Read Hot SEALs: SEAL's Ultimate Challenge for Free Online

the ground. “Get out of the car and man up. You’ve been walking around for the past month like a dead man.”
    “I might as well be dead,” he muttered, staring at the tops of his shoes.
    “Bullshit. Tonight, we begin the reincarnation of Cory Nipton. On your feet, soldier.”
    Reaper glared into her blue eyes, hating her pretty face and the cleavage he could see so well with her leaning over him. Hated that, at that moment, he wanted to punch her in the face as much as he wanted to kiss her until she gasped for breath. “I’m not a soldier.”
    “Even more reason for you to prove you’re a man. Let’s go.” She turned and marched into the building, her petite body incongruous with her military bearing.
    He had two choices. Sit in the hot vehicle or follow her into the range. Telling himself he’d rather wait where the space was air-conditioned, he got out, locked the Jeep, and entered the indoor range.
    Inside the scent of cleaning oil and gunpowder filled his nostrils and bought on such a heavy feeling of nostalgia, he almost turned and walked back out. God, he missed his team. He missed training with them and missed going out on missions with them. For the first month, he worried about who was covering Tuck’s six and what Big Bird, Fish, Gator, and Nacho were up to. Had they gone back into the hills to find the Taliban leader they’d sought when they’d walked into the trap where Reaper had tripped the explosion?
    He had refused to Skype with his friends. Especially Tuck. Reaper was afraid he’d break down when he saw Tuck, still in the desert, still a part of the team. But damn, maybe it was time he did. Tuck and the other members of his team were like brothers. Hell, they were closer than brothers. They’d been to hell and back together. That counted more than blood.
    When he got back to his room, he’d power up the laptop O’Connell had given him and contact Tuck. Over a month had passed. He could do it. Should do it. He needed to know how they were.
    Leigha stood at the counter, turning a pistol over in her hand. “Yes, this one will do for me.”
    “What about him?” the man behind the counter asked.
    “You’ll have to ask him?” Leigha turned to Reaper. “Nine millimeter Berretta or an HK 40 like I have?”
    “Neither. I’ll just watch.”
    “Wrong.” Leigha turned to the man. “Nine millimeter Berretta and forty rounds.”
    Irritation at her attitude forced Reaper forward. “Sig-Sauer P226.”
    “Now you’re talking. We just got two in. Brand new.” He turned to a locked cabinet behind him and extracted the nine-millimeter handgun. “It’ll be perfect for you because of the ambidextrous magazine release and fifteen-round capacity. Have to reload less often.”
    “I know its capabilities,” Reaper cut in. He’d carried one on him into hostile territory along with his M4A1 with the SOPMOD upgrade. Whatever he wanted, he’d gotten.
    The man laid the weapon on the counter, rather than handing it to Reaper.
    Reaper clenched his teeth and reached for the grip, his left hand fumbling, before he finally raised it and held it in his palm. The weapon felt odd in his left hand. But strangely familiar. He and his teammates had naturally practiced firing with their dominant hands, as well as their non-dominant hands. He’d done all right. Not nearly as accurate as he’d been with his right hand.
    Leigha and Reaper signed forms, were issued eye and ear protection, and assigned booth numbers next to each other. They gathered targets, weapons and the ammunition, and then passed through a door into the large indoor range. Several men and one woman occupied booths and were firing downrange.
    Once in their booths, Leigh and Reaper slipped on their eye and ear protection. The glasses were scuffed and difficult to see through. The fact frustrated Reaper who was used to only the best equipment. But then it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t shoot worth a crap anyway.
    Loading bullets into the