As someone who saw their mom poorly treated by wealthy people, I used to despise them. My father died when I was five, leaving her to raise me on her own. They'd been high school sweethearts and married young. With no education or job experience, she ended up cleaning houses to make a living.
She was damn good at her job, but that didn't mean the families who hired her ever saw her as a real person. In their eyes, she was a convenience-a disposable one, at that. If something was broken, blame the maid. Can't find a piece of jewelry? Blame the maid. It didn't matter whether she had done anything wrong, or that it was usually their spoiled kid at fault. The bottom line was: she was replaceable and her wealthy employers never had a problem letting her go. Watching her accept their mistreatment, year after year, left me with a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder.
Needless to say, I wanted better for my mom, and myself. My grades in high school were good, but not great since I'd juggled school, sports, and a part-time job to help lessen the load. With a full ride scholarship out of the question, college wasn't an option for me. I finally found my way out when I joined the Navy. It broke my mom's heart when I enlisted. She was scared to death of losing me too, but she accepted it like she did everything else in her life: with grace. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I didn't need much to maintain my bachelor lifestyle and would be able to send money to her every month.
If I was going to dedicate my life to the military, I was determined to be the best of the best. Before I joined, I told the Navy recruiter I wanted to take the SEAL Challenge. It guaranteed me the opportunity to become a candidate and I wasn't about to waste my chance when my time came.
Oddly enough, it was during BUD/S when I moved past my prejudice against the wealthy. I didn't have a choice when Brody Slater blew all my preconceived notions out of the water.
Everyone knew his story since the exploits landing him in the military were in the newspapers. He was the spoiled rich kid whose older brother used their wealth to bail him out of yet another mess when he was a junior in college. Except, that time, he'd royally screwed up by hacking into a government computer system and the prosecutor wanted to make an example out of him. The best his brother's lawyers could do was get them to agree to military enlistment instead of prison. How he managed to qualify for SEAL training was a mystery to me since one of the requirements was having a clean record. Sometimes they granted a waiver, which I assumed meant his brother pulled strings for him-again. Though, it didn't really matter. No one could help him through the training and I didn't think he had the mental toughness to make it.
When we were paired together as swim buddies on day one, I was pissed right the hell off. I knew I had what it took to be a damn good SEAL, but that didn't mean I wanted to be saddled with Brody.
The number one rule was to never leave your buddy behind and having him as my buddy was bound to be a major liability. When I first saw him, there was no doubt in my mind he would be one of many to ring the bell and signal their defeat. Not only was I going to have to make sure I never rang that damn bell, I would need to stand between him and it anytime he was ready to call it quits.
Quickly, I realized he wanted this as badly as I did and I was never so happy to be proved wrong in my life. Brody was the one who figured out the trick that helped us both survive. We got four meals a day, one every six hours. After our first day, Brody started to measure our time in meals. We pushed hard with one goal in mind: making it to the next meal. After a couple days, we were both operating on auto-pilot, focused on each six-hour block of time, pushing hard until we made it through the final day. He more than earned my respect and blew my misconceptions out of the water.
His skills on the keyboard had saved our asses on more than one mission-something I later realized the Navy had counted on when they gave him the chance to become a SEAL. I could ask Brody for anything and there was no doubt in my mind he'd either get me what I needed or die trying.
"You know you're going to owe me an explanation later, right?" Brody asked, drawing my attention back to the problem at hand.
"I know."
I heard the sound of typing in the background. "Found someone. I'm sending you contact information now."
"Thanks."
"You need me to meet you in Atlanta?" he asked.
I had no idea what was going on with Serena, but I knew what it took for Brody to make that offer. I didn't want him to leave Vegas unless it was absolutely necessary. "Hold tight for now. I'll let you know once I get there."
"Does Damian know you're heading out?"
"Not yet," I answered. "I'll talk to him after Serena has what she needs. I'll let you know more once I know the plan."
As soon as I hung up, Brody's text was waiting for me. I forwarded it to Serena.
Me: Call this guy ASAP. He'll help you until I can get there.
Serena: Got it.
Me: WTF is going on?
Serena: Not sure it's safe to text. Tell you when I see you.
Me: I'm overseas. It will take me about 24 hours to get there.
I waited a few minutes, but there was no reply. I figured she had either turned her phone off or was giving the guy a call. With that taken care of, I needed to talk to my boss-Brody's big brother, Damian.
Even though Brody and I were as close as brothers, six years passed before I met Damian. At the time, I was flat on my back in a naval hospital with Brody in the bed next to me. Our last mission had been fucked up beyond belief. Brody had been riding shotgun when we were hit by an IED. I'd been in the back of the humvee and was thrown clear of the wreckage. By the time I made it back to my team, three of our teammates were dead and Brody was hanging on by a thread. We were less than half a mile from our extraction point and I managed to carry him to the helo before taking a round to the knee as I was climbing on board.
When I awoke in the hospital, my injuries weren't as bad as Brody's, but we both knew we were going to be found unfit for duty. Brody's doctors had already sent a summary of his condition and records over to the nearest designated medical treatment facility. Mine were on their way since I was going to undergo knee replacement surgery. Damn bullet to the knee completely fucked it up and blew my chances to stay with the teams.
Eventually, Damian wanted to take his brother home and get him the best medical care possible, but Brody wasn't willing to leave without me. Once he told his brother I'd saved his life, Damian was more than willing to smooth the way for me to be discharged at the same time. The next few months were eye-opening for me. I had an up close and personal view into the lives of the rich and famous.
Damian attracted attention wherever he went. He liked to take chances and risked a decent amount of the family fortune to build a casino on the strip in Las Vegas a few years back. The gamble paid off when the resort became wildly popular, but it put them in the public eye more than Brody wanted. It wasn't a problem when he was rarely home, but now he just wanted to be left alone while he struggled with his rehabilitation and learned how to deal with people's reactions to the scars on his face.
People wanted what the Slaters had and being accessible meant Damian was the one in the crosshairs. It didn't help that Brody had become a paranoid motherfucker. The security around Damian was good-the best money could buy. But Brody knew there were men who were trained better, those who would put his life before theirs. Men who had served their country with a blind loyalty that was hard to find. And he wanted the best for his brother.
When my recovery was complete and I started looking for a job, Brody asked his brother to hire me as the head of his personal security. He didn't have to push hard to get him to say yes and with the salary Damian offered, it was a no-brainer for me to accept. A strange path brought me to where I was today: a casino in Monte Carlo, dressed in a tux, while Damian played a high-stakes game of poker for more money than I made in a year-which was a hell of a lot of money.
Heading over to the table, I turned my attention to each of the players before focusing on my boss. His pile of chips had steadily grown over the last couple hours. I had enough experience watching him play over the last year to know it wasn't going to be much longer before he'd walk away from the game victorious. I motioned to the two guards traveling with us, preparing them to be ready to leave soon, before moving to stand silently behind him. I waited until the current hand was finished before tapping him on the shoulder-our signal there was a problem that couldn't wait.
Damian leaned back in his chair, tilting his head so I could whisper in his ear. "I have a personal emergency and need to head back to the States."