by Casey Hagen
Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Stoker Aces Production, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Special Forces: Operation Alpha remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Stoker Aces Production, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Table of Contents
Shielding Nebraska
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Shielding Nebraska
A Fierce Protectors Novella
Casey Hagen
Hagen Novels, LLC
KENNEBUNK, MAINE
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Slyder Ward wanted to fill his two week leave from the Navy SEALS with sun, sand, cold drinks, and a hot woman. Before he has the chance to do more than crack open his first beer, his recently retired, long-time SEAL brother solicits his help with a famous client who needs protection from an elusive stalker.
Nebraska NightRaven is still paying for her part at Standing Rock during the Keystone Pipeline protests the previous year. Growing up in a neighboring reservation before making a career in Hollywood, the events at Standing Rock demanded she use her fame to draw attention to the danger and abuse there. It also left her with a career teetering on the edge of oblivion as she tried to manage the ever-increasing threats and honor her contracts. Now, with the Keystone Pipeline oil spill in South Dakota hitting the news, the threats have increased in an effort to keep her silent.
Sparks fly and motives clash from the first minute Slyder and Nebraska get within arm’s length of each other. As near as Slyder can tell the hellcat needs a leash and tube of super glue to keep those sexy lips shut. Nebraska is no surgeon, but she’d love to start by removing that stick up Slyder’s mouthwatering, rock hard ass.
Can Slyder save Nebraska from a skillfully evasive threat, and from herself?
Chapter 1
Finally, Nebraska NightRaven had solitude. Her ponytail whipped behind her, strands of hair lashing her cheeks as she ran towards Naples Island along Shoreline Way.
Perspiration formed on her upper lip. She sucked it into her mouth, tucking it under her bottom one. It welled up along her hairline as well, and she welcomed all of it.
She’d been trapped in her home for too long.
She’d been guarded.
Imprisoned.
Dying for escape, she’d slipped out when her protectors were strategizing how to handle her. The thought put a smile on her face.
She wasn’t a woman to just be handled.
And really, what harm could thirty minutes cause, in public no less? Someone would have to be ballsy to put their hands on her there with beachgoers, pedestrians, and passing traffic nearby.
At least, that’s the lie she told herself as she felt the first prickle of awareness of someone watching her.
Again.
The hair on her arms rose. Her ears tingled. Her heart that had just beat at a nice steady one-thirty-five shot up to a worrisome one-sixty according to her Fitbit, the wild thump pounding against her ribcage.
The sun slid below the horizon, setting the sky aflame in pink, orange, and teal. She appreciated it for all of five seconds before taking note of the street lamps that had kicked on, quickly calculating how far she still had before she made it home.
At least ten minutes. You know, if she didn’t die of a fucking heart attack while waiting for whoever was watching her to jump out and snatch her right off the path. And then, of course, if she didn’t have that heart attack, she’d be dead because, yeah, attacker and all.
So maybe running out without telling Neanderthals One, Two, and Three hadn’t been her best plan.
Not that she’d tell them that.
She slowed to a jog and glanced around under the pretense of stretching her neck. The crowds had dispersed for the most part. Families had packed up their overtired, sun-kissed children and loaded up their gear in their SUVs to head home. A few couples lingered, holding hands, walking along the water, but all too far away if she needed to scream for help.
With fewer pedestrians crossing here and there traffic had sped up, the headlights whizzing by before she could even catch a glimpse of the state on the license plates.
She struggled to swallow, her heart hammering in her ears as dizziness overtook her.
“Nebraska!” The roaring in her ears muffled the shout of Neanderthal Three.
Arms came around her from behind and she screamed, the blood-curdling sound rivaling the best screams from Hollywood, setting her throat on fire.
She thrashed her head and stomped her foot down on the boot behind her, eliciting a grunt from her attacker.
She dug her fingernails into the forearm wrapped around her chest and tore into the flesh with every bit of force she had, taking skin, shedding blood, and making the guy howl in pain.
“Dammit, Nebraska! It’s us. Stop this!” Neanderthal Two shouted as he circled around in front of her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her hard.
The minute she recognized his voice and his words, the air whooshed from her lungs and her muscles went limp with exhaustion.
“Why the hell are you sneaking up on me like that?” she demanded on a wave of pride, forcing her to stiffen her backbone.
“Sneaking up on you? We had to hunt for you because you took off! When the hell are you going to realize that you can’t just run off like that?”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“You need someone to save you from yourself. Jesus. Get in the car!” Neanderthal Two shouted.
Neanderthal Three ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around his bleeding arm, shooting her a glare.
Something she suspected to be shame welled up inside her. Right on the heels of it? Anger.
Red. Hot. Anger.
Someone had put her in this position. In this prison. She didn’t recognize herself anymore. The world had twisted into something alien and unfamiliar.
