Wrecked

  Copyright © 2017 JB Salsbury

  Excerpt from Split copyright © 2016 JB Salsbury

  Cover photograph © Claudio Marinesco

  Author photograph © Evelyn Johnson

  The right of JB Salsbury to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in Great Britain in 2017

  by HEADLINE ETERNAL

  An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by arrangement with Forever,

  an imprint of Grand Central Publishing.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN 978 1 4722 3863 4

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headlineeternal.com

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Praise for J. B. Salsbury

  By J. B. Salsbury

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  An enticing excerpt from Split

  Find Out More About Headline Eternal

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author J. B. Salsbury spends her days lost in a world of budding romance and impossible obstacles. Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. Since 2013 she has published seven bestselling novels and won a RONE Award. J. B. Salsbury lives with her husband and two kids in Phoenix, Arizona.

  Visit her at www.jbsalsbury.com, find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/JBSalsburybooks and on Twitter @JBSalsbury.

  Immerse yourself in J. B. Salsbury’s deeply emotional, addictive love stories:

  ‘Heartwarming, raw, and sexy. J. B. Salsbury did an amazing job on this one! With pacing so intense, it knocked me off my feet’ Tijan, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘A brilliantly constructed romantic thriller you’ll devour in one sitting! The perfect amount of sexual tension and sweetness rolled up with my favorite of all: a dangerously hot alpha male, makes this one addictive read!’ Elizabeth Reyes, USA Today bestselling author

  ‘Wow! My head is spinning and my heart is rejoicing. Sweet, tender, unexpected, heartbreaking, and so beautifully healing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever read before’ Mia Sheridan, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘J. B. Salsbury crafts a masterful romance with Split. It grabbed me by the throat and punched me in the heart’ Claudia Conner, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘Plenty of secrets, jaw-dropping moments and raw emotion makes this one unforgettable read’ RT Book Reviews

  ‘This book had my heart racing. Emotional, intense, and highly addictive. I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough’ J. Daniels, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘An addicting, wild ride of epic proportions that will stay with you long after you’ve reached the end’ Harper Sloan, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘Visceral. Addictive. Out of this world intense. A roller-coaster ride from start to end, Split will take your breath away’ Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘Riveting and heartbreaking, Split is a must read and one of my favorites of 2016’ Rebecca Shea, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘A powerful punch of deep emotion, sexy characters, and ingenious writing—this is the book you’ve been waiting for’ Pam Godwin, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘5 stars! Highly recommend! I went into Split completely blind and at first had no idea what to expect. But then the book swept me away’ Pepper Winters, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘This is a page-turner read so give yourself plenty of time to finish this book in one sitting’ Heroes and Heartbreakers

  ‘I loved this book! Once I started reading, I was hooked! It was a sexy, edgy, and refreshingly unique romance! Definitely a new favorite!’ Aestas Book Blog

  By J. B. Salsbury

  Split

  Wrecked

  About the Book

  When you can’t trust yourself, how can you ask anyone else to?

  It’s been months since Aden Colt left the Army, and still the memories haunt him. When he moved into a tiny boat off the California coast, he thought he’d found the perfect place to escape life. Then Sawyer shows up and turns his simple life upside down.

  Beautiful and sophisticated, she seems out of place in this laid-back beach town. Something is pushing her to experience everything she can – including Aden. But as much as he wants her, starting a relationship with Sawyer puts them both at risk. For Aden, the past doesn’t stay there; it shows up unexpectedly, uncontrollably, and doesn’t care whose life it wrecks.

  He’s not like other guys . . . Don’t miss J. B. Salsbury’s unique and explosive romance, Split, out now.

  To my brother Bo.

  Your contagious love of the ocean and unwavering love for me inspired this story.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to start with a heartfelt thank-you to God for giving me the ability to tell stories.

  Thank you to my husband and two beautiful daughters for their support during the long writing days, the weekends away, and the nights I’m promoting. It is your love that inspires me.

  To my parents, thank you for your constant support. And Dad, thank you for reading every single book I publish. It means so much to me.

  A huge thank-you to my big brother Bo for answering all my questions about deep-sea fishing. This book wouldn’t be what it is without your wisdom, experience, and guidance. You were also the inspiration behind Celia and Sawyer’s undying love for each other, having taught me from a young age what it means to love your sibling unconditionally, support them through life’s trials, and always be available. Love you, bro. PS: Skim the dirty parts, m’kay?

  I’d like to thank Amanda, her husband, Ryan, and her brother Cody for helping me with the military research. The firsthand knowledge you provided was invaluable.

