by Sybil Bartel
Copyright © 2016 by Sybil Bartel
Cover art by: CT Cover Creations
Cover Photo by: Michael Stokes Photography
Cover Model: Kyle Clarke
Edited by: Rebecca Paula
Hot Tree Editing
Formatting by: Champagne Formats
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Warning: This book contains offensive language, violence and sexual situations. Mature audiences only. 18+
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
BOOKS BY SYBIL BARTEL
SYNOPSIS
DEDICATION
QUOTE
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
THANK YOU!
ANDRÉ - The Uncompromising Series Book Three
TALON - The Uncompromising Series Book One
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY SYBIL BARTEL
The Unchecked Series
IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE (Book #1)
IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE (Book #2)
IMPOSSIBLE END (Book #3)
NO APOLOGIES (The Rock Harder Series Book #1)
The Uncompromising Series
TALON (Book #1)
NEIL (Book #2)
ANDRÉ (Book #3)
March 2017
ROARK (Book #4)
September 2017
NEIL
The Uncompromising Series
Ex-Danish Military Special Forces, built like a legend, and uncompromising in every way—Neil Christensen didn’t walk into my life. The Viking-sized warrior crashed it like a hurricane.
The moment he showed up at my strip club, my life fell to shit. South Florida’s most ruthless motorcycle gang, the cops, the Feds—they all want something I don’t have, something the Viking took from me.
I thought I could run, but the motorcycle gang caught me. Now the only thing standing between me and an unmarked grave is a warrior I don’t trust.
I’m not afraid to die, but I am terrified of weathering the storm. Because when a Viking decides to unleash his fury, no one is going to come out unscathed.
Warning: This book contains alpha heroes, offensive language, violence and sexual situations. Mature audiences only. 18+
NEIL is a full-length, standalone novel and is the second book in the Uncompromising Series.
TALON, the first book in the Uncompromising Series is also a full-length, standalone novel and is available now.
For Adrian and Becka.
Three Months Ago
IT WAS HIM.
Oh my God, it was him.
One step into the lobby and his gray-blue penetrating stare zeroed in on me.
My heart skipped, my pulse jumped and I drew in a breath that did nothing to hide my shock. Everything from that night came back in an unwanted rush of fear and all I could think was he’s even bigger in a suit.
I wanted to squirm, or worse, thrust my tits out to get his eyes off mine, but this wasn’t a strip club and I didn’t wear a G-string anymore. My name was on an actual paycheck and my heels were business casual. For the first time in my life, I had a legit job behind a granite reception desk. I needed to act professional because my boss walked in right next to him and barked my name like an order.
“Ariel.”
Dragging my eyes off the man who was so damn tall and muscular he could be a Viking, I forced a smile and nodded at André Luna. An ex-Marine and the owner of the personal security firm where I answered phones, he was as badass as they came, but next to Viking, his six-foot frame and hard muscles looked small. “Morning.” I left out the good on purpose.
André shoved his phone in his pocket and rested his hand on his waist right next to his holstered 9mm. He inclined his head at Viking. “This is Neil Christensen. Neil, Ariel.”
Christensen. Shit, he was a Viking. “Nice to meet you.” I never thought I’d see him again.
Studying me like he could read my mind, Viking barely nodded but he didn’t speak.
André glanced at him and lines formed between his eyebrows before he looked back at me. “Who’s off the schedule today?”
I nervously typed a few strokes and brought up the spreadsheet that’d taken me three nights of googling Excel YouTube videos to learn how to use. I scanned the list, wondering what Viking was doing at Luna and Associates. “Tyler’s here.”
“Block him out for two days.” André turned to Viking. “Will that work?”
Measured and quiet and in a language I’d never heard, he spoke. His deep cadence filled my head like it was a memory instead of the first time hearing it. The sound, all at once intimate and familiar yet foreign, threw me back to that night two months ago.
My head whipped violently from the backhanded blow. Pain exploded in my cheek and blood pooled in my mouth. “Eat shit, Jimmy.”
“You little bitch, I’ll fucking teach you who’s boss.”
My lips curled up in a sneer. “How? By forcing me to suck your small-ass dick? I’d like to see you try. Just because I strip at your shitty club doesn’t mean I’m a whore.”
The yacht rocked and he lunged forward. Landing with his hands on my thighs, he gripped my flesh and dug his fingers in. “Shut your fucking mouth.” His alcohol-laced breath reeked of anger.
“Now you want me to shut up?” I taunted, moving my foot into position. “After telling me you wanted my smart mouth to keep you company tonight?”
He gripped a handful of my hair. “I said you were gonna entertain me, puta.”
