SEAL Together: Silver SEALs Series

  SEAL Together

  Silver SEALs Series

  Maryann Jordan

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Author Information

  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

  SEAL Together (Silver SEAL Series) Copyright 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Becky McGraw

  Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll

  Proofreader: Myckel Anne Phillips

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-947214-26-2

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, this book would not be possible without his support. To my daughters, MaryBeth and Nicole, I taught you to follow your dreams and now it is time for me to take my own advice.

  My best friend, Tammie, who for over twenty years has been with me through thick and thin. You’ve filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister.

  My other best friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all – keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader and my Marketing PA, but friend. I do not know what I would do without you in my life.

  My beta readers kept me sane, cheered me on, found all my silly errors, and often helped me understand my characters through their eyes. A huge thank you to Denise, Sandi, Barbara, Jennifer, Danielle, Tracey, Lynn, and Jamila for being my beta girls who love alphas!

  Shannon Brandee Eversoll as my editor and Myckel Anne Phillips as my proofreader gave their time and talents to making all my books as well written as it can be.

  My street team, Jordan Jewels, you all are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!

  My PA Barbara keeps me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only her assistance, but her friendship.

  Chas…thank you for all you do!

  Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your home for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.

  Author Information

  USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author

  I am an avid reader of romance novels, often joking that I cut my teeth on the historical romances. I have been reading and reviewing for years. In 2013, I finally gave into the characters in my head, screaming for their story to be told. From these musings, my first novel, Emma’s Home, The Fairfield Series was born.

  I was a high school counselor having worked in education for thirty years. I live in Virginia, having also lived in four states and two foreign countries. I have been married to a wonderfully patient man for thirty-seven years. When writing, my dog or one of my four cats can generally be found in the same room if not on my lap.

  Please take the time to leave a review of this book.

  Feel free to contact me, especially if you enjoyed my book. I love to hear from readers!

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  This book is dedicated to my oldest daughter who graduated from The College of Veterinary Medicine at Kansas State University, becoming a veterinarian, her life-long dream. While there, we learned of the National Bio and Agro-defense Facility that was being built. You make me proud every day, just by being you.

  One of the reasons I chose the subject for this book was to re-visit the little town of Manhattan, Kansas, where she enjoyed four years of her life and we enjoyed many visits.

  1

  The sun had set over Caspian Lake in Vermont, and Eric Lopez looked up from his book, noticing that the evening shadows had also deepened. Sliding off his reading glasses, no longer able to see the book in his hand, he placed both items on the arm of the Adirondack chair. Sitting on his deck, facing the water, he propped his feet up on the rail and watched as the moon began to rise.

  Leaning over, he picked up the glass tumbler he had sat next to him and gave it a slight swirl to mix the water with the Scotch whiskey. Taking a sip, he continued to watch as the moon cast its reflection over the water. He appreciated the view, the quiet of the evening, and the whiskey.

  The view was one of the main reasons he had bought the cabin several years ago. It had been strange, having traveled the world for over twenty years in the U.S. Navy—most of those as a SEAL—to begin again, as a civilian, needing to find a place to live. His parents had passed away years before, and his only sibling, his sister, lived near Washington D.C. While he did not mind paying her visits, he had no desire to live in an overcrowded, overpriced metropolis.

  When trying to decide where he should purchase a home, he took a map of the United States, closed his eyes, and slapped his finger down on the paper. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his forefinger was pointing at Vermont. With a shrug, he had figured it was as good as any place to settle.

  He lucked out when he had found the two-bedroom cabin nestled in five acres of wooded land. The back of his house faced Caspian Lake, and the front was far enough away from the road that it could not be seen. The realtor had extolled the virtues of the upgraded kitchen and bathrooms, as well as the tall stone fireplace in the living room.

  Instead, he had walked to the windows near the back, looked out over trees and had appreciated that he could clearly see the lake just behind the property. I didn’t give a shit about the kitchen or bathrooms, but the view…hell, yeah. Turning around, he had immediately shut her up with the words, “I’ll take it.”

