Crave (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 5)

by Alana Albertson

  Crave

  Se7en Deadly SEALs Episode 5

  Alana Albertson

  Contents

  SINopsis

  1. Mia

  2. Grant

  3. Mia

  4. Grant

  5. Mia

  6. Grant

  7. Mia

  8. Grant

  9. Mia

  10. Grant

  11. Grant

  12. Mia

  13. Grant

  Consume

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Alana Albertson

  Crave

  The Se7en Deadly SEALs Series

  Episode Five

  Copyright © 2017 by Alana Albertson.

  Cover Designer: Regina Wamba of Mae I Design

  Cover Models: Callan Newton and Dani Cooper

  Interior design and formatting by JT Formatting (http://www.facebook.com/JTFormatting)

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-941665-62-6

  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.bolerobooks.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 are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2017 by Alana Albertson

  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.

  ISBN: 978-1-941665-62-6

  Created with Vellum

  Crave:

  Se7en Deadly SEALs can’t be trusted

  6ix months I cried myself to sleep after my son died

  5ive years since my parents took their secrets to their graves

  4our hours since Grant vanished in a hurry

  Thre3 years since my baby was conceived

  2wo nights of passion since Grant exposed my lies

  1ne minute ago I learned some news that changes my entire life

  Zer0 chance this new information is wrong.

  My world has been rocked. Everything I have ever believed has changed. Saving my brother is no longer my priority. I must find out what happened to my son. Being reunited with him is the only thing I crave.

  I threw my phone across the room and let out a piercing scream. What the fuck was happening to me? Was I cursed? How could my life fall apart any more than it already had?

  How could Joaquín not be my brother?

  Heat flooded my body, and my brain burned. How much more heartbreak could I endure? I’d known nothing but pain since the night my parents had died. I’d been raped, my boyfriend had almost been killed by a bomb in the middle east, my baby had died, and then my brother had been arrested. I didn’t know if I could take one more curve ball being thrown at me.

  I forced myself to take some calming breaths as I left Grant’s bedroom and went into his office. On his desk was a picture of my brother. I studied his face. Dark skin, almond-shaped eyes, long eyelashes. I searched the image, trying to match any of our features.

  But there weren’t any.

  Sure, we looked similar, but it was in a cultural way and not a brother-sister way. But he was a spitting image of my mom, and I was the spitting image of my dad.

  What the fuck did that mean?

  He had to be adopted. Or maybe I was.

  We were raised together, I knew that for sure. He was my brother, same DNA or not. But why wouldn’t my parents have said something?

  My lips pressed together as I came to my decision. It didn’t matter. A DNA test wouldn’t change the way I felt about him. I loved him, always and forever.

  Joaquín wasn’t some stranger. I knew him. I trusted him. Hell, I’d ruined my life to try to exonerate him. If that wasn’t love, then I wasn’t sure what was.

  Whatever the reason was, it didn’t change anything. What had changed was ten minutes ago, my son was dead.

  And now, my son was alive.

  Alive.

  Julián. They name someone had given him.

  Elías. The name I had given him. My father’s name.

  The sickening wave of adrenaline, excitement, and anticipation hit me so hard my hands started to shake. Holy fuck, he was alive. I should’ve been ecstatic, but the emotions were too much—too sudden, and they made my stomach twist and tears spring to my eyes.

  How many nights had I cried myself to sleep, wishing he were alive so I could hold him in my arms, kiss him, and never let him go.

  My dreams for him, for me, could finally come true.

  I just needed to get him. The thought threw every fiber in my body into panic, and I raked my hands through my hair, pulling at it until my scalp burned. He had been kidnapped, stolen from a hospital right under the noses of nurses and security and . . . me. I didn’t know Tiffany, but something in my gut told me she wasn’t the one who had taken him. She somehow ended up with him and pawned him off on her mother to raise.

  So, who took him?

  I didn’t know. What I knew was that Tiffany was dead and her mother had custody of him. Tiffany’s mother wouldn’t just hand him over to me. She loved the kid and when she’d met me, I had been pretending to be some Ukrainian stripper with huge boobs. She would be more likely to call the cops then give me my son. I would need to figure out a way to prove he was mine.

  But I wanted to just grab him.

  Fuck.

  My head was buzzing.

  I needed to calm down. Think rationally. Get a hold of myself, which was hard to do, especially since I’d snorted a line of coke an hour ago.

  I left Grant’s office, went to the kitchen and boiled some water. After a few minutes, the tea kettle whistled. I poured myself a mug and stared at the color of the water as I bobbed the tea bag. As the scent of cinnamon and cloves tickled my nostrils, my mind began to slow down. A few sips of the warm liquid, and my thoughts cleared.

