by Susan Stoker
He leaned back, "Did that hurt?"
She cleared her throat, "A bit."
"Why? I didn't suck that hard."
"Hawk..." She tucked her hair behind her ears, she'd purposely left it down for him, it was his favorite. She looked into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."
The shock on his face was immediate and he didn't say anything for a long time. So long in fact that she worried about this quiet.
She locked eyes with him, but slowly laid back into her pillow, bare as the day she was born. She lay her hand on her belly, which was still mainly flat, but recently she'd noticed a bit of a thickening around her waist, which was what had prompted her to get a test kit in town yesterday. She'd taken the test after coming home from the pharmacy, then tucked the test into her bedside drawer.
His eyes never left hers, but his left hand softly rested on her belly, his fingers laying across hers and squeezing. His eyes glistened as moisture gathered then he leaned down and kissed her.
Lifting his head, he looked intently into her eyes.
"I'm speechless." His fingers squeezed hers again. "But I couldn't be happier. We never talked about kids. Are you happy, Luna?"
A sob burst from her chest, partly because she'd been so nervous about this. Partly because she was. "I'm thrilled, Hawk. I'm one-thousand percent thrilled."
He kissed her again, softly this time, "I am, too."
He moved down and kissed each of her nipples, softly this time, then continued leaving a trail of kisses down her torso and to her belly and the beautiful baby they'd created now growing there. He lavished kisses on their baby, actually her belly, but the sentiment was the same.
Then, he looked up and said, "Our next project in our sweet little farmhouse is to fix up a baby's room. After all, Hawk's Haven is gaining a little chick."
* * *
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The Betrayal
Rebecca Sharp
1
Ace
An oath was everything to a man like me.
To serve. To protect.
Words like honor, loyalty, and valor were inked like invisible tattoos into my blood and brain. But in spite of their strength, it was the scars of loss—of failure that came along with them that sealed my resignation as Senior Chief Petty Officer from the Navy Special Warfare Development Group. I’d always be grateful and honored for my place on SEAL Team Six, but without my team, there was no place for me.
There were days in life when you just knew something was going to happen that would change it forever. I’d had a few of them.
The first was the day that made my team a legend.
We’d gotten intel on the location of an insurgent ISIS leader who’d been raiding and terrorizing local towns in Afghanistan. That morning, the sun had been bright red, like a bleed across the horizon as it rose. And I just knew we were finally going to get him.
We did.
It changed everything, not just for my team, but for our mission, our purpose, and for the war.
A month later, I had the same feeling in my gut. Well, not the exact same. It felt like the opposite side of the same coin. And that was the day we’d been ambushed by a group of militants looking for retribution.
Betrayed by one of our local informants in the area, we hadn’t had a shot. The only reason I survived was because I saw a goat slip out from its pen at the house next to the one where we stayed. I knew how important it was to the family, so I was up before the rest and chasing after it.
And that was it.
Ten minutes later, the house was ambushed. My team killed. And the building set on fire.
That was almost five years ago.
Serving in the military was behind me, but not the morals it instilled. Nor the memories. I glanced in the mirror, seeing the tattoos honoring my fallen brothers pop against the skin of my chest.
Now, I had my own successful private security firm and worked with a brother of a different kind—my real one.
Dex was younger than me by two years but smarter than me by light years, which was why he’d been buried in the highest, most top-secret levels of the military. Passed off—or fought over—by each agency, he lived behind that computer screen, until one day the monsters on the other side—and the casualties—became all too real.
And in a blink, I’d gone from a one-man elite security operation to having a team and a business and a purpose.
But today brought me back to those gut-gripping days because this morning, my gut knocked me down a rung with the weight of an impending something. This time, it wasn’t clear which side of the coin was going to fall face-up—good or bad—until my phone rang.
“Ace, it’s Zeke.” Zeke Williams’ usually collected voice wavered like a ship over turbulent syllables as soon as I answered my cell. “Addy’s in trouble.”
Zeke had become a good friend since I’d opened up Covington Security just outside of Carmel Cove. The small, seaside tourist town in California was a perfect location for our exclusive services since the scenic beaches, golf, and wineries made it a destination for the wealthy—many of whom requested our elite and discreet protective and investigative services. But it was also where we were from, which meant we could still do good for the good people in town who were like family.
“What happened?” I clipped.
Addy was Addison Williams, Zeke’s twin sister. They, along with their youngest sibling, Eve, had all grown up in Carmel, but Zeke and Addison were a good five years younger than me, so I’d didn’t really know them all too well growing up. Now, I knew Zeke—a good man, through and through. I’d seen Eve a couple of times at the local coffee shop, Ocean Roasters, after she was done with school, but I hadn’t seen Addison... only heard of her.
It was no secret around town that the older Williams’ girl, determined to do good in the big city, had gone and fallen in love with its prince. Mitch Arnell was young, handsome, and had been single until Addison crossed his path. Mayor falls for charity aide. If San Francisco had its own version of a royal fuckin’ fairy tale, it was theirs.
