Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Never said you were.”

  “I can do my arm myself.”

  Cash shrugged, starting the process of binding her arm into a secure position. Her skin was silken, her arm toned. The girl had muscles, but not in a bulky way. A little deceiving. He liked it. Different from what she had been before: a little skinny, not flabby but no definition. Reaching behind her, he grabbed the sling and bent her arm in, careful to adjust the strap.

  “Done.”

  “Why are you being nice to me?”

  “Shit, Nicola. I don’t know. I gotta figure you’re fucked in the head right now, as much as Roman and I are. True?”

  She nodded. “You never told him?”

  “What? About you and me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’d be a hell no. Hey, sorry your sister died, and, oh yeah. I was doing her on the side.”

  “We were more than that,” she whispered.

  Cash stretched his arms over his head, trying to alleviate the discomfort in his chest. Didn’t work. Instead, he leaned back on the table top and stared at the sliver of moon teasing the dark night. “Yeah, we were.”

  A light breeze picked up. An owl hooted. Time floated by, until she also lay back on the table. He turned his head. Nicola was as stunning now, staring into the night sky, as she’d been in that pool years ago. “Life’s thrown a few curve balls, huh?”

  “Did you ever think about what if?”

  “Did you?”

  “I did for a while. And then I drowned myself in work.”

  “You going to tell me who you work for?”

  “CIA.”

  The CIA? Well, shit. Color him flabbergasted. “Not what I thought you were going to say.”

  “You were thinking more like, FBI. Linguistics department?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Truth is, well, yeah.”

  “I guess Uncle Sam thought I had too much to offer to stick me in a middle of nowhere Podunk town in witness protection when they found out I was fluent in, like, eight languages.”

  “Eight? Come on, slacker. I thought it was more like twenty.”

  She laughed. “Oh, now you’re counting dialects.”

  It felt so familiar it made him want to tear his hair out. “You could say the same thing about me and Roman. Drowning ourselves in work. He never questioned why I was just as torn up about you as he was.”

  “We’d been inseparable, the three of us, since we were kids.”

  “True.” He took her hand in his and leaned them both up. The heat from her touch stayed with him after she drew her fingers away.

  “I never told you this, but I actually had a crush on you way before college. Like sixth grade.”

  He heard the smile in her voice. “Now you’re just making shit up. You need another favor? Cell phone privileges again, huh? Maybe you want the cute little gun you pointed at my head?”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe I do.”

  God, he hurt again all of a sudden. “I never told you this, but I had a ring.”

  She bolted straight up. “Excuse me?”

  Cash pushed up on his elbows, unsure where the fuck that honest tidbit materialized from. He laughed, not all that shocked that he’d confessed the truth, and stood up. “Good night, Nicola. Hope your arm feels better.”

  * * *

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Nicola yelled from the picnic table.

  He walked into the house and shut the door before she was even upright. Hopping and hobbling as fast as her good and gimp feet would move her, Nicola tried to balance with an arm in the sling. He couldn’t throw a bomb like that and just run. Hell no.

  She threw open the door and hollered, “Get back here.”

  “Night, Nic.” He was halfway across the kitchen, not looking back. “Have a nice life.”

  “Cash Garrison. Stop!”

  He pivoted and looked at her in a way that tore her emotions into bits of shrapnel. “Why? What does it matter?”

  “You can’t say you had a ring and walk away.”

  “Why not? You walked away. You left, remember?”

  “I left everyone!”

  “You left me.” Cash laughed. “You know what? I don’t care about everyone. I never even cared about me. I cared about you. I mourned you. I died that day alongside you. But ain’t that some shit?”

  “Cash—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You had your reasons. But it was a good thing. Never would be here, where I am now, if you hadn’t walked away.”

  She hopped two steps forward, and the pressure in her chest nearly debilitated her. “You’re a son of a bitch.”

  He met her in the middle of the kitchen like they were squaring off for a round of celebrity death match, operative-style. “You’re a goddamn liar.”

