Navy SEAL Bad Boy

by Cleveland, Eddie

  Navy SEAL Bad Boy

  Eddie Cleveland

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  45. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Eddie Cleveland

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  Holly

  I’m straddling Knox’s leg. The firm muscles of his thigh are wedged between mine, pressed up against my pussy. The fabric of my short skirt is hiked up, giving a glimpse of my lace thong to the guys – that’s how Knox likes it. He likes putting me on display.

  I watch the guys. Watch as their eyes dart back and forth from between my thighs to the gun casually resting on Knox’s other leg. As if their animal brains are too stupid to decide what to focus on: my panties or the threat of death.

  Men.

  I’m bored. It’s taking all of my self-restraint not to show it. I remember when this used to make me wet. When Knox went through his speech with a new guy about how much coke to sell he would start him off with. When he laid out all of his payment demands, with me on his leg, his coke queen, fuck, I’d practically cum.

  Being with one of the most dangerous and powerful drug runners in Miami had a lot of appeal to a messed up seventeen-year-old. And the nights where it lost its lustre, the free-flowing mountains of cocaine never did.

  Now, at twenty-two, I’ve seen it all a million times. I know I’m not Knox’s queen; I’m his puppet.

  His dummy.

  “Since yer new, I’ll start ya with four ounces,” Knox juts out his jaw and gives a curt nod toward the compact, tinfoil-wrapped brick on the coffee table.

  The new guy, Jim, doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink his icy blue eyes. “I want ten,” his lips are tight as the words squeeze between them.

  “You got shit in your ears? Or just shit for brains?” Knox’s muscles tighten, pushing me up a bit taller. Nobody contradicts Knox. I’m surprised Jim doesn’t know that. Or he just doesn’t care.

  Tommy rests his hand on the new guy’s knee, silently instructing him to shut up. “He’s starting you with four. End of story, man.” Tommy glares into Jim’s face.

  I can’t help but stare into his face too, but not for the same reason. I’m just shocked that someone has the balls to talk back to Knox. It’s stupid and it’s… kinda hot.

  Tommy’s greasy helmet of hair doesn’t move as he directs his gaze back to meet Knox. “Four is fine, man. Ain’t it, Jim?” He prods the man he’s vouched for.

  “No.”

  Tommy’s eyes squint, causing the three black tears inked onto the outside corner of his eye to crinkle up. Three tears for three lives he’s taken. It’s a pretty standard prison tat. I try to imagine what Knox’s face would look like if he had a tear for every life he snuffed out. The side of his face would be stained black. Just like his soul.

  I can feel Knox’s rage seething from his pores. I don’t need to look at him to know that his jaw is cut from stone and his eyes are narrowed like a wolf about to rip the throat out of his prey.

  From the corner of my eye, I see his hand grip his gun. “Tommy, why the fuck you bringing clowns into my home who can’t follow basic instructions?” His voice grits through his clenched teeth.

  “Listen, Knox, I don’t mean no disrespect, man,” Jim holds up his palms. “I can do ten though. You don’t need to work me up slow. I’m good.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Tommy hisses at him. Jim doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on Knox.

  “You’ll take four, or you’ll take none. You have one fucking week to get me my cut, five grand. You make the math work, but don’t cut it with too much shit or you won’t get any repeat business, got it?”

  “How about I start with six?” Jim answers coolly.

  “This isn’t a fucking negotiation!” Knox thunders.

  Jim clamps his mouth shut, but he doesn’t shirk back. My eyes travel over his ropy muscles, dipping down to the bulge of his pants. He’s packing, and I know from Knox’s pat down routine, that it ain’t a gun. I don’t mean to squeeze my thighs tight. I don’t give my pussy permission to get wet. I’ve just never seen someone challenge Knox so nonchalantly. There’s something about his quiet confidence that’s hard not to admire.

  “Fine, man. Four it is. You’re the boss,” Jim agrees. His tone is flat though. His ice blue eyes flicker between my legs and he quickly licks his lip before returning his focus to the job. It was a second, less than that, but it was enough to make my nipples turn to pebbles. Who is this guy?

  “Take yer shit and get out.” Knox nods to the brick. “You’ve got one week. Don’t make me send someone collecting.”

  “I won’t.” Jim quickly snatches the block of blow from the table and thrusts it into his jacket pocket.

  We all stand up. The men don’t shake hands. Instead Knox and Jim stare at each other like a couple of dogs ready to fight.

  “Let’s go, man,” Tommy nods toward the door.

  Jim doesn’t move. Tommy grabs him by his elbow and leads him away. As Tommy turns the knob on the door, Jim turns and looks back at us.

  “I’ll see you in a week.” His eyes are clearly locked on me.

  “Bye.” I’m not sure why the word escaped my lips. Let alone why it came out all high-pitched and singsongy.

  The men disappear through the door and Knox quickly walks over to it, locking it behind them.

  I start to make my way to the bathroom when Knox marches up to me.