  Grant was still not home, and I had no idea where he’d gone. I reached for my phone, which was sitting on the counter, but stilled my hand. I was about to call him and tell him the truth. I curled my fingers. Grant would help me. I knew he would, especially since there was a chance that he was Julián’s father.

  That was what stopped me. I didn’t know if Grant was actually Julián’s father. I believed in my heart he was, but I wasn’t certain. I’d always wanted to know the answer to that question but had been afraid to find out the truth. Too afraid of the possibility that my son wasn’t Grant’s and in
stead he was the child of my rapist.

  If Grant was the father of my child, he would want to be part of our lives. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe this would change things entirely between Grant and me. We wouldn’t go rushing off into the sunset as a family. No. Grant despised me too much for that. I had lied to him. I had run away from him. I had broken his heart. But maybe, just maybe, this new beginning could help us heal a bit.

  What was my plan? Show up at Tiffany’s mother’s house and demand to get my son? Show some DNA test done by Roman’s friend? Kidnap my boy back?

  The rational Mia knew that I should take a deep breath, call Grant, contact the police, and file a case.

  But Mia had been missing for six months.

  Ksenya was anything but rational.

  I could call Grant, but he would realize I was high—a conversation I did not want to have with him. I couldn’t possibly drive. No matter how desperate I was, I refused to drive intoxicated. My parents had been killed by a drunk driver. I would not risk innocent lives.

  I could call an Uber or call Autumn to take me up there? Neither of those options sounded appealing. Especially since I had no idea what Julián’s grandmother would say when I confronted her. That was likely to end with her calling the cops and having me, the crazy woman trying to take her grandson away, put in jail.

  There was only one other option.

  I texted Mitch.

  Mia: Can you take me somewhere?

  Only a few seconds passed before I saw the text bubble.

  Mitch: On my way.

  I finished my tea and went outside to wait. Twenty minutes later, Mitch showed up, a satisfied grin on his face. I hopped in the truck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I was surprised to hear from you so soon. Where to?”

  “Temecula.”

  “Why?”

  I considered telling him but paused. It wasn’t fair to tell him before Grant. I wasn’t adding my blabbing the news to everyone else before him to my long, long list of indiscretions.

  “I need to visit Tiffany’s grandmother. Get some more information to free Joaquín.”

  He glared at me. It was never a good idea to lie to a SEAL. They could always tell.

  “Why isn’t Grant taking you?”

  This time, I’d tell the truth. “Because I don’t have a clue where he is. He left this morning and hasn’t answered my texts. Besides, he seems to think Joaquín is guilty, which is why you’re here, big guy.”

  “Fine. But I’m going in with you.”

  “Okay.”

  We drove up to Temecula in comfortable silence. I appreciated Mitch helping me, even if it was just because he wanted me. Maybe I’d misjudged him. He may be a misogynist jerk, but he was loyal and protective.

  We turned onto the street, and I let out a gasp when I saw a truck parked in front of the grandmother’s house.

  Grant’s truck.

  Oh, fuck.

  “What’s Grant doing here? I thought you said you didn’t know where he was?” Mitch asked, slowing.

  “I didn’t.” I turned to Mitch. “Please, just drop me off. He can’t see us together. He will freak.”

  “No way.” He turned the truck down an adjacent street and parked. He pulled me toward him, his piecing stare penetrating me. “Mia, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  I burst into tears, unable to stay strong any longer. I told him everything. When I finished, my tears had slowed and Mitch looked mildly shocked. I expected him to ask a million questions, but he didn’t. He waited until I got myself under control and looked right at me. “How’d you find out?”

  “Autumn took me to meet Tiffany’s mother last week. I thought the boy was Joaquín’s, so I plucked a hair from his little head. I had it tested, and he’s my son.”

  “And Grant knows? He found him first? Is this why Joaquín killed Tiffany?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Grant took him from the hospital. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Get a hold of yourself.” His strong hands gripped my shoulders. “Listen, Grant didn’t kidnap him. No way. He would never do that.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m going to drop you off at the bottom of the street. You tell Grant you took an Uber. I’ll stay around the area in case you need me. Text me to let me know you’re okay.”

  “Thank you, Mitch. You’ve been really great to me. You’re a good guy.”

  “You make me a good man.”

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek and jumped out of the truck. Anticipation and fear twisted inside me as I headed toward the house.

  Toward Grant.

  Toward my son.

