Protected by a SEAL (Alpha SEALs, Book 6)

Navy SEAL Brent “Cobra” Rollins never met a
woman he didn’t want. He’s gotten more action than his entire SEAL
team combined, but the gorgeous brunette he barely even touched is
the one he can’t get out of his head.

Ella Thompson is working her way through
school, and the cocky, assertive Navy SEAL who stood up for her is
also wrong in about a thousand different ways. Player? Check. Older
man? Check. Interested in a relationship with her? Not a chance in
hell.

When she’s all out of options, Ella returns
to her former shift at a cocktail lounge to make ends meet. Her
boss is willing to give her the job back—for a price. The only
thing scarier than submitting to him is being pawned off as payment
to his enemies. The man who can save her is the one she should
never want, but he’s the only one who’d also protect her with his
life.

Protected by a SEAL, a stand-alone novel, is
book six in the bestselling Alpha SEALs series.

AN ALPHA SEALS NOVEL

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

Copyright © 2016 by Makenna Jameison.

All rights reserved, including the right of
reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

ALSO BY MAKENNA JAMEISON

ALPHA SEALS

SEAL the Deal

SEALed with a Kiss

A SEAL’s Surrender

A SEAL’s Seduction

The SEAL Next Door

Protected by a SEAL

Loved by a SEAL (Fall 2016)

SOLDIER SERIES ROMANCE NOVELLAS

Christmas with a Soldier

Valentine from a Soldier

In the Arms of a Soldier

Return of a Soldier

Summer with a Soldier

HEARTS ABLAZE: MEN IN UNIFORM

A Marine for Christmas

Her Forbidden Marine

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

Epilogue

Thank you for Reading Protected by a
SEAL!

Alpha SEALs Series
List

About the Author

Exclusive Excerpt from SEAL THE
DEAL

Brent “Cobra” Rollins stalked into Anchors,
fists clenched at his sides as he wove his way through the popular
bar he and his Navy SEAL team frequented, not far from Naval
Amphibious Base Little Creek. Low music thumped through the
speakers, shot glasses slammed down on tables, and snippets of
animated conversations filled the air. Howls of laughter came from
a full table in the back, but Brent made a beeline for the large,
sleek bar that dominated the room.

The dark polished counter seemed to stretch
on for miles, with chrome and leather barstools that Brent happened
to know were perfect for perching a woman on, wrapping her legs
around his waist, and sinking straight into heaven. After hours
only, of course. He smirked, remembering the money he’d slipped the
bartender last week. He and the pretty blonde he’d met had the
place to themselves for hours. Good thing, too, because she was a
screamer.

Not that he minded sending a woman straight
to ecstasy. Again and again.

Specialized in it, really.

He shucked off his black leather jacket,
tossing it aside as he gestured to the bartender. Row upon row of
bottles lined the shelves, the mirror behind them reflecting the
crowd in Anchors and making the assortment of booze seem
practically infinite.

As if that would be enough liquor to get him
through this fucking week.

A pretty redhead that he’d taken home a
couple of weeks ago sidled up to him as he sank down onto a
barstool, but he gave her a curt nod, muttering, “Not tonight,
sweetheart.”

A brief look of hurt flashed across her
face, but she flipped her hair over her shoulders and purred, “Your
loss, baby.”

Brent watched her walk away, her sweet ass
sashaying in those come-fuck-me heels. Hell. The woman was a tiger
in bed, guaranteed to make a man beg for mercy, but he wasn’t in
the mood for one of his infamous one-night-stands.

Imagine that.

He ordered two shots of whiskey and downed
them one right after another, the burn of the liquor chasing down
his throat and searing through his veins. He ran a hand across his
dark stubble and then gripped his hands together, flexing his
forearms in front of him as he stretched. Muscles rippled beneath
his taut skin as some of the tension left his body from the day’s
brutal training, but he ignored the gawking looks of the women
seated across the bar from him. At the moment he needed a stiff
drink, not a quick fuck.

And since when did he turn down a willing
woman?

A gorgeous babe with a spectacular rack
leaned over beside him, her cloying perfume overwhelming. Her
breasts practically spilled out over her low cut lacy top, and his
gaze momentarily roamed there before meeting her baby blues. Hell,
had he met her before? It was getting damn hard to keep all the
women he’d taken to bed straight anymore.

“Hi Brent,” she cooed in a low, sultry
voice.

So that was a yes.

“Want to come back to my place tonight? I’ll
let you drizzle chocolate sauce all over me again.”

Fuck yes. Now he remembered. Six months ago.
They’d had a night for the record books—he’d licked whipped cream
and chocolate from those gorgeous breasts, sucked red cherries from
her wicked little mouth, and let her pleasure him with the stash of
flavored condoms she had in her nightstand drawer. She was
practically insatiable in the bedroom and had a spectacular
body—but unfortunately her boobs were about ten times the size of
her brain.

Which was why he’d left in the middle of the
night without so much as a glance back. And hadn’t given her a
passing thought since.

“Not tonight, beautiful, I’m meeting my team
in a few,” he said, letting his gaze lazily roam over her.

“And I can’t steal you away?”

“No can do, sweetheart.”

