Jethro: SEAL Team Alpha, #1

By Sierra Huxley

SEAL Team Alpha, Book 1 

 

Jet Cooper has no time for women and especially not love.  He's too busy serving and protecting as a Tier One Navy SEAL.  Blowing things up and engaging the enemy is what makes for a good day in his world.  But then he saw her.  He's aggressive and bossy and she thinks he's sweet.   Sweet!  Is she trying to ruin his reputation?

 

Alexandra Sherman is independent and rich and a complete disaster with men.  Unwilling to take a chance on any more men, she'll stick with being lonely, until she meets Jethro.  She's never met a man before that cared more about her wellbeing than her money and connections.  Can she convince her SEAL that she's worth making time for?

 

While Alexandra and Jethro's story continues in Jet's Savior and Jet's Reward, this is a standalone novel, although book two delves more deeply into their relationship, but you do not need to read books 2 & 3 to enjoy this story.  Of course I hope you enjoyed the story and want to read more.

 

For readers 18 years and older due to coarse language and sexually explicit scenes.  M/F only, HEA, no cliffhangers.

Novel - 79,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sierra Huxley
• Release date: Apr 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386074380

Sierra Huxley

Sierra Huxley is an avid reader and loves a happy ending.  Stories about her alpha heroes and their feisty, adventurous women kept growing in her head until she was forced to write and now she can’t stop.  Happily married, she’s content to do renovations, because hardware stores are just fun.  When she’s not working at her day job, Sierra also enjoys camping, ATV riding, riding her motorcycle, or fishing.  Fishing is code for reading a book. Contact the author:  [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

Paris

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Jet lay on the bed, fingers laced behind his head and waited.  Gabriel did the same on the other side of the bed.  He hated waiting, but he was good at it.  The difference this time was that he wasn’t inhaling dust, getting eaten by mosquitoes and other unidentified bugs, he wasn’t hot or cold and he wasn’t wet.  So as far as waiting around went this wasn’t a bad assignment.  What made him grind his teeth was that they weren’t supposed to do anything, even when the waiting was over.  Observers only.  The policeman lying on the couch, whom he’d nicknamed Clouseau after butchering the man’s name a few times, was the only one allowed to officially do anything. 

Tell me again why we can’t take this guy out ourselves, he groused to Gabriel already knowing the answer.

Because we’re on French soil and the Paris Police Force didn’t feel they needed extra help to bring in one person, Gabriel explained with exaggerated patience.

They’re going to screw it up.

"Dios.  Keep your voice down."

Look alive people, he just entered the building, Jet’s boss’ voice came through his earbud. 

He was on his feet in seconds all signs of idleness gone.  He verified the secureness of his earbud before he grabbed his gun and headed for the door just to be halted by the police officer’s ‘non’.  He might not speak French, but even he knew the word for no.  Clenching his jaw, he let the officer stand in front of him and crack the door open an inch.  Given the height difference he could see over the man’s head anyway. 

He flicked off the safety to his weapon.  Just because he wasn’t supposed to do anything didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared.  Gabriel standing off to his side did the same.

Alpha 2 and 3 in position, Gabriel keyed his mike and called in.  Jet heard similar calls from other members of the team around the hotel stating their readiness.

The elevator dinged, indicating its arrival to the thirty-second floor.  A moment later the doors rumbled open.  Their target, Petty Officer Ronald Stronach, got off and came straight down the hallway towards them.  The floor had been evacuated while Stronach was out.

Two undercover Paris policemen got off and followed the target.  To Jet’s eyes the cheap suits, erect postures, and too serious faces made them look like the cops they were and he didn’t think their target was fooled for a second.  The thought had barely formed when the petty officer reached inside his coat, pulled a gun, turned and fired.  He caught both officers in the chest.

Jet was moving before the men struck the floor.  Pushing Clouseau out of his way, he exploded into the hallway levelling his weapon on Stronach.  His finger was already squeezing the trigger when she appeared. 

His finger froze and released.  One more millisecond and he would have shot her in the head.

Fuck!  Of all the things he expected to go wrong, the small woman bursting through the stairwell door at a full run right between him and his target was not one of them.

Stronach captured the woman by the neck with a strong arm and opened fire with the other hand.  Jet dove for the open doorway knocking Gabriel and Clouseau back as he went. 

