Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  What was she up to? When Odelia Frank started to use her brain, frightening things happened.

  “What are you going to do.” It wasn’t a question. He’d seen her like this before. When she took down the barriers standing in her way of ferreting out terrorists.

  “First—” she turned in the doorway “—I’m going to put a For Sale sign up.” She turned her back and headed for the front door. “Then I’m going to give you a little...push.”

  He looked out the window and inwardly kicked himself for not predicting this. A reporter sat in his car, a tan Malibu.

  Cullen stood up from his chair so fast that it crashed to the floor. By the time he made it to the front door of SCS, Odie had a handwritten sign taped there and was sauntering toward the reporter.

  Cullen shoved the door wider and approached. His steps slowed when he heard her talking.

  “It’s true he went somewhere to be alone with Sabine O’Clery,” she was saying. “They stayed at Hotel Teatro in downtown Denver. Just the two of them...for days. They couldn’t get enough of each other.”

  He hissed an expletive.

  “Are they still having an affair?” The reporter wrote with a frenzy on his little notepad while the cameraman at his side filmed Odie’s smug face.

  “Oh, yeah. Things are steamier than ever between them. He just needs to tie up a few loose ends before he goes back to Roaring Creek.”

  “So, he’s in love with her?”

  Odie glanced at him with a wicked smile. “Why don’t you ask him that.”

  The camera moved to Cullen and he froze on the sidewalk a few feet away.

  The reporter and cameraman bustled closer to him.

  “Are you in love with Sabine O’Clery, Mr. McQueen?” the reporter asked.

  Envisioning millions of Americans watching this on the next newscast, the only face that really stood out was Sabine’s. If he answered no, what would that say to her? If he answered yes, what would that mean for him?

  The reporter smiled.

  Cullen swallowed the dry lump in his throat.

  Beside him, Odie smothered a giggle. She was enjoying the sight of his squirming on national television, that was for sure.

  “Are you in love with the woman you rescued from Afghanistan, Mr. McQueen?”

  All of a sudden it was so clear to him. Odie was right. He was scared and he’d run from something for the first time in his life. But running from Sabine wasn’t going to save him the way his career had from the grief and anger he’d felt watching his father dwindle away and give up on everything. Cullen didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to take his greatest risk yet and go back to Sabine.

  He looked right into the camera and said, “Yes.”

  * * *

  “Yes.”

  Sabine’s knees stopped supporting her. She plopped down onto her mother’s couch, staring at the television with a slack jaw. Cullen had just said the word.

  Yes.

  He loved her. He looked terrified, but he loved her.

  A smile flickered and died with her disbelief.

  “Are you going to marry her?” the reporter asked.

  Sabine watched Cullen say, “Yes. If she’ll have me.” And her heart melted all over itself. He sounded so certain. She put her hand over her gaping mouth.

  “Oh, my Lord, listen to him,” Mae said from behind her, incredulous. She sat down beside Sabine and together they watched Cullen pledge his love to Sabine O’Clery, the woman he’d rescued from Afghanistan.

  “Did you fall in love when you were in Greece?”

  Cullen looked dazed. “I didn’t realize how much I love her until now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Now. Just a few minutes ago. Right now.”

  The reporter chuckled, clearly amused. “What about her? Does she feel the same about you?”

  Cullen turned toward the camera. Sabine felt his unease. He didn’t like the publicity but he was using the camera to communicate with her. The realization made her weak with love for him.

  “That’s exactly what I plan to find out,” he said, turning.

  * * *

  Much later that day, Roaring Creek was teeming with media. Sabine paced inside her mother’s cabin, biting her fingernails until there was nothing left.

  She knew Cullen was in town, because a breaking news update showed him entering the building across from her bookstore, a fact the media exploited with relish.

  “You should go down there,” Mae said from beside her. “This town will never be able to rest until you tell him you love him.”

  Sabine looked at her mother, nervous and excited at the same time.

  “Go,” her mother urged. “He’s expecting you.” Stepping closer, she handed Sabine the keys to the Jeep and gave her a push toward the door.

  Knowing there was no arguing with her, Sabine left and drove into town. The throng of media sent her heart skipping anew. It looked different on television. Much more intimidating in person.

  She parked behind her bookstore and wormed her way through the crowd of people asking questions, all with big smiles on their faces, loving the hype of her romance with the man who’d saved her life. It would take too long to explain it was more than that to her. She’d fallen in love with more than a hero.

  Locking the door, she went to the front of her bookstore and opened the blinds. Cullen stood outside his building, squinting his eyes in the sunlight, made brighter by the reflection off the fresh layer of snow that had fallen. The sight of him sent a wave of anticipation through her.

