Even if We Last (Huntley Square #3)

Prologue

If one more smug jerk asked where my pink heels or Dreamhouse were, I was going to start throwing punches. I cut a glare in the direction of the next catcall, already knowing it was for me, since I was the only woman here, and felt a sliver of satisfaction when the sound immediately stopped.

I hadn’t survived years of creeps thinking they could touch me because I was a female in a predominantly male profession, just to be objectified now—here.

I hadn’t fought my way to this position, only to be viewed as less than.

I hadn’t endured a Marine drill instructor father and four older brothers, who’d ceaselessly brawled with each other and me, just to have more than a dozen men mock me now.

Granted, my brothers had all laughed when I’d first told them I’d enlisted in the Navy.

The laughs when I’d told them I’d been accepted into BUD/S—the Navy’s extremely challenging training program for prospective SEALS—had been just as loud and equally filled with pity.

Even my dad had told me to gracefully leave before the school began because I wouldn’t make it through. No question.

I was sure the memory of his words and their laughter had kept me going until I became the first female SEAL.

But the laughs were still following me. Only this time, it was from men I was expected to trust with my life as we served on elite teams. Then again, if my brothers had been here, they would’ve been leading the taunts.

Overprotective big brothers they were not.

But they’d prepared me for this.

Taking the corner the lieutenant had pointed out earlier, I drew in a steeling breath when I saw my new team—a cluster of men teasing each other as they relaxed or worked out—and continued forward.

But then six pairs of eyes snapped my way, as if they all sensed someone was approaching, and their voices abruptly died.

I gritted my teeth at the feel of their stunned, confused, and appreciative looks as I closed the distance, but kept my expression neutral as I waited for their reactions.

And then it happened.

“Where’s the beach, Barbie?”

“Think you’re lost, Blondie.”

My stare briefly flashed toward the taunts to see two guys standing from their chairs, both wearing smirks I knew well. Underestimating. Lascivious.

I’d fix that.

I knew razzing and nicknames were all part of military life. Really, I did. But in the time I’d been in, I’d come to learn the same didn’t apply to me. This was dismissive and belittling, and usually preceded being cornered for something I refused to give them.

“You’re Monroe?” a third asked when I dropped my bag and stopped just outside their group, his voice low and rough and filled with irritation that bordered on animosity.

I glanced at his name—Briggs—and stood a little straighter when I realized the man glaring at me with so much contempt was my new team leader.

“Yes, sir.”

He held my stare a few seconds longer before giving a subtle nod and going back to the papers in front of him.

No introductions. No explaining what I needed to do now that I was finally there. No telling me where to put my things. No anything.

“Wait,” the Blondie commenter began, the word a hushed laugh as it left him. “This . . . this isn’t . . . she isn’t—she’s a girl.”

“Observant,” I muttered dryly.

“No offense,” he continued as he lifted a hand, sounding like I should absolutely take offense.

“But—” He worked his jaw before leaning closer to Briggs and lowering his voice, though I could still hear him clearly.

“How did she get here? Girls aren’t SEALs for a reason.

We can’t be expected to be okay with this. She’s a liability.”

“A gorgeous liability,” one of the remaining guys mumbled under his breath, still loud enough for me to hear.

My stare slanted his way and narrowed when I found him boldly smiling at me, never once stopping from where he was lifting weights. He winked in return, but the awkward action looked more like a nervous tic.

I drew in a slow, calming breath, but held back every one of my thoughts.

After all, this wasn’t anything new. At least Tic looked harmless. You know . . . outside of the fact that he was one of the most lethal people on the planet.

“Gorgeous or not, there’s no way she made it through BUD/S,” the guy who’d called me Barbie added, sounding insulted that a woman could be at the same level as them.

And, in some ways, I knew I wasn’t. I knew they were stronger and faster because they were men.

I’d accepted that long ago during daily fights and races against my brothers.

I’d seen it every day of BUD/S. But I’d never been anywhere near last, and I’d never once come close to giving up or failing out.

“Unless she killed the SEAL wearing the fatigues that fit her,” Briggs ground out, his attention drifting between Blondie and Barbie, “I’d say she earned her place here.”

Blondie looked like he might argue, but eventually shared a dissatisfied look with Barbie before dropping into his chair with a bitter huff.

Tic just continued smiling at me as he pumped out rep after rep. With another one of those twitch-like winks, he clumsily added, “She can earn—” He faltered mid-rep. “There’s a—I have a place for her.”

