Savage predator, p.1
Savage Predator, page 1
Copyright
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Savage Predator copyrighted 2022 by Delta James and Felicity Brandon
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____________________________
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Cover Design: Dar Albert of Wicked Smart Designs
Editing: Sandy Ebel of Personal Touch Editing
Created with Vellum
Savage Predator
Felicity Brandon and Delta James
This Book is Dedicated to Our
Families and Our Readers
Without You, None of This Would be Possible.
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What Started as a Lark Between Two
Shark Week Nerds Has Now
Become a Series
Contents
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Also by Felicity Brandon
About Felicity Brandon
Also by Delta James
About Delta James
Prologue
Their primary mission a failure, five brave men sacrificed themselves to scuttle the USS Kraken, vowing to protect the sub, its secrets, and their failure from ever being known. Each man damned himself and the sons that would follow to a life on eternal patrol as masters of the deep.
Chapter 1
Flynn
Cutting through the water with grace, the mighty predator dove, relishing the waves flowing over his skin. It was highly unusual to find an Oceanic Whitetip this close to shore. They normally liked to roam deep in open water, but then, he was no ordinary shark.
Rocketing toward the inlet, the Oceanic Whitetip was the very picture of power and precision. These were the moments Flynn lived for—the freedom of the ocean and the grounding sense of duty it and the Kraken provided. Like all marine predators, mastering the waves was second nature to him. It wasn’t only the routine of guarding the Kraken he’d come to rely on but the sense of predestined purpose it gave him. This was what he was born to do—patrol the seas and keep the Kraken’s secrets buried. It was all that made sense.
He rushed to the surface at speed, eyeing the beach house that was his destination. His patrol over for another night, Zak had invited him for breakfast at the place he now shared with his new woman, Trinity. Flynn hadn’t eaten in an age and was grateful for the offer as the seabed neared beneath him.
Entering the shallows, he allowed the change to pass through him until his limbs pressed into the wet sand. He climbed to his feet, smoothing his sodden hair back from his face as he lifted it to the sun. He hoped Trinity had rustled up something good to eat because he was starving.
“Hey!”
Flynn glanced up to the deck to find Zak grinning at him.
“Here, take this.” Zak flung a towel at his friend. “I don’t want to traumatize Trin with the state of your body.”
“Yeah, right.” Flynn snorted, climbing up onto the jetty. “Worried she’ll see a real man and drop you like third-period French?”
“Screw you, asshole.” Zak laughed, slapping Flynn on the shoulder as he approached. Flynn wrapped the bath sheet around his waist as he wandered toward the house.
“Seriously, though, thanks for the invite.” Securing the towel, Flynn met Zak’s smile. “I love this place.” Flynn glanced around, taking in the home Zak shared with Trinity.
“It’s Trin’s,” Zak explained. “But we love it, and you guys are always welcome.”
“I hear it used to belong to Mason’s girl, Shiloh,” Flynn replied. “Seems like you two not only got lucky with the ladies but the property as well.”
“Feeling lonely, Flynn?” Zak’s tone was sardonic. “If you need help hooking up with a woman, I can ask Trinity.”
“You can ask Trinity what?” She appeared at the entrance to the French doors. “Hey, Flynn, I didn’t know you’d arrived.”
“Good morning.” Flynn offered Trinity a salute.
“We’d better get better security, baby.” Zak’s gaze slid from Flynn to Trinity. “You know what they say about sharks—the most dangerous one is the one you don’t see coming.”
“You’re safe, I promise.” Flynn chuckled wryly. “I’m a gentleman on land.”
“You’re an Oceanic Whitetip, right?” Trinity filled a nearby cup with coffee and stepped toward him. “Another man-eater?”
“That’s right.” Flynn accepted the cup, inhaling the aroma gratefully. “But only the fourth-deadliest and nothing compared to your Tiger Shark.”
“That’s only because most accounts of Oceanic Whitetip attacks go unrecorded,” Zak smirked as Flynn lifted the coffee to his lips. “You’re as dangerous as we come.”
“Good to know I’m surrounded by savage predators.” Trinity grinned as she glanced at both men. “Why don’t you both come inside? Nash is already waiting.”
Flynn followed them into the light, open-plan space, greeting Nash, who was waiting by the counter.
“Anything to report?” Nash had left his patrol early, leaving Flynn and Mason to conclude their duties for the night.
“No.” Flynn shook his hair out of his eyes. “Nothing new.”
