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

  “Oh.” A huge sigh of relief washed over her face. He let go, watching her process the news. At least she didn’t fight him off when he’d power-grabbed her. “How’d you know?”

  “We have Gianori. We knew before you did.”

  Her eye went goose egg wide. “What?”

  “We’ll debrief. There’s a lot to catch up on. You did great.”

  “Thanks. You too.” Her breaths slowed down. Cash heard nothing over-stimulated or hypersensitive in her tone. Just another day on the job for her.

  He smiled. That was… cool.

  “Did you hear all that, earlier?” she asked.

  And she wanted to review the play-by-play, just like he’d want to rehash after an op. “That was some shit, right?”

  “Damn.” She laughed. “Never saw it coming.”

  “I didn’t mean to step in—”

  “No, I needed backup. That was good. We were good.” She nodded, turned, and went looking for something.

  A purse. She held it up, looking pleased. Well, all right then. The big brown purse made her happy. Good to know.

  “You were seriously good, Nic.”

  “Told ya.” She winked at him, moving stuff around in the bag.

  Were all her bags that big? How much stuff did she have, anyway? She shouldn’t stay with that asshole Jackson. She should stay with him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m going to tell the CIA I want to work with you on projects sometimes. That was awesome. That whole you-twist-I-throw thing was out of this world.”

  Well, he’d never mention that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she was doing. Nor would he mention he didn’t hear the other man come in.

  Everything in Cash’s head buzzed. Loudly. His fingertips tingled and the thump, thump in his chest overwhelmed him. She was perfect—impressive—and he’d handled her in the field semi-okay. Always room for improvement, but this moment, he wanted nothing to change. That adrenaline rush pinking her cheeks was something he wanted to see every day.

  “Look, Nicola. Now’s the wrong time, I get that. But goddamn, woman, I’m the luckiest bastard alive. Getting to fall in love with you twice.” He couldn’t have stopped speaking if he tried. “Hell, I’ve never not loved you.”

  Frozen and eyes wide open. Not the look he was hoping for. Nicola didn’t move. She might not have been breathing.

  “Sorry to lay it out there like this. But there it is. Deal with it. Ignore it—”

  Nicola lunged into his arms, smashing her palms on either side of his cheeks. “I’ve loved you every day. Since as far back as I can remember, Cash, I’ve loved you.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. The tough operative from a moment ago transformed into the woman he daydreamed about. His forehead, his cheek, hell, his soul, touched hers. Her silent tear tickled his skin. “I wasn’t trying to make you sad.”

  “God, Cash. Sad isn’t what I am.” Her lips brushed his bottom one as she sighed into a kiss.

  Soft and supple. Her mouth was designed for him. He knew it to the bottom of his soul. The caress of her tongue brought him far away from the operation. The faint smell of lavender and flowers whisked over his senses, reminding him of every kiss they’d ever shared.

  His fingers tunneled through her silky hair as he consumed her kiss. The need to breathe was secondary. The reasons he had to live and fight and survive realigned themselves. It had hit him fast and furious with such conspicuous accuracy that her exclamation of love was deafening. Life changing.

  Drawing back from her, Cash memorized her beautiful chocolate brown eyes and upturned lips. Some days, moments, would be remembered for the rest of his days. This was one of them.

  He laced his fingers with hers, still pressed on his face. “Let’s call for a cleanup team and go home.”

  She signed and leaned into him, allowing him to easily envelop her in his arms. “I’d like to see my parents. I…” He waited to see what else she had to say. “Will you go with me?”

  He’d been to Janet and Rick’s place a thousand times, from when he and Roman raced bikes in the driveway to Sunday night pot roasts while Nic was gone. Her parents might’ve well been his to a certain extent. Why her hesitation?

  Remembering her anxiety and guilt at the gun range, he said, “Of course I will. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Garrison’s Creed: Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nicola’s small hometown remained untouched, and passing the high school, memories flooded her from every direction.

