making sure she wasn’t alone for long. They took her out to dinner, came over with take-out from Demarco’s—often with one or two of the Demarco sisters in tow—and insisted she eat. Reganne told them she was fine, that she and Grey weren’t married or even officially dating, but they would have none of it. Not that she minded. In fact, she’d grown close to them and enjoyed their company.
A knock on the door drew her attention. Probably Darci with the dessert she’d promised to bring over. Reganne walked to the door and opened it. But it wasn’t Darci standing on her porch.
“Grey.” She threw herself in his arms. He lifted her off her feet, kissing her. “You’re home.”
He carried her inside and kicked the door closed. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want this to be my home. Or you can move into mine. Whatever you want. All I know is that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much.”
Happiness flowed through her. She hadn’t expected him to be home so soon and certainly hadn’t expected a declaration of love. Although she’d wanted it so badly.
“You love me?” She smiled.
“I do. Ever since I first laid eyes on you at Tag’s party. You make me a better person. You give me a reason to come home.”
“Well, sailor, this is your lucky day because I have loved you since Darci first pointed you out to me. You make me laugh and feel like a complete woman again.”
“So is that a yes? You’ll marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?”
“Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Greyson Stone.”
He swung her around and she laughed, happier than she’d ever thought possible.
When he slid her down his body she cupped his face. “Guess what I bought?” she said with a wicked smile.
“I love you.” Grey carried her upstairs so they could start their life together.
The End
Catch up on the first SEAL Team Alpha novella, A SEAL’s Song—Jack and Darci’s story is available now! And sign up for my newsletter to receive a heads up when the next SEAL Team Alpha novella comes out.
Other Books by Jennifer Lowery
SEAL Team Alpha Series:
A SEAL’s Song
A SEAL for Christmas
Wolff Securities Series:
Maximum Risk
ATCOM Series:
The Maze
Sawyer Sisters Trilogy
Hard To Handle
Onyx Group Series:
Hard Core
Other:
Murphy’s Law
Taking Chances (short story)
About the Author
NY Times & USA Today bestselling author, Jennifer Lowery grew up reading romance novels in the back of her math book and on the bus to school, and never wanted to be anything but a writer. Her summers were spent sitting at the kitchen table with her sisters spinning tales of romance and intrigue and always with a tall glass of ice tea at their side.
Today, Jennifer is living that dream and she couldn’t be happier to share her passion with her readers. She loves everything there is about romance. Her stories feature alpha heroes who meet their match with strong, independent heroines. She believes that happily ever after is only the beginning of her stories. And the road to that happy ending is paved with action, adventure, and romance. As her characters find out when they face danger, overcome fears, and are forced to look deep within themselves to discover love.
Jennifer lives in Michigan with her husband and two children. When she isn’t writing she enjoys reading and spending time with her family.
Author Website | Facebook | Twitter | Romance Recipes | Jennifer’s Newsletter | Jennifer’s Street Team
The Strong, Silent Type
An East Coast 8 Prequel
Elle Kennedy
Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter
About This Book
Resistance is futile…
Ever since he lost the love of his life, Senior Chief Shane Heron has vowed to protect his heart, the same way he protects his teammates in the field. When it comes to women, short-term affairs are all he has to offer, and it’s a strategy that’s worked well—until a fiery redhead blazes into his life and decides to break all his rules.
One look at the sinfully sexy Shane, and Jill Marshall is determined to coax the intense SEAL out of his shell. Casual relationships are nothing new to her, but temporary isn’t going to cut it this time. Not with Shane, who sets her body on fire with one smoldering look. But as the stubborn man continues to fight their growing connection, there’s only one item on Jill’s agenda—break down Shane’s defenses…by any seductive means necessary.
Chapter One
‡
In his fifteen years in the navy, Shane Heron had experienced some seriously nasty stuff. Hell Week. Life-threatening ops. A two-month stint in a Korean prisoner camp.
But having dinner with strangers? He could honestly say that freaked him out more than any grisly thing he’d ever seen or done.
