Dying Commitment (Lucky Thirteen)

Dying Commitment

A Lucky Thirteen Novel

S.M. Butler

Dedication

For my parents, who have stood by me time after time,

supported me when I fell down, cleaned my cuts,

and gave me a Band-Aid before sending me off to play again.

Five years ago, former NSA agent Cadence Long almost died from her mentor’s bullet. She learned one valuable lesson that day: Trust no one. That’s why her casual friendship with Dylan works so well. They both agree that a romantic relationship is off the table but when he starts flashing that dazzling smile and those twin dimples at her, the sizzling attraction between them becomes impossible for her to resist.

Navy SEAL Dylan Urban is ready for more than a romp in the sheets with Cadence, but convincing her proves a more difficult mission than he’s prepared for. After she runs off on an unsanctioned, one-woman kamikaze mission, the only way he can see to protect Cadence is to get her open up herself to trust him, but it might mean losing his heart in the process.

While on the trail of one of the most notorious traitors in recent history, both Dylan and Cadence must decide if what they have or could have is worth giving up the chase, or if for once, they might have to trust another to break down the walls they so carefully crafted.

This New Adult title includes adult situations and language and may not be suitable for readers under 18 years.

The reading order for the Lucky Thirteen series:

1. Killing Honor
   
2. Wounded Courage
   
3. Dying Commitment
   

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CHAPTER ONE

Cadence

Five years ago, my partner shot me and left me for dead. He took my weapons, my money, and I got a double tap to the chest for my trouble.

It wasn’t like I loved him, not like a romantic kind of love anyway. It was much worse than that. I trusted him.

Since then, I stayed away from close relationships. I kept everyone at a distance. I never allowed myself to enter into another partnership like that. Sex stayed shallow and meaningless. It was safer that way, you know? That way no one got hurt. I didn't get shot. Life went on.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Then I meet the Lucky Thirteen crew and now I had this Bambi-eyed kid following me around like a puppy. He was cute, really good in bed. But he didn't understand, and I didn't have the patience to teach him why relationships couldn’t happen.

Because feelings get you killed in our line of work.

That was why I always said my old partner, Jack, took my heart with him when he betrayed me. I’d used my heart too much, trusted him to watch my back. Because when the time came, he was out for him and no one else. Jack Allen had been more than my partner. He’d been my friend, my mentor, my lover, and I’d been taken to the cleaners for it.

I didn’t really think that Dylan would do that, too. He was far too innocent for that, but I couldn’t trust my own judgment. I had to be suspicious of everyone. I couldn’t let anyone in. I had been an NSA agent when I’d been caught by the Giroux goons over three years ago. SEAL Team Thirteen had been tasked to retrieve me. But what they hadn’t known was that the mission I was on hadn’t been sanctioned by my bosses. I’d been there trying to get intel on Jack Allen’s whereabouts and I’d slipped up.

The SEALs’ Master Chief, Stephen Collins, had asked me to work for him when the NSA decided I was too much of a wild card, and since his team wasn’t under the military umbrella anymore, I’d accepted. It gave me the freedom to really track my old partner without having to answer to government agencies, especially since I knew he was involved with Giroux Enterprises.

Of course, none of that would help me with this particular situation. Dylan Urban, one of the Lucky Thirteen SEALs, was passed out next to me, lightly snoring away. I didn’t blame him. We’d been particularly… active tonight. His lean body was mostly uncovered, his habit of restless sleep having kicked away the sheet for the most part. He was flipped over on his stomach, the sheet barely covering one ass cheek.

I was four years older than him, which made me feel like a cougar in training, though I was only twenty-six. I didn’t know why I chose him or let him sweet talk his way into my pants. There was something about him. Maybe it was because he was the youngest member of the team, or maybe it was because of his carefree attitude. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have the battle scars that everyone else did. That I did. I brushed my fingers over the puckered pink scar on my chest. I could still feel the sharp pain of that bullet that had pierced my chest, or the second matching one three inches over. That second one had punctured a lung.

Dylan’s skin was clear of blemishes like that. He had a few tattoos I’d found while exploring his body over the last few months, a dragon on his back and an anchor on his arm. But no scars.

I slipped out of the bed, fumbling around in the dark to find the clothes I’d thrown on the floor. One of these days, I’d realize I’d need to dig through the dark to find them and actually leave them on a chair or something so they’d be easier to find later.

I found my pants, but not my underwear. Dylan had taken those off me, so who knew where they ended up. I glanced around the room, annoyed. I had to stop letting him do that. It made getting dressed so much more difficult.

Fuck it. I had to get out of there. That was one of my rules. I didn’t stay over. There was no sharing of bed space when I slept. It was too intimate and I didn’t do intimate.

Light flooded the room. I froze, half in my pants. One leg was already in the pants, but I was balancing on one leg, the other poised to go in the other leg.

Shit. Dylan was awake.

I so did not want to have this conversation right now. Not at three in the morning. Hell, not ever.

~*~*~

Dylan

Cady was sneaking out again. It was like clockwork every damn time. She showed up after eleven at night. We fucked like superstar bunnies until the wee hours of the morning. And then she snuck out once she thought I was asleep. Only this time she wasn’t getting away clean.

I flipped on the lamp. Light flooded the room, making me blink as I sat up. She froze, like a bunny confronted by a predator, one leg in her pants, the other up in the air. She sighed and shoved her other foot into her pants and yanked them on her long, lithe legs.

