Lambert's Lady Read online

Defending Chloe (Dec 2018)

  more to come!

  Stand Alone

  The Guardian Mist

  Nature’s Rift

  A Princess for Cale

  A Moment in Time- A Collection of Short Stories

  Special Operations Fan Fiction

  http://www.stokeraces.com/kindle-worlds.html

  Beyond Reality Series

  Outback Hearts

  Flaming Hearts

  Frozen Hearts

  Writing as Annie George:

  Stepbrother Virgin (erotic novella)

  About the Author

  New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Susan Stoker has a heart as big as the state of Texas where she lives, but this all American girl has also spent the last fourteen years living in Missouri, California, Colorado, and Indiana. She’s married to a retired Army man who now gets to follow her around the country.

  She debuted her first series in 2014 and quickly followed that up with the SEAL of Protection Series, which solidified her love of writing and creating stories readers can get lost in.

  If you enjoyed this book, or any book, please consider leaving a review. It’s appreciated by authors more than you’ll know.

  www.stokeraces.com

  [email protected]

  Protecting Dakota Sample

  BLURB

  Dakota James’ life has become the stuff of nightmares. The leader of the Ansar al-Shari’a terrorist group has become obsessed with her, determined to take her as his wife. On the run, she’ll have to pin her hopes on the retired SEAL charged with finding and stopping Aziz Fourati before he can carry out plans to bomb more US airports.

  Recently recruited to join a sleeper SEAL team tasked with fighting terrorism on US soil, Slade “Cutter” Cutsinger, with the help of some Special Forces friends, has located the one woman who can identify the deadly Ansar al-Shari’a leader. That was the easy part. Keeping her safe proves more difficult than anyone ever imagined.

  When she and her new friend, Caroline, are kidnapped by the terrorist group, Dakota can only pray Cutter and the SEALs will reach them before they’re taken out of the country—and away from Cutter forever.

  ** Protecting Dakota is the 9th book in the SEAL of Protection series. It is also a part of the “Sleeper SEAL” connected series. Each book is a stand-alone, with no cliffhanger endings.

  Chapter One

  “Hey, Wolf, how’d it go?” Slade “Cutter” Cutsinger asked the SEAL as he entered the office on the Naval base.

  “I’d tell ya, Cutter, but then I’d have to kill you,” Wolf joked as he smiled at Slade.

  It was a long-running joke between the two men. Slade was a retired SEAL himself, now working as a contractor for the Navy. He worked directly under Patrick Hurt, Wolf’s commander. Slade probably knew more about the mission Wolf and his team had been on than Wolf did himself.

  “The commander’s waiting in his office for a debrief,” Slade told the other man with a chin lift, indicating the door to his right. “All good at home? Caroline okay?”

  “She’s good,” Wolf told him. “Thanks for asking. And I should’ve said something before now, but I appreciate you checking on her during that last mission. She’s used to them, as much as she can be used to her spouse leaving for who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long. She told me you helped make her and the others feel better about that mission. You know if you ever need anything, all you’ve got to do is ask.”

  “I do know, and it’s appreciated,” Slade told him.

  He hadn’t ever worked in the field with Wolf or the other guys on his team, but he respected the hell out of all of them. They were extremely successful on their missions, didn’t take absurd chances, and most importantly to Slade, all took care of their families. And by “take care,” Slade meant they realized how precious their women and children were and worked their asses off to make sure they knew it. They didn’t sleep around on them. If they were running late on a mission, Wolf always made sure Slade checked up on their families. And they had tracking devices on their women, just in case.

  Slade wasn’t supposed to know about the trackers, but his friend, Tex, had let that little gem slip one night when they were shooting the shit on the phone. Slade had worked on a team with Tex before he’d been medically retired, and hadn’t ever found another man for whom he had more respect. When he’d found out about Tex marrying, and then adopting a child from Iraq, he’d been almost as proud for the man as Tex probably was himself.

  They’d been talking on the phone one night and Tex had told him that his wife, Melody, had given birth to a little girl named Hope, then he’d told Slade that he’d be damned if any of their enemies got their hands on his baby. With his wife’s approval and encouragement, he’d had a bracelet made for his daughter to wear with a tiny tracking device. That’s when he’d let the cat out of the bag about the women who belonged to Wolf’s team also voluntarily wearing similar jewelry.

  Slade had felt a little melancholy that he hadn’t ever found a woman he cared about enough to want to protect like that…and who would let him. His ex, Cynthia—not Cindy; God forbid someone call her Cindy—didn’t have much interest in anything he did and by the end of their four-year marriage, the feeling was definitely mutual.

  All his life, he’d wanted to feel a special connection with a woman. For some reason, he had a feeling he’d just know when he met her. In his twenties, he hadn’t been too anxious to find her because he’d been young and eager to make a difference in the Navy. In his thirties, he was ready to settle down, even though he was neck deep working on the SEAL teams. And now, in his late forties, he felt way too old to try to start a serious relationship. He figured he’d lost his chance.

  So now he was a confirmed bachelor who kept tabs on the families of the SEALs that worked for Commander Hurt instead.