  The quiet atmosphere was another bonus. He could not hear any traffic on the road, nor any neighbors around. Occasionally, on a busy summer day, jet skis and boats carrying noisy vacationers would encroach on his reverie, but where he lived was away from the major vacation spots. The call of birds, the scampering of woodland animals through the leaves, and deer moving through the brush were the only sounds he wanted to hear and, most of the time, that was what he got.

  And, of course, the Scotch whiskey. Not a heavy drinker, he had nonetheless acquired the t
aste for the fine scotch during his SEAL days. At the end of a mission, his team would gather together, pull out whatever glasses they could get their hands on, and pour a splash for each of them. Toasting their success, they sipped the whiskey, enjoying the smokiness and burn. They might go raise hell later but, for a few moments together, they shared a drink.

  Sipping the last dregs from his glass, he placed his hands on the arms of his chair and hoisted his body upward. His knee twinged like it always did, but he ignored it as he snagged his tumbler, book, and reading glasses on his way inside. Closing the sliding glass door, he flipped the security bar into place. Setting his alarm by the panel near the door, he moved into the kitchen.

  The upgraded kitchen might not have sold him on the home but, after he moved in, he appreciated the work the previous owners had accomplished. Oak cabinets, granite countertops, along with a new stove, dishwasher, and refrigerator. He did not have a gourmet palate, nor did cooking provide great pleasure, but he did like to eat and eat well.

  He double checked the windows and front door, security habits long since ingrained still in place. Moving through the bedroom, he continued into the bathroom. Another room that had enjoyed the upgrades from the previous owners, it had been expanded to include a large tiled shower, soaking tub, private toilet, and a double sink. It was a strange habit, but he kept his toiletries to one side of the counter, almost as though a partner would want to use the other sink. But there was no partner, just him.

  After a quick shower, he stood at the sink and stared into the mirror. Not the type of man to normally spend much time looking at himself, he felt compelled in that moment to see if he was still the man he used to be.

  His body was still muscular, although with a little less bulk. His hair was still mostly black, although now streaked with silver. And, the lines emanating from his eyes were deeper...both from years in the sun and age. Age…the changer of all.

  Shaking his head, disgusted at the path his mind was wandering down, he brushed his teeth and flipped off the light. The master bedroom was not large but held everything that he needed to be comfortable, just like the rest of the house. He had pondered purchasing a king-sized bed when he moved in, but that would have taken up all the room. So, he settled for a queen-size, giving plenty of space for his chest of drawers and a comfortable chair snuggled into the corner next to a floor lamp.

  Climbing into bed, he appreciated the money spent on his firm mattress. Like the rest of him, his back was no longer that of a young man, and he discovered a too-soft mattress gave him no support and, therefore, no sleep. Lying in bed as he did every night, his mind cast back to what many would call the good old days. Men he had served with. Missions he had accomplished—the successful ones, as well as those that were not as successful.

  Rolling over, he punched his pillow in an effort to plump it sufficiently. His eyes drifted to the window where he could see the starry night sky above the tree line. With a final sigh, he closed his eyes, willing sleep to come and, as with most nights, it did…eventually.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Eric rounded the bend near the crystal, blue lake, his feet pounding a steady beat along the path. While landing in Vermont was completely by chance, it was through some research that he decided to live in this part of the state. The clear water of the lake and the surrounding forests gave a sense of peace and tranquility. He could sit on the deck of his cabin and enjoy the view or walk down the path from his home to the edge of the water where he kept his own kayak, which he often ventured out in.

  If he gave it much thought, he would acknowledge that it was hard for a former Navy SEAL not to live near the water. The desire for an early morning swim, kayaking, or just being able to run along paths that meandered by the lake and through the woods was too strong for him to deny.

  He pondered a swim that morning but decided on the run alone. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, pain suddenly shot through his knee and he stumbled slightly. Forcing his pace to slow, he knew it did not make any sense to push harder than his knee would allow. There was nothing at stake here, no training time to meet, no place to be.

  Refusing to focus on the pain, he continued to run along the path that now took him out of the thick evergreens and ran along the lake. In the distance he could see a few of the lodges that were built nearby, but it was too early in the morning for the vacationers to be out and about. With a last look toward the lake, he turned along the path that led back into the forest, appreciating the cool, crisp air that flowed over his body as he continued to run.

