SEAL for Her Protection

By: Paige Tyler

(SEALs of Coronado Book 1)




Dedication



With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband, without whose help and support I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant any girl could ask for!



Thank you.





BACK BLURB



He saved her once. Can he save her again, this time from danger he doesn’t see coming?



When investigative journalist Hayley Garner is kidnapped by terrorists, she’s sure they’re going to kill her. But in sweeps handsome Navy SEAL Chasen Ward to rescue her. After getting her to safety, he disappears into the night before she can even thank him.



Weeks later, while covering a story on the local navy base, Hayley runs into Chasen again. Even though she didn't see his face that night he rescued her, she can’t forget his beautiful blue eyes.



The attraction is immediate and intense, and Hayley finds herself falling into a fiery romance with the hunky hero out of her dreams. Guys like this aren’t supposed to really exist, but Chasen does, and damn is he hot.



But ever since she got back home, Hayley has had the feeling someone's been watching her. Is it post-traumatic stress or does she have a reason to be afraid? Good thing she has a Navy SEAL to protect her.





Prologue



Nigeria, Africa



FROM WHERE SHE sat on the floor, Hayley Garner looked around the dank, smelly pigsty of the makeshift prison cell, seeing nothing she hadn’t seen the last three days. It was dark outside now, but the single bare lightbulb hanging from one of the overhead beams allowed her to make out the rough concrete block walls and the two pieces of corrugated sheet metal hastily attached to the brick covering what had once been windows.

She’d left the security of the city of Maiduguri to get the real story of what life was like in the war-torn area, especially in the small villages beyond the limited reach of the Nigerian Army. But getting captured by the Boko Haram terrorists she was here to write about was never part of that plan, and now she was in serious trouble.

She hugged her knees and stared at the door that served as the only way in or out of the room. It was impossible to look away from it for more than a few seconds at a time because she was terrified one of the terrorists would storm in at any minute and catch her unaware. Though she had no idea how she was supposed to prepare herself for what she knew was coming soon.

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, berating herself for ever having left the dorm rooms at the university where she’d been staying with the other international journalists. But she’d been sent by her paper back in the States to get real stories, not the fabricated stuff the local military command had been trying to sell them, and the only way to do that was to go outside the city.

According to the official word, Boko Haram was a decimated fighting force, barely hanging onto a few tattered strongholds out in the jungles along the far eastern edges of Borno State, but all it took was one look at the terrified faces of the locals—not to mention one moment spent listening to the sounds of intense fighting outside the city at night—to convince her that was all crap. So she’d slipped away, made a deal to get a vehicle, and headed toward one of the local villages that had recently been attacked in the hopes of getting something real. That’s when she’d been ambushed by the Boko Haram and her Land Rover had flipped over. She been knocked unconscious and woken up in this nasty place. While she had a cell to herself, she wasn’t the only woman being held captive. The screams of the other female prisoners echoed in the air at all hours of the day and night. She shuddered to think what was happening to them.

For the first day or so, she’d held out some hope the men who’d rammed her Land Rover off the road a few miles south of the village of Dalori would ransom her back to the government in return for weapons, money, or food—maybe even a prisoner exchange. That hope had faded quickly when the terrorists had come into her prison cell to taunt her with her fate. They took turns shoving her around, laughing as they told her in words she barely understood what she was in for as soon after the “colonel” returned from wiping out whatever poor, defenseless village had attracted his unfortunate attention.

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