  He stepped off the sidewalk and strode across the street. His long, powerful legs moved with heavy grace in a pair of faded blue jeans. His arms swung at his sides, corded muscle beneath the soft material of his black henley. His black hair waved in a slight breeze. He looked good. All man walking toward her. An American hero. And he was all hers.

  Reporters scurried like cockroaches from the back of her bookstore to the front. They swarmed around Cullen, shoving microphones in front of his face. His sure strides never faltered. He looked straight ahead, a man on a mission. She couldn’t hear the reporters’ questions, but the sound of their voices traveled through the window.

  Unlocking the front door, she pulled it open and felt a rush seeing him standing, flesh and bone, in front of her. His eyes were intense and began to smolder. Clicks from the cameras went off behind him.

  She stepped back as he entered. He closed the door without taking his gaze off her.

  “How are you?” Cullen asked, love in his eyes and voice.

  She smiled in answer. “Fine.”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Yeah.” Were they really having this ridiculous conversation while a horde of reporters waited outside to learn whether Sabine was going to marry him or not?

  “I’m sorry I left you the way I did,” he said.

  A reporter shot their picture through the glass.

  “Are you going to move in across the street?” she asked.

  He nodded and shifted on his feet, rolling from his heels to his toes. “For now.”

  His nervousness was uncharacteristic but endearing. They were getting close to The Question. “What are you going to do? I mean, for a living?”

  “I thought I’d open a mountaineering shop.”

  “Across the street?”

  “Yeah.”

  She wasn’t fooled. “That would give you good cover.” He could never remove himself from Special Ops completely. It was in his blood. “I mean, when all the publicity dies down.”

  He glanced back at the window to another camera-

  clicking flurry. When he faced forward, a slight grin creased the side of his mouth. “You think it’ll die down?”

  She laughe
d softly and he stepped closer. With one arm, he hooked her waist and pulled her against him. She didn’t have to look to know the cameras were going wild on the other side of the window. She put her hands on his chest.

  “Might as well make it worth their while,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His husky voice made her heart pound faster.

  He closed the space between their lips. She couldn’t hear the camera pings but knew they were going off outside the window. Her ears were humming too much from the impassioned rate of her heartbeat.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she said.

  “Does that mean you’re going to marry me?”

  “I’ll marry you a thousand times.”

  He grinned wider than before. “Really? A thousand?”

  “Ten thousand.”

  “In that case, wait here.”

  Stepping back, he turned to the door. Swinging it open, the click and ping of cameras went off again.

  “She said yes!” he shouted, and the crowd cheered.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Mercenary's Perfect Mission by Carla Cassidy!

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.

  You want sparks to fly! Harlequin Romantic Suspense stories deliver, with strong and adventurous women, brave and powerful men and the life-and-death situations that bring them together.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Harlequin and Mills & Boon are joining forces in a global search for new authors.

  In September 2012 we’re launching our biggest contest yet—with the prize of being published by the world’s leader in romance fiction!

  Look for more information on our website, www.soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com

  So you think you can write? Show us!

  Chapter 1

  The Wyoming woods atop the tall mountains that cradled the town of Cold Plains were just beginning to take on a fall cast of color. This worked perfectly with the camouflage long-sleeved T-shirt and pants that Micah Grayson wore as he made his way through the thick brush and trees.

  Although a gun holster rode his shoulder, he held his gun tight in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only been hiding out in the mountainous woods for two days and nights, he’d quickly learned that danger could come in the blink of an eye, a danger that might require the quick tic of his index finger on the trigger.

  Twilight had long ago fallen but a near-full moon overhead worked as an additional enemy when it came to using the shield of darkness for cover.

  As an ex-mercenary, Micah knew how to learn the terrain and use the weather to his advantage. He knew how to keep the reflection of the moonlight off his skin so as not to alert anyone to his presence. He could move through a bed of dry leaves and not make a sound. He could be wearing a black suit in a snowstorm and still figure out a way to become invisible.

  The first twenty-four hours that he’d been in the woods he’d learned natural landmarks, studied pitfalls and figured out places he thought would make good hidey-holes if needed. He’d also come face-to-face with a moose, heard the distant call of a wolf and seen several elk and deer.

  He now moved with the stealth of a big cat toward the rocky cliff he’d discovered the night before. As he crept low and light on his feet, he kept alert, his ears open for any alien sound that might not belong to the forest.

  Despite the relative coolness of the night, a trickle of sweat trekked down the center of his back. During his thirty-eight years of life, Micah had faced a thousand life-threatening situations, the latest of which had been a bullet to his head that had sent him into a coma for months.

  When he finally reached the rocky bluff he looked down at the lights dotting the little valley, the lights of the small town of Cold Plains, Wyoming. His brother Samuel’s town. Micah reached up and touched the scar, now barely discernible through his thick dark hair on the left side of his head, the place where Samuel’s henchman, Dax Roberts, had shot him while Micah had sat in his car. Dax had left him for dead.

