Danger Zone (The Elite Book 1) Read online

  DANGER ZONE

  The Elite #1

  BROOKE BLAINE

  ELLA FRANK

  Copyright © 2020 by Brooke Blaine & Ella Frank

  www.brookeblaine.com

  www.ellafrank.com

  Edited by Arran McNicol

  Cover Design: By Hang Le

  Cover Photography: Viccaro Roberto

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Also by Brooke Blaine

  Also by Ella Frank

  Classified Information

  1. Grant Hughes

  2. Mateo Morgan

  3. Mateo Morgan

  4. Grant Hughes

  5. Panther

  6. Solo

  7. Panther

  8. Solo

  9. Panther

  10. Solo

  11. Panther

  12. Solo

  13. Panther

  14. Solo

  15. Panther

  16. Panther

  17. Solo

  18. Panther

  19. Solo

  20. Panther

  21. Solo

  22. Panther

  23. Solo

  24. Panther

  25. Solo

  26. Panther

  27. Solo

  28. Panther

  29. Solo

  30. Panther

  31. Solo

  32. Panther

  33. Solo

  34. Panther

  35. Solo

  36. Panther

  37. Solo

  38. Panther

  39. Solo

  Thank You

  About Brooke Blaine

  About Ella Frank

  Synopsis

  They train to serve their country.

  They strive to be the best.

  But only a select few can be...

  The Elite

  * * *

  MATEO MORGAN

  CALL SIGN: SOLO

  Reckless, arrogant, and bold, Solo is as known in the U.S. Navy for his bad-boy reputation as he is for his skills as a fighter pilot. It’s a surprise to his peers, then, when he’s chosen to train and compete at the most prestigious naval aviation academy in the world.

  MISSION RULES:

  1.Kick everyone’s ass.

  2.Do whatever it takes to win.

  3.Do your best to distract the competition.

  4.Especially when that competition is a gorgeous blue-eyed perfectionist who makes your blood run hot.

  * * *

  GRANT HUGHES

  CALL SIGN: PANTHER

  Disciplined, smart, and confident, Panther can’t afford not to play by the rules. As the son of a top Navy commander, all eyes are on him, and being anything less than number one is unacceptable.

  MISSION RULES:

  1.Keep it safe in the air.

  2.Prove you’re more than Commander Hughes’s son.

  3.No distractions. Stay focused.

  4.Don’t fall for your competition—especially not the rebellious heartbreaker with lips made for sinning.

  In the heat of the hot California sun, tempers flare and desires ignite as Solo and Panther try to resist their attraction while fighting to be number one.

  With passion this intense, the question remains:

  Who’s gonna come out on top?

  Also by Brooke Blaine

  South Haven Series

  A Little Bit Like Love

  A Little Bit Like Desire

  The Unforgettable Duet

  Forget Me Not

  Remember Me When

  L.A. Liaisons Series

  Licked

  Hooker

  P.I.T.A.

  Romantic Suspense

  Flash Point

  PresLocke Series

  Co-Authored with Ella Frank

  Aced

  Locked

  Wedlocked

  Fallen Angel Series

  Co-Authored with Ella Frank

  HALO

  VIPER

  ANGEL

  An Affair In Paris

  Standalone Novels

  Co-Authored with Ella Frank

  Sex Addict

  Shiver

  Wrapped Up in You

  All I Want for Christmas…Is My Sister’s Boyfriend

  Also by Ella Frank

  The Exquisite Series

  Exquisite

  Entice

  Edible

  The Temptation Series

  Try

  Take

  Trust

  Tease

  Tate

  True

  Confessions Series

  Confessions: Robbie

  Confessions: Julien

  Confessions: Priest

  Confessions: The Princess, The Prick & The Priest

  Confessions: Henri

  Confessions: Bailey

  Sunset Cove Series

  Finley

  Devil’s Kiss

  Masters Among Monsters Series

  Alasdair

  Isadora

  Thanos

  Standalones

  Blind Obsession

  Veiled Innocence

  PresLocke Series

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  ACED

  LOCKED

  WEDLOCKED

  Fallen Angel Series

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  HALO

  VIPER

  ANGEL

  An Affair In Paris

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  Sex Addict

  Shiver

  Wrapped Up in You

  All I Want for Christmas…Is My Sister’s Boyfriend

  Classified Information

  CALL SIGNS

  Lieutenant Grant “Panther” Hughes

  Stealthy, proud, and ferocious in the air. Also given the name due to his midnight-black hair.

