Call To Redemption

The Poseidon team are hard-bodied, fiercely competitive Navy SEALs. But when a sensitive mission goes disastrously wrong, three of the team’s finest will have to trust their hearts and instincts to uncover the truth...

No strings. No questions. Just pleasure. For a few blissful days, Lieutenant Commander Nic Savino is enjoying a wild fling with the sexiest stranger he’s ever laid eyes—or any other body part—on. It’s almost enough to make the stalwart SEAL let down his guard for once. Until he learns that assistant US attorney Darby Raye—his Darby—is heading an investigation designed to destroy him...and Poseidon.

The gorgeous eyes that Darby spent her nights gazing into are now glaring at her across a courtroom. This case could build her career, but if Nic’s not a traitor, then he’s being framed by forces powerful enough to eliminate every obstacle in their way. And the tentative trust she and Nic are rebuilding—as well as their very lives—could become collateral damage...

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Tawny Weber

“A sexy, hot SEAL undercover in more ways than one.... Tawny Weber nails this steamy suspense.”

—New York Times bestselling author Cristin Harber

“This hot and sexy adventure takes readers on a thrilling ride of romance, secrets and SEALs.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Wow...a fantastic series by Ms. Weber. This amazing story line manages to make you cry, make you smile and make your heart turn inside out.... Get it, read it, love it.”

—Harlequin Junkie

“Tawny Weber...has created the perfect hero for our time and a sizzling page-turner! What an awesome start to her Team Poseidon series.”

—New York Times bestselling author

Vicki Lewis Thompson

“I love a good SEAL romance and Tawny Weber knocked this one out of the park. Don’t miss it!”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Karen Fenech

“Reminiscent of Suzanne Brockmann’s Troubleshooters series, Weber’s latest will appeal to her fans as well as other military-romance readers...a good read with an engaging heroine and child.”

—Booklist

“Call to Honor is a tightly plotted story with a few startling turns of events, the characters are all credible and...the pace never falters.”

—Fresh Fiction

Call to Redemption

Tawny Weber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Birgit, with thanks.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

“LIEUTENANT COMMANDER DOMINIC SAVINO, you stand accused of conduct unbecoming of an officer, disobeying orders and conspiracy to commit treason.”

The voice boomed like a cannon, its roar a vivid contrast to the courtroom’s silence. As he stood at attention on the stand, the sound ricocheted down Nic’s spine like a piece of shrapnel, ripping and tearing.

“Commander, do you understand these charges?”

Understand? Nic had a solid understanding of the fact that he’d been framed, that he was the fall guy for some treasonous son of a bitch. Someone in power with a network of Navy personnel was focused on lining their bank account at the expense of their country.

Yeah.

He understood that.

That, and everything that came with the charges leveled against him. Court-martial. Prison time. The end of his career. The loss of his freedom. The destruction of his team. Fury rose, rolling like waves that crested higher with each heartbeat.

But none of that was evident on his face. Neither awareness nor fury was allowed to show.

“Affirmative.”

“How do you plead?”

Nic’s gaze didn’t shift left, didn’t move right. His dead-eye stare was aimed straight ahead, focused on the rippling glory of the American flag hanging over the courtroom’s double doors.

He replayed the accusation. He thought back over the previous year’s events.

An operation gone horribly wrong that’d resulted in life-threatening injuries to one team member and the supposed death of another.

The realization that a SEAL, a man sworn to serve his country, would steal classified information to sell to the highest bidder, put his teammates lives in peril and fake his own death—all for money. That shocking acceptance that the same man would target a young child and a defenseless woman, and kill a fellow SEAL.

And now the emotional train wreck of watching his team targeted by an asshole with an agenda who was determined to ignore the fact that Poseidon was being framed by a traitorous sociopath with psychotic tendencies.

It’d all been coming down to this.

The moment of truth.

After fourteen years of service protecting the safety and freedom of his country, it wasn’t Nic’s life on the line this time. This time, it was his team. His career. His reputation. His own freedom.

Ignoring the tight knot in his gut, he shifted his gaze infinitesimally to the right. He gave Lieutenant Thomas a look cold enough to freeze the man’s innards and, in a clear voice, stated, “Not guilty.”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightened. Why the man would flash frustration was baffling. Any first-year JAG would have expected that exact plea. Nic filed away the expression to decipher later.

For now, he simply let his stare intimidate until the Lieutenant turned away. But not before Nic caught the line between his brows twitching.

For the first time since he’d walked into the courtroom that morning, the tension tying his intestines in knots loosened.

He was innocent.

Poseidon was clean.

