Man Law

by Adrienne Giordano

  Man Law

  By Adrienne Giordano

  Security Consultant Vic Andrews lives by his Man Laws:

  Never mess with your best friend’s sister

  Never get caught

  Never get attached

  But he can’t deny his irresistible attraction to Gina Delgado, a young widow with three kids and plenty of strings attached. Even so, having a physical relationship doesn’t mean they’re “in a relationship.”

  Gina lost her husband to tragedy; she is not getting emotionally involved with another man in a dangerous profession. Sleeping with Vic is just stress relief.

  Until one of Vic’s assignments goes wrong and the target selects Gina and her kids for revenge. There’s nothing Vic won’t do to protect Gina and the children—the family he realizes, too late, he wants. He’ll accomplish his mission but will he have lost his only chance at true love?

  84,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  I feel as though it was just last week I was attending 2010 conferences and telling authors and readers who were wondering what was next for Carina Press, “we’ve only been publishing books for four months, give us time” and now, here it is, a year later. Carina Press has been bringing you quality romance, mystery, science fiction, fantasy and more for over twelve months. This just boggles my mind.

  But though we’re celebrating our one-year anniversary (with champagne and chocolate, of course) we’re not slowing down. Every week brings something new for us, and we continue to look for ways to grow, expand and improve. This summer, we’ll continue to bring you new genres, new authors and new niches—and we plan to publish the unexpected for years to come.

  So whether you’re reading this in the middle of a summer heat wave, looking to escape from the hot summer nights and sultry afternoons, or whether you’re reading this in the dead of winter, searching for a respite from the cold, months after I’ve written it, you can be assured that our promise to take you on new adventures, bring you great stories and discover new talent remains the same.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

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  Dedication

  For Dad, who taught me what it means to never give up. I miss you every day.

  Acknowledgements

  First off, a big whopping thank-you to my husband, Larry, for his love and support while I chased my dream. The journey hasn’t been easy, but we got there together. I love you. To my mom for being an outstanding example of everything a mother should be and for always believing my time would come. And for the rest of my family, thank you for always giving me a place to land when my brain needs a break.

  John and Mara Leach, my dynamic duo, you have been with me from word one. John humored me when I wanted to bend the law in ways it shouldn’t go and Mara always proofread the results. Thank you for traveling this wonderful road with me. To my amazing friend, Theresa Stevens, there are no words for your generosity. You continually push me to do more with my writing and I am so very grateful for your presence in my life. To my critique partners, Tracey Devlyn, Kelsey Browning and Lucie J. Charles, who talk me through the chaos in my head, I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I hope I never have to find out. Milton Grasle, thank you for always being available to brainstorm my action scenes. You help me give them the extra zing that I’d never figure out on my own.

  I also owe a thank-you to the members of the Lethal Ladies critique group for the early help on this story and the title idea.

  Gina Bernal and the team at Carina Press, thank you for giving my challenging hero a home. I am grateful for the opportunity.

  Finally, to my son, who makes me laugh on a daily basis and inspires me to do more. Thank you for the hugs during the tough times and the endless joy you bring to my life. I love you.

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Man Law: Never mess with your best friend’s sister.

  “Ah, shit.” Vic Andrews, butthead supreme, listened to the churn of the ocean’s waves. Or was it his life skittering off its axis?

  Gina laughed that belly laugh of hers and he couldn’t help smiling. He extracted himself from her lush little body and rolled off. The St. Barth sand stuck to his back. Yep, they’d worked up a sweat. Salty sea air invaded his nostrils and he inhaled, letting the moisture flood his system.

  Jesus Hotel Christ.

  What had he been thinking? He’d been heading back to his room after closing down the resort’s bar and there she was, the girl—er, woman—of his dreams, crying on the beach. No condition for her to be in after witnessing her brother’s marriage to the love of his life.

  Vic didn’t mention the fact it was 3:00 a.m. and she was alone on a secluded beach where any drunken asshole, like him, could have at her. Although technically he wasn’t drunk. Buzzed maybe. Big difference. Besides, they’d been at a wedding. Buzzed was allowed.

  Gina moved and he finally turned toward her. “I’m—”

  “No, absolutely not,” she said. She swiped at her curly mane of dark hair. Her face gave away nothing, but that meant squat. Gina knew how to hide bad moods.

  The whoosh of the ocean lapping against the shore distracted him and he stared into the blackness.

  “What did I say?” he asked.

  “You were going to apologize. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Apologize? Him? “I’m not sorry.” He touched her arm. “Are you?”

  Please don’t say you’re sorry. Please.

  That would be all he needed. He’d just freakin’ obliterated the sister rule Mike had invoked nearly a million—maybe two million—times. The sister rule was Man Law, and Man Laws were about the only rules Vic followed.