  The lights flicked on. Roman stood in the hallway, gun in one hand, other hand still on the wall. “What the fuck are you two doing? Nic, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, what are we doing, Nicola?” Cash’s glare locked on hers.

  Silence.

  She had nothing to say. Nothing except for… she narrowed her eyes. “I hate you, Cash.”

  “You hate me? Jesus fucking Christ. If that’s not the best line you’ve had all night, I don’t know what is. The CIA feed you those beauties?”

  Roman cleared his throat. “CIA? What’s the Agency got to do with this?”

  They ignored him. “You think you can keep your mouth shut about anything? Mister Let’s-sit-and-talk-under-the-moon?”

  “At least I’m solid to those I care about.”

  They were nose to nose. Well, as close as they could be with him towering over her. She breathed hard through sealed teeth, angrier than she had ever been, and she didn’t know why. She shoved him with her good elbow, attempting to push past him. He grasped her bicep, pulled her close.

  Inches. She was inches from his face, and for some reason, all she could think about was how he smelled like soap. Soap and Jack Daniel’s.

  “I mourned you too, Cash.” Her voice broke. “Don’t you know that?”

  Eyes locked, they stared. She felt bleeding pain down to her soul.

  And suddenly, it wasn’t just them. She came back to reality and the voices in the background. Roman was saying something. She drew her eyes away from Cash, dimly aware of how close, how heated she and Cash were. Cash seemed to notice also, releasing his grip on her arm. But they stayed in place, close enough she could still smell him.

  By the look on his face, Roman must have repeated himself. “What is going on between you two? You’ve been at each other’s throats for hours. Christ.”

  With all the emotion required to play Grand Theft Auto, Cash turned from her to Roman. “Sorry, man. I was doing your sister on the side. Beat my ass later. I’m going to bed.”

  He ambled out of the kitchen, throwing a finger up in a fuck-you goodbye. Roman, the brother she’d once known so well, stared at her. Unreadable.

  He opened his mouth, but it just stayed open. Nothing came out.

  “I should have told you.”

  “I don’t really know what to say.” He shook his head. “Cash? How did I not know about… you two?”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. It didn’t do any good for all the lies she was tangled in now.

  “You’ve got that on repeat tonight, huh?” Roman rubbed his face, digging fists into his eyes. He sighed. “Look, sorry. I’m not trying to be a bastard. It’s just, that’s Cash. Cash. I’m a little shocked. He’s a piece of shit in the womanizing department. I mean, I love the guy, but shit. I wouldn’t have wanted you with him.”

  “I don’t know if he was back when I knew him.”

  “Cash has always been Cash.” Roman paused. “This is just a lot to take in. You’re alive. You were with Cash. You’re avoiding Mom and Dad. Heavy shit, Nic.”

  “You should probably disown me and go back to thinking I’m dead. Everything was easier ten hours ago or so. Hurt a lot less too.”

 
“Nicola Beatrice, you’re my little sister. I can be angry at you. I might be furious or shocked or simply fucking confused, but I will never turn my back on you. You’re blood. You’re family, and for whatever fucked-up reason, you’re back. We need a sit down with Dr. Phil or some couch doc like that, ‘cause I think my head’s going to explode. But I’ll deal.”

  She nodded.

  He wrapped her in a bear hug. “Promise me you won’t run off in the middle of the night?”

  Nicola shrugged into his embrace, nodding. “Promise. Besides, I don’t have wheels, and my boss is going to question my ass for blowing my extraction plans.”

  “The CIA, huh?” A proud grin snaked across his face.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He hooked an arm around her as they walked out of the kitchen. “Well, how about that, baby sister?”

  “Don’t give Cash a hard time. It was years ago, and I made the first move.”

  Roman stopped walking and looked down the hall, clearly uncomfortable that the conversation had continued. “The last thing I want to talk about is the details of you with him. He and I will hash it out mano a mano.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Now you sound like my kid sister, not some operative spewing extraction plan bullshit.”

