The Valkyrie's Guardian
Moriah Densley
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Amber White
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5157-X
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5157-4
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5137-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5137-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/Julia Savchenko
BDU:
Battle Dress Uniform, camouflage button-up shirt, brimmed cap, and cargo-style pants tucked into combat boots.
Boat crew:
Platoon-sized team of SEALs, also referred to as a squad. A boat crew uses teamwork to complete training evolutions in BUD/S. The term is also used in SEAL teams to denote a platoon.
Booger-eater:
Bad guy, enemy.
BUD/S:
Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL, 8-month training course for Navy SEAL candidates, culminates at the intensive “Hell Week.” Survivors graduate to Advanced Operator Training before earning the trident and being placed on a SEAL team.
Budweiser:
Nick-name for SEAL Trident pin, stems from the unfortunate resemblance to the Budweiser logo.
Bullfrog:
An exceptionally skilled operator, or a SEAL with the most experience.
Chief:
Chief Petty Officer, commands a platoon of approximately 12 SEALs.
CO:
Commanding Officer, usually the rank of captain, commands a team and staff of approximately 300.
Enlisted:
Non-officer soldiers, “grunts.” Their parties rock.
Frog/Frogmen:
Navy SEALs. Also the precursor to the SEALs, the demolition teams of WWII, called Frogmen for their skill in underwater combat swimming and demolition.
Froghog:
Female groupie whose goal is to get laid by a SEAL, and any will do.
Fruit salad:
The rows of multi-colored ribbons on the left breast of the dress uniform representing a soldier's qualifications, honors and experience.
FUBAR:
F***ed-Up Beyond All Recognition, when an operation goes wrong. Related to SNAFU, Situation Normal All F***ed Up. Like many f-word conjugations, the acronym can function as a noun, verb or adverb.
Hooyah:
Catch-all expression of assent, enthusiasm, or respect. Exists in myriad variations throughout the U.S. military.
Leapfrog:
Method of moving through hostile territory. One of a shooting pair lays cover fire while the other advances or retreats. They switch roles until reaching the rendezvous point.
KA-BAR:
Standard combat and utility knife carried by SEALs and other special ops soldiers. Typically eleven inches long, made of carbon/chromium steel and sprayed with a matte black finish for stealth. You can bet a SEAL carries his at any given moment.
MO:
Modus Operandi, or Method of Operation.
MRE:
Meals, Ready to Eat. Pre-packaged, often dehydrated and processed field ration provided by the military in the unlucky event a soldier's only other option is starvation. Often dubbed Meals, Rarely Enjoyed.
Operator:
A Navy SEAL with the military designation 5326, combat swimmer.
OpFor:
Opposing force, enemy.
Over-under:
A combination assault rifle/grenade launcher, often carried by the grenadier (weapons specialist) in a platoon.
NSWC:
Naval Special Warfare Command, one of two headquarters for Naval special forces based in Coronado, California, or Little Creek, Virginia.
NV:
Night vision, as in night vision goggles. Some amplify light in greenscale, some detect thermal output, and others use infrared. And those are just the unclassified gadgets.
Point/Pointman:
Leader of an attack formation. He scouts the terrain and watches for threats. The point is typically the first to engage the enemy.
Platoon:
An assault team, or boat crew, typically consisting of two officers and ten to twelve enlisted men, but can be as small as a detachment force of six or as many as twenty.
PT:
Physical training, including the customary fourteen-mile run.
Ring Out:
At any point during BUD/S training, a SEAL candidate may quit by ringing a designated bell three times. Over eighty percent of candidates ring out of BUD/S for personal or medical reasons.
SH-60 Seahawk:
Combat helicopter commonly used by the Navy.
Shooting pair:
Unit of two SEALs who operate together and guard each other.
SITREP:
Situation report, in fewer syllables, for those intense moments when every second counts.
Six:
In the layout of a clock face, six is behind or the rear. “Watch my six” or “cover my six” means to guard the back.
SOP:
Standard Operating Procedure.
Sugar cookie:
A BUD/S candidate who gets wet in the ocean then rolls in the sand, usually as punishment for unsatisfactory performance in a training evolution.
Tango:
from radio letter “T,” for “terrorist,” or generic bad guy.
“The Company”:
Nick-name for the CIA, Central Intelligence Agency. SEAL teams occasionally collaborate with the CIA and host agents on attachment, but only when they have to.
Trident:
Gold pin worn by Navy SEALS. A screaming eagle in flight grasps a rifle in one claw and a trident in the other.
