“That’s fine, dear.” She surveyed my body, guessing correctly my size, and brought out a selection of dresses.
The weight of last night’s attack still heavy on my mind, I wanted something simple and classy. My eyes immediately went toward a navy blue A-line dress with a lace bodice, sweetheart neckline, empire waist, and a layered chiffon skirt. I pulled the dress over my head, the soft fabric draping across my curves. I gasped when I saw myself in the mirror. The dress was stunning.
I walked out of the dressing room, and Grady did a double take when he saw me.
He walked over to me and kissed my cheek. “You look gorgeous.”
That was easy. I changed out of the dress, and in the rest of our shopping whirlwind, he also bought me heels and a clutch. Before I knew it, he’d dropped me off at a spa, where they did my nails, hair, and makeup.
I felt like a princess.
Two hours later, my jaw dropped, literally dropped, when he picked me up in his full dress blues, medals gleaming, especially the Medal of Honor around his neck. The sight of his scars never made me wince anymore. As far as I could see, he was the sexiest man alive.
“Hello, handsome.”
He took my arm and led me to a limo parked outside.
Once inside, Grady poured himself a glass of whisky and I had a rum and coke. It was as if we were going to prom, another experience I’d skipped because of my dancing.
The limo took us to the Hawaiian Marriott.
I stopped for a moment to take in the view of the beach and the palm trees, the scent of freesias in the air. We walked upstairs to the ballroom, all eyes staring at us. I’d had the public eye on me before, but never on the arms of someone I loved. Who I was proud of. Who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And as if this night couldn’t get any better, I was about to meet the President.
41
Grady
I straightened my medals, and put my arm around Isa’s back. Six months ago, I’d doubted that I would ever even find a date to take to the ball. Now I was here attending with the most breathtaking woman, inside and out. And better yet, she loved me.
The place was swarmed with secret service men, another career I’d wanted to consider after being a sniper. But I shook it off, refusing to focus on what couldn’t be.
A bunch of Devil Dogs greeted us, including my best friends, Beau, Diego, and Trace. I beamed with pride after introducing Isa, as my girlfriend, to them. After catching up my men, Isa and I posed for formal pictures.
The commandant walked over. I’d met him once when I’d been awarded my medal. “Good evening, sir. I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Isa Cuesta.”
“Good evening, Sergeant. Nice to meet you, miss. Sergeant Williams, the President has requested your presence. Please join us.”
We were escorted to the back table where the President was sitting with a few other high-ranking Marines. He stood up when he saw me. “Sergeant Williams, it’s lovely to see you again. And who is your beautiful date?”
I shook his hand. “This is my girlfriend, Isa Cuesta.”
The President kissed Isa’s hand. “It’s an honor, Mr. President,” she said shyly.
“The honor is mine. Sergeant Williams tells me you’re a dancer. I hope to see you dance tonight.”
She bit her lip adorably. “Oh, I’d love to. I’m so happy to be here.”
The ball was about to start so we were seated for the Commandant’s Birthday Message. A video played, showing the history of the Marine Corps. I was interviewed in the reel, cringing when I saw myself on the high definition screen.
“I’m Sergeant Grady Williams. I’m a Marine. And Marines will do anything for each other. Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful. I didn’t think I was going to die that day, I knew I was going to. But if I could’ve saved one life, I knew my sacrifice was worth it.”
Isa’s eyes welled with tears, and she clutched my hand. Her fingers looked so delicate placed in my white gloves.
The video ended, and there was the cutting of the Marine Corps cake, as well as a presentation recognizing the oldest Marine, a Korean War vet who was eighty-five, and the youngest Marine, a seventeen-year-old private.
I was having a blast, drinking, eating our catered dinner, seeing all my friends again.
Once dinner was over, an announcer took the stage.
Nerves overtook me. I had another surprise for Isa.
“And now we have a special treat. Sergeant Williams, please take the floor.”
“What?” she turned to me and I stood up and led Isa out to face the audience.
The sweat dripped down my face as I clung to Isa. Strobe lights, people packed into the audience like sardines. I spied my friends at their tables, dressed in their dress blues, clapping their hands manically. Man, what had I done?
“And now, dancing a slow foxtrot to ‘Tale as Old as Time,’ our guest of honor, Sergeant Grady Williams and Isa Cuesta.”
The audience roared. The blue dress hugged her incredible curves. And I didn’t need a mask or a costume. I was a beast. Her beast.
She back led me through the song as I tried to focus on doing heel leads and keeping the rhythm slow, quick, quick, slow. I hated to admit it, but I actually enjoyed dancing—the pressure of Isa’s tight body on mine, the softness of her skin in my scarred hands as we moved as one to the music. I was in complete control. Of the dance, of her, and of my life.
