The Mavericks: Book Bundles 1-9

Kerrick:

A USA Today Bestselling Book 

On the precipice of change … Just not the way he’d expected …

Kerrick is tagged to join a new elite group, where he’d have more say and less rules on missions. Working mostly alone, he’s to track down a kidnapped victim suspected of being in England, and likely she’s not the only one. This is his kind of job; finding out a longtime friend is his backup makes this mission a go.

Amanda is snatched at the end of her workday while walking to her vehicle. Days later she wakes to find she’s imprisoned, alone in a small cement cell. One rotting meal a day is provided, and that is it. Once she realizes someone else is here–a young boy—she’s even more determined to escape. And to take him with her. Running into Kerrick wasn’t the plan …

Escaping is only one part of the puzzle as the truth drags them to Europe and beyond as they sort out how the two kidnappings are related, who’s behind it all and why … Before they are run aground and imprisoned all over again …

Kerrick Cassidy looked at the text message and frowned.
Meet at 1830.

He knew who the sender was, but he hadn’t heard from this guy in a long time. He had always been a bit on the raw side, a law unto himself, a maverick among humans. Kerrick had heard he’d gone into the military but had lost track of him. Was it the same friend? Kerrick’s phone ID’d the man’s name and number. Or rather, a version of his nickname.

Kerrick sent a quick message back. Where and why?
Waterside Pub. That pub—or dive—was just inside the San Diego city limits but still close to where Kerrick now stood in his apartment in Coronado. Waterside was more of a locals’ hangout, and one Kerrick knew well. As he thought about it, he realized it’s where he’d met this friend a long time ago. But there was no explanation as to the why part of the message. At that, he frowned, checking his watch. It was 5:35 p.m. now. He had no plans. He had enough time to make the meeting, even with Friday night traffic.

So, was that a coincidence, or was something else going on here? He sent his old friend an affirmative reply while standing and staring out the window of his small apartment. He was living on the Coronado base in standard base housing, but that was short-term. As in, very short-term. Like, … his entire military career was soon over. He was done with the navy. At least in the capacity he’d served.

He was at a crossroads in his life, one that he looked forward to but, at the same time, he’d given a lot of his best years to the navy. He’d been part of their elite group, but sometimes the people around you changed, and the people above you changed, and Kerrick had been chafing at the rules and the regulations for a long time. He was one of the more senior guys and knew that he should be moving on. Others had gone on to have life partners and families, rounding out their lives. Kerrick didn’t have either of those things to keep him grounded.
He used to, but that was a long time ago. He and his wife had been childhood sweethearts. He’d only been in the navy a couple years and hadn’t even made it to his elite group yet when she and their six-month-old daughter had been killed in a car accident. Some men hit the bottle; others managed to recover from life-changing events like that. In his case, Kerrick locked all the hurt inside and had faced the world, angrier, harder, and more determined to bury himself and all his pain in his work.

Kerrick stared at his phone, frowning, wondering if he should show up for this meet. He didn’t have any reason not to. The thing was, the longer he’d been in the service, the more Kerrick understood other men’s struggles with the regimented lifestyle. While Kerrick had taken solace in the rules and regulations, others had chafed at the restrictions. Kerrick had more of a get-along-with and do-the-job type of attitude. He’d been all about the team.

As the teams had expanded, and as the number of members in this elite group had totaled several thousand, the atmosphere had changed. It was great if you could stay in the group that you loved and with the men who you knew and trusted. But, when they left or were transferred, it became an ever-changing sea of faces. The status was changing too, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to have unknown guys, untested guys, guys ten years younger than him watching his back.
And he knew that they looked at him and worried that maybe Kerrick was past his prime. Just the thought of that angered him. No way he was washed-up. Not at thirty-four. But something was definitely different in his outlook now. And it went beyond the everlasting agony of losing his wife and child. It was another kind of ache in his soul. He wanted to do more; he wanted to go into foreign countries and take out the insurgents like they needed to be taken out.

But he was forever being held back by the politically correct actions as dictated by the brass above. And sometimes it really chafed to have men a long ways away make decisions about matters they couldn’t possibly comprehend, not without boots on the ground. Hell, even friendly fire was an issue on the bases. If the brass couldn’t handle the fights in their own bases, how were they deemed worthy to supervise any op in a foreign country?

He shook his head, grabbed his keys, and walked out. He locked the door behind him, feeling a sense of finality in the movement. Although he slept here, he didn’t really live here. He kept his civilian clothes to a minimum. He was always ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and he cared about nothing in that place. The memories of his wife and daughter were the only things that still mattered, and he kept those inside. Sure, he’d had relationships since losing them, but those quick hookups had been more for him to reconnect to the world and maybe to let off some steam and just to have a bit of fun every once in a while. His heart, however, was well-guarded.
Nobody walked away from an experience like his without some scars to show for it. And he had yet to find a way to manage those scars. And the physical scars on his body? Well, he didn’t give a crap about those. They were beyond fixing and were so much a part of him that even he’d forgotten how he’d gotten a lot of them. And none of them bothered him, yet he knew it would bother other women. Not the females he tended to spend time with now. They couldn’t care less. They just wanted a good hard ride, and he was up for that any day.

But the softer side of a real relationship—with love, true love, like that special relationship he’d had with Aurora—that part he kept hidden. He was afraid his ability to give true love had died permanently with her but held out hope that one day he’d find himself responding emotionally to another woman.
When he walked into the pub five minutes early, he didn’t recognize anybody in the smoke-filled room. He ordered a draft off the bar and took it outside. He always preferred to be outside anyway. He found his friend sitting there, in the far corner on the patio, waiting for him and watching him approach. Kerrick studied him as he sat down. “The years haven’t been kind,” Kerrick said bluntly.

His friend smiled, shook his head, and said, “No, they haven’t been. Doesn’t look like they’ve been too kind to you either.”

Kerrick shrugged, still bristling at the idea that he might be past his prime, and said, “I’m doing fine.”