by Leslie Jones
His heart did a slow flip.
“Hey,” she said, voice rough from sleep.
“Hey, yourself.” He wiggled his fingers, and she obliged by twining her hand into his. He tugged, and she shifted onto his bed next to him until they were nose to nose. “How long have you been sitting there?”
She shifted her shoulders, looking away, which meant she’d been here since he’d gotten out of surgery. “Let me go get the doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I need you.”
That coaxed a smile out of her. “I’m all yours. How do you feel?”
“Like I was shot in the chest.” Her smile disappeared, and he kicked himself for the thoughtless response. “Heather, really, I’m going to be fine. That’s what the doctor said, too, right?” He vaguely recalled someone in a white coat reassuring him he would make a full recovery. Heather nodded, frowning, clearly unconvinced. She slid off his bed.
“I’m at least going to tell the nurse you’re awake.”
He tightened his grip on her fingers, then reluctantly let them slide free. The truth was, he didn’t want her out of his sight. They both had come too close to death.
The room seemed dim and cold after she left. The other bed in the windowless room lay empty. He sighed, looking at the television mounted high on the wall. CNN was reporting on a mudslide in Ecuador. When a commercial came on, he let his eyes close again. He dozed until the doctor entered. He took Jace’s pulse and blood pressure and made some notes on the clipboard at the foot of his bed.
“How’s your pain level?”
“I’ll live,” Jace said. The mass of agony in his chest would ease eventually, right? The doctor gave a disapproving shake of his head and adjusted the drip running into Jace’s arm.
“I get you’re tough,” he said. “But you don’t get brownie points for suffering needlessly. I’m giving you fentanyl.”
The narcotic worked fast, and Jace felt himself fading. “Make her go eat,” he slurred.
AT THE DOCTOR’S insistence, Heather returned to her quarters on base, showered, changed, and ate. Feeling more human, she tumbled into bed.
And couldn’t sleep.
What was she doing? Everything in her demanded that she return to Jace’s side. It had taken nearly losing him for her to acknowledge how vital he’d become to her. Whatever her love meant, wherever it took her, she needed to be with him like she needed to breathe. He filled her life with color and joy, things she’d never even realized were missing.
If she stayed with Delta Force support, they could never be together. Only civilians could fraternize with military operators. An obscure paragraph in a regulation that was going to force her to make the hardest choice of her life.
Was she really willing to give up her ambitions for him? Yes, her heart sang. Not so fast, her brain countered. Following a man from military base to military base, surrounded by what she’d chosen as her career, what she loved . . . could she bear it?
No. She had to be honest with herself. To sit on the sidelines and watch while Jace put himself in harm’s way, unable to help, unable even to know where he was going or what his mission was, would be unendurable.
There had to be an answer. She frowned unhappily. The Finance guy and the woman in charge of the Research arm were both civilians. Maybe she could take accounting classes? It would be better than nothing. Or she could ask Colonel Granville to transfer her to another unit on base, and hope the Army was nice enough to move them together when it was time to permanently change duty stations.
Finally, finally, she drifted to sleep. She didn’t dream at all.
When she awoke, she felt strangely calm. At peace, because she knew what she needed to do. Four in the morning in Azakistan made it—she did some quick calculations—more or less four in the afternoon, yesterday, at Fort Bragg. She picked up the phone.
An hour later, she had a job.
Fort Bragg hosted special operations units, yes, but also the Special Warfare School. Which needed trainers. Starting next month, she would support the instructors teaching the Special Forces Operations and Intelligence Course, and would also teach the six-month Arabic language course. For whatever time Jace spent at his home base, they could be together. It was enough. It would have to be enough.
Slipping into her favorite cotton sundress, the one with the scooped neckline and yellow abstract poppies along the bottom of the skirt, she left her hair down for once, letting her natural curl give her a windswept look. Her pale pink t-strap wedges pushed her height above six feet. A swipe of mascara to enhance her eyes, and she was ready.
She knew her efforts had been a success when Jace saw her and nearly spit out the juice he was sucking down.
“Holy Jesus!” he croaked. “Wow.” His gaze incinerated her. “Come over here so I can strip that off you.”
Heather laughed. “That would earn you another week in the hospital.”
“It would be worth it.”
He flapped a weak hand, and she went to him. Without thinking, she bent down, her lips touching his. He snaked his palm around the back of her neck, opening his mouth and slanting it for better access. She leaned into him, the electric slide of his tongue against hers sending thrills down her spine. Both hands came up to frame his handsome, precious face. She traced his lips with her tongue, let him suck it into his mouth, let him nibble her chin and kiss each eye closed. His fingers scalded her skin, the rasp of calluses causing goose bumps to rise. She didn’t want to stop. “Careful of your stitches.’
He groaned. “Don’t wanna.” But he slumped back against the raised bed, tugging her down to sit beside him, looking tired. His obedience told her more than anything else how much he was still hurting.
“When did you have your last pain meds?”
His gaze softened and turned tender. “I’m okay.”
“You will be, and that’s all that matters.” The words she really wanted to say stuck in her throat. Now she was here, doubts assailed her. What was she doing? What if she was making a terrible mistake? Once she sounded the bell, there was no unringing it. What if Jace . . .
