Undaunted: Eternal Brethren, #8

By Shirleen Davies

Hearts haunted by past mistakes. Two people desperate for a second chance. For that miracle to happen, he first must keep her alive.

 

Scott "Fuse" McCall thrives in his role as an undercover Navy SEAL. Eternal Brethren Motorcycle Club provides everything he needs—danger, action, and the opportunity to work with those as dedicated as him in keeping America safe. All that's missing is the woman who shut him out of her life years before. The same woman he's been assigned to protect.

 

Brittany Blackmore is ready for a change. Her job as an analyst in D.C. leaves her bored and unsatisfied. Being tapped as the Chief of Staff for a prominent U.S. Senator is what she needs to get back on course. What she doesn't need is a direct threat to her senator father, or the protection detail to keep her out of harm's way. Especially not the man she walked away from years before.

 

Forced together, they find themselves fighting not only threats from two dangerous gangs, but their increasing attraction to each other. When pressure from domestic terrorists surges, so does the time they must spend together, forcing them to face the demons from their past.

 

As the stakes rise, can Fuse and his men find the source of the terror and eliminate it? Or will the pressure cause Brittany to flee not only the threats to her life, but the man she's never stopped loving?

 

Undaunted is book eight in the Eternal Brethren Military Romantic Suspense Series by best seller Shirleen Davies. It is a stand-alone, full-length novel with no cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shirleen Davies
• Release date: Jun 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781947680241

Book preview

Prologue

Coronado, California

The surprise rainstorm broke loose five minutes after the admiral secured the one-star Senior Chief Petty Officer pin to Fuse’s lapel. He’d made it off the podium in time to help his teammates herd his family into a nearby building. Even so, the quick downpour had everyone brushing water from their clothes and shaking their heads. Within five minutes, the rain had stopped.

Scott Fuse McCall hugged his parents and brother, broad smiles on all their faces. He still couldn’t believe they’d made the trip from Banderas, Texas, to attend his promotion ceremony. They never left the ranch, not even to celebrate their own anniversaries or birthdays. It humbled him.

We’re so proud of you. His mother, Marion, swiped moisture from her face, her other hand cupping his cheek.

Congratulations, bro. This is awesome! Scott’s seventeen-year-old brother, Marty, shook his hand. I’m going to enlist right after high school.

College, their father, Vern, cut in.

Dad…

He’s right, Marty. Finish college, then sign-up. You’ll qualify as an officer. Fuse glanced around, seeing his teammates waiting to congratulate him before heading out to continue their own celebration.

You’re not an officer and you’re doing fine.

Fuse’s thoughts went back a few years, wondering if he and Brittany would’ve had a chance if he’d been an officer instead of enlisted. Shaking his head, he gripped his brother’s shoulder.

Give college a try. You might find you enjoy it. Think of all the girls.

Marion lightly slugged his arm. Scott! He’s only fifteen.

I’m sure Marty’s already considered it, Mom. By fifteen, he was already well acquainted with those of the opposite sex.

One of the interior doors opened, drawing his attention. A couple he recognized emerged with the base commander, the men in deep conversation. A moment later, his worst nightmare happened. Brittany appeared, and as expected, fell in line behind her parents—Senator and Mrs. Harold Blackmore.

Stiffening, Fuse did his best to turn away, hoping to stay invisible. He felt his mother lay her hand on his arm and his heart sank.

Scott. Isn’t that Brittany Blackmore? At least she’d kept her voice low.

Doing his best to appear disinterested, he covered her hand with his. Yeah, Mom. He checked his watch, making a quick decision to head to the restaurant early. It’s time to leave for our reservation.

Before he could get them out the side door, a booming voice halted their progress.

Senior Chief Petty Officer McCall.

Shit, he muttered, ignoring his mother’s raised brows. Turning, he squared his shoulders, his gaze meeting the tall, broad-shouldered man he’d hoped to never see again.

Senator Blackmore. He held out his hand, relieved when the man gripped it.

Congratulations on the promotion. I’m sure it was hard-earned.

Thank you, sir.

