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  Snake’s Salvation

  Copyright © 2015 Aliyah Burke

  Cover illustration copyright © Covers by K

  Editor: Jessica Bimberg

  ISBN: 9781311299116

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher or author. The unauthorized replication or allocation of any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by up to five years in federal prison, a fine of $250,000 per reported instance, and seizure of computers.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by: Sensual Romance Publishing

  Snake’s Salvation

  By

  Aliyah Burke

  To the ladies of the Red Hot group, thanks so much for allowing me to jump back in and join you! To my readers, I can’t express how much your support means to me. To DH, I love you. And as always, to the men and women who have served their country, thank you so much for your sacrifice. I won’t meet all of you but I will never forget you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Additional Books by Aliyah Burke

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The cold desert air was the harbinger of death. It walked in with the icy edge of an assassin. Silent one moment—hell on Earth the next. Gunfire shattered the silence, along with the unmistakable sound of an RPG hitting its target.

  Jason swore as he rolled from his makeshift bed, M16 in hand. The flames that jumped to him were thankfully extinguished from the dirt bath as he relocated. Fucking sand finally had a use. Crouched, he returned fire as he made sense of the chaos. Ward had been on watch. What the fuck happened to him? How did they get the drop on them?

  “Snake!” A hand tapped his shoulder. “Move.”

  “The fuck, man?” He moved back, in perfect tandem with his teammate and best friend, Samuel “Rocks” Patron as they fought free of the clusterfuck he’d woken to. “The others?”

  “No clue.”

  Jason cycled his weapon as he’d been trained to do, watching as the insurgents fell. It didn’t matter there was an endless wave of men who wanted him dead.

  It was life. He was a Navy SEAL, which meant he sure as shitting wasn’t going to roll over and let them kill him. In his periphery, he saw Monsoon, the medic, dragging the boneless, lanky form of Whisper as he fired in short staccato bursts.

  “Goddamn motherfucking clusterfuck.”

  “Yes, we need exfil, we’re taking heavy fire. Can’t you hear it? Possible casualties.” Rocks’ tone, sharp yet controlled, reached him as he slammed a full magazine into his Glock and began firing, again. “Your eight o’clock,” Rocks yelled. “We can hold’em back until evac arrives.”

  “Go,” Jason hollered.

  “No way. I’ve got more ammo. I’ll cover.”

  “Rocks,” he protested.

  “That’s an order, Snake.”

  It wasn’t often Rocks pulled rank on him, and he listened, covering Monsoon who rose with Whisper over his shoulder. A soft grunt had him turning back to Rocks in time to see him drop to one knee. Instinctively, he hesitated. Rocks shook his head and kept firing.

  Minutes dragged on as they continued to fight. Finally, the familiar whoomp whoomp of their incoming evac ride. In his ear bud, he heard two more teammates check in. Still nothing from Ward.

  Not soon enough came the air support, lighting up the night as they leveled the enemy. “Rocks,” he called as their ride landed. “Move it.”

  Nothing.

  Turning to where he’d last seen Rocks, he swore as his world went to slow motion as he watched a man in rags put a bullet into the head of his best friend. Rocks went down in a heap.

  “No!” Jason ran for him, spraying bullets to cut down the ones approaching. He blinked as one took on the familiar shape of Ward. The man was helping the enemy. He’d sold their country out. Sold them out.

  Ward sneered at him and lifted his rifle. Jason scowled and shot him directly between the eyes.

  He grabbed his friend and hefted him up over his shoulder.

  “Go, got you covered,” Monsoon’s words rang in his ear.

  Turning, he hauled ass to the chopper. Numb, he stared at his dead friend as their ride took them away from the death and destruction. Three dead. Whisper and Rocks. And the traitor, Ward. His body lay alone to the side, no longer in their circle. Not one of them any longer.

  When they landed, a tall man strode up to them as they disembarked, his uniform so sharply pressed it could have sliced him open. “Abject failure,” he barked. “Three dead. Including my son.”

  Ward’s father was a very unhappy man. Jason wasn’t happy himself.

  “How’d it happen?” He reached in to touch his son’s body.

  “I killed him.” Jason ignored the looks from everyone else. With Rocks dead, he was in command.

  “You what?” Rage poured from the man.

  “He betrayed us; I killed him.” There was no sympathy in Jason’s heart, and pivoting on his heels, he left, following the two men who were carrying the dead body of his best friend.

  “I’m not done with you,” Ward’s father cried out.

  “Tough shit.”

  “Damn it, La Rue, I’m your superior officer. I’m not done talking to you, yet.”

  “Like I give a damn,” he muttered without slowing down.

  He entered a building, ignoring the threats of how he would never be a SEAL, again. None of it mattered, right now. He had friends to honor. Friends to remember. Friends to say his farewells to.

