Subject: Sergeant Finn McAllister, K-9 handler
Mission: Go undercover...without getting under the covers!
Rumor has it someone at the local honky-tonk is supplying meth to airmen, and K-9 handler Finn McAllister will find out exactly who’s responsible and shut them down. But when the petite, blonde bar owner gets all up in his face—and kicks him out—Finn’s blood burns...with raw desire.
Tucker Blackburn brings out the devil in Finn, and he can’t resist going undercover as her new boyfriend. The sparks between them are part fury, part arousal and all heat. But Tucker’s been hiding the truth about a key piece of evidence...and if Finn isn’t careful, he might fall for his number one suspect!
“I don’t follow directions very well...”
“How’s that working for you, soldier?”
“At the moment?” Finn’s hands settled lightly on Tucker’s hips. “Jury’s still out.”
She refused to take a step back.
He liked that confidence. It was sexy as hell.
Finn flashed a wicked grin and bent his head, his mouth settling over hers, a warm demand. But instead of quenching the thirst he’d been fighting since he met her, that one taste only made him crave more. Damn, this wasn’t smart. He was supposed to be finding a drug dealer, not kissing the hell out of a potential suspect.
Pulling back, he stared into her dazed eyes, unable to fight the curl of satisfaction that rolled through his belly. He’d done that to her. With one kiss. One mind-blowing kiss.
Tucker yanked out of Finn’s arms and a bolt of anger flashed through her eyes as her palm connected with his cheek. The crack of skin on skin echoed through the empty bar...
Dear Reader,
I’ve loved every minute of writing my Military K-9 series. Not only was the research fun—can you say adorable dog videos?—but I’ve learned so much. The stories of bravery and sacrifice have tugged at my heartstrings over and over again.
For Finn McAllister, working with dogs was a side benefit to his real calling—getting drugs off the street. The tragic loss of his sister sent his life on a trajectory he hadn’t quite expected, but he’s still grateful for every day. On the other hand, Tucker Blackburn has been afraid of dogs since she was six. And she isn’t happy at all when Finn and Duchess stroll into her bar. What starts out as a clash of wills soon ends with both of them discovering more than they expected about themselves and each other.
Military Working Dogs dedicate their lives to serving our country just like every other US soldier. But once they no longer serve a purpose, their journey back to a normal existence and a family who can love and support them is often difficult. However, there are organizations that provide funds and programs to assist in this transition. If you’re interested in learning more, please visit missionk9rescue.org.
I hope you enjoy reading Finn, Tucker and Duchess’s story! I’d love to hear from you at kirasinclair.com, or come chat with me on Twitter, @KiraSinclair.
Best wishes,
Kira
Kira Sinclair
Rescue Me
Kira Sinclair writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. A double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm...not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. Writing about sexy heroes and strong women has always excited her. She lives with her two beautiful daughters in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at kirasinclair.com.
Books by Kira Sinclair
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The Risk-Taker
She’s No Angel
The Devil She Knows
Captivate Me
Testing the Limits
Bring Me to Life
Handle Me
SEALs of Fortune
Under the Surface
In Too Deep
Under Pressure
Island Nights
Bring It On
Take It Down
Rub It In
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For the dogs that have graced my life, shown me unconditional love and given true companionship—Bridget, Tippy, Ming, Jack and Emma. Gone, but never forgotten.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Christmas Seduction by Daire St. Denis
1
THE KENTUCKY ROSE looked like a good time.
Or what he was supposed to think was a good time. But that wasn’t what had brought Finn McAllister out to the popular honky-tonk on a Friday night.
He could still see the drawn face of Sergeant Freeman lying in that hospital bed. The pallor of his skin as he’d explained where he’d bought the drugs that had landed him in the ER. From a woman at this bar.
The man had a long road ahead of him. Not just dealing with the physical aftermath of ODing and the legal consequences that would come with it, but the emotional issues that had the airman turning to illegal drugs for relief in the first place. It was a story Finn had seen all too often over the years.
In this instance, Freeman had been lucky. Three other airmen and a handful of civilians had lost their lives.
You’d think, after years of seeing the toll drugs could take on a person, Finn would have gotten used to it. That would never happen. Each time felt personal.
Maybe because each time reminded him too much of his sister, Bethany.
So tonight he was at the Kentucky Rose, hoping to find something that would help him shut down the pipeline of meth being funneled straight to the soldiers it was his job to protect.
