Navy SEAL Protector
When members of her film crew start being killed off, documentarian Nicole Hastings is relieved to find the man following her is Slade Gallagher—a navy SEAL sniper who once saved Nicole from Somali kidnappers. Now he’s shadowing her to trap the terrorists behind the killings and find out just what they want.
Nicole couldn’t be more different from the women Slade usually falls for. But he quickly learns that there’s a lot more to this socialite than he first thought. And as Slade’s admiration for her courage and resilience grows, so does his yearning. Protecting Nicole is an assignment, but can he let her go when it’s all over?
Red, White and Built
“You do not have to carry me upstairs.”
Looking into Nicole’s green eyes, Slade narrowed his gaze. “Because you don’t want this?”
“Oh, I want whatever this is, but you don’t have to lug me up the staircase to get it.”
He chuckled. Yep, like no other high-maintenance society girl he’d ever met.
“No lugging required. You’re as light as a feather.”
“That may be, but I just survived a sniper’s bullet and an attack on the train. I’m not going to risk tumbling down the stairs, even if I do end up on top of a hot navy SEAL.”
“You don’t have to take a fall down the stairs to wind up on top of this navy SEAL.”
Alpha Bravo SEAL
Carol Ericson
CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”
To Joanne, my trusty treasurer
Contents
Slade Gallagher sucked in a salty breath of air and got ready for the kill.
Oblivious to the sniper rifles pointed at their heads from the yacht bobbing on the water just over three hundred feet away from them, four Somali pirates held their hostages at gunpoint as they communicated their demands to the two men who’d boarded their rickety craft. The two were US Navy seamen, but the pirates didn’t know that—didn’t need to.
The relatively calm seas made tracking his target easy—and safe for the hostage.
Slade zeroed in on his target, his dark skin glistening in the sun, one skinny arm wrapped around the hostage’s throat, gun nestled beneath her ear. Slade’s focus shifted to the hostage, a young woman with light brown hair blowing across her face and a tall, thin body, taut and ready.
What the hell was a woman doing out here in the Gulf of Aden? The orders for this assignment had made clear that this rescue didn’t involve a cargo ship. This time the Somali pirates had captured a documentary film crew. Idiots.
Not that Slade couldn’t understand the thrill of risk taking, but he preferred risks that pitted him against a big wave or a cave on the ocean floor, not desperate men in desperate situations.
The negotiator waved his arm once and shifted his body to the right, giving the SEAL snipers their first signal and a clear view of all four pirates. Slade licked the salt from his lips and coiled his muscles. He adjusted the aim on his M107.
The snipers had to drop their targets at the same time—or risk the lives of the hostages. He tracked back to the pretty brunette, now scooping her hair into a ponytail with one hand and tilting her head away from her captor. Good girl.
Had the negotiators been able to hint to the hostages that a team of Navy SEAL