After a few more steps, she twirled off me in a flourish of a finish. My Marines stood up, their claps and catcalls deafening.
She kissed my lips. “I can’t believe you danced with me.”
I lowered my hands to her waist and kissed her back. As the applause continued around us, I reached into my breast pocket, and pulled out a ring. I had a question to ask her.
42
Isa
Before I could even realize what Grady was doing, he’d dropped to one knee in front of me, holding a ring. I thought I was going to faint.
“I love you, Isa. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
What? A day ago I thought I’d never seen him again. He looked up at me, his face so hopeful, yet strong and confident. We had so much to talk about, so much to work out. Were we ready for this?
I took a deep breath. We would figure out all the details later. All I knew was that I wanted to be with his man forever.
“Ay dios mío, Grady. Yes!”
He picked me up and kissed me. Applause rang out through the banquet room.
I stared at my ring, a beautiful oval-cut diamond set in rose gold.
Rose.
From my beast.
My beast. My prince. My hero.
My fiancé.
Epilogue
For my final act in the Marine Corps, I married my lovely bride in a traditional Marine Corps wedding, my buddies creating the arch with their swords.
After Isa and I were married, our lives had blended together seamlessly. She’d re-enrolled in her senior year at UCSD, and I found a job working with wounded warriors, men and women just like myself. It was great to know that I could inspire those who felt as desperate and despondent as I once had.
I’d decided not to write the war memoir with her father because I wanted to avoid the media spotlight, especially since we were starting our lives together. Isa understood, especially after I confessed to her that the only reason I had agreed to the book in the first place was to get close to her. But I did introduce my father-in-law to a fellow wounded warrior and they had agreed to collaborate on a book together. With his new book deal, he was able to save the house. Isa’s relationship with her old man was strained, but he was making an effort to repair the damage he caused by stealing her trust fund.
Money was tight, but we were both fine living on a budget. Between Isa’s job teaching dancing, and my income from my job and the VA, we would make ends meet.
Pasha had been arrested and charged with kidnapping and attempted rape. Because he had no priors he pled it down to probati
on. I’d always known there was something seriously off about that guy. Turns out, he had pending allegations of sexual assault with other dance students. They had been afraid to file a report against a TV star. He must’ve counted on Isa being an easy target. But instead she pointed the gun at his head. Isa was strong and beautiful.
I would never stop missing Rafael, but I finally found some comfort, knowing he would want me to be happy, and that he was guarding the gates of heaven.
Almost a year after we met, I looked out the window of our apartment and heard the sounds of a party from the local frat house where Isa and I had met.
“Hey, there’s a party down there. Looks like some superhero theme. Would you like to go?”
Isa came over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck as I squeezed her ass.
“I’d love to. But this time, let’s go as the Joker and Harley Quinn. You don’t need a mask.”
The End
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading my book.
If you liked it, would you please consider leaving a review?
Please read my free bonus book, Conceit.
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This book deals with many serious topics.
If you or anyone you love is suffering from PTSD or suicidal thoughts, help is available. Contact the Veterans Crisis Line/National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255
Acknowledgments
I WOULD LIKE TO THANK the love of my life, my husband, Roger, a real Marine hero. Thank you for being such a wonderful husband to me and the best daddy to our sons. For watching the boys while I write. For keeping me caffeinated during late night writing sessions. I love you.
To Linda Barlow: for your keen editing insights, late night pep talks, and hilarious commentary. This book would’ve been a mess without you.
To Mia Searles: For your amazing work on the blog tour.
To Nicole Blanchard: For listening to my endless rants and encouraging (forcing) me to finish it.
To Regina Wamba: For the creating the most amazing cover.
I would like to thank my editors for turning this book into what it was meant to be:
Deb Nemeth—your endless patience reading the many different versions of this book.
Lisa Christman—for your insight into Grady’s characterization.
To Julie Titus: For your amazing formatting and being such a sweet, talented person.
To my betas: Jenny Negron, Melissa Fisher, & Brittney Crabtree: thank you all for your honest critiques and making this the best story it could be.
To my two beautiful sons, Connor and Caleb for your smiles, your laughter, your hugs and kisses.
To Indie Sage Promotions for handling all the promotion for the book.
To all the fans who have written me wonderful emails. I write for you.
Invaluable
Trident Code #2
Invaluable
Book Two in THE TRIDENT CODE
Copyright © 2017 by Alana Albertson
Cover design by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com
Cover Models: Alli Lashley and Maurice Mooney
Bolero Books, LLC
11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510
San Diego, CA 92128
www.bolerobooks.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-941665-77-0
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Created with Vellum
Individuals play the game, but Teams beat the odds.