  His eyes snapped open, and Jason lay in the bed as his heart thundered within the confines of his chest. Again, the same dream of that night when his life had gone to shit. He wiped the sweat off his brow and pushed up from his prone position.

  There would be no more sleep tonight. He was well aware of that. Swinging off the bed, he dressed and walked to his beat up pickup. Moments later, he was driving down the road to the one place in the small town that remained open this time of night.

  He strode in and took his seat in the back of Et Tu Fey. Usual seat, usual looks from those in there and the only waitress who didn’t have a problem serving him. She didn’t shy from him, didn’t speak ill of him behind his back.

  “Evening, Jason,” she said quietly, pouring him a cup of black coffee as she placed down a menu.

  “Ma’am.”

  One of her many braids trailed over her shoulder as she poured, and he had the insane urge to touch it, slide it through his fingers to see if it was as smooth as it appeared. It blocked part of her name tag, which read “Etta”.

  Her response was a slight smile. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, just in case you want to try something different.”

  He watched her walk away. Her natural stride, easy and f
eminine. Seductive without any intent of being such.

  The chime over the door alerted him to the two men he’d seen stepping from their jacked up truck earlier. They swaggered in, hats low on their heads and cowboy boots scuffing the floor as they walked. The Scandrick Brothers, Billy and Danny.

  “Hey, darling,” they called to the other waitress and smacked her on the ass as she sashayed by them.

  She blushed and waved at them before walking to the counter. Jason diverted his attention back to Etta, who talked easily with another customer. He fixed his coffee and drank while waiting for her to return. Another couple walked in and claimed a booth. Terry called out a greeting, and Etta grabbed the coffee pot heading to their booth.

  Pot in hand, she swung by Jason’s table and paused. “Something new tonight?”

  He tipped his head back to look at her. Her brown eyes sparkled.

  “I’ll take that as a no. Your usual, then. I’ll be back with it.”

  And she was gone again with a second smile and a scent that had a hint of moonlight and cherries. He’d finished his coffee by the time she walked over with his plate of food. She set it before him and refilled the white porcelain mug.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You change your mind, just holler.” Her gaze was kind then she walked away.

  He dug into his food, happy for the breakfast, and had to force himself to eat at a more moderate pace. His mind eventually slowed down as the dream slunk back to the dark recesses and hid.

  Etta topped off his drink twice more before he was ready to leave. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the bills to cover his meal and dropped them on the table. On his feet, he made his way to the door.

  “Well, well, if it ain’t Jason La Rue, the man who got kicked out of the Army.”

  He sliced his gaze to Billy, who spoke with a sneer. No intention of correcting the asshole that he’d never served in the Army. Danny had his leg in the way of Jason’s exit.

  “Heard you shot one of your own. You working with the enemy?” Danny drawled.

  Anger unfurled in his gut, and he clenched a fist.

  “Y’all mind your manners,” Etta snapped. “You don’t need to be speaking about things you don’t necessarily know anything about.”

  They both looked at her, and she scowled right back at them. “Don’t stick up for that waste,” Billy said. His sneer deepened. “Then again, with you being who you are, he probably suits you fine.”

  “You want to eat here again, you speak with respect about someone who served.” She slammed the plates of food down before each of them.

  “Shut up and serve the food, you stupid nig—” Danny bit off.

  Jason reacted without thinking, reaching around to grab the man by the back of the neck. “Mind your tongue,” he growled low. “Especially when you speak to a lady.”

  Etta touched his arm, and he yanked his gaze to her. She shook her head and squeezed him lightly. Sparks shot along his skin, and his cock stirred to life. “He’s not worth it.” She dampened her lips. “Let him go.”

  He clenched his hand before releasing the man’s dirty neck. Turning his head, Jason looked at her once more then walked out.

  Moments later, a door slammed behind him, and he looked back to see Etta hastening down after him. “Wait,” she said. “Please, wait.”

  He paused at the door of his truck, gripping the frame. Understanding he needed to get away and calm down, he hoped he had the control to rein in his anger. “Yes, ma’am?”

  She came up to him until her shoes almost touched his. “You just stood up for me in there, don’t you think you can call me Etta, now? Three months of seeing you nightly and all you call me is ma’am.”

  He furrowed his brow.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I came out here to thank you for what you did in there.” Her smile was nervous.

  “You should be careful of those Scandrick brothers. They’re not safe nor particularly nice especially to…to—”

  “Someone like me?” Her grin turned ironic. “I know how they view me. I don’t care.”

  A ray of sunshine cutting through the dark of night, that’s what she reminded him of. “You still stood up for me.”

  “You are a veteran; you deserve more respect than they were giving.”

  “And what they were saying?” He couldn’t explain why he wanted to know how she felt about it. Did she believe them? Would she soon look at him the way so many others did?

