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

  “Santiago,” Caterina said and the name struck a discordant chord with his cousin.

  “Rob Santiago the cop killer. Seems they reduced his sentence if he agreed to participate in the Wardwell study.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Mick cursed and glanced at Caterina. “You saved my life. You and Lil.”

  She twined her fingers with his. “I couldn’t lose you.”

  Mick tightened his hold on her hand and faced Ramon once again. “Cat didn’t kill Wells.”

  “Caterina’s been released on my recognizance, but I suspect they’ll be dropping all charges shortly,” Ramon advised.

  Mick’s major mission had been accomplished, but something still gnawed at his gut. “Did you get Edwards and Morales?”

  Ramon looked away, unable to hold his gaze and Mick repeated, “Did you, Ramon?”

  His cousin jiggled his hat up and down in his hand before finally meeting his gaze. “Edwards and Morales have disappeared along with the remaining four patients in the gene therapy program. They’ll need lots of space and equipment. It’ll make it hard for them to hide for long.”

  Mick thought about how much money Edwards had paid him and Franklin. How much they must have offered Mad Dog to eliminate all of them. With that much money they could hide for a very long time.

  “Those families need closure. Someone’s got to find the missing patients.”

  Caterina echoed Mick’s sentiment. “Someone will.”

  Ramon nodded. “Definitely. And soon. Trust me.”

  Mick glanced at Caterina and knew she understood. After Ramon excused himself, he squeezed her hand and said, “I’m glad things worked out for you.”

  A confused look crossed her face. “That’s sounding a bit too much like a brush off.”

  Mick shrugged. A big mistake as pain lanced through his side, but he bit back a groan and said, “You and Liliana are safe now. You’ll be able to go back to your regular life.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  Now it was his turn to be confused. “Your music is your life.”

  Caterina nodded, pulled her hair back from her face, and trained those stunning blue eyes on his face. “Music is a big part of my life, but I’ve found something else I want in my life, too. Something that makes it complete.”

  Mick’s heartbeat did a funky beat that registered on the monitors, drawing Caterina’s attention to the machines. “You okay? Should I get a doctor?”

  “Actually, if I’m the something else you want, I think you should go get a priest.”

  Caterina narrowed her eyes and examined his face.

  “A priest?” she repeated.

  Mick allowed a slow grin to spread across his face as he said, “Well, I’ve either died and should get last rites or I need to make this relationship more permanent before you change your mind.”

  Caterina chuckled and shook her head, sending her long dark locks shifting with the motion. “Not what I would call a romantic proposal.”

  “I love you, Cat. Heart and soul. Flesh and bone. Every part of me is yours.”

  Caterina stood and bent over him, her lips barely an inch from his. “I love you, Mick. You are the music of my heart and I never want to be without you.”

  She closed the distance and kissed him, her lips warm and mobile against his. The intensity of the kiss growing until a cough sounded from the doorway, yanking Caterina away from him.

  Caterina jerked upright and turned, but slipped her hand back into Mick’s.

  His mother stood at the door, bracketed by two men who could only be his father and brother since the resemblance was so strong. Liliana had called them as soon as they knew Mick was out of the woods, but it had taken some time for them to return home from Chicago.

  From the worry etched on his mother’s face, hearing the news about Mick’s injuries had clearly taken a toll on her.

  “Mariel,” Caterina said and walked toward the woman, took her hands in hers, and offered a reassuring squeeze. “He’s feeling better than he looks.”

  “Good, because he looks like shit,” said the man she had surmised to be his younger brother.

  “Mi’jito, watch your language. Caterina this is Antonio.”

  “Tony will do,” he said, a broad welcoming smile on his face. “Are you Mick’s girl?”

  Mick’s girl, she thought and shot a half glance over her shoulder at Mick before returning her attention to his family.

  “Actually I’m Mick’s fiancée, that is if you approve,” Caterina said and watched as surprise flickered across the faces of the three.

  It was his father who finally mustered that shock and spoke up. “Welcome to the family, mi’jita.”

  Sins of the Flesh: Epilogue

  One month later

  The summer sun beat down mercilessly and not even the tinted windows on the SUV could fight back its assault. The heat in the interior of the vehicle had been steadily growing as Morales sat there, waiting for them. Slowly baking while the three of them were probably off somewhere cool.

  He drove his thoughts away from the heat. Ignored the trickle of sweat down the side of his face as he told himself that they were bound to arrive soon.

  It would be time for Ms. Shaw to have another plasmapheresis treatment and a crisp hundred paid to one of the orderlies had confirmed that she would be arriving today.

  As a black Jeep pulled into the parking lot for the hospital, Morales tracked its passage to an empty spot at the far side of the lot. He held his breath as he waited for the occupants to emerge and was not disappointed.

  Caterina Shaw slipped from the vehicle along with a handsome Latino man. Carrera, he supposed since he had never encountered the man in person.

  The couple met at the back of the Jeep and embraced. Shared a hungry kiss before joining hands and walking together toward the door to the hospital.

  As they neared the entrance, the automatic doors swooshed open and a young woman exited the building. Petite. Wearing a lab coat and badge which identified her as one of the hospital personnel. Her dark good looks, so similar to the man with Shaw, identified her as family.

