CHAPTER ONE

Major Sculler was the biggest boy in his classroom from the time he entered kindergarten to today, as a senior in high school. Always a full head taller than the other children, his height made him look as though he were held back a few grades instead of the intelligent, inquisitive child that he was. He wasn't slow. Not even close. He was just a big boy. A big, smart boy.

Except when it came to girls.

His father had explained the birds and the bees to him. He wasn't confused by that at all. It was the subtler, less tangible behaviors that Major seemed to struggle with. Is she flirting or not flirting? Is she interested or not interested? Did she use me or not use me? Major seemed to always find himself getting taken advantage of.

"Major, would you please carry my lacrosse gear?"

"Major, can you give me a ride home on your bicycle?"

"Major, do you mind helping me with the answers to the homework assignment?"

Yes, he was big and tough and twice the size of most of his classmates, but he was a sucker for a girl in need. When he was nearly expelled for having helped his classmate with her homework, Major refused to say anything, even though it was her who asked for the help.

"Hey, Major! Major, wait up," yelled Kim.

"What do you want?" he asked, frowning at the girl. One of the most popular girls in school, she was pretty, smart, captain of the volleyball team, and on the homecoming court.

"Don't be mad at me," she laughed. "I didn't make you help me with the homework."

"No, and you certainly didn't offer to tell them anything, did you?" he frowned. "You made it look like it was all my idea, and I was the guilty person here. You were the one who asked. I was just trying to be a good friend."

"Don't be such a bummer. It's all over with. So, we have a few extra sheets to do tonight. It's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to me, Kim. I've got football, then I need to help my dad at the shop, and now I have extra homework."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I mean, I thought maybe we could do the work together." He scoffed at her, shaking his head.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm not helping you with anything ever again!"

"God, you're such an ass, Major. It's not like you didn't get something out of this too." He stared at her, unsure of what she was saying. "I saw you looking down my blouse. I saw you checking me out every time we leaned over the book together."

"Wasn't like you didn't enjoy that," he mumbled. She started to speak, and he stopped her. "I saw you, too. I saw you unbutton the top button when you leaned over. You knew exactly what you were doing. Just stay away from me."

That first one was tough to get over, but when Major found himself seemingly making a habit of becoming the abused classmate, the abused friend, he wondered if there wasn't something wrong with him.

"Major? Major?" called his father. "Hand me the socket wrench."

"Sorry, Dad. Here you go."

"What's up? What has you so distracted?" he asked.

"Girls."

"Well, that'll do it," he laughed. He noticed his son was not laughing and set the tools down on the quilted padding. "What happened?"

"I helped someone with a homework assignment even though we were supposed to do it on our own. I mean, I thought I was helping her, but she copied my answers exactly, and we got caught. I have to do some extra homework tonight, and so does she. But she actually thought I would help her again. Do I have stupid written across my forehead?"

"No," he chuckled at his son. "You're just an exceptionally kind, sweet young man. Not all girls use boys, son. Some do. Hell, some men use women. Don't be one of those. I'd rather you be a good man, a good person, than refuse to help people."

"I just feel like I stick out no matter where I go or what I try to do. I mean, my size makes me stick out, but I feel like I'm sticking out for other reasons now, too. You know what I mean?"

"No, I'm not sure I do," said his father with a concerned expression.

"I mean, I'm at least a head taller than everyone. I get ‘big' jokes all the time. Every old lady neighbor asks me to open their jars and cans. Major, can you reach that book for me? Major, can you lift me up so I can see? A substitute teacher thought I was a teacher the other day, Dad. Me!"

Colonel Sculler laughed, shaking his head. His boy was big. Bigger than he was at that age, for sure. His own father had given him a name that would demand respect. He served ten years in the Army earning that respect, not using his name as a crutch. When he had his own son, he decided to do the same. But Major seemed to struggle with his identity and the cross between being a good guy, a guy that was good, and a guy that was used.

"Son, I can't change the way you look. Even if I could, I wouldn't. You look like me and your grandfather. Your eyes are all your mother's," he smiled. "You're a good man, Major. That's what you are now. A man. It's not an easy thing to do sometimes. You try to be strong and stoic, not show any emotion to anyone, but that's not realistic. At some point, you're going to have to come to grips with the idea of gifting nice to everyone."

"Gifting nice?" he frowned.

