Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redemption for Misty (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Pierce Securities Book 5)

by Anne Conley

  This all happened again, today, and Misty noticed Chris watching the poor man closely as his mouth whitened in a thin line across the bottom of his face. As he set his empty cup down and asked for a refill, his eyes followed Saul as he settled himself on a stool at the counter, not too far away.

  She had just finished refilling Chris’s coffee and was about to say something to him about giving the customers dirty looks when Mia and Jordan came into the shop with Evan and Ryan in tow.

  “Your usuals?” Misty asked perkily after hugging her friend. Mia stepped behind the counter and put on her apron, then washed her hands to work, humming softly to herself.

  Mia was Misty’s best friend. They had both survived at the hands of the same man, and then opened this shop together. Evan was Jordan’s brother and had been a silent partner in their coffee shop scheme. Misty suspected the dude had more money than God.

  “Please,” Evan said with a wink.

  Jordan and Ryan had been the ones who’d come to their rescue, running into Michael’s house where Misty had been left for dead in the garage under a pile of dirty clothes. They’d rushed in with grenades and smoke bombs and scared the hell out of everyone, but they’d done the job the cops hadn’t. She owed them both her life.

  So she gave them free coffee and muffins forever.

  The men of Pierce Securities were her heroes. All of them. And she was jealous as hell of Mia, who’d found her soul mate in Jordan.

  Without Mia, Misty would have died in that pile of laundry on the floor. If Mia hadn’t been taken by that sicko, Jordan wouldn’t have been so hell-bent on finding them.

  After they’d made the coffees and worked their way through the morning rush, Mia raised her eyebrows at Chris, still in the corner of the coffee shop.

  “Who’s the hunk in the corner? You know him?”

  Misty rolled her eyes for about the hundredth time that morning. “Yeah. That’s Chris. My new handler. He’s taking his job very seriously.” He must have heard her because when she turned, he was standing just across the counter, those blue eyes piercing her insides, catching something on fire in her belly.

  He reached across the counter. “Chris Malone. It’s so nice to meet you, Mia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Andrew.”

  Misty’s brother was another regular there; he would come in the mornings before he went to work at the survey office.

  Mia thrust her hand out to grip his. “Thanks. Wish I could say the same, but I know nothing about you. How do you know Andrew?” Her intent was obvious—she was going to dig for info. Misty just walked away. Everybody tried so damn hard to shield her from harm, but she couldn’t say a word. If she hadn’t gotten into the situations she’d found herself in almost a year ago, people wouldn’t feel the need to be so protective.

  As she listened to Chris explain the tours with her brother, and then their laughter about something she didn’t hear, Misty just rearranged muffins in the display case, then went into the back to wash up before the afternoon rush started.

  She was trying really hard not to be mad at Chris. This wasn’t his doing. He was just doing what friends did. Stupid, alpha male friends.

  Ugh.

  The reality was, if Andrew would’ve included Misty in the plans for Chris to stay with her, she might not have been so mad about it. She didn’t particularly enjoy being alone anymore and welcomed company whenever she could get it. Therapy had helped her accept the presence of others, and she now liked having a crowd around her. All Andrew had to have done was ask her and she would have chosen the dark-haired, blue-eyed Adonis who was presently standing in her coffee shop flirting harmlessly with Mia.

  But he hadn’t. He’d taken the choice away from her and it pissed her off.

  When she returned to the front of the shop, Chris was back in his corner, buried in his laptop, and Mia was tending another line of customers. Misty threw herself into making coffees, determined to forget about his piercing gaze.

  Chapter three

  A couple of days later, Chris was in the backyard, sweating his balls off mowing, while Misty was inside unloading groceries from a trip to the store she’d insisted on attending alone. Ever accommodating, Chris had come back to her house and started doing some yard work. That was part of the deal. He’d promised Crash he’d keep the yard maintained, and he was following the bastard’s written instructions, to the letter.

  Even if he would much rather follow Misty to the grocery store like a puppy dog.