  I had spent two hours alone in my son’s house, painstakingly examining every wall, opening every drawer, and scouring every square inch of the floor trying to find some clues as to where that lady took my kid. I wasn’t even sure what I hoped to find. I doubted she was dumb enough to leave her forwarding address. Even so, she must have had some help to pack.

  I went to the back yard and saw a man in his thirties taking out his trash. I headed in his direction.

  “Hey, buddy. My mom hadn’t heard from her friend in a few weeks so she asked me to come check on her, but she’s clearly gone. She left her cat here, too. Did she happen to tell you where she went?”

  The guy eyed me suspiciously. “Lorraine didn’t have any friends.”

  Lorraine. Hearing her name sent a chill through me. I didn’t know anything about the woman who was raising my son.

  “They hadn’t seen each other in years.” I needed to give this guy a reason to trust me, so I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, flashing the guy my military ID. “I’m a Navy SEAL and wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  He scowled at me. “Did you know that guy who murdered her daughter?”

  Well, fuck. I knew I looked upset by the question but hoped the guy would just think I was disturbed about Tiffany’s death. “Yeah, I did. Guy’s a lying piece of shit.” And that was true. No matter if Joaquín was guilty or innocent, and I was leaning toward him being guilty, I would never forgive Joaquín for knowing that Mia had been raped and not telling me.

  “Well, Tiffany was fucked up. What kind of woman never visits her son? That little boy of hers was better off without her. Great kid.”

  I smiled. Hearing him say that my son was a great boy warmed my soul. I yearned to get to know him.

  “Anyway, I don’t know where they went. A moving truck packed them up in the middle of the night, and by morning, they were long gone. She never told me goodbye.”

  Fuck. I had been right. Middle of the night, packed up their stuff, and vanished. And I didn’t have a clue where they were or who this Lorraine woman was. “Thanks, man.”

  I went back inside the house. I needed to call my commanding officer, Kyle, and have him run some intel. We could find property records, birth certificates, arrest records, something, anything that could lead me to my son.

  I walked upstairs to get the cat. I wasn’t going to leave him here to die.

  But then I heard a noise.

  I grabbed my weapon and peered downstairs, prepared to find the grandmother, my son, or an armed intruder.

  Instead, the barrel of a gun pointed right back at me.

  And the person holding the gun . . . was Mia.

  “Put down the fucking gun, Mia.”

  I clutched the gun and kept it pointed at him. Seeing Grant inside this empty house enraged me. Well, really, it was more the empty house that enraged me, and I was taking it out on him. Still, I wanted to know what the hell he was doing here.

  “What are you doing here? How did you know my son was here? Where is he?” I could barely breathe. The place was empty. Just boxes and dust remained.

  “The neighbor says they packed up in the middle of the night. I’ve scoured every inch of this fucking place for clues but found nothing. Put down the fucking gun!”

  I slowly lowered the gun, desper
ate to shoot something, shoot myself, end this pain and suffering. Gone, my son was gone. A tight fist squeezed around my heart.

  Grant descended the stairs and disarmed me faster than I could blink. “What the fuck? You better start talking now. You told me our son died. Yet, here you are, fucking looking for him. So, which is it, Mia? I swear to God that if you lie to me, I will kill you myself.”

  My lip trembled. “Our son? What makes you sure he’s yours? You know I was raped.”

  “He’s mine, Mia. I didn’t actually know Julián was mine until this afternoon. About a week ago, Autumn showed me a picture of him, and I knew I had to see him with my own eyes, so I drove up here and met him. I took his empty juice box and ran his DNA. He’s my son. Our son.”

  I gasped and my knees threatened to give out. There it was. Everything I had been desperate to hear. Julián was his son, our son. Not that had Julián been the son of my rapist I would have loved him less. But still, knowing that Julián was the result of our love was the only light in this incredibly fucked-up situation.

  But my joy was soon replaced by anger. Grant had known there was a possibility that our son was alive and hadn’t told me. What I had done was different—I’d thought he was Joaquín’s boy, but not mine. Never mine.

  “You did all that, and you never told me? This morning I didn’t even know he was alive, and you . . . you have known—” Suddenly, it was too hard to breathe and spots danced across my vision. My hand blindly reached out, bracing against the wall so I didn’t fall over. Grant, to my surprise, wrapped his strong arm around my waist and helped lower me to the ground.

  “Slow. Slow breaths.” He rubbed my back as I leant forward, trying to force my heart to slow and my lungs to expand. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I sat up and let my head fall back against the wall.

  “I just found out today also, and no I didn’t fucking tell you.” Grant said, clearly still pissed despite his small show of support. “You don’t tell me anything. I can’t trust you, Mia. Did you give up our son? Answer me god dammit!”