“All in,” she said with a bright smile.
“Let’s do this,” he said, taking her hand, picking up her cat’s crate and heading out the door.
He had no idea what they were entering into, but he’d keep his woman safe. He’d give everything he was to keep her safe. She glanced back at him as she got in the waiting vehicle and he saw it in her gaze.
She would follow him into hell and hold his hand while they burned together. What she didn’t understand yet was that he’d protect her with his dying breath.
No half measures. All in.
Hooah.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lea Griffith began sneaking to read her mother’s romance novels at a young age. She cut her teeth on the greats: McNaught, Woodiwiss, and Garwood. She still consumes every romance book she can put her hands on, but now she writes her own.
Lea lives in rural Georgia (GO DAWGS!) with her husband, three teenage daughters, two dogs, three cats, and a betta fish named Coddy George. If she isn’t running her teenagers hither and yon, you’ll find her at her keyboard giving life to the stories in her mind. She loves all genres of romance, and nothing is off-limits when it comes to her muse. For more information, please visit www.leagriffith.com or follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LeaGriffithWrites and/or Twitter @LeaGriffith.
BEAUTY AND THE MARINE
TINA WAINSCOTT
CHAPTER 1
The beast was about to meet beauty. That’s how Griff Tate saw it, anyway. And not just a pretty lady but a freakin’ model. The only people who saw his scarred face were his family and the hunting or fishing parties he took out on Tate acreage. Many were vets like him who didn’t flinch at his war wounds.
Griff opened the fridge in the guest lounge, known as the “Mud Room,” and poured a glass of iced tea. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, the only noise besides the country song playing on the intercom system. The entire two hundred acres of his family’s property had been reserved for this special op, so the footsteps had to belong to Chase Justiss.
Griff leaned into the hallway and greeted the man he’d only met twice before. While recovering in the hospital, Chase had offered him a job with his so-called private security agency. Griff had respectfully declined, wondering why Chase wanted to hire a man who might scare small children. Or pretty women. Didn’t matter. Griff had already decided on holing up at his family’s “resort,” offering skills he’d been honing since he was knee-high to a mudbug. Then, last week, Chase had called him again, remembering the particulars about Griff’s remote sanctuary. For this op, MUD’N HUNT, unofficially dubbed the “Redneck Playground,” was the ideal locale. So were Griff’s qualifications to instruct on hunting and handfishing.
Chase, in his linen slacks and expensive dress shirt, could have passed for a movie star. He held himself with the kind of confidence Griff once possessed.
Chase pumped Griff’s hand. “Good to see you, my friend. Looks like we’re all set.”
“Yep. Most of my family headed down to Disney World.” Even though this part of the op wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, Chase didn’t want to take any chances. “They sure appreciated the free vacation playing in the civilized world, as they call it. My cousin and uncle are on call to help as needed.”
“I’m happy to give them a break.” Chase gestured behind him. “The film crew is in the parking area, and two of my J-Men—my operatives—are doing recon. Risk and Julian brought their fiancées, capable women who will play the models competing with Kristy.”
Kristy…the beauty. And the reason for this op. The Atlanta-bred model had drawn the attention of a vicious stalker whom the police were unable to identify.
Griff had signed on without hesitation when Chase told him why he wanted to rent the property: to stage a phony “reality” show about models competing to be the best redneck chick in order to lure the stalker. Griff acting as Kristy’s on-camera guide, now that had taken some convincing.
“You ready to rock and roll?” Chase asked.
“Oorah,” Griff said, what his Marine comrades shouted before heading out on a mission.
A memory of their faces flashed in his head, their cocky smiles after a dirty joke shared in the Humvee. Right before the explosion…
“You all right?” Chase asked, the man’s eyes assessing him.
Note to self: do not use military jargon. You’re not in the military anymore.
Griff gave a stiff nod. “I’m aces.”
Chase clapped him on the back as they headed toward the front door. “There won’t be any danger while you’re in the scene. No one knows where we are or what we’re doing except for a couple key Atlanta Police personnel. They’ll come in once we’ve released the commercials, and you’ll be long gone by then.”
And staying at his cousin’s place in Tennessee. “Not worried about danger, sir. In fact, a little excitement would do me some good. I’m fine with sticking around.”
“Only if you’re an employee.” Chase arched an eyebrow. “I do have room for another J-Man.”
Griff stepped outside and waved his arm to encompass the woods surrounding the lodge. “This is where I belong.” Hidden from society. Out in nature, where the animals didn’t care that he was scarred.
Away from the kind of beautiful women like the one who stood with the film crew talking about the camera she held. But Griff’s gaze was hardly on that fancy camera with the foot-long lens. It was riveted to the tall woman with the straight blond hair and lithe figure. When she spotted him and Chase, she handed the camera back to the man next to her and walked over. Griff waited for her eyes to settle on his face, ready for the flinch. Everyone had some kind of reaction, though most tried to hide it. She didn’t even blink as she approached, but her light blue eyes gave away a smidge of pity.
Chase said, “Kristy Marsden, this is Griff Tate.”