  As he started the climb up the slight incline toward his cabin, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He slowed his pace and deviated from the path. Slipping silently through the forest surrounding his cabin, he made his way to a point where he could see the front of his house. The glint of sunlight off a vehicle’s bumper caught his eye. Considering he parked his old pickup truck and SUV in the separate garage, he moved stealthily to gain a better view.

  A large, black SUV with tinted windows sat in his driveway, parked near the front door. He observed no movement and was unable to discern anyone sitting inside. Moving around toward the back of his house, he stopped, seeing a man standing on his deck.

  Black suit. White dress shirt. Black tie. Dark hair. Sunglasses. Fuckin’ hell. He hated having his morning routine interrupted and, sure as hell, hated having someone standing on his back deck. But, as he made his way around to the stairs, he had to admit he was curious about his visitor.

  Though his eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, it was clear the man was watching his ascent. Making it to the top of his deck, he stood arms akimbo, fists on his hips, and waited. The man did not speak. Neither did he. After a long minute of silence, he huffed out a frustrated breath. This is bullshit.

  “You want to tell me who you are and why the hell you’re standing on my deck?”

  He watched as the man slid his sunglasses off before hooking them into his front suit pocket, still without saying a word. Taking the opportunity, he assessed the man fully. They were approximately the same height, both with dark hair streaks with silver, but whereas his stance was poised for the uncertainty of what might come, the other man stood ramrod straight and ease written on his face.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to offer me a cup of coffee, would you?” the man finally asked.

  He cocked his head to the side and quipped, “Perhaps an introduction might be warranted, before we decide to become best buddies over coffee.”

  The other man’s lips quirked ever so slightly, and Eric was not sure if he was fighting a smile or if that was the best smile he could come up with.

  “Branson. Silas Branson.”

  The man lifted his hand and, after a moment’s consideration, Eric stepped forward, clasping it in his own. He had no idea what Silas Branson wanted with him, but with the requisite government vehicle in the front and the formal suit the man wore, he knew it had to be important. Besides, if he had to guess, he was looking at a fellow former SEAL.

  With a head jerk to the side, he invited Silas to follow him as he moved through the sliding glass door. Walking toward the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, “Help yourself. Cups are in the cabinet. Coffee’s already in the pot. Gimme five. Don’t figure you want to have a conversation with me smelling like I do.”

  With that, he left Silas on his own and headed back to take a shower. Not waiting for the water to warm, he jumped in and rinsed off the sweat. Toweling off, he slid on boxers and jeans and pulled a T-shirt over his body. Scrubbing the towel over his head, he walked back to the living room.

  Silas had taken off his suit jacket and it was carefully laid across the back of a chair, a cup of coffee sitting on the coffee table in front of it. The man was standing next to the fireplace, looking at the few framed photographs that he had placed there.

  Rounding the kitchen counter, he pulled down his own mug and poured his coffee as well. Taking a sip, he put the mug on the count
er and stood facing the living room, his arms in front of him with his palms flat against the surface, taking his weight.

  “I don’t mean to be a dick,” he started, and Silas turned to look at him. “But I don’t know you. I trust you enough to invite you into my home and offer you a cup of coffee, but unless you’ve got something to say to me, I think we can conclude this little meeting right now.” He watched as Silas’ lips quirked once more.

  “Crash.”

  His brow lowered, but he remained silent.

  “My call sign. Crash Branson.”

  “Ah,” he muttered, his eyes widening as he recognized the name. Picking up his cup of coffee, he rounded the counter and motioned toward the chair while sitting down on the sofa. Silas took the silent invitation and sat down as well.

  “See you’ve heard of me.”

  “Before my time, but yes. You had a fuckin’ good reputation as a Lieutenant Commander. Heard you were picked up by Department of Homeland Security.” He shrugged slightly and apologized, “‘Fraid I didn’t hear much after that.”

  Silas shook his head and waved his hand in a slight dismissive gesture. “Wouldn’t have expected you to keep up.” He glanced around the small, but comfortable room, before landing on the expansive view outside the window. “You’ve got a real nice place here. Quiet. Fuckin’ gorgeous view. Nice place to retire.”