Easy Surrender

By Nichole Rose

This Navy SEAL is ready to wave his white flag of surrender and accept his fate when it comes to his curvy girl.

Beckett "Slate" Jennings
My first mission as a SEAL was almost my last.
Saving Dr. Jane Nayler in Yemen almost destroyed me.
Somehow, I survived and buried that pain deep.
Imagine my surprise when Jane's daughter shows up on my doorstep.
After three years, my neatly ordered world collapses around me.
Constance is everything I never knew I needed—beautiful, curvy, and sweet.
When she looks at me like I'm her hero, I know there's nothing I won't do for her.
Even if it means turning to face the past.

Constance Nayler
I've heard so much about Slate from my mom, I feel like I know him.
When she goes missing overseas, I run right to him.
If anyone can help me, the SEAL who saved her once before can.
She forgot to tell me that he's gorgeous…and bossy as can be.
Every time he looks at me, I feel him in my soul.
When he touches me, I go up in flames.
But time doesn't heal all wounds. It hasn't healed him.
Sometimes, it takes something even stronger.
Lucky for him, my spine was forged from steel.
He might be the hero, but this is one battle I plan to win.

When this possessive Navy SEAL meets the younger curvy girl meant for him, he'll surrender more than his heart to claim her. Get ready to fall hard, fast, and forever for Slate and Constance in this sweet and extra steamy short romance!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nichole Rose
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215116548

Book preview

Chapter One

Slate

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V alor, Wyoming, I say under my breath, shaking my head as I step inside Rooster's Diner. Valor is the one place on this planet that never changes no matter how long I'm gone. And the one place I seem to fit less every damn time I come back. I do a quick scan of the diner from the front door. A couple of my MC Brothers—the Men of Valor—are here with their families. Blade and his Ol' Lady are cuddled up at the counter, ignoring the world. Bolt and Knight are at a booth with their wives, laughing about something.

I don't see Patriot among the familiar faces. Guess he's running late.

I keep my head down, headed toward a vacant booth against the back wall. No disrespect intended toward my brothers, but I just got in, I'm tired as fuck, there are toddlers and babies everywhere…and I know fuck-all about either.

I just want to get food, get my bike from Patriot, and get some sleep. I'll catch up with everyone later. I was supposed to be here two days ago but got caught up helping a buddy in Vegas and ended up missing my original flight. I'm killing him for that next time I see him. The only other available flight out was a redeye last night. I got seated next to an elderly lady who talked the whole time. Ordinarily, I would have entertained the conversation. I'm a polite motherfucker, after all. But the old bird kept trying to set me up with her granddaughter.

When I didn't take the bait, she swapped to her grandson.

Apparently, he has a spicy OnlyFans page. People pay him for pictures of his cock. Her family knows far too goddamn much about each other if you ask me. Now, I know far too goddamn much about them too. It was a long fucking flight.

I squeeze between two booths, dodging a toddler's flailing arms, and stop short with a curse when Shep Stratford steps up in front of me, a little girl on one hip and his arm around his curvy wife, Ainsley. She's got their baby girl in her arms, a soft smile on her face.

Shep's expression is cautious as his brown eyes run over me in careful assessment. I know what he's looking for, but he won't find it. I'm a Navy SEAL. Three years ago, I fucked up. I was fucked up. My first mission with my team—a rescue mission in Yemen—went bad. It was the worst sort of fucked up situation. One of the doctors we were sent to rescue got caught in the crossfire. We lost him to friendly fire. Specifically, to my friendly fire.

I decided to deal by drinking, which was fucking stupid. The only thing you drown at the bottom of a bottle is your common sense. I made a pass at Ainsley. Actually, I think I tried to kiss her. I'm not fucking sure. All I know is I was drunk and stupid. I got up in her personal space and freaked her out. It probably wasn't the first time I acted like an asshole while drunk. But it was the last.

I damn near didn't get patched into the MC over it. Everyone was pissed, but none more so than Shep. His wife is his world. They weren't married back then—hell, I didn't even know they were together, or I never would have made a pass at her in the first place—but he's ungodly protective when it comes to her. I don't blame him.

Ainsley's parents were murdered when she was little. Her uncle sheltered the hell out of her as a result. In a lot of ways, the world is still new to her. The last thing she needed was some drunk motherfucker getting all up in her face on her first foray out into the world. I still feel like an asshole for that. Probably always will.

