Preacher (SEAL Team Tier 1 Book 2), page 1
PREACHER
SEAL TEAM TIER 1
BOOK 2
ZOE DAWSON
Preacher
Copyright © 2022 by Karen Alarie
Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Squad Glossary
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
Glossary
About the Author
OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, especially Lisa Fournier and William Passmore for their excellent help. As always, you guys are the best.
My prey is praying.
The Hunter by Adam Jensen
SQUAD GLOSSARY
Ruckus’s Squad – Tier 2 Operators
Books 1-8
Lieutenant Ruckus “Bowie” Cooper
Ashe “Kid Chaos” Wilder
Wes “Cowboy” McGraw
Thorn “Tank” Hunt – MWDs: Echo and Bronte
Ocean “Blue” Beckett
Arlo “Scarecrow” Porter
Orion “Wicked” Cross
Jude “Hollywood” Lock
Fast Lane’s Squad
Books 9-16
Ryuu “Dragon” Shannon
Errol “Pitbull” Ballentine
Atticus “Hemingway” Sinclair
Max “Mad Max” Keegan – MWD: Juggernaut, (Jugs)
Oliver “Artful Dodger” Graham
Neo “2-Stroke” Teller
Zach “Saint” Bartholomew
Lieutenant Ford “Fast Lane” Nixon
Rock’s Squad
Books 17-24
Lieutenant Adrian “Rock” Lane (Previous CO)
Milo “Professor” Prescott
Lieutenant Elias “Joker” Jackman (Current CO)
Zephirin “Gator” LaBauve
Callen “Blitz” Berenger
Andrew (Drew) “D-Day” Nolan
Mateo “Zorro” Martinez
Sam “Buck” Buckard
Dakota “Bear” Locklear – MWD: Flint
Iceman’s Squad – Tier 1 Operators
Books 1-8
Master Chief Christopher (Kit) “Iceman” Snow
Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael
Remington “GQ” Nash
Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta
Archer “Hazard” Booth
Cooper (Skully) “Skull” Sullivan – MWD: Bonesaw (Bones)
Carter “Boomer” Findley
Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin
Tex’s Squad - Tier 2 Operators
Books 1-8
Lieutenant Michael “Tex” Penn
Angelo “Bondo” Zane
Matthew “Easy” Hitchcock
Bale “Shark” Maddox
Shane “Twister” Reeves
Kade “Dagger” Hollis
Christian “Brawler” Beckett - MWD: Beast
Jae “Flash” Shaw
For all the lost ones who with courage find their way home.
1
Virginia Beach, Virginia
The tapping, beeping sound woke Remington “GQ” Nash up. He had always been a light sleeper, except for some reason during deployment. He could sleep like the dead with his combat naps; maybe it was because he knew his brothers would always have his back. He heard the distinctive sound a phone makes when taking a picture. WTF? He opened his eyes to find the woman he had been with last night tippy tapping on her phone.
“Did you just take my picture while I was sleeping?”
“Yeah, just your sweet ass and back. What’s the problem?” Yeesh, these women he was meeting lately had no idea of boundaries. He took the phone out of her hand.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
She was outraged he would dare touch her phone. The irony was not lost on him. He clicked on her camera and gallery. There he was in all his glory and not just his ass and back. There were full frontals while he was asleep. Talk about creepy. He quickly deleted them. “Don’t take my picture without my permission and text it to your girlfriends or fucking Tik Tok.”
“Geez,” she said, pushing back the blankets. “You’re a sensitive guy.”
“It’s just simple decency, Tiffany. Don’t you get boundaries and that you crossed them? I’m a flesh-and-blood man, not some fodder for social media.”
“I was just telling my friends how much you look like Chris Evans.”
He stared at her, annoyance rising in him. Not this again. For once, just fucking once, he would like a woman to look at him and see him, or see past his looks to his very intelligent, analytical brain, not see some carbon copy of a superhero from the Marvel Universe and pop culture icon.
“You know, Captain America?”
“I got it,” he growled as he pushed back the covers and stalked toward the bathroom.
She sighed and said, “You sure do. You really are quite beautiful.”
“That’s just it, Tiffany. You think stroking my ego is important to me.” If she’d wanted ego, she should have chosen someone else, there were plenty of guys who had a healthy view of themselves.
“Everyone wants to know they look good,” she said defensively, obviously miffed he wasn’t flattered by her picture-taking and bragging about her conquests of him. Also, it was a cue for him to reciprocate in kind. Here she was, this beautiful, five-foot-five powerhouse of shallowness, not remorseful at all about exploiting him while he was sleeping, and no apology for violating his personal space. He had hoped differently and maybe it was his curse to find women without substance. “I hang out in SEAL bars for a reason. You guys always look good.” She had her bra and panties on, and she was pulling on her pretty see-through white shirt, then her skirt.
