Night with a Seal (Hot SEALs #1)
Read Night with a Seal (Hot SEALs #1) Online
Authors: Cat Johnson
Night with a SEAL
Hot SEALs Book 1
Cat Johnson
Ten years of dedication to the Navy taught SEAL Jon Rudnick one thing—he’s not afraid to risk life and limb for his country. But when navigating military red tape begins to present more challenges than the enemy it makes Jon question his future. So does Alison Cressly, the woman who doesn’t do one-night stands or SEALs but who broke both rules with Jon the eve of his deployment to Afghanistan. He can’t get her out of his head—not while away and not now that he’s back.
When Ali’s life is threatened and military rules won’t allow him to intervene, Jon decides it’s time to take back control. The question is what would a SEAL do as a civilian? Jon’s got skills, drive and an idea, as well as a few teammates willing to cover his six. And he’s got the hope of more with Ali.
A team of sexy SEALs, a terrorist threat, and an attraction that can’t be denied . . . it all comes together in this launch of the Hot SEALs romantic suspense series from
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling contemporary romance author Cat Johnson.
Table of Contents
SAVED BY A SEAL (Hot SEALs, Book 2)
CHAPTER 1
The glare of the sun bounced off the hood as Jon steered his truck to the curb and parallel parked in front of his buddy’s place. Cutting the engine, he evaluated the house through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. It was nice for a rental. He’d definitely lived in worse. They all had.
He stepped out of the air-conditioned cab of the vehicle and pocketed the keys. It was hot outside, but not unbearable considering it was summer in Virginia. He’d take sunny and high eighties any day rather than the hundred-and-twenty degrees Fahrenheit that would be waiting for him in Afghanistan.
Jon moved around to open the passenger door and grab the cold eighteen-pack from the floor. It was going to be a good day. He had cold beer, good friends and Rick had promised them some tasty barbecue.
Best of all, he was actually stateside for a holiday. It was only Fourth of July—not one of the big days like Thanksgiving or Christmas, both of which he’d spent deployed last year—but it was a federal holiday so officially it counted.
He made his way up the short path to the front door and, case of beer in his hands, hit the doorbell with his elbow.
It was a nice change, walking up to a door in daylight and ringing the bell rather than creeping through the dark wearing night vision goggles and blowing the lock. It was the little things such as being able to approach a door and not have to dodge automatic gunfire that a man grew to appreciate after a decade of combat deployments.
The door swung wide and all six-foot-five of Rick Mann’s hulking frame filled the opening. Built like a linebacker, Rick always had made Jon—whose six-foot-two-inch frame was lean muscle rather than bulk—feel small.
“Dude, good to see you.” Jon held the beer with his left arm and clasped right hands with his former teammate.
“You too. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss seeing that smartass face of yours all hours of the day and night.” Rick grinned and stepped back to let Jon inside the front door of the house. “Come on in. The party’s going to be around back on the deck.”
As Rick led the way through the house, Jon glanced around him. It wasn’t huge, but it was neat and comfortable. A big flat-screen TV hung on one wall of the living room. Just past the living room furniture was an island lined with stools and a decent sized kitchen with appliances that looked to be fairly new.
Except for an overabundance of floral throw pillows covering the sectional sofa and the room’s two upholstered chairs—a clear sign Rick lived with a female—a man could be very happy kicking back here.
Jon tipped up his chin and called a greeting to Rick’s sister Darci in the kitchen. With a phone pressed to her ear, she smiled and wiggled her fingers in a wave.
“Nice digs,” Jon said as he skirted around a dining table and chair on his way to the sliding glass doors.
Rick let out a huff. “Thanks.”
He’d sounded less than enthusiastic and as Rick glanced over his shoulder, Jon saw his scowl. “What’s the face for? I meant it.”
Rick made a face again. “You know this is Darci’s place.”
“Yeah. So?” Jon asked. “It’s still nice.”
“I just never thought I’d be living with family at this point in my life. Moving in with my little sister is barely a step up from moving back home with my parents.”
“Hey, it’s not a big deal.” Jon shrugged. “You only got out a couple of months ago. And it didn’t make sense to buy your own place while you were active duty.”
Rick’s brow rose. “You bought yours.”
“Yup.” Jon nodded. “And I’m there less than half the months of the year, but even so, the bills still keep coming every damn month, so who’s the smart one here? You are.”
It had made sense for Rick to live in the bachelor quarters on base for the months their squad was stateside, and then just move his stuff into storage for the months they were deployed. It would be logical for Jon to do the same, except that he rarely did what was logical.
Besides, Jon liked coming home to a turnkey condo that was all his. It was far better than being at the mercy of base housing, which had left more than a few guys without a room after returning home from deployment. Real nice welcome home, that.