  He only wanted to check on her, and before he knew it, voila, the clothes were off, the condom was on and they were humping like bunnies right there on the beach. At least no one saw them. All the well-meaning people were asleep.

  Gina brushed sand from her legs and stood to straighten the sliplike dress he’d shoved up over her hips. The silky fabric glided over her curves, and the activity in Vic’s lower region made him groan. A thirty-five year-old mother of three, and she was killing him. He should be ashamed.

  Screw that.

  She was right there. Right there. And, because he’d probably never get the opportunity again, he should grab her and—

  “I’m not sorry,” Gina sa
id. “Not about the sex. I’m sorry about other things, but this, I loved.”

  Vic retrieved his pants and stood. Gina and her honesty. Good or bad, she just put it out there and didn’t worry about the repercussions. He guessed it came from losing her husband at the age of thirty-one. She had nothing to lose.

  “I need to go,” she said, watching him with her big brown eyes as the moonlight drenched her face. He put his shirt on. Did she have to look at him that way? Particularly when he wanted a replay.

  “Aren’t the kids bunking with your folks?”

  “They are, but you know how Matthew is. He might search for me.”

  Fifteen-year-old Matt, her eldest son, took his job as man of the family seriously.

  “Right. Okay.” Vic motioned toward the resort. “I’ll walk you.”

  Gina held up a hand. “I’ll be fine.”

  Nuh-uh. No way. “I am going to walk you. It’s late and you shouldn’t go by yourself.”

  Hell, she shouldn’t have been out here alone in the first place, but he knew she’d tear him a few new ones if he said it.

  She stood there, peering up at him and—God—she was fantastic. She had a classic oval face with high cheekbones and a nose he knew she hated. For over two years now he’d imagined running his finger over the little bump in it, but never dared. Every inch of her seemed perfectly imperfect.

  Blown sister rule.

  Gina shoved her fingers through her curls. “We screwed up. I can’t believe it. We’ve been so good.”

  “We didn’t screw up. We had a simultaneous brain fart. Again.”

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “Anyway, walk me to the edge of the beach. You can see my room from there and can watch me go up.”

  “Gina, what’s the big deal? Nobody will know we just—” he waved his hand, “—you know.”

  “It’ll be better if you don’t walk me. With his mental radar, Michael is probably waiting by the door. On his damned wedding night. I swear he’s a freak. He should stay out of it.”

  Oh, boy. She was getting fired up. Maintenance mode. His friend needed protection. They were both ex-special ops, but they didn’t stand a chance against all five foot three of Gina.

  “Mike loves you. He’s trying to protect you.”

  “From you? You’re his best friend.”

  Vic ran his hands over her shoulders. “Yeah, but I’m not right for you.”

  “The circumstances aren’t right. That’s true, but he doesn’t have to keep reminding me.”

  “He does it to me too.”

  They strolled to the edge of the beach, and he squeezed her hand. Don’t go. Just stay for a while. All he wanted was more time with her. Not a lot to ask.

  On tiptoes, she brushed a kiss over his lips. A little hum escaped his throat. What the hell was that?

  “I had a great time,” she said. “You were just what I needed.”

  “I think a ‘but’ is coming.”

  “We can’t do this again.”

  Yep. Not good. “I know.”

  She pulled her hand from his and hauled ass toward her room. Away from him.

  He waited while she went up the stairs and she stopped in front of the window of the room next to hers. A minute later the door opened and Matt came out. He turned and, apparently using his Spidey sense, looked straight at Vic.

  And we’re busted.

  Chapter Two

  Man Law: Never get caught.

  Six Weeks Later

  “You got me,” Vic said when Lynx picked up the phone.

  Whose number had he just called? Knowing Lynx, he probably talked some unsuspecting blonde into letting him use her phone. His old army buddy now worked for the State Department and was completely paranoid about their calls being traced. When Lynx wanted to speak with Vic regarding sensitive matters, he sent a fax—a fax for God’s sake—from the FedEx store down the street from his D.C. office. Vic would call him back from a secure line—in this case a prepaid cell phone.

  “You’re in a jackpot.”

  Vic sat straighter in his desk chair. “Translate.” Lynx had a flair for drama, and being in a jackpot could mean a whole lot of bullshit things.

  “The job you did for us last month.”

  A car horn honked from Lynx’s end. He must be outdoors. “The Israel thing?”

  “Yeah. The brother is pissed at you.”

  “There’s a shocker. The sheikh should be pissed at someone.”

  Namely Vic, who’d been hired by a secret U.S. government agency to take out the sheikh’s little brother, an Osama wannabe. Mike, the CEO of Taylor Security, liked to call them off-the-books jobs.

  “No,” Lynx said. “He’s pissed at you. Your cover is blown.”