The bar was fairly new, only open a little over a year. But according to the guys he’d talked to on base, it had generated a lot of buzz.
Gravel crunched beneath the heels of his boots. Not the hand-tooled leather boots he’d likely find inside, but the well-worn combat boots that had served him well most of his career. Broken in and comfortable.
Someone opened the door, and loud music spilled out into the night. Beside him, quiet as a shadow, Duchess, the military working dog he’d been handling for almost eight years, pricked her ears and scanned her surroundings.
Finn didn’t go anywhere without Duchess, but tonight she was more than just along for the ride. Trained to scent drugs, she had a job to do. Just like he did.
“Let’s get this over with,” Finn murmured, giving her the signal to heel.
The mingled scents of beer, women and something ea
rthy hit him as he walked through the heavy front door. The bar was huge, a big old wooden structure on the outskirts of San Antonio that, from the outside, looked like a run-down barn. But the inside...
The place was packed, even early on a Friday night. And not just with the wild boys from Lackland Air Force Base down the road. Men and women of all ages were mixing together. Laughing, dancing, sharing drinks.
“Hey, sugar. Can I get you anything?”
The redhead stared up at him with vibrant green eyes. If she was a day over twenty-one then he’d eat Duchess’s harness for breakfast tomorrow. Dewy, Southern-girl innocence clung to her like the scent of roses that swirled around him when she moved close.
Finn took the barest step away.
“A table and the darkest beer you have on draft.”
The redhead twittered, countering his move by inching closer and settling a hand on his arm. Dammit. He really wasn’t in the mood to get hit on by his waitress tonight. What he wanted was a dark, out-of-the-way corner, so he could sit and watch.
“The beer I can handle, but the table might be a problem. You should have gotten here a half hour ago if you wanted someplace to sit.”
Shifting, Finn moved so that the waitress’s hand fell away. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
“You do that,” she said, flashing a megawatt smile that probably won her a lot of tips. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it wouldn’t get her anywhere with him.
Heading toward the back wall, Finn found an empty spot in the shadows. It would work. A good place to observe.
Off to the side, a rowdy group crowded around a mechanical bull. They let out a raucous cheer as a huge dude got bucked off, hitting the mats with a resounding thud.
On the other side of the bar, the dance floor was packed. Couples were bumping and grinding to the country music blaring from speakers strategically placed all around. And was that...? Yes, it was. The mirrored ball revolving lazily over the floor was shaped like an armadillo.
That pretty much summed up the place. Quintessentially Southern honky-tonk tacky.
Reaching behind him, Finn found Duchess’s head and gave her a good scratch behind the ears. A German shepherd, Duchess was one of the best dogs he’d ever had the pleasure of handling.
Her demeanor was so calm, especially when working. Even as a puppy, she hadn’t been rambunctious like the others in her litter. She could scent the smallest amount of marijuana, the tiniest packet of cocaine lodged in some of the most insane cavities on the human body. She was a machine, and a very well-behaved one.
Several feet away, a group of rowdy thirtysomethings began to gather their things from a table. Finn took several steps in that direction, intending to claim the space while he had the chance. He’d been on his feet since before dawn this morning, called by his commanding officer when word of Freeman’s OD came in. His entire body ached, something he was hoping a beer would fix.
From the other direction, Finn noticed a group of college kids eyeing the same table. Not on your life.
Picking up the pace, Finn was intent on reaching it first, but a warm, golden voice had him halting in his tracks.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
It didn’t help that the words were accompanied by the most compact little dynamo slipping right in front of him and blocking his path.
Her hands were balled on lush hips, blond hair cascading in curls down her back. The deepest blue eyes he’d ever seen flashed at him, full of outright anger.
Over her shoulder, Finn watched the competition grab the chairs around the table, pull them out and plop their infantile butts down.
This was the most irritating end to a day full of shitty experiences.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The tiny blonde, who tried to compensate for her five-foot-nothing height by wearing the most insanely impractical heels he’d ever seen in his life—even though she was still over half a foot shorter than he was—crowded into his personal space. Her finger landed in the center of his chest and she poked.
Her gaze darted behind him, landing on Duchess. Fear flashed across her expression before she tamped it down.
Great. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally Finn encountered people who were afraid of dogs. And while Duchess was one of the sweetest, gentlest animals he’d ever met, there was no getting around the fact that she was big and could be intimidating. That impression wasn’t helped when people learned she was a trained military dog.
