by Linda Barlow
Table of Contents
BADASS
Blurb:
Chapter 1—Cassie
Chapter 2—Shane
Chapter 3—Cassie
Chapter 4—Shane
Chapter 5—Cassie
Chapter 6—Shane
Chapter 7—Cassie
Chapter 8—Shane
Chapter 9—Cassie
Chapter 10—Shane
Chapter 11—Cassie
Chapter 12—Shane
Chapter 13—Cassie
Chapter 14—Cassie
Chapter 15—Shane
Chapter 16—Cassie
Chapter 17—Cassie
Chapter 18—Shane
Chapter 19—Cassie
Chapter 20—Cassie
Chapter 21—Shane
Chapter 22—Shane
Chapter 23—Cassie
Chapter 24—Cassie
Chapter 25—Cassie
Chapter 26—Shane
Chapter 27—Cassie
Chapter 28—Cassie
Chapter 29—Shane
Chapter 30—Cassie
Chapter 31—Cassie
Chapter 32—Shane
Chapter 33—Cassie
Chapter 34—Cassie
Chapter 35—Cassie
Chapter 36—Shane
Chapter 37—Cassie
Chapter 38—Shane
Chapter 39—Cassie
Chapter 40—Cassie
Chapter 41—Shane
Chapter 42—Cassie
Chapter 43—Shane
Chapter 44—Cassie
Chapter 45—Shane
Chapter 46—Cassie
Chapter 47—Cassie
Chapter 48—Shane
Chapter 49—Cassie
Chapter 50—Shane
Chapter 51—Shane
Chapter 52—Cassie
Chapter 53—Cassie
Chapter 54—Shane
Chapter 55—Cassie
From the Authors
Linda’s Bio
Alana’s Bio
BADASS
A Stepbrother SEAL Romance
Linda Barlow and Alana Albertson
Bolero Books, LLC
Poway, California
Copyright © 2015 by Linda Barlow
Copyright © 2015 by Alana Albertson.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Bolero Books, LLC
11956 Bernardo Plaza Dr. #510
San Diego, CA 92128
www.buybolerobooks.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names may be used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover design by Regina Wamba—Mae I Design
Badass: A Stepbrother SEAL Romance/ Linda Barlow & Alana Albertson. -- 1st ed.
ISBN: 978-1-941665-80-0
Blurb:
I f**ked a SEAL—the human kind, the kind who shoots terrorists, sports rock hard abs and tattooed biceps, and scores an easy lay with every girl he ever wants.
I should’ve known better. I should be studying harbor seals’ habits, not conducting my own research into mating rituals of the Navy variety.
He’s a jackass. A bad boy. An arrogant, womanizing, patronizing, Harley-riding jerk.
A one-night stand. One night of the most incredible sex I’ve ever had. Shane is trained to kill with his bare hands in 300 different ways—and he knows 300 ways to f**k me, too.
Now my father is engaged to his mother. And we’re heading to Mexico for the wedding. He’s threatening to ruin their big day if I don’t surrender to his demands.
Quit is not in his vocabulary. I hate him, but I know he’ll never give up until he gets everything he wants.
Screw that! I won’t give up—I’ll never submit to America’s cockiest badass.
Part 1
Chapter 1—Cassie
The first time I saw him, I knew he was one arrogant badass.
He had a way of standing, with his hips cocked as if he was about to drive his dick right into you. Purely for his own pleasure, with no care for yours.
I knew the type. Tall, square-jawed, body fit and honed and sculpted. He was handsome and he knew it. He used it. His cool, assessing blue eyes lit on me briefly as he hauled his gear off his Harley—of course he rode a Harley. He didn’t look at me for long. This was a dude with a purpose, and at the moment, his purpose was diving out at the reef in La Jolla near the Children’s Pool.
It was nearing sunset, but people did dive at night. Was he going in without a partner? That would be reckless, but it didn't surprise me. Mr. Bad Boy Harley-driving Asshole didn’t mind taking risks. Probably an adrenaline junkie.
I couldn't seem to stop watching as he pulled off his clothes down to his swim trunks and squeezed his muscled physique into a black, shiny wetsuit. At one point, as if he sensed me, his head swiveled around and he shot me a long, silent glance. I tried to tell myself that he was looking at someone else, but I felt as if my shorts and top had been stripped away under his gaze. As if he could see me naked.
Even worse, heat shot through my belly at the thought. I wanted to be naked with him.
I should have known right then that he was trouble.
He donned his tank and mask and headed into the surf, holding his flippers. Just before he was swallowed up by the sea, he raised a hand, as if in salute. I looked around self-consciously. I was the only person nearby. Yup. The arrogant jerk was waving to me.
I reminded myself that I wasn't here to ogle hot divers. I often walked down to the seashore at sunset. It was a great way to relax during a stressful time. It was my first year at a new school—University of California, San Diego. Even though it was grad school, I felt like a freshman in college again. Could I do the work? Make the grade? Was I good enough, or had my admission to the program been a crazy mistake?