  Etta canted her head to the side. “Like I said, I’ve known you for three months, and you’ve been nothing but kind and respectful to me. That—” she touched his arm— “speaks more to me than any ramblings some drunk racist spouts when I know, if his brother hadn’t been with him, he wouldn’t have the balls to say anything.”

  “So, you’re not scared of me?”

  “Should I be?”

  Yes. He spun her so she was between him and the bed of his truck. Arms braced on either side of her, he leaned in closer. “If you were smart, you would be.”

  She didn’t pull away, in fact, she leaned closer. “Call me stupid, then.” And she kissed him.

  Loretta knew she’d made a mistake. Kissing this man. Sure, she’d heard the rumors about him and what he’d done to be kicked out of the Navy SEALs, but that wasn’t why she recognized her mistake. No, it was because she had been foolish enough to kiss him.

  This incredible specimen of a man. She was an artist and had immediately taken note of his stats. Five inches over six feet, black hair, and dark brown eyes, muscular. As in his shirts strained at the sleeves to contain his biceps and hung loose around his lower abs because his shoulders were so wide. Not an ounce of spare flesh on him, and she’d wanted to touch him from the first time she’d looked up to see him walk in the diner.

  Marie, the other waitress who worked overnight with her, was scared to serve him and preferred to not do it, so Etta had gone to do so. Each day, he was the one she looked forward to seeing at night. His quiet strength drew her to him. And now… Now, she was kissing him.

  Correction. Was being kissed by him. His tongue surged through her mouth, touching everywhere he could. He tasted of coffee, masculinity, and something else, a taste she figured was just him.

  She gripped his arms and whimpered at the hard flesh she encountered there. More. Her blood sang for it, craved it, and longed for it.

  He broke the kiss and drew back, eyes tumultuous in the low lighting from the diner. She dragged her tongue along her lips, savoring the last little bit she could have of his taste. Giving in to the wish of touching his hair, she pushed back some and caressed his skin.

  “Good night, Jason.” Ducking beneath his arm, she tugged on her apron and walked back to the door where she slipped inside without once looking back.

  Her blood hummed the rest of the night, and when the morning shift came in, she was ready to crawl into her bed and relive his kiss in her dreams. “Night, all,” she said as she headed out the door with a wave.

  She paused by her older convertible and climbed in. Unbidden, her gaze drifted over to where Jason had parked his truck before she started the engine and headed to her rental. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

  Inside, she undid her apron and went to work on removing her clothing as she walked through to the washing machine in the back. She had to get some laundry done or she’d be waiting tables in the buff. Leaving the dirty clothes in a pile, she took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of blue shorts and an ice purple camisole. Then, she put in her laundry.

  Gazing about her place, she drew the curtains to shut out the daylight as she padded back to her lone bedroom and crawled in the double bed. She burrowed beneath the bedding and closed her eyes. The machine shutting off would wake her, but for the next hour, she could at least get in a nap.

  Per usual, she woke, put the clothing in the dryer, and stumbled back to bed. This time, she fell face first and groaned when the doo
rbell chimed.

  “Lord above,” she muttered, pushing back to her feet.

  Fighting a yawn, she swung open the door and stumbled back. Jason stood there in tight jeans, which would easily serve her dreams for a few more nights, and a green shirt, which truthfully should have been outlawed with how it hugged him.

  “Mr. La Rue,” she said, stepping closer to the entry. “What can I do for you?”

  His brown eyes roamed over her possessively. “I came to check on you.”

  His deep voice was raspy, and it set off tingles in her pussy. It wasn’t fair. He was a walking ad for sex and sexual thoughts. A temptation to allow darkest desires to flow free.

  “For what?”

  “Because of the Scandrick boys.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her tone. That’s why he’d come? Not because the kiss had moved him like it had her? Waving a hand, she shook her head. “They’re bluster, I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.”

  His eyes narrowed a bit. “They aren’t bluster. Stay away from them. They’re dangerous.”

  “I don’t purposefully seek them out. I don’t purposefully seek anyone out, Jason, but if they come into the diner, I can’t ignore them.”

  “Why not? Marie ignores me.”

  “That’s true, but that is her. Not me. That wasn’t how I was raised.”

  His expression bespoke his desire to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “It wasn’t a bother.” What would he think of me if I were to press up against him and kiss him once more? Only through sheer will did she manage to keep her feet in place.

  “Ma’am.” He spun on his heels and strode back to the dented truck she looked forward to seeing each night.

  She closed the door and rested her head against it. I’m such an idiot. What kind of fool was I to kiss him last night? Oh, God. I just need to go back to bed and get some sleep.

  Etta cleaned her kitchen while waiting for the dryer to stop. Then, she folded the items and crawled into bed. Closing her eyes, she moaned when her hands drifted over her breasts. Her nipples were taut and hypersensitive. Heat pooled between her legs, and she whimpered as she shifted along the sheets, trying desperately to cool herself down without finding release.