  The house she’d grown up in hadn’t changed either. Stone fenced. Two-level Colonial. White clapboard. Black shutters. Red door. Why she’d thought it would look different was beyond her. She could’ve driven through this neighborhood a thousand times over the last ten years. But she hadn’t. And that had nothing to do with the life-altering agreements she’d made with the CIA and witness protection that allowed her to live and work so close to where she had family and contacts.

  No, her avoidance had everything to do with the nauseous feeling that was making her dizzy in the driveway. She hadn’t set foot outside the car, so this wasn’t going well.

  “Nic, you look like you’re gonna puke.”

  She grimaced at Cash. “You have no idea.”

  “Put your head between your knees. Take a breath, and it’ll be okay.”

  Easier said than done. Still, Nicola followed his directions, flipping her head down and pressing it between her kneecaps. Maybe she could squeeze away the headache that had tortured her for the past few days.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Sort of.

  “Okay, I’m good,” she lied.

  He threw an I-don’t-buy-that-for-a-second grin, then took her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Let’s do this. Move your cute ass.”

  They opened their car doors and jumped out of Cash’s new jacked-up, black Rubicon. She liked it. It fit his personality. He said it’d do in a pinch, whatever that meant. The tires practically came up to her hip bone, and she stared at the front one until he came around the hood and took her hand in his again.

  Roman’s truck was parked at the top of the driveway. So he was here first. Good. If they were angry at her, he may have calmed them down. How would she feel if her daughter walked away for ten years? Anger might be tops on that list, but when she’d talked to them on the phone, they were anything but angry. More like better than thrilled. Happier than elated. So why the butterflies?

  Each step toward the imposing front door felt heavier than the last. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to practice that whole inhale, exhale thing, maybe sit on the front stoop, trying to re-master that skill set. But her parents were expecting her. Hell, they’d expected her since she called home to explain she’d been swept into witness protection then the CIA.

  And here she was, on the front steps, unsure.

  The red door swung open. Her beaming mom—with teary eyes and a smile spread wide across her face—had her arms outstretched. Dad stood close behind. He was still huge and commanding, with warmth plastered on his face that made Nicola cringe in an emotional ache.

  Nicola’s feet stopped moving. Her legs were made of cinder blocks, her arms cemented in place. The only things she could feel were pain and shame and… Cash’s hand. She couldn’t focus. Somehow Cash moved them toward her parents, and they took over.

  Hugs and kisses. Words, certainly, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of them because of the fierce sobs racking her body.

  “I’m so sorry.” She repeated it over and over, feeling less like a woman in her thirties and more like a child.

  Wrapped in warm arms, one of them smoothing her hair, another holding her tightly, the pain began to ebb. There was shushing and murmuring. But the only thought she had was how strong their love was. Their forgiveness, too.

  She wasn’t worthy. But everything they did communicated that was exactly what she was.

  Blinking and wiping away the tear streaks, Nicola took a deep breath. Then another. U
ntil she could inhale and exhale. Her chest felt lighter. The weight of her ice-cold guilt melted.

  Her mom grasped her by the shoulders. “We love you.”

  “And we understand,” her father tacked on.

  All she could do was nod, knocked over again by the emotional blow. The tears started again. Her sight blurred.

  “None of that now. This is a happy day,” her mom said, wiping at her eyes. Her dad nodded.

  They smiled. Really, truly smiled. She couldn’t feel any hatred toward their lying daughter. She didn’t see it in their expressions. They simply held her.

  Roman walked outside, stood next to Cash, and she tried for a weak smile. It came easier than she’d expected.

  “Why don’t you bring this whole thing inside before the neighbors get too nosy,” Roman suggested, then laughed. “Nic always could make a big entrance.”

  Then she did smile without having to try, and she laughed, loving her brother more in that moment than she ever had.

  “All right. In, in.” Her mother shooed everyone in the door, keeping an arm wrapped around her, directing her to the living room. “I hope you’re hungry, angel.”

  Angel. She’d never thought she’d hear her mom call her nickname again.