  She nudged him with a playful elbow. “Leave him alone. It was more than ten years ago.”

  “I’m not having some guy do my sister and not have hell to pay. You deserve something, someone special or some crap like that.”

  “It’s not like he was my fir—”

  “Do not finish that sentence.” He shook his head, then all but covered his ears.

  “Roman, I wasn’t a—”

  “Shut it. Now.”

  “I was a sophomore in college, for Christ sake.”

  “You were my innocent kid sister.”

  “I think we’ve already established that nothing I do, or have done, has been that innocent.”

  “Cash is a slut. You need to stay away from him. I should’ve told you that in college. I just didn’t know. Or realize. I thought we were all buddy-buddy.”

  “Cash is your best friend. Was mine too.”

  “Dudes don’t have best friends. No BFF necklaces and shit like that. There’s a code, and there’s repercussions. You two might’ve been tight. Best friends or whatever, but he and I were buds.”

  “I loved him.”

  Well, that shut up the banter. Roman’s jaw hung to the ground. He threw his hands in the air. “That I’m not touching.”

  “I did. Love him, I mean, and I think...”

  He turned back to her, almost pityingly. “’Cause you’ve known him your whole life. That’s not love. That’s like… brotherly affection or something else.”

  “No, Roman. You’re wrong. I fell in love with him the day he let me ride his dirt bike in grade school. Again the day he took that girl everyone in high school picked on to the prom when he was Prom King. And the day in college he tried everything to keep me from kissing him.”

  “Whatever you two were, it wasn’t much if he tosses out doing you on the side. He deserves a beat down, if for no other reason than leading you on. That piece of shit.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Neither do you. Stay away from him. He’s my bro, but he’s a man whore with indiscriminate taste. Hell, I don’t even know you anymore, but I know you deserve better than that.”

  * * *

  This house had shitty insulation. For middle-class suburbia, it could have used better interior construction because, for everything he did to ignore the brother-sister convo, Cash failed.

  He was a piece of shit, and Roman was right. He was always down for a fuck, but damned if that busted-up beauty hobbling in the kitchen wasn’t the cause of it.

  At least brother and sister were making amends. He and Roman would duke it out in the morning. Wouldn’t be the first or last time they’d throw down. It worked for them, and truth be told, he felt like a beating might kill off the emo bullshit bouncing around in his brain.

  Cash took off the ankle holster, laid the gun under his pillow, and looked at Betty. “Looks like you’re the only one in my life. Glad you can’t hobble away.”

  Then again, he wouldn’t have Betty the Shitkicker if things hadn’t gone down with Nicola the way they did. He’d be married, kicking it with a white picket fence somewhere out in Small Town, USA. No idea how he’d earn a living. It sure as shit wouldn’t be traveling all over the world, blowing the brains out of other POS. And his wife wouldn’t be up to her cute nose in the CIA.

  “Night, Betty.”

  But saying goodnight didn’t accomplish his sleep-focused end game.

  I fell in love with him… And again. And again…

  Well, that was enough to drown him in memories. They’d been on the same page from day one. How he waited so long to kiss her, he had no idea. She was an adorable brat when they were neighbors, always wanting to play with him and Roman. No tea parties for that girl. She wanted in on cops and robbers. Maybe he should have seen the CIA coming.

  He laughed about prom. Every high school dance, he’d taken someone other than the girl he wanted. Except for one time, when Nicola’s date came down with the chicken pox. Homecoming his senior year. Yeah, he’d been Homecoming King too, and dancing with Nicola in front of the school had been the best moment of his high school career. Not the state championship winning touchdown. Not any other single memory.

  He didn’t care that he’d ditched the Homecoming Queen two seconds into their dance. He had eyes for one girl, and since he was her stand-in-date for the night, Cash had used it to his advantage.

