Snake's Salvation: Cottonwood Falls, #8

By Aliyah Burke

Two people with painful pasts can create something spectacular with each other.

Jason "Snake" LaRue was a Navy SEAL. Now he's not and he has trust issues and memories he can't forget no matter how hard he tries. His one solace is a woman who works at the local diner who chases away the darkness in him. But would she ever consider a man with his past?

Loretta Swann has given up art and now works at an all-night diner. Running from her past, she up and goes when the mood strikes. Her one shining moment a day is when the ex-SEAL graces the establishment. An impulsive kiss makes her wonder about something more with him. But when she learns what he wants, will she run again, or stick around to be Snake's Salvation?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sensual Romance Publishing
• Release date: Jun 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533760913

Aliyah Burke

USA Today bestselling author Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The cold desert air was the harbinger of death. It walked in with the icy edge of an assassin. Silent one moment—hell on Earth the next. Gunfire shattered the silence, along with the unmistakable sound of an RPG hitting its target.

Jason swore as he rolled from his makeshift bed, M16 in hand. The flames that jumped to him were thankfully extinguished from the dirt bath as he relocated. Fucking sand finally had a use. Crouched, he returned fire as he made sense of the chaos. Ward had been on watch. What the fuck happened to him? How did they get the drop on them?

Snake! A hand tapped his shoulder. Move.

The fuck, man? He moved back, in perfect tandem with his teammate and best friend, Samuel Rocks Patron as they fought free of the clusterfuck he’d woken to. The others?

No clue.

Jason cycled his weapon as he’d been trained to do, watching as the insurgents fell. It didn’t matter there was an endless wave of men who wanted him dead.

It was life. He was a Navy SEAL, which meant he sure as shitting wasn’t going to roll over and let them kill him. In his periphery, he saw Monsoon, the medic, dragging the boneless, lanky form of Whisper as he fired in short staccato bursts.

Goddamn motherfucking clusterfuck.

Yes, we need exfil, we’re taking heavy fire. Can’t you hear it? Possible casualties. Rocks’ tone, sharp yet controlled, reached him as he slammed a full magazine into his Glock and began firing, again. Your eight o’clock, Rocks yelled. We can hold’em back until evac arrives.

Go, Jason hollered.

No way. I’ve got more ammo. I’ll cover.

Rocks, he protested.

That’s an order, Snake.

It wasn’t often Rocks pulled rank on him, and he listened, covering Monsoon who rose with Whisper over his shoulder. A soft grunt had him turning back to Rocks in time to see him drop to one knee. Instinctively, he hesitated. Rocks shook his head and kept firing.

Minutes dragged on as they continued to fight. Finally, the familiar whoomp whoomp of their incoming evac ride. In his ear bud, he heard two more teammates check in. Still nothing from Ward.

Not soon enough came the air support, lighting up the night as they leveled the enemy. Rocks, he called as their ride landed. Move it.

Nothing.

Turning to where he’d last seen Rocks, he swore as his world went to slow motion as he watched a man in rags put a bullet into the head of his best friend. Rocks went down in a heap.

No! Jason ran for him, spraying bullets to cut down the ones approaching. He blinked as one took on the familiar shape of Ward. The man was helping the enemy. He’d sold their country out. Sold them out.

Ward sneered at him and lifted his rifle. Jason scowled and shot him directly between the eyes.

He grabbed his friend and hefted him up over his shoulder.

Go, got you covered, Monsoon’s words rang in his ear.

Turning, he hauled ass to the chopper. Numb, he stared at his dead friend as their ride took them away from the death and destruction. Three dead. Whisper and Rocks. And the traitor, Ward. His body lay alone to the side, no longer in their circle. Not one of them any longer.

When they landed, a tall man strode up to them as they disembarked, his uniform so sharply pressed it could have sliced him open. Abject failure, he barked. Three dead. Including my son.

Ward’s father was a very unhappy man. Jason wasn’t happy himself.

How’d it happen? He reached in to touch his son’s body.

I killed him. Jason ignored the looks from everyone else. With Rocks dead, he was in command.

You what? Rage poured from the man.

He betrayed us; I killed him. There was no sympathy in Jason’s heart, and pivoting on his heels, he left, following the two men who were carrying the dead body of his best friend.

I’m not done with you, Ward’s father cried out.

Tough shit.

Damn it, La Rue, I’m your superior officer. I’m not done talking to you, yet.

Like I give a damn, he muttered without slowing down.

He entered a building, ignoring the threats of how he would never be a SEAL, again. None of it mattered, right now. He had friends to honor. Friends to remember. Friends to say his farewells to.

His eyes snapped open, and Jason lay in the bed as his heart thundered within the confines of his chest. Again, the same dream of that night when his life had gone to shit. He wiped the sweat off his brow and pushed up from his prone position.

There would be no more sleep tonight. He was well aware of that. Swinging off the bed, he dressed and walked to his beat up pickup. Moments later, he was driving down the road to the one place in the small town that remained open this time of night.

He strode in and took his seat in the back of Et Tu Fey. Usual seat, usual looks from those in there and the only waitress who didn’t have a problem serving him. She didn’t shy from him, didn’t speak ill of him behind his back.

Evening, Jason, she said quietly, pouring him a cup of black coffee as she placed down a menu.

Ma’am.

One of her many braids trailed over her shoulder as she poured, and he had the insane urge to touch it, slide it through his fingers to see if it was as smooth as it appeared. It blocked part of her name tag, which read Etta.

Her response was a slight smile. I’ll be back in a few minutes, just in case you want to try something different.

He watched her walk away. Her natural stride, easy and feminine. Seductive without any intent of being such.

The chime over the door alerted him to the two men he’d seen stepping from their jacked up truck earlier. They swaggered in, hats low on their heads and cowboy boots scuffing the floor as they walked. The Scandrick Brothers, Billy and Danny.

Hey, darling, they called to the other waitress and smacked her on the ass as she sashayed by them.

She blushed and waved at them before walking to the counter. Jason diverted his attention back to Etta, who talked easily with another customer. He fixed his coffee and drank while waiting for her to return. Another couple walked in and claimed a booth. Terry called out a greeting, and Etta grabbed the coffee pot heading to their booth.

Pot in