She hated every last second of it.
Grinding her teeth in frustration she marched to the open back door of the car and climbed in, slamming it behind her.
***
Slyder swallowed, letting the smoky bite of barley, courtesy of the premium stout, roll down his throat from the long-neck bottle. With his hip cocked against the iron rail of the balcony, he scanned the shore of the Pacific.
Now, this was living. He didn’t know what his friend Jeff had done to be able to afford the high-end apartment on Ocean Boulevard in San Diego. With the sun caressing the deep-blue sea, he couldn’t muster up the motivation to care beyond the fleeting thought.
A sea breeze kicked up, carrying the salty scent of ocean water, caressing his exposed arms like an amorous lover, a sensation he genuinely missed. Both the saltwater breezes and the lover.
A team of para-gliders to the left caught his eye as they drifted toward the shoreline from over the pier. That’s what he should be doing. Something adventurous. That’s what vacations were supposed to be, right?
Only, with ten years as a Navy SEAL, every assignment was a high-stakes adventure that might steal your last breath.
Vacations, more often than not, were for crashing on the couch, never-ending ballgames or action flicks on the TV, moving as little as possible, and sustaining himself on pizza, nachos, and beer.
The sound of Metallica’s, ‘Whiskey In the Jar’, blared, drifting out to the balcony from his cell phone.
Abandoning the view, he grabbed it right before it could go to voice mail.
“Dylan, man. How have you been? You ever get disentangled from that batshit chick? What was her name? Ashley, Stacy, Shannon, one of those crazy-ass girlfriend names.” He hadn’t talked to Dylan in six months, since Dylan had retired from the SEALS and started his own private investigating, bodyguard, whatever the hell you needed, service.
“Fucking Shannon, guy. And thanks for the reminder. First woman I ever met, that level hot, who could make my dick try to climb into my body cavity. Life has been bloody fucking peaceful ever since.” He cleared his throat. “Well, mostly.”
Slyder scratched the back of his head and dropped onto the leather couch, propping his sock-covered feet on the glass coffee table. “Mostly? Something up?”
Dylan’s grating laugh came through the line, a sound Slyder had missed more than he realized. Slyder, being the youngest of their tight-knit group of SEAL brothers, was the only one still active. Dylan, Evan, and Cole had all gotten out, and had gone into business together.
Slyder told himself he didn’t feel left out. It wasn’t their fault, since they had asked him to join. Problem was, as much as he wanted to move on with his chosen brothers, he was more terrified of who he was if he wasn’t a SEAL than who he’d become with them. As hard as it was, the cold, the sleep deprivation, and the injuries, civilian life paled.
“Actually, yeah. We’re shorthanded, and since your lazy ass is on leave we could use your help.”
“And you’re trying to flatter me to get it?” Slyder said with a laugh of his own.
“Word on the street is that you like it rough, with some dirty talk,” Dylan said, smart-assery lacing his tone.
“Word on the street, huh? I swore your sister to secrecy on that,” Slyder replied.
Dylan sputtered and coughed, the sound putting a shit-eating grin on Slyder’s face. At least, it felt like a shit-eating grin, the kind with dimples in full force and everything.
“You better have not touched my sister, guy, or I’ll take great pleasure in kicking your sorry ass for taking advantage of innocent girls.”
His sister wasn’t nearly as innocent as he thought, since Slyder had walked in on her, in Dylan’s bathroom during a party, on her knees…well, never mind. He’d never admit what he saw because there was no way he was going to be anywhere near that when it blew up.
“Not me, man. I know the boundaries. So, what is it you need my help with, and what’s in it for me?”
“We have a famous client who’s in a bit of trouble. The cops have pretty much dismissed the whole thing as a petty prank, but that’s not the vibe we’re getting. It’s taking the three of us to investigate. We need someone to babysi—hang out with her.”
“Oh, no…why don’t one of you babysit and I’ll investigate?”
“Because you don’t have any sort of relationship or clout to get information like we do. We need someone we can trust to keep her out of trouble,” Dylan said.
“Does she have a habit of getting into trouble?”
The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. “Uh, nothing you can’t handle. We have every confidence in you.”
“Oh, every confidence, huh? Listen, this is my vacation. And, seriously, if you’re going to screw me, at least buy me dinner first. Show me you care about me.”
“Listen, Slyder, we really need you. I wouldn’t ask otherwise. We need someone we can trust. Someone solid who can go the distance. You’re it. Please?” he asked, the banter gone, and his voice deepening with a serious edge Slyder recognized from their days in the field.
Slyder had never let a brother down and, vacation or not, he wouldn’t start now. “Tell me where you need me and when.”
Dylan rattled off an address in Long Beach, a good hour and forty minutes away on a good day. Slyder glanced at his watch. 1:30PM. If he threw his shit together now he could be out the door in twenty minutes.
