Hemingway (SEAL Team Alpha Book 11)

  Hemingway

  SEAL Team Alpha

  Zoe Dawson

  Hemingway

  Copyright © 2019 by Karen Alarie

  Cover Art © Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  About the Author

  OTHER TITLES BY ZOE DAWSON

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my beta readers, reviewers and editor for helping with this book, especially Lisa Fournier for her excellent help. As always, you guys are the best.

  To all those amazing men who are thinking about BUD/S. Hoo-yah!

  Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will

  Mahatma Gandi

  1

  NCIS Special Operations, San Diego, California

  Special Agent Shea Palmer was asked to come to the San Diego office for Special Operations without any explanation. But she was used to changing directions with ease. She spent most of her time on high-risk deployments or undercover. That’s what she did for NCIS. Pretend to be someone else.

  She headed up to Rebecca Lawrence’s office, and it was feeling very official, something that was hush hush—confidential, covert and classified. The three big C’s.

  “Please have a seat, Agent Palmer,” Rebecca said as she finished up something on her screen. She’d indicated the conference table in her office, so Shea pulled out a chair, giving Rebecca a puzzled, but interested look.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Rebecca said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Busy day as usual.” She set a file down in front of her and reached for the clicker on the table for the widescreen mounted on the wall. She pressed the clicker and the picture of a man flashed onto the screen.

  “Ryan Easton, deceased, former leader of New World Order, now defunct. He and several of his members took over Moonbeam Horizon in the Santa Barbara Channel, where Easton was killed along with numerous other members of his organization. His compound was also raided, and everyone rounded up and incarcerated. That was an impressive operation,” Shea said. “They believe that Saudi Arabia played a bigger hand in training and equipping the terrorist on 9/11. They weren’t keen on oil and gas companies linked to the Saudis.”

  Rebecca clicked on the screen and it went to black. “You do your homework.”

  “Anything that has to do with terrorism is in my bailiwick, so I stay informed.”

  “Do you know what it takes to enter training to become a Navy SEAL, Shea?”

  “Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training or BUD/S,” she said, then shifted in her seat, a smile forming on her face. “It takes a special person, not only to endure the tests, but have the drive to get past every obstacle no matter the difficulty. It’s designed to make you quit.” She paused and then said, “It’s damned hard, ma’am,”

  Rebecca nodded. “New World Order is not defunct.”

  Shea sat up straighter, frowning. “We missed someone?”

  “Several someones, apparently.” She leaned forward. “I have an undercover assignment for you.”

  Shea pinned Rebecca with a firm gaze. “What’s the mission?”

  Rebecca’s eyes beamed. “One of the captured terrorists said something else had been planned. Something big.” She depressed the clicker and an image of Coronado came up. “He indicates that several younger members of the order have received a Navy contract for BUD/S, and they are planning on making a statement. The only thing he could give us was the class number. We don’t have names or descriptions.”

  “How is that possible? These guys are militants. How did they get through without getting snagged in the psyche eval?”

  “Apparently, they had a former SEAL who had become disillusioned with the service and he coached them and from the reports I’ve gotten, he did a good job.”

  “I see. That’s disturbing. What’s my cover?”

  “We want you to go in as a videographer to root out who is part of the order and stop whatever they have planned. We think, with your background, you can rise to the challenge.” Rebecca leaned back and regarded her with shrewd eyes. “There’s another catch. At this time, no one, not even the instructors will know you’re undercover, but assignments are always fluid. So, if things change on that front, I will brief you.”

  There was silence in the room. Dealing with a bunch of aggressive, alpha males would be nothing new. She had enough to deal with in NCIS, where she had to work a bit harder to prove herself, not only as a female agent, but as an undercover one.

  But proving herself had been something she’d been doing since she realized that her dad had wanted all boys instead of the one son and two daughters he got.

  “BUD/S is twenty-four weeks,” Rebecca said, “with Hell Week on the fourth week.”

  Shea knew what Hell Week was, and it would be grueling for her to film for that long, but much harder on the trainees.

  “You expect me to follow them all the way through to graduation?”

  “It depends. If you discover who the members are in the class any time before they graduate, we can pull you out.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  Rebecca nodded. “We have a mission to protect our sailors and this incoming class is made up of some tough, elite guys. We can’t afford to lose one of them to anything, not training or terrorist acts.”

  Shea had taken an oath when she’d joined NCIS. This was probably one of the more important missions they’d asked her to do, protecting not only her country but also the young men who would be the future of the Navy SEALs. She was ready to do her job no matter the mission. She never backed down. “When do I start?” Shea asked.

  Rebecca nodded. “All right. BUD/S commences in a week on Coronado.” She pulled out a packet. “Here is your press pass, and you will be provided with a quick and dirty training on the camera that we’ll also provide you with.”