I wanted to thank you again for both times you came to my family’s rescue. You need to know my wife and I have the greatest respect for you.

Fuse’s expression didn’t change, nor did he acknowledge Brittany and her mother, who stood a few feet away. Just doing my job, sir. My parents are here and we have reservations. Have a safe trip home, sir. Holding out his hand again, he bore the man’s touch once more before rejoining his family.

All right. Ready to eat? He nodded at the exit doors, ignoring his parents’ confused stares.

Uh, Scott. Marty nodded behind them.

He didn’t have to look to know who approached. Steeling himself, Fuse turned, coming face-to-face with Brittany.

Ms. Blackmore. I trust you’re doing well.

Her face fell, lips parting. The butterflies in her stomach were on the warpath and she couldn’t seem to calm them.

Hello, Scott. Licking her lips, she clasped her hands together, lifting her chin. I’m doing quite well. Congratulations on your promotion.

Fuse couldn’t recall Brittany ever acting nervous, fighting to display the poise of a princess. To him, that’s what she’d always been. Untouchable, which had turned out to be true.

Thank you.

Will it change anything for you?

If you mean, will I change teams, no. A little more pay, but that’s about it. Are you still in D.C.?

I am. Do you mind if I say hello to your parents?

Fuse looked behind him. I’m sure they’d love seeing you.

Passing him, she hugged his mother and father, making a big deal about how much Marty had grown. Fuse watched, his jaw clenching as his chest tightened. After all this time, he still missed her. At least he didn’t love her anymore.

A few minutes ticked by before she returned, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. I should get back to my parents. It was great to see you. She glanced around, meeting his gaze once more. I…

When she didn’t finish, he reached out to touch her hand. You what?

Giving a slow shake of her head, she pursed her lips. Nothing. Goodbye, Scott.

Have a good life, Brit.

The back of her eyes burned as she turned and left.

Chapter One

Liberty Lake, Arizona

Six months later…

The range is live, gentlemen. Rock watched the shooters and any spotters with them. There were strict rules, the same as at every range, and as the designated range safety officer, he meant to enforce them. You going to fire that weapon or just stare at the target, Fuse?

Snorting, he sighted his TAC-338 sniper rifle. Letting out a slow breath, Fuse squeezed the trigger. Beside him, Raider, acting as his spotter, called adjustments.

He loaded another round, taking direction from Raider before firing again.

A few feet away, Moses shouldered his MK13. Next to him, Gunner, another sniper, spotted for him. As two designated snipers on their team, they shot at the remote range at least twice a week, always ending the day as two of their best. Today was the same. The men were machines with sniper rifles.

After Fuse finished, he and Raider watched their teammates before leaving for the Eternal Brethren clubhouse. Entering through the double gates and parking, Raider headed straight to the indoor range while Fuse hit the gym.

Unless on a mission, he’d upped his workout time from four to seven days a week. As part of an undercover SEAL team located in Liberty Lake, Wrath, their commander and president of the motorcycle club, kept a strict schedule of exercises, skill training, and underwater drills at a nearby lake.

Fuse attacked each with a dual purpose. First, to increase his expertise in all areas, including his foremost skill as the team’s primary EOD explosives specialist. Second, to keep his mind off Brittany. It had been six months since seeing her at his promotion ceremony and he couldn’t shove her from his thoughts.

After their breakup and years of no contact, she’d shown up no less than three times in less than two years. Twice as a hostage in terrorist attacks and once in Coronado. With each occurrence, he found it harder to leave her image behind.

Hey, man. Fargo entered the gym, tossing his towel over a bar near the free weights. Another EOD explosives expert, he didn’t talk much, but when he did, people listened. Heard the prez might have something coming our way real soon.

Fuse stopped his pull-ups, dropping to the mat. What else?

Nothing more. Admiral Grayson’s people are verifying data.

Another terrorist threat?

You’ll know when the rest of us do. Fargo grabbed a weight, lowering himself onto one of several benches. What I have heard is it’s going to include most of the team.

Turning back to the pull-up bar, Fuse began again, this time his mind on what might be coming their way. It had been longer than usual since they’d been sent out. At least a month, and most of the men were going stir-crazy.