  Chris was pushing the mower in precise, military lines across the grass, cutting off the top quarter inch—just like Crash had specified—in sweltering Texas heat. He’d already stripped off his shirt, and years of mowing had ingrained the need for jeans to protect his legs from flying debris, although he doubted Crash’s yard had anything as offensive as rocks in it.

  When Misty stuck her head out the back door and yelled, he cut off the mower so he could hear her. But she’d stopped when she saw him and was just staring. Licking her lips.

  Chris kept catching her watching him like that, and if it had been any other woman, he’d be all over it. Hell, he wasn’t about to lie and say he wouldn’t like to be all over this one. But she was Crash’s sister.

  Instead, he played on it, because he was just a man. And men were needy creatures. Chris would be the first to admit he enjoyed a woman’s interest. Even if he couldn’t act on this particular woman’s attention.

  “Did you need something?” He walked toward her, pulling the t-shirt out of his back pocket and swiping it across his chest, drawing her attention there. He wiped off the sweat, purposely keeping the movements slow, while her eyes tracked his hands like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. Misty gaped, and Chris couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

  “Uh, yeah… Do you want to fire up the grill and cook these? I can do them on the stove, but they’re so much better on the grill. If you’re busy, I can do it, but Andrew usually doesn’t let me near his baby.”

  She licked her lips again, still staring at his chest while she talked, and Chris almost said something but decided not to embarrass her.

  “Sure, I’m almost done with the yard.” He set the bowl of shrimp next to the grill and got it started, then went back to mowing. Misty snapped her mouth shut and grinned at him.

  “Thanks!” Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable. Her smile sucked the air right out of his lungs and sent his blood flow south. Every. Damn. Time.

  Chris had plenty of time to think about Misty, and it seemed that was all he thought about lately. He’d always found her attractive, not that he would have ever admitted it to Crash. Especially not after Crash had clocked Ace for making a lewd comment about her. Chris had just held his tongue. But he’d commiserated with Crash when Misty had been kidnapped, and the entire company had wanted blood from her attacker. Chris had thrown the party when they’d found out she was safe and the guy had been killed.

  When Chris had learned about their coffee shop—and how she used the proceeds to help other victims—another layer had been added to the package, and he’d admired her even more. She was smart and beautiful. Now that he lived with her, Chris could admit he was half in love with her.

  He watched her carefully while she worked. Sure, he made logos, worked and shit while he was there, but her smile… Jesus… It did things to him. Nice things. He was on a constant lookout for another glimpse of it. She was friendly and warm to everybody she came in contact with. She cleaned up spills with a smile and gave out free treats to kids.

  But she was still his buddy’s sister. They’d been through hell together, and he wouldn’t betray his friend by doing the things with Misty he dreamed of. Chris let out a tortured sigh as he laid the shrimp on the grill. Yeah, he would just have to keep his feelings to himself. No way would he jeopardize his friendship to try something with Misty. Knowing his luck, it wouldn’t work out, and he’d alienate his friend and end up without Misty anyway.

  But when he went inside with t
he shrimp, he smelled something that had made his cock semi-hard since he was fifteen years old.

  Baking apples.

  He took a deep breath, inhaling the cinnamon spicy goodness, and walked into the kitchen. “Something smells great.”

  Misty turned with that smile on her face, holding out a piece of flakey awesomeness for him to taste. “Thanks. Taste this and tell me what you think. I’m trying out a new apple strudel recipe for the shop.”

  He held her wrist while opening his mouth, taking the bite she offered, careful to not get her fingers. Holy Christ, did he want to. He wanted to suck all the appley deliciousness off her and watch her lips part on a gasp, see the pulse in her neck start to pound, and then he’d do so much more. But he refrained.

  Instead, the flavors detonated on his tongue in a myriad of happiness. “Oh my God. That is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Chris groaned, not only because it was, but because she’d reacted anyway. She blushed, a dark red he didn’t think would be possible with her skin tone, but she’d done it. And of course, his mind was making it dirty.