  Mentally shrugging, Slade tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him. He missed the action of being on a SEAL team, but he was definitely too old to do the work of the younger men anymore. He gladly left it to them.

  The phone next to him rang, and Slade answered. “Cutsinger. How may I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Slade Cutsinger. Is this he?”

  Slade didn’t recognize the voice, but he definitely recognized the authority behind the words.

  “Yes, Sir. I’m Cutsinger.”

  “This is retired Navy Commander Greg Lambert. Is this line secure?”

  Slade was taken aback. He didn’t remember ever working with a Greg Lambert, and he had a good memory. “No, Sir, it is not. If you need to talk to Commander Hurt, I recommend—”

  “It’s you I need,” Greg interrupted. “I’m going to give you a phone number. I expect you to call me tonight from a secure line. I have a proposition for you.”

  “No disrespect, Sir, but I don’t know you,” Slade said, having trouble keeping his tone professional. He didn’t mind taking orders, but usually he knew the person who was giving those orders.

  “You don’t, but we have a mutual friend who speaks highly of you.”

  When he didn’t continue, Slade asked, “A mutual friend?”

  “John Keegan.”

  Fuckin’ A. Tex. What the hell had the man gotten him into now? “He’s one of the best men I’ve ever met,” Slade told Greg honestly.

  “Ditto. Got a pen?”

  “Yeah.” Slade dutifully jotted down the number he was given.

  “Needless to say, this is a highly sensitive matter. John assured me that you were discreet and would be extremely interested.”

  “At least he’s half right,” Slade mumbled, and ignored the chuckle on the other end of the line. “I’ll call around nineteen hundred, if that’s all right.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” And the former commander ended the call without another word.

  Slade slowly hung up the phone on his end, lost in thought. He tried to quash the spark of interest that flared deep in his belly, but didn’t quite
succeed. Working as a contractor for the US Navy kept his toe dipped into the dangerous waters he used to swim in, but it wasn’t the same. Somehow, he knew that whatever Lambert had to say to him tonight would change his life. Whether or not it was for the better remained to be seen.

  “What the fuck have you gotten me into now, Tex?” Slade asked as soon as his friend picked up the phone.

  “Hello to you too, Cutter. How’s the weather out there in California? Let me guess, you’re sitting on the balcony of your apartment watching the ocean and wishing you weren’t bored off your ass.”

  “Asshole,” Slade said with a smile. Tex knew him too well. That’s what happened when you worked side by side, getting shot at and saving each other’s lives too many times to count. “I got a call from a former Commander Lambert today. He said you two talked about me.”

  “Not beating around the bush, I see,” Tex said.

  “I’m supposed to call him back in thirty on a secure line,” Slade told his old teammate.

  “Gotcha. Lambert is one of the good guys. Worked with him a few times. He has a new job, under the table, and wanted the names of some of the best of the best former SEALs I knew. You were at the top of that list.”

  “Under the table?” Slade asked. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  “Nothing we haven’t been involved with before,” Tex reassured him. “Hear him out.”

  “You been briefed on this job?”

  “No. I know Lambert wanted to ask me to help out, but with Hope being so young and Akilah still settling in, I didn’t want to do anything that would take me away from home,” Tex told him.

  Slade got that. If he had a wife and new baby, not to mention a recently adopted teenager, he wouldn’t want to leave home either. Feeling restless, he got up and went into his apartment. “You have your hands full with all the teams you work with as well,” Slade told his old friend.

  “That I do. But I love it. I enjoy being involved in all aspects of our Armed Forces. But it’s more than that. I do it to keep the men safe so they can get home to their families.”

  “It’s more appreciated than you’ll ever know,” Slade told Tex.

  As if uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, Tex replied, “That being said, even though I’m not the man for this job, you need anything, you better call. You know no one can find needles in haystacks better than me.”

  “I don’t know, man. I hear there’s a chick in Texas who’s giving you a run for your money,” Slade teased.

  “I’ll deny it if it comes up later, but that’s no lie,” Tex said immediately. “Beth is amazing, and she’s been able to hack into some places I wouldn’t even have tried.”

  Glancing at his watch, and seeing his time was up, Slade reluctantly said, “Gotta run. Appreciate the head’s up and the confirmation that this is on the up and up.”

  “Anytime. I wasn’t kidding, Cutter,” Tex said in a hard voice. “You need anything, you call. I don’t know what Lambert has up his sleeve, but I’m guessing since he didn’t brief me when he called, he wants whatever he’s asking to be on the down-low…meaning you working alone since you’re retired, but nothing is ever fucking solo when it comes to my teams.”

  “I’ll see what he has to say and make the decision whether or not to bring in anyone else,” Cutter told Tex. “But I hear you. I’ll call if I need you.”

  “Good. Later.”

  “Later,” Slade echoed and clicked off the phone. He put his personal cell down on the arm of the chair he was sitting in and took a deep breath. Inhaling the scent of salt and sea drifting through the open balcony door, he took a moment to try to calm his mind and body. The pesky feeling that his life was about to change was relentless.