&nb
sp; Small talk was his enemy, followed closely by faking smiles and pretending to be interested in topics like mortgages, marriage, and the weather—all agonizing no matter what order you put them in. If he could’ve holed himself up in his hotel room for the duration of this San Diego trip, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t been able to say no when Lieutenant Carson Scott had asked him to stop by for dinner. It was the enlisted soldier in him—you never turn down a request from an officer.
So here he was, standing on the doorstep of a beautiful bungalow in Coronado, dressed in the nicest jeans and plaid shirt he owned, and playing the part of courteous guest by bringing along a bottle of Merlot.
The bright blue front door swung open two seconds after he’d rung the bell, revealing a tiny pixie of a woman with dark hair and green eyes. She greeted him with a delighted smile.
“Hi! You must be Senior Chief Heron! Do you want me to call you Senior Chief or can I just call you Shane? Or is it Shawn? Carson just referred to you as Senior, but that sounds weird to me.”
Her rapid-fire words made his head spin. “Uh. Shane is fine, ma’am.”
Those catlike eyes twinkled. “It’s Holly. And I’m not even thirty, so if you call me ma’am one more time, I’ll punch you.”
“Babe, did you just threaten a United States Navy SEAL?” A blond man appeared in the doorway, towering at least ten inches over the little brunette.
Shane gave an inward sigh of relief when he recognized Carson. They’d chatted at the base earlier after their teams had run a joint training demo, and he genuinely liked the other man. Not necessarily enough to subject himself to two hours of dinner-party torture, but he’d already made his bed, and now he had to lie in the damn thing.
“He knows I’m joking,” Holly protested. “Right, Shane?”
“Right, ma—Holly.”
“We’re glad you could make it.” Carson extended his hand.
“Lieutenant.” Shane leaned in for the handshake. “Thanks for having me.”
“Cut it out with that Lieutenant shit,” Carson said with a grin. “We’re off duty. It’s just Carson and Shane tonight.”
He nodded, though they both knew a SEAL was never off duty. The phone could ring at any moment, and they’d be wheels-up before Carson’s lovely wife could say “who wants seconds?”
Shane followed the couple inside, finding himself sandwiched between them as they headed for a doorway to their left.
“You should’ve warned me he was so handsome,” Holly told her husband. “If I’d known, I totally would’ve talked him up more to Jill.”
“You never asked,” Carson answered. “You’re right, though, Jill will eat him up.”
Um. Okay. Did they not realize he was squished between them during this very obvious discussion about him?
He cleared his throat. “I’m standing right here. You know that, right?”
“No, Shane, we thought you were gone,” Holly said sarcastically. She lingered in the doorframe, looking him up and down. “Your eyes are the darkest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. They’re gorgeous.”
Discomfort crawled up his throat, especially when he glanced over at Carson and noticed that not only was the other man completely unfazed about his wife checking out another man, he too was studying Shane’s “gorgeous” eyes with interest.
“Thank you?” Shane said awkwardly.
“Come on, I want to introduce you to Garrett and Shelby,” Carson said, taking pity on him. “You’ll love ’em.”
Hell in a hand basket. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, and things were already off to a very strange start. Shane made a mental note to respectfully decline any future invitations from the Scotts.
In the living room, he encountered another couple—John Garrett, a dark-haired former SEAL, and his wife Shelby, a pretty woman with sun-kissed blonde hair. The pair was friendly enough, and Shane made an effort to lower his guard as he chatted with Carson and the couple while Holly darted out of the room to check on dinner.
Making new friends wasn’t his strongest suit. Truth was, Alana had been his best friend, and she was all he’d ever needed.
The memory of his wife brought a lump to his throat, which he quickly had to choke back before the sadness took root. Two years had passed since Alana’s death, but he was nowhere close to putting it behind him. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would.
“So, Shane’s team got their asses kicked in the demo today,” Carson cheerfully told Garrett as the men cranked open their beer bottles.
“We were the terrorists,” Shane objected. “The good guys always win in training demos.”
“Nuh-uh.” Garrett looked smug. “The year Carson and I got assigned as tangos, we annihilated the good guys.”
“It’s true,” Carson confirmed. He sighed at his friend. “What’ll it take to convince you to come out of retirement, bro? Cash? A blowjob? Fine—I’ll full-on fuck you.”
Garrett’s wife broke out in laughter. “Keep your slutty hands off my husband, Carson.”