“In a hurry?”

“Have to catch the train back,” she replied, fastening her front clasp bra over exquisite breasts I spend a lot of time getting to know an hour ago.

“The train doesn’t run this late. And you rode your bike here. You’re running off… again,” I scowled at her. I understood commitment phobia. But this was beyond that.

She stopped, her shirt in her hand scrutinizing me, looking for something.

“Bambi, don’t make this into a thing. We are having a good time. You’re getting laid. It’s win-win.”

Bambi again. She only called me that when she wanted distance. Six months of knowing someone carnally tended to give a person knowledge into the intricacies of their mind. Cady liked distance. She liked having a wall between what we did physically, and friendship. Because Cadence Long didn’t do friendship.

I didn’t have the will to tell her it wasn’t winning. Besides, if I did, she’d still leave. It wasn’t hard to see she’d been burned before, though she refused to admit it, or even talk about it.

I didn’t know the specifics of her break from the NSA. The only thing I knew for sure was that when SEAL Team Thirteen broke from the military, Cadence had become part of the package, first as our resident NSA agent, then later joined the team after she helped recover Murphy and Addison last year.

“Will I see you again?” I admit the question made me kind of unmanly. But there was something about Cady, something fascinating, something that kept me coming back when I knew I shouldn’t. I was twenty-two years old and all I wanted was her. It was kinda sad really. I should have been down at Danny’s or hanging out downtown to pick up girls who liked the idea of screwing a SEAL.

She paused. Was that pity I saw in her eyes? “Bambi, we agreed we would keep this casual.”

“I know. It is casual.” I was a goddamned liar. We had been doing this for half a year, regularly. Our first time was three years ago, when we had rescued her from Giroux Enterprises. Of course, then we didn’t see each other for a long time, until she joined the team full time. I knew we were different though. Casual fuck buddies didn’t regularly meet every damn night of the week. There was nothing casual about what we were doing. Maybe it had started that way, but that wasn’t what it was now. I just needed her to admit it.

She pulled her tank top back over her head, covering the soft flesh I’d been licking and biting only an hour earlier. “I have to be at work in three hours.”

At least that was probably the truth. I stood up, letting the sheet fall from my body. The carnal look on her face, the one that usually meant she wanted to devour me, had my cock twitching back to life. I sauntered toward her slowly, letting her take in every inch. She could deny it all day, but she wanted me. Even after fucking her all night, she still wanted me.

I stopped only a few inches from her, and grinned. “Three hours is enough time for round… what is it, four?”

“It’s three, you egotistical bastard.”

“Oh, you’re counting now. Interesting,” I drawled, stroking my chin.

“It’s not going to work. I need to shower.”

“You can shower here.” I cupped her face and lowered my mouth to hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips, the slight sugary leftover of her lip balm. She melted into my arms, her hands sliding over my chest until her fingers flexed over my shoulders.

She broke the kiss, her eyes shining with fiery desire, and took a step out of my arms. “See you at work?”

Hiding my disappointment, I nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Her eyes cased over my body and a smile played at her full, pink lips. “You might want to remember pants, though.” Before I could respond, she grabbed her bag from where she’d dropped it when she came in, and practically flew out the door.

Groaning, I flopped backward on the bed, sprawling out across the mattress. She was seriously trying to kill me. The sex was good—amazing, even—but after six months, the shallowness of it was wearing on me. We’d eased into a routine, like a regular couple, but we weren’t one. We were just… well, we weren’t even friends, honestly. She didn’t hang out with the team at all. She never made any attempt to ask me questions or get to know me. We were practically strangers. Strangers who fucked each other brainless at least three times a week.

~*~*~

Cadence

The ride back to my apartment from Dylan’s hotel room was lonely. It always was. After spending several hours pretending to be human, riding back to reality physically gave me chest pains. Dylan lasted longer than the others, but he was starting to get ideas. It was almost time to say goodbye to that arrangement. That hurt me more than it should have. I’d let myself actually like the kid.

Walking up to my third floor apartment made my legs feel like jelly, though I suspected that had a lot to do with the sexcapades Dylan put me through. The boy was beyond talented in a physical capacity. His tongue was wicked and should have only been used for powers of good.

I tossed my bag onto the chair as I came in and let the door shut behind me. I flipped the deadbolt and relocked the other lock, and faced the room. The lamp in the corner was on, as I had left it, and the window was still locked. The patio doors were untouched. Everything felt good, so once I was satisfied all was how I left it, I walked over to my desk and sat down. I was exhausted, but too strung up to sleep, so I flipped up the laptop lid and booted up the game.

The game was so different from what my life was that it gave me the opportunity to get lost in it. I could pretend to be someone else for a few hours. Someone who didn’t have people needing things from her or someone who didn’t have to be distant from the world. That and I could go kill things until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, and no one got mad at me for it.

Sometimes, I missed working for the NSA. These days, most of my work was computer-related for Lucky Thirteen, rather than field work. It was my specialty. I could get into any system. It was my gift and my curse. That was why Jack had needed me. He’d have never hacked that security system without me. He wasn’t that smart. At least, not over that subject matter. He’d been smart enough to get past my defenses though. He’d been smart enough to wait until I was in the shower to take my weapons and he’d been smart enough to shoot me while I was literally naked and defenseless.