  Slade thought about his life. He liked it…for the most part. His oceanside apartment was perfect for him. Not huge, not tiny. He’d saved up his money while he was active duty, and his retirement check wasn’t anything to sneeze at. He had a fancy-ass 4K television in the living room behind him, good friends he worked with who he had drinks with every so often, and he could be in the ocean swimming in three minutes, if he was so inclined.

  His family was good. His sister, Sabrina, was married with three kids, and his brother also had a wife and two kids. His siblings were both younger than he was, and lived on the other side of the country. He didn’t see his nieces and nephews often, but when he did, it was as if no time at all had passed. He missed his parents, but he’d never had the kind of relationship with them where they’d communicated on a regular basis.

  But Slade had to be honest with himself. He was lonely. He had a great apartment, a good job, but no one to share his life with. He’d tried online dating, that had been a disaster, and he was way too fucking old to pick up chicks at Aces Bar and Grill, the notorious hangout for current and former Navy SEALs. It had become less of a pick-up joint since it was now owned by Jessyka Sawyer, the wife of one of Wolf’s teammates, but a bar would always be a bar and there would always be women trolling for a one-night stand or the chance to snag a military guy, and men hoping for a quick hook-up.

  Without giving himself a chance to get any more morose than he already was, Slade picked up the secure cell phone he’d been issued by the Navy so he could talk to Commander Hurt and the SEALs under his command, and brought it back out to the balcony with him. He dialed the former Commander Lambert’s number.

  “Right on time,” the commander said as a greeting. “Bodes well for our working relationship.”

  “I’m not sure I want a working relationship with you,” Slade told him honestly.

  “This line is secure, correct?” Greg asked.

  Irritated that he’d think for a second he’d call on one that wasn’t when the man had made it more than clear he wouldn’t talk otherwise, Slade bit out, “Yes.”

  Greg chuckled. “Had to ask. No offense intended. You talk to John?”

  “Just hung up with him,” Slade confirmed.

  “Figured. I’m just going to get right down to it, if you don’t mind.”

  “I prefer it, actually,” Slade said, his body tensing with whatever he was about to hear.

  “I’m in charge of a new initiative, a secret one, to take down sleeper cells of terrorists around the country. The fuckers are getting the drop on us, and it needs to stop. I’ve been authorized to mobilize my own brand of sleeper cells…retired SEALs.”

  Slade wasn’t sure he understood. “And?”

  “And I want you, Cutter. I’ve read your file. I know your strengths and weaknesses. I’ve spoken with John and some of your other teammates. You’re levelheaded and you gather all the intel before jumping into anything. You’re determined and have a love for your country that isn’t matched by many people. But more importantly, you’ve been successful on your own.”

  “I was never on my own,” Slade protested. “Not once. Even if I went in to get a hostage, my team was at my back.”

  “I know that.” Greg backed off a bit. “What I meant was that when the shit hit the fan, you didn’t panic. You simply changed to Plan B…or C, D, or E. I need you.”

  Slade took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was curious. Dammit. “Tell me more,” he demanded grumpily.

  “Six months ago, there was a bombing at LAX.”

  When the other man didn’t elaborate, Slade prompted, “Yeah? I remember it. There was one bomber, he took a handful of hostages. The building was in the process of being evacuated, but the fucker blew himself up, along with all of the hostages, before everyone was out. Ansar al-Shari'a took responsibility.”

  “Correct. That’s what was reported in the news,” Greg said.

  The hair on the back of Slade’s neck stood on end. “That’s what was reported on the news?” he repeated.

  “Yes. Internet chatter has been extremely active. The bomber was a college kid. He’d been recruited online. The leader’s name is Aziz Fourati. Government believes he’s Tunisian, and based on the success of the LAX bombing
, he’s actively recruiting more soldiers. He wants to duplicate his success…on a national level.”

  “Jesus,” Slade swore. “If we thought 9/11 was bad, if he’s successful, he could cripple transportation in this country for months.”

  “Exactly. But that’s not all.”

  “Fuck. What else?”

  “He was there,” Greg said flatly.

  “Where?”

  “At the bombing. He was one of the so-called hostages. Gave a speech and everything right before the kid pulled the trigger and blew everyone sky-high.”

  “How do you know?” Slade demanded.

  “All security cameras at the airport were jammed right before everything went down. So there’s no public video of anything that happened inside, but someone’s been posting audio and video on the Dark Web of his speech on the Internet, and using it as a recruitment tool.”

  Slade knew there was more. “And? Jesus, spit it out.”

  “Besides Fourati, who slipped out right before the bomber let loose, there was one other survivor.”

  The words seemed to echo across the phone line. “What? Who?”

  “Her name is Dakota James. She was supposed to be flying to a conference in Orlando that day.”

  “There wasn’t ever anything in the newspaper,” Slade protested. “How do you know for sure?”

  “I’ve got copies of the propaganda videos Fourati has been sending to his minions. She’s there, but her body wasn’t one of those found when the pieces of that section of the airport were sorted. Lo and behold, she showed up at work the next week with a broken arm. Told her co-workers she’d fallen down a flight of stairs.”

  “So, what’s the deal? What’d she say about the bombing?”

  “That’s just it,” Greg told Slade. “She’s in the wind.”

  “She’s gone? What about her job?”