Smug
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I don’t recognize the classy woman in the mirror staring back at me―sensible hair, nude lipstick, curves bound in the finest business suit. I have dedicated my life to uncovering the secrets of the SEAL Teams. Hoping one day, I’ll be able to find out who kidnapped my sister.
As a NCIS agent investigating the Teams, there is no margin for error. I have to maintain professionalism at all times. I didn’t count on being forced to work with the resident SEAL bad boy, Mitch Martinez. But opening up to Mitch is the key to unraveling the secrets of the Teams. Any sacrifice will be worth it if I can discover what happened to my sister. Mitch may tempt me, but I’ll never let him into my heart.
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Smug - Alana Albertson
1
Ashley
Morning dew blanketed the concrete with moisture, further impeding my investigation into the death of United States Naval Officer Paul Thompson.
I’d spent a few hours in the BUD/S compound, scouring every inch of the crime scene. But it was clean, too clean. Paul had been found clutching his pistol, a bullet right through his head. The perfect suicide.
Or was it?
I stared down at Paul’s body. Desperate to find a final clue. Something that would break this case wide open.
Grant Carrion, one of the most honorable SEALs I had ever met, had spent the better part of the morning assisting me. He had answered all my questions, given me access to Paul’s locker, even rounded up some fellow SEALs so I could ask them questions.
But unfortunately, I still had no leads.
Nothing was out of the ordinary. Paul hadn’t complained about anything recently at work. He’d shown up today on time and had displayed no obvious signs of distress. He’d taken his weapon out of the armory, walked out to the grinder where the newest BUD/S class had been scheduled to begin training in less than fifteen minutes, and then, by all accounts, shot himself in the head. Navy SEAL Mitch Martinez had been the one to discover him. Within minutes, there were hundreds of SEALs on the grinder, no doubt destroying evidence, before someone had finally called NCIS.
And the Naval Special Warfare Base was located on the most beautiful beach in the world. Coronado. This scandal would rip through the small island, leaving vicious gossip in its wake. I was only steps away from the beautiful Hotel del Coronado, where Marilyn Monroe had filmed Some Like It Hot, and where L. Frank Baum had found the inspiration to write The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. There was no room for murder, suicide, and scandal in The Crown City.
Grant stood in front of me, and I focused my gaze on his wedding ring. Is there anything else you need from me, Ashley?
Though I was painfully aware that he was strictly off-limits, I couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful man with sun-kissed blond hair, emerald-green eyes, and an incredible body. He had been single when we’d hooked up once while I was deeply undercover, but Grant was now a married man. His wife was Mia Cruz Carrion, a woman who I couldn’t stand. A woman who I was still convinced had something to hide. A woman who I hoped to never see again.
Actually, I had one more question. About Mitch.
Grant laughed. Mitch? Yeah, he still wants you. He seems like a jerk, but he’s a solid man. He could surprise you.
I felt my cheeks warm. Oh no, I didn’t mean that at all. I’m not interested in him. I want to know if you have noticed anything off about Mitch recently.
Grant gave me a reluctant smile. Nope, I’ve got nothing. He’s the same cocky asshole he’s always been. But don’t take my word for it. Go talk to him.
Ugh. I knew I needed to interrogate Mitch. But after our initial morning interview, Mitch had been called to a work emergency. Was that a coincidence or not? I vowed to speak with him before I left today.
I’ll do that, Grant. Thanks for trying to help. I’ll call you if I have any more questions.
Okay. See you later.
Grant walked toward his office, and I sighed. Grant had proven that he would do anything for the woman he loved. I wondered what it would be like to have a man love me the way Grant loved Mia. A man who only had eyes for me.
My partner, Craig, walked over to me after he finished talking to some other SEALs. Craig took a final glance at Paul as the coroner zipped the corpse into the body bag.
Craig showed me the last picture Paul had uploaded to his Instagram—a gorgeous family photo complete with a dog and a beach background. Guy killed himself. But why? I don’t get it. A decorated war hero, good-looking, gorgeous wife. Hell, even his dog is an agility champion.
I rolled my eyes at him. Craig was new to the SEAL beat. Still blind to these men’s faults. He probably still believed that they were all heroes.
And they were.
On the battlefield.
But I’d been around these parts before. I grew up on a base surrounded by SEALs. I was no longer fooled by their gleaming medals, airtight alibis, and empty promises. But I didn’t blame Craig—I’d once had stars in my eyes when it came to these men.
Until the Joaquín Cruz case.
I’d spent the last year of my life knee-deep in the secret world of SEALs. Behind their heroic rescues, behind the valor, behind the boastful autobiographies, there was an entire world of deception that I just could not crack.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t die trying.
Yeah? Don’t be so sure. These men are like sharks. I think he was murdered.
And like a true predator, Mitch Martinez circled around me before standing in my personal space. The sunlight accentuated his rock-hard body, the ocean breeze blowing through his dark, thick, wavy hair. "Murdered? You’re hilarious, Autumn. Where’d you learn your investigative skills? Same place you learned how to lap dance?"
Craig’s eyes widened as he checked out my body, no doubt imagining me dressed in nothing but pasties and a thong. Autumn? Lap dance?
Yeah, you missed it. I was undercover. Autumn was my stripper name.
I turned my attention toward Mitch and prayed that my traitorous pussy would not get wet.
Complete failure.
One look and heat rose in my body. Why was he so fucking hot?
What was wrong with me? I despised Mitch. He was a smug, cocky, arrogant son of a bitch.
Did I mention sexy?
So fucking sexy. I hated to admit it, but I could devour Mitch. Grant was a handsome man, looked like a Hollywood movie star, but he was a good guy. Mitch, on the other hand, was the ultimate bad boy. The type of man who could get you to drop your panties with a mere wink from his soulful yet pained brown eyes. The type of man you hated yourself for loving but couldn’t resist. The type of man for whom you would risk your career for a one-night stand.
In other words, my type.
Which meant I had to resist him at all costs.
Actually, Petty Officer Martinez, I went to Harvard. Majored in history with a concentration in government.
I studied his reaction and