No matter what information the Lieutenant and his team thought they’d bring to the table over the course of this trial, Nic knew that neither he, nor any of his men, had done anything illegal, against orders or in any way traitorous.

But knowing that didn’t ensure he’d walk away from this trial. Not with his freedom. Quite possibly not with his career and reputation intact. The odds of keeping his command, of holding together an elite Special Ops team after being brought up on such charges, were slim.

But now?

Nic watched as Thomas exchanged frowns with the Lieutenant Commander seated at the prosecutors’ table.

Now? He had hope. More, he had faith that he’d not only be vindicated, but that he’d also keep his command, his team and, dammit, that they’d nail the real traitor before this was over.

It was then and only then that he allowed his gaze to shift. For a millisecond, he glanced toward the gallery.

His team spanned the first row. Ten men in uniform, each one wearing a look of implacable determination. Each one radiating strength and dedication. And yes, each one looking equally pissed at the insult they knew they’d been served.

Nic’s gaze shifted to the right, toward the woman sitting just behind the prosecution.

Beneath an edgy fringe of bangs, a pair of huge gold eyes stared back at him. In those molten depths he saw two things. Strength and challenge.

How had he gotten this far in life without her?

And what the hell was he going to do now that he’d found her?

Nic had spent his adult life training, leading, fighting for his country. Without hesitation, he’d put his life, his guts and his reputation on the line time and time again. But today, his innocence wasn’t the only thing at stake.

Nor was this a simple matter of justice.

He was a Lieutenant Commander in the United States Navy.

He was a multidecorated Navy SEAL.

He was a SEAL team platoon leader, he commanded over a hundred military and civilian personnel.

He’d fought in wars. He’d led missions. He’d orchestrated clandestine operations. He’d conceptualized, created, evaluated and nurtured the elite force of Team Poseidon. He’d honed his skills in leadership, combat and procedure.

In the last six months, he’d lost a man. He’d killed another. He’d had a building explode around him. He’d been betrayed and brought to trial to face the accusation of the very crimes he’d fought to end.

And for the first time in thirty-three years, Nic risked something that many people—including himself—had come to believe didn’t exist.

His heart.

Lost it to the woman who could easily destroy his life.

CHAPTER ONE

Two Months Earlier

OH, MY.

She’d been told the views in Hanalei were impressive, but she’d had no idea just how impressive.

Darby Raye ran her tongue over her bottom lip, planted her elbows on the balcony railing and leaned out farther to get a clearer view. Not of the beach, although the pristine surf churning over the sand of Hanalei was unquestionably worth a second—and third—look. And she wasn’t sighing over the indigo-streaked cerulean sky, although there was no denying that it deserved a few deep breaths of appreciation.

Nope, what had snagged her attention on her first night of the first vacation she’d taken in years was the unbelievably gorgeous man seated at the beachside bar below.

There was something familiar about him, but whether it was the double Scotch she’d already knocked back or the glare of the sun off the ocean, she couldn’t quite figure it out. Eyes narrowed, she leaned out just a little farther.

Dark hair was cut short enough to frame a face made more powerful by the contrast of angles and curves. Sharp cheekbones were emphasized by a goatee that ran along his chiseled jaw while full lips and lush lashes hinted at softness. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes from here, but they looked dark. A worn blue T-shirt was draped over broad shoulders, cupped biceps impressive enough to bench-press a Harley and lay flat against abs that didn’t appear to even have a concept of the meaning of the word flab.

But how was his ass? Great abs were all well and good, but the true measure of a man was how fine of an ass he had.

She craned her neck to the side, squinting a little behind the amber lenses of her shades. But the angle was wrong. She shifted a couple of steps to the right and tilted her head a little, brushing at the swath of hair skimming her chin. Still nothing.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Raye?”

Darby gave brief consideration to embarrassment, but this was a vacation. A time to let loose and have fun. Besides, embarrassment simply wasn’t one of her key personality traits.

“Hey, Tito,” she greeted, giving the waiter a friendly smile. “Just checking out the view and debating whether to head to the downstairs lanai for dinner instead of staying here.”

“The band will be setting up on the lower lanai soon. Much better choice for a lovely single woman to meet a dance partner.” Dark eyes dancing, the cocoa-skinned waiter waved one husky arm toward the circular stairs leading down the side of the hotel. “Please, go downstairs. I will bring your pupu platter beachside to enjoy.”

That sounded crowded.

Like embarrassment, spending her first night of relaxation around a bunch of people wasn’t high on Darby’s list of things to do.

“I think I’ll stay here.”