  Lieutenant Mateo “Solo” Morgan

  Much like Han Solo, he’s gutsy but tends to think only about himself.

  Lieutenant Pete “Gucci” Carter

  Received his call sign after devouring too many shots the night before his first day of officer training and upchucking into a woman’s Gucci handbag.

  Lieutenant Billy “Houdini” Wasowski

  Can get in and out of anything—trouble, women’s pants, a bad situation in the sky…

  Lieutenant Tia “Whiplash” Castaneda

  Call sign given by her fellow trainees after several experienced extreme whiplash doing a double take in her direction.

  Lieutenant Paul “Utah” Weinberger

  Made everyone’s life in officer training a living hell.

  U.T.A.H. = UpTight AssHole

  Lieutenant Abcde “Alphabet” Szabelska

  On the first day of officer training, no one could pronounce his name, so everyone called him “Alphabet.” It stuck.

  Lieutenant Darrel “Phantom” Anderson

  Has a tendency to vanish when he’s needed.

  Commander Victor “Midnight” Levy

  Was found passed out on a beach with a stripper named Midnight. To this day he denies it.

  Commander Pamela “Ketchup” Heinz

  Turning up for training with a last name like Heinz was asking for it.

  Captain Franklin “Razor” Hughes

  Known for pulling the sharpest turns and maneuvers in combat training.

  1 Grant Hughes

  IT WAS ONE of those hot summer nights, the ones
best spent lying on the beach, a cold beer in hand, staring up at the jets flying overhead, the roar of their engines shaking the sky. That was where I should’ve been. It was the smart decision, the obvious choice between being responsible and where I was headed now.

  Fuck it. The next ten weeks would have me on my best behavior, and if I needed a night off to get through it, then I’d take it.

  A bead of sweat trailed down my neck from beneath the suffocating heat of my helmet as I waited for the traffic light to change. The last of the sun was setting behind me, leaving the sky overhead a bruise of purples and blues, and as the light flipped to green, I gunned the engine and took off toward the dark.

  Minutes later, I smoothly guided my Ducati 848 into the parking lot of the unnamed bar—God, that was sketchy as hell—and then cut the engine. There was no hesitation as I climbed off the back of my bike, removed my helmet, and clipped it to the back of the seat. Then I shrugged out of my leather jacket, feeling relief as a gust of warm wind cooled my bare skin and the sweat on my brow. As the music playing inside filtered out through the front door opening and closing, a low purr of anticipation filled my gut. It’d been too long, and I was starving.

  As I walked inside, my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. It looked like any bar you’d find anywhere in the U.S.: cracked vinyl booths along the perimeter, an old jukebox near the fully stocked bar with TVs playing a whole lot of no one’s watching. For a Sunday, it wasn’t too packed, but that didn’t much matter considering I was here for a sure thing. Another quick sweep of the room told me he hadn’t arrived yet, so I made my way to the bar, conscious of the gazes my way, sizing me up.

  “I’ll have a Heineken,” I told the bartender, resting my elbow on the bar top and dropping my jacket onto the counter. Sitting down would invite visitors, and my night was set.

  When the bartender popped the top and pushed the bottle my way, I took a long swig of the ice-cold beer and glanced up at the one television not playing a sports channel. The local news was on, running a feature on the air show from the weekend, and as I watched the planes showing off maneuvers, I felt a pair of eyes watching me.

  I glanced at the clock behind the bar, choosing to ignore whoever it was making my skin heat, and silently cursed out my now late date. The last thing I needed was to be standing here solo, looking like I wanted someone to approach. That wasn’t me; I wasn’t the kind to troll a bar looking for a good time. I was more into having a plan and executing it. No surprises that way. No way for things to blow up in my face.

  Keeping that thought in mind, I continued to pay extra-close attention to the F/A-18 Hornet aircraft executing barrel rolls across the television screen. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of giving off a don’t come near me vibe, but a few minutes later someone stepped up alongside me, invading my personal space in a way that indicated he wasn’t merely interested in the empty seat beside me.

  Dammit, this was the last thing I needed.

  “Hey there, this seat taken?”

  The cocksure tone of the man who’d just delivered that very unoriginal line told me he wasn’t worried in the least that I’d turn him down. In fact, before I said anything, I could feel the guy sliding into the seat beside me, his body heat warming the bare skin of my arm.

  I ground my back molars together and slowly turned in the direction of my new companion, and as I prepared to give my “thanks, but no thanks” speech, my words got caught somewhere in the back of my throat.