He recovered and turned back to the doorway to peek out.  He pulled back with acceleration when a bullet hit the doorframe causing a wood splinter to fly, narrowly missing his face.  His brief glance was enough to see their target was strangling the woman as he pulled her backwards down the hallway. 

He crouched low and peered out again.  He admired how hard the woman was fighting.  It kept the man from choking her out, or worse killing her.  It also meant Jet couldn’t get a clear shot without shooting her.

The petty officer rounded a corner down another hallway and disappeared from view.  He rushed after him with Gabriel at this heels.  Clouseau followed, but stopped to check on his colleagues.  Jet didn’t spare them glance.  He assumed they wore body armor, same as him.  He and Gabriel peeked around the corner, but the hallway was empty of their target.  The woman lay crumpled on the floor a few feet from a stairwell door.

Gabe ran past him keying his mike and giving orders, Alpha 1, be advised the target has entered the north stairwell, could be coming your way.  I’m going down, Alpha 4 work towards me.  Civilian down.  Alpha 3 will render aide.

What the hell Martinez?  You need backup!

Alpha 4 is working his way down from the roof towards me and that woman could be seriously injured.  That’s an order Cooper, Alpha 2 disappeared through the stairwell door.

Jet kicked the steel fire door, cursing under his breath.  Flicking the safety on his weapon he slammed the pistol into his thigh holster and crouched down beside the woman.  He’d no sooner reached out a hand to check on her condition when she screamed.

Or tried to scream.

It was more of a croak, but she was no less terrified of him.  She scrambled backwards crab style until she hit the wall.  He held up both hands in the universal sign of surrender.

Whoa there, ma’am.  U.S. military.  How the hell did he make her understand?  Why hadn’t Gabe stayed?  He spoke French.  United States Navy, he enunciated the words and pointed to himself while she continued to cringe in fear.

Liar, the woman responded with a rough voice in English.

Jet lowered his hands with relief.  At least she understood him even if she thought he was a bad guy.  I swear ma’am.  It’s a special operation with the French police.  Please let me examine you to determine the extent of your injuries.  Is your room on this floor?  Can I call someone for you? 

She stared at him without blinking.  He remained still while he watched her process his words.  Dressed in civilian clothes and no credentials on him, he couldn’t prove to her what he said was true.  After a full minute of returning her stare he ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath unsure how else to convince her.  She finally shook her head.  He didn’t know which question she was shaking her head no to.

Navy?

God her voice sounded awful.  He hoped that bastard Stronach hadn’t done any permanent damage.  Yes, ma’am.  He understood her confusion but didn’t enlighten her.  May I examine you?  He held his position until she finally gave a tentative nod.  He moved in close and gently lifted her chin and inspected her throat.  After some back and forth questions and answers, he didn’t think there was any permanent damage, but keyed his mike requesting a doctor to be sure.  He wasn’t a doctor, just a sometimes field medic that would do in a pinch.  Should have had Alpha 4 here as he was the most skilled field medic of the team.

What were you doing on this floor? he didn’t want to stress her voice, but he needed to know.

I was too keyed up to sleep.  I thought running through the hotel would be safer than running on the streets of Paris at night.  Instead I almost died.  The shock was beginning to hit her.  Her eyes glistened.

Christ, don’t cry! 

In response she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, which did nothing to stop the trembling of her lower lip or the quivering of her chin.  Her eyes judged him as tears tracked down her cheeks.

Idiot!  He knew better than to yell at a crying woman.  Where the hell was Gabriel?  With a wife and three daughters, Gabe knew how to deal with distraught women.

She knuckled away the tears from one eye, whispering her question to him, You’re not very good at this are you?

Hell no!

She half laughed and half sobbed.  Jet winced.  Her abused vocal cords made the sound harsh and unpleasant.  What would her real laugh sound like?

You’re supposed to tell me I’m safe with you and that nobody is going to hurt me.  Tears still leaked from her eyes.

Well of course you’re safe.  I’ll tear anybody’s head off that comes near you.

You actually have to say the words, you big jerk.  How am I supposed to feel comforted if you don’t tell me?  You’re also supposed to hold me while I cry.  She started to weep harder and was no longer silent while doing it.

He ran his hands through his hair again.  Christ he was out of practise in comforting a woman.  Action he could do. 

