one
Ashton
You’re mine.
Those two little words are burned into my memory as I scan the crowd of eager fans, waiting their turn in line to get my full attention while I sign their copies of my best-selling MC romance novel. The book started out as a distraction from my boring life as Vanessa Grambling's personal assistant. It was my way of escaping the harsh reality of life as a corporate assistant.
The long hours did nothing for my social life, so I made one up, creating a world where a mysterious, sexy biker rescued the female lead from her evil boss and opened a new path in life. One where she is in charge of her own destiny, not held back by a ruthless boss who took credit for all her hard work.
My debut novel hit number one on all the book charts and went viral—all the BookTok girls wanted to find their own Renegade Reynolds, who would burn the world down for them, just like the Renegade Reynolds from my book. If only he truly existed, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
I’ve been looking over my shoulder for the last three weeks, waiting for the next threatening letter. The first one was left under the windshield wiper of my car. At first, I thought it was a parking ticket, but on closer examination, it was too big to be a ticket. When I opened the envelope and saw those two words scribbled on a sheet of paper, my heart dropped. I haven’t slept more than four hours at a time since then.
These public events I used to enjoy now cause me stress and anxiety. I love my fans and want to continue with the mini book tour, but this fear is paralyzing—constantly worrying aboutwhen the next threat will happen. In this case, it occurred three weeks and two days after the first.
I clench the envelope tighter in my hand—not needing to open it to know it was sent from my stalker. The handwriting on the envelope with my name scratched across the front is an exact replica of the first note.
My publisher and her staff set up my table in the bookstore while I greeted my fans at the entrance, took pictures with them, and then they lined up for me to sign their books. It's the usual routine, and I don’t want to give it up. My fans mean everything to me—I wouldn’t be here without them. It’s only right that I keep greeting them with a smile and a photo op.
My eyes scan the crowd of lively faces, all patiently waiting their turn for me to sign their book or whatever item they brought. It’s hard to believe one of them could be my stalker.
“Are you ready for Nina to lead your fans over to the table?” My publisher, Dani, smiles, giving me the silent reassurance I need to get through the signing.
“I found this under a stack of books on the table.” My hand trembles as I hand her the envelope. There’s no point in worrying about too many people touching the envelope and destroying evidence—my stalker is smarter than that—we learned from the last letter.
Dani takes the envelope from my hand and stuffs it into her purse. “I’ll handle this. You focus on your fans. Carrie and I have a surprise for you.”
My editor, Carrie, is my best friend. When I told her about the first letter, she tried to talk me into hiring a bodyguard, but I told her I didn’t want to scare off my fans.
Dani wraps her arms around me in a side hug, “Trust me.” She drops her hands, takes a step back, and nods at Nina.
Nina leads the crowd in a single file line to my table. With a tight smile, I greet my fans, but before I can start signing their books, Dani makes an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise for you. As promised, the special edition of the Biker’s Prize is here.” A cheer erupts throughout the bookstore. “And you’re the first to see the cover reveal and purchase a copy.” The cheering grows louder, but Dani isn’t finished. “I’d like to introduce you to Renegade Reynolds.” With a dramatic wave of her hands, Dani’s assistants roll carts filled with boxes of books toward the table while Dani pulls the sheet off the poster on the easel next to me, revealing the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His intense gaze leaping off the canvas, making me squeeze my thighs together. It’s him—it’s the Renegade Reynolds I pictured when I wrote the novel.
His shaggy, dark hair, desperately in need of a trim and curling slightly at the ends, seems to beg me to run my fingers through it. Since the picture is in black and white, I have no idea what color his eyes are, but it doesn’t matter—everything else is perfect, from his six-pack abs to the leather jacket he’s wearing and that smoldering gaze that wasn’t on the original cover. The original cover featured a bare-chested man with only his lips visible down to his waist. And those black leather pants he’s wearing should be illegal, at how well they are sculpted to his body.
Where did Dani find this cover model?
“But that’s not all.” Carrie makes an unexpected appearance. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Renegade Reynolds.” On cue, the front door of the bookstore opens, revealing the man from the cover of the book, live and in person. He’s taller than I imagined him to be—at least six-six.
His eyes scan the crowd, taking everything in, giving me a moment to collect myself. Dani and Carrie never mentioned having a cover model attend the book signing. His eyes finally settle on me, and my breath catches in my throat; his intense gaze leaves me frozen. His long strides close the gap between us until he’s standing right beside me. “Breathe, little one.” He says, quoting my book. And like the cool, sophisticated writer I am, I promptly faint into his arms.
two
Riker
The photo shoot lastweek was bad enough, but this group text is going to be worse. I pull my phone out of my pocket as I wait for the signal to walk into the bookstore in my undercover role as a cover model for a romance book.
I’ve been working for the Salt & Steel Security Group in Tidehaven, South Carolina, since I retired from the Navy SEALs a few years ago. Most of my jobs are the usual bodyguard assignments. Nothing out of the ordinary until this assignment.
Normally, as a bodyguard, I blend into the shadows, staying out of sight unless absolutely necessary. But not this assignment. This one, I’m front and center. Hell, my picture will be plastered all over God’s green earth. I need to tell my SEAL brothers about it before they find out on their own.
The phone feels heavy in my hand as I weigh my options. I could wait until they see me on the cover of that romance novel or plastered all over the internet, as my boss Cal told me what might happen if I accepted this assignment. Or I could do the honorable thing and text them in our secure group chat.
Trace, Jack, Rafe, Hollander, Jude, Maddox, and I were grouped together during military training. Our ability to work smoothly as a team led to our being assigned to the same SEAL team—SEAL Team Titan X. Rafe was our leader, and the rest of us specialized in our respective areas, forming a group of misfits with no one in our lives who cared whether we lived or died. But everything has changed since Rafe, Trace, and Jack all found the women of their dreams.
Back in our SEAL days, we were assigned the most dangerous missions, which earned us the unofficial nickname “Suicide Squad.” It’s a miracle we all made it through our time in the military. The scars are still present, both physically and emotionally, as each of us copes with them in our own way.