“Are they all as tough as you?” she cooed.
“Because I have a thing for big, strong military men.” Her red
fingernails trailed over his bicep, and Brent guffawed despite
himself.

“They only wish.”

“The offer is still open if you change your
mind later,” she said, nonchalantly palming her breasts as she
stood back up.

Fucking hell. Was this chick for real?

His gaze trailed after her as his dick
unwittingly rose to attention. Shit. He was here to drown his
sorrows in booze and shoot the shit with his teammates, yet the
whole damn female population seemed to be on the prowl tonight.
Normally that was just his style, but at the moment? Not a fucking
chance.

“Want a beer?” the bartender asked, raising
his eyebrows as the woman sashayed away.

Brent grunted in affirmation.

He took a swig of the beer the bartender
placed in front of him, his stomach churning as the date on the
calendar flashed through his mind—exactly four years ago this week,
his younger sister had been killed. Not in an accident, not from
some debilitating illness, but from her psychopath of an
ex-boyfriend. Her ex had stalked her, unable to deal with the fact
that she’d broken up with him, and then he’d followed her home late
one night. Tied her up. Taken what she’d no longer freely give.
Then choked the last breath from her body.

Brent had been deployed on a SEAL op with
his team, halfway around the world, and his brother had been hours
away working a case for the NYPD, unaware their sister was in
imminent danger.

Fucking hell.

An NYPD detective and a goddamn Navy SEAL in
the family, and they couldn’t protect their own sister. The local
police hadn’t been helpful in issuing a restraining order, and he
should’ve gone AWOL to make it home. To save her. By the time he’d
requested emergency leave from his CO, it had been too late to do
anything but plan a funeral.

Bile rose in his throat as he thought about
her, helpless and scared, at the mercy of her murderer. The only
reason the guy was still breathing was because he was rotting away
in a jail cell for life. Not that that made Brent feel the
slightest bit better. He was more of an “eye for an eye” kind of
man. And wouldn’t he goddamn love to avenge his sister. To tie that
bastard up and beat the life right out of him.

No doubt his SEAL team all wondered what had
crawled up his ass with the foul mood he’d been in today. They knew
the story about his sister’s murder but not that this week was the
anniversary of her death. That the guilt fucking ate him alive most
nights. He’d distract himself with an endless parade of women,
burying himself night after night between a different woman’s
creamy thighs, but some shit just never could be reconciled.

He took another swig of his beer as the
barstool beside him was suddenly jerked back.

“Yo, Cobra, what’s up?” His SEAL team member
Mike “Patch” Hunter sank down on the barstool next to him. “You
shot out of base earlier like a bat out of hell.”

Brent’s gaze swept over to his teammate.
“Just having a drink.”

Mike meaningfully eyed the two empty shot
glasses beside Brent’s beer mug. “Right. And I’m a fucking girl
scout.”

Of course he’d noticed Brent had already
started without the rest of them. All of the men were trained to be
observant, but Mike seemed to have a sixth sense about things. That
knowledge had proved useful on more missions than they could count.
That didn’t mean he wanted Mike getting on him over his shitty mood
tonight though. Or guessing the reason behind it.

“Kenley’s grabbing a table with the other
ladies,” Mike said, gesturing to the bartender for a beer.

Brent raised an eyebrow. “Ladies?”

Mike shrugged. “Everyone came here for a few
drinks before we head over to the pool hall. Matthew and Evan are
looking for parking spots,” he said, referring to Matthew “Gator”
Murphy and Evan “Flip” Jenkins, two of the other SEALs on their
team.

Brent smirked. “Those are the ladies that
Kenley is with?”

“Very funny, asshole. They dropped Brianna
and Alison off,” he said, referring to Matthew and Evan’s
women.

“They can’t walk down the block
anymore?”

“Hell, what do I know about pregnant
women?”

Brent chuffed out a laugh. “You need me to
teach you about the birds and the bees?”

“Fuck no. And I’ve got medical training for
injuries in the field. I know more about limbs being blown off by
IEDs than babies. Gator and Flip are probably just too
overprotective for their own damn good.”

“No shit,” Brent agreed. “Next week they
probably won’t even want to hang around Anchors anymore. Too
hazardous.”

“Sounds about right.”

Brent’s gaze landed on a pretty brunette on
the other side of the bar. The light pink tank top and snug-fitting
jeans she had on highlighted her willowy frame, but his eyes were
drawn to the perfect swell of her cleavage and gently rounded hips.
Perfect for taking his mind off his troubles. She turned away, her
dark, shiny hair swishing through the air. Just the type of thing
he’d love to run his fingers through. Maybe tug on a little as he
tilted her head back, claiming her mouth in a kiss. Or guiding her
movements as she took him into her mouth, sucking him off.

Hell.

So much for avoiding the opposite sex
tonight.

His groin tightened as he watched her.
Nothing like chasing after a woman who wasn’t even looking his way.
The other two ladies who’d approached him? Trying too damn hard. A
guaranteed score. But this? She was exactly the type of challenge
he needed tonight. Maybe she wasn’t looking to put out, but he
loved persuading many a woman to change her mind.

Mike’s gaze followed his. “Thought you were
going for blondes lately,” he said with a chuckle.