CHAPTER ONE

Conor Dooley Quinn stood between his father, Dominic, and grandfather, Titus. Strong, heroic names. For strong, heroic men. Titus had served in the Marine Corps, many of those years as a Special Forces operative, MARSOC. Dominic followed suit. Serving in the Corps and eventually MARSOC. They always knew Conor would as well or at least they thought he would. But like all young men, Conor had his own ideas.

For whatever reason, the Quinn men had the genetics for exceptional height. All three of the men were six-feet-six. Lean, muscular, and hovering around two hundred and forty pounds. The three men looked as if they could be brothers instead of father, son, and grandson. Conor was lucky enough to also have a grandmother who was nearly six feet tall and his uncle who was a beast in his own right. Rory Baine was a legend at six-feet-five and two hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle and badass. Hopefully, he would carry on the legend status, maybe even with a next generation of legends.

Conor was about to receive his high school diploma. Honors graduate, three sport athlete having achieved all-state in all three sports, he was a sought-after young man. But Conor knew his true calling.

Unlike his father and grandfather, both MARSOC, Conor wanted to become a Navy SEAL. One of the sports he'd excelled at was swimming. His long, lean body and unbelievable wingspan allowed him to glide through the water like a torpedo. Coaches, colleges, and even the Olympic coaches had been watching him for years.

"Mom, just take the picture, please," smirked Conor, ready to celebrate with his best friends. His mother was a tiny little woman, once a Hollywood superstar actress. She was beautiful and funny, adventurous and loving. He'd grown up with the perfect family.

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Can you blame me for wanting pictures of all my handsome boys?" She snapped several more photos, making sure that she caught all the ribbons and swag hanging around Conor's neck.

"Heads up," smirked Titus. "Here comes that Olympic coach again."

"God, do these guys never take a hint," frowned Conor.

"Son, you're exceptional," said Dom. "Most people would consider swimming for their country to be an honor."

"I know, Dad, but I'd have to go to the Olympic training center now, train for two years, and there's no guarantee I'd make it once there. My face would be everywhere if I did, and how could I possibly become a SEAL after that?"

"We understand," said Titus. "It's your decision, and whatever you decide, we'll back you. I'm proud of you no matter what, Conor."

"Mr. Quinn? Mr. Quinn?" called the little man.

"Coach Specter, it's nice to see you again, sir." He didn't mean it. In fact, he found it rude and an imposition that he was approaching him now.

"Well, if that's true, you'll take me up on my offer to come and train with the Olympic team in Colorado Springs."

"Sir, as I said before, I appreciate your offer, but I want to do something else. Something far more important to me."

"Conor, I don't think you understand. Yevgeny Krechenski is the number one swimmer in the world. He's won worlds for the 100m, 200m, 400m, and 400m relays. His times are exceptional, but yours blow them out of the water!"

"I'm aware of Yevgeny's abilities, sir. As I said before. I don't want to swim in the Olympics or for any university. I'm fortunate that I was blessed with good skills and that I've been blessed with being allowed to take advantage of other opportunities. I'm sorry."

"Mr. Quinn, please talk some sense into your son," he pleaded with Dom.

"Coach, I believe my son is speaking well for himself, and I'm not the kind of father that would push my son to do something he doesn't want to do. He's got his mind set, and I'm with him. One hundred percent."

"Conor, do you understand that you're giving up the opportunity to swim for your country? With that face and physique, possibly millions in endorsements, commercials, hell, probably even movies!" said the man. Conor laughed at him, shaking his head as his father and grandfather smirked.

"No offense, Coach, but I'm going to be doing something a lot more important for my country. Thank you for coming, and I'm sorry if I wasted your time. Have a nice day." Conor walked off to speak with his fellow graduates and friends, leaving his parents and grandparents to fend off the coach.

"He'll regret this one day," frowned the man.

"He'll regret nothing. That's not how my son is built. He doesn't regret his decisions because he makes sound, well-thought-out decisions. As he said, we appreciate you coming here, but now it's time for us to celebrate." Dom gripped the man's shoulder, turning him, not so gently, toward the parking lot.

Both men watched as the coach left, shaking his head in disbelief.

"He meant well," said Olivia.

"I know he did, babe, but swimming isn't Conor's dream. I mean, it is, but not for his country. Actually, I take that back," he laughed.

"I get it," she said, nuzzling her husband's neck. "Why don't we excuse ourselves to get the food ready back at the house."

"But Mama Irene was doing that?" frowned Titus.

