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

  They didn’t say anything. No one around them did either. Every person on the patio stopped and stared. The waitstaff watched. Someone, somewhere clanged a knife on a plate.

  “Check please,” Beth whispered.

  Garrison’s Creed: Chapter Seventeen

  Being stuck bitch in a Cash-and-Beth-sandwich on the front seat of the truck proved annoying. Beth was passed out and propped up against the door. Cash had an arm draped over the wheel, humming along with the radio like he wasn’t a macho jerk.

  Everything he’d said in their spar hadn’t meant a thing. She thought she had a grip on her and Cash, but she was wronger than wrong. She felt plain stupid for assuming that he’d be different than any other man, not seeing what she wanted and instead playing big dog. His delivery, acting all cocky and beating his chest like Tarzan, hadn’t helped. So he wanted to protect her. Too freakin’ bad. It wasn’t his call. Shit, she wanted to protect him. Bet that’d make him shrivel up.

  “I’m not sorry.” There he went, running his mouth.

  “Couldn’t care less.”

  “Well, I’m not thrilled you’re mad at me.”

  “Still don’t care.”

  Beth smacked her lips as she slept. Her occasional snore broke the hum of the road as Nic directed Cash to Beth’s condo.

  “I’m good enough to be out in the field, Cash. I’m strong and I’m smart and—”

  “I get that,” he said on a breath. “But I’d rather just take care of it. It’s a man thing. A protective thing.”

  “You don’t know me at all. I don’t want to be protected. I like protecting. I’m a sleuthing badass. I like what I do, and you stepping in isn’t, isn’t—”

  “Isn’t what, Nic? Not my call? ‘Cause I’m making it my call.”

  “It’s not fair.” She pointed for him to make a left turn onto a tree-lined road. “It’s not fucking fair.”

  “Babe, life’s not fair. You of all people should know that.”

  “But I can choose who I work with, and that means I don’t have to work with you.”

  “You do through this assignment.”

  “Well, screw that. You and my big brother don’t call the shots.”

  “Yes—”

  “I’ll go out alone. You and Roman can sit around like old biddies and bitch about that. I don’t care.” She took a breath and pointed. “Pull in right there. That turnabout.”

  He slowed into the horseshoe driveway of the high rise building, then turned to her, his eyes almost pleading. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Obviously you don’t know me as well as I thought you did. I was out there by myself before you two came along. The only reason Titan’s involved is because the CIA wants this one off the books. I’ll go off the books for both Titan and the CIA. I want this fucker. If I get the chance to take him out, bring him down, or just entrap him, he’s mine.”

  He shut his eyes. Worry creased their corners. “Nic…”

  “Blah, blah. I’m sick of it.”

  Beth stirred. Cash parked his truck and got out, leaving Nic alone with Beth, who had gone back to snoring. Very slowly, Cash opened the passenger door. Beth was still very much passed out.

  “Grab her stuff. Get her keys out.”

  Nic stared at him. “What are you doing?”

  The whiskey in her blood slowed, as she understood his plan. Click. He undid the seatbelt and extracted her snoring best friend. Beth nuzzled against his chest. Cash was a protector. He did it without thinking. Without being asked. He did it because he probably expected no less of himself. Damn him, all well-rounded and caring.

  Nicola pinched her eyes tightly. Cash wanted their heavy lifting because of who he was. Nic in the field threw that balance off. Too bad. He needed to find a new center of gravity.

  With Beth draped over him, Cash started toward the front doors. The doorman opened without a sideways glance. Nicola could do nothing more than watch Cash.

  “You coming?” he asked over his shoulder.

  The keys jangled in her hand, kick-starting her butt into gear. She led the way to Beth’s apartment.

  * * *

  Nicola had taken Beth’s shoes off and left her a glass of water and two Tylenol on the bed stand before they left.

  “Thanks. For helping Beth.”

  He chuckled. “She’s a lightweight.”

  “Trust me, she’s not. I’d chalk that up to an empty stomach and too much excitement.”

  Cash shrugged, and they walked down the corridor. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Look, I didn’t mean to get so upset. I’ve worked hard to prove myself and… I know it’s in your nature. I just… I don’t know.”

