Course of Action: Crossfire
Page 1
Two passion-filled stories from New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna and USA TODAY bestselling author Merline Lovelace!
Hidden Heart by Lindsay McKenna
After being ambushed in Afghanistan, weapons sergeant Dan Taylor promises a fallen soldier he’ll look out for his sister, Cait. But when Dan awakens wounded at a Pearl Harbor hospital, it’s Cait, a physical therapist, who’s assigned to his care. Now he must protect the woman he secretly loves from himself.
Desert Heat by Merline Lovelace
When terrorists burst into a concert hall to kidnap beautiful opera singer Riley Fairchild and an Omani prince, Special Forces sergeant Pete Winborne claims to be Riley’s husband so he’ll be kidnapped, too. Escaping the remote outpost with his heart intact is Pete’s toughest mission yet.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
Lindsay McKenna
“McKenna provides heartbreakingly tender romantic development that will move readers to tears. Her military background lends authenticity to this outstanding tale, and readers will fall in love with the upstanding hero and his fierce determination to save the woman he loves.”
—Publishers Weekly on Never Surrender
“Talented Lindsay McKenna delivers excitement and romance in equal measure.”
—RT Book Reviews on Protecting His Own
“Lindsay McKenna will have you flying with the daring and deadly women pilots who risk their lives… Buckle in for the ride of your life.”
—Writers Unlimited on Heart of Stone
Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author
Merline Lovelace
“Merline Lovelace rocks! Like Nora Roberts, she delivers top-rate suspense with great characters, rich atmosphere and a crackling plot!”
—New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney
“Lovelace’s many fans have come to expect her signature strong, brave, resourceful heroines and she doesn’t disappoint.”
—Booklist
“Ms. Lovelace wins our hearts with a tender love story featuring a fine hero who will make every woman’s heart beat faster.”
—RT Book Reviews on Wrong Bride, Right Groom
LINDSAY McKENNA is proud to have served her country in the US Navy as an aerographer’s mate third class—also known as a weather forecaster. She was a pioneer in the military romance subgenre and loves to combine heart-pounding action with soulful and poignant romance. True to her military roots, she is the originator of the long-running and reader-favorite Morgan’s Mercenaries series. She does extensive hands-on research, including flying in aircraft such as a P3-B Orion sub-hunter and a B-52 bomber. She was the first romance writer to sign her books in the Pentagon bookstore. Today, she has created a new military romantic suspense series, Shadow Warriors, which features romantic and action-packed tales about US Navy SEALs. Visit her online:
lindsaymckenna.com
twitter.com/lindsaymckenna
facebook.com/eileen.nauman
A career Air Force officer, MERLINE LOVELACE served at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to combine her love of adventure with a flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her own experiences in the service. Since then she’s produced more than ninety-five action-packed sizzlers, many of which have made the USA TODAY bestseller lists. Over twelve million copies of her works have been printed in more than thirty countries.
When she’s not tied to her keyboard, Merline enjoys reading, hitting little white balls around the fairways of Oklahoma and traveling to new and exotic locales with her husband, Al. Check her website at merlinelovelace.com or become friends with Merline on Facebook for news and information about her latest releases.
Course of Action: Crossfire
Hidden Heart
Lindsay McKenna
Desert Heat
Merline Lovelace
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
About the Authors
Title Page
Dear Reader
Hidden Heart
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Desert Heat
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Extract
Copyright
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the beginning of summer, with vacations, beachy weekends, great books to read and, in just a few short weeks, the Fourth of July. On this holiday, we pause from our normal schedules to give thanks to the ongoing sacrifices that people around the world make to bring freedom, honor and a joyful life to as many as possible.
It is a pleasure to share with you this action-packed and emotional military-themed 2-in-1 Course of Action: Crossfire (#1853), written by New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna and USA TODAY bestselling author Merline Lovelace. In this latest duet, two men must face overwhelming obstacles if they are to find—and hold on to—true love.