USMILINT:
United States Military Intelligence.
UXO:
Unexploded ordnance, incendiary weapons which failed to explode upon detonation. Tinker toys for the demolition team.
Wheels-up:
Deploy on a mission.
XO:
Executive Officer, a lieutenant or petty officer in rank who assists the chief in leading a platoon.
With utmost regard and heartfelt appreciation
to all U.S. military service men and women:
Thank you, and God bless you for your sacrifice.
Every effort was made to portray Navy SEALs accurately in this work of fiction,
in the spirit of respect for the fine work they do.
Any errors are my own.
Hooyah.
â Moriah Densley
Guide To Military Terminology Used In This Book
“God know you escaped from heaven?
You can hang around my place until he calls looking for you.”
âJack MacGunn, King of the Bad Pick-Up Line
Cassiopeia Noyon had finally turned twenty-one, only to find herself still being babysat. Worse than that, her bodyguard was a color-blind berserker with a penchant for “extreme cliff diving:” the too-dazzling, immortal Jack MacGunn. She'd healed his bruised ribs yesterday, but perhaps she shouldn't have, because dawn had not yet peeked over the sandstone canyon walls of Lake Powell, and he jostled her awake so he could ski.
Cassie bit back a smirk as Jack tried to fit his torso into a ski vest. With sixty-eight-inch shoulders tapering into a thirty-eight-inch waist, it was no mean trick. He struggled to adjust the straps and had some serious man-cleavage going on.
“Where is your neoprene vest?”
“Dunno.” He followed her gaze to his chest, then flexed his pecs in a quick left-right-left. “There's more where that came from, baby, if you ask nicely.” He winked, willing her play along. Girls loved his bad pick-up lines.
“In your dreams, Jack.”
“In yours too, Cass. I can make all your dreams come true.” Jack flashed his shy-guy smile, the one that made him look vulnerable. Yeah, right.
“Tempting.” She ignored the exclamation points flashing in her head, notifying her,
Hey, Jack is flirting with you.
Flattering, but she refused to fawn over him. So what if he looked like the God of Underwear Models? Cassie ran the bilge and idled the boat in reverse, relishing the distinctive earthy Lake Powell smell: sun-baked algae, gasoline, and soggy tamarack.
She didn't have the heart to tell Jack that ski vest was hers, purple with teal and pink trim. At least it matched his ridiculous shorts. She gave him a mental nudge and teased,
I can't believe you're wearing pink trunks.
Easier to speak inside his mind than shout over the roar of the 500-horsepower engine.
They're orange.
Who told you that?
The tag, before I ripped it off. âRipcurl Aloha Coral Sunrise, Size 38.'
Jack, âcoral' is a pinkish color. And don't tell me the flower print escaped your notice.
He stared down at his shorts and blinked.
My fire shorts got ripped yesterday. This is all they had in my size at the marina.
Yes, she remembered how his hundred-foot dive into the water had split his absurd flame-printed shorts, drawing attention to the equally absurd plump quadriceps peeking through the tear running the length of his thigh. Crisp bronze hair dusted his leg, and Cassie had noticed his tanned skin went all the way up â meaning every inch of him saw the sun, perish the thought. She slammed her mindshield shut before he heard.
There should be some law against allowing hot men to buy bad clothes.
You think I'm hot?
Jack, everybody thinks you're hot. Big deal.
He blinked again and scratched the stubble on his jaw. His thoughts shuttered, leaving her to wonder what he didn't want her to hear. If she came across as jaded, then fine. It was bad enough she had emerged from puberty a low-grade extra sentient with marginal powers; the humiliation could only be eclipsed by having
the
Jack MacGunn assigned to her security detail.
People tagged him as a steroid junkie, a super-soldier type. The latter wasn't far off. Jack descended from an ancient line of kilt-wearing, bagpipe-playing, Gaelic-speaking Scottish berserkers. Beyond that, Jack had won the genetic lottery. Or he was a freak of nature, also being an immortal extra-sentient, one in four million with a hyper-evolved brain and seemingly supernatural abilities.
She had grown up admiring him â okay, worshipping
him. But he didn't need to know the “big brother” vibe, for her, had long ago morphed into a desire to get him alone in the dark.
Jack flexed his shoulders and cocked his head.
Then go fix my fire trunks. Until then, you can look at my pink-flower-covered arse.
Cassie arched a brow and occupied herself with the controls.
Are you going to ski, or not?
Ski.