  They stopped in front of the elevator, and he pushed the down button and popped an Altoid. “We’re finding our equilibrium. New partners and preconceived notions.” His voice was quiet, but he still didn’t sound willing to budge on David the Butler.

  “Maybe.” She watched him in the oversized wall mirror instead of pacing the length of the waiting area. Since he’d called her fidgeting habit, it was on her mind. Don’t squirm. Don’t fiddle. Don’t, for the love of God, give Cash a reason to get in her head.

  “Let’s work the ammo angle. We’ll go see Sugar, get that over with, and then we’ll be working together. Just like you want.”

  “Why?” Sugar? He wanted more drama?

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re fighting, and Sugar isn’t going to help.”

  “Nah, this is more like a disagreement. A work-related disagreement. I don’t think it has anything to do with you and me.”

  “It has everything to do with us.”

  “Us at work.”

  “Us in general.” She shook her head.

  “Nope.” He paused and looked her over from blonde bun to butt-kicking boots. “We’re disagreeing, and it’s bothering you because you care. Don’t know if you realize that, but it’s true. And I’m apparently the problem, and it’s because, I guess, I care.”

  The elevator dinged open. Hurray! Get her out of there. He walked in and held the door, waiting for her to join him. Hmm. Confined space. Maybe she should’ve hoofed it down the stairs. Nic moved to the corner opposite. His truck, the shower, and now the elevator. Too many closed in spaces.

  He leaned back against the wall, surveying. “Whatcha doing way over there?”

  She fidgeted with her purse, repositioning it from one shoulder to the other. “The more space, the better.”

  “Are two little things like Sugar and the butler gonna keep you a rifle’s distance away from me?”

  “I don’t really know you, Cash. I don’t know what you want. What I know is that you want to mess with my job.”

  “Screw that. Here’s the truth. I lost you once.” He pointed at her, then back at him. “I like this. I like us. And I liked last night. A lot. You’re more than a fun fuck, and I don’t want to lose you again, so there you go, sweet girl. Maybe I’m all lost in nostalgic malarkey, but not only do I want you in bed, I want you out of bed. Which, as you’ve been clued in to, isn’t my MO. So shit’s different with you. You can lie and say you don’t feel it too. That’s cool, but know that I know.”

  He knows? He knows nothing. He had no clue about the confused ramblings bouncing in her brain, no clue that she had to double check his reaction to make sure she didn’t cry out the words, “I love you.”

  Over the elevator door, the numbers counted their downward drag toward the ground floor. Why hadn’t they bottomed out yet? She needed out of the elevator, but it barely slid from floor to floor. At this pace, they wouldn’t hit G until tomorrow.

  Tomorrow would be too late.

  Prolonged exposure to Cash caused blips of lust-soaked anxiety. Her heartbeat picked up its tempo—bump, bump, bump—and she wanted to climb the walls.

  Since when was she claustrophobic?

  Oh, who was she kidding?

  Cash stretched high overhead. Just another day, making women swoon. Tha
t damn shirt hugged his muscles, and her mouth went dry. She tried to swallow around the knot in her throat. Tried to ignore the knots re-tying in her stomach. Even his belt had a look-at-me quality, wrapped around his toned waist. Flashes of his rippled stomach burned through her memory. Whoa, God. This elevator was teeny-tiny. He lorded over it in his corner, watching her watch him, and she needed the emergency escape hatch.

  A slow smile flickered across his face. “Nothing to say, sweet girl?”

  She shook her head. Nothing to say. Nothing to do except hide in her corner. Maybe dig in her purse a little more or check her phone or… Cash stepped to her. One step. Two steps. She looked at the ceiling, then at the elevator display. Button after button, unlit. Nineteen more floors to go, and Nicola couldn’t move, frozen and frying in his gaze.

  He had her. Sliding a finger down the curve of her neck, his finger flicked the purse strap, and with that grazing touch, it dropped.

  Loud thud. Intense moment. Pounding want.

  Nic’s tank-top-clad back pressed against the cold wall. Her bare shoulders were aware of the barrier. A heat ignited, and anticipation tingled from the perk of her breasts to the tips of her fingers.

