Trisha Telep (ed)

by The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance (epub)

  The fallen leaves rustled and crackled beneath their feet. For early October a lot had fallen. Thankfully there was still some cover with those golds and russets that still clung to the trees.

  She tried to stay focused on his movements so she could keep up better, but her mind kept playing the guessing game.

  Jill had been certain Trace was the one who had attempted to steal SASS. She’d taken great pains to heighten the security of the system. The two attempts to breach that security had generated red flags that only she could see. She had known trouble was close. Then her superior had called her into his office and warned that an enemy had infiltrated their team. Her superior had initiated measures to determine who the infiltrator was.

  But that had been only two weeks ago. Trace had been involved with the project for more than a month. When the second red flag appeared, she had known what she had to do. Destroy the program and disappear until the dust cleared.

  If it ever did.

  She had allowed Trace closer to her than any other human, besides her father. It had to be him.

  Her gaze settled on the broad shoulders in front of her. Had she been that wrong?

  All her life she had been alone, except for her father. Her mother had died when she was an infant. Then, four years ago, her father had passed away, leaving her completely alone.

  Until Trace.

  He tugged more firmly on her hand as he pushed forward even faster.

  The thick underbrush slapped at her jean-clad legs. She had to focus. Trace darted in and around and between trees with amazing speed. The rocky terrain beneath her feet made keeping her balance near impossible. Staying upright was only due to hanging so tightly on to him.

  The helicopter was so close. Had they spotted them? It seemed to be taking the same route. If they were caught she would be kept alive until the necessary information had been extracted.

  But Trace. Her attention moved to his dark head. They would kill him immediately.

  Emotion swelled in her throat.

  She didn’t want him to die. She had been wrong. She’d blamed him when his only purpose had been to keep her safe.

  Her heart pounded. Could she make a deal for his life?

  What the hell was she thinking? These were evil bastards who wanted to steal SASS for their own purposes. She doubted they had any allegiance to any country. They likely wanted to sell the technology to the highest bidder.

  Jill could not let that happen.

  Was she strong enough to endure the torture and not give in to their demands?

  She had no training for such circumstances.

  Trace was her only hope.

  He stopped.

  She slammed into his back.

  When she would have asked what he was doing, he held up a hand for her to keep quiet.

  Then she heard what had him listening so intently.

  Baying.

  Dogs.

  An element of the enemy was on the ground . . . closing in.

  Fear coiled around her throat.

  Trace lunged eastward. She sprinted behind him, barely keeping up with his long, hurried strides.

  The blood roaring in her ears kept her from hearing anything other than the helicopter overhead, the dogs and their movements tearing through the brush.

  Her foot slid off the edge of a rock, twisting her ankle. She winced but didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t have if she’d wanted to. Trace hauled her forward, his movements becoming faster . . . riskier.

  The baying and barking grew louder.

  The enemy was close.

  God, please don’t let them catch us!

  She couldn’t protect herself or SASS . . . she couldn’t protect Trace. Fooling herself was crazy. She wasn’t that strong.

  Yet, Trace was willing to risk his life to protect her.

  Fury erupted inside her. It was time to step up to the plate. Do her part outside the laboratory.

  She forced her feet to move faster. Her weakness was slowing Trace down. Run! Faster! Help him!

  Another sound invaded her thoughts. Rushing . . . almost a roar.

  Water.

  Her heart rocketed into her throat.

  The river.

  They were almost on top of it.

  Trace stopped.

  She tried to stop. Stumbled.

  His arms wrapped around her waist, catching her before she propelled over the cliff. She stared downward at the rushing water far below their precarious position on the mountain’s ledge. A hell of a long way down.

  They had to head north.

  She recaptured her balance and pulled at his hand. “This way,” she urged. Then a voice—

  “Don’t move!”

  Jill’s gaze sought and searched Trace’s face. His expression was clean of emotion. But his eyes told her to stay calm.

  “Move your hands away from your sides! Turn around slowly.”

  Trace moved his hands away from his body as instructed.

  Absolute fear prevented Jill from taking a breath. Stay calm! Stay calm! Trace gave her a slight nod and she followed his movements, raising her hands away from her sides. As he turned slowly to face the enemy, she did the same.

  Two men, both with weapons aimed at them, waited less than ten yards away.

  Dear God. Her heart thundered, making it impossible to think.

  “Toss your weapon,” one of the bastards ordered. “Very carefully or the woman dies.”

  Her heart flip-flopped.

  Trace pulled the gun from the holster at his side and tossed it into the brush several feet in front of them.

  What could they do? Jill’s mind raced but couldn’t settle on a logical move. The two men were dressed in military-type garb. Dark camouflage. Headgear that prevented a good view of their faces. Who were the traitors?

  “Start walking this way,” the man ordered.

  Trace held out his hand. Jill glanced at him, then put her hand in his. His eyes kept sending the same message . . . be calm.

  “One slow step at a time,” the man growled.

  “Do you trust me?” Trace murmured, his attention focused forward.