“She called me in a panic. Found something on Arnell’s computer—I think she’s in danger.” The tenor of his voice lacked its normal control.
“What? Woah, slow down,” I cursed with a low rumble, wiping my hand over my mouth.
“There is no slowing down,” he yelled. “I need you to have Dex trace her phone and we need to get to her, trust me.”
Normally, I didn’t act on intel without having all of it. But, once again, my gut jumped in and demanded action.
“I’ll get him on it. What did she find?” I didn’t like being ruled by emotions, so I searched for as many facts as he could give me.
“She thinks she found something that links him to human trafficking—women from their houses—”
“Jesus. Fuck.” Human trafficking was one hell of a serious accusation. Even more so when it came against the mayor of San Francisco.
“Women from the charity who’ve gone missing,” he clarified, and my stomach knotted into stone.
If there was one thing that Arnell was known for outside of his mayor position and the burgeoning hope he’d run for the Senate, it was the Arnell Foundation—the charity he and Addison ran together. It featured a collection of safe houses throughout the city that provided women recovering from addiction or abuse a place to stay and resources to help them get back on their feet. And from the news and everything Zeke told me about it, its phenomenal success has mostly to do with his sister’s efforts.
And now I saw it was also the perfect set-up for a twisted piece of shit to take advantage of women who came
to the program with nothing and no one. To kidnap the ones who would sell the best, and pass it off like they’d relapsed or gone back to their former life.
“Evil motherfucking genius,” I bit out, hating more than anything the kind of person who took advantage of someone at their lowest—someone trying to turn their life around.
“Addy’s not a good liar, and Arnell is too damn smart to not realize something’s up,” he went on in a blind panic.
Zeke might not be the classically trained kind of muscle I was used to working around, but I knew when an ordinary man turned deadly, and it was the moment when one of his loved ones was threatened.
Grabbing my gun, I shoved it in my waistband at the small of my back and stalked down the hall of our new, state-of-the-art headquarters to the room full of computers and screens that my brother claimed as his own.
“Dex. Need you to run a trace on a number,” I clipped, forgoing any greeting, and rattled off Addison’s number as Zeke fed it to me from the other end of the line. “Keep me updated,” I ordered and left the room, heading for the exit.
“Zeke, where are you?” I closed the door on my blacked-out Range Rover and jammed my finger on the start button.
“On the highway. Breaking laws.” I heard his horn blare. “We have to get there in time.”
My brow screwed tight, ignoring the slight screech of the tires as my SUV picked up speed down the long drive. “Isn’t there—”
“Yeah,” he broke in. “They have the charity gala tonight.” He paused, laughing coldly. “What a motherfucker... raising money for their own charity that’s a front for finding and selling women.”
I kept my mouth shut, afraid if I opened it to let out all the profanities needed to describe the kind of person who did that, I’d never stop.
“Did she say how?” I asked instead, dropping my foot to the floor and letting the engine enhancements I’d had done eat up the fuel and miles between Carmel and San Francisco.
“No. No time,” he replied. “He showed up. I could hear the skepticism in his voice, wondering why she was on the phone with me when they needed to leave.”
My lip curled. “Controlling much...”
“I always thought he was too good,” he said and then clarified. “Not good enough for Addy, but too fucking good to be true.”
I grunted and pulled my phone from my face, seeing a message from my brother. “Hold on.” I tapped open the information, a blue dot appearing on a mapped location. “Dex found them.”
“Where?”
“One sec.” My brow creased. “What the hell...” The dot appeared on the highway except it wasn’t moving.
“Ace, where the fuck is—”
“They’re under an overpass,” I broke in, realizing why the dot looked stopped on the highway—because they were underneath it. “Going to have Dex send you directions because they’re not at an address; they’ve stopped under an overpass on the highway.”
And that wasn’t fucking good.
“Jesus Christ, Ace. This is bad, is it?” he rasped, low and painful. “Gala starts in ten. They should’ve arrived by now.”
My jaw tensed to the point of breaking.
There were only a few reasons someone pulled under an overpass at this time of night when they were supposed to be somewhere else. Either they were there for a quick fuck or something was going horribly wrong.
And judging from the kind of information she’d given Zeke—the kind that would ruin not only Arnell’s mayoral career and his run for Senate, but his whole fucking life—this fell into the horribly wrong category.
“We’ll get to her,” I told my friend, determination threading through all the cracks in my chest. “I’m ten minutes out. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
And that was the first promise I made over the course of the next several days that I’d trade my own life to keep.
2
Ace
The first thing I saw was the smoke. So dark, it put black holes in the already night sky, blotting out the dim light from the highway above it.