Yes, she could take down bad guys, but only on command. Not that this woman wanted to hear that right now.
“You can’t bring a dog into a bar. Get him out of here.”
Finn cocked his head and for several seconds seriously considered picking her up and moving her out of his way. He bench-pressed more than she had to weigh. “Her.”
“What?”
“My dog is a her. Just because she’s big doesn’t mean she’s male.”
Shaking her head, the sprite of a woman said, “She can be male, female or in the process of gender reassignment for all I care. She doesn’t belong in my bar. Get her out of here.”
Her bar?
Finn let his gaze travel down her body again, a little more intrigued this time.
It fit. The impractical shoes were a perfect complement to the armadillo spinning lazily overhead. Her jeans were well worn and molded to her body. She might be small, but it was obvious she had curves in all the right places. And the black T-shirt she wore, emblazoned with the logo of a local craft beer, emphasized that fact.
As she leaned closer, the pressure from her finger increased. That was really beginning to irritate him.
“You have to leave,” she reiterated.
He could argue with her—actually, Duchess was legally allowed to be on the premises. But considering his purpose for being at the Kentucky Rose in the first place, it probably wasn’t a smart idea to piss off the owner. Yet.
So he’d try to cajole.
“I just ordered a beer.”
“Too bad. Your dog isn’t welcome.”
Or maybe not.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Finn stared down at her. “My dog is a highly trained military working dog. She’s a decorated war hero. She’s a hell of a lot better behaved than half the people in this tacky excuse for a bar.”
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Finn realized he’d made a tactical error. She might have been angry before, but now she was downright pissed.
Her skin flushed a deep pink. Her eyes turned glacier, but somehow still had the ability to burn straight through his skin.
“Tucker.” Someone yelled the name out across the crowd. He didn’t realize the voice was addressing the woman in front of him until the brute attached to it appeared behind her. You could’ve fit her inside the man’s clothes twice and had room to spare. But the guy was all frickin’ muscle.
Not that it particularly mattered to Finn. He’d fought guys bigger and badder than this one and come out on top.
“You need help with this guy, Tucker?” he asked, keeping his gaze trained on Finn.
Tucker. That was interesting. He’d never have pegged her for a Tucker, although something about the name fit. Unusual and dynamic, just like the woman.
“Nope. He and his dog were just leaving.” Her eyes flashed a warning. For some strange reason, he really wanted to ignore it, just to see what she’d do.
But out of the corner of his eye he saw several more men who were obviously the brute’s backup slide into place on either side of him. Finn’s mother hadn’t raised a complete idiot.
“All right.” Finn held up his hands. “Duchess and I will go.” For now.
But they’d both be back. Because the Kentuc
ky Rose was the first real lead in finding and stopping the meth that had cost them several soldiers in the last two months.
He wasn’t about to walk away from that.
* * *
BLOWING A BREATH that fluttered her bangs over her eyes, Tucker watched the door slam shut behind the soldier and his dog.
It was a shame he’d been such an arrogant asshole—bringing a dog into a bar—because he was a gorgeous one.
She didn’t mean to study the way his jeans clung to his tight ass as he’d walked away. Or the bulge of his strong biceps beneath the tight edge of his T-shirt. Or the sexy stubble that covered his cheeks and did nothing to hide the dimple in the center of his chin.
There was no question, the man was rough around the edges. She hadn’t needed him to tell her he was military, she’d known it before he opened his mouth by the way he held himself. That alert, prepared-for-anything way his gaze had moved around the room.
She’d grown up with an airman, her dad the only real family she’d ever had. And while she loved him, she also knew damn well she wanted nothing to do with any more soldiers. She’d had her fill of the uncertainty and fear that came with living that life.
Which possibly made opening a bar right outside an Air Force base a little like selling water on the edge of the desert. A smart business decision, but terrible for her personal life, considering the majority of the men she met were ones she refused to consider dating.
Maybe she should’ve opened the Rose somewhere else, but San Antonio was familiar...comfortable. It was the first place in her entire life that had felt like home. She loved the Texas twang in everyone’s voices. The Southern charm of the people who inhabited the city. The green landscape against the wide open skies. Hell, she even liked the humidity in the summer.
She’d spent enough of her life moving from one base to another, never really feeling like anywhere was home. Or being left behind while her only living parent was in the middle of a war zone. Growing up with that stress and uncertainty...nope, not interested in courting more.
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