Forever Protectors Series
Navy SEALs don't eat blueberry scones. We fight, we f**k, we blow stuff up. Above all, we protect our own. It's our duty and honor to defend the ones we love. Our stories aren't neat or pretty. There's cussing, sex, and alpha-male badassery. If you're looking for bakeries and sweet nothings, you're in the wrong place. You've been warned.
The elite special operators of Monroe Protection Corp (MPC) don't see as much combat action as they did during active duty as Navy SEALs.
They see infinitely more.
With higher danger levels and more powerful enemies, the United States military relies on MPC to execute the high-risk covert ops no other team is brave or skilled enough to handle.
Saving the world from injustice hardens a man's soul to the point he loses hope in the luxury of happily ever after.
Only a select group of badass women have what it takes to blast through their boundaries and heal their restless hearts.
The Forever Protector series documents the journeys of the men and women of MPC as they engage in the most important battles of their lives. If they succeed, they win the spoils of victory; intense passion and eternal love.
Vander's Honor (Forever Protectors Book One)
Falling in love with a spy was not part of the plan.
Retired Navy SEAL Vander Monroe never lets his guard down when he's on a mission. Nothing can break through his rock-solid wall of self-control, skill, and discipline. He has no intention of allowing his alluring captive to seduce him, and yet he caves on her first attempt. He vows to stay away from the mysterious woman he suspects is a Russian agent. He's compromised and she's dangerous. When Misha sacrifices herself to save his brother, she draws him in again, and he finds himself making a new pledge. He promises to protect her no matter what.
Misha Usayev uses men's weaknesses to get the job done. She's trained to be a ruthless killer and soulless vessel. Forced into a dangerous life as a Russian spy, she can't form attachments. Her every move is calculated and shadowed in secrecy. But Vander makes her want to risk everything to climb out of the darkness. He tempts her with the possibility of a future where they could be together in the light. But if she allows him to see her true self, he'll end up dead, and she can't let that happen. Misha and Vander can never be anything more than a dream.
Vander's Honor is a romantic saga filled with international intrigue and steamy passion that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
Vander's Honor Working Chapters: Please comment and share your thoughts.
"They whispered to the warrior, you cannot withstand the storm. The warrior whispered back, I am the storm." — Unknown
My soul shriveled as he pumped his tiny dick.
His grunt into my neck told me it was over.
At least it never lasted long.
He pulled out without kissing me. "I have to leave right away."
And he usually left quickly after.
Did that make it any better? No. Nothing could take this stain off me. I'd wear it like a scar for the rest of my life.
Clark Duran, a vile Colombian drug lord, pulled on his ugly tighty whities and a pair of black pants that barely closed around his protruding belly.
I wiped off with the sheet and quickly dressed.
"Where are you going?" I asked him as I slipped on my red heels.
His moustache twisted with his smirk. "I shouldn't tell you this, but we've captured an American and I'm holding him prisoner."
"Oh." What a wretched, dreadful man. "You seem excited about this."
He nodded as he buttoned up his shirt over the dingy tank top he never removed and the tasteless gold chains around his neck. "He should pull in a respectable ransom."
Ransom for an American? Clark was taking his crime ring to a whole new level. "Do you need more money, Clark? Aren't you already the wealthiest man in Colombia?"
He straightened his pinky ring with a snake imprinted on it. "The more money, the better off my children will be."
That's right. Clark Duran did everything "for his children." Or so he said. My impression was that pure greed and power motivated him.
He kissed my lips and bile rose in my throat. "I love you, carina."
"I love you too, Clark." I was dead inside. Sometimes I wished I would be exposed, so I could have an excuse to die. I'd come close to doing it myself, but it was the one murder I could not carry out.
I lived a miserable existence, but I didn't want to die. Some intrinsic part of my psyche couldn't relinquish the will to live.
Clark pointed to a young man standing outside my window. "I'm putting four guards on your villa."
"I feel like I'm being followed."
Ah, the ubiquitous paranoia that came with a life of crime.
"When will I see you again?" I twirled my finger over the coarse gray hair above his ear hoping he'd say months. A year would be nice.
"Two weeks, my sweet Skyler."
I hated the name Skyler, particularly from his mouth, but always. I was not Skyler. I was Misha. Whoever she was.
"Can't wait." We embraced, his belly poking my groin since I was taller than him with my heels on. I leaned down so he could kiss me with his wrinkled lips.
He turned and left without saying goodbye.
I locked the door behind him and sat on the end of the bed fighting the turmoil in my heart. How much longer could I keep up this ruse?
I'd give anything to fly away from here and start a new life where Russia and the Agency didn't exist. I'd be a normal girl with everyday problems. Going on dates in the city, ordering a latte in a coffee shop, maybe working in an office somewhere having a torrid affair with the boss. Not this facade of a woman who wasn't even sure who she was without a disguise.
A scratch outside my window caught my attention. I peeked out in time to see Clark's guard collapse with a thud, his head bouncing off the pavement, his eyes wide and unstaring, a line of blood seeping from his slashed neck. My peripheral vision picked up the movement of a shadow, but I didn't see it so much as I felt it.