  The house smelled delicious and familiar. Nicola sighed, sitting on the same couch in the same spot as always. Cash settled down beside her, an arm thrown over her shoulder. For a second, her stomach jumped. Her parents didn’t know about her and Cash. Not before, and she wasn’t sure how to define them now, other than that they were a they.

  Her overprotective father didn’t bounce a sideways glance when he kicked back across from her.

  In the background, she heard Roman rifling through the pantry, asking their mother where the snacks were. It all felt so normal.

  Mom brought dad and Cash beers and Nic an orange juice, knowing that she would need her odd comfort drink. She’d drunk gallons of OJ with her mom over the years, rehashing teenage drama.

  “Thanks, mom.”

  Roman walked in, beer and dip in hand, potato chips under an arm.

  “So CIA, Nicky?” Dad always called her Nicky. Drove her crazy until right now. He looked proud.

  Nodding, she tried to think of what to say. “Yeah—”

  “Little sister’s a spy. Who’d a thunk it?” Roman laughed, stuffing chips and dip in at the same time. “And from what I’ve seen, she could give James Bond a run for his money.”

  “Double-Oh-Seven here can shoot and fight with the big boys,” Cash said, giving her a squeeze.

  The guys were bragging on her. Not what she’d expected and her cheeks heated.

  “Well, as long as you’re safe, angel. That’s what I tell the boys as well. The three of you are safe out there, right?”

  Roman, Cash, and Nicola all nodded some version of, “yes ma’am, yes mom, you got it.” Mom smiled ear to ear.

  “Dinner’s ready in twenty minutes. Roman, don’t ruin your appetite. Nicola Beatrice, would you join me in the kitchen?”

  Uh-oh. Breaking out the middle name. She was in trouble. No one else seemed to notice as a football appeared out of nowhere, soaring across the living room, and her mom didn’t give her a chance to wiggle out of that request. Nicola walked the familiar path to the kitchen, hearing the same floorboard creak as it had so long ago.

  “Why don’t you make the salad?” Her mom pointed to everything lined up on the counter.

  “I can do that.” This had been planned, but she was okay with it. The lineup of incoming questions made her nervous, but better to stay busy with her hands than fidget with her shirt.

  “Thanks. So I’m going to skip all the boring and sad stuff and skip to you and Cash. That okay with you, angel?”

  Nicola choked, spilling all the cherry tomatoes she had lined up to split, salt, and pepper. “Cash?” Her voice squeaked. Yeah. That wasn’t a dead giveaway of anything hot and heavy.

  Rolling her eyes, her mom laughed. “All right. We can dredge up years of missing—”

  “I can talk Cash. I ran into Cash and Roman—”

  “Angel, I know that already. You think either of those boys can keep a secret?”

  Guess not.

  Her mom smiled. “The more I feed them, the more they talk. It’s the only way I’ve stayed sane knowing what they run all over the world doing. I’ve also known the two of you have circled each other from afar since you were—honest to God—believers in cooties. And now, he’s holding your hand. Arm around the shoulder. Clearly, cooties aren’t a problem anymore.”

  Nic knew her cheeks blazed bright pink. “You noticed?”

  “I notice everything. Mothers always do.”

  “What about fathers? Do you think dad, um, noticed?”

  Her mom laughed. “Maybe. Do you like him?”

  “Of course I like him, mom. It’s Cash.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Mom!” Nic’s eyes bugged out like she was in the twelfth grade again.

  “You know, before everything happened,” her mom gestured to the window. Her dad, Roman, and Cash were outside tossing a football with one hand, nursing their beers in the other. “Cash had called your father. Wanted to talk to us. Without Roman or you there.”

  Silence. I had a ring. His voice echoed in her head. She hadn’t doubted him when he threw that jab at her, but—

  “Know anything about that?” Her mom cocked an eyebrow, smiling like she knew a secret. “Keep chopping, angel. We have hungry men to feed.”

  Nicola stared out the window instead and let her mom remove the knife and salad makings. She watched them in the backyard. Laughing and roughhousing. Cash threw the ball, spun round, and caught sight of her through the glass.