Do look for our other adrenaline-pumping romances from Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense out this month! In New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy’s Cowboy of Interest (#1852), a grieving sister realizes that the man accused of her sister’s murder is innocent, and is the one person who can help her find justice. Beth Cornelison’s Colton Cowboy Protector (#1851), the first book in The Coltons of Oklahoma, is a suspenseful tale of a woman fulfilling her deceased cousin’s last wish regarding her young son and who then becomes the target of an assassin. Don’t miss Amelia Autin’s King’s Ransom (#1854), a lush tale of a foreign king who must seduce—and protect—the One Who Got Away.
As always, we’ll deliver on our promise of breathless romance. Have a wonderful June and happy reading!
Sincerely,
Patience Bloom
Senior Editor
Hidden
Heart
Lindsay McKenna
Dedicated to just some of my wonderfully loyal readers, whom I love sharing my books with.
Thank you for being who you are! These are readers who all contribute to my Facebook Fan Page
or to my free quarterly newsletter, which you can
sign up for on my website, lindsaymckenna.com.
Elena Amell, Cynthia Reifel, Linda Little, Faye Farmer, Joann Prater, Lori Weber, Shelley Jensen,
Emma Metz, Dianne M. Quattlebaum, Lisa Bickley, Mary DeLeon, Jean Saucier, Betty Tanner, Pam Stack of Authors on the Air, Lucie Fleury Dunn, Sina Buckner, Shawn Leinhart, Kerrie Liddicoat (Australia),
Felicia M. Ciaudelli, Pegg S. Godsil-Coatney, Constance Roehl, June Williams (UK), Abe Koniarsky, Amarylious McAlpin, Therese Scacchi Lopez,
Robin Driscoll, Angela Rabin, Veda Funk,
Danielle Schenk-van Lujin (Netherlands),
Lisa Newman, Marcie Bryant, Julie DeLap,
Veronika Spagnolo, Debb Lavoie, Rebecca Jensen, Regan Wiard Zick, Tammy O’Holloran,
Jeanne Morris, Yrrehs You C. Lapaz (Philippines), Robin Dubach Mlckovsky, Debbie Shields,
Berkeley Metz, Cathy Casey, Maureen Wolverton, Melanie Ley, Debbie Hankins, Stephanie Hyacinth, Kay Courtney, Linda Dawson Uhrich, Starr Hill, Pamela Plessinger, Sue Peace, Cheryl Bishop,
Patricia Wheeler, Patricia Slate, Kathryn Sheets, Debbie
Hankins, Ruth A. Chestnut,
Judy Meece Kendrick, Loretta Ferris-Uszacki,
Janice Caver Burton, Jeren Touch-Werner,
Daphne S. Sampson, Reno Sweeney.
Chapter 1
“I’m hit! I’m hit!”
Ben Moore’s scream of surprise slammed into Sergeant Dan Taylor’s earpiece.
It had been an ambush in an icy area where it had snowed.
The blackness of the early December Afghan night lit up as another Taliban RPG screamed into their previous ditch position against their enemy. His Special Forces A team, comprising twelve seasoned Army personnel, had fled to an empty Shinwari village, taking refuge in a few mud and stone huts. They were outnumbered and outgunned.
Dan cursed, digging the toes of his boots into the fine, silty dirt as he hurled himself around the corner of the mud house. Ben, who was like a brother to him, lay at the opposite corner, rolling on his back, his hands jerking around. He’d been struck down by a bullet!
No! God, no! Not Ben! God, please...
As Dan skidded onto his knees, the night lit up with yellow and orange fire while another RPG landed in the house in front of them. He winced. Rocks, dirt and dust showered him, and he crawled rapidly on his hands and knees toward Ben. His ears throbbed, lost sound and then his hearing partially returned. In the light, he saw a black, shining flow spurting outward from Ben’s neck. Oh, Jesus! He’d been hit by shrapnel or a bullet in the neck. With his gloved hand, Dan lunged forward, trying to cover the torn carotid artery that was spurting blood several feet into the air. His heart was pounding, sweat stinging his eyes, his breath coming in ragged, tearing gulps.
