by KB Winters
Finn
Special Forces Book 4
By
USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author KB Winters
Copyright © 2017 BookBoyfriends Publishing
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Finn - Special Forces Book 4
Copyright and Disclaimer
Reading Order
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Free Book!
More From KB Winters
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Army Wives Reading Order
Colton
A Soldier for Becca
Lucas
Miles
A Soldier For Christmas
Finn
Chapter One
Alyssa
If the weather was any indication, it was going to be a long ass night. The last thing I felt like doing was going to a formal event. Even if it was for charity. I’d rather be curled up by the fireplace, wearing something warm and fuzzy, and soaking up a good book. Instead, I was wearing an evening gown, a full face of makeup, and enough hairspray to keep Tresemmé in business for another decade.
Rafe wasn’t helping matters. Ever since we’d merged onto the highway, he’d been bitching about the cold, the traffic, the way his new hand-stitched loafers weren’t fully broken in and pinched when he walked.
It was man cold times ten and I’d about had it.
“I don’t even know why you drag us to these things,” I finally snapped, glaring out the windshield.
Rafe didn’t glance my way, but from the flex of his fingers around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, he’d heard me.
I drew in a quick sigh. “I just mean, if neither of us wants to go to these events, what’s the point? Why can’t you cut them a check and call it a good deed well done?”
He made a disapproving sound—a low growl that came up from the back of his throat. “It’s for charity, Alyssa.”
I grit my teeth to avoid rolling my eyes. He hated that.
“We go to make an appearance,” Rafe replied, in a too-nice, false voice. “People expect us to be there.”
“No,” I said, twisting in my seat. “They expect you to be there. I’m just—just—”
Rafe shot me a dark look. “You’re just what?” He was daring me. Just waiting for me to give him one more thing to set him off. “What are you, Alyssa?”
The words trophy wife came to mind, but that would require a fat diamond ring, something I didn’t currently possess. Rather than stare at my naked finger, I returned his icy stare. “I’m just an innocent bystander.” I didn’t bother to hold back the tartness from my voice. “Most of these people don’t know my name, and they’re just waiting for us to walk away so they can gossip and bitch about us.”
“Yes, it must be awful,” Rafe said with a grunt. “It must be sheer torture to wear something that isn’t covered in dog hair and slobber for a change!”
A stab of betrayal twisted together with a flurry of rage. Emotions coiled up into a ball of bile that settled in the depths of my stomach. I righted myself and went back to staring out the windshield. I wasn’t even going to give him the courtesy of a response. He was being a total asshole and I already knew there was nothing I could do or say to pull him out of his angry mood. It was better to duck and cover and wait for it all to blow over.
“Nothing to say to that, huh?” Rafe taunted, his lips curled back in a sneer.
“I refuse to talk to you when you’re like this.”
He scoffed. “Get over yourself, Alyssa. You can take one day away from the mutts to spend with the rest of the world.”
“Stop!” I snapped. My fingers dug into the roots of my perfect updo. I wanted to tear out the pins and scream. Maybe that would get his attention. I’d never tried a full Hulk-out before. I glared at his smug face. “Just stop. I don’t want to argue with you. Not now.”
His foul mood finally made sense at least. He was pissed off because I’d gotten home late from the animal shelter and had to rush through getting ready. If there was anything Rafe hated more than the bitter winter cold, rush hour traffic, or pinched toes, it was tardiness. I sighed. If I tried to argue or defend, it would only turn into a nasty argument. And I didn’t need to walk into the charity dinner with smeared mascara and a runny nose.
He didn’t push it this time. For once.
Rafe Wade was part long-term boyfriend, part human wrecking ball. To say he was a man on a mission would be a gross understatement. His drive, ambition, and high standards and commanding presence were a few of the characteristics that drew me to him two years ago when we met at an entrepreneurial conference in Denver. He was the main presenter and after the main presentation was completed, there was a cocktail hour. That night, Rafe was in his element. Charming, charismatic, in charge. Everything I wanted in a man.
He asked me all about my business Hearts & Paws, a social media website built to connect shelter pets from all over the country to people searching to adopt a companion. We talked for hours, about our respective businesses at first, but after a while, things took a turn for the flirtatious, and by the end of the night, long past the time the other attendees had left, Rafe took me upstairs to his plush hotel suite and we spent the rest of the weekend in his bed.
Something I’d never done. Not since…Finn Clarke. My first love—and subsequent heartbreak.
But that was ancient history.
