Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Expanded edition, with Annie's POV, 15,000 more words, new twist, more emotion. This is a full length novel, 60,000 words. New Adult Romantic Thriller. This book is intended for readers 18+. I’ll be honest with you—I’m no hero. Sure, the media tries to brand every Navy SEAL as some kind of Batman dressed in cammies. There’s even a line in one of our cadences: Superman is the man of steel, he ain’t no match for Navy SEAL. You’ve seen the movies—we’re infallible, invaluable, invincible. But that night, the one you read about in the papers … all I really wanted to do was get laid. One harmless fuck with an Aruban whore, no strings attached. I picked her out of a lineup—wild, dark hair, long legs and a crooked smile. After she sucked me off, I relaxed back onto the creaky, cum-stained cot, thankful for the blissful moments she gave me when I actually forgot for a second the faces of my buddies who died because I made the wrong call, the tears of the children I couldn’t save, and the eyes of the enemies I slaughtered during their last seconds of life. But before I left, her hazel eyes peered into my soul. She whispered in a distinct Californian accent, “My name is Annie Hamilton. I’m an American citizen. I was kidnapped on spring break five years ago. You’re my last hope. Please save me.” One desperate plea. This wasn’t a Hollywood blockbuster or a New York Times best-selling thriller. I knew this time there was no room for excuses, no margin for errors. I had one chance to put on the cape and be her hero.

I’ll be honest with you—I'm no saint. Sure, when I turned down my 3.6 million dollar football contract to join the SEAL Teams, the media had a field day. Selfless, patriotic, an American hero. But the God's honest truth was that I was bored with that world, the playboy lifestyle, the ass kissing, the lack of integrity. There’s even a line in one of our cadences: “When I go to heaven St. Peter he will say ‘Did you earn your living? Did you earn your pay?’ My reply was with a little bit of thunder ‘I earned my living killing down under.’” You've read the tabloids—I'm infallible, invincible, invaluable. But it wasn't that deep—I just wanted some action. A one night stand with a San Diego coed, no promise for tomorrow. I picked her out of a steamy nightclub—sexy blonde hair, curvy hips, nice ass. After she rode me all night, I took in the ocean view from my condo, thankful for the blissful moments she gave me to get me through my long deployment—I savored the warm touch of a woman, the scent of her perfume and the sound of her laughter. As fate would have it, I crossed paths with Miss San Diego again, halfway across the world in Afghanistan. Turns out she was a professional cheerleader sent on a USO tour to entertain my Team. Her convoy was ambushed, and insurgents held her hostage deep in the mountains. I'd gazed into her beautiful blue eyes and given her my word that she'd be safe. And my word is my bond. I'll never win MVP, never get the championship ring, but some heroes don't play games.

Infallible I’ll be honest with you—I’m not perfect. Sure, I live my life by the code. Honor, integrity, loyalty. I’m a lover, I’m a fighter. There’s a line we say in BUD/S: Clarity is in the eyes, love is in the heart, and fear is in the mind. I’m a mother fucking Navy SEAL—I'm invincible, invaluable, infallible. But behind all the machismo and hype, I’m a simple man . . . all I really want is a woman to claim as mine. A summer affair—washed away with the ebb and flow of the tides. I met her on dog beach—flowing red hair, full breasts, hypnotic scent. After we made love in the sand, I pretended that she was mine forever—that she would be faithful while I was gone, supportive of my career, loving to my daughter. But we’d built our relationship on lies—I’d never told her I was a SEAL, she’d kept her past hidden from me. She’d had a man, if you could call him that. He was cruel, abusive, controlling. She’d fled, determined to start a new life, but he’d found her, and would stop at nothing to get her back—dead or alive. But he didn’t count on meeting me. I lived by the sword, would die by the sword. I am the person who everyone knows will lay down my life for someone else. Failure is not an option. I may not be perfect, but I am perfect for her.