Navy SEAL Security

By: Carol Ericson

Once she got rid of Riley she’d be safe. Wouldn’t she?

His hand dropped to her shoulder, and she twisted her head around. He slid his fingers up to her throat, his eyes now a dark blue clouding over like a stormy sea. Her pulse ticked wildly beneath his touch.

“Be careful, beach girl.” Then he cupped the back of her head and drew her close, sealing his lips over hers.

The quick kiss didn’t feel like goodbye. It felt like a protective stamp that she’d carry with her forever.

She managed an inarticulate goodbye as she scrambled out of the car. Walking toward the police station, she didn’t dare turn around even though she could feel Riley’s gaze searing her back.

She hoped the police could help her even though she didn’t trust them. She hoped for once they could reassure her and make her feel safe.

As safe as she felt with Riley.


Amy Prescott—A San Diego County Lifeguard, Amy gets embroiled in a drugs-for-arms deal that brings her past crashing down around her. Can the sexy Navy SEAL who comes to her rescue keep her safe or will falling for him torpedo her well-ordered world?

Riley Hammond—A former member of the covert ops team, Prospero, Riley has a single-minded mission: locate missing Prospero member Jack Coburn. However, when his mission lands him on the beach of a lifeguard with plenty to hide, he’s not sure whether to interrogate her or take her in his arms.

Carlos Castillo—The ex-boyfriend Amy dumps when she finds out he’s married, but Amy soon discovers Carlos has a lot more to hide than a wife.

Ethan Prescott—Amy’s half brother is the heir apparent to their father’s criminal enterprise. Although Amy hasn’t seen him in years, he knows all about her and is willing to jeopardize her safety for his own means.

Eli Prescott—Amy’s father sits in prison a broken man, but do his connections and influence extend beyond the bars of his cell?

Farouk—Prospero’s former nemesis has expanded his business model and taken his terror worldwide, and this time it’s personal.

Colonel Scripps—Prospero’s coordinator, the colonel knows he can summon all of the former team members with one call. He just hopes it’s not too late to save Prospero’s leader, Jack Coburn.

Jack Coburn—The former leader of Prospero and current hostage negotiator has run into a little trouble. Can he depend on his brothers in arms to save him, or is he going to have to save himself?


Jack Coburn could think of about a thousand tastes more pleasant than his own blood—so he spit it out. The behemoth facing him sneered and readied his ham-hock fists for another round of punch-the-stupid-American. Lurch had to be the biggest Afghan Jack had ever seen in his life, and he’d seen plenty.

Jack hadn’t escaped his captivity from a small, airless tent to be thwarted here. He dug his boots into the dirt outside the cave and tensed his muscles. If he could take care of Lurch and drag his body into the scrubby bushes that clung to the side of the mountain, he could get back to eavesdropping on the conversation in the cave.

And if he’d correctly heard the name they’d dropped in there just before Lurch materialized, he had to listen in on the rest of that discussion. His life depended on it, as did the lives of his brothers in arms—the whole gang from Prospero.

Lurch charged forward, and Jack met his assault with a kick to the substantial gut. Lurch staggered back, emitting a guttural cry from his throat. The howl unleashed several pairs of footsteps from the front of the cave, and Jack spun around to meet his adversaries.

The Afghans gathered in a semicircle around Jack and, as he waited for the gunshots, a muscle ticking wildly in his jaw, he whispered, “Bring it on.”

The men closed in on him and the stench of their sweat permeated his nostrils. Or was it his own sweat?

Still, not one of the fierce mujahideen raised a weapon. Licking his lips, Jack took two steps back to the edge of the cliff and glanced over his shoulder at the outcroppings that dotted the long way down to the village where he’d been staying. Would his young friend, Yasir, be looking for him?

The leader of the group brandished his sword. He growled in the Darwazi dialect, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Jack pretended not to understand the man’s words. He spread his hands and smiled, nodding like a fool and taking another step toward the precipice.

Even if they believed him to be harmless, they’d never let him live. And once they compared notes with their brethren, the men who’d captured him two days ago, they’d torture him for information.

If he had to die sooner rather than later, he’d prefer to die swiftly and while in control of his own destiny.

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