  “Yes,” Jill whispered, daring to glance at him from the corner of her eyes.

  “On three,” he whispered, “bend your knees and propel yourself backward with as much force as you can manage.”

  Was he out of his mind?

  “Move it!” the man with the gun roared.

  “One,” Trace murmured.

  Yes, he was out of his mind.

  “Two.”

  Jill sucked in a breath.

  “Three.”

  Six

  Gunshots exploded in the air as they plunged over the cliff.

  Jill felt something whiz past her thigh.

  Bullet?

  Then all she could feel was . . . falling.

  The water seemed to rush up to meet her.

  She gulped a mouthful of air a split second before her body burst through the turbulent surface.

  Down. Down. Down.

  She hit the bottom hard.

  Her hand was no longer clutched in Trace’s.

  She scrambled away from the rocky bottom. Tried to climb to the surface. Her arms and legs flailed frantically.

  That was when she remembered that she’d never been a very good swimmer.

  The water was dark . . . thick . . . she needed to breathe.

  Her heart felt ready to explode.

  Was it better to die this way than be tortured to death?

  Where was Trace?

  A strong hand suddenly manacled her arm.

  She couldn’t see.

  Where were her glasses? As if they would help her underwater anyways.

  The hand was towing her along through the water, but not toward the surface.

  She needed air.

  She fought the hold. Tried to lunge upward.

  The hand pulled harder.

  Trace?

  She blinked, peered through the murky water.<
br />
  Maybe her father had been wrong. Maybe this was the Devil dragging her to hell.

  She fought his grasp.

  Didn’t want to go.

  On some level she recognized that panic was distorting rational thought.

  She didn’t want to die.

  Her knees hit something solid.

  Rocky. Painful.

  The river bottom.

  The hand continued to haul her forward.

  Her head broke the surface of the water.

  She gasped for air.

  Something pinged in the water next to her.

  “Hurry!”

  Trace’s voice!

  Her heart burst with joy.

  She blinked. Tried to see.

  The form in front of her was blurry.

  “Come on, Jill. Hurry!”

  More of that insistent pinging. Closer. Shots.

  She scrambled on to the bank, hauled along by the form that had to be Trace.

  Limbs and brushes were scratching at her.

  A cracking sound from the tree trunk closest to her made her jump forward.

  “Run!” Trace roared.

  She forced her legs to move faster. Her wet clothes seemed to drag at her, weighting her down.

  The woods swallowed them up.

  Tree limbs slapped at her shoulders, at her face.

  Running . . . running . . . she couldn’t see where they were going. Couldn’t catch her breath to ask.

  Faster.

  She stumbled.

  Trace pulled her to her feet. Yanked her forward.

  She wished she had her cell phone so she could call for help. But she’d left it to burn with the rest of her life.

  Her home was gone.

  Her project was gone.

  Her life was over.

  Her body shook.

  How could this have happened?

  It wasn’t fair. Like all those means girls back in high school. And all the indifference in college.

  Besides her father, no one had ever cared about her . . . except Trace. He hadn’t lied to her. He had been telling the truth.

  Trace dodged around and between trees. She stayed close behind him to prevent a collision. Most of what she could see was nothing more than fuzzy forms.

  There was that sound again.

  That familiar cacophony. The helicopter.

  Oh, God! They were closing in!

  They hit a clearing.

  Trace stopped. She banged into his backside.

  Her mouth opened to demand why they had stopped, but he spoke first.

  “Don’t move.”

  She stared up at the sky. The helicopter hovered directly above them. It was dark. Maybe green or black.

  Dammit! She needed her glasses!

  Something dropped from the sky.

  She jumped back.

  Trace grabbed her hand, pulled her back to him. “Grab hold of this.” He pushed something against her. Then placed her hand on it.

  “Feel for the rungs,” he told her. “Climb. Now! I’ll be right behind you.”

  “But it’s—”

  “Help,” he urged. “They’re here to help us.”

  Jill didn’t understand.

  “Hurry, Jill.”

  She reached up with her other hand. Felt the next rung. Trace placed her right foot on the lowest rung. She moved upward. Her body trembled. Maybe it was a blessing she couldn’t see.

  Climb. He’d said to climb. She moved her hands up, one over the other, as quickly as she dared. He touched her ankle letting her know he was close behind her.

  They were moving.

  Her heart seemed to stop.

  The helicopter was moving!

  Fear overwhelmed her ability to move.

  Trace tapped her leg.

  She didn’t dare look down but she knew what he was trying to tell her. Keep moving.

  Up. Right hand. Right foot. Then the left. Up. Keep moving up.

  Strong hands grabbed at her from above.

  Her breath stalled in her lungs.

  “Come on, Dr Mulroney, we’ve got you.”

  She couldn’t see the face, but the voice was reassuring.

  With the help of one or more of the men in the helicopter she managed to climb inside. She was ushered into a seat. “There you go, ma’am.”