  “When?”

  “Someone will be in touch.”

  After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Rebecca said.

  A woman entered, seasoned with experienced brown eyes, her dark hair pulled back off her attractive face, accenting her sharp cheekbones and firm jaw.

  “Mak,” Shea said with affection.

  “Hi, weary traveler,” Mak said with a smile as Shea rose and they hugged briefly. Special Operations had a few offices sprinkled around the area to handle all NCIS investigative and undercover needs.

  “Mak, Chris, Kai and Paige were part of the team who brought down NWO,” Rebecca said.

  “Where’s Vargas?” Shea asked, thinking the handsome agent was always fun to
hang out with when Shea was back in San Diego between assignments. In fact, Makayla Ballentine, formerly Littlestar, who had been recently married, Kai Talbot and Paige Wilder were all great to sit down with and share shop talk and catch up with their personal lives, well as much as Shea was willing to share since her recent loss had crippled her ability to be carefree.

  “Chris is on another assignment, an investigation into pilot deaths aboard the USS James McCloud,” Mak said. She closed the door and sat down. “Let’s get started.” Mak opened the file she’d brought with her.

  They had discussed possible suspects after looking at the large class of recruits. Since Shea had never been to that part of the base, she and Mak headed over to Naval Amphibious Base Coronado for a walkthrough of the BUD/S compound. Coronado, for all intents and purposes, was an island connected to the mainland by a narrow strip of eight miles of sand called the Silver Strand. NAB was the West Coast shore base for naval amphibious operations, including training and special warfare. Naval Surface Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet, Naval Special Warfare Command and Expeditionary Warfare were all housed there. The North Island Naval Air Station, known as NAS North Island, providing maintenance, training, and repair for the Naval Air Command of the Pacific Fleet, was located to the north.

  Inundated with tourists, the island had many shops and restaurants to keep them amused and relaxed with the western end of Orange Avenue, the main hub, anchored by Hotel del Coronado, or just Hotel del, as it was called by locals. The elegant hotel boasted royalty, movie stars, including Marilyn Monroe and presidents as some of the honored guests.

  Shea’s major concern was how open the beaches were. The location was beautiful, but it made it a challenge to secure the area. She asked a lot of questions about security that didn’t allay her concerns. If someone wanted to get explosives on this part of the base, it would be a logistical nightmare to cover every inch of the area.

  But lives were on the line, and she intended to do her best. No one was going to die on her watch.

  O-course, Naval Base Coronado, Coronado California

  “Move your ass!” Bowie “Ruckus” Cooper shouted as Atticus “Hemingway” Sinclair approached the weaver, a set of pipes in a wood frame that came to a peak, requiring a weaving in-between them to the next pipe to progress. He was about halfway through the course as one final run through before he had to report for BUD/S.

  Present were all of Ruckus’s team, as well as, Will “Shadow” Blackmoon which was fitting. They had been instrumental in helping him to prepare for the beginning of his journey into becoming a SEAL. He knew he had an advantage over the other men who were entering his class—163 of them—to vie for a coveted position of special operator.

  He moved faster onto the Burma Bridge—a bridge made of rope—the Hooyah logs and the rest of the course to finish in seven minutes, twelve seconds.

  “You shaved off a full minute,” Ruckus said as Hemingway made his way toward the tight-knit team. They converged on him with fist bumps and slaps on the back.

  “He might not suck at this,” Jude “Hollywood” Lock said with a grin.

  “Lunch at the All In on Ruckus,” Ashe “Kid Chaos” Wilder said, laughing when Ruckus gave him a scowl.

  Over lunch, the guys talked about missions and combat, all the times they’d saved Kid’s ass.

  “Hey, I saved your asses too, especially Cowboy when he’d been wounded, and we were running through the jungle.” Wes “Cowboy” McGraw was the number two man on the team and their master chief.

  “Right. Wasn’t that when you stole the drug runners’ jeep and got them gunning for you too?” Wicked asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, small details. I still saved him.” Kid waved his hand in a dismissive motion.

  “Then there was the time we needed transportation, and Kid showed up with donkeys,” Ocean “Blue” Beckett said. All the guys started to laugh and shove each other. Ruckus shook his head.

  “Bunch of animals.” He turned to Hemingway and raised his beer to his lips and drank. “I’ve only got one piece of advice for you, kid.”

  “I’ll take whatever you got, sir.”

  “Be better than anyone there—faster, stronger, smarter. Stay off the instructors list by always being a winner any way you can. When the hell of Hell Week wears you down, boost the others. It will make you feel like you’re part of something…because you are. I’m proud to have had you as a trainee, and we’re rooting for you.”

  “Hoo-yah!” The team sounded as one.