I’d done well in the fall quarter, but I didn’t feel settled in. I’d grown up on the east coast, and I was still adjusting to the California lifestyle. Like going to the beach in February.
I’d come to watch the La Jolla sea lions and harbor seals that hung out here in large numbers, particularly during the summer breeding season. At this time of year, the animals would mostly be foraging in the water. The females would be raising their growing pups—nursing them and teaching them to hunt.
I wasn’t going to get too close, because I didn’t want to startle any sea lions who might be on the beach. I sat under the awning listening for their distinctive calls. I wasn’t just idly curious. I was planning to do some research on the vocalizations of sea mammals. I wanted to come to a better understanding of the communication systems the animals used with each other, and I also hoped to study their cognitive abilities.
The barks and growls of the sea lions combining with the lapping of the waves soothed me, and I settled into a relaxed, almost meditative state. I’m not sure how much time went by before I was jolted into sharper awareness by what I recognized as a pup’s distress call.
Shit. There was still enough light in the sky for me to see the sea lion who was agitated. I thought I recognized him as one of the pups who had been born last summer when I’d moved to La Jolla. He
was the right size—about six months old. He was in the water a few yards offshore, twisting and moving his neck in a manner that I knew was unusual. I didn’t see his mom around. She was probably out in deeper water, hunting.
There wasn’t anything I could do. I hoped his mother would be back soon to help him. He might be sick or injured. Not all pups survived. That was the way of nature, and even though it hurt my heart to hear his distress, humans weren’t supposed to intervene. There was a law against it, in fact.
Since there were no other sea lions on the beach, I crossed the rope barrier and went down to the surf. I moved slowly and quietly, not wanting to add to the animal’s troubles by frightening him. He saw me and went still. So did I.
Then, to my amazement, he came closer to me. A chill went over me as his soft eyes met mine. It was the strangest thing—like looking into the trusting eyes of a faithful dog. But this was a wild creature. I must have been imagining things.
I should have left the area. His mother might show up at any time, and she would not be happy about a human interacting with her pup. He lowered his head and made another soft sound of distress. He was looking right at me.
Was he asking me for help? Whoa. Some of the sea lions had gotten quite used to people. There were always tourists coming down to the cove, trying to swim with them or teach them tricks. Usually this caused them all to scatter, but a young pup who had seen humans hanging around for all of his short life might be less frightened of us than other wild creatures.
He moved his neck again, and I realized what was wrong with him. Somehow he had gotten a twist of bright red plastic wrapped around his throat. Oh no. A surge of anger stiffened my entire body.
I wasn’t sure what the plastic thing was. Probably some piece of human refuse that had been carelessly disposed of in the sea. But it looked strong and tight. If it stayed in place as he grew, it would slowly slice into his hide and cause horrific, painful wounds. He would either die of those wounds or strangle to death as his neck grew too thick for the tough plastic.
I cast a quick look around. I was alone on the beach. There was no one to see me or report me for breaking the law if I tried to help the poor creature. Normally I wouldn’t do it. I’d walk away. If the pup was sick or if he’d been the victim of a predator attack, I’d accept it. Baby sea lions died. Survival of the fittest and all that.
But this was going to lead to an agonizing death because of some careless or stupid humans. And that pissed me off.
I approached the pup slowly. When he still didn’t flee, I slid off my shoes and waded into the water. I was wearing shorts and a tank top. It didn’t matter if my clothes got wet.
The pup gave another soft sound of distress and arched his neck. The plastic was looped around his throat and the end of it was trailing along his side. All I had to do was grab the thing and lift it over his head. It looked tight, but it wasn’t cutting into his flesh. Yet. If I could get it off, he ought to be fine.
Such a little thing. I made up my mind. His eyes continued to gaze at me trustingly. I knew I couldn’t turn away. I took a couple more steps into the surf. He thrashed around, as if he wasn’t too sure this was a great idea.
“I know how you feel, boy,” I said softly. “You and I are not supposed to interact, but hey, if some human did this to you, some human can damn well try to fix it.”
I was up to my thighs in the water now, and a bit unsteady because of the incoming waves. The water wasn’t exactly balmy, either. I envied that diver for his wetsuit.
I cooed to the pup, moving with infinite slowness, getting nearer and nearer, reaching out for the plastic.
It was slimy and slipped out of my hand. The sea lion bucked and made a louder noise of distress, but he didn’t swim away. I got a firmer grip, steeling myself not to flinch as he thrashed. He was scared and I was breathing hard now, determined to do this before he fled in terror and was stuck with the damn thing until it killed him.
“It’s okay, one more try, boy. Hang on for just another minute, okay?”
I grabbed the plastic with both hands and lifted it as quickly and smoothly as I could. The pup cringed and tossed his head and pulled me off balance. I lost my footing, but I hung on. I felt the force as he lunged away in panic, but the plastic stayed caught between my fingers. One more shake of his head and he was free.
I practically wept with relief as I saw, before he dived back into the water, that I’d removed it all. There was a mark around his neck where the damn stuff had been, but I was pretty sure his injuries would heal.