Okay, enough talk.  Your voice doesn’t need anymore abuse.  He stood and helped the woman stand, then swung her up into his arms with ease.  He heard her gasp, but ignored the sound and headed towards his room.  She laid her head on his shoulder and he could have sworn she whispered, ‘better.’

Coming down the hallway, he saw that both policemen that had been shot were on their feet and speaking rapidly with Clouseau.  They stopped and looked at him with the woman in his arms, then said something to him in French.  He was saved from asking for a translation when the woman responded back in French.  An explosion of words came from the men, but since he didn’t understand them he just nodded and carried on to the room they’d been using to wait in.  The door was still open so he kicked it closed as he passed through and took the woman to the bed and laid her down.

She clutched his arm when he would have pulled away.

Don’t worry.  I’m not going anywhere.  Just grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.  Might help your throat. 

She let his arm slip through her fingers.  He took an extra minute to grab a clean shirt from his backpack.  He helped her sit up then offered her the water while he put his shirt on her. 

At any other time, he would have appreciated her skimpy attire and how it showed her assets, but right now her sports bra and shorts didn’t offer much in the way of warmth.  He squatted in front of her while he buttoned the shirt, before rolling the sleeves back until he found her hands again.  His shirt swamped her delicate frame making her look like a child playing dress up.

He took the bottle from her and set it on the floor.  Hey now, why don’t you lay down until the doctor arrives.

She didn’t respond, just threw herself off the bed into his arms.  The force knocked him back on his ass.  He protected her in the circle of his arms.  Here now, is this the part where I hold you while you cry?

He watched her head of shiny blonde hair bob up and down and felt her cheek rub on his chest.  Or at least he felt the pressure of it through the body armor.  He didn’t bother trying to stand, just pulled her more comfortably into his lap and spun around using the bed as a backrest.

What’s-

Hush woman.  No talking.  Be nice to your voice. 

She disregarded his order like he hadn’t spoken.  Not something most people had the nerve to do.

I was wrong.  You’re not so bad at this after all. 

He was uncomfortable with her praise.  He didn’t feel he’d done anything except get her out of the hallway.  At least she seemed done with crying and was content to lay cocooned in his arms while he pretended that he wasn’t affected by her words.

Chapter 1

Forward Operating Base, Kabul, Afghanistan

5 months later

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Jet stood on the hard packed ground, dust covering his boots.  Babysitting duty, he thought with disgust and politicians to boot.  He glanced at his team lead, mirroring his boss’ bland look.  He didn’t need to get in trouble with the commander for insulting a politician.  He was still irritated that only half the team had to be there for the meet and greet.  Sometimes being third in command felt more like a punishment than an acknowledgment of his rank and experience.

There wasn’t a breath of wind or a cloud in the sky.  The late afternoon sun beat down causing little beads of sweat to form, making the tactical shirt stick between his shoulder blades and the small of his back.  He struggled to maintain his neutral expression as three beige Humvees pulled in.

He watched his commanding officer exit the closest Humvee.  The man had a pleasant smile firmly in place by the time the politicians exited the vehicles and milled around him.  Jet admired how Lieutenant Commander Nelson seemed to have a natural talent for soothing Washington bureaucrats and could keep testosterone driven SEALs like himself in line.

The commander was joined by Lopez, who gave orders to a few men regarding the luggage.  His temper sparked as politicians, young and old alike, eyed her.  Petty Officer Maria Lopez was their logistical support.  She organized everything and everyone.  A small, pretty woman of Latina decent, rounded in all the right places, she attracted attention wherever she went.  In her own way she was one of them, so hands off was a given.  Jet had been known to school other men in the hands off policy if he felt they were unworthy of her.  Although mentioning that to her would be unwise.  He liked his balls attached to his body.

He let his eyes roam once she had departed, not particularly interested in the group.  He’d already been briefed on the delegation, complete with photos.  The U.S. Ambassador to Turkey, William Sherman and U.S. Senator Randell Lacey were the only important men in the bunch.  The rest were low level politicians and aides.  Jet’s team had been tasked with their security for the next few days travelling back and forth to Kabul for classified talks with Taliban leaders.  Tonight he was being tortured with having to dine and go on a tour of the base with them.  An involuntary shudder went through him.

His attention was grabbed when the rear door of the third Humvee opened. He’d thought all the visitors were accounted for. He raised an eyebrow when he saw small feet encased in yellow, ridiculously high heels appear.  In a moment a woman slid from the vehicle. 