  Inches.

  He was inches away and closing the distance. Cash palmed the elevator wall on both sides of her head. “I’m throwing lines about in bed, out of bed, and you’re standing, stoic like this is a cold shoulder challenge, and you want to win a trip to the freakin’ Arctic Circle.” He kissed behind her ear. Whimpers escaped her lips, then he whispered again. “After last night, I thought it was game on between us.”

  Close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of her chest, close enough for her to smell the mint he’d long-since devoured, Cash nudged at the wall of buttons. Click. The lights dimmed. The elevator stopped between floors.

  No alarms.

  No sirens.

  Just them, stuck in an elevator with the emergency lights on, and now she really couldn’t breathe.

  “There are cameras in here. I’m sure there are cameras.” The words came out breathy and wispy and screaming, “Please kiss me again.”

  “What is it you think I’m going to do?” He crushed against her. His smooth cheek grazed hers, and his lips brushed against her ear. “What is it that you want me to do?”

  Her libido did jumping jacks and her mind, somersaults. All she could see was the deep blue of his eyes. His weight pressed her in place. His palms cupped her face, igniting a fire wherever he touched. Never had a torturing burn felt so damn right.

  “I want…”

  Cash dipped his head. Soft hair teased over her cheek, and soft kisses turned her stomach. It was a cacophony of cravings. Heat pooled inside her. The very core of her body moaned for his contact.

  He repeated what she’d started. “You want…”

  “You.”

  She felt his smile on her skin. His full lips thinned into a grin, and his tongue sliced across the side of her collar bone, sweeping the strength out of her legs. Nicola hooked her thumbs into his belt loops. One of her legs snaked up his thigh. Trying to breathe was a wasted effort, and—

  Ring. Rrr-ring. Ring.

  What was it with the interruptions?

  Cash pulled back to stare at the elevator’s phone box, slid his hands down her body, letting one rest on her hip, and opened a small door with the other, grabbing the phone. “Hello.” Amused, he dragged the syllables before he made it to a long oh. A few uh-huhs later, he winked at her, flicked the elevator RUN button back to ON, and said into the handset, “Must have bumped into it. Sorry.”

  With the elevator phone back in its box and their ride creeping toward the ground level, they locked in a gaze. Nothing saying. Nothing doing. Just waiting.

  The doors opened, and a pudgy security guard waited for them to exit, hands on hips. “You two okay?”

  Yup, definitely cameras in the elevator. Just like the CIA: someone’s always watching.

  Cash took her hand in his. “Couldn’t be better.”

  * * *

  This may have been a mistake, and as mistakes go, it may have been a jumping-off-a-bridge bad. The GUNS sign was dead ahead on the right, and Cash braked, turning off the road and into a parking lot with a rusted, charging bison mascot snarling at every truck that dared cross into Sugar’s parking lot. The thing had to be the size of an army tank.

  “We’re here.” And so is she. Sugar’s '69 Mustang Boss 429, the same color as the lipstick she wore, sat in her parking spot. The twist in his gut and a flash glance at Nic said this moment was leaning toward colossal catastrophe.

  No time to backpedal. Jumping out of his truck, Cash saw the security camera track him. Sugar knew they were there. Nic got out and slammed her door. At least she was down for their Q and A session. A second later, his girl was on his six, and they walked toward the gated-up, locked-down door.

  His girl.

  She was definitely his girl walking into Sugar’s lair. He’d iron out the semantics later.

  Moving from the focus of one security camera to the next, he waved hello at the lens over the door, and a series of locks disengaged mechanically after someone approved their entry.

  They walked into the waiting area lined with wall-mounted guns and knives. Glass cases housed a few more beauties.

  Sugar’s heels clacked down the hall before they could see her. It was Sugar. Only she could make footsteps sound like the sway of her hips. Her perfume drifted in before she did, and her entrance was nothing short of a sultry explosion.

  “Cash, baby.” She ignored Nicola, lasering onto him with lethal accuracy, and wrapped an arm around his back to kiss him hello. “I knew you’d be back soon.”