  “You fucking little slut!” Bright white light jolts over my eyes as he throws me into the wall.

  His hand squeezes around my throat, locking me in place and cutting off my air.

  “You think you’re here to flirt with my guys, bitch?” The back of his hand slices across my lip and I can instantly taste my blood.

  “Knox,” I sputter, “please.”

  His fist is wrapped in my long brown hair and he tosses me to the floor. I hit it with a thud.

  “That’s right, Holly. You’ll be begging me all night.” He unbuckles his belt and quickly flicks the leather free, snapping it toward me like a whip. “You’ll beg me to stop. Then you’ll beg me to fuck you.”

  2

  Holly

  With a quick jerk of his wrist, Knox snaps the leather belt across my bare leg. The pain spreads over my flesh like wildfire. My eyes water, but I
don’t cry out. I’ve learned he likes that more. I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction.

  Knox sneers down at me. His brown eyes flicker with a rage I’ve seen more times than I’d like to admit.

  SNAP!

  Tears spill onto my cheeks as welts begin to rise on my calf. I desperately try to get my feet under me. I push myself up, attempting to stand.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Knox’s foot lands square on my stomach. I collapse back onto the floor, gasping for air. He knocked the wind out of me.

  “I’m not even close to being finished with you, Holly.”

  Knox wraps the belt tightly around his tattooed fist, his shoulders hunch over as he towers me. The silver buckle of his belt dangles menacingly before me, promising pain to come.

  “Knox, please… “

  SNAP!

  The buckle hits my arm like a rock.

  “No! Please! I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry!” I choke out the words, tears flooding my face. I hate myself for begging him. I hate myself for ever staying with him. I hate… him.

  Knox stands taller, proud that he broke me down. I frantically look to the lone exit from his condo. It’s behind him. The only other escape is the balcony. I’d never survive. Eighteen floors up would kill me.

  Wouldn’t that be better?

  I push the thought away. No. I won’t let him kill me. I won’t go down without a fight. Not anymore.

  Knox lifts his arm again; I scuttle back on the floor. I won’t lie here and let him beat me. I need to try.

  His belt buckle comes down, but doesn’t bite my skin. I scurry backward as I see the fire in his eyes blaze out of control.

  “Fucking cunt! Where do you think you’re gonna go, huh? You want me to chase you around the room?” He snarls.

  “Knox, please. Put down the belt,” I plead.

  “After what you did? I brought you into my home and took care of you, for how long? Years! Treated you like a little princess and you sit on my lap with your pussy leaking for some other guy?” He leaps toward me, the belt buckle glistening under the light.

  “I didn’t!” I protest, shifting backward as quickly as I can manage.

  SNAP!

  “Fuck!” The buckle meets my ankle and blinding pain sears through me. I don’t have time to hold it. To check it. To see if it’s broken. I need to get away.

  I move back and thump into the coffee table. Quickly, I cower under it, then tip it over, trying to barricade myself from Knox’s abuse. The table hits the floor with a thud. My mind reels for a better plan. I silently pray for help when the cool metal slides against my hand.

  His gun.

  The gun I’ve never seen him without, a single day. The one that’s always out. Always loaded. The silencer, always screwed on tight. It just slid from the table to the floor beside my hand.

  I blink, uncertain of how the gun ended up in my hand. I don’t remember picking it up. I don’t remember aiming it at him. My brain is in survival mode.

  Knox is perfectly still. The smug smile on his face tells me just how serious he thinks this is. He hasn’t even dropped the belt.

  “Oh, come on,” he smiles. He’s clearly amused. “You gonna shoot me?” He takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

  “Stay back!” Hot tears blur my vision. I raise the gun to his head and cock it. It’s heavier than I imagined.

  Knox’s smile fades. “You won’t,” his voice is confident but he doesn’t move. “You need me, Holly. We need each other.”

  My hand trembles. If I drop this gun, I know how this ends. My body covered in welts as he roughly fucks me. I know that tomorrow, he’ll buy me expensive clothes, and that we’ll never talk about this. About what he does to me. Until next time. When it happens again.

  And again.

  “No!” My voice is steadier than my hand. “I don’t need you anymore.”

  “If you shoot me, you better fucking kill me, cunt! I’ll fuck you with that gun, you understand me?” Knox booms.

  I drop my hand, and Knox sneers as he thinks that he won. Instead, I aim between his legs, I’m going to shoot his dick off. The trigger squeezes easily under my finger. I close my eyes and lower the gun.

  BANG!

  “Fucking-shit-fuck! You bitch!”

  I open my eyes and Knox is on the floor holding his knee. Not what I was aiming for, but satisfaction still swells up inside me as I watch the blood stain his jeans.

  There’s no time to waste! I spot his car keys on the bookshelf and run across the room to grab them.

  “I’m gonna slice you open! Do you hear me?” Knox shrieks.

  Clutching the keys in my free hand, I grip his gun tight in my other. I hold it up again, pointing it at him as I maneuver around his bloody pool growing on the floor.

