Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5

BOOK: Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5
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Whiskey Tribute

A Trident Security Novella - Book 5.5

By Samantha A. Cole

 

Whiskey Tribute

Copyright (c) 2016 Samantha A. Cole

All Rights Reserved.

Whiskey Tribute
is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Front Cover Designed by Samantha A. Cole

Edited by Eve Arroyo - http://www.evearroyo.com/

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed
in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate
in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's
rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Any information regarding persons or places has been used with
creative literary license so there may be discrepancies between fiction and reality.
The Navy SEALs missions and personal qualities within have been created to
enhance the story and, again, may be exaggerated and not coincide with reality.

The author has full respect for the members of the United
States Military and the varied members of law enforcement and thanks them for
their continuing service to making this country as safe and free as possible.

Dedication

To my readers…thank you for asking for more stories from my
characters!

 
Acknowledgements

As always, I want to thank the following:

My beta readers;

My editor, Eve;

My Facebook group, The Sexy-Six-Pack Sirens;

My family;

My friends;

And most of all, my readers!

Chapter 1

Flush
against the wall of the shed separating his teammate and him from their sworn
enemy, Curt ‘Elmer’ Bannerman peeked around the corner, searching for a target.
There was nobody in sight, but it didn’t mean they weren’t out there. There
were plenty of places to hide, so the tangos could be anywhere. Glancing at his
partner, standing stoically beside him, weapon in hand, he cocked his head
toward their destination. “We’re going to make a run for that boulder over
there. Keep low. Ready?”

The response he got was a nod of the head and a muttered “yup.”

“Count of three. One. Two. Three. Go!”

Zig-zagging across the expanse, they were almost to safety
when he realized he’d run them right into an ambush.
Shit!
He blocked
his partner with his bigger body, ready to defend with his life, and was hit
dead in the chest by an exploding projectile. Stunned he’d been caught with his
proverbial pants down, he grabbed his sternum and fell to his knees.

“I got you!”

Cheers were followed by laughter and giggles as the Prichard
kids all came out of hiding and bombarded him with snowballs while celebrating
nine-year-old Justin’s successful throw, which took down the former Navy SEAL.
Even his partner, six-year-old Amanda, had turned traitorous and dropped her
snowball on his head.

“Ouch! Come here, you.” He playfully reached for the little
pixie, but she ran behind her second oldest brother, ten-year-old Taylor, for
protection, squealing the whole way. Twelve-year-old Ryan and his brothers
continued to pelt Curt with snowballs, so he let Amanda get away, then rolled
to his feet and quickly returned fire, making sure he didn’t hit anyone in the
head.

Their mother, Dana, stuck her head out the back door of the
old farmhouse, which was no longer part of a farm, aside from a few chickens
and one cocky rooster. “Dinner’s ready! Come and get it!”

The kids whooped it up in unison. Apparently they’d worked up
appetites, which were as big as Curt’s own. He knew Dana had made her famous
beef stew, and his mouth was watering just knowing it was inside waiting for
them. Or maybe it was the chef who was making his mouth water.
Knock it off,
asshole. She’s your best friend’s wife and, therefore, off-limits.

While the kids ran inside, Curt ambled over to where his old
teammate, Marco ‘Polo’ DeAngelis, was stacking the last of the firewood the two
of them had cut up before the kids had come out to play. They’d made the trip
up to Stormville, Iowa, yesterday from Florida. Marco from Tampa and Curt from
Daytona Beach. As retired Navy SEALs from Team Four, they were taking care of
the family of one of their own—one of the fallen. Eric Prichard, Curt’s best
friend since basic training, had been murdered by an assassin over a year ago,
in what had originally looked like a hit-and-run accident.

Eric had been doing his evening run when he was struck and
killed by an unknown vehicle. It was later learned that seven former members of
Team Four had been targeted because of a mission they’d been on years ago.
Three of the seven had been killed before the rest of them figured things out
and the threat was eliminated. Curt didn’t know all of the details, as the
resulting investigation was deemed classified by the government. But his former
lieutenant, and Marco’s current boss at Trident Security, Ian Sawyer, had
discreetly let him know Eric’s death had been avenged—justice had been served.

