Page 1 of Invaluable

Invaluable

I’ll be honest with you—I’m no saint.Sure, I turned down my 9.6-million-dollar football contract to join the Teams but I’ll never tell you the real reason why. The media has anointed me a selfless, patriotic American hero. But it isn’t that deep—I just want some action.

A one-night stand with a San Diego coed. I picked her out of a steamy nightclub—sexy blonde hair, full breasts, nice ass. I savored her warm touch, the scent of her perfume, and the sound of her laughter. After she rode me all night, I took in the ocean view from my condo, thankful for the blissful memories she gave me to get me through my long deployment.

I cross paths with Miss San Diego again halfway across the world in Afghanistan. Turns out she is a professional cheerleader on a patriotic tour sent to entertain myTeam.

I gaze into her beautiful blue eyes and give her my word that she’s safe with me. And my word is mybond.

Then she is kidnapped.

Whoever took her, took the wrong girl. Because I will tear this country apart to findher.

I’ll never win MVP, never get a championship ring, but some heroes don’t play games.

1

Kyle

Late Summer, San Diego

Summertime in San Diegobrought out all of the honeys, and the blonde doll swaying her body to the latest jam was no exception. There was something about the way she held herself that set her apart from the typical. women of San Diego. She danced on a platform while the fluorescent lights highlighted her glistening, sand-colored golden skin. I bit my lip. Man, she was fine. Her hips swirled around, and I couldn’t help but imagine them swiveling on top of me. She wore a tight, white tank top with a turquoise bikini top peeking through and a bubblegum-pink skirt that hit right at her juicy thighs—I wouldn’t be satisfied until I saw her clothes strewn all over my floor.

I glanced at the window to see a long line of people waiting outside, hopeful to get into Green Flash Bar & Grill, Pacific Beach’s hottest nightclub. This place was always hopping, especially on Taco Tuesday. It was walking distance to the beach, had a DJ spinning dance tracks, and cheap beer and great food. I scanned the place again. Always aware of my surroundings, I also noted the green neon lights of the exits in case I needed to make a hasty escape.

My wingman for the night, Victor Gonzales, nursed his beer. He normally wasn’t my first choice for a sidekick, but my best buddy Patrick Walsh had ditched me for his new chick, Annie, who we’d rescued. It was a fresh relationship, yet more intense than most. Poor girl had been kidnapped during spring break in the Caribbean and forced into sex slavery. But no small-time sex-ring scared us. We were motherfucking United States Navy SEALs. There was never a question—we had to save her. Now she was safe back home in San Diego, madly in love with her savior, Pat. It was like the plot of a Hollywood movie. Despite swearing to us he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, that he was only doing his job, Pat was acting like a lovesick puppy, too. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for the dude, but I missed my bro. And it was hard to understand how he could be satisfied with carrying on with a relationship with our lifestyle.

At least Vic had game—boy could dance. The women went crazy over his shiny black hair, deep dimples, and tattooed arms. And he understood my logic. So that was a plus. There were no real feelings involved so no one got hurt. Just over the surface was a safe place to be. Pat normally hung out at the bar all night, drinking himself into oblivion. At least now he appeared sated. A warm body did a hell of a lot more than reaching the bottom of a bottle, that was for sure. So I couldn’t knockhim.

Vic and I sat in silence after we had just devoured a plate of tacos. They were good, but not as delicious as the ones Vic’s mom made. Vic was on his third Corona. I took a swig of my own beer and stared intently back at blondie. Would she smile when she caught me undressing her with my eyes? Or would she roll hers and spin away from me? I would put money on the former. I wasn’t a conceited prick all the time, but it was safe to say I didn’t have any problems with the ladies. At six-foot-five, I towered over the other men at this club. Height had its advantages. The bars in this coastal party town were packed with frat boys, surfers, Marines, and sailors. But I stood out. I wasn’t just your average sailor—I was a Navy SEAL and a former professional linebacker, with broad shoulders and solid muscles that resembled a brick wall. I’d left behind money and fame to make a difference in the world, do something I believed in far more than the game. Something I’d die for. It was a personal decision. One I was proudof.

Blondie made strong eye contact with me and then ducked her head away. Just as I thought—she wanted me. I could never tell if these chicks wanted to date a brother, especially one who was as intimidating to look at as I was. Sure, everyone tried to pretend we were race blind ever since our country had elected a black president, but as one of only a handful of African-American Navy SEALs, I was reminded every day I stoodout.

I shouted to Vic, “I’m going in. You want her friend?” Blondie’s girlfriend had long, straight, dark hair that touched her ass. Petite, round booty and a nice rack. Just histype.

Vic nodded and we set our beers down and followed the bass-filled path up to the platform. The ground thumped with vibrations. No words. I started grooving behind Barbie. If the way she had looked at me was any indication, she wasn’t tight-laced. And I was open to any and all possibilities that got me close to her body. She shrugged her shoulders and gave me a coy smile. I was in. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her tight little ass grind up against my cock. Life was good. Inhibition was nowhere to beseen.

Blondie smelled salty and sweet, sandy even, like she’d just spent the day at the beach. And the sensual way she moved made me certain she was a dancer. I just hoped she wasn’t the type who earned her living on the pole. Then I’d know I didn’t inspire her, it was merely her occupation. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I whispered in her ear so she could hear me over the music.

“I’m Sara,” she shouted back. She nodded to her friend. “And this isMaya.”

“Nice to meet you, Sara. I’m Kyle. And this is my buddy, Vic. Can we buy you ladies some drinks?”

Her head bobbed with the music, not fully committing to a yes, but she followed me off the platform. Always in control, I took her hand, and we found a table near the bar, where I signaled to the cocktail waitress to take our order. She would be over in a second. We were regulars, and she knew we were huge tippers.

I glanced at her friend Maya, who clearly wanted to be somewhere else. She wasn’t even making eye contact with Vic or me. I studied her closely, taking note of her massive diamond earrings, tiny designer purse, and red-soled heels which were visible when she crossed her legs. The girl was either loaded or looking for a sugar daddy. I’d been wrong—she definitely wasn’t a good match forVic.

Sara, on the other hand, sported a small, gold necklace shaped like the Lone Star state, an iPhone case with slots for her ID and a few credit cards, and wore flip-flops adorned with rhinestones. I felt my pulse steady—it was refreshing to meet a girl who didn’t appear to be materialistic. Being into labels and appearing money-orientated was the quickest way to lose my interest.

The waitress came over and Vic and I ordered two beers, Sara wanted a Malibu and Coke, and her friend Maya just asked for a glass of water. Probably because she was waiting to be offered some thousand-dollar glass of champagne. Nope. Vic definitely wasn’t getting any tonight.

I turned my attention to Sara. Her blonde hair was cut in one of those crisp bobs, revealing her delicate neck. Her tits looked real, a rarity in Southern California. “So, Sara, what do you do for a living?”

“I go to SDSU, getting my degree in education. Right now, I work part-time at a preschool. How aboutyou?”

Hot for teacher. Sounded good to me. Refreshing compared to the typical answers from many of the local girls I’d met here. Most had dreams of becoming a model, Instagram star, or reality show wannabe. And with her looks, if she wanted that life, she could easily getit.

“I play football.”