The blond man wiggled his eyebrows enticingly. “I didn’t say you couldn’t join in…”
“Tempting, but…” Shelby shrugged. “I think I want John around while we raise our daughter.” She shot Carson a pointed look. “You should consider it yourself—you’ve got a bun in the oven too now.”
Shane glanced at the other man. “You’re having a kid?”
The joy streaking across Carson’s face was impossible to miss. “Yep. Holly’s due in the spring.”
“Congratulations.” But the lump had returned, lodged in Shane’s throat like a rock.
He remembered having the same conversation with Alana—what they’d do when they started a family, if she’d leave her teaching position at the high school, if he’d leave the navy and work in the private sector. Moot points, all of them. Because a family hadn’t been in the cards for them.
Neither had marriage.
No, that wasn’t true. Shane swallowed his bitterness, refusing to fall into that old self-pity trap. He and Alana had spent eleven amazing years together. Some people weren’t as lucky, a reminder he clung to whenever the feeling of resentment arose.
Fortunately, the topic of babies was sidelined as Holly waltzed back into the living room.
With a goddess in tow.
Shane’s breath hitched when his gaze collided with the newcomer. Christ. Goddess really was the only fucking word to describe her. She was tall and curvy, the sexy combination emphasized by her skinny jeans and low-cut tank top. Hair the color of burnished copper fell over one shoulder in long waves, and her eyes were so vividly green it was like being back in the jungle again, amidst the lush foliage and thick vines.
When one perfectly shaped eyebrow cocked up at him, Shane realized he was staring, and he forcibly shifted his gaze to Holly, who gestured to the stunning redhead.
“Shane, this is Jillian Marshall. She manages the restaurant where I work. Jill, this is Shane Heron, one of Carson’s comrades from the east coast. And you know Shelby and Garrett.”
“Good to see you guys again.” Jill stepped forward to give Shelby a quick hug. A moment later, those mesmerizing green eyes sought out Shane again. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” he said gruffly, sticking out his hand.
The second their palms touched, a shiver rolled through his body, but he covered it up with a brisk cough.
He didn’t miss the knowing glimmer that crossed her expression before she turned back to her friend. “So this is my unofficial tour guide, huh?”
Shane blinked in alarm.
“Confession,” Holly told him with a hasty laugh.
Oh crap. What was the damned pixie woman up to?
“We had an ulterior motive in inviting you tonight,” Holly admitted. “Jill’s moving to Virginia next week—Norfolk, actually—and she needs someone to give her the scoop about the city. Carson and I figured that since you live there, you could fill her in on all the
local hot spots and that kind of stuff.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”
“Awesome. I totally owe you one,” Jill said, looking delighted. “My brain was starting to hurt from reading all those Trip Advisor reviews.” She clapped her hands together. “C’mon, keep me company in the kitchen while I make myself a drink.”
Shane didn’t have a chance to object—the woman had grabbed his hand and was practically dragging him away.
As he heard Carson’s faint chuckle from behind them, the man’s words from earlier buzzed into his brain.
Jill will eat him up.
Christ. As appealing as that sounded now that he’d met the woman, Shane sincerely hoped she wasn’t looking for a hook-up. He was leaving town tomorrow, and even if he weren’t, he didn’t do one-night stands with women he knew, or women who were friends with people he knew—either option led to headaches he wanted to avoid, the potential for sides to be taken and people to get pissed.
Granted, he didn’t know Carson and Holly very well, but Jill was still their friend and he was still a guest in their home, which meant that no matter how hot the woman was, he was implementing a strict hands-off policy tonight.
Could anyone say yummy?
Jill Marshall certainly could. And she was saying it quite a lot in her head as she openly checked out her friend’s dinner guest. Shane Heron. Jeez—even his name was sexy, the cherry sitting on top of the most delicious-looking muscle sundae she’d ever come across.
Holly had left all the necessary ingredients for margaritas on the counter, and Jill went over to the work island in the middle of the kitchen, trying not to drool over Shane Heron’s rock-hard body. As she reached for the bottle of tequila, she noticed him watching her with a dry expression.
“You know,” he remarked, “normally when you’re invited to a dinner party, you’re not expected to prepare your own drinks.”