In the two years since Rafe and I met in Denver, he’d continued to kick ass and take names with his company, Juniper Investments. He earned a fiercer reputation as being a shark in the boardroom and his star was on the rise both in Atlanta, and across the country. He was always flying somewhere and even when he was home, he routinely clocked eighty-plus hours a week at his chic downtown office. At first, the time apart bothered me and I constantly pined for more of his time, but in the last six months or so, that had all faded. I was busier with my own thriving business and with him away, I had more time to spend with friends or at Hearts & Paws first full-fl
edged pet adoption center just outside of the city center. I’d accepted that Rafe wasn’t ever going to be some doting, breakfast in bed, kind of boyfriend. And I’d made peace with that. He checked off the other boxes that I valued more than romantic.
But still, it grated on me that on our one night together, he was dragging me to a charity dinner and auction. I had no interest in eating a five-course meal and then sticking around through a three-hour auction, listening to people ramble on about classic cars. Yawn.
My night would be better spent at home with a bottle of wine, Netflix, and my electric foot spa.
I glanced at Rafe out of the corner of my eye as he took the exit off the freeway. He really was a beautiful man, in a harsh, sharp way. Angled, high cheekbones, dark hair that he kept cropped short on the sides, longer on top, although it was slicked back tonight. He was an impeccable dresser and took up way more than fifty percent of our shared walk-in closet in our downtown penthouse. Well, his downtown penthouse. I’d lived there for over a year and still didn’t have any real claim to it.
We stopped at the first light off the exit and the clicking of the low-profile sports car grated on me, as if it were a nagging voice, replaying the terse words we’d exchanged. Surrendering, I reached over and set my hand on Rafe’s upper thigh. The soft touch startled him and he jerked his neck to look at me. I offered a small smile. “I’m sorry I was late tonight. But let’s not let that ruin the whole night, okay?”
He considered me for a moment and then gave the slightest incline of his head. “You’re right.”
My smile widened and I reached across the seat to give him a quick kiss.
The light changed and he untangled from me to shift into gear and cruise through the intersection.
We arrived at the venue within ten minutes, just within the fashionably late window. Not that Rafe would see it that way. He handed off the keys to the valet, set his hand on my low back, and steered me inside.
Then the schmoozing and bullshitting began.
I plastered on my best smile, made the rounds at Rafe’s side, and tried to restrain from lunging at one of the tables, grabbing a fork, and stabbing my own eyes out. My efforts were better spent trying to wiggle my way to one of the open bars in the decked-out space. It was a glorified warehouse, but over the likely concrete floor, a thick carpet had been rolled out. Tables dotted the huge area, fully laden down with fancy china, gold flatware, crystal glassware, and luxe linens. Then, on the outskirts of the large room, vintage cars were arranged on display. I assumed they were the ones that would be auctioned off as soon as the cocktail hour and dinner had concluded.
Yay. Not.
A server in a black dress and sleek chignon passed by with a silver tray holding half a dozen flutes of champagne. I broke away from Rafe as he chatted up some senator and snagged a glass. By some miraculous show of self-control, I managed not to down the entire thing in one pull. Damn, it was top shelf shit too.
I’d definitely need a refill by the end of the night.
Glass in hand, I scurried back to Rafe’s side before he could get cranky. The senator smiled politely at me and his wife leaned closer. “And what is it you do, Alyssa?”
“I run a website that helps potential families find adoptable pets and then coordinates with participating shelters to help the new families and pets meet. It’s called Hearts & Paws. I also just opened an animal shelter here in Atlanta, by the same name.”
The senator and his wife both gave me the polite, I-don’t-give-a-fuck, smile. “Quite an ambitious woman you have there, Rafe,” the senator said.
I bit the insides of my cheeks. I even know how to drive and balance my own checkbook. Imagine!
Rafe laughed and looped an arm around my waist. “Alyssa keeps busy, that’s for sure. Now, if I could just keep her from dragging all those mangy mutts home with her.”
They all laughed. I gave a tight smile and excused myself to the ladies’ room before my blood pressure hit critical levels.
I took the long way to the restroom, snagging another champagne on the way, and tried to get myself back under control. Heat flooded my cheeks. Why do I even bother?
I ducked into the bathroom and plopped into one of the oversized lounge chairs that always seem to find their way into fancy women’s restrooms. I’d been told the men didn’t get such luxury. All I knew was that the champagne was good enough and the chair comfortable enough that I may never leave. Wonder what the senator and his snooty wife would think of that? Rafe would sell it well, tell them I had some bad chicken the night before, or something equally plausible to spin the situation to his favor. He was charming enough that he could even make food poisoning sound glamorous.