“Lie still! Lie still, Ben!” he pleaded hoarsely, knees near Ben’s head and shoulder. Ben’s eyes were wide with confusion and shock, no doubt aware of what had happened. Ben was one of their 18-Delta combat medics. Tears mingled with Dan’s sweat, the tracks streaking down through the dust on his bearded face. Pressing his gloved hand against Ben’s neck, his fingers continually slipped in the warm blood.
A bullet snapped past so near Taylor that he could feel the heat of it against his own neck. Ben was moaning.
“Ah, God,” Ben rasped. “I’m hit...bad...Dan...bad...”
“Get your hands away from it!” Dan pleaded hoarsely, leaning close, trying to stop the artery from bleeding out. “Don’t move! Dammit, don’t move! Ben! Let me try to stop it!”
The burping ring of AK-47s filled the night air around them amid the deeper, more resonant sounds of the M-4 rifles used by the A team. Dan saw Ben beginning to lose energy, his eyes growing hooded, his hands dropping listlessly into the dirt. The human body contained approximately eight pints of blood. A wound like this could bleed a person out in two or three minutes if it couldn’t be stopped.
“Hang on, hang on!” Dan cried hoarsely. He called Captain Jamie Curtis, but he didn’t answer. Was he hit, too? Dan tried Warrant Officer Carter Jackson. No answer. Half their team was down and wounded. Help was on the way—two Apaches were thundering toward their compromised position. Would they get here in time?
Dan screamed to the comms sergeant, Franklin, to get two medevacs in here. Frantically, Dan tried to pull a battle dressing from his cargo pants pocket while holding his other hand tight against Ben’s neck. Son of a bitch! He yanked it free. Terror worked through him. The flashes from other RPGs fired in their direction made Dan feel helpless. It wasn’t something he felt often, and he hated the sensation. Ben’s blue eyes, now cloudy and less focused, met his, almost imploring. “D-dan...”
“Shut up, Ben! Save your strength! Fight! Stay with me!” he rasped, quickly fitting the thick battle dressing against his neck. If Dan put too much pressure on the wound, he’d choke Ben to death. Pressure on a wound was always what stopped the bleeding, but the neck was the most vulnerable part of a human’s body. There was no way Dan could put a tourniquet around Ben’s thick neck—he’d asphyxiate him. Dammit! Tears blurred Dan’s vision as he placed both hands around Ben’s neck, watching how quickly the white of the clean battle dressing darkened.
“D-dan...listen...” Ben whispered. He tried to raise his hand, but failed. “Listen...”
“No!” Dan snarled. “You’re going to make it, Ben! Just let me keep the pressure on it! Don’t talk!” His throat ached with pain, a lump so large, he thought he was going to choke on it. Dan saw Ben give him that look. He’d seen it hundreds of times since they’d joined the Army at age eighteen. It was that amused look, that patience he had by the truckload, as if he was a father putting up with a petulant child. In this case, him.
“Listen...” Ben whispered, forcing his fingers around Dan’s wrist. “Cait...”
Dan squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling downward toward his chest. Ben’s voice was thin...weak... God, Ben was bleeding out and he couldn’t stop it from happening. Another sob of desperation tore out of Dan and he stared through his tears at his friend. He seemed at peace now. There was no more terror in his eyes, the fight bled out of him.
“W-what?” Dan rasped, watching the clean, white edges of the now-slippery battle dressing disappear as Ben’s blood soaked through.
“T-take care of Cait for me? Don’t let her marry a military guy. Protect her? She needs your help, Dan. Be there for her—” Ben’s fingers weakened on Dan’s wrist “—b-because...I won’t be able to...”
Dan saw the life flicker out of Ben’s staring eyes. He sobbed, throwing the battle dressing away, dragging Ben into his arms, holding him, cradling him in the middle of the firefight. Dan couldn’t stop crying and calling out his best friend’s name. Ben was dead. Oh, God...Cait...Ben’s younger sister...they were so close...so close... His heart felt as though it was being torn into bleeding pieces within his chest.