Someone was out there.
Who? It could be one of Clark's many enemies or perhaps it was the Americans looking to retaliate for the kidnapping. Americans did not mess around and Clark was playing with fire.
I flew into fight mode, grabbed my rifle, and took up a defensive position next to the bed. I had a full magazine locked and loaded in ten seconds. No one would get through that door without a bullet in his head.
"He added four guards." I spoke to my team through the mic in my ear as Clark Duran left his mistress's villa.
"So we take 'em out," Magnum, my second-in-command replied casually.
"Shit." We'd planned to capture her quietly and move out without being noticed. Gunshots in the early morning hours would wake the neighbors and draw too much attention.
As expected, Plan A was dust.
"Got your Kabars?" I pulled my seven-inch military knife from its sheath in my side pocket. Magnum prepared his, and I heard several affirmatives back through my earpiece.
"I'll take west." The man in front of her window would be dead in minutes.
"East," Magnum replied.
"We'll take the two on the south end." Axel and London were positioned around the back of the villa.
Adrenaline flooded through my body, my heartrate picked up, and I struggled to keep my breathing under control.
Finally, it was go-time after weeks of surveillance and waiting.
We'd done this a thousand times. No need to be nervous. But this op was different. It was personal.
My missing brother's life was on the line.
Every move had to be calculated and precise. No room for fuck-ups.
We approached under the cover of the moonless night. Silent footsteps on pavement. My target was young and inattentive. Amateur. An easy kill.
I stepped up behind him, pulled him off balance with an arm around his neck, and then sliced it. I released him and moved off. He fell within a few seconds, no idea what hit him.
Magnum's victim's eyes widened before he faced the same fate.
The unmistakable sound of two other throats being sliced followed in my earpiece.
Magnum and I stepped over the bodies and took up position on opposite sides of the wooden door that was the last barrier between my team and our target.
We all hit the ground as shrapnel pierced the wood.
"We're taking fire," I said breathless. "She was supposed to be in there alone. What the hell?"
"She's alone. She's fucking firing at us," Magnum said.
We couldn't return fire because we needed to take this target alive.
The shooting paused.
"We go non-lethal. Make sure she doesn't bleed out." I took the risk of popping up to look through the window. The glass above my head shattered.
"No shot. No line of sight."
"Stand by," Axel called through the comms. A few seconds later, the lights in the villa clicked off. "Power's cut."
"Excellent." This left her alone in the dark.
I snapped down my night vision goggles. My field of vision turned green. I could see her, but she couldn't see me. "I'm going for it. Cover me."
Magnum stood with his back against the wall and nodded. It was an insane plan, but the only move we had.
"I'll provide a distraction from the rear," Axel said.
"Ready?" I asked as I adjusted my rifle over my back. "Three, two, one!"
Magnum kicked the door at the hinge and it swung open. She fired wildly as I rounded the entry corner on my belly, keeping low and tight to the wall.
The back of the house rocked with an explosion.
I was almost to her.
My knee struck something and a lamp crashed to the floor.
Her torso swayed in my direction.
Shots blew past my head as I scrambled to get to her before she hit me.
She paused to listen and I quieted my breathing, but the scrape of my pants on the carpet gave me away.
She fired, and ow, fuck, pain burned through my arm. "Son of a bitch, motherfucker."
Pain streaked through my arm as we collided and slammed into the wall.
I dislodged her rifle and tossed it, pulling some of her hair with it.
We grappled in a tight corner beside the bed.
With a feral growl, sharp claws swiped a long track down my neck. I grabbed her wrist and forced it over her head.
Taking advantage of my injury, she bent her shoulder and twisted out of my grasp.
What a little pain in my ass this one was.
In a very ungraceful move, I knocked her to her stomach by smashing my torso to her back.
She grunted and screamed as she kicked her heels into my back and rammed her elbow into my injured arm, wild hair flying all over.
What a fucking hellcat. Fighting to avoid capture despite being pinned and covered by a team of armed operators.
I'd totally underestimated this woman. A major screw up we couldn't afford.
Magnum kneeled on her ankles. "Need help there, Stud?"
"Shut up and get her out of here." I stood and backed away from her.
Magnum flipped her to her back and pinned her wrists over her head. She dug her nails into his gloves and hissed.
"Down, gatita." Magnum called her the Spanish word for kitten.
She spit in his face.
The woman was no kitten. She was a rabid T-Rex who'd just tried to kill me.
I motioned for Jade, our only female operator on this mission, to assist Magnum. She struggled to zip-tie the woman's wrists and ankles.
When Jade lifted her by her armpits, she went limp, her ass hanging low and knees bent. She braced all her weight on the tips of the tall stiletto heels she'd managed to keep on during our tussle.
Magnum tucked a shoulder into her chest and lifted her in a fireman's carry. He smiled as he jogged out with her writhing body around his shoulders, red heels kicking to break free.
Not fucking funny.
Not at all.
This hellcat was our key to finding my brother.
And it was my job to break her.
Back at the safe house outside Cartegena, Jade walked the woman to a room we'd prepared for her. It had the basics. A bed, bathroom, and bars over the windows.