  Fortunately for Micah he hadn’t died, but had come out of a three-month coma with the fierce, driving need for revenge against the fraternal twin he’d always somehow known was a dangerous, narcissistic sociopath.

  Unfortunately, Samuel was also charming and slick and powerful, making him a natural leader that people wanted to follow.

  Five months ago Micah had been sitting in a small-town Kansas coffee shop where he’d landed after his last mission for a little downtime when he’d seen a face almost identical to his own flash across the television mounted to the wall.

  Stunned, he’d watched a news story unfold that told him his brother Samuel was being questioned by the FBI and local police in connection with the murders of five women found all across Wyoming. All the women had one thing in common: Cold Plains, the town where his wealthy, motivational-speaker brother wielded unbelievable influence and power.

  Micah had immediately contacted the FBI and been put in touch with an agent named Hawk Bledsoe. The two had made arrangements to meet the next day but, before Micah could make that meeting, he’d caught the bullet to his head.

  He’d been in the coma for ninety-three long days and it had taken him another two months to feel up to the task he knew he had to do—take out Samuel before he could destroy any more people and lives.

  Which was why he’d spent these last two days and nights in the woods adjacent to Cold Plains.

  Minutes before he’d made his way to the bluff, he’d met with his FBI contact, Hawk. Hawk had grown up in Cold Plains and after years of being away from his hometown had returned to discover that the rough-around-the-edges place where he’d grown up as son of the town drunk had transformed into something eerily perfect. A town run by a group of people who others referred to under their breaths as the Devotees and their leader, the movie-star handsome, but frightening and dangerous Samuel Grayson.

  For the past two nights Micah and Hawk had met at dusk in the woods so Hawk could keep Micah apprised of what was going on in town and how the FBI investigation into Samuel’s misdeeds was progressing.

  As he thought about everything Hawk had shared with him over the last two days, a dull throb began at the scar in the side of his head. He drew in several deep, long breaths, attempting to will away one of the killer migraines that the bullet had left behind.

  He turned and started off the bluff, deciding to make his way down the mountain, closer to town. The only time he dared to do a little reconnaissance of the layout of the town was at night. He knew that if anyone caught sight of him it would be reported back to Samuel, and the last thing Micah wanted Samuel to know was that he was not only still alive but he was also here and working with the FBI to bring him down.

  As always, he moved silently, knowing that the woods held many secrets. Just the night before, he’d stumbled upon two women amid the brush and trees. Darcy Craven had fainted at the sight of him, assuming he was his brother, but the woman with her, June Farrow, had recognized that he wasn’t Samuel and had taken him to the safe house located in an area called Hidden Valley.

  The safe house and surrounding land, only accessible by hiking or helicopter, had become an important haven for those trying to escape Samuel and his

  minions. The woods weren’t just filled with those trying to escape the small town
, but also dangerous hunters tracking them down.

  Samuel had to be stopped. The words had reverberated in his head the moment he’d awakened from his coma and that thought was the driving force that got him up each morning, his final thought before falling asleep at night.

  He froze as he thought he heard a sound someplace to his left. It sounded like a baby’s cry; there for just a moment and then gone as if stolen from the gentle night breeze. He remained still, his index finger ready to fire the gun gripped tight in his hand if necessary.

  Micah wasn’t given to flights of fantasy. He knew he’d heard something. It was possible that it had been some sort of animal, but there was no way he intended to leave this area until he found the source of the sound.

  There were hunters in the woods, but Micah was one, too, and if he managed to get to one of the men who worked for Samuel, he’d turn them over to the FBI to help them build a case against the man, hopefully a case that would avenge the deaths of the five women Micah knew in his heart his brother was responsible for killing.

  The noise came again…a quick cry that was just as quickly gone. The darkness of the night seemed to press in around him as he targeted in on the area where he thought the sound had originated.

  The moon slivered through the tree branches here and there, filtering down enough illumination to be both a little bit helpful and definitely dangerous. Micah kept to the dark shadows as he made his way toward the noise.

  Somebody was in the woods, of that he was certain. He wouldn’t put it past Samuel to arrange for one of his minions to make the noises he’d heard, hoping to draw somebody out of the safe house, hoping that somebody could be taken into custody and then be forced to give up the location of the place of safety.

  His heart took on the slow, steady beat of a trained soldier as he advanced forward. He’d just stepped around a tree when he saw her. Despite the fact that she was backed into the brush, her white-blond hair served as a beacon calling to the moonlight.

  In an instant, he took in everything. Small and petite, her jeans and blouse appeared dirty and her hair was tangled with bits of leaves and brush caught in the curly length. She held a baby in a sling across her chest and a sharp, pointed stick raised in her hand.