  They stared at each other, her eyes quickly filling with heat as she shifted where she stood but didn’t back away. He knew she wanted him, maybe as much as he wanted her. But he knew himself. Chris knew his feelings for her went far beyond a quick roll in the hay. As his hopes rose with Misty, he wondered if she felt the same way, or if this was just physical for her. Could she even do something purely physical after the attack she’d survived? He wouldn’t touch her again unless he knew for sure.

  Chris knew he couldn’t just fuck her and walk away. And he wouldn’t. Shit. He wouldn’t be able to. God, this was stupid. He didn’t know any of the little things about her. He had no clue what her favorite color was, her favorite movie, or if she even liked flowers. He needed to stop. Now.

  He was the one who backed up a step. “I’m going to go shower real quick, and then I’ll help out if you need me to.” A cold shower.

  He needed to get out of the kitchen before he took her over the counter, claimed her, and made her his.

  Chapter four

  Misty had planned a simple pasta dinner for tonight, since she was trying out a new recipe, but hadn’t counted on Chris being so damn hot and sweaty. Everything the man did was insanely hot. Sure, mowing the lawn in August with no shirt was normal, but looking like that? She’d nearly come unglued when she’d walked outside to ask him about grilling and saw that.

  And then she swore he’d gotten an erection from her apple strudel, judging by the bulge in his jeans. Not that she’d looked.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She loved looking at the man. He was hawtness personified. Like, if hawt were in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Chris, mowing the yard and licking apple strudel from his lips.

  Thank God he’d left to go shower before she’d done something embarrassing, like launch herself at him and lick his torso.

  Misty shook her head as the shower in his room started up. She wouldn’t picture him naked and soapy, running his hands all over his muscles. She wouldn’t.

  Instead, she would think about all the reasons it was a bad idea. His nickname was Nova, for crying out loud. Like, Nova, as in Casanova. He probably had a girl for every day of the month, without repeats. Yeah. Thinking of that was like getting doused with a bucket of ice water. She wasn’t really the jealous type, but she didn’t like to imagine Chris with other women.

  The thought soured her stomach, so she was completely lucid when he came back into the kitchen, fully dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot, with wet hair. She was totally in her right mind when she got a whiff of his shower gel, and a water droplet fell on her arm as he leaned over and tasted her sauce, his tongue licking his lips, leaving a wet trail behind. Yep.

  “What can I do to help?” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  “Uh, you can drain the pasta. Pour it in here. Mix it all up.” Yep. Totally coherent. She mentally high-fived herself for stupidity personified, and then started carrying the salad to the table.

  From where he stood at the sink, Chris said, “I think it’s cool you eat at the table every night. I like that, it’s nice.”

  “Thanks. If it were up to Andrew, he’d eat in front of the TV all the time. I don’t cook a good meal every night to have it consumed without thought while watching the news. It sort of forces him to appreciate me.” She laughed as she said it, remembering all the fights she and Andrew had had about her rule. It was the one thing she insisted on, and he’d begrudgingly agreed to do it. Now, she swore he looked forward to it. Andrew was never late to dinner.

  Chris walked to the table, carrying the giant pan with the pasta and shrimp with the sauce in it. She’d made too much, but the man ate like a bear, so she didn’t think there would be many leftovers. Misty had also noticed he woke up in the middle of the night and ate whatever was left from dinner.

  “How’s the shop going? I mean, I see you’re busy all day, but are there enough profits for donations?” Chris asked as he scooped himself a giant portion of the shrimp pasta and then salad onto his plate.

  “It’s going well. I’ve only been open six months, and I don’t think everybody understands my purpose yet. I’m still working on that. I have a Chamber mixer in a couple of weeks that I’m going to, and I’m hoping to spread the word there.” In fact, she was really nervous about the mixer. Misty really enjoyed her job, always had loved being a barista, but found talking about her own business difficult. It seemed like she was tooting her own horn, and she didn’t want to come across as cocky.