  “Fuck you, Knox.” I grit the words through my teeth. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you with your own fucking gun,” I yell bravely.

  I run to the door and don’t look back as I pass through it. I know he can’t chase me down, but somehow I’m not convinced he won’t find a way. I race down the stairwell so fast I feel like I’m almost tumbling down the flights of stairs. My ankle is screaming in pain, but I can’t stop. I can’t risk him catching me. Not now.

  Knox will kill me. Or have someone else do it. The fluorescent lights blend together as I race through the underground parking lot to his car. Jumping in, I half expect him to hit the window, like some kind of goddamned horror movie villain that won’t die. He’s been far worse than that for me, for a long time now.

  The key turns in the ignition and the car starts. I back out and Knox isn’t there. I make it all the way to the exit, expecting this to somehow fall apart at any second. I shiver despite the Miami heat.

  Nothing stops me. I pull out onto the street and drive away into the night. All my fears of never being able to escape slowly begin to fade as I realize what I just did. I’ve been with Knox so long; I had convinced myself freedom was impossible. I toss his handgun into the passenger seat and drive away. Knox and his horrors grow smaller in my rearview mirror as my mind fumbles to come up with a plan. I’ll need to ditch the car. I need to get out of Florida. But where will I go? How will I get there?

  I only know two things right now.

  I’m free.

  If Knox tracks me down, I’ll be dead.

  3

  Jake

  “Petty Officer Armstrong!” My head snaps up and my eyes refocus to the present. Back from the hundred-mile stare – the look I get when the past haunts my memories.

  “Chief!” I answer Chief Warrant Officer Andrews, who’s been assigned to represent me at my hearing.

  My Captain’s Mast is a blessing compared to the court-martial I could’ve been up for. However, just because it’s a lesser punishment doesn’t mean I’m not about to get tossed out of the SEALs. I know I’m not going to spend any time in a cell, but I might be given my marching orders. Back to civilian street.

  “You come to attention when I address you, Petty Officer! This is a charge parade not a fucking tea party,” Andrews barks, his cheeks billowing out like a sail in high seas.

  “Yes, Chief!” I stand at attention. Eyes forward. Chin up. Shoulders back. I refuse to let my gaze wander over to the man now responsible for representing me. A man I’ve served with for years. Closer to me than my own father. My gut twinges as the thought marinates in my brain. Just like my own Dad, he’s a man I’ve let down.

  “Now, listen here,” the Chief continues, “you’re gonna march down these flats and before you enter the quarterdeck you’re gonna remove your headdress, got it?” He doesn’t wait for my response. It wasn’t a real question.

  My eyes flicker over his aging face. He meets my gaze with a hardened stare, his brown eyes leveling me. “You’re gonna march over to the podium and bring your heels together in front of the Captain. You don’t say a word. Not a fucking peep. You let me do the talking, understand?” He paces in front of me nervously. />
  Again, I don’t answer, but this time I can see that Andrews wanted me to. He stops and peers at me with a look that makes me wish I could hide in my own skin. How is it that I can face terrorists? I can shoot killers dead without a second thought, but a look from Andrews makes me feel like a nervous recruit again.

  “Yes, Chief!” I answer.

  Andrews nods slowly, happy with my delayed response. His sea boots squeak against the floor as he goes back to pacing.

  “Good. Now, the Captain will hear your charges. He’ll listen to what I have to say and then he’ll ask you to speak. A word of advice, keep it short, sweet and true. No excuses. No one wants to hear anything other than your total acceptance that what you did was wrong, get it?”

  “Yes, Chief!”

  “I’m gonna recommend that we keep you, Armstrong. I’ll do what I can. However, there’s a good chance you’re being discharged. If that happens,” he stops in his tracks and looks me square in the face, “I want to thank you.”

  I can’t hide the surprise spreading over my face like an oil slick on the ocean. My jaw slackens, “Thank me?”

  “Yes,” the Chief’s face is inches from my own. I can see the broken capillaries in his nose that tell the tale of more fun nights out with the boys than he probably remembers. The smell of his tobacco chew wafts around me. “Listen, son, I know you. I’ve known you for many years now. I know as well as anybody that this was a mistake. An idiotic mistake, but it wasn’t you. You’re more than your worst decision. There isn’t a single person on this earth that wants to be judged on their lowest moment. Trust me, we’ve all done shit we aren’t proud of,” he claps my shoulder and his eyes soften.

  I look down at the toes of my boots, wishing with every ounce of my soul that I could take it all back. But I can’t.

  “If you do get the boot today, it doesn’t change what you did for us, for your brothers, or for your country over in Afghanistan. You carried out that mission and saved lives. This…” he waves his hand searching for the word, “shit show that you’ve gotten yourself into, it’s never gonna taint that. So, thank you. Keep your chin up and be proud of what you did right. Even if your life feels all wrong now. You’ll always have that.”