"It's like loaning money to a friend. If you decide to help out a friend financially, never think of it as a loan, Major. It's a gift. If you see it again, great. If not, so be it. Being nice to someone is the same thing. You aren't being nice expecting to get nice back." Major looked down at his feet. "Are you?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe. I mean, would it kill them to be nice to me once in a while?"

"No, it wouldn't. But that's a lesson in choosing your friends wisely, son. If you're not getting it back, then you know that your ‘gift' was wasted, and you won't make that mistake again."

Major said nothing for a long while. He continued to hand his father the tools to fix the classic car, his specialty. When he was done, they revved the engine, celebrating their victory.

"Let's finish up and grab some dinner. Just you and me," said Colonel. He nodded, following his father to the truck. He still hadn't said anything. Over huge plates of pasta and soda, his father finally looked up at him and spoke.

"Did you decide?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm going to join the Navy and try to become a SEAL."

His father raised a brow, wondering what had prompted this. His son had acceptance letters to six different colleges and universities, some with partial or full scholarships to play football. They'd talked endlessly about where he might go. Near, far, anywhere. Colonel didn't care. He just wanted his son to be happy.

"What made you choose that?" asked his father.

"I don't know. I mean, I thought it would be a challenge for me, help me to lose a few pounds." Colonel let out a huge belly laugh, shaking his head. "What's so funny?"

"Major, the SEALs will do a helluva lot more than take off a few pounds for you. It will be the hardest thing you ever do, and that's if, if, you make it through. It won't be easy."

"I know," he said, nodding at his father. "I've read all about it, and the recruiter I spoke to was pretty honest. Even he said I might not make it through. He said that sometimes it was tougher for the big guys. I just want to try, Dad."

"Then that's what you should do. Try. Give it all you have, and you won't be disappointed. Either way, I won't be disappointed. You've grown into a fine young man, Major. Everything about you makes me proud. You're smart, athletic, and God knows you're about the kindest young man I've ever met. I will always be in your corner. Always."

"Thanks, Dad. Really. Thanks."

Major repeated those words the day they pinned the trident to his chest. His father was there, smiling at him, wiping his tears of joy and pride. When he got his assignment to the teams, he thought it was a mistake. He was being assigned to the same team as the Jordan brothers. Two of the most prolific SEALs ever.

He'd been there when Christopher first caught sight of Ramey. He'd been there when she was nearly blown to pieces. And he'd been there when Christopher found her again, falling in love all over.

But Christopher and Patrick were there for him as well. They didn't turn out to be the friends that used him or only wanted him for his size. Hell, they were nearly the same size as he was.

They'd been beside him when he discovered that his wife had been driving from their home in Virginia to Florida to hook up with a pedophile, BDSM minister. They'd been there when he took the man's life, allowing him to ease some of his pain after the man killed his soon-to-be ex-wife.

And they were there when he'd met Ece. An encounter he wished he could take back.

She'd claimed she was in Turkey to find her aunt and uncle. That turned out to be a lie.

Then she'd claimed that she loved him and wanted to marry him. That was a lie as well.

Mama Irene planned the whole thing, and at the last minute, standing at the end of the aisle, she'd begged off, asking for a postponement until her family could be there. That's all she wanted was her family to be there. Another lie.

Major, now known to his teammates as Moose, thought nothing of it. But the others did. The others were concerned, although they held their opinions as a courtesy to their friend and teammate.

When she begged Moose to take her to London to visit her family for the holidays, he thought it would be his chance to prove how committed he was in spite of his own concerns about his wavering feelings toward her. Maybe this would prove to himself that she was the one, and maybe he could sway her family and perhaps come back a married man and finally start that family he always wanted. It was not to be.

She turned out to be a lie. All of her. A big fat lie.

They'd been in London for months. He'd been busying himself with sightseeing, running, working out, and reading while she'd been off shopping with her mother and meeting with her editors. He'd always been cautious around Ece, knowing that she was a reporter by trade. There was an underlying mistrust, yet he wanted so desperately to trust her.

When they'd met in Turkey, it had been all fireworks and sexual banter. Then it was crazy bedroom antics and great fucking. Now? Now, it was kiss-kiss, goodnight.

Moose was losing his mind. He thought about sending an e-mail to the guys to see if there was anything close he might be able to help with. Instead, when he opened her laptop, he got the surprise of his life.

"The men are the most extraordinary of fighters. Former Special Forces operatives they now are on a different kind of team. One the world needs to know about."