She was clearly making an effort to keep those gorgeous eyes on his and not let them drift over his ruined face as she held out her hand. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
Her fingers slid over his palm before connecting in a handshake. Her touch was gentle, probably deferring to his condition. He firmed his grip to let her know he wasn’t fragile. Then he released her, because her hand felt a little too good enveloped in his. “I’m happy to do whatever it takes to wrap up this sick son of a…gun. I understand this was your idea?”
“The concept of a setup was. Chase helped me disappear after Eye, the name my stalker uses, broke into my apartment and attacked me. For eight months, Eye couldn’t find me. I guess that pissed him off.”
“So he threatened your friend.”
Kristy nodded, guilt pushing her mouth into a frown now. “Aisha didn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess. I should have known he’d figure out a way to monitor my Facebook and Instagram pages. He saw a lot of pictures and selfies with me and my bestie.”
The beautiful black model had received a threatening call: if he couldn’t find Kristy within the next two weeks, he would shift his attention to Aisha. He was probably betting that Kristy wouldn’t let that happen.
“Chase and I went to the police, but we were faced with the same problem we’ve had from the beginning. We don’t know who this guy is. That’s when I came up with the idea of luring him to someplace where we could at least photograph him and maybe capture him. The police were trying to figure out the logistics.”
Chase shook his head. “But we don’t have time to wade through the red tape. The compromise is that we’re starting the op now with their guidance. Detective Burns will bring in his team if they get clearance in time. If not, he’ll at least come when we’re ready to pull the plug and make sure it’ll stand up in court.”
“And Kristy will be out of here before the first ad airs,” Griff confirmed.
“Back in my safe house,” she said with a sigh.
Chase put his
hand on Kristy’s shoulder. “Which must feel like a prison, though I know you’re too kind to say it in front of me. Once we get this guy, you and Aisha will be able to live in the open again.”
Live in the open. The words resonated. Not something Griff could ever do. It wasn’t fair that this gentle woman had to hide, to live in fear. Griff, well, he’d signed on for that shit the moment he put his signature on the enlistment paperwork.
Kristy flattened her hand against her collarbone. “Living out loud,” she said on a sigh. “After almost two years of hiding, I can go shopping and have lunch with friends and see a play!” She spun around but came to an abrupt stop. “I’m almost afraid to hope that it can be over. I used to think he’d lost interest when I hadn’t heard from him in a week or so. But he always came back.”
Now Griff could see the vulnerability and weariness Kristy masked with her brave smile. Probably the way she’d masked her horror at his scarred skin, his misshapen nose, and crooked mouth.
“We’ll get him, one way or the other,” Chase said. “If the police don’t get approval in time, I have a decoy to pose as Kristy. My former Navy SEALs will secure the scene.”
Griff caught Kristy looking at him, though she quickly averted her gaze. “Let’s head on over to the bog.” He winked at her as best as he could with the tighter skin around his right eye. “You ready to get muddy?”
She gestured to her black shorts, bathing suit top, and the net shirt she wore over it. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He figured she’d be prissy and maybe a bit superior, and some part of him was relishing seeing her all covered in mud. But damn, her trepidation and determination twisted him up inside. Be careful, Griff.
He hadn’t been remotely interested in sex since the explosion. The warning in his head seemed unwarranted.
“Let’s head over and situate the film crew,” Chase said. “Then we’ll bring in the supposed competition.”
Griff pointed at a large SUV. “Take that one. It should fit the crew and equipment.” He tossed a key ring toward Chase.
Chase caught it with a flick of his wrist. “Kristy, why don’t you ride with Griff? Since you’re going to be working together, you can get to know each other.”
Kristy brushed a strand of hair from her face as she gave Griff a nervous smile. “You’re going to have your hands full. I’ve never fished or hunted or anything. I’m a total city girl.”
“I’ll ease you in, though I’m supposed to create some commercial hooks. Which, unfortunately, means putting you in some uncomfortable situations.”
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I trust that you’ll be as gentle as possible.”
And just like that, he wanted to do his best to keep her safe and comfortable. By necessity, they would be in close proximity these next few days. He pulled the numbness that cocooned him close just in case he got any crazy ideas.
“We’re ready,” Chase called out. “My J-Men will give me a shout when they’re done and meet us there.”
“Just follow me.” Griff led Kristy to the mud-splattered truck with big tires. He stepped up on the foot rail, opened the door, and held out his hand to her.
She allowed him to help her up to the first big step and settled in, looking like a flower in a pile of rubbish. The truck was fairly new, but it already sported the wear and tear of numerous hunting and fishing parties.
He closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. As the engine started rumbling, Florida Georgia Line blared from the radio, and he quickly turned it down. “Sorry ’bout that. I keep it loud when I’m by myself.” To keep the thoughts at bay. The memories.
“It’s fine.” She was already strapped in with the seat belt, her hands searching for a place to perch.
“You like country music?” He headed down the dirt road, checking to make sure Chase was behind him.
“Not particularly, but I don’t dislike it either.”