  Hours later, Hemingway dropped his bag by the front door of the house he shared with his dad, intending to get a hotel room closer to the base before reporting to Coronado the next morning. His sister Paige, niece Chloe, brother-in-law Ashe and dad trailed after him. Paige was still pensive and in a mood all morning. He knew she was worried about him going off to the next leg of his SEAL journey, but all he could do was reassure her that he was going to be fine.

  Turning toward his family, Paige passed Chloe to Kid and said, “You’ll be careful, won’t you, Atty?”

  “Christ, Paige, don’t get crazy on him.”

  She turned to her husband and said, “I have every right, and you close your smart mouth, Ashe.”

  “Yeah, or she’s going to kick some Ashe.”

  His dad chuckled and Kid rolled his eyes. “That was so lame,” Kid groused, looking at his niece, who babbled her opinion. “Yeah, what she said.”

  Paige dashed at her eyes with the back of her fingers, and Hemingway pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, no. No waterworks. I’ll be okay, sis. I promise.”

  “I love you, Atty. Be careful, and we’d better see you when you have a break in the training,” she demanded in a watery voice.

  “I will. As often as I can,” he hedged. He had no idea what kind of time he would have to come home and didn’t want to get her hopes up it would be on a regular basis. He wasn’t unaware that his life was going to change drastically. He had no idea where he was going to be assigned after BUD/S. He felt a pang of sadness for leaving his family behind, but the excitement, anticipation, and his need to prove himself overshadowed his sorrow.

  He’d had a taste of what it would be like in combat when he’d saved his sister from the Cortez Brothers’ compound only a few weeks ago. An adrenaline rush mixed with triumph and relief that he’d not only held his own but was instrumental in saving Paige. He smiled softly remembering Oliver “Artful Dodger” Graham and his antics during that whole ordeal.

  Chloe started fussing, and Hemingway took her from Kid, kissing her baby soft cheek, making her giggle. “I think she needs changing,” Kid said.

  “I’ll do it. I don’t want to see him leave,” Paige said.

  Kid reached out suddenly, brushing her arm, shooting her dad a pensive look. His father-in-law acknowledged it and reached out and hugged Hemingway unexpectedly. “I think I said my piece. Be yourself, Atty. Everything else is just not important.”

  “Thank you, Dad, for everything.” Hemingway hugged him hard, then let him go. His dad went after Paige, but not before Hemingway saw the soft gleam in his eyes.

  “Damn,” he said softly under his breath.

  Kid watched Hemingway’s dad go after Paige and his shoulders relaxed. “She’s going to be all right, Kid. She’s stronger than you are.”

  Kid turned back to him, his eyes haunted. “She needs to be. It’s a lot to handle, and I feel guilty that she’s giving up field work.”

  “Don’t. She loves being a mom to Chloe, and I think it’s a good thing she’s dropping down to part time.”

  Kid sighed as his wife disappeared down the hall. “She is a great mom. She records everything for me, so I don’t miss anything.” Kid cleared his throat.

  “She shows Chloe your picture and talks about you all the time.” Hemingway rolled his eyes. “Your daughter is going to know you, Kid. Stop worrying and do what you do best.”

  “Be a menace?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Kid smiled
, the shadows gone from his eyes, but in their place was a shining gratitude. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most. That will never sit right with me, Atty.” Kid swallowed hard. “But you were. My brothers were and her colleagues were. It will always be the case that I will be deployed often, and I’ll have to juggle both being a SEAL and my precious family.” He closed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He took another hard breath and opened them, his voice subdued. “Thank you for being there for her, Atty. I’ll never forget that you jeopardized everything for her.”

  Hemingway blinked rapidly and looked away. “She gave up everything for me, Kid. I will always be there for all of you just the way you were there for me.” It was his turn to take a heavy breath. “Thank you, Kid, for everything you did for me. I feel more than ready to become a ‘team guy.’”

  “I think we both know, you already are.”

  Kid one-arm hugged him and said “You need anything, let us know. Be safe and kick ass.”

  “Not sure how I can do both.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Hoo-yah, Atty.”

  “Hoo-yah, Kid.”

  When he drove to the ferry to take him over to the island, choosing the slow ocean scenic route instead of the two-mile long Coronado Bridge, he disembarked and drove his gunmetal gray Jeep named Gladiator, the model appealing to him as a warrior and fit his surfboard nicely in the bed of the four-seater truck, to his hotel just a block away from NAB and parked. He had to report tomorrow, but he had an evening to fill. He left his hotel and walked to a nearby club located on Orange Avenue, Coronado’s main artery, which was lined with shops, restaurants, galleries, theaters and a museum. The vantage point offered stunning views of San Diego’s downtown skyline.