He looked away. Those words were always triggers for him, transporting him back to his childhood when his mother had told him his looks got him everything he wanted, but there was no substance. He was just like his philandering, conman of a father. Looked like him, was like him. GQ knew it wasn’t true. He knew he was nothing like the man he barely remembered, the slick, slippery eel his mom detested. Unfortunately, she used him as her personal punching bag for all his father’s flaws, shortcomings, and abandonment.
Poor Tiffany. The only things she seemed to understand about his legendary breed were how good he looked naked and his perfect features. She had no idea that he was honed like a knife’s edge to not only counter fire, but to throw some lead of his own. He used the Laws of Combat in everything he did. Those laws were not just about surviving, but thriving, dominating the enemy, and winning. It was all about winning, every time, whether it was a five-foot menace with a camera or a dangerous dude with an AK.
“Tiffany. How would you feel if I took pictures of you naked and shared them with my team, and we got off on the fact that you’re a woman we’d all love to fuck? Would you find that acceptable?”
She stared at him for a moment, then looked away. He was halfway through the mission of getting an apology and making her understand what she had done was wrong.
“N-no. I see your point.” She shoved her feet into her strappy sandals. “I shouldn’t have taken your picture while you were sleeping.”
He nodded and headed toward the bathroom again, but then he heard the sound of her phone taking his picture. He swore softly and turned, but she was already out the door. It slammed on his failure to correctly assess and understand her response. She had grasped that taking pictures of him while he slept wasn’t cool. But she seemed to think it was all right to take them when he was awake.
He shook his head. He hoped she got a good picture of his ass, because right now he felt like a colossal idiot. Okay, alcohol and horny didn’t mix well. He did his business and turned to look at his butt in the mirror. Okay, he had a really fine backside. He burst out laughing. Captain America didn’t have anything on these glutes. Fuck Chris Evans.
He heard his phone chime. That meant deployment. At least this would be a good story for the guys. Shallow woman in his life, one. GQ, zero.
Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael drove through the main gate of the Joint Expeditionary Base Little Creek-Fort Story with nothing but a residual cough from his now healed and completely fluid-free lungs. The doctors at the Naval Medical Center Portsmouth were surprised by his rapid and full recovery. It was all that running and physical activity that had given him such strong lungs.
With the memory of his brief stay i
n the hospital in France before he was flown back to Virginia Beach still on his mind, especially the strange and unsettling visit from one of the elusive and elite CIA Shadowguard Luna “Karasu” Shimora, he parked outside the SEAL headquarters where the teams homeported and had their cages filled with their gear.
He was convinced Karasu had wanted to talk to him in private, but the guys had blundered in and ruined the moment. Every attempt to contact her had been fruitless. The number he had for her didn’t work and he suspected CIA Shadowguard discarded their phones after an op to protect against compromise.
Maybe he was a fool and she had moved on and that’s what she wanted to tell him. But those bits and pieces of what had happened in Geneva, Switzerland kept plaguing him. What had exactly happened there? He had been feverish, out of it for the most part, but the ache and hunger for Karasu never seemed to abate. Suddenly feeling things he wasn’t sure it was smart to feel, and wanting things that may be out of his reach, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get her completely out of his heart.
This woman, whom he hadn’t slept with, barely touched, and had only kissed a couple of times. This fierce warrior…assassin whom he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he first met her.
Sobered by that thought, he unclipped his seatbelt and got out of the car.
He didn’t want to assume that he would see Karasu again, but there was a chance. She and her partner Axel “Volk” Beck often worked closely with the team’s embedded CIA liaison, Rose Sinema, who was not only their intelligence person but engaged to their CO, Master Chief Christopher “Iceman” Snow. Maybe it was that chance that kept him holding on to the memory.
He’d relived their last encounter a million times over the last few weeks. He’d been in France laid out flat by a bug in his lungs. She’d made sure he was taken care of. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t care, but there was something else…that look as if there was something final about her goodbye.
He tried to shake it off, but the dread and the loss were only adding to his turmoil.
He sighed, rubbed his face, and looked at his watch.
They could be spun up at any moment, and that included Rose. She was now assigned as their permanent CIA liaison until this mission was complete. Discover who was behind No Safe Haven, the group who had set off three devastating attacks on American and French citizens in Paris only months ago. One directed at an American businessman Aaron Trasker and the Trasker Hotel, one on American Marines at the Arc de Triomphe, and a third on American tourists at the Eiffel Tower. Tragically, Rose’s sister and her husband—newlyweds—had both been killed by the Eiffel Tower suicide bomber.