“Good.” Nash straightened, wandering to the table while Zak and Trinity busied themselves in the kitchen. “We’ve had enough drama recently.”
“Any more news about what happened to the Admiral?” Zak asked as he brought a stack of plates to the place Nash waited.
“Nothing yet.” Nash collapsed into a dining chair. “But it seems a little coincidental we were all there that night.” His stare slid around the room. “I’m sure we’re right to connect the dots. It has to have something to do with Schumacher and the Guardian Project.”
A heavy silence fell as Trinity brought a handful of cutlery to the table.
“Here, let me help with that.” Flynn gestured for her to pass the silverware to him. “You have enough to do.”
“Thanks, Flynn.” She flashed him a grateful smile. “The food will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Thanks again for this, Trinity.” Nash stretched out in his chair. “I enjoy being single, but I gotta admit, I’m envious of the attention Zak and Mason have been getting lately, and a decent meal at the end of patrol never goes amiss.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” Zak’s gaze narrowed. “This beautiful lady is mine, and I don’t share. You fellows better find your own.”
“No problem.” Nash snorted, his palms rising in a conciliatory manner. “I’m only here for breakfast.”
Flynn’s lips curled as he set the table. These guys, along with Logan and Mason, were the closest thing he had to a family. Aside from the dark depths of the ocean, there was nowhere he’d rather be.
“Now that I have you both here, I want to talk more about the other matter I discussed with you.” Zak’s brow rose as Flynn and Nash turned to him.
“About Trinity?”
Flynn’s voice was hushed. He assumed Zak would want sensitivity about the issue. Zak had recently discovered his new lover had been treated badly in the past and had tasked them with helping him settle the score once he found the culprit. His animated demeanor suggested perhaps he already had.
“It’s okay,” Trinity snickered from the kitchen. “I can still hear you, you know!”
“Yeah, about Trinity.” Zak’s voice was terse. “About getting our hands on the bastards who hurt her and making them pay.”
“Zak.” Her voice trembled as she returned to the table, grazing his shoulder with one small hand. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me… not now that I have you.”
Flynn exchanged a glance with Nash, sensing the growing intimacy was making Nash as uncomfortable as he felt. He was happy for Zak and Trinity—glad they’d discovered joy in each other’s arms—but it was quite unlike the cavalier Tiger Shark he’d first encountered. Love, it seemed, changed a man, even one who was himself transformative.
“I know, but it matters to me.” Zak clasped her hand. “I want them to pay for what they did to you.”
“Have you found the offenders yet?” Nash cut through the noise with his usu al tact and grace. “Do you know where we can find them?”
“Yeah.” Zak’s jaw tightened. “I wanted to make sure you guys are still in.”
“Sure.” Flynn shrugged. “I’m happy to help, and I know the others will be as well.”
“You know you can count me in,” Nash agreed. “Just name the time and the place.”
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.” Trinity kissed the back of Zak’s neck and drew away. “Right. Who’s hungry?”
As if attempting to answer her, Flynn’s stomach growled angrily. “Apparently, I am.”
“That’s good.” Trinity laughed. “I’ve made enough shakshuka to feed the entire west coast.”
“Glad to hear it!” Nash clapped his hands together. “Few beasts are easier to satisfy than hungry sharks.”
Flynn couldn’t resist the smile that rose at Nash’s quip. It was especially true for him and Zak. Tiger and Bull Sharks weren’t known for being fussy about what they consumed.
“Hey!” Trinity balked, carrying an enormous skillet to the table. “What are you trying to say about my cooking, Mister?”
“Nothing bad, Ma’am. I promise.” Nash grinned, revealing a row of white teeth. “I can’t wait to get started.”
Chapter 2
Devon
Devon Bradford swam up from the depths of her dreams to the sound of her phone ringing. She rolled toward the sound without opening her eyes, feeling around on her nightstand for the thing, her arm flopping around like a dead fish. Groggily, she brought the phone to her ear.
“Bradford. At whatever ungodly time it must be, this had better be good,” she answered with more irritation than was warranted.
“Commander Devon Bradford?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded official. “There’s been an incident in Mexico, Commander.”
The mention of Mexico snapped her awake. The Admiral had been on ‘vacation,’ but what he’d actually been doing had to do with the top-secret Guardian Project. He’d been within a year of retiring and had just been promoted to a Pentagon staff position from a command position in the Middle East. Both political parties had been sniffing around, feeling him out to run for office. The Admiral’s official designation had been a fishing trip to Mexico, but Devon knew he was attending an exploratory meet-and-greet aboard a private yacht.