He kept the volume low, wishing he could amp it up and fill the awkward silence. In the corner of his eye, he could see her glancing his way, then turning toward the window. He hated that the scarred side faced her. All she could see was the beast.
“It’s all right to look at me,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…”
“I know. It’s hard not to look. Kinda like when you pass a car crash. You just can’t help yourself. Took me a while to get used to it myself.”
She narrowed her eyebrows at him. “You’re not a crash.”
Damn, was she taking him to task? He smiled, feeling the tug of the right side of his mouth. “It was just an analogy.” But it wasn’t, and by her silence, she wasn’t buying it.
Even faced forward, he could see her surreptitiously glancing his way. He remembered the gruesome sights in Afghanistan, things you didn’t want to look at, tried not to, but did anyway: severed body parts, exposed brains, the dead lying in the streets. He didn’t want the sight of him seared into her head the way those images were seared into his.
“If you want, you could sit in the back,” he offered. “If that makes you more comfortable. I know I’m not a pretty sight.”
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened as she obviously searched for the right—the diplomatic—thing to say. “Do you seriously think I would sit in the back just so I wouldn’t have to see you?”
“I wouldn’t blame you.”
“You think I’m that shallow?”
“I didn’t say that.” He glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure Chase was still behind them. His eye, surrounded by scar tissue and what was left of his eyebrow stared back. “Hell, I don’t like looking at myself, and you’ve got the ugly part of me facing you. I’m just offering you an escape, is all.”
“I’m not sitting in the back. And your face isn’t that bad.”
“I look like a monster, but thank you. It’s not just the unsightliness. I’ve been through all this with my family and the few people I’ve seen. They see me and feel bad. Sad.”
She gripped the door handle as the truck hit a rut and lurched. “We always see ourselves as worse than we are.”
“Not when you’re beautiful.” He smiled. “Why, I couldn’t find one flaw on you, even if I tried.” He let his gaze sweep over her creamy complexion, her golden hair that fell in a cascade over her shoulders. He drank her in, the perfection he could never have. He could see no sign of the knife attack she’d suffered. Thank God the psycho hadn’t cut her face.
Her hand went to her collarbone. “There’s plenty.” She believed that, too, by the shadow that crossed her eyes. “I never set out to be a model, you know. I fell into it. I wanted to be an editor. After college, I got a job at a New York City publisher. But I had college loans to pay and I wasn’t making a lot of money as an editorial assistant. You have to work your way up. My roommate’s sister was a model, and when she told me how much she made, I think I salivated. She got me an appointment with her agency, they signed me on, and pretty soon I was too busy to work at the publisher.”
He navigated around a large, mud-filled rut, so that his side took the brunt of the dip. “What made you return to Atlanta?”
“My parents. They were freaked out about my moving to New York to begin with. When I—quote—‘abandoned̓ my career, and my degree, they were worried for my safety and disappointed in my choices. So I compromised. I continued modeling but moved back to relatively safe Atlanta. Ironic, huh?”
He wanted to know more, but he rolled up to the parking area next to the mud bog. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
She turned to him. “I’m sorry that happened to you, too.” Not pity in her eyes but a kindred sense of life’s unfairness. Of overcoming tragedy.
He felt an inflating sensation in his chest, as though his heart was reaching toward her. He pulled it back and swaddled it in that cocoon. “Hang
on a sec, and I’ll help you out.” She might be perfectly capable of getting out on her own, but something inside him wanted to make this as easy as possible. Wanted to take care of her.
She’s not yours to take care of. That’s why Chase and his Navy SEALs are here.
Kristy leaned forward, her hair spilling over her shoulders in a curtain, and Griff braced his hands at her waist and lowered her to the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to release her. He stood there like an idiot for the longest three seconds of his life—well, the second longest—before he made himself drop his hands and look to where Chase and the crew were stepping out of their vehicle.
He had to force himself to head over to the men, though he couldn’t help glance back to see her following. She was taking in that big, delicious mud puddle, with her lower lip pulled between her teeth again.
“Does anything live in there?” she asked. “Like fish or other slimy creatures?”
“Just the bog slugs. But they’re real easy to pull off if they latch onto you. Kidding,” he added quickly at the horror on her face. “No, this is a man-made bog. Nothing in there but a lot of lost egos when the big talkers get bogged down.”
“I’m not actually going in there, right?”
The slight, effeminate cameraman aimed his lens at Kristy and whispered, “Go ahead and tell her what she’s going to do.”
“You’re gonna get muddy,” Griff called to her, unable to hide the grin or the teasing of his voice. He pointed to three Jeeps beneath a stand of maple trees. “And you’re gonna do it while driving one of those.”
“I’ll be driving?”
“Yep. You and the girls are going to race in this bog. We run races here all the time, and lots of women bring their own trucks or ATVs.” He usually watched from the judging grandstand, unwilling to join in. He’d only been home for ten months. He wasn’t ready to face the weekend crowds, especially since they included a lot of locals. They waved and shouted up to him, but Griff talked to them from a distance. This would be a nice taste of mud racing, like dipping his toe in.
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