  Vic’s shoulders went rock hard. He’d need a sledgehammer to get them loose again.

  “What the fuck, Lynx?”

  “Hey, I’m just giving you rumor mill here, but it’s coming from a good source. My contact at the agency accidentally let me find out. The sheikh threw money at someone who threw money at someone, and now he’s got your name.”

  He shot out of his chair, every muscle in his body seizing. “Son of a bitch. Who gave me up? There can’t be six people who knew about that op.”

  “Please. With the kind of money this guy can toss around, anyone can be bought.”

  Vic grabbed a pencil from the desk, snapped it in half. “Did I get set up?”

  “No. Someone got greedy.”

  “My ass is in the wind?”

  “Yeah. Watch your six. Gotta go.”

  Vic punched the button to end the call. He’d wipe the phone clean and destroy it later. No harm in being careful. He stared out his corner office window. Just a businessman enjoying the June sun while the Chicago lunch-hour crowd swarmed the lakefront path. People everywhere.

  Deep breath. Work the problem. When he’d taken the Israel job, the agency told him it was a solo mission. He’d sneak into the country as a tourist using a fake passport, and if he got into trouble, no one would pull him out.

  He didn’t get into trouble.

  He’d completed his mission.

  For his country.

  And now his cover was blown. Sure sounded like a setup.

  The hammering in his ears started, and he stacked his hands on top of his head. This could be crap. Lynx said it was a rumor.

  Vic hustled down the hall to Mike’s office and found him at his desk. Early in Vic’s army career, he and Mike were Rangers together and they had a history of saving each other’s asses.

  “I got a problem,” Vic said as he stormed into the office and shut the door behind him. He took three deep breaths. Focus.

  Mike snapped his head from his computer and stared. His dark eyes had an intensity that drove the ladies wild, but these days he was a one-woman man.

  “You heard me right. I got a problem.”

  Vic had maybe uttered those words three times in the fifteen years he’d known Mike. Each time, someone had been injured or dead. Mike leaned back in his swanky leather chair. Felix Unger’s contemporary twin could have decorated this place. Everything in chrome, with sharp angles and fancy art. One lone stack of paper sat neatly bundled to the left. Mike didn’t go for mess.

  “What’s up?”

  “Remember the job I did last month? Lynx just called. My cover is blown. The sheikh spent big bucks to find out who I was.”

  Mike squinted. “Those fuckers gave you up?”

  “One of them, yeah.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “Hell no. And it’s too damned bad, because I’d like to break his fucking knee caps.”

  Pain shot through Vic’s jaw and he lightened up on the teeth grinding.

  “Okay,” Mike said. “We can assume they’re gonna come after you.”

  Vic stalked the office. Crap. Sweat beaded down the sides of his face and he swiped at it. He was losing it. Fear was not something he allowed himself, but this rattled him. When was the la
st time that happened? How about never? The last few months had been this way, though. Something gnawed at him, eating away his insides.

  Five years with Delta Force ensured he could take care of this problem, but he didn’t want to do it in a city that had welcomed him when he left the military.

  “We got a whole army of guys here ready to cowboy up,” Mike said. “We could even bring a few back from overseas.”

  They had at least five hundred men in the Middle East protecting U.S. officials.

  “Hell, I trained most of them and you want to put them on me? I can take care of myself.”

  Fuckin’ A, bubba. Maybe Vic’s ego was getting in the way, but at thirty-six years old he’d had a whole career of spec ops training. Offering him protection came as an insult.

  Mike shook his head. “Hey, asshole, did I say you couldn’t? All I’m saying is we put some muscle around you. Eyes in back of your head.”

  Eyes in the back of his head. Mike had been his eyes for years now. Wasn’t he the one who’d given Vic a job when he needed one? Now they were partners. Mike handled high-end security, and Vic handled the civilian contractor assignments. The neutralizing-terrorists stuff.

  “There’s no credible threat yet. I’m supposed to tie up man power for a maybe?”

  Mike shrugged. “But you think it’s solid, or you wouldn’t have come in here.”

  He had him there, and Vic scratched his head. The hammering in his ears went bye-bye, leaving behind the wilting end of the adrenaline rush.

  “I brought a shit storm on us.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Are we having a moment here or what? Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s see what happens. Meantime, put a team together and I’ll sign off.”

  “We may not need them, but I’ll put something on paper.”

  “Right. Let’s get someone to sweep your car and your apartment building. Just to be safe.”

  Vic nodded. “Already on it.”

  “Watch yourself,” Mike said.

  This sucked. He should fight this alone, but knew if this guy came after him, he’d need a team. The gut shredding began. People, maybe his friends, were going to die.

  And it would be his fault.

  Gina had three checks for her brother to sign, one of which was for a company credit card maxed out by an overseas operative. Michael wouldn’t be happy.