I sighed and dropped my head back against the chair, counting the ceiling tiles. Nights like this one were getting closer together. In the beginning, we’d have a rough night here or there where we’d butt heads over something, but we always worked it out and moved on. Lately though it had been a near weekly occurrence. Which was alarming considering that we usually only saw each other once a week. Regardless of how I tried to fight it, nights like this one always got me thinking about one thing…
Finn.
Three years had passed since the day he smashed my heart into a thousand pieces, and yet, most of the time, I still felt like I was stitching the whole damn thing back together again. The really sick part of it was that even after he broke my heart and flew off into the sunset—literally—without me, I still returned to him when things were rocky with Rafe.
Which meant I’d been thinking about him a lot lately.
I scoffed. There was no point to it. I didn’t even know where he was anymore. The last time I saw him, he was shipping out with his army unit to go to the Middle East and fight in the seemingly never-ending war. I knew he’d made it home in one piece. His unit was featured in the local papers and I’d been greeted by his face six months later, when I was at a Starbucks getting my daily dose. He was alive, presumably well, and despite it all, I hoped he was happy.
My eyes squeezed tight as an all-too-familiar burning sensation kicked in. Not now, Lyss. Not tonight.
I downed the rest of my champagne, already deciding I needed a third, and then pushed up from the comfy chair in search of the next one. On my way out of the bathroom, I hung back, flattening myself against the wall as I waited for a gaggle of women dressed to the nines, to pass on their way into the bathroom. A thick cloud of perfume gagged me as they pushed past me, and I was still sputtering as I stepped back out into the main event. When my eyes stopped watering, my vision cleared and locked onto a sight that sent the empty champagne flute slipping right from my fingertips.
There, standing next to a gleaming, cobalt blue hot rod, was Finn-freaking-Clarke.
Chapter Two
Finn
“Damn, this baby’s giving me a stiffy. What about you, Clarke?”
I grinned at Miles’s assessment of the ’68 Shelby GT-500 sitting on a raised platform between us. The car was fucking sweet. No doubt about it. But before I could answer, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the warehouse. I turned my head toward the sound and all at once, as though some supernatural force sucked all my senses away, I could no longer hear, see, or think about anything but the pair of startled blue eyes staring at me from across the room.
Alyssa Archer.
My Alyssa. And damn, she looked good.
My pulse kicked into a frenzied pace and became the only thing I could hear, even as two cater-waiters swept in to help clear the shards of glass at her feet. She was saying something, frantically apologizing, but her eyes remained locked on mine even as she spoke to the men helping her. She couldn’t look away.
I realized a half-second later, I couldn’t either.
It had been three years, but suddenly, the past came back to me, as vivid and realistic as yesterday. My small apartment at Fort Benning. Alyssa wearing her cutoff jeans and a little white tank top, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She couldn�
�t believe it. Neither could I. Those final words came from my mouth, but it was like being a ventriloquist’s dummy. I was parroting some speech from hours of agonizing recitation. I didn’t want to say them. But at the same time, I had to. I knew it, and at the time, I’d convinced myself that she’d understand too. The years that passed had shown me otherwise.
I’d blindsided her. Broke her heart.
And my own.
Before my brain could kick into action and form a plan, she was gone. I watched her race away from the two men in black slacks and crisp white shirts, still apologizing even as she bolted. The crowd swallowed her up and my senses all came roaring back like the crashing of a wave.
“Finn? Earth to Finn?”
My muscles jerked back to life and I turned to face Miles. He was wearing a what the hell expression and I nodded. “Sorry—uh—what were you saying?”
He arched a brow. “What do you think?” He dropped a pointed gaze at the car.
Right. Car induced boner. I gave him my best smile. “Yeah, the car’s fucking hot. You gonna buy it?”
He laughed loudly. “Naw, Penny’d have my hide.”
I glanced around the massive place, looking for any sign of Alyssa. In my mind, she was still wearing those damn cutoffs that always made me lose my breath. In reality, she was wearing a long evening gown, a turquoise color that showed off her tan and her hair had been pulled back. I scanned the crowd again.
Just like a target in the crosshairs, I found her and locked on.
Only to wish I hadn’t.
She wasn’t at the charity dinner alone. Worse, she was clinging to her date as though he were a life raft adrift in the ocean. She wasn’t looking around. She kept her eyes on her date. A tall, lanky man who kept his hand on her back, dipping so low that my hands clenched together in fists. Regardless of how much I hated to see her tucked against him, I couldn’t force myself to look away, even when Miles suggested going to look at the next ride.
“I saw a sick ’67 Z-28 Camaro back by the bar. I’m gonna go check it out. Looks like the crowds thinned a little.”