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BLURB
Mark Aleki Rogers left the Navy SEALs behind, but he found another use for his special skills. He and his fellow “Brothers-in-Arms” now run an intense boot camp that trains civilians to survive extreme situations. Mark’s size is intimidating, but the half-Samoan surfer is an eternal optimist. A suspicious string of suicides among SEALs, however, has Mark convinced it’s murder. He’s determined to get to the bottom of it…quietly. If he doesn’t, a murderer may go free.
Reporter Geneva Rios has come to the California coast looking for a story. The recent SEAL suicides are connected to the Brothers-in-Arms, and Geneva wants to know more. The interview she’s hoping for, though, comes at a price. The smoking-hot SEAL won’t talk unless she completes his training course. If she can survive Mark’s audition, she’ll have the angle she needs. Spending more time with Mark has its own perks, but for the exotic brunette, exposing the Navy SEALs is more than just a story…it’s personal.
As the heat between them reaches its boiling point, the pair puts more than their heads together. But with their own lives in danger, can they catch a killer before it’s too late?
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* * *
EXCERPT
Mark Aleki Rogers rode out the last crests of the giant wave all the way to the shallows, murmuring quietly, “Ola ma le alofa fua.”
Live and love freely.
Yep. That was his motto. Or, at least as freely as the events of the last few months would allow. Two funerals in six months. There was definitely something wrong.
Sure, there were guys who came back from combat so bruised and battered emotionally that they couldn’t cope and killed themselves, but the two guys who had worked for him as instructors at his security firm, Brothers In Arms, hadn’t fit that bill. Not at all.
In fact, Mark couldn’t shake the strong suspicion that they weren’t suicides at all.
Too many things didn’t add up.
He jumped off his customized Proctor Mendia Surfboard, a gift to himself last year and one he had yet to get enough use of, and waded to the shore. Looking at his watch, he sighed.
“Leila is waiting,” he reminded himself, as he looked back toward the ocean.
He’d love to stay out here the rest of the afternoon and catch more waves, for the water was the only place, he could live completely in the moment these days but his sister, Leila, was expecting him. She’d said she wanted help unloading a new shipment of ice cream for her seaside diner, but Mark knew from long experience that whenever Leila asked for his assistance, it was never that simple.
“I hope this new ice cream is good, sis. What am I saying, all ice cream is good.” He chuckled at his own comment knowing that he wouldn’t be heading back out to the surf anytime soon not when family needed him.
In the Samoan culture, you did anything for family. Family came first. Always. Aiga was the Samoan word for family and one his mother had emblazoned on his and his sister’s mind from an earlier age. Now, it was part of his DNA, just another facet of who he was, which was why he didn’t mind helping out in the restaurant.
His mom always blamed his inquisitive nature and high moral standards on his island heritage as well, but Mark knew better. Those skills had come directly from his time as a Navy SEAL. Honor, integrity, fortitude. If Hell Week didn’t drill those into a guy, nothing would.
That was another reason he was suspicious about those deaths.
Taking one’s own life was a sign of hopelessness.
And rule number one for SEALs—there was always hope.
He planned to do some nosing around into the cases later to put his own mind at ease. He’d have to do it on the down low though. No sense drawing law enforcement’s attention at this point. Not until he’d gathered the information, he needed.
After one last, longing look back at the excellent surf rolling in off the California coast, Mark tucked his board beneath his arm and started to jog the half mile to his sister’s place. Sure, he was still dripping wet and covered in salt and sand, Leila would most likely give him hell for it too, but hey. After serving his country faithfully as a SEAL officer for eight years and now as a busy small business owner himself, she’d have to take what she got. The afternoon sun beat down on his shaved head and made the slight shadow of dark stubble on his scalp itch. Yeah, a shower would’ve been good, but duty called.
Wearing a pair of neon blue men’s surf shorts and nothing else, he ran down the beach. Mark couldn’t help admiring the stunning beauty of the landscape. Sheer dark cliffs lined the sunbaked sand and jagged rocks jutted from the ocean waters. A colony of sea lions basked on a shoal, honking, grunting and generally causing a ruckus. The air smelled of salt, decaying seaweed and fish and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself in Samoa instead of California. Not that he’d ever visited his mother’s homeland, but it was certainly on his bucket list someday.
Mark rounded another cliff, and then slowed his pace as two familiar figures approached from the other direction. What the hell? This was supposed to be his day off from the office.
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