I got my head out of my ass and quit drinking after that. Shep has slowly warmed up to me, but I don't think he'll ever trust me entirely. When I come home, he watches me like he's waiting for me to slip up and head down that same path again. Can't say I blame him for that shit either. I may not be drinking myself blind every night over what happened, but I don't exactly rest easy over it either.

Everyone says it wasn't my fault, but at the end of the day, an innocent man died by my hand. One who was counting on me to save his life. Some things should haunt you. His death certainly haunts me.

Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in, Shep finally says, a grin spreading across his face.

Hey, Shep, I murmur. It's good to see you.

He releases his wife and reels me in, pounding me on the back. Welcome home, Brother.

His embrace catches me off guard and I hesitate for a second before returning it. Physical contact isn't something I've ever had a lot of, and I always manage to forget that these fuckers like to hug. Not to mention, part of me always expects him to tell me to kick fucking rocks.

If anyone belongs in Valor, he does. This is his home. And I've always felt a little bit like an outsider everywhere I go. I've never had a family. I don't have roots or any of that shit either. All I've got is my bike, my cabin, and a lifetime of memories of bouncing from place to place.

I grew up in the system, kicked from one foster family to another. Some lasted longer than others, but they all sent me on my way sooner or later…though some sent me with fewer demons than others. I joined the Navy as soon as I aged out. Valor is the first place I've ever settled for any length of time. I'm not even sure how the fuck I ended up here. I just rode through one day and never fucking left. Something about the small-town just felt right.

Welcome home, Slate, Ainsley says, calling me by my nickname instead of my real name—Beckett. Most people do. With two Becketts in this town—me and Wild—using road names is a helluva lot easier than trying to figure out which of us people mean.

Come home, Shep and Ainsley's little girl, Scout, parrots.

Thanks, sweetheart. I smile at her. She's a cute kid. She's growing fast.

You here for long? Shep asks.

Two weeks.

He jerks his chin in a nod. Shep was a SEAL too. He worked intelligence before retiring. Most of the Brothers were in the service at one time or another. I'm one of the few who are still active duty. Everyone else has retired and settled down.

I think about that shit sometimes. Retiring. Settling down. Raising a family of my own. It all feels like a pipe dream to a motherfucker like me. What do I have to offer a woman besides a big dick and my bullshit? Not much. I'm thirty. I've still got eight years before retirement.

It feels like a goddamn lifetime.

You'll be here for the thing on Friday then, he says.

What thing?

Club thing.

I stare at him blankly. Gonna need more than that, I mutter.

He means the P-A-R-T-Y, Ainsley says, laughing quietly. "Just don't say the word or someone will throw a holy fit about not being allowed to go. She cuts her eyes at their daughter, making it clear which someone she means. It's at Midnight Oil."

Ah, I say, understanding dawning. Midnight Oil is a club-owned bar. I'm guessing little Scout likes to party but isn't anywhere near old enough for this one. I'm also guessing Shep is shit at telling her no, judging by the worried gleam in his eyes as he watches her, trying to make sure she isn't understanding any of this. Yeah, I'll be there.

What's a bid-night oil, daddy? Scout asks, tilting her head back to look up at Shep.

It's a bad place, he says, his voice solemn. Full of degenerates and drunkards.

Shep! Ainsley protests through laughter. Their baby startles in her arms, letting out a soft wail. Ainsley immediately focuses on her, bouncing her gently and making a soft shushing noise that's oddly soothing. The baby immediately settles.

It's true, Shep mutters with a shrug. His gaze shifts from his wife and the baby to me. We should get her home but come see me sometime this week. We'll talk.

I jerk my chin in a nod, not sure what he wants to talk about. But I'll stop by to see him anyway. I hold my fist out for him to pound and then give Ainsley and their daughter a chin lift. See you around, Ainsley. Bye, little one.

Bye, Slate, Ainsley says.

Bye, Sate!

I step aside for them to go around me, and then continue on my way to my booth. By the time I slide into the bench seat, Patriot's striding through the front door. Patriot and I were prospects together three years ago. Even though he's a few years younger than I am, he's the closest thing to a best friend I have in this town. Patriot is an interesting motherfucker. He's one of the best men I know. He also happens to be the best hitman I know. He's also mostly deaf.

Welcome home, Brother, he says, sliding into the booth across from me.

Thanks, Brother. I hold out my fist for him