  Situated as we were, I found myself looking down into a pair of eyes the color of smooth, expensive whiskey, lined with lashes so thick it looked as though he had taken a kohl liner to them. His hair was buzzcut short and brown, his skin bronzed like some kind of sun god, and when I continued to stand there like some kind of statue, a brilliant white smile crept across a pouty set of lips.

  Hell, this guy was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen in my life—the problem was, he knew it.

  “I’m gonna take that as a no.” Those stunning eyes boldly swept over my body, from my black t-shirt to my jeans, and when they finally landed back on my face, he winked. “Lucky me.”

  Arrogant, bold, and cocky. The guy staring back at me was everything I steered clear of when it came to a quick hookup. I needed reliable, trustworthy, and discreet.

  Looking away, I took another sip of my beer. “Sit wherever you like.”

  “Ahh. I see.”

  When he didn’t add anything to that, I took the bait. “See what?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, that cocky half-smile still on his face, the guy shrugged. “Two theories. You’re either into playing hard to get, or…”

  Though every instinct told me not to engage, I looked his way. When his eyes locked on mine, I realized my mistake. “Or?”

  “Or you’re the aggressor.”

  “The what?”

  “The guy who goes after what he wants, not the one being pursued.”

  I snorted and went back to pretending to watch the news, but then the guy leaned in, invading my space once again.

  “So? Which is it?”

  “Maybe it’s neither.”

  “Or maybe you’re lying.” He dropped his voice down low. “Want me to go back to the end of the bar?”

  I couldn’t help the chuckle that left my throat, because as unwanted as the attention was, you almost had to give it up for the guy’s persistence. If I wasn’t waiting for someone, I may have even found him charming.

  “Another,” I said to the bartender, holding up my empty bottle. Then I glanced over my shoulder, looking once again for the familiar man I was here for, but when he still hadn’t arrived, I turned my body so I casually faced the man practically begging for my attention.

  This time, I let my gaze roam over him, taking in the tight fit of his dark jeans and the way the olive-green t-shirt he wore was practically a second skin over his muscled build. He was devastating in that heartbreaker-but-you’ll-love-every-second-of-it way, and damn if my cock didn’t take notice.

  “Oh please, feel free. Should I stand up?” He went to stand, but I shot my hand out, pushing against his chest so he stayed right where he was. His body beneath my fingertips was nothing but hard muscle, and I licked my lips before I could stop myself. Fuck, he was tempting.

  When the bartender pushed another beer my way, I jerked my hand back and reached for the bottle.

  “You don’t say much, do you?”

  “Not here to talk.”

  “No?” He got to his feet this time, kicking the stool away. “I can get on board with that.”

  I sighed, half annoyed and half turned on. I knew which side would win in the end. “Look, I appreciate the attention, but I’ve got plans and they’re not with you.”

  The guy grabbed his chest like he’d been shot. “Ouch. Brutal.”

  “Better not to waste your time.”

  “Ah-huh. So where’s your date?”

  My jaw twitched. “Late.”

  “Sounds like that’s more of a waste of time to me. I’d never make you wait.” He leaned in, his words practically a whisper. “I’d come every time you told me to.”

  Shiiit. I swallowed hard, my cock kicking up a protest against my stubborn refusal. It would be so easy to give in. To grab the back of his head, force him to his knees, and shut that mouth of his. I could feel my resolve crumbling as I breathed in his heady cologne, and I was two seconds away from throwing caution to the wind when I looked up and saw the man I’d been waiting for entering the bar.

  “You make an enticing offer,” I said, and when I pulled away, I smirked. “But my date just walked in.” I tossed a couple of bills on the bar top and grabbed my jacket, but before I walked away, the guy reached for my arm.

  “Just my luck.” For some reason, there was still a grin playing on his lips, like somehow he still thought he’d have me. “By the way, you never told me your name.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I shot him a wink, and as I walked off, called over
my shoulder, “You have a good night.”

  2 Mateo Morgan

  THAT GUY WAS all wrong for Mr. Smooth over there. He was too…bland, like one of those guys you just knew would be the most boring lay of your life.

  After tossing back the last of my beer, I motioned for another and watched the happy couple take up a spot in one of the back corner booths and proceed to make what looked like awkward small talk. Not sure why they bothered when it was clear it was all a hookup, but maybe one or both needed the extra liquid courage.

  Again, I found my eyes roaming over the tall, dark-haired drink of water who’d blown me off even though it’d been obvious he hadn’t wanted to. One of those do-it-out-of-obligation types, though it certainly didn’t seem like he was getting the better end of the deal with those standards.