“Whatever it is, just tell me.” Worry replaced the tenderness in his eyes. His hands clenched the blanket, and he looked ready to leap out of bed. “You’re scaring me.”
It terrified her that, in such a short space of time, this man had become so critical to her happiness. She had never been cowardly about going after what she wanted, so why now?
“Heather?” Jace interlaced their fingers, tacitly offering his strength. It steadied her. She blew out a breath.
“I’m not going to take the assignment,” she blurted out.
He cocked a head at her, clearly not understanding.
“My new position supporting Delta,” she clarified. “I’m going to refuse the orders.”
Jace couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d told him she was secretly a nun. “What?”
She tried to rise, to move away from him, but he refused to let her go. “Heather? Talk to me. You can’t refuse orders. You know that.”
She swallowed hard. “I can if I resign my commission.”
The declaration lay between them. The silence stretched out past the point Heather could stand.
“Jace?”
His eyes became solemn as he looked at her. “I’m going out on a limb here—are you doing this for me? For us? So we can be together?”
She couldn’t seem to speak above a whisper. “Yes. If that’s . . . if that’s something you would want.”
He laughed, a sudden burst of air that became a groan of pain. “Hell, yeah, that’s what I want.”
Something deep inside her relaxed. “Then . . . it’s settled. I’m going to resign my commission.”
“I accept your resignation,” boomed a voice from the doorway. Heather jumped. Bo Granville leaned agains
t the doorjamb, not bothering to conceal he had been eavesdropping. Heather tried to untangle her feet to rise, but he waved her back down with a casual hand. “Sit, sit.”
Heather pressed her hands together in her lap to still the faint trembling. It was done. There was no going back now. “Thank you, sir.”
Colonel Granville guffawed. “Don’t thank me yet, missy. You haven’t heard my conditions.”
Conditions? Ultimately, he could not truly prevent her from separating from the Army. He could, however, draw out the process and make it miserable if he so chose.
“Sir, being offered the opportunity to work with Delta is a dream come true—an amazing privilege, and I recognize the compliment.” She glanced at the man in the hospital bed. “But accepting this honor would mean Jace and I can’t be together. Frankly, sir, my career doesn’t mean much if I can’t share it with him.”
“That your final word, Lieutenant?”
Heather opened her mouth and killed her career.
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and crossed his arms across his massive chest. “Okay. Get your paperwork together, and I’ll muster you out.” He rolled his mouth, looking for his cigar. Even Bo Granville wasn’t allowed inside a hospital with tobacco, lit or unlit. “But I got me a problem, kid.”
He looked at her expectantly. Heather wrinkled her brow. “Sir?”
“I visited one of my soldiers in the hospital, who was careless enough to get himself shot while he was saving the life of the President of the United States and the lives of hundreds of Americans and Azakistani civilians.” He jabbed a thick finger at Jace. “Guess what he said to me?”
Heather had no idea where the colonel was going with this. “Don’t know, sir.”
“Well, see, here’s the thing. He gave me an ultimatum. He said there was this girl he wanted to marry. He told me to find a way for y’all to be together, or he would quit my team.” He frowned at Jace, annoyance and displeasure clear. “It’s an ultimatum a man can make exactly once in his career,” said Granville. “If he weren’t one of my best officers, I’d have booted him out in half a heartbeat. But, since the Army’s spent a bucketload of money on his ass . . .” Granville yanked a manila envelope from inside his uniform jacket and presented it to her with something of a flourish.
Heather took it, not sure what it might be. She tore open the flap and pulled out several sheets of paper. As she read, her eyes widened.
It was a job description. For a civilian intelligence support role with Delta Force. She would be doing exactly what she was doing now, except she would no longer be an Army officer. And there were no restrictions on relationships between the military and civilians. She and Jace could be together.
“You game, girl?”
Instead of answering, she turned to Jace. “This is a full operational intelligence position,” she told him. “You have to understand that. It means I’ll be sent forward, in advance of Delta operations. I’ll be sent into potentially hostile areas to gather intelligence.”
Jace swallowed hard but met her gaze steadily. “I won’t lie to you, Heather. It’s going to be tough for me. I’m going to want to protect you and keep you safe. But I won’t stand in your way. I promise I’ll support your career. On one condition.”
Her heart clogged her throat. “Anything.”
“Marry me.”
Tears rushed to her eyes. Gazing at Jace, letting him see her tears, she spoke to Colonel Granville. “I accept the job, sir.” She leaned toward Jace. He met her halfway, capturing her lips as surely as he had captured her heart.
When she surfaced many moments later, she realized they were alone. And together.
Did you enjoy Leslie’s alpha heroes and strong heroines?
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BAIT
Coming April 28, 2015 from Witness Impulse!
About the Author
LESLIE JONES has been an IT geek, a graphic designer, and, much like her heroine, an Army Intelligence officer, bringing her firsthand experience to the pages of her works. She’s lived in Alaska, Korea, Belgium, Germany, and other exotic locations (including New Jersey). She is a wife, mother, and full-time writer, and splits her time between Scottsdale, Arizona, and Cincinnati, Ohio.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
NIGHT HUSH. Copyright © 2015 by Leslie Jones. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JANUARY 2015 ISBN: 9780062363145
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062363152
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