Immediately following Eric’s funeral, a bunch of his former
teammates had put together a rotating schedule. Twice a month, two of them
would head up here and stay at a local motel. They would then spend the weekend
doing everything around the house and property Eric could no longer do for his
family. A new roof had been put up, the main bathroom had been renovated, and
the landscaping was tended to. If there was nothing pressing that needed to be
done, whoever’s weekend it was would do something fun with the family, like
camping or a trip to Six-Flags. Today, Marco and he had spent the morning
making fast work of painting little Amanda’s room pink and purple. She’d been
making it known for several weeks she was now too big for the Winnie the Pooh
theme she’d had for the past four years.

Curt approached his buddy while brushing the snow from his
blond hair. “Hand me the axes. I’ll put them in the shed. You’re looking a
little hypothermic there, Polo.”

“Ya think?” the man snorted, his Staten Island accent coming
through. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here. I knew there was a reason I
moved to the Sunshine State.”

Chuckling, Curt bent over and pulled one of the axes out of
the old tree stump they’d used, then took the one Marco handed him. “I could
get used to it again. You forget—I’m from Montana. This is nothing—a tropical
heat wave.”

“Yeah, well…why don’t you stop ogling the merry widow, tell
her how you feel, and then you can live in the Tropics of Iowa all year round.”

Even though his cheeks were red from the cold, the
six-foot-four, two-hundred-twenty-pound man blushed. Was it that fucking
obvious he had a hard time keeping his eyes in his sockets when Dana was
around?
Shit.
And when the fuck had that started? Yeah, she was
attractive…hell, she was hot—always had been. Even though she still carried
around some of the weight she’d gained during her four pregnancies, her body
still rocked. He loved curvaceous women, and she had an awesome hourglass
figure.
Shit.
Not wanting to admit his friend was right about the
ogling, he lied. “What are you fucking talking about? I’m not interested in
Dana.”

Crossing his arms, Marco rolled his eyes. “Please. Don’t give
me that. You get a goofy, fucking grin on your face every time she walks into
the room. Probably a fucking hard-on, too, but I have no desire to confirm that
by taking a look at your junk. Every time someone can’t make it up here for
their weekend, you’ve been filling in. And don’t tell me it’s because Eric was your
best friend.”

“He is…was…damn it.” Scowling, Curt turned and strode toward
the shed, but Marco followed on his heels.
Damn it
. Why couldn’t his
buddy just drop it? Curt had no business lusting for his best friend’s wife. He
was here to do right by Eric’s family. Nothing more.

“I know he was.” Marco’s voice was stern, but also filled
with sympathy. “But you know better than I do he’d want you to have a good life
without him. Same goes for Dana. I’ve seen the way she looks at you sometimes.
And the kids and you get along great—so what’s the problem? It’s been almost a
year and a half since he was killed. Get off your fucking ass, before someone
steps in and snatches her up.”

What?
Curt saw red and whirled around so fast, Marco
almost got hit in his cold cock with an ax. “Who’s going to snatch her up?
Someone else been eyeing her?”

The bastard had the audacity to smirk. “Thought you weren’t
interested.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Polo. Who the fuck else is interested in
her?”

Clearly finding amusement in Curt’s demeanor, the other man shrugged.
“I don’t know for sure, but Egghead mentioned the Sheriff seemed to be sniffing
around a lot when he was up here two weeks ago.” Brody ‘Egghead’ Evans was Marco’s
best friend and teammate at Trident Security, as well as a former member of
Team Four, and was the biggest computer geek in the world—or close to it.

“Fuck that shit.” His gaze went to the rear entrance of the
house, and the thought of Dana in another man’s arms had his blood boiling. He
should have known she was going to have guys chasing after her someday, but not
this soon. Years ago, he’d promised Eric that if anything happened to him, he
would watch over Dana and make sure she and the kids stayed safe and protected.
And it was a promise he intended to keep.

Marco slapped him on the shoulder before taking the axes from
him. “So, you gonna man-up and tell her how you feel?”