“Hang tight and I’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and glanced out at the balcony.
So much for sun, sand, cold drinks, and that hot woman he was hoping for.
***
Nebraska watched the screen from one of many security cameras, this one aimed at the front gate.
A black Dodge Charger growled as the driver punched the gas and rolled up her driveway.
The new guy.
She’d heard Dylan talking to him; from the sounds of it, they went way back. Which meant he was just more of the same. One more man thinking he could tell her what she needed to do and when. First her father, then her brothers, and somehow they had gotten in her mother’s ear, leaving her dealing with these four Neanderthals.
And none of it mattered because, still, someone was messing with her.
Glancing at a new screen, this one of the circular section of driveway in front of her house, her breath hitched as she watched the guy climb from his car. Blond locks fell over his forehead. Leaning forward to get a closer look she watched as he brushed the thick waves back with long fingers, revealing the darker strands beneath and dirty-blond scruff dusted along his jaw and above his lip.
Surfer hair, but that’s where the similarities with surfers ended. His slate-gray T-shirt hugged hard, well-defined arms. Golden hair dusted his tan skin. As he closed his car door, his shoulders bunched and flexed in an impressive display of raw strength. He looked so much like his friends, tall and strong, but in his case he was also more.
She didn’t know quite what it was. Maybe the rough edges, or the way he moved—seemingly relaxed, but coiled to strike all at the same time. The new guy was a bundle of contradictions and, despite the reason for his arrival, Nebraska acknowledged that his rough exterior intrigued her far more than it should.
Because the last thing she needed was another complication.
Clicking the power button on the remote, she shut down the monitors and headed for the living room where her protectors gathered.
Dragging her fingertips along the ice-blue walls, a smile touched her lips. So much of her life had been turned upside down by whoever had been harassing her, but she had this house—and every square inch had been touched by her own style. She’d chosen serene colors, soft, cream-colored fabrics, and warm lighting. She’d made it her happy place by infusing it with peace and comfort.
The one place her stalker hadn’t managed to get to her.
But because of the wardens who had invaded, the serenity she had found in the house now was limited to specific areas. Primarily wherever she could close her door to the guys and their constant speculation.
They weren’t there twenty-four-seven, not yet anyway. But it seemed like when they weren’t there, one of her brothers was dropping in, or her mother. Her father had visited once, but he rarely left the reservation she grew up on since taking a job with the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
She had five-thousand-square-feet overall. With the current invasion? She’d been reduced to four-hundred.
At least her vibrators were in the meager patch of her house they had let her keep to herself.
Her feet hit the cool travertine tile and she sighed. God, she loved being out of heels and feeling the textures beneath her feet between tile, carpet, and wood. It reminded her of summer days on the reservation, grabbing her friends and abandoning her flipflops while walking down dirt roads to the rope swing hanging high above the refreshing White River. The cool, packed dirt teased her senses through the sensitive nerve endings of the arches.
Turning the corner, she found New Guy in the living room, shaking hands with Neanderthals One, Two, and Three. Feet forgotten, she sailed in with her head high. He was just one more guy like the rest of them
who wanted to tell her what to do.
He was one more guy who was going to fail.
“Boys,” she said by way of greeting.
“Nebraska,” Neanderthal One said with a nod.
She cocked her hip against the chaise and crossed her arms. “Are you finally realizing the three of you are no match for me?”
“Can we be serious a moment?” Neanderthal Two said.
“That seems to be all you guys are capable of,” she said.
“We’re trying to keep you alive,” Neanderthal Three said as he rubbed his forearm.
She rolled her eyes and studied her fingernails. “Could you be any more dramatic?” She hated the reminder that she needed help with this. A huge part of her wanted the Long Beach Police Department to be right, that this was just a few inconsistent pranks that would die off.
Only, they had started when her face had been splashed all over the news for her protests at the Standing Rock protests, and although they’d died down they flared back to life again with the Keystone Pipeline spill. Someone was worried she was going to jump into the media circus again.
And if she wasn’t on such a tight leash, they’d be right.
She hated being held back, especially for a cause so important to her. She might have made a successful movie career in L.A., but her family, her friends, most still lived on those lands. It was like dominoes, if one was allowed to push their way in and run alongside their lands risking the water supply, it was only a matter of time before more were allowed—and maybe one day, not just running alongside but bulldozing through.
She still couldn’t close her eyes at night without thinking about how the authorities abused her people by hosing them down in frigid temperatures. And when questioned on their actions, they claimed to be putting out fires.
Well, she was there, and they had lied.
“Could you wake the hell up and realize that this isn’t just going to go away?” Neanderthal One said.
“We all know this is going to die down again, just like last time, and it will be over,” she said with a wave of her hand. They all thought she was being stubborn and obstinate. No one had bothered asking her what really motivated her.