The agency was working on all assets and information regarding the elusive and dangerous group. It seemed that members were recruited through kidnapping and coercion of loved ones and by the use of an implant injected under the coerced person’s skin with a poison vial and a tracker. It was sophisticated terrorism. He and Karasu had gone to meet with the doctor who had invented the implant at his office in Geneva, Dr. Hans Gruber. His main use of the Gruber Vial, as it was named, was to deliver medication and other helpful drugs through the implant.
He and Karasu had discovered the doctor had been murdered, but Preacher’s resourceful partner had gotten them inside the office to download the doctor’s hard drive. Company analysts were still working on those leads. He still had moments of broken flashbacks where bits and pieces of what happened after they left the Gruber Institute plagued him with tantalizing snatches of…sensual memories. He could never get a handle on them and had to chalk it up to the feverish wishes of a desperate man. His plan was to talk to Rose when he got the chance. He slipped inside and passed the coded, locked door to the cages. Down the hall, just ahead of him, he saw GQ.
“Hey, man,” Preacher said, catching up to him. Needing empty, frivolous conversation to clear out his overheated brain, he nudged the younger man and said, “How did it go last night with the enthusiastic Tiffany?”
The girl, one of many who often hung out at SEAL bars just trying to bag a frogman, wasn’t someone he’d ever pursue, but to each their own. He was attracted to unique, not someone that looked and acted just like every other woman in the room. Someone like Karasu.
His attraction to her was more than physical. Preacher was fascinated by her intelligence, intuition, and playfulness. Karasu meant raven in Japanese, and she was every bit as mysterious and exotic as the wise bird. Tiffany was a sparrow compared to his raven.
He thought GQ was playing the field, seeing what options he had. It seemed like a waste of time. Preacher wasn’t going to say he was the smartest guy in the room, but he often was, except, apparently, when it came to Karasu. So, maybe he didn’t know jack shit.
“She’s a social media instigator,” GQ said with disgust and a roll of his eyes.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Preacher said.
“It’s not,” GQ replied.
“Isn’t that influencer?” Kelly “Breakneck” Gatlin said, coming alongside them.
GQ stopped in the hall, bringing both his teammates to a halt. “Fuck, Break. How the hell do you know about that crap? You don’t even have social media on your phone.”
“Hey, I know shit about the world. I have sisters. Just because I don’t wear out my thumbs texting doesn’t mean I don’t get it.”
GQ put his hands up to his temples and mimed his mind exploding. “Kid, you surprise the hell out of me on a regular basis. Keeps me on my toes.”
Breakneck gave GQ a smug grin. “Good. I like being a man of mystery.”
They entered the ready room, and it was clear Carter “Boomer” Findley heard the last of the conversation. He got that damn gleam in his eye. Breakneck was the Fucking New Guy or FNG and with that title came all the shit the team could throw at him, including the crap jobs no one wanted to do and were always left up to the lowest man on the totem pole.
“What was that? Man of mystery? How so?”
“He surprises me, Boomer. So what?” GQ said.
Preacher was aware one of their pretty boys had little tolerance for bullying and had to wonder why, since GQ didn’t seem like he was the type of guy to be bullied at all. Not that Boomer was a bully. He wasn’t. It was just Team Guy crap and they all participated in it on a regular basis. Everyone loved Breakneck, and like brothers, they had to give the youngest a hard time. There wasn’t a man on this team who didn’t have Break’s back. The kid had dug in and never complained…ever. He did his job and whatever was asked of him. A true SEAL, stoic and competent at a very young age. Break was an old soul.
But that wasn’t surprising. Preacher saw it often in the men he served with. Break had been their top choice from Green Team, and they’d been lucky to have the first pick, because when Ice took him off the roster, there were a lot of disappointed Tier One master chiefs that day.
“Wait. Does this have anything to do with the straphanger you took home last night, pretty boy?” Boomer said with a wide grin.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, it does.” GQ walked to the table and pulled out a chair. “She took pictures of me in full frontal while I was sleeping.”
“No shit,” Boomer said, slapping the table with the flat of his hand with a hard laugh. “Were you saluting at the time?”
GQ grabbed his package and hefted it. “I’m always saluting, man. Have big dick, will travel.” He sat down with a smirk.
“This is an interesting conversation to walk in on,” Iceman said as Jayesh “Kodiak” Lyta, Archer “Hazard” Booth, Cooper “Skull” Sullivan and their MWD Bones walked in with him. All four of them were smiling. Taking a seat toward the head of the table, Ice turned his chair to look at GQ, while their three other teammates took other open seats.
