Conceit (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 1) Read Free Page B

only had herself to blame. “Please, Grant, if what we had meant anything to you, please help me exonerate Joaquín.”
    My eyes met hers, and I cupped her face, fighting the urge to kiss her. “You meant everything to me. You know that.”
    She pulled away from me, her bottom lip quivering. “I came back.”
    “You left me. Period. You can never come back.” As much as I loved Mia, I could never give her another chance. I refused to let myself rely on any woman after she had abandoned me. I didn’t need that type of stress. My job was consuming—my personal life had to provide me stability and comfort. Or at the very least, simple release.
    “But—I need you.”
    I’d needed her once also. Now, I needed her to leave. “I can’t help you. I’ll do anything I can to clear Joaquín, you know that. But my hands are tied. You need to leave.” I pushed her out of the entryway and slammed the door behind her, never looking back. I wish I could say it was easy, shutting her out of my life again, but her scent still lingered in the air, my heart remaining with it.
    I hoped I never had to see her again, which was now a realistic option since her brother was in jail.
    Still, my heart ached for her, and for my swim buddy. There was no way Joaquín could’ve intentionally killed that stripper. Maybe he’d just gotten too rough in bed. Regardless, the reputation of our Team was now tarnished. The public was supposed to see us as heroes who rescued hostages from the ISIS, freed boat captains from pirates, assassinated leaders of terrorist regimes. Not as a bunch of sex-crazed, hard-partying hooligans with no morals. The average American citizens would be blown away if they learned the truth about our lifestyle—just last month we had rescued some kidnapped USO cheerleaders from insurgents and my boy Pat had saved his wife Annie from a sex-ring in Aruba. We worked hard, we partied harder. And no way would I ever apologize for what any of us had to do to relieve our stress. The intensity of our lives was unfathomable to most.
    Even so, Mia had been it for me. I’d once found enough comfort in her touch to forget my daily burdens. But no more. I would never allow another woman to distract me from being a warrior. Plenty of girls wanted to be fucked by a Navy SEAL, some real-life hero to step off the pages of their favorite romance novel. I was now more than happy to use them the way they used me. Mia was the only woman I’d ever loved, and when she left, I’d closed my heart to anyone else.
    ***

 

     
     
    I SPENT TWO DAYS SCOURING every inch of Joaquín’s apartment, but came up empty-handed. Nothing—no shady receipts, no weird email messages. Everything was clean. Too clean, as if someone had already scrubbed any evidence from the place.
    I wanted to crash Tiffany’s funeral to search for clues, but I definitely didn’t want to affront her family, who would no doubt boot the sister of the man who’d murdered their beloved daughter. I skipped the service, uncertain what to do next.
    Any day now, the remaining men on Joaquín’s Team could be deployed, and after that, who knew when I’d be able to see them again. I’d lost my inside connections, no Grant, no Joaquín. I had only one way to see them all.
    Today I was going to head to the Pickled Frog. The bar was a dive where all the SEALs went any time one of their men had passed. The looming death toll never seemed to wane—a training accident, a downed helicopter, an embassy upheaval. I’d been to enough SEAL funerals during the two years that I dated Grant to know the drill. One by one, each man would lay down his trident, the SEAL insignia, on the deceased man’s coffin. Then they’d get wasted. Even though Joaquín was still technically alive, I was pretty sure they’d be mourning the loss of their Teammate.
    The Pickled Frog was more than a watering hole; it was a safe haven for heroes. Men who needed to drown their sorrows in hard liquor, men who