Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5 Read online

  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!

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books By Samantha Cole

  Connect With Me

  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.

  Chapter 2

  Fourteen Years Ago

  “Dude, there she is.”

  Curt didn’t know who or what Eric was talking about because he was too busy checking out the new SEAL bunnies who’d shown up at The Clamshell, a bar near the Little Creek, Virginia naval base. There were two categories of bunnies—chicks who wanted to bang a SEAL for bragging rights, and those who wanted to marry one of the elite men. Curt was only interested in the ones in the former group. One-night-stands, maybe a few-night-stands and then move on. At twenty-five, he had no desire to settle down anytime soon.

  His buddy smacked his upper arm. “Dude, whatta think?”

  “About what?” He winked at a cute, curvy blonde giving him the eye. When she giggled and blushed, he knew he’d found tonight’s conquest. While some of the team had gone to a local BDSM club they frequented when the team was INCONUS, a few others had come here instead. Curt had no problem with his teammates being in the lifestyle, he just didn’t get the whole concept of it. Yeah, a pair of handcuffs and blindfold could definitely make an evening fun. If a woman wanted to put the cuffs on him and cover his eyes while she sucked him off before riding him cowgirl style, then who was he to complain? But he didn’t care for the Master/submissive
thing.

  “That chick, Dana, I told you about.” Eric stood and waved over the crowd. He raised his voice to be heard over the music blaring from the jukebox and the chatter going on around them. “Hey, Dana! Over here!”

  Turning his head to see who his friend was yelling at, Curt spotted an attractive brunette weaving through the bar full of patrons on her way to their table. “That’s the chick with the flat tire you helped fix this morning? Bow-chicka-wow-wow. Damn, bro, why doesn’t shit like that happen to me with hotties like that? I get the old grannies.”

  “Shut up, asshole,” Eric warned in a low voice just before the pretty, young woman reached them. Being a gentleman, Curt stood as Eric greeted her. “Hey, Dana. Glad you could make it. This is my buddy, Curt Bannerman…aaaaaand, I just realized I didn’t get your last name earlier.”

  She smiled at Eric, before holding her hand out to Curt. “It’s Goodman. Dana Goodman. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here, darling.” Now that she was right in front of him, he saw her eyes were the color of milk chocolate. She stood about five-foot-eight and had curves that would have most heterosexual males drooling over her. Glancing around, he saw a lot of the guys ogling her ass and he was tempted to ask her to turn around, so he could check it out himself. Down boy. Your buddy saw her first. Bros before hoes.

  Eric pulled out a chair for her. “Here. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Elmer grab the waitress so we can get Dana a drink.”

  Holy crap. Curt eyed his friend with amusement. He’d never seen the guy this nervous around a woman before. Hell, he had never seen him this nervous in combat for fuck’s sake. Flagging their waitress, he ordered the rum and coke which Dana asked for and two more beers. Eric was going to need one to chill out.

  “Why Elmer?”

  “Huh? Oh.” He took a quick swig of his beer before explaining it to her. “It’s my call sign. Back in basic training, I scored the highest in firearms. Our drill instructor asked me where I learned to shoot and I told him I’d been hunting rabbits since I was a kid. So he dubbed me Elmer, as in Elmer Fudd…huntin’ wabbits.”