by Jett Munroe
“Life was all right then, though I missed my parents. I grew up, went to college, enlisted in the marines. Can’t talk about the missions,” he said with a glance of apology to her. “Except for the one that concerned Dujardin because it’s not classified. You remember Ty’s a fugitive retrieval specialist?” At her nod he went on, “There’s a reason, and it’s because he’s a damn good tracker. He led my squad to a neighborhood in the eastern section of Kabul. Before we could proceed, an Afghani man came to us and begged us to help his cousin. He said a foreigner had taken the family hostage and was barricaded in their house.”
Memories surged and he had to stop.
“Beck, you don’t have to go on,” Delaney whispered.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “You need to understand the type of man I am.”
“I already know the type of man you are.”
He shook his head. “You need to know this.” He swallowed then surged ahead, “Somehow, even though we were careful, Dujardin realized we were comin’ for him. He killed the family livin’ in that house, all eight of ’em. Youngest was fuckin’ six years old.” He clenched his jaw, trying to get hold of his emotions so he could go on. After a few seconds, when he was sure his voice would be steady, he said, “We thought Dujardin had gone out the back, that we’d lost ’im. I was kneeling by the littlest one, puttin’ a blanket over her, when I sensed movement behind me. I turned, bringing my weapon up, and saw a woman standing there, a gun in her hand, pointin’ it at me.”
“My God.”
He kept going, “I told her in English to put it down. She looked at me like she didn’t understand me. I’d learned some rudimentary Dari and Pashto, enough to tell her to drop her weapon in both languages, and she still didn’t respond. I got up slowly, not wantin’ to startle her. She looked around at the bodies and said in English, ‘You made him do this.’”
“Oh my God.”
He met her eyes a moment then put his gaze on his hands again. The telling of this was hard enough, without watching her process it. “She stood in front of this tall cabinet and told me she wouldn’t let me have him, then brought up the gun in such a way I knew she meant to shoot me. So I shot her.” He swallowed. “I was well trained, Laney, and I was trained not to miss.”
“Honey…”
The softness in her voice nearly undid him. He pushed on, “I killed her, a bullet right between the eyes. Dujardin came bustin’ outta that cabinet, shooting like a maniac. He killed one of my men and wounded me. That’s what sent me home. What cost me my fiancée.”
“It was self-defense,” she said.
He looked up at her. “You believe that?” he asked, searching her eyes. “I could’ve shot her in the leg or shoulder. Incapacitated her. Instead I went for the kill shot.”
“If you’d incapacitated her, that wouldn’t have guaranteed that she would’ve dropped the gun. She still could have killed you.” She scooted forward and took his hands in hers. “Listen to me, Beck. You were in a war. You did what you had to do. And if she was there with him, was there when he killed that family and used you as an excuse as to why he did that, then there was something not right with her.”
“Still, I failed.”
“You didn’t fail.”
“No? Think back a little bit. Remember standin’ in the lobby at REG, holdin’ a bomb?”
“That’s on him, not you.”
He shook his head. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
“That wasn’t your call then. You had a job to do, and you did it.”
He finally put into words what he hadn’t been able to for so long. “I got out of the corps because I didn’t understand why I was doin’ what I was doin’ anymore. It all seemed so pointless. Take out one insurgent and there were ten more to take his place.”
“I get that,” she whispered.
“I love you, Delaney Murphy.”
Her breath stuttered and her eyes went liquid.
He cupped her face and slid his thumbs across her cheekbones. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “Rachel said she’d rip my lungs out through my nose if I upset you.”
That startled a laugh out of her.
Keeping his eyes on hers, he repeated, “Baby, I love you.” He moved his hands from her face to her back and yanked her into his arms, holding her tight, needing her more than he’d ever needed anyone in his life. He ignored the fire in his shoulder. He’d put up with a hell of a lot of pain to have her right where she was. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered. “You can’t leave.”
Delaney wrapped her arms around Beck and held on. God. Finally, he was opening up to her, and just as she’d thought, it was glorious. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at Coffee & Confections,” she confessed softly, her forehead shoved into his neck. “And every day I’ve been with you I’ve fallen more and more until there’s no more falling. I love you and will always, always love you. Until the stars fall from the sky and the sun refuses to shine, I will love you, Beck Townsend.”
“I remember,” he whispered. “I remember you saying that in the hospital.” His voice broke at the last word and he lifted his head.
And what she saw made her realize just how much he had opened up to her, because those beautiful stormy eyes of this man who was all man, the strongest man she knew, those eyes were wet.
Dear God. What she’d said meant everything to him, and he was showing that to her.
His hands came to her face, cupping it, his thumbs once again caressing her cheeks, and his eyes never left hers. He wasn’t trying to hide what he was feeling.
And it was beautiful.
“Come home with me?” he asked.
She nodded.
He pulled her back into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers. The kiss began tender and soft, but quickly escalated to harsh and desperate. When he lifted his head, they were both breathing heavily. “Let’s go home,” he said and stood.
When he held out his hand, she took it, letting him pull her off the bed. Together they walked out of the room and into their future.
About the Author
Jett Munroe lives in the desert Southwest because she got tired of the cold and snow of Northeast Ohio. By day, she’s a mostly mild-mannered human resources manager for a nonprofit organization, and by night (and weekends), she writes hot and spicy contemporary romance.
She focused on her writing career starting in 2005, and over the next ten years had several paranormal romances published under the pen names Cynthia Garner and Sherrill Quinn. She loves action movies and chick flicks, reading romance (just about every subgenre!), watching HGTV and the DIY Network, and hates shopping.
In the Line of Fire, the first book in her contemporary series Hot Desert Heroes with Samhain Publishing will be released in June 2016.
Social Media Links:
Website: www.jettmunroe.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CynthiaGarnerBooks
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/jettmunroe
Twitter: @jettmunroe
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
In the Line of Fire
Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Somerville
ISBN: 978-1-61923-262-4
Edited by Latoya Smith
Cover by Kelly Martin
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2016
www.samhainpublishing.com