“I’m not a bitch.” I kicked him in the balls.
“Pinche puta!” One hand flew to his junk but the other swung out and made a solid connection with my jaw.
I saw stars.
Jimmy gripped my neck and let out a string of cuss words. “I’m gonna kill you for that, you fucking whore.”
The sliding glass doors flew open and two armed men in wetsuits rushed into the cabin. One blond, one darker haired, they trained their guns on my boss.
The blond man spoke. “Take your hands off her.”
My boss smirked but raised his arms and turned toward them. “You can fucking have the bitch.”
Adrenaline surged. I picked up a decanter and sla
mmed it into the back of his head.
Jimmy slumped to the floor and landed on my feet.
I fell on my ass and dropped the heavy crystal as blood oozed out of his nose. The two men didn’t even blink. They issued commands at each other, helped me up and led me starboard.
“Is he dead?” I didn’t ask who they were.
They looked at each other and the blond spoke. “Unconscious.”
The dark-haired one handed his rifle to the blond, pulled on diving fins then picked me up and lowered us over the side of the yacht so quickly, I didn’t have time to protest. The cool night sea hit me a hundred times harder than the blows from my boss and I cried out. “No!”
“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” He tucked his massive arm under mine and brought my back to his chest. Rolling to his side, he began a strong stroke out toward open waters and I fucking freaked.
“What are you doing? Land is behind us!” I kicked at him and ocean splashed into my face as a giant swell bobbed us up then down.
His arm tightened and he took two more strokes. “The boat’s going to explode. We need to clear the blast radius.”
“We’re going to drown!” I fought to keep my head up.
“You’re safe.”
Was he fucking crazy? “Who are you?”
“Someone who wants your boss dead.” He ground the words out and swam a few more strokes. “Hundred more yards and I’ll get you out of this.”
The blond popped up next to us with two sets of scuba gear and matched our pace as if swimming with four large tanks and two rifles through four-foot swells was nothing. “Twenty seconds,” he warned.
“Copy.” The dark-haired one kicked harder and we started gliding through the water at a fast clip.
My boss had cartel ties but these men were nothing like the assholes who came into the strip club. My teeth started chattering. “You’re m-m-military,” I guessed.
Neither of them answered.
“Who are—”
A deafening boom drowned out my question as the yacht burst into flames.
Sea spray hit my face. “He’s d-d-dead.” I started to violently shake.
“You saw nothing,” the dark-haired one warned. “We’ll get you out of here and back to Miami. You’ll forget us and everything you saw tonight. Understand?”
Shock, the explosion, my torn dress stuck to my bruised, freezing body—my mind went blank. I simply nodded and the dark-haired man swam us toward a drifting cruiser.
“Easy, easy, hand her up.” The blond man pulled me on deck. “C’mon, darlin’, we’re gonna get you dried off.”
His words barely registered. Shaking, no control, desperate for an ounce of something real I could hold on to, I glanced up.
He was huge.
Shirtless, his giant frame even bigger than my dark-haired rescuer’s, a third man stood at the helm and took me in with a measured stare.
For one impossible moment, my world went perfectly still as his striking features eclipsed everything except the way he was looking at me. Dominating, consuming, his presence cut through the night and wrapped around me as surely as if it were his arms. My chest constricted and my mouth opened but no air drew in. The phantom scent of spice and musk swirled past on the ocean breeze and mocked me, because I wasn’t breathing; I was drowning.
As if he could peer into my soul and know my exact thoughts, he gave me the simplest of gestures.
He tipped his chin.
A critical breath hitched through my lungs and I knew. I would never breathe the same again.
“Ariel.”
I blinked and shoved the memory of the first and only time I’d ever seen Viking down deep and cleared my throat. “Sorry, what?”
“Three days.” André pointed at the computer. “Schedule Tyler for NC Construction. Tell him to gear up for nighttime security and have him bring a vehicle around front. I’ll fill him in on the rest on the drive over.”
I didn’t recognize the name. “New client?” I nervously typed in the information.
André shook his head. “We served together.” He glanced back at Viking but Viking was still staring at me. “You parked in the garage?”
“Ja,” Viking answered.
“Let’s go.” Efficient, brisk, André turned toward the front door of the lobby.
Viking didn’t follow. He held my gaze, then he did the same thing he’d done months ago on a boat in the waters off Key West—he tipped his chin.
And destroyed my equilibrium.
Stunned, I watched his huge shoulders turn and with a grace that belied his height, he followed André out. Shocked, relieved, terrified—I didn’t know what I was feeling. My stomach fluttered, hair rose on the back of my neck and spicy musk swirled into my head.