Even those not selected for an op were busy with communications and logistics. Everyone had a job during each mission.

Finishing, he picked up his towel, wiping it down his face. Thanks for the heads-up, man.

Fargo waved him off, returning to his workout.

Standing under the hot spray, Fuse rested an arm against the wall, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on the potential op and what the orders would be. Instead, he thought of Brittany, wondering what she was doing, if she ever thought of him, if she ever regretted ending their relationship.

He doubted it. Brittany might feel some guilt at choosing her family’s status and wealth over a man committed to the Navy, but moving on without him hadn’t appeared to be an issue.

Fuse learned she’d obtained a job as an analyst in the Office of Intelligence and Analysis within the Department of Homeland Security. Bright, motivated, and a perfect fit with those in D.C. who saw themselves as part of the Washington elite, she had goals of becoming one of the nation’s power brokers.

He guessed by now she’d found a kindred spirit in some ambitious attorney or lobbyist, the kind of man her senator father would accept. The thought had a knot twisting in his gut.

Seeing her in Coronado brought up all kinds of memories. Good and bad. If possible, she was more beautiful than when they’d been together, a fact he wanted to forget.

Fuse.

He turned, catching the towel Gunner threw at him. What’s up?

Wrath wants us in his office. He checked his watch. 1400 hours. That’s ten minutes from now.

Fuse wrapped the towel around his waist, heading to the lockers. Any clue what it’s about?

Nope. See you in ten.

He followed a few minutes later. The table in the conference room adjoining Wrath’s office was almost full. A folder had been placed in front of each chair. No one had touched it, nor would they until the prez ordered it. Wrath stepped into the room five minutes later, his gaze roaming over his men, who’d stood at his entry.

Commander Caid Wrath McCord had been asked to establish the Eternal Brethren years before, selecting men from the ranks of the elite Navy SEAL ranks of DEVGRU, commonly known as SEAL Team Six. The result was the men standing before him.

Sit. Waiting until they were settled, he slid back the door on a wall-mounted screen, displaying a large map. Tapping his fingers on one location, he narrowed his gaze on them. Gentlemen, this is our next op. Austin, Texas.

Ghost sat up straighter, while Fuse muttered a curse. Both had family near Austin. Ghost’s lived on a large ranch less than two hours north of Austin, and Fuse’s lived on a ranch in Bandera at the south end of the Hill Country.

Admiral Grayson has received confirmed intelligence that one of ISIS’s top deputies is working in Austin. Abu Abdul al-Assid.

Damn. Do they have confirmed sightings? Ghost’s gut churned.

He’s working as a professor at the University of Texas. One of his colleagues had suspicions about him. He took it to the dean of their department, but nothing was done. He finally took it to a friend at Homeland Security in D.C. who met with SECNAV, the director of the FBI, and Grayson. The president of the university has been contacted and he’s provided his complete support.

Fuse lifted his gaze from the file. Our orders?

We deploy in twenty-four hours. Time to get down to business, gentlemen.

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Office of Intelligence & Analysis

Washington D.C.

You have a delivery, Ms. Blackmore. Brittany looked up from her computer, seeing flowers over the top of the cubicle. A moment later, one of the department assistants appeared with a vase holding a dozen roses.

Set them here and thanks for bringing them to me. Her stomach roiled at the deep red of the petals.

She knew who they were from without looking. As soon as no one was paying attention, she’d shuttled them to the women’s restroom for a place of honor in the trash.

Ever since she’d caught Carl with his pants down humping his young intern, she’d shoved him from her life, ignoring his feeble attempts to apologize. The senior lobbyist was eight years her senior, divorced without children. They’d been together less than a year when she walked into his office. Disgusted at the sight, she’d quietly closed the door and left.

It took Carl two days to realize she wasn’t returning his calls, texts, or emails for a reason. Most times, he seemed more of a companion than lover. In fact, he hadn’t shown much interest in a while. The reason was no longer a surprise.

She’d gotten over him within days. Two weeks later, he still sent flowers, candy, jewelry, and long notes of apology. Brittany threw out the flowers and notes, ate the candy, and tucked away the jewelry for later use. If he was stupid enough to send it, she was smart enough to keep it.