He dragged Ben’s lifeless body back against the wall of the partially destroyed house. Somehow, and Dan didn’t know how, he managed to get Ben wedged in between the two broken mud walls in order to protect his body. A team left no man behind. Hearing shouts in Urdu coming toward him, he turned, grabbing his M-4 out of the fine grit and dirt, swinging it around. Rage filled him.
He screamed into his mic to Franklin that Ben was dead. Bled out. In two and half minutes a fine, damn brave man—his best friend—was gone.
Shadowy figures moved around other destroyed mud houses toward his position. All Taliban. Above him, he heard the thick whumping sounds of two Apache combat helicopters swiftly racing toward them. They were the team’s only hope of getting out of this alive.
Dan wasn’t going to leave Ben’s side. He’d make his stand here. He’d fight to keep his best friend from being taken by the Taliban. They’d strip his body, hack him up and then behead him. It wasn’t going to happen. Kneeling near where Ben lay, Dan raised his M-4 and sighted. Sweat stung his eyes, his heart torn apart by grief and adrenaline. They could all die here. The M-4 jerked heavily against his shoulder. The acrid, burning smell filled his flared nostrils.
He saw a shadow fall to the ground, screaming, his AK-47 flying out of his hands. Teeth clenched, snarling a curse, Dan partially hid between the thick mud walls, holding his M-4 steady, taking out one, two, three more Taliban troops out of the firefight.
His team was getting overwhelmed. Dan had no idea the size of the force they were facing, but it wasn’t small. His earpiece was exploding with screams, orders and calls from his brother operators. They had been ambushed! This was supposed to be a quiet night, moving along in their two Humvees and a supply truck. But it had turned into a nightmare and they were now fighting for their lives.
Dan had no idea how many others were dead or wounded. He could pick out other M-4 rifles being fired at different points around the small village. They had spread out into a diamond formation, protecting their flanks, not able to move from their positions without opening up a flank the Taliban could pour into and kill all of them.
The sawlike growl of the Gatling gun being fired from beneath the Apaches began. The rounds were dangerously close! Dan d
ucked, watching the .50-caliber rounds chunking through the empty mud homes, dirt and rocks flying into the air in all directions, now shrapnel. He heard the screams of the Taliban troops struck by them. Satisfaction soared through him.
And then Dan caught movement near the house where he knelt. The next thing he knew his right leg was collapsing beneath him. Shocked, he twisted around, lifting his weapon, firing at the enemy soldier who had fired at him. Son of a bitch! The soldier was slammed backward by the bullet from Dan’s M-4.
Dan watched the man fall like a puppet into a heap. The vibration of the Apaches told him they were immediately above him. His whole body vibrated with the sound of the combat helicopter drifting overhead, hunting the enemy. The Gatling guns on the two stalker helos were pointed away from them. The pilots had the Special Forces team identified on their TV monitor, and they now had a bead on the enemy, cutting them down like a scythe slicing through a field of ripe wheat. Dan now noticed that his leg was numb. Lowering his M-4, he slid his left hand across to his right thigh. Blood met his exposed fingers. He’d been hit!
The vibrations of the Apache’s blades pummeled his entire body like invisible fists. Dan leaned back into the wall. How bad was it? His mind swung between shock and watching for enemy. The combat helicopters were rapacious predators, hunting down the enemy with onboard infrared, sighting and killing them.
I’m bleeding out.
Dan almost laughed. Hysteria jammed into his throat. He grabbed for the tourniquet on the left epaulet of his cammies, jerking it free. He had to get it around his right thigh, above the bleed. It was an inky-black night except for flashes of light from above like bolts of lightning spewed from beneath the bellies of the hunting Apaches. Dan saw the bleed. It, like Ben’s, was spurting out like a geyser. There was no pain. Cursing, he dropped his M-4 beside him and yanked the tourniquet around his leg. They’d all been taught how to apply a tourniquet to a bleeding limb, tightening the strap enough to stop the flow.