I somehow managed to hold back an eye roll when he held out an arm, hex dumbbell and all, to his side. Definitely harmless.

Most of the guys snorted at the embarrassing attempt at hitting on me. Briggs uttered a definitive, “No.”

Expecting it to continue, I cut my attention to the final two, who had watched the entire conversation play out with amusement pouring from them. But the giant Viking of a man closest to me just dipped his head in what I could only assume was approval for the way I’d kept my composure.

Something else I could thank my dad and brothers for. Defending myself with pointless arguments only made me look weaker, and I refused to look weak in front of anyone.

My mom didn’t count.

The guy standing beside the Viking leaned forward and stretched out a tattooed arm. “Thatcher. Everyone calls me Thatch.”

“Monroe,” I unnecessarily told him as I shook his hand.

A mischievous look settled over his face as he glanced between me and the obnoxious duo. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say not like Marilyn?”

“Not at all,” I confirmed.

“Noted,” he said with a smile that grew considerably wider just as the Viking released a wary sigh and muttered, “Here we go.”

“Y’all shouldn’t have,” a new man said from behind me with a voice that was as deep as it was smooth. His drawl was filled with barely-leashed amusement when he continued. “It isn’t even my birthday yet.”

I bristled at the implication but kept my stare straight ahead.

“Ma’am,” he continued in a low, murmured tone that said he knew exactly how to use that voice for his gain—unlike poor Tic. “Now, who are—” His words cut off and his expression fell when I broke, allowing my head to snap in his direction.

And I hated that I felt my features do the same.

Fall.

It wasn’t just that he was unreasonably handsome; I’d grown up around plenty of attractive guys, thanks to my brothers and the Navy.

No, it was something in the flare of the mint green eyes locked on me, making my heart flutter and my stomach drop.

It was something about the way his head tilted just slightly, almost as if he was trying to remember where he knew me from, making me want to reach out and smooth the furrow of his brow.

But that wasn’t something I could allow myself, and I was sure I’d never seen him before.

I would’ve remembered him. I would’ve remembered this feeling.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up and teasing me with a dimple. But the way he asked then wasn’t the same way he’d originally started asking.

Before, it’d been obnoxious teasing. Now, it was as if he needed to know.

And I needed to look away from him.

My mouth pulled into a frown as my dad’s harsh voice floated through my mind.

“The opposite sex is a distraction. Feelings are a distraction. Wanting someone is a distraction. Relationships are a distraction.”

Between team members? Absolutely not. Not only would it make both of us liabilities—as Blondie had called me earlier—because we’d be more worried about the other than the mission, but there was always the risk that one of us wouldn’t make it.

I forced my stare away just as Briggs answered, “She’s our new eighth,” without ever looking up. “And I’d stop if I were you.”

The new guy playfully hushed Briggs, easily slipping back into the same, insufferable tone from when he’d walked up. “Currently talking to an angel.”

“Don’t call me that.” The words snapped from me as my narrowed stare all too willingly returned to the final member of the team.

“Okay, Princess,” he said, unfazed.

“I’ll kill you.”

A wolfish grin shaped his lips at my threat, showing deep dimples that had my stomach fluttering and my hand twitching, eager to smack him. “Keep saying things like that, and I’ll think you’re waiting for me to get down on one knee.”

“Gray,” Briggs said in warning, but the man in front of me—Gray—just smiled wider.

“Not that you’d be the first,” he continued, stepping close enough that there was less than a foot between us, made even more apparent by the palpable tension begging me to take a step of my own. “But I have a feeling you’d be the one I followed through for.”

“Get any closer,” I began, my teeth clenched as I forced myself to hold my ground, “and I’ll have you on your back before you can take another breath.”

Amusement and intrigue sparked in his eyes. “Such a violent princess,” he muttered with a nod, as if satisfied with the nickname I had every intention of removing from his vocabulary, before altering it to: “Princess Peach.”

My jaw ached with how forcefully I ground it.

Before I could decide between threatening him again—because I’d apparently lost that composure I’d just been so proud of—punching his perfect smile, or remaining silent, he took a step away, his gaze darting over me. “Just say when.”

“I won’t warn you before I take you down,” I assured him.

“Oh, I’m counting on that.” Gray’s smile shifted into something knowing, more significant, and far too confident. “But I meant getting down on one knee.”

“That’ll never happen.”

One side of his face scrunched up in doubt, somehow making him even more attractive. “Marrying you?” Gray winked as he backed up toward the Viking and Thatch. “I’ll take that bet, Princess.”