The phone rang, as it always did after the delivery of one of his unending mea culpas. As always, she ignored it, refocusing on her computer screen.

The thrill of her job had worn off a long time ago. She’d had two promotions in three years, knew her work was important, but the joy had evaporated early on. It wasn’t so much boring as too far away from where she wanted to be.

Slipping the phone from her purse, she called a private number, relieved when the woman answered.

Hello, Brittany. I was hoping to hear from you today.

Senator. I apologize for not responding sooner.

Do you have a decision for me?

Brittany thought of her parents, their disappointment at learning her new direction. For once, she’d ignored what they wanted. It was time she took control of her own life, went after what was important to her.

I’d be honored to be your chief of staff, Senator.

Excellent, Brittany. Do you have time for dinner with me tonight? We can complete any final details, such as your travel schedule between D.C. and Arizona.

Perfect.

Shall we say eight o’clock at Fiola’s?

I’m looking forward to it, Senator.

Hanging up, she stared at the phone. She’d done it. Finally took action on what she’d learned over hours of digging through documents and working with a good friend who had the ability to hack into secure databases. They discovered secrets she doubted even her father knew.

Standing, she straightened her skirt before walking past the other cubicles to her boss’s office.

Fifteen minutes later, she left, not feeling a twinge of guilt. A life-long government employee, he’d taken her resignation in stride, congratulated her on what he considered a great opportunity. She now faced the bigger challenge.

Her parents would be disappointed and confused. All the adjectives she’d heard over the years would be tossed out once they learned her plans. Of course, they were never disappointed in her, but the decisions she made.

Such as falling in love with Scott McCall. They’d agreed he’d been a good, decent man who wanted to serve his country, and who’d never be good enough for her.

Over the last couple years and two rescues, which saved her life as well as theirs, her parents had reconsidered. Hence the trip to watch his promotion ceremony in Coronado.

Brittany also suspected their change in heart had something to do with their grief over losing her brother. Junior Blackmore, a politician the same as their father, had died at the hands of an outlaw motorcycle gang in Arizona. They’d never learned the details, only that he’d been beaten, his body found in the desert.

Since then, they’d softened, revisiting their role in helping to eliminate Scott from her life. Still, they probably wouldn’t understand her leaving an excellent job in D.C. to accept a position where she’d be required to travel to Arizona regularly. Return to the state where her brother served as a state representative and lost his life. It was a place her parents never intended to visit.

For her part, Brittany couldn’t be more excited. Instead of being relegated to a government cubicle, she’d travel, assist the senator, work with interesting people, and expand her experience. If she never came across Scott again, her life would move forward, and she couldn’t be more ready.

Chapter Two

Round Rock, Texas

Target has entered house. Repeat, target in place. Rock touched his earpiece, noting the three responses. Hold for my go.

The men had been divided into three, four-man units. Wearing full tactical gear, including night vision goggles, they were in position around the two acre property, waiting for Rock’s order. There’d be no explosives. Raider would disable the alarm before Tracker breached the front door while Fargo did the same in the back.

Abu Abdul al-Assid lived alone in a middle-class suburb north of Austin. Intelligence showed it took him less than thirty minutes to get from his office at the university to the three bedroom house, arriving most nights no later than seven. Tonight, something in his routine had changed.

Rock checked his watch. Midnight. He wondered where the terrorist, working as a professor, had been for the last five hours. Not that it mattered.

He waited twenty minutes for al-Assid to turn off his lights, then another twenty before making the call to trigger the men.

Confirm positions. The responses came in rapid succession after Rock’s command. Raider. Security system deactivated?

Check, Rock.

Breachers. On my go. Rock paused a moment. One…two…three. Go, go, go!

Tracker and Fargo rushed forward, followed by the men in their units. Disabling the locks took less than a minute. Flashbang grenades were tossed through the doors, the men rushing inside behind them.

While one unit cleared the rooms, Tracker, Fargo and their men swept quietly through the house to the master bedroom. They found al-Assid in the