"Yes. I know," she smiled, grabbing her husband's hand and giving a gentle tug. Titus smirked at his wife, turning to speak to his son.

"Hey, we're headed back to Belle Fleur. See y'all there." Dom could only nod, then looked at his wife, frowning.

"I thought Mama Irene was planning the party?"

"Dom, sometimes you're the most brilliant man on the planet. Other times, well, you just don't get it."

"What did I miss?" he frowned. Leightyn could only laugh, kissing her husband.

"Are you ready, Conor?" asked Christopher Jordan.

"Ready, brother," smiled Conor. "I've been waiting for this day my entire life. I spoke to Justin Porter the other day."

"No, shit?" smirked Christopher.

"Yeah. All that training he did with our team paid off for him. He's on SEAL team five, headed out for a while, but he sounded great."

"That's all we want, right? I just want to serve with my brother and all my friends if I can."

"Not sure they'll let all of us serve together," smirked Conor. "But it doesn't matter. We all know that we're out there, and we're available to help."

"What are you going to do about Meadow?" smiled Christopher.

"She's too serious," said Conor. "I mean, she's beautiful, and she's smart, all great qualities, but damn. That girl wants to be married and have babies popping out within the year. I don't want that."

"Well, it looks like she got your message," said Christopher with a head nod toward the girl. She was locked arm-in-arm with one of their former classmates who had graduated the year before. He was a good guy, now working for his father's business.

"I'm glad," said Conor. "I wouldn't be able to give her what she wants. But that seems odd."

"What?"

"Him. If she marries him, her name will be Meadow Fields."

Christopher laughed as they walked toward their own truck, ready to head home for the celebration. As they parked their truck and stepped out, their fathers walked towards them with grim expressions.

"Dad? What's wrong?" asked Conor. "Uncle Wes?"

"Boys, we have some bad news," said Dom.

"What kind of bad news?" asked Conor.

"Justin Porter and half of SEAL team five were killed during their mission late last night. The others are severely wounded, but they'll live."

"No," said Conor, shaking his head. "That can't be right. He was doing great. I just spoke to him."

"Son, you know that things can change on a dime, especially when you're deployed. His team was on a mission in North Korea, and everything went south."

"Has someone notified his parents," he asked. Dom nodded, gripping his son's neck and pulling him in for a hug as Wes did the same with Christopher.

"What you boys are headed out to do isn't a game. It's life or death. Literally. We helped to prepare Justin, but in the end, it wasn't enough. You have to rely on your teammates, your brothers. And you never know if that's enough."

"It has to be," said Conor. "I have to have a team I can trust."

"You will," said Dom, kissing his son's forehead. "Don't say anything to your mothers. They might block the road tomorrow when you leave." The men gave a sad smile, telling the boys to change for the party. Conor and Christopher walked in silence as Patrick caught up with them.

"Judging from your faces, you know," he said.

"We know," they said in unison.

"Stay with Christopher," said Conor, looking at Patrick. "Don't leave him. Not ever. Stay with him and your team."

"We will, Conor. Maybe we can get you assigned to our team as well." Conor shook his head.

"That's too many Belle Fleur boys on one team," he smirked. "I'll be okay. I'll stay in touch with all of you. Hell, we might be going through BUDs at the same time."

The boys all looked at one another, then off toward the grove where the music was already kicking off.

"I'll miss all this," said Conor quietly.

"Me, too," nodded Patrick.

"You guys are depressing me," grinned Christopher. "Let's get changed and join the party."

The boys did join the party, but nothing felt festive any longer. Their friend was dead, and they were possibly headed toward the same fate. It was an incredibly sobering thought for three eighteen-year-old boys. But not sobering enough to change their minds. They were going to be SEALs. They were going to serve their country. And then they were going to come home and serve their families.

As it turned out, all three were in BUDs together, and all three finished in the top five of their class. No surprise to their instructors. They would be sent to the worst hellholes in the world. The countries with so much conflict, so much terrorist activity, so much corruption, it was easy to lose who you were and where you came from.

Keeping your head on straight, your morals intact was a full-time job, and your teammates often didn't make that easy. Neither did the temptations when you were home. Off-base activity was an all-time high for many of the men, and if they wanted trouble, fun, a night of free love, it was available for them. But Conor knew the implications of those actions and always went home alone. Always.

When Conor heard that Christopher and Patrick retired from the teams, he thought maybe it was his time as well. But something kept pulling him back. Something was holding him there.

Something had a plan for him.