  Beneath the canopy of the hospital’s entrance, the three embraced, happiness and love radiating from one and all.

  Sickening, Morales thought, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Itching to rush out and grab Shaw. Finish what he had started.

  But not today, he thought as the clueless trio walked into the hospital together, believing themselves safe. Believing that the nightmare was over for them, only . . .

  Morales started the engine, cranked up the air conditioning and drove away, his smile as chilly as the air coming from the vents of the SUV as he thought, “It’s only just begun.”

  —The End—

  About the Author

  Caridad Pineiro

  NY Times and USA Today Bestseller Caridad Pineiro is a Jersey Girl who just wants to write, travel, and spend more time with family and friends. Caridad is the author of nearly 50 novels/novellas and loves romance novels, super heroes, TV and cooking. Caridad writes dark and sexy romantic suspense and paranormal romances for those who live to love on the edge. Her sweet, but still naughty side, Charity Pineiro, writes contemporary romances packed with emotion and humor. For more information on Caridad/Charity, please visit www.caridad.com or www.rebornvampirenovels.com. You can also find Caridad/Charity on:

  Twitter at @caridadpineiro

  Facebook at www.facebook.com/Caridad.Author

  Pinterest at pinterest.com/caridadpineiro

  Goodreads at www.goodreads.com/Caridad_Pineiro

  Caridad also sends out a newsletter to her friends! To subscribe, please visit CaridadNews.

  Additional Books by Caridad Pineiro

  STRONGER THAN SIN

  TAKE A CHANCE Military Romance Box Set

  JERSEY GIRLS Contemporary Romance Box Set

  AT THE HEART’S COMMAND

  A Place Called Home, Book 2

  by Patricia McLinn


  At The Heart’s Command: Chapter One

  “What the hell is this, Grif?”

  Colonel John Griffin Junior looked up just in time to see the bear-like figure of Brigadier General William Pulaski slap a sheaf of papers on the desk of his Pentagon office.

  “That appears to be my request to take my accumulated leave, starting as soon as possible, sir.”

  “You’re damned right that’s what it is! What I want to know is why? Why in Sam Hill would an officer who’s pegged to join the White House liaison team next month request this leave?”

  A rumbling bass would have fit Pulaski’s build. Instead nature had doled out a high, light voice. He made up for the lack of lower notes with volume. Plenty of volume.

  “And not just a regular leave – an extended leave since we both know you’ve been storing up time like a squirrel expectin’ winter!”

  Grif could try to tell the general his reasons, but he hadn’t reached the rank of colonel by being suicidal.

  “I have the time, sir,” he said without emotion. “I’d like to take it now.”

  General Pulaski gave him a long look that Grif returned. The older man broke the stare, sighed, then dragged the visitor’s chair close, so the desk seemed as much his as Grif’s, and spoke in – for him – a softer voice.

  “As long as I’ve known you, Grif, you’ve taken tough assignments, but smart tough assignments. Always advancing. No ties, no entanglements. Just like your father.”

  Grif’s hold tightened on the pen he’d been using to sign letters. He said nothing.

  “You have a promising future – hell, more than promising.” The general rubbed both hands across his bald skull. “But with this leave... What about after you’ve used up this time? White House liaison isn’t going to stay open waiting for you, you know.”

  Grif met the dark eyes boring into him. “Then I’ll take the next tough assignment available.”

  “If time to think this over might make you change your mind...”

  “I’m not going to change my mind, sir.” Grif accepted that this might not be the right decision – certainly it wasn’t for his Army career, and it also might not be right for reasons that had nothing to do with the army – but he was sticking to it.

  Pulaski glared. “Take your damned leave, then. I hope there’s plenty of wine, women and song every damned night, because you might as well have a good time before you put your career in the – ”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The general abruptly rose and strode out, followed by a fading trail of profanities.

  Grif wondered idly how many degrees hotter those profanities would have turned if the general had known that instead of wine, women and song, there would be an eight-year-old boy, a ten-year-old girl and one woman.

  None of whom could ever be his.

  “Lieutenant Shaw,” Grif called out the door Pulaski hadn’t bothered to close. “The general forgot some papers on my desk. Take them to him. And be sure they don’t go astray.”

  * * *

  Ellyn Sinclair straightened the final pillowcase, took a clothespin out of her mouth, clipped it over fabric and line, then bent for the emptied basket. The Wyoming breeze would dry this laundry fast and for free. Up here behind Ridge House the breeze didn’t stir dust, which made the climb worthwhile. She scanned the sheets flapping peacefully.

  Even if her dryer fund wasn’t needed to fix the car, she wouldn’t have used a dryer on such a perfect day, an oasis of warmth in Wyoming’s unpredictable April. Although it would be nice to have the option. Of course it would be nice to have a number of other things, too.

  Ellyn raised her free hand and let the breeze float clean, crisp cloth against her palm. There was one worry she didn’t have – that she’d overcompensate for her children losing their father by spoiling them with material things. Although she would make it up to them. With the most secure, loving home she could fashion. Standing on her own two feet.