  Thank you to the amazingly talented Claudia Connor for reading for me and for always pushing me to write better. More importantly, thank you for your friendship. Love you, D.

  To my editors Megha Parekh and Amy Pierpont,
as well as everyone at Forever Romance and Eternal, and my agent MacKenzie Fraser-Bub, thank you for believing in me and my stories.

  All my love goes out to the members of JB’s Fun Cage, the bloggers, and all the readers who have supported me through the years. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.

  I want to give a special heartfelt thank-you to all the men, women, and families of the United States Armed Forces who have sacrificed and continue to sacrifice more than we will ever understand. Words would never be enough to show my gratitude for your service and your sacrifice. From the depths of my soul . . . I thank you.

  PROLOGUE

  ADEN

  Three months ago . . .

  “Hey, Sarge, can I have a word?”

  With my ass on a cot and doubled over lacing up my boots, I avoid looking at LaRoy. If I make eye contact he’ll only take that as an invitation to air his concerns. The same bullshit concerns he’s been airing for the last few weeks. “Not now, Private.”

  His boot steps close in, signaling he’s not going to let this shit go. “Colt.”

  With a final tug on my shoestrings, I push up to stand and face my brother-in-arms head-on. “As long as we’ve been fighting side by side, how many times have I let you down?”

  The trained Special Forces soldier in him stiffens his spine and snaps back a quick “Not once, sir,” but his wary expression betrays his strength, showing the worry of a friend.

  “Grant, I said this before and I’ll say it again.” I strap on my gear while I continue. “You have nothing to worry about. The United States government gave us a job, to train Iraqi forces so that they can defend themselves against ISIL. We’ve done that, and we have a formidable team to show for it.”

  “I don’t disagree with you, Aden, but . . .” He turns back toward the sound of our men chanting as they prep for our op—the last op of our deployment before we get to go home back to the States.

  The air is electrified with a palpable energy reminding me of the days before playoff games in high school when the locker room felt alive with the excitement of a team about to annihilate the competition.

  To keep from being overheard, Grant steps closer. “It’s not the men I’m worried about, it’s their leader.”

  I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Al-Bishi is intense, but he’s harmless—”

  “How do you know that, Aden?” There’s anger in his voice and a flash of something wild in his dark eyes.

  “Because he’s a twenty-six-year-old husband and father of two little girls who live in a city that is controlled by evil. He is invested in our mission.”

  He scoffs. “Invested. Is that what he told you?”

  “No, that’s what my gut tells me and my gut hasn’t failed us yet.”

  He steps back with a humorless bark of laughter. “Fine. But I too am invested in our mission, Colt. I’m twenty-eight hours away from a flight home to my wife and baby who I haven’t seen in over a year.”

  “This isn’t a meat-eating op, our only job is to provide backup if needed. Al-Bishi and his men are ready to handle this alone, there’s no reason why you won’t make it home to Kim and Eva.”

  He shrugs. “I’m keeping my eye on that asshole and if I see so much as a muscle twitch in the wrong way I’m puttin’ a fucking bullet in his skull.”

  Now it’s me who steps close. “Grant, I get it. You’re feeling the effects of a fifteen-month deployment. The paranoia, trust me, I fucking get that—”

  “You don’t get shit.” He turns to stomp out of the room, but turns back one last time, his eyes blazing with the angst I heard in his voice. “Strap up, Sarge. As much as you can carry. We’re gonna need it.”

  “Hadhih laysat munawara.” This is not a drill. I address both the Iraqi team as well as my own in Arabic. “We have intel that there are two ISIL leaders currently hiding in this village.” I turn toward Al-Bishi, who is standing at my left. “You’ll take orders from Al-Bishi. My team has been instructed to provide backup only. Any questions?”

  When the group of eighteen stay silent, I nod for Al-Bishi to command his men.

  “Shukraan laky a sadiq.” Thank you, friend.

  It’s never sat well with me that he refers to me as “friend,” as it implies we’re on equal ground when I’m his commanding officer, but I’ve let it slide for the sake of peace. Feeling eyes on me, I find LaRoy glaring a hole right through me. Twenty-four more hours, Grant. Hang in there, brother.

  Al-Bishi runs through the plan to hike the four kilometers to the outskirts of the small village, then to surround the house and when they’re all in position to infiltrate.

  With adrenaline coursing through our veins, we make quick work of the hike down into the valley, making sure to say alert and low to avoid being spotted. The only noise we’re putting off is the steady crunch of our boots to the dirt.