I picked up the phone and called Tyler.
WHEN I DIDN’T ANSWER THE doorbell, the knocking started.
Damn it. I didn’t have time for this. My best friend was getting married in a few hours and I needed to get on the road. “Hold on, I’m coming!” One last swipe of mascara and I rushed to the door, almost tripping over a toy in my five-inch heels.
Expecting my neighbor’s kid, who was always coming over, I didn’t bother with the peephole. I swung the door open. “Listen, I…” My words died on my lips as I took in the wall of muscle and spicy cologne in front of me.
Viking.
His penetrating stare took me in and my heart skipped.
“What are you doing here?” Neil Christensen wasn’t a man who showed up on your doorstep without a purpose. Everything I’d learned about him over the past few months confirmed that. Tall, reserved, ex-Danish military, he wasn’t the boy next door. Not even close. Every inch of his war-hardened body was a testament to his former Special Forces training.
Without taking his gray-blue eyes off mine, it felt like his gaze took in every inch of my body. “Driving.”
It was only a single word, but it was enough. The few times I’d heard him speak, his deep cadence and slight accent made me shiver. “Where?” I stupidly asked.
He glanced down as a tiny little hand wrapped around my bare leg. “To the wedding.” The flawless drape of his custom-tailored suit stretched across his huge thigh as he gracefully dropped to a squat. His long, thick finger pointed at his expensive watch and he switched from English to Danish then quietly spoke to my son.
Conner tightened his hold on his blanket and looked up at me.
Cursing the butterflies churning in my stomach, I tried to ignore the fact that the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on was not only on my doorstep, but kneeling. At my feet.
I sucked in a breath. “First of all, I don’t need a chauffeur. Second, he has no idea what you’re saying.”
The corner of Viking’s mouth moved fractionally. He reached out to Conner and spoke again in Danish.
Conner released my leg and leaned toward him.
In one fluid movement, Viking scooped up my son and stood. His gaze landed on me and he switched back to English. “He understands. Get your things.”
My chest constricted at the sight of Viking holding my son. He made it look so natural, I had to force myself to remember that this man was barely an acquaintance. One of the three times he’d walked through the lobby at Luna and Associates, he’d paused to pick up the framed picture of Conner and me on my desk. He’d studied it a moment then set it down and strode to the elevator without a word.
“Neil—”
“It’s time to go.”
I knew alpha. I worked with twenty-five men cut from the same cloth and I’d learned how to navigate around them, but Viking took the term to a whole new level.
My hand went to my hip. “How do you know where I live?”
“You should not drive to Key West alone with a child.” The volume and tone of his voice didn’t change but he still managed to make the words biting.
I didn’t care how hot he was, I wasn’t going to let him boss me around. “I can manage a hundred and fifty miles on m
y own. Besides, you don’t have a car seat.” I threw that last part out because you couldn’t pay me to take Conner’s seat out of my car. It’d taken an act of God to get that shit fastened in.
“You are not going to manage and there is already a safety seat in my truck.”
He bought Conner a car seat? My eyes narrowed. “Did André send you?” I was going to kill my boss for this. “He gave you my address, didn’t he?” He’d asked me yesterday who I was driving down with and I’d stupidly said no one.
“He did not send me. What does the boy need?” Viking rubbed his massive hand over Conner’s back and my traitorous son leaned into him.
I couldn’t even blame Conner. I’d fantasized about doing the same damn thing. More muscles than a Greek god, stoic, calm, Viking was everything my ex wasn’t. Not that it mattered, because he’d never looked at me like my ex did. He’d never smiled at me, his eyes had never strayed to my tits or ass. Hell, he didn’t even glance at my skintight mini dress and I’d spent hours getting ready, which was a fucking feat with a two-year-old. My long dark hair hung in perfect waves. I was shaved, waxed and polished to a high shine and my eyeliner was sexy cat-eye perfect. And the truth was, I did it all because I knew Viking would be at the wedding tonight. But here he was—on my doorstep—holding my kid and staring at me without an ounce of patience.
Fuck my life.
I snatched the diaper bag with a huff. “Just because I’m letting you drive, doesn’t mean you get to be a bossy shit all day.”
“Watch your language.” He took the bag from me.
Christ, this was going to be a long drive.
MY ARM WAS ASLEEP, My neck was pinched and I was covered in sweat that wasn’t mine but I didn’t dare move. My son’s little snores drifted on the ocean breeze and I smiled as I brushed a hand over his silky curls.
A massive six-and-a-half-foot frame towered over me a second before his low, accented voice spoke. “Give me the child.”