“What’s happened?”
“I’ll need to authenticate your identity.”
She rolled her eyes, grateful there was no one to see her. “Yes, because some foreign power has someone sleeping in my bed on the off chance I’d be getting this call.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s procedure.”
“Fine, and my apologies. I know you don’t make the rules, and you’re just following orders.”
They ran through the verification protocol.
“Thank you for understanding.” The voice on the other end of the line was monotone.
“Can you tell me what’s happened, please?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to be the one who has to tell you…”
“No,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid so. The Admiral was attending a private party. The yacht had security, as well as the Admiral’s own detail. The ship was attacked by what we believe were terrorists. In trying to save the lives of others and defuse the situation...”
The backroom boys were already trying to spin and control the narrative. They didn’t care about the truth. All they cared about was how it looked. Of course, they would want the Admiral’s death portrayed as heroic.
“… the Admiral was shot and died almost immediately. Other guests and personnel were injured, but the Admiral was the only one killed.”
That sounded suspicious.
“At this time, no one has claimed responsibility, and no suspects have been positively identified or taken into custody. The Judge Advocate General has asked that you suspend all other activities and proceed immediately to base where a Gulfstream 37A will be fueled and ready to go.”
“Why me?” Her mind raced. “Why not NCIS?”
NCIS was the acronym for the United States Government’s Naval Criminal Investigative Service, the investigatory arm for felony crime, counterterrorism, and protecting secrets for the US Navy and Marine Corps.
“The Admiral was killed while on vacation in a foreign country. The Navy offered to send an NCIS team, but the offer was declined. You’ve worked with the Admiral on several occasions, and our diplomatic liaison in Mexico persuaded them to allow you to come and observe their investigation, as well as arrange for military transport of the Admiral’s body back for burial at Arlington.”
Odd, but it makes some sense. The Mexican officials would most likely see a lady JAG lawyer as less threatening than an NCIS investigative agent or unit. The Judge Advocate was no fool. Sending me makes sense since not only do I know the Admiral, but I entered the JAG program via my stint as an MP.
“Did anyone give you any information regarding what I should do with my current workload?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am. I was told you were to provide a brief run-down, as well as any files you might have at home, to a designated courier, who will meet you at the airfield in Mexico.”
“Good enough.” She sighed, already thinking of the million jobs that needed expediting. “Thank you for calling. I have a bag packed and am about thirty minutes from base.”
“There is a car and driver standing by. The Judge Advocate General asked that you proceed with all due haste.”
Devon laughed. “I’m sorry. In the wake of the Admiral’s death, that must sound really inappropriate.”
“Commander, I’m just a second lieutenant. Deciding what’s appropriate is above my pay grade.”
“Good answer.” She was starting to like the guy. “I know the current Judge Advocate General didn’t tell you to tell me to ‘proceed with all due haste.’ What he said was ‘tell her to get her ass in gear, get out there, and find out what the fuck is going on.’”
The lieutenant smothered a laugh. “Yes, ma’am, I do believe that is pretty much a direct quote.”
“I’ll be down in ten minutes or less.”
“Thank you, Ma’am, and my condolences for your loss.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Devon ended the call and glanced at her cell phone. Tossing back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Damn, it was early, but as she’d found out a long time ago, the Navy never sleeps.
Staggering into the shower, she washed her body and hair with a speed and efficiency that bespoke her more than a decade in the service. Devon had entered Annapolis right out of high school, been able to attend law school immediately upon graduation and graduated from Officer Training all before her active service began. Instead of a steppingstone to a better life in the future, Devon had found her home and her future in the Navy.
Pulling on her everyday uniform, she applied minimal makeup, then quickly French braided her long hair, tucking the excess length back up under itself and firmly to her head. Grabbing her hat and her go-bag, she was exiting the front door of her Georgetown row home exactly ten minutes later.
A uniformed officer jumped out of a car, showed her his ID, and opened the door. Taking her gear, he stowed it in the back. There wasn’t much traffic at this time of night, but it wouldn’t be long before the beltway commuters clogged the freeways and played bumper cars.
As promised, there was a modified Gulfstream 37A waiting for her. She took her bag from the driver and ran up the stairs onto the plane. As soon as the hatch was secure and her seat belt was in place, the plane taxied onto the runway.