  Yeah, he needed Roman to beat his face in tomorrow. Maybe that would knock out all these shitty memories.

  Garrison’s Creed: Chapter Six

  Nicola needed new clothes and a pair of shoes. Cash’s shirt and sweats made her finger-tapping, mind-spinning anxious. They smelled like him. It was as if the ghost of boyfriends past wrapped its emotional arms around her and hugged her all night long. The morning was a long time coming, but now she faced dawn. Time to go.

  Glancing in the mirror and deciding her makeup was a lost cause, she scrubbed it off in the bathroom. Still not better. A shower was the better option. Using all the shampoo and body wash in the travel-sized containers she found, she did her best to clean up. With a quick towel dry of her hair, she put her clothes back on, and was off, limping toward the kitchen.

  Raucous male voices bled down the hall until she rounded the corner. Their conversation faltered as she entered.

  She smiled. “Morning, boys. I’m praying Roman still knows how to make a killer cup of coffee.”

  There. She’d addressed the elephant in the room. Her very presence. She was still the evil, abandoning sister, but she was also still Nicola. And just that easy, they went back to bitching about something from the sports page. She watched the dynamic: Cash spoke to Rocco. Roman spoke to Rocco. Rocco spoke to everyone.

  Maybe it was one hundred and eighty degrees from easy, but at least they fronted well.

  Roman eyed her arm. “Where’s your sling?”

  Nicola tried to straighten her bandaged elbow but flinched at the tenderness. “Don’t need it.”

  “You’re Super Woman?”

  She shrugged. “Can I borrow that phone again?”

  Cash didn’t look at her. “Yup. But same drill as before.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Someone will get it for you after breakfast, unless you need it now.”

  Someone wasn’t lost on her. He certainly wasn’t volunteering. “No, that’s fine.”

  Half a dozen types of protein bars, individually wrapped cookies, and crackers served as breakfast, spread across the granite countertop. Tasty and typical as a gas station buffet. She grabbed a bar and a cup of coffee, taking a scalding sip.

  Nope. Not made by Roman or Cash. It was military mud, and she assumed Rocco had joined up an
d been discharged just like the other two. “Delicious.” She smiled.

  Rocco smiled.

  No one else smiled.

  After she’d added about a pound of sugar and powdered creamer, the coffee was bearable. Caffeine was a requirement to function. She did what she had to do and downed the sludge. “Yeah, I’ll be downstairs. Let me know when I can use that phone.”

  Rocco smiled again. At least he was of the friendly variety. A half hour later, she’d had her Rocco-supervised phone call, and an hour after that, she still needed to kill thirty minutes until a CIA extraction team arrived to bring her in for debriefing.

  Finding nothing better to do, she hobbled up the stairs. The guys were kicked back watching the television.

  “I’m leaving soon. Just wanted to say bye. Maybe see if I can call you later? We can hook up and do lunch. Catch up. Something.”

  Roman stood and turned to face her. “Shit, yeah. Whenever you want to, I’m there.”

  “What the hell happened to you, Roman?” Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother.

  Roman’s swollen lip was split in the middle. He had a black eye forming, and his knuckles hung at his side, raw. Cash turned from the TV, looking just as messed up. Both of his eyes were swollen.

  They’d thrown down because of her. The two most important people in her life—whether they knew it or not—had beaten the crap out of each other. All because her op went bad, and they knew about her. How did she not hear them fight?

  “Goddamn you both.”

  “What?” All three men played stupid. An urge to smack each one across the head tickled her palm.

  “You all are morons.” She hopped to the kitchen, wrote down her contact info, and continued. “Should you care, here’s how you can get a hold of me. Grow the fuck up.”

  Rocco interjected. “Nicola, they did what they had to do. They’re fine.”

  “They’re assholes.”

  “They’re men. And it’s done.”

  “I’ll be down the block, at my pick-up location.”

  Roman walked toward her. “You’re barefoot.”

  “Maybe stupidity runs in the family.”