  This was about what he’d pictured. To Nic’s credit, her boot didn’t bounce-bounce-bounce. This was work-Nic. The professional Nicola. Cool and calculating. Nic didn’t flinch at whatever else Sugar babbled about. Probably several variations of, “let’s get into bed. Or drop to the floor.”

  Sugar turned to Nicola and shook her head, faux confused. “And what was your name again? Sarah? Julie?”

  “It’s Nicola,” Nic said with a touch of bring-it-bitch. “I understand if it’s hard to remember names that aren’t tangible.”

  Annnd, the ladies were off and running.

  This was everything Rocco probably dreamed of watching in real time. If the ladies were still standing at the end of this visit, he’d give Roc a serious recap.

  He stepped a boot between them. “Can we go to your office, Sugar? We have—”

  “Baby, you’re the king of the castle for all I’m concerned. Lead the way.”

  Cash fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he studied the guns lining the walls. Sugar could build the hell out of a specialty request. The display paid homage to that talent.

  If he could focus the ladies on guns and ammo, this conversation could stay on the up and up. “Why don’t you lead the way?”

  “Not sure that I want Julie, eh, Sally, whoever, running around back there though.” She turned to Nicola. “I can have someone bring you a chair, and we’ll make you comfy right here.”

  Cash gave a chuckle, impressed that Nic appeared unfazed, and said, “Not gonna happen like that. The three of us have business.”

  “I don’t trust her,” Sugar replied.

  No bounce-bounce-bounce shoe taps, but he saw it in Nic’s face. The charge had been set. No telling when she would strike. He needed to diffuse this blowup and get down to the warlord arms dealer business.

  One bounce. He heard Nic’s shoe bounce once. Then a bounce, bounce.

  “Sug—”

  Nic started in. “You’re selling illegal ammo, and you don’t trust me? Screw this, Cash. I’m calling ATF. They can deal with her.” She rifled through the black hole bag. The cell would eventually be found, and Nic didn’t look like this was a bluff.

  Sugar looked ready to pounce. “Excuse me? What the—”

  “Ladies, backroom. Now. Nic, put your cell away
.”

  Without a word, Sugar turned and stormed down the hall. Nic gave a smirk and shrug, following after her. Their two sets of feminine ass-kickin’ boots were readying to loft him a good one where the sun didn’t shine if he didn’t rein this situation in on the quick.

  Their threesome stopped in Sugar’s office. He’d only been in there a couple of times and hadn’t been intent on checking out the décor. Now, his objective was to keep them civil and productive.

  He looked at the bright fuchsia wall and over-the-top furniture. Sugar’s office was the Home Depot version of her, something he should have noticed before. Bet lots of interesting things went down in this room.

  “Speak,” Sugar ordered Nicola. “Fast.”

  Nic smiled as if ice ripped through her veins. “Where’d Jared’s ammo come from?”

  “None of your nosy-girl business.”

  “You know who Antilla Smooth is?”

  Sugar cocked an eyebrow and looked at Cash. He was content to let them work through this. For now.

  Sugar pivoted a gaze back to his girl. “BFF to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, big fan of the Hussein brothers. What does that have to do with me?”

  “Ever move his product?” Nic asked.

  “Never seen his product. Never been overseas to do business. Cash?” Sugar turned to him, a flash of concern coloring her glance. “What does this have to do with me?”

  He zipped his lips. Not his interrogation.

  She turned back to Nic. “I run a legit shop. I buy, sell, and trade. I design and build. I don’t play with third- or first-world arms dealers. No one in Europe, the Middle East, or South America. I don’t use Swiss bank accounts. Cold, hard good ole US of A cash exchanges. Fess up, Garrison girl. What’s up with ATF threats and name dropping the likes of the Bin Laden clan?”

  “The ammo you sold Titan is Smooth’s.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Ever seen anything of Antilla Smooth’s?”

  “Why would I?”

  “He marks his product with—”

  “Oh, fuck.” For a split second, shock shut Sugar silent. “With an A and an S.” Pure surprise dripped off Sugar’s painted-on face. The woman didn’t know. Nic had to see that too. Sugar was as caught off guard as he’d been when she rolled heels first into Winters’s living room.