  They locked eyes, and her stomach jumped when his half-grin and a half-nod were directed her way. He’d been her best friend her whole life. He was more gorgeous than any man walking the face of the Earth. And here he was, making her tummy flip.

  The football hit the side of his head, and Roman cheered his direct hit. She laughed. Cash laughed before he turned and speared her brother, football in hand. Dad laughed. Everything felt like it should.

  The doorbell rang. Somewhere in the background, she heard her mother fussing for a hand towel, wiping her hands on the way to answer the front door. Nicola was mesmerized, watching her family. Being home—

  Chk-chck.

  And just that fast, the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun dumped an ice bath on her warm-and-fuzzy worldview. She palmed a steak knife from the kitchen island, slid to the wall, and listened.

  A floorboard creaked. She knew that floorboard, knew every one that creaked and groaned, thanks to years of sneaking out with Cash and Roman. Nic looked out the window. The men were back to their casual game of drink-and-toss, shooting the shit.

  She rounded the corner and knew that knife wouldn’t be worth the silver it was plated with if her hearing was right. And she had no doubt it was. Tucking the steak knife into the back of her shorts, she had only one more corner—

  “Jackson?” She was struck completely dumb.

  He turned toward her, pivoting her Remington 870 Super Magnum pump action away from her mom. Thank God.

  “Nicola, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You haven’t been home in days.”

  Jackson looked delirious and smelled like booze. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. He hadn’t shaved in at least a day and his clothes were… tactical.

  “Here I am, Jacks. Why don’t you slip the safety back on that baby, and we can go for a walk?”

  “Not yet. Is Cash here?” he asked, so calm and casual that the hairs on the back of her neck did the wave.

  “I think this is between you and me. Whatever it is—”

  “This is your mom?” He sounded desperate and distant.

  How to answer this one… “Jackson, listen to me—”

  He swung his gaze to her mom, but thankfully kept the shotgun aimed at her. “I’m Jackson Dale
. You must be Mrs. Garr—” He took a step from her mom and sliced a glance to Nic. “Wait, I don’t even you know your real last name. How is this possible? How could you do this to me?”

  Her mom spoke up. “You can call me Janet.”

  Jackson smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t focus. “It’s nice to meet you, Janet. You have such a lovely house.”

  “Thank you, Jackson,” she said, her face pale and eyes wide. “I’d love to have you join us for dinner. But I do have a strict no guns in the house rule.”

  “Nic and I aren’t staying.”

  Good. She could get him the hell out of the house and that gun away from her mother. “Jacks is right, mom. We’ve gotta go.”

  The stench of sweat and liquor overpowered the room. He lowered the weapon slightly but kept a finger on the trigger. She knew how ultra-sensitive that trigger was. A slight breeze on the right setting would slip it to fast action.

  “Let’s go. Nice to meet you, Janet.”

  The back door opened and slammed shut. Grumbling and laughing male voices overwhelmed the house.

  Damn it, she was so close. “Jacks. Come on.”

  Roman called out from the kitchen, cabinet doors opening and closing. “Mom, we’re starvin’.”

  Jackson’s eyes darted toward the voices. His voice slurred. “Who’s that?”

  “Just my family, Jacks. No one who needs—”

  Cash and Roman both rounded the corner and cursed. Her dad slammed into the twosome when they pulled up short.

  Jackson leveled the shotgun on the men and pleaded. “He’s here. Nic, you didn’t say Cash was here. Nic, why didn’t you tell me? Nic?” With a pendulum swing, Jackson swayed unsteadily, the shotgun now aimed at her. “Nicola?”

  All hell was about to break loose. She could feel it. She didn’t know which way it was coming from first, but they all teetered on the edge of disaster and watched to see who jumped first.

  Nicola drilled her eyes to Jackson, mentally pleading with him. In her peripheral vision, Roman, Cash, and Dad flicked glances past her and Jackson. Another round of hair-raising gut instinct took over.