Holy hell, Jet muttered under his breath when he saw her.  Tiny, curvy, with a bouncy blonde ponytail pulling the hair away from a sweet, heart shaped face with glossy pink lips.

He was thirty feet away, but he didn’t need to be close to know she had green eyes.  He didn’t know her, but he did.

Five months ago he walked away without asking her name.  He’d tried to ignore the sense of abandonment he’d felt from her when she’d watched him go, but those eyes had haunted him.  Days later he’d tried to find out about her, but despite his security clearance and connections she’d been a ghost. 

Now here she was looking happy and healthy with a cheerful smile on her face.  She was too damn young for a man his age to drool over, but it didn’t stop his heart rate from picking up as he remembered how she felt in his arms.  He tracked her every movement as she walked over to join the ambassador. 

He didn’t think he was being a chauvinist when he dismissed her as part of the political delegation.  His life and that of his teammates depended on their ability to analyze situations.  His eyes narrowed with concentration; what was her connection to the delegation?  She hadn’t been part of the morning’s briefing package.

He watched Commander Nelson speak with the ambassador for a moment before he led the group over to Alpha team.

Master Chief Connors this is Ambassador Sherman and his daughter, Alexandra Sherman.

Jet vaguely heard Nelson introduce the remainder of the part to Connors, but it was background noise as he continued to gaze at her.  Alexandra.  It suited her.  Classy.  He would never get to address her by it, but at least he now knew it.  Would she even remember him? 

He didn’t realize how intently he’d been staring until Gabriel sucker punched him in the ribs, drawing a startled grunt from him. 

––––––––

Alex heard the noise and glanced towards the sound.  Her smile faltered when she met the gaze of the Navy SEAL.  He looked different now, but she could never forget him or his eyes.  His eyes were blue.  Not like the Caribbean, which was bright and clear, these eyes were darker, deeper, more turbulent, like deep in the ocean.  They were hypnotizing, just staring at her, not blinking.  The lashes surrounding them were thick and dark.  She’d spent good money to achieve the length that this man was born naturally with.

She was afraid to look away.  After failing to find out his identity months ago, even with Uncle Dave’s help, here he was no more than three feet away.  She was sure her eyes reflected the same recognition and surprise that his did.

She hadn’t been able to forget him.  Oval face with slicked back dark hair, so dark it was almost black with a matching beard and mustache.  The beard was scruffier now and hid a good portion of his face, but it didn’t detract from his full lower lip, something all of a sudden she had a crazy desire to lick.

She’d told others that she wanted to find him to thank him, but that was a lie.  Once the trauma of that day had faded she’d continued to dream about the big man that had held her safe in his arms. 

Alex tried to give herself a mental shake, reminding herself that he was still a stranger.  She never realized how big he was.  He dwarfed her, not just in height, although she figured he had a least a foot on her, but broad of chest and shoulders.  The man appeared to be pure muscle with thick biceps, corded forearms, and strong hands with scars marring the backs of them.  Like a Sherman tank.  She bit her lip to keep from laughing at her own play on words.

She moved to stand in front of him and crooked her forefinger motioning for him to lean down.  He complied.  She stretched upward and whispered in his ear.

Navy, huh?

Technically that’s true.

She drew her brows down and glared at him for a moment before giving into her desire.  She kissed him on the cheek and snickered when he drew back startled.

Alexandra!

The SEAL snapped to his full height and looked forward over her head.  Alex sighed, took a pace back and glanced at her father.

Yes? she inquired and refrained from rolling her eyes.  We’re old friends.  A lie, but they did have history.

Did her father think she was accosting strangers just to annoy him?  It might have been something she would have done when she was a bratty teenager, but those days were long gone.  She and her parents must have been insane to think her visiting for a few weeks was a good idea.  They all had clearly forgotten why they avoided each other.  Her father’s face tightened, no doubt realizing he’d overreacted and drew unnecessary attention to an innocent situation.  She refused to let a minor incident ruin her day.  Not when she’d just found her sailor again.

I didn’t realize you knew Chief Cooper, Miss Sherman.  Nelson filled the conversational gap and turned the tense moment with ease.  She sent him a grateful smile.  Where did you meet?

Chief Cooper, at last, she had a name.  Paris.  Alex didn’t miss the glances that passed amongst the SEALs.

That would have been a few months ago.  The chief was there training some members of the Paris Police Force in advanced surveillance techniques.