“No, no, you should go. Enjoy the music and have some fun. To start you on your way, here is a haupia.” He offered the tray with a half bow, delivering the frothy snowfall in a martini glass. A glistening raspberry nestled against a delicate pink orchid while a hint of pink sugar dusted the edge of the glass. “Ms. Nulty called and ordered it for you. Please, enjoy.”

Uh-huh.

Wondering if she’d ever seen anything more girlie, Darby eyed the drink. She was tempted to refuse.

But her secretary, Grace, would undoubtedly do a follow-up.

And, hey, vacation.

Darby was under strict orders to do it up right, and those orders had come from the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office. He was the man who, being the soul of trust, had assigned Grace as a guard dog to make sure she complied.

So Darby took the drink.

Then, just in case her boss had enlisted spies in addition to the guard dog—federal prosecutors really did have major trust issues—she took a cautious sip.

“Mmm.”

“Most delicious, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she repeated, sucking down another taste of the creamy rum and coconut. It actually wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Scotch.

“Now go, down to the lanai. Enjoy the haupia and the beach while making new friends.”

Did she have to?

Darby didn’t consider herself an introvert—she didn’t have a shy bone in her body—yet she definitely wasn’t a people person. But she’d come on this vacation to someplace she’d never been, telling herself to try things she’d never done. Vacation was time to shake up life, to step outside the box.

“The lanai sounds great,” she agreed. Adding a smile to her thanks, Darby headed for the stairs, sipping more of the frothy drink.

She’d only made a few steps when her cell phone chimed.

“AUSA Darby Raye,” she answered automatically.

“I thought you said this was going to be a totally relaxed, one-hundred-percent-committed-to-only-having-fun vacation. Shouldn’t that include leaving your phone in your room, partying too loudly to hear a ringtone or relaxing enough to forget your job title.” The accusation came with just enough laughter to make Darby roll her eyes.

“Hey, I’m in Hawaii wearing a flower in my hair and drinking pink froth at sunset. That says real vacation to me. Besides, it’s my first night. I’ve been here a total of two hours and am wearing flat sandals. Flat. Sandals. What’s that if not relaxed?”

Darby glanced down at one of the sandals, angling her left foot this way and that. Flats definitely weren’t as flattering as heels. But maybe the copper beadwork rescued the look.

Maybe.

“Holy crap! You, Darby Raye, Assistant United States Attorney, ferocious federal prosecutor and general all-around hard-ass? Instead of mile-high sexy stilettos, you’re wearing flats?” The sound of Grace’s finger snap came through loud and clear over the robust sound of her laugh. “Send a photo. This I have to see.”

“Nope. It’s your fault that me and my sandal-clad feet are even on vacation. Well, yours and the HR department. No photos. Not unless you want to trade places.”

“I’d laugh, except I know you’re not kidding. You’d actually rather be here, slogging through another eighty-hour week instead of hanging ten on a surfboard or being pampered in a spa.” Grace’s sigh came through loud and clear.

Of course she’d rather be working. She loved her career. Her job was her life, and she was damn good at it. Good enough that she was fast-tracking it to be one of the top attorneys in the Southern California office. Or she was, until Grace had mentioned to her lunch buddy in HR that Darby hadn’t taken a single vacation since she’d started with the US Attorney’s office in Virginia two years ago. She’d learned from the best that work was life and life was work. Since the tender age of twelve, she’d lived by that oft-quoted motto of her father’s. They were the last words he’d spoken to her on one of the rare times he’d availed himself of his custody visits.

Darby puffed out a breath with enough force to flutter her bangs, but refrained from reminding her friend of that. Not because she wanted to avoid the argument. She was an attorney. She loved to argue. But the key to a good argument was knowing when a loss was inevitable. So Darby had easily recognized the uselessness of arguing with Grace when she’d pointed out that this vacation was Darby’s best shot at the upcoming slot on the National Security Division that was rumored to be opening in a few months.

Darby wanted that spot. It’d be a big shiny feather in her cap, to say nothing of a smooth jump over a few rungs on the success ladder.

She was good enough. She had a solid rep, an impressive case-closure rate in cybercrimes and human trafficking. And she had the support of a number of influential higher-ups. But her age, her lack of experience arguing terrorism cases and the new head of Human Resources’ fixation on a healthy work-life balance were working against her.

She couldn’t do anything about her age, but thought her work on the Antiterrorism Advisory Council helped offset her lack of trial experience in matters of national security. Which left that work-life-balance crap. Darby grimaced.

Hence, Grace’s answer... Vacation.

As if reading her mind, Grace said, “Office pool puts you at three days, fourteen hours before you give up and hop a flight home.”

“Any idea if Jenkins is in on that pool?” she asked, referring to the new head of Human Resources.