  The scent of livestock alerts me that we’re close, so I motion for my guys to get down and be on the lookout. Pride fills my chest when I see Al-Bishi give a similar command to his men and they follow his order with ease.

  Schmitt pulls up to my side, flashing me an eager smile. I’ve never met anyone as excited for battle as Camden Schmitt. It’s as if he came out of the womb a soldier, and although I dig his enthusiasm, his thirst for combat can make him unpredictable.

  “Don’t.”

  He chuckles quietly. “Oh come on, Sarge. One last time before I go back to Britney and I’m stuck in civilian life.”

  “My job is to get you to your wedding in one piece or Brit will have my balls.”

  I know I don’t need to remind him of our team’s role in this op, but I do anyway. “Backup only, Private.”

  “Party pooper.” He drops behind me as we edge along the wall that runs the length of the small village.

  We spread out behind the Iraqi soldiers and wait for them to enter through the gate. Al-Bishi gives the command and his men pour in like water to surround the house.

  I motion with one arm for my team to follow and as we do, I feel LaRoy has my six. Whatever makes him feel better. I make a note to myself to talk to him about getting some help for his delusions as soon as we hit US soil.

  Seamlessly my team of eight works like appendages of one well-oiled military machine. Having fought side by side for the past seven years, we’re able to read each other’s body language as we file in behind the Iraqi team. My senses are on hyper-drive as I identify the smell of smoke from a dwindling fire, my vision picking up the tidy kitchen and the sounds of—where is everyone?

  My feet freeze. Breathing stills.

  The only sound is the rapid beating of my pulse in my ears.

  This is a surprise ambush on a residential location. Where are the women and kids?

  My mind draws the conclusion just as the sound of rapid fire explodes all around us.

  I point my weapon but don’t see the enemy we’re firing at.

  The plaster walls burst and shatter.

  I drop to the ground. Roll to the kitchen to take cover and that’s when I see them.

  Terrorist militia dressed in all black flood in through the doors and windows. Bodies of men dressed in US fatigues drop all around me with the spray of pink mist.

  We were set up.

  Grant.

  Fuck!

  “It’s a setup!” I fire my weapon, clearing the way to crawl out in search of my men. “Get out!”

  My ears pound as gunfire erupts from every direction. We’re completely surrounded. I grab O’Connor as he’s firing with one hand and dragging a bleeding and unconscious Iraqi soldier with him.

  “Take cover!”

  “No!” He fires and a body drops. “I won’t hide!” A bullet sings past me and buries itself into O’Connor’s neck.

  Blood splatters my face.

  He falls, clutching his throat.

  “Fuck!” I whirl around and send a bullet through the enemy’s cranium.

  Rage overtakes me.

  Al-Bishi
is a dead man.

  Storming through the house I fire at the black-clothed militants, dropping them one by one as I hunt down the Iraqi commander.

  The one I trained myself.

  The one I fucking trusted with not only my life but the life of my men!

  “Al-Bishi!” My throat burns and with the buzz of gunfire in my ears, my voice sounds more like a whisper. “You coward!”

  Then he appears almost as if out of nowhere, or maybe he was searching for me too. Those black eyes shine with the joy of death that I’ve only ever seen in the face of pure evil.

  “Sadiq!” His blood-covered face lights up with the joy that comes from a successful op. “American pig!”

  My death is only seconds away, and as I raise my gun I welcome the burn of the bullet that’ll soon take my life. It’s what I deserve for not listening to Grant.

  Oh God, Grant.

  I say a silent prayer that he’ll forgive me for what I’ve done.

  The pop of gunfire sounds.

  A force slams into me.

  I fall to my back and groan.

  A heavy weight on my lungs makes it impossible to take a full breath.

  Thankfully, there is no pain.

  Only the warm slick blood that flows around my throat.

  I close my eyes, grateful that it’s over, when something smacks my cheek.

  “Sarge! Get up!” Schmitt’s over me and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks scared. “Dustoff inbound!”

  Dustoff. Medivac?

  The ground shakes.

  A bomb dropped.

  “Our backup is here!”

  He heaves the weight off my chest.

  A flash of brown hair coated in blood and gray matter hits my vision.

  With renewed strength I push myself up and—oh God . . . “No!” I grip Grant’s vest and shake him, knowing it’s pointless. One side of his head is gone. “No!”

  It was Grant who fell on top of me.

  He took that bullet for me.

  After I ignored his concerns, he sacrificed his life . . . for me.

  “Sarge, we gotta go!” Schmitt pulls my arms off LaRoy and I scramble to my feet. Bombs continue to shake the walls and small-round fire is still popping off randomly.