  Chris was eating, making appreciative noises through mouthfuls of food, his lips glistening with sauce, and Misty clenched her thighs together to relieve the sudden pressure there. This was an innocent conversation, so why did she constantly think about sex with this guy?

  “Um, do you want to go with me? Maybe you could get some business, too, for your digital presence stuff.” She sounded like a moron and was about to take it back, but he looked up at her, his blue eyes melting her insides.

  She ignored it, as well as the pulsing between her legs, as he spoke, “By the way, I looked at your website, and it looks awesome, but whoever put it together didn’t do much with the SEO and hooking it up to other places. I can work on that if you want. I also have a printer I do business with who could do a mock-up of some signage for you. Like, if you wanted to do a monthly earnings/donation thing to advertise your goals for the shop and show how much you’ve got going toward it. A little transparency in that regard might be good for business, letting the customers see exactly where your money goes and how well you’re doing. It would help get them more invested.”

  Misty was a little overwhelmed by the shift in conversation. She’d gone from pseudo-asking him out to discussing SEO. Her head spun while she tried to keep up. “I think some kids in Evan and Paige’s internship program at the high school made the website, so that probably explains why it’s like that. I hadn’t thought about the other. I’ll have to run it by Mia to make sure it’s okay, but I think it sounds like a great idea. Maybe we could meet with Mia and Evan sometime this week to discuss it.”

  “Sure. I’ve got a client meeting on Friday, but I’ve actually scheduled it at the shop, so I’ll be around.” He scooped a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed. “I’d love to go to the mixer with you.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively. “Would it be like a date?”

  Misty had to remind herself again of the Nova moniker as she decided he was trying to trip her up. “Not really. I mean, we could ride together, but kissing afterward is probably out of the question.” She tried to laugh as she spoke, attempting some levity, but they both fell silent as the word “kiss” floated between them, drifting around the awkward silence like silky tresses, caressing their skin. Chris’s eyes fell on her lips and stayed there, as if he were imagining it. His fingers gripped his fork until his knuckles whitened, and Misty’s thighs were getting a marvelous isometri
c workout, pressing together so tightly a penny couldn’t fit between them.

  He finally dropped his eyes to his plate before muttering something under his breath and shoveling more food into his mouth. That was her cue to do the same.

  Finally, after minutes of awkward silence, Chris turned the conversation back to business. Misty desperately tried to keep up. “You have a great location, right across from the capitol building. That’s an impressive feat.”

  “That’s all Evan and Jordan. They wanted someplace safe and profitable. Jordan and Mia scoped it out, and Evan put up the money.”

  His blue eyes narrowed on her as she finished her pasta. He leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual indifference, and Misty knew him well enough to know his next observation would be more important to him than he cared to admit. So she listened carefully.

  “You spend a lot of time around those men. Jordan and Evan. Is something going on?”

  She smiled, containing her laughter, barely. “No. They’re both taken. Jordan was one of the guys who saved me and Mia. Now they’re engaged to each other. And Evan is his brother, totally belongs to Paige.”

  Chris seemed to genuinely relax then, his muscles going lax so he actually was reclining. “Well, remind me to thank him next time I see him.” His eyes glazed over a bit as he went someplace else inside his head, and his jaw clenched, making the temples above his chiseled jaw bones tick. “Is there anyone else? Any boyfriends?”

  She shook her head, pushing her plate back. “No. I had one, but he couldn’t handle the incident, so he broke up with me. It was too much pressure for him to be with a girl who was recovering from something like that.” Truth was, he’d been pissed she wasn’t interested in sex after being kidnapped. Misty didn’t have a memory of being raped, like Mia did, but she didn’t have many memories of the actual time spent tied to Michael’s bed, aside from Michael getting very angry with her for being so vocally against the arrangement. But honestly, she couldn’t not tell him what a sicko he was being for tying her to his bed in an attempt to tame her. Mostly, her memories came from trying to survive for days with multiple injuries on the floor of his garage. Trent had tried to be nice about it, but neither one of them was invested enough in the relationship to begin with for it to survive something like that. They’d broken up amicably. No hard feelings.