LAST NIGHT COMPLETELY SUCKED. I couldn’t even score with a stripper. But I wasn’t about to blame myself. Call me a conceited prick, but I didn’t usually have a problem with the ladies. Ever. Maybe I should’ve told her what I did for a living. Like the magical phrase “open sesame” opened the cave’s mouth for Ali Baba, the words “I’m a motherfucking Navy SEAL” usually opened a women’s mouth to my cock.

But who knew? This chick wasn’t American—the SEAL line probably wouldn’t work with her anyway. Her ignorance about SEALs suited me fine. I didn’t want to deal with another Frog Hog, begging to start a relationship or bragging to her girlfriends she fucked a SEAL, only to cheat on me once she got what she wanted. I wanted one woman I could fuck whenever I desired, no talk about our futures or our pasts. Ksenya was perfect.

I’d sacrificed so much for Mia, hadn’t tried out for any East Coast Teams so I could stay close to her, spend weekends with her instead of bonding with my guys. What she didn’t know was that I’d planned on proposing to her, had even asked Joaquín for his blessing. Then she’d left me while I was clinging to life in a hospital bed, her engagement ring tucked in the bottom of my seabag.

But being injured was the best thing that ever happened to me. Otherwise, I’d have married that bitch, and she would’ve divorced me the second we had any problems, which was inevitable being married to a Team guy.

Last weekend we had the big welcome-home family day, though this homecoming had been bittersweet. No Joaquín, no Mia. For a while they had both been like family. All the Team guys loved Mia then. Despite my anger toward her, I wondered how she was doing without Joaquín. She was completely alone now—no parents, no brother. I was almost surprised she hadn’t tried to contact me again. I couldn’t blame her for giving up after the way I’d shut her down after Joaquín’s arrest.

Our last homecoming rager ended with a dead stripper and my best buddy getting accused of her murder. My Team needed this party for morale, since we were struggling to get back to normalcy. And rebuild our trust.

I believed Joaquín was innocent. I hoped that I would see something tonight, a trigger, and could figure out what the fuck went wrong that night. Even on deployment, none of the guys remembered anything. Kyle, Vic, Joe, and Pat had left earlier that evening; the rest of us had all been in rooms with strippers. No one remembered anyone else being at the party, but I had to admit we were all pretty fucked up. I’d actually vowed to stop frequenting strip clubs after that girl’s death, but I went back to the club to see if I could find any clues. Ksenya hadn’t been at the party that night, but maybe she’d heard some girls talk.

My truck pulled up at the strip club. Ksenya stood out front, wearing a thigh-skimming black-and-pink skirt, with a tight black tank top. I could see her nipple buds begging me to suck on them. Tonight. I had to have her tonight.

She leaned into my window and kissed me on the cheek. “Hi, Grant. These are my friends Brenna, Eden, and Kristi.”

Another bottle-blonde, a redhead with tacky lipstick, and a brunette with sparkly nails. My friends would love these women. But unfortunately none of them had been at the party that night. “Nice to meet you, ladies.” I nodded, and they piled into my truck. The scent of cheap perfume and self-tanner filled the air.

I headed to Pacific Beach. The girls chatted in the back, but I could only focus on Ksenya’s hand rubbing up my thigh. The closeness of an exquisite woman who had not once peppered me with questions was comforting. She hadn’t interrogated me about my job, mentioned my family, or asked me what I wanted from her. It was probably the language barrier.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. You look to me very handsome.”

I laughed. Her accent was cute. I’d never understood the obsession some men had with foreign women. I was a diehard patriot—I bled red, white, and blue. It had never crossed my mind to date someone who hadn’t been born in the United States. But maybe I had been too closed-minded. I allowed myself to entertain the thought of dating a woman who would be there for me even if I lost a leg, who would nurse me back to health. Someone who would never betray me. Like Mia had.

Fuck. It had been so long since I’d given so much thought to Mia. Yes, I had missed her dreadfully, but that pain had soon turned into anger. Why was I thinking so much about her now? I had been with dozens of women since we split, and none had ever caused me to scrutinize our relationship so much. Was it Ksenya? Was it because I felt connected to her? Her mannerisms? Why now?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

I’d enjoy the attention she was giving me while I was in town. Then I’d deploy again and I was sure she’d move on to her next client.

But this woman’s voice, the sound of her laughter, the way she looked at me, there was comfort in her presence. I couldn’t explain this unshakeable feeling that no matter how hard I tried, she was more than a one-night stand.