“You know the bets are confidential,” Grace chided.

“So?”

“He puts you at two days.”

Darby smiled—leave it to Grace. That ability to ferret out the tiniest of details was one of the woman’s best traits. Between that, enough tenacity to do a bulldog proud and a personality that blended like butter with anyone anywhere, the woman made a stellar legal secretary.

A fact for which Darby was forever grateful.

She’d gone through four secretaries in her first two weeks at the Southern California office and had been well on her way to cementing her reputation as a hard-ass with an attitude. That part she hadn’t minded, but the changeover and lack of decent help had put a serious crimp in her plans toward career stardom. That, and having to remember the names of the parade of secretaries had worn on her last nerve. When Grace Nulty had walked in the door looking like someone’s favorite aunt, she hadn’t bothered adding the redhead’s name to her cheat sheet.

Within five weeks, the cheat sheet was trashed and Darby was satisfactorily tracking her way toward career stardom again. Not only did Grace keep up with Darby’s breakneck pace, but she also anticipated, intuited and, when necessary, argued.

All awesome things.

Until she’d turned them on Darby herself.

First it’d been her relentless pursuit of friendship. Darby was perfectly content—happy, even—to be friendless in the workplace. As far as she was concerned, office-based friendships only led to trouble. Especially in a job as competitive and cutthroat as hers.

She still wasn’t sure how the other woman had outflanked her, but somehow, they’d become friends. But not even Darby, a woman who argued for a living, had been strong enough to win against Grace’s relentless cheer and focused determination.

She’d used that same cheer and determination to convince Darby that a week of luaus and lying on the beach would help her career.

Damn the woman.

It wasn’t that Darby had moral or religious objections to vacations...

She just didn’t see the point.

Oh, sure, maybe she should have taken a big celebratory vacation last year when she’d become a federal prosecutor. A lot of people had said making Assistant US Attorney by the time she was twenty-seven was an amazing accomplishment. Others had muttered about nepotism, citing Darby’s late father’s reputation with the federal prosecutor’s office for her foot up onto the fast track.

But Darby had learned young to ignore what people said. As always, she’d aimed her focus on work. On finding the quickest climb up the ladder her father had chosen for her when she was ten. And nowhere on that ladder was there room for vacations. Work, education, networking. That was her focus. Her only focus.

She’d have happily continued her vacationless lifestyle if Grace hadn’t ferreted out that the HR exec was reluctant to recommend Darby for the new position. The woman was a stickler for that wimpy work-life balance she was always lecturing Darby on.

“I’ll make the entire eight days,” Darby vowed in answer to Grace’s comment about the office pool. Not just for the shot at the promotion, but because she was hardwired to prove that she could do whatever anyone said she couldn’t.

“I have every faith that you will. But do it right, okay? Treat it like a vacation, not a point of pride. Prove that you can have a life outside of work.”

“My career is my life,” she said with a sassy smile. But her sass turned into a sigh as soon as the words were out.

That catchphrase had been her personal mantra since graduating law school. A mantra she loved epitomizing because it made her feel powerful, and dammit, kept her on the fast track to success.

A mantra that had, quite recently, been thrown in her face along with a whole lot of other accusations that were probably just as true.

“Don’t start doubting yourself,” Grace responded, obviously reading her mind. The mothering tone came over the line like a finger shake with a hug on the side.

“Why would I doubt myself?”

Just because the guy she’d dated for eight months had accused her of caring about nothing except her career, to say nothing of being coldhearted, narrow-minded and obsessive.

“Exactly. Why would you?” Grace responded. “You’re a powerhouse. Darby Raye, Assistant US Attorney. Powerhouse federal prosecutor. Ballbuster, crime fighter, law wielder. You take no crap from anyone on your fast flight up the ladder of success. If a guy can’t handle that, too bad.”

“Exactly,” Darby agreed with a laugh. And she did agree. She’d never made a secret of her ambitions or her priorities.

But maybe Paul had had a few points. It’d been her obsessive focus on her career that had kept her from noticing the telltale warning signs that he saw their relationship as something much more serious than she did.

Darby had dated the man for almost four months while she was still living in Virginia. The JAG attorney had thought it was romantic to transfer from Little Creek to the San Diego naval base. She, on the other hand, thought it was creepy.

But knowing the value of well-placed bridges, influential circles and tiptoeing around fragile male egos, it’d taken her three months of letting him down gently to break it off.

And another one to convince him that it was actually over.

She should have skipped worrying about bridges and circles and tramped his damn ego as soon as he’d shown up on her doorstep in San Diego, Darby thought with a grimace.