  Sometimes in the gray hours before dawn, she would admit she hadn’t totally banished worries about such matters as Meg and Ben bearing permanent emotional scars. But more often she reminded herself of one particularly pithy lecture from Kendra, who as both neighbor and friend, had pointed out the danger of self-fulfilling prophecies, expounded on the resilience of the human spirit in general and of Ellyn’s children in particular, and wrapped up by extolling the effective double-whammy of love and common sense.

  That prescription had certainly made these past six months much better than the previous six. Although... Had Ben been subdued? That question had popped into her mind after the kids went to bed last night and had intruded several times this morning at work, while laying out ads for The Far Hills Banner. She’d watch him more closely for that tonight.

  Ellyn pivoted to start down from the height that gave Ridge House its name. But she paused at the sight below of an unfamiliar sedan in the turnaround area beside the house. Now and then strangers left the highway thinking the ranch entrance was a county road. But they usually stopped at Kendra and Daniel’s place, rarely getting this deep into Far Hills land before realizing their mistake.

  She shaded her eyes, watching a man’s erect figure emerge from the car, straighten and turn. The dark-haired man looked up toward her. She could almost imagine ...

  Her heart lurched against her ribs, hard enough, it seemed, to leave a bruise. At least on the inside.

  “Grif?” It came out a whisper. She swallowed and stared, letting her eyes be sure of what some other sense already knew, before calling, “Grif!”

  He smiled and raised his hand.

  She started straight down the hillside, not bothering with the deteriorating path, and letting the slope hurry her steps.

  A scene from the library DVD of Gone With the Wind she and the kids watched recently sprang into her mind. The moment when Melanie spots a tattered, injured soldier returning from war – her soldier – and, half stumbling, runs to him. Laughing and crying, she runs to meet her man.

  The straight-backed figure before Ellyn was definitely a soldier – even in jeans and deep green knit shirt instead of a uniform, that was obvious in the way he held himself as he climbed toward her. But she wasn’t Melanie, and Grif wasn’t her man.

  Because you have never known how to make a man yours. Not even your husband.

  Before the familiar voice in her head echoed to silence Ellyn leaned back, slowing her descent, although her heart still stumbled. Halfway down, she stopped as Grif closed the gap to arm’s length.

  “Hello, Ellyn.”

  “Grif. I can’t – this is unbelievable. What are you –? Marti and Kendra must be ecstatic. I just – ”

  Words weren’t working. She reached out to hug him the way she had a thousand times in the years he’d been such an important part of their family, when she and Meg and Ben and Dale had been a family. Only at the last second did she remember that the laundry basket, empty except for a bag of clothespins, was still tucked on her hip. That must have been why their hug felt so awkward.

  Or maybe what intruded on their friendly embrace was the separation of the past fifteen months after years of almost daily contact.

  She stepped back. He gave her space, but his arms lingered around her. She gained a few more inches of height as she backed up the hill, and his arms dropped to his side.

  “You look great, Ellyn.”

  She didn’t look anywhere close to great. She wore a T-shirt that had shrunk, topped by one of Dale’s old flannel shirts, which was big enough for the tail to flap around thighs covered in leggings bearing proof of painting Meg’s room yellow. She had no makeup on and her hair was a curling mess, as usual. But she’d learned long ago not to dispute polite compliments – acknowledging them with a quick smile, then plowing ahead was her strategy.

  “You, too. A bit of gray, I see. Very distinguished.” With teasing fingertips already touching the silver strands filtering into the thick, dark hair at his temple, she saw the lines around his ey
es deepen, as if he’d tensed. She dropped her hand. “It’s longer than you used to let it get. Relaxing military discipline these days?”

  “Missed a trim getting things squared away to leave.”

  She nodded, as if any of this mattered.

  In the past fifteen months, she’d wondered many times why Grif had disappeared from their lives, and she’d wondered when she would see him again. She had never let herself think about what the reunion would be like. If she had, it would not have been anything like this. Where was their old, easy camaraderie? Could a year’s absence kill a friendship that had survived decades?

  She pushed out more words, hoping she would stumble across the right ones. “Grif, I can’t believe this. After all the times Marti’s asked you to come visit, you’re really here. What persuaded you to finally come back to Far Hills?”

  “You.”

  She blinked. Her mind repeated the single word, trying to grasp what he meant. Before she could form a response, he was continuing.

  “You and the kids. I have some leave...” His voice, which nature had roughened with a slight raspiness, dropped to that register that said he was worried. His direct eyes searched her face. “I wish I could have been here for the funeral last year.”

  He might be ready to jump into those deep and murky waters, but she wasn’t. She kept her answer as light as possible, considering the topic. “We understood, with you in the Middle East and all.”

  He’d frequently been assigned to places where no one could reach him and that he couldn’t talk about when he returned.

  “I didn’t get word of the accident until six hours before the funeral.”

  Single-car accident, one fatality. That was the official description of Dale’s death. To Ellyn it remained a blur – from the moment Dale had driven away from the house that night, to the early-morning arrival of the state troopers at her door, and through the funeral – a surreal blur of alternating waves of pain and numbness.