Team members without family in the area usually crashed on Jon’s sofa until a room became available for them. Sometimes it took a few days, sometimes a couple of weeks, but Jon didn’t mind the company. At this point, he and the guys spent so much time together he was more comfortable being with them than apart.
“I guess.” Rick continued to look miserable as he yanked open the sliding glass door leading onto the back deck.
Rick was obviously experiencing the grass-is-always-greener syndrome. Jon had seen it before. Guys who were in the military dreamed about getting out, while at the same time guys who’d gotten out lamented about how much better things were when they’d been in.
SEALs were no different than any regular Joe in that respect.
“I’ve got a cooler full of ice in the shade under the tree. You can put the beer in there.” Rick tipped his head toward the cooler and then reached to raise the cover on a stainless steel barbecue grill. “I gotta check the ribs real quick.”
“Sounds good.”
Ribs. That explained the tantalizing scent he’d smelled wafting from the closed grill when they’d stepped outside. Jon sniffed the meat-laden air as he made his way down the steps and across the lawn.
The yard was nice. Small enough to be easy to keep up, but private thanks to a fence and some well-placed landscaping. So far, Jon saw nothing for Rick to be complaining about. Living here, Rick should be a lot happier than he appeared to be. But to each his own.
Kneeling in the grass, Jon paused while tearing open the cardboard case. He breathed in the scent of freshly mowed lawn that hit him now that he was away from the smoke of the grill.
Never mind taking time to smell the roses, after spending so much time in the desert even just the sight of a patch of lush green grass could stop Jon in his tracks. He ran his hands over the shorn blades and felt them tickle his palm. It might be one of the last opportunities he’d have to appreciate things like backyard grass.
The squad couldn’t tell anyone the exact timing, but barring any last minute changes Jon’s unit would be heading back to the sandbox next week to spend the remainder of the year in the war zone.
Summer in Afghanistan sucked. But then again, so did winter . . . and the rainy season . . . and fighting season.
Jon had to think that Rick didn’t know how good he had it.
Catching himself in a grass-is-always-greener moment, he focused back on his task—stowing the beer in the ice.
When he got to the last couple of bottles, he closed the lid and carried two longnecks back to the deck. He handed one to Rick, trying not to let his mouth water at the scent of the meat grilling just feet away.
That was another thing he wasn’t looking forward to—what passed as food in the chow halls of Jalalabad.
Jon pushed that thought out of his mind and glanced at the near dozen or so folding chairs scattered around the deck and lawn. “Who all are you expecting?”
“Darci invited one of her girlfriends from work. Brody and Chris just called from the car. They’re on the way over. Grant’s coming with his wife and Thom has his kids today so he’s bringing them, but get this…Zane asked if he could bring a date.”
“Did he?” Jon’s eyes widened. The week before a deployment was a hell of a time to get involved with a new chick. “Wow. I wonder if it’s that girl he was talking about before the meeting the other day. The one he hooked up with at the bar after the shooting range last week.”
“I don’t know.” Rick’s unhappy expression caught Jon’s eye.
Jon reviewed what he could have said to get Rick pissed off and realized that of course Rick hadn’t been at the team meeting or the range or the bar.
He and Rick would always be friends, no matter what. They’d been together since BUD/S. Surviving something that hard together formed lifelong bonds that could never be broken. Jon had no doubt of that, but Rick leaving the team meant he wouldn’t be there for a lot of things from now on.
Time for Jon to change the subject. “How’s the new job going?”
Rick shrugged. “It’s all right.”
“Just all right?” Jon cocked a brow.
“I sit on my ass and watch monitors to make sure no crazy assholes try to blow up the nuclear power plant, so yeah, it’s just all right.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Jon tried to sound upbeat while in his head he was thinking that with his attention deficit disorder he’d probably lose his mind if he had to do Rick’s job. Jon needed action. Even the downtime on missions got to him.
“It doesn’t?” Letting out a snort, Rick shook his head. “I’m bored out of my freaking mind and I swear I can feel my muscles atrophying just from sitting for so many hours a day.”
Jon laughed. “Yeah, I guess if nothing else the Navy does keep us in good shape.”
Rick let out a short bitter laugh. “I didn’t appreciate how much until now.”
“You able to run yet?” Jon asked, eyeing the scar from the surgery on Rick’s knee.
“Yeah. I can’t push too hard, but I’ve been trying to put in a few miles every day.”
Another touchy subject—the recurring knee issues that had finally pushed Rick to give the civilian world a try. Ten years in the military had beat the hell out of his body. More than half of those years had been spent surviving the escalated physical demands all SEALs were subjected to, those in DEVGRU especially. The Navy’s Special Warfare Development Group selection and nine-month training course made BUD/S look like a cakewalk.