SEAL Team Saying
Invaluable
I’ll be honest with you—I’m no saint. Sure, I turned down my 9.6-million-dollar football contract to join the Teams but I’ll never tell you the real reason why. The media has anointed me a selfless, patriotic American hero. But it isn’t that deep—I just want some action.
A one-night stand with a San Diego coed. I picked her out of a steamy nightclub—sexy blonde hair, full breasts, nice ass. I savored her warm touch, the scent of her perfume, and the sound of her laughter. After she rode me all night, I took in the ocean view from my condo, thankful for the blissful memories she gave me to get me through my long deployment.
I cross paths with Miss San Diego again halfway across the world in Afghanistan. Turns out she is a professional cheerleader on a patriotic tour sent to entertain my Team.
I gaze into her beautiful blue eyes and give her my word that she’s safe with me. And my word is my bond.
Then she is kidnapped.
Whoever took her, took the wrong girl. Because I will tear this country apart to find her.
I’ll never win MVP, never get a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.
1
Kyle
Late Summer, San Diego
Summertime in San Diego brought out all of the honeys, and the blonde doll swaying her body to the latest jam was no exception. There was something about the way she held herself that set her apart from the typical. women of San Diego. She danced on a platform while the fluorescent lights highlighted her glistening, sand-colored golden skin. I bit my lip. Man, she was fine. Her hips swirled around, and I couldn’t help but imagine them swiveling on top of me. She wore a tight, white tank top with a turquoise bikini top peeking through and a bubblegum-pink skirt that hit right at her juicy thighs—I wouldn’t be satisfied until I saw her clothes strewn all over my floor.
I glanced at the window to see a long line of people waiting outside, hopeful to get into Green Flash Bar & Grill, Pacific Beach’s hottest nightclub. This place was always hopping, especially on Taco Tuesday. It was walking distance to the beach, had a DJ spinning dance tracks, and cheap beer and great food. I scanned the place again. Always aware of my surroundings, I also noted the green neon lights of the exits in case I needed to make a hasty escape.
My wingman for the night, Victor Gonzales, nursed his beer. He normally wasn’t my first choice for a sidekick, but my best buddy Patrick Walsh had ditched me for his new chick, Annie, who we’d rescued. It was a fresh relationship, yet more intense than most. Poor girl had been kidnapped during spring break in the Caribbean and forced into sex slavery. But no small-time sex-ring scared us. We were motherfucking United States Navy SEALs. There was never a question—we had to save her. Now she was safe back home in San Diego, madly in love with her savior, Pat. It was like the plot of a Hollywood movie. Despite swearing to us he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, that he was only doing his job, Pat was acting like a lovesick puppy, too. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for the dude, but I missed my bro. And it was hard to understand how he could be satisfied with carrying on with a relationship with our lifestyle.
At least Vic had game—boy could dance. The women went crazy over his shiny black hair, deep dimples, and tattooed arms. And he understood my logic. So that was a plus. There were no real feelings involved so no one got hurt. Just over the surface was a safe place to be. Pat normally hung out at the bar all night, drinking himself into oblivion. At least now he appeared sated. A warm body did a hell of a lot more than reaching the bottom of a bott
le, that was for sure. So I couldn’t knock him.
Vic and I sat in silence after we had just devoured a plate of tacos. They were good, but not as delicious as the ones Vic’s mom made. Vic was on his third Corona. I took a swig of my own beer and stared intently back at blondie. Would she smile when she caught me undressing her with my eyes? Or would she roll hers and spin away from me? I would put money on the former. I wasn’t a conceited prick all the time, but it was safe to say I didn’t have any problems with the ladies. At six-foot-five, I towered over the other men at this club. Height had its advantages. The bars in this coastal party town were packed with frat boys, surfers, Marines, and sailors. But I stood out. I wasn’t just your average sailor—I was a Navy SEAL and a former professional linebacker, with broad shoulders and solid muscles that resembled a brick wall. I’d left behind money and fame to make a difference in the world, do something I believed in far more than the game. Something I’d die for. It was a personal decision. One I was proud of.
Blondie made strong eye contact with me and then ducked her head away. Just as I thought—she wanted me. I could never tell if these chicks wanted to date a brother, especially one who was as intimidating to look at as I was. Sure, everyone tried to pretend we were race blind ever since our country had elected a black president, but as one of only a handful of African-American Navy SEALs, I was reminded every day I stood out.
I shouted to Vic, “I’m going in. You want her friend?” Blondie’s girlfriend had long, straight, dark hair that touched her ass. Petite, round booty and a nice rack. Just his type.
TRITON: A Navy SEAL Romance (Heroes Ever After Book 2) Page 30