I told Zeke ten minutes, and I’d made it in eight. Thank fuck I was the first one here. Zeke’s old Chevy was no match for the speed of my Range Rover. Plus, I’d had a couple minutes head start since Covington headquarters was slightly north of Carmel. If it hadn’t been me here, who the hell knew what kind of dangerous stunt my friend would’ve pulled to try and save his sister.
I was familiar with fire. I was familiar with burning.
I was familiar with everything about this situation, the difference this time was that the flame wasn’t started by terrorists, but by a homegrown root of evil.
Tires skidded on the dirt, kicking up a cloud of fear that followed as I spun my car sideways and threw it in park.
Two seconds and I was out the door, assessing the situation.
The black limo was the source of the flames with a body on the ground next to it. My heart slammed harder, and I took off toward the blaze.
A few more feet and I determined the body was male. Dead. Dressed in black, a gun left by his side.
The driver. The fall guy.
Swearing under my breath, my feet pounded harder against the ground just as a small explosion blew the engine and the front windows of the car out.
“Addison!” I called, covering my mouth with my elbow again as the fumes grew thick.
“Ace!” I heard Zeke behind me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
I had to get to her before I was responsible for saving both of them.
Reaching the car, I yanked on the handle, stumbling back a step when it didn’t fucking budge—and scorched right through my skin.
“Fuck.”
Not missing a beat, I didn’t bother trying it again. It was too damaged—too melted to work. Reaching for my gun, I grabbed the barrel and pulled back, letting the handle fly hard into the back window, a rushed breath of relief bursting from my mouth when the crack of glass ripped through the roar of the flames.
“Stay back!” I yelled to Zeke over the noise. Over and over I hit the window until it shattered, smoke billowing from inside.
Wiping my watering eyes, I blinked and saw her. Dressed in silver and curled on the back seat, unmoving.
A fallen angel.
I glanced toward the front of the car. I didn’t have much time. The flames were going to reach the back and her and then the gas tank, and then we’d all be fucking goners.
Dropping my weapon, I reached over my head and pulled my shirt off my back, draping it over the bottom of the window frame. No way that door was getting opened, and that meant the only way to get her out was through the window.
Tensing, I sucked in a firm breath and shut off the part of my brain that registered pain and turned on the mission overdrive part. Shoving my wide torso through the open space, I cataloged all the spots where burning metal and plastic scorched my bare skin, knowing I’d have to feel their pain later. But when I reached for her, every sensation—the excruciating burn, the feel of skin peeling back and blistering, the sharp puncture of broken glass against my chest and back, scoring deep gashes in my skin—it all faded into nothing.
It all faded at the sight of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Gripping her arms, I lifted her to pull her out.
“Motherfucker,” Zeke swore behind me.
With a strained, low grunt, I managed to get her shoulders through the opening, but I couldn’t go any farther without the glass cutting her.
“Take her,” I ordered over my shoulder.
As soon as Zeke grasped her upper arms, I wedged my hands between her torso and the jagged window edges to shield her. Ignoring the soft dips and swells that rubbed on the backs of my hands as Zeke pulled his sister through the window, I focused on the sharp slices of glass that cut along my wrists and arms. I couldn’t completely protect her from the sharp edges, but I sure as hell tried.
Once her waist was through, I grabbed her knees and, propelling Ze
ke back, we got her out of the flaming car.
“Addy!” Zeke brushed the hair from her face, her head lulling to the side. Underneath the smoke and ash, I could tell her hair was a little lighter than her brother’s, a soft, warm brown.
Grunting, I dropped to my knees, pushing his hands out of the way so I could check her neck for a pulse. Faint but present.
And then I did what I probably shouldn’t have. I tipped forward, placing the side of my face next to her lips, so close I felt their softness graze my skin, waiting to feel the soft rush of her breath. My heart slammed against my chest and I let the sensation rocket through my cells for an instant before I grasped back ahold of my duty—and felt her weak exhale.
“Pulse is weak. Breathing labored,” I informed Zeke with a low voice. “Need to get her on oxygen and clear her lungs, and then check for other injuries.”
My eyes snaked down her limp form. There were a lot of things I wanted to see—curves and valleys I wanted to notice and appreciate—but I didn’t. Instead, I noted all the things I didn’t want to see—the rips through her dress. The bruises on her arms and face. The blood and cuts all along her torso and back, some areas ripped open and then burned from the heat.
I would murder the man who did this.
“Ace, what the hell are we going to do? We need to call an ambulance,” he declared. My arm shot out, catching his wrist as he reached for his phone.
“No ambulance,” I snapped, tightening my hold.
He balked. “What?” And then concerned fury took over. “What the hell do you mean, no ambulance? We just pulled her from a burning car! She’s not even conscious—”
“You called for my help,” I broke in. “Trust me.”
His gaze fumed, and I reached for my own cell, taking only a second to search out the name I was looking for and dial the number.
“Ace, brother. It’s been a long time.”
“Rorik,” I rasped. “I need that favor.” I held Zeke’s gaze while I spoke. “I need a Jane Doe burn victim.”