Willing to play along with the lie, she smiled and nodded at Commander Nelson. 

The commander was quick to move onto a new topic.  Gentlemen, Miss Sherman, shall we go to dinner? 

Alex reluctantly moved away from the chief with one last glance to make sure he was coming too and took the commander’s offered arm allowing him to lead her and the group to the nearby Mess Hall.

She looked around on her way to the food line.  The building was a massive domed tent meant for assembly and deconstruction at a moment’s notice.  Full of tables organized in rows divided by four alleyways with chairs on either side.  A few tables were full, some were empty and a few had a smattering of people having more private discussions.  There was a low hum of noise from the conversations.

Once food and drinks were gathered, the commander led her to a reserved table where they sat opposite each other in the middle.  Her father and the Senator chose seats on either side of the commander and one of the Senator’s aides sat next to him even though there was nobody beside her yet.  Ass kisser.  She knew his type. 

Chief Cooper settled in next to her.  The ass kisser was instantly forgiven if this was her reward.  Was it her imagination that he scooted his chair nearer to her?

The others made their way to the table and filled up the remaining seats.  Curiosity burned at her.  She now knew the rank and last name of her mystery man, but she couldn’t ask him his first name yet.  If she did her father would know she lied about her and the chief being friends.  Her parents didn’t know about what happened in Paris and she wanted to keep it that way.

Her father broke the silence and began asking casual questions of the commander with the Senator following suit chatting with the master chief and the other SEAL that had not been introduced.  Well he might have been, but she’d missed it if he had.  The other delegates talked among themselves.

Alex took a deep breath to supress the questions she really wanted to ask and challenged herself to find more neutral questions that still gave her information about the man next to her.  She briefly touched his arm to get his attention and wasn’t prepared for the jolt of awareness that went through her just from the heat of his bare forearm.  Trying to breathe naturally when those blue eyes turned to her became a test.

How have you been?

––––––––

She had the most amazing green eyes he’d ever seen, but they weren’t clear and bright like he expected.  The shadows he saw were as plentiful as a forest at dusk.  Despite her makeup there were blue smudges under her eyes.  What kept Alexandra up at night and put such darkness in her eyes that the smile she offered never reached them?

He’d often wondered what her real voice would sound like.  Now he knew.  It was silky smooth, soft and cultured causing an unidentified sensation to run down his stomach and curl around his dick.  The moment she’d laid her hand on him he’d gotten chills.  That had never happened to him before and it unbalanced him.  He hadn’t felt like this in Paris, but she’d been injured then.  It had been easy to keep his distance. 

Chief?

Her voice jolted him.  What had she asked?  I’m good.  You?  Good one Cooper, could you sound any more like an idiot?

I love your accent.  I didn’t get to tell you that before, she blinked once and gave him a small smile.  Her eyes sparkled like expensive emeralds.  The shadows had receded and he found he couldn’t look away.

He was used to people commenting on his accent.  When he’d been younger it had often been followed by bad imitations or bad jokes.  It was strong even by Texas standards.  There was no teasing or mocking in Alexandra’s voice though, just ringing truth.

Where are you from?

West Texas, just outside Amarillo.  Amarillo is between Albuquerque and Oklahoma City.  It’s mostly flat, hot and dry.  A dust bowl, but there are canyons fairly close and the mountains a few hours away.  He kept the information non-personal, boring even, yet her eyes never wavered from his face.

Chief? 

Her voice was so soft it glided over his senses.  It also kept his blood pooled in his dick, the pressure uncomfortable, and this was not the place to adjust himself.

Yes, ma’am?

Is it a stereotype to assume you know how to ride a horse and like country music?

Yes, ma’am, it’s a stereotype. 

Oh.

She looked crestfallen.  It was rude to ask a Texan that question, but from her, he wasn’t offended and he didn’t want to see disappointment on her face.  However, I am a stereotype, he added just to see those fantastic eyes light up again.

Miss Sherman, the commander interrupted, your father says you live in California.  Have you never been to Texas?  It’s not that far away. 

She turned to answer Nelson.  Jet’s jaw clenched to avoid glaring at his boss.  He leaned back in his chair and tapped the table with one forefinger.  Christ what was wrong with him?  Was he feeling envious of the commander?  No.  That was stupid.  He was just enjoying his conversation with a pretty woman