Curt nodded, his eyes never leaving the backdoor. If it kept
the other sharks at bay, he’d do what he had to. “Damn, fucking straight.”

“About fucking time.”

But the moment he stepped into the country kitchen and saw
Dana ladling the stew into bowls for everyone, his courage fled. Eric was still
here—in every picture, every expression on his children’s faces, and in every
beat of Dana’s heart. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lust after his best
friend’s wife. Not now…and not even ten years from now. All he could do was
keep everything platonic and be her go-to guy when she needed help with
anything.
It sucked being a man who always did the right thing.

* * *

“Uncle Curtsy, can you read me a bedtime story before you
leave?”

He ignored Marco’s smug grin at the nickname Amanda had been
calling him since she’d first been able to say his name. It was embarrassing
sometimes, but when his god-daughter looked up at him with those big brown eyes
of hers, he just melted. “Sure, sweetheart. Go brush your teeth like your momma
told you, and then pick out a book.”

Smiling, she ran to the bathroom. The boys were in their
bedrooms playing video games as the two men finished putting the last of
Amanda’s bedroom furniture back where it belonged. Dana had put the new sheets
and comforter on the bed, and planned on putting the new curtains up tomorrow.
At the moment, she was doing another load of laundry. It amazed him how many
clothes four kids could go through in a matter of days.

“So you chickened out,
huh
?”

He’d been wondering when his friend was going to say
something. All through dinner, his guilt had been eating at him. He was an
asshole, lusting after another man’s wife…and not just any man, but one who’d
saved his life on a mission gone FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—in
Afghanistan. “Shove it, Polo. She’s not ready, and even if she was, I can’t get
past the fact she belongs to Eric.”

Marco sighed heavily. “Belonged, man. Past tense.”

Pushing a white, straight-back chair under its matching desk,
Curt scowled at the other man. “You know, you’re the last person I expected to
hear shit from about this. Mister I’m-never-getting-married-and-having kids.”

The man’s childhood had been shitty and the only family he
truly had, besides his brothers-in-arms, had been his sister, Nina, who’d
passed away of cancer over a year ago. Marco had taken it really rough, and it
was a good thing his teammates had been on his six, watching his back and
getting him out of his funk.

“Hey, just because I don’t want it for me, doesn’t mean I
don’t want my friends to find someone to love.” He glanced out the bedroom door
to make sure there were no kids lurking about and lowered his voice a little.
“But that’s what I like about the lifestyle. I can get my rocks off, have a
temporary relationship with an end date, and give a woman the care she needs,
and what I need to give. Nothing drastic and then I move on. But that’s not
you, man. You’re missing out on something real here. Just because I’m not
walking down the aisle doesn’t mean I don’t recognize when two people belong
together.”

Curt knew all about the BDSM lifestyle his buddy was talking
about, but it had never been for him…or Eric. While neither of them had a
problem with some of their teammates going to clubs like that, and even owning
one, they hadn’t felt the draw to it the others did. Vanilla sex, with the
occasional slap and tickle, was fine with him. He just didn’t get into the
whole Dominant/submissive thing. “Yeah, well, I get the feeling there’s some
chick out there that’s going to turn your world upside down and slap-shit
forward. And I’m going to laugh my ass off when it happens. As for me and
Dana…never mind—”

He dropped the rest of the conversation when Amanda came
skipping in and hurried to her bookshelf. Picking a book, she handed it to him
and jumped into her bed, climbing under the fresh sheets. Marco slapped him on
the back as he headed toward the door. “I’ll see if Dana needs anything else
done before we leave. Night, Amanda.”

“Night, Uncle Marco.” Hugging her favorite stuffed rabbit, she
moved to the inside of the twin bed to give him room and then patted the spot
next to her. “Sit here, Uncle Curtsy.”

Doing as he was told, his elbow accidentally knocked over the
5x7 frame on her nightstand. After setting it right, he stared at the photo of
Eric with his then four-year-old daughter on his shoulders. Curt’s gut clenched
a little. Damn, he missed the guy.
Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll take care of
them.

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