  She nodded. Should have said thank you but she couldn’t find her voice.

  “We thought we’d lost you, Major.”

  Trace had climbed into the helicopter. “Thanks for the ride, Captain.”

  Jill closed her eyes. This was all far too surreal. Her stomach lurched. What was happening? She didn’t understand this. Her life was boring. Computers and research and labs. Engineers and computer languages.

  “You okay?”

  She felt the seat shift as Trace settled next to her. She opened her eyes and tried to stare into his. She hated not being able to see without her glasses. “What’s happening?” Her body trembled. She was sopping wet. As if she’d said the last aloud, he pulled a blanket around her.

  “We’re okay now.”

  She shook her head. “Who are these people?”

  “United States Army,” Trace explained. “They’re from Redstone Arsenal.”

  Redstone she knew. NASA shared the base with the Army.

  “So you’re Army?” The man who’d helped her into the helicopter had called Trace Major.

  “No, not Army.” Trace put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “I’ll explain all that when this is over.” He kissed her forehead. “For now, just relax. You’re safe. We’re going to get these bad guys and then you’ll have your life back.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. How could he promise all that? A big, fat, hot drop slid down her cheek. She cursed herself for being so weak.

  He swiped the tear from her cheek. “It might take a little while to sort all this out, but you have my word that I’ll keep you safe until it’s over. And you will get your life back.”

  She nodded. Tried to stop the river of emotion that abruptly overflowed. She never cried like this.

  Trace leaned his face close to hers. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I lost my glasses.”

  He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, clearing the path of tears once more. “I’ll take care of that as soon as we hit the base.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t stop shaking. This was ridiculous. She was so confused. So tired. So . . . afraid.

  “Do you trust me?”

  The warmth of his big body so close, the sound of his voice, all of it surrounded her and the rest of the world faded away.

  “Yes.”

  He brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Good because I won’t let you down.”

  But what about when this was over? He would be gone! “When it’s over you’ll have to leave.”

  “I’ll always come back to you.” He smiled, she felt his lips widen against her cheek. “Now that I’ve found you I’m not letting you go.”

  Relief and plain old happiness tugged at her lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Major.”

  He kissed her. She lost herself to the feel of his lips.

  She’d lost everything to this man; the man she’d been certain was a traitor. Instead, he was her savior.

  Her life hadn’t ended. It had only just begun.

  Author Biographies

  Michele Albert

  After graduating with a classical archaeology degree from the University of Michigan, she was fortunate enough to sell her second completed manuscript to Avon Books in 1997. She is a winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award (1997) and she has been nominated for Best Mainstream Novel twice by Romantic Times. She lives with her husband and two lazy cats in a suburb of Madison, Wisconsin. www.michelealbert.com

  Shannon K. Butcher

  After her husband (#1 New York Times bestselling author Jim Butcher) taught her how to write, she started her own career creating award-winning roman
tic suspense and paranormals of her own. She lives in Missouri with her husband and son, where conversations at the dinner table are more often about things someone made up than about anything that’s actually happened. www.shannonkbutcher.com

  Rachel Caine

  Rachel Caine is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of many series including Morganville Vampires, Weather Warden, Outcast Season, the upcoming Dead Sexy, and (via Harlequin Bombshell) the Red Letter Days romantic-suspense series. Lucia Garza, one of the two private detectives featured in Devil’s Bargain and Devil’s Due, is the main character of the story included in this collection.

  Sydney Croft

  The pen name for New York Times bestselling paranormal author Larissa Ione (the Demonica series) and romantic suspense author Stephanie Tyler (the Hold series featuring Navy SEALs). Together they write erotic paranormal action-adventure novels with a military twist. www.larissaione.com

  Rinda Elliott

  After publishing short fiction in the romance and horror genres, she found her niche in urban fantasy, where she could mix the two up. Her agent has her new adult urban fantasy, as well as her young adult paranormal romance currently on submission. www.relliott4.wordpress.com

  Laura Griffin

  The award-winning author of numerous novels including Untraceable, Unspeakable, Whisper of Warning, Thread of Fear, One Wrong Step, One Last Breath and more, she started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. www.lauragriffin.com

  Gennita Low

  Three time RWA Golden Heart finalist and winner of the Romantic Times Book Club’s Best Intrigue, Gennita Low is the national bestselling author of romantic spy-fi. She’s a roofer by day and knows 600 ways to kill with a nail gun. She’s popular for her COS Commandos and SEALs series. www.gennita-low.com

  Nicola Marsh

  Former physiotherapist, multi-award finalist and bestselling author Nicola Marsh writes flirty fiction with flare. She’s a Waldenbooks and BookScan bestseller and has published twenty-two contemporary romances with Harlequin Mills and Boon. www.nicolamarsh.com

  Penny McCall

  Born and raised in southeastern Michigan, she is the award-winning author of several humorous romantic suspense novels, and a handful of short contemporary romances that have been also published in Germany, France, Denmark and Israel. www.pennymccall.net

  Cheyenne McCray