I've been shanghied into a trip to Vera Cruz, Mexico by my best friend, Sarah. She's having some Botox done, and I've promised her I'll have a little nose job done. But really, I'm going to make sure nothing happens to her. She's an important person in the world.

When I wake up after my surgery, I'm no longer in the doctor's office. I am in a cheap motel with handwritten recovery notes. I can't help the panic that runs through my mind. Sarah is nowhere near me, and I've had a ton of red flags go off about this trip from the beginning.

I have to inform someone that she's here. So, what do I do? In my panic-stricken moment, I headed towards a room where an American-sounding voice was coming from. The man who answers the door is not only drop-dead gorgeous but probably just as dangerous as Sarah's boyfriend.

Grainger

I've been in Vera Cruz, Mexico, collecting intel on the local cartel and its ties to a gang from the Killeen area. However, after having a lively conversation with the guys back home, I hear a knock on my door. Placing my hand on the sidearm I've hidden above the door of this roach coach motel, I answer.

The woman standing outside my door sets off all my red flags with the questions she has, but her body language says she's nervous. Is she a ploy for the cartel who've figured out I'm spying on them? Or is she really a helpless woman who had her passport stolen and needs safe passage back to the States? I'm supposed to head back to Texas in the morning, considering I'm a bit buzzed. But seeing her and hearing her story, I'm sober, and I'm not sticking around to find out what's happened to her friend.

Why am I doing this? Am I jealous of my brothers? I guess maybe I am. But I rationalize it in my mind that I'm a SEAL, and helping people is what SEALs do. Little did we know how much she needed us and how much N.R.T. would need her on our case.

Spécifications