In the kitchen, London, our team medic, injected a local anesthetic and patched up the flesh wound beneath my left bicep. "You're lucky she's a bad shot."
"I don't think she is." For the entire thirty-minute ride to the safe house, the woman seethed as she sat with Jade on a bench across from me. My blood smeared her clothes. Strands of stray hair fell into her face, and yet she still wore her heels like she was royalty. She wasn't pretentious and acting elite, it was who she was. Red heels belonged on her feet like a rifle belonged in my hands. "If the lights were on or she had NVG, we'd all be dead."
"She was quite impressive," he said, his British accent making the compliment seem polite.
In any other situation, I'd share some admiration of her skills with him. However, she'd tried to kill me, and it was sheer chance that bullet didn't penetrate my face or neck instead of grazing my bicep. I wouldn't forget or forgive. No one had ever shot at me and survived for long.
"She's lucky to be alive after that bullshit. Many times I held back from shooting her myself."
London finished working and started applying ointment and a bandage to my wound. "But she's our key to Duran. Hopefully he's chatty after he blows his load." He tossed some supplies in the trash as he packed up his kit.
"We underestimated her. She's not just some woman who has Duran by the balls. She's trained. Why did he put four guards on her?"
"I liked her too." Magnum walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water.
"Oh really? She won you over by spitting in your face and digging her nails into you?" I asked.
He laughed and walked out again. "Yeah."
Magnum better keep his distance from my hostage. He earned his nickname by going through condoms faster than the store on base could supply them. We didn't need his dick in the middle of all of this.
"Even if we knew why Duran was guarding her, it's irrelevant." London returned to the previous conversation. "All that matters is what she knows about Steele. Stay focused on the mission."
Right. The woman was distracting me, but I couldn't get over how she was so different from what I'd expected.
"I am absolutely focused on the mission. It's the only reason she's alive right now." I glared at the door to the room where Jade was working with her. She would play the good cop by offering her food, clothes, comfort. Then I'd come in and remind her who she was dealing with.
Deep cover black ops by contractors like us had completely different rules of engagement from an active-duty SEAL team. No protocols or paperwork. Normally I'd go easy on a woman, but when this one tried to kill me, she became just like any other enemy. She'd get no mercy from me.
"Don't stress that wound or get it dirty," London warned.
"I'm serious. We don't need you down with gangrene."
"It's not gonna get infected. I'll be fine by tomorrow."
He pressed his lips into a flat line and held his tongue on what he wanted to say. I knew how to take care of a wound, and I knew exactly what to do with the hellcat in the other room.
When Jade opened the door, the woman sat back in a chair and crossed her ankles. At the end of long legs covered in black slacks, her red heels remained on her feet. She still looked savage with wild hair and my blood staining her blouse.
At first she didn't recognize me. She'd only seen me wearing head gear and a full kit. I'd taken it off now and was dressed in gray cargo pants with a black tee. After a few moments, she tensed and her face contorted into a death glare.
Jade stood next to the door and dipped her chin to acknowledge me.
"Anything?" I spoke to Jade but kept eye contact with the woman. Jade had a rare talent for befriending people and convincing them to spill their guts. This was a skill I lacked, but I excelled at persuasion by physical fear and intimidation. We worked well as a complementary team.
She shook her head. "Nothing yet."
"Como se llama?" I asked the woman her name in Spanish.
"Eat shit and die."
My head jolted back at her smartass answer. Did this woman have a death wish? She was completely at my mercy and pushing the envelope, daring me to come back at her.
But she'd answered in English with an American accent, which was very odd. She looked every bit the part of a beautiful Colombian. "You speak English?"
She uncrossed her legs and spread them, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "You the smart one of the group?"
All right. I'd had enough of her mouth. She needed to understand who she was dealing with. In two steps, I was in front of her with my weapon drawn. Before she could react, I forced her off the chair with my uninjured arm and pressed her face-down in the bed with my knee in the small of her back. I held the gun to her temple and overextended her arm until she groaned in pain.
"Let me explain something to you. Your life and your body are in my hands. If I decided to remove your teeth with pliers or nail you to a post and slice your skin off in layers, I'll do it without hesitation. Many men have left this room crying like babies and drowning in their own blood. Don't think for a second I won't hurt you because you're a woman. You tried to kill me and I'm eager to return the favor, so for the sake of your teeth and your skin, I'd advise you to keep a lid on that shit and choose words you think I'd like to hear. Understood?"
"Yes." She gasped and I released her.
"Get some sleep, Eat Shit and Die. Might be your last chance for a while." We'd start on her at sunrise, so we had three hours max to get some shuteye.
She didn't respond. Good choice.
"No escape attempts. Jade will stay in your room and she's a brilliant sharpshooter." Jade stared at her and patted the stock of her rifle. "The entire unit is wired and guarded by men who won't hesitate to shoot you."
She sat up and braced her torso on her palms. "Then why didn't you shoot me tonight?" Her voice dripped with desperation, like she wished I had killed her.
I turned and walked out. "You got lucky."