"Hey, babe! Major? Where are you, babe?" she called. He heard the footsteps and turned, waiting to see her face. "Major, wh-…"

"You fucking liar," he growled.

"Major, I wasn't going to do anything with it," she said with her hands in the air. "I swear, honey."

"Liar," he said again. "You don't write something like this without thinking you're going to do something with it." He turned the laptop to face him and deleted the file. She said nothing, just smirking at him.

"There is such a thing as the cloud, you know."

"I've got it, Moose."

He heard Pigsty's voice in his ear and knew it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Everything would be deleted from her files. Everything. He snapped the laptop in half, tossing it to the floor.

"Hey! That's brand new!"

"Sue me," he said, reaching for his things. "I've sat here with you for months now, waiting to go home. Waiting for a sign. This was one helluva a sign, Ece. You used us. You used me. You used my friends, all of us. For what? For a fucking story!"

"I need something for my editor, Moose. They'll leave names out of it."

"No, they won't. They'll dig until they can find what they want and tear us all apart. They'll destroy us, and if they don't, someone else will. I knew you would do this. From the very beginning, I knew you would do this. I don't know why I didn't listen to my instincts."

She huffed, folding her arms as she tossed the shopping bags onto the bed.

"I'll just rewrite it," she said, staring at him.

"You do, and I will kill everyone you love. Everyone. And if you think I won't, just try me. I'll start with those people downstairs and work my way through your family tree until there is nothing left of your DNA. If you attempt to print a story, any story, I will make sure that no one will ever read your shit again. I will spread rumors about you that even your parents will believe."

"Major…"

"Moose. My name is fucking Moose. Use it."

"Your name is Major, and that's what I'll call you," she said defiantly.

"You'll never call me anything ever again," he said, tossing the last of his items in the bag. "If you come near me or my friends and family, if you speak, type, write, telegraph, anything about us, I will hunt you down, you lying, cheating bitch."

Ece stared at the man, swallowing hard. She knew he would follow through on his promises. He was a man who protected fiercely, except if you were his enemy. And right now, she was his enemy.

"I won't try to print the story."

"We'll be watching you, Ece. We'll know when you get a new laptop and when you get back online. We'll know when you try to write under a new name or use a new e-mail address. We will know. If you make a phone call, we'll hear it. If you try to text someone, we'll know it. And when the time comes that I need to put a bullet in your forehead, I will not hesitate. I will gladly rid this earth of a fucking lying bitch reporter."

"You don't have to be so angry. We've had a good time together. We were great in bed," she smiled. He glared at her, making her body turn icy cold.

"No. We were average in bed. I admit I felt something in Turkey, but I think it was all the danger and the circumstances. I should have known that you were nothing to me when I didn't care that you wanted to come to London and work. I had no desire to convince you to stay. In fact, I was ready to tell you I was leaving when you got back today.

"Average. That's all you are, Ece. I seem destined to be with average women. My ex-wife and now you. I should have known to leave you in Turkey. I won't make that mistake again. Now, get out of my fucking way."

She stepped aside as he pushed past her, shoving her onto the bed. He'd never placed his hands on her in anger before. Never. And it scared the shit out of her. She could hear his heavy footsteps going down the steps.

"Major, are you going somewhere?" asked her mother.

"I need to get back to work, ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality, but I hope that I never see your daughter again. She's a lying bitch." With that, he walked out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

He'd hailed a cab and headed straight to the airport. There wasn't another flight back to the U.S. until the morning, so he'd have to wait. He could have called the team for a lift, but the reality was he knew he needed time to calm down and breathe.

He'd been screwed over. Again.

When Mama Irene called just to check on him, he knew that he'd made the right decision. He lay awake half the night, listening to planes take off and land at one of the world's busiest airports.

He ordered room service twice. Went downstairs and begged for a piece of cake or ice cream, and they gave it to him.

He took a long walk in the drizzle and cold of London, only to return still wide awake with a feeling of dread.

When he finally fell asleep, he thought he'd get a great night's rest, only to be awakened by the alarm to catch his flight at 0905. As he grabbed his bags, he looked at his phone, seeing several missed text messages and phone calls from Ece.

He didn't care. He was done being the nice guy. Done taking shit. He was ready to go home and begin a new life with his friends and teammates.

What he didn't know was that he would be walking into the biggest surprise of his life.