In the distance, I heard an adult sea lion bark. It was probably the pup’s mother, and she sounded upset.
And then I heard a human voice, as a diver heaved up, his wetsuit gleaming, just a couple a yards away from me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” asked the same hell-hot biker who had tossed me that mocking salute. “You fool around with the baby and now the mother is coming for you.”
And before I could say a word in my defense, the big oaf grabbed me up in his arms and carried me out of the water.
Chapter 2—Shane
I grabbed my equipment and headed to the water. Gorgeous sunset as usual in La Jolla, though nothing compared to the sunsets back in my home state of Montana. I missed the cool mountain breeze, the peaceful silence from the lack of tourists.
Well, at least the Southern California women were the sexiest, bar none. Tanned, incredible bodies, dressed year round in bikinis and skimpy sundresses. Most liked to party as much as I did, so I never had problems finding a hookup who wanted what I wanted—nothing but a good time.
As I took off my clothes, I saw some chick staring at me from the awning over Children’s Pool. She was pretty far away but I could see her red hair, white tank, and jean shorts. I gave her a friendly wave. Maybe if she stuck around until I finished my dive, she’d be lucky enough to go home with me tonight.
The water was calm and dark. I was usually the only one out diving here at this time of the evening. But after a rough day sleeping off a “balls-to-dawn” shift busting the balls of wannabe Navy SEALs candidates on base, I could think of no better way to relax and spend my last day in the States than a sunset dive in the La Jolla Cove. The nocturnal creatures and predators appeared, their colors that looked dull in the daytime shone vibrantly with a diving light.
Most people always dove with a buddy, but I didn’t need a goddam babysitter checking my equipment for me. I had enough fucking oxygen, and if I ran out I could hold my breath for five minutes—a useful skill for stalking pirates. Also came in handy when eating pussy.
I descended into the waters, slowly swimming through my favorite cave. Saw a beautiful ray, a horn shark, a few sheep crabs, and some spiny lobsters. A yellow eel saw my light and dug itself into the sand. I spent so much time in the ocean for work, it was nice to come down here and just be able to appreciate the beauty of the marine life without having to worry about catching a terrorist.
I began my ascent, bidding goodbye to my hobby for at least nine months or quite possibly forever—I was set to deploy to the Middle East tomorrow night.
As the waves buckled under the wind and closer to the shore I saw what looked like a flame. A few strokes closer and I realized that the flame was a flash of red hair, attached to the head of a beautiful woman. The girl who’d been staring at me earlier.
I swam over to her and saw her hands touching the pup’s neck. What the fuck was this bitch doing? No one was allowed down at Children’s Pool, the La Jolla beach area where all the seals and sea lions reside. There was a reason the place was roped off. A fucking tourist no doubt, probably taking one of those goddam selfies with a sea lion.
She released the pup who scampered into the water. I noticed a mother sea lion rolling toward this woman.
I grabbed the girl from behind, took a moment to gaze at her plump ass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” My cock pressed against her soft curves, the heat from her body warmed mine up instantly. “Yo
u fool around with the baby and now the mother is coming for you.”
I threw her on my back and carried her out of the water. She didn’t protest, and I wouldn’t have given a fuck if she had.
Now she owed me.
I placed her on the warm sand and checked her out. Curvy, tan, flat belly. Definitely fuckable.
I released her and she jumped back on the sand. Her nipple buds poked through her wet tank top and I wanted to suck on them.
“The pup had plastic wrapped around his neck. I removed it—otherwise he would have died.”
“Well he will die anyway. That’s the cycle of life. And due to your dumbass rescue attempt, you probably killed a bunch of other sea lions in the flush to get away from you.”
Her head tipped back and her lips turned up. I couldn’t wait to see those same lips sucking my cock.
“There were no other sea lions on the shore. I’m a marine biologist. I know the risks. Now he at least has a chance.”
Marine biologist? This bitch was probably one of those dumb-ass SeaWorld trainers who exploited animals by making them dance around to music and retrieve cola cans. “Okay, Dr. Doolittle. Leave the sea lions alone. If I hadn’t gotten you out of there, the mom would’ve attacked you—or you could’ve been arrested.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.” She didn't sound too grateful. “Nice meeting you,” she added, sounding snarky now. She blinked back at the moonlight, and though she tried to look away, her green eyes glossed over and softened when she glanced at me.
Yup, she wanted me. I’d make it easy for her. “No, you aren’t getting away that easy, babe. You broke a law. There’s something call the Marine Mammal Act. I’m sure you know all about it, since you’re a marine biologist.”
“I’m aware of it, yes. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Bitch looked up at me through her eyelashes and gave me a sweet smile. I laughed. She must’ve mistaken me for a man who fell for that kind of crap, the kind of guy who wanted a girlfriend and cared about making a woman happy. I was not that man.
I walked up closer to her, right in her space. “No, I won’t. My lips are sealed. But I’m gonna have to fuck you first.”
