by Beth Rhodes
Finishing her short exposition on a jump would make her day…
Even if she did land on her ass.
Hell, it wouldn’t be worth it if she didn’t leave the ice with at least one bruise.
***
He couldn’t stop watching her. He’d seen her in so many different situations over the past weeks, but never on the ice. No matter he knew of her as an Olympic athlete, he’d never seen her. She was fluid grace, like on the first day he’d met her. She knew her body…
Only now, so did he.
Perfection.
“We got company,” Craig’s voice came over his earpiece. “This area is off limits, ma’am.”
Tan started for the door, which flew open and slammed against the exterior wall.
“Your mom, Tancredo.” Craig came back.
And then there she was—armed and pointing her gun directly at him. “Don’t move, son.”
“Fuck, Craig.” Tan braced himself, moved to stand between her and Liz. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
“I came to get you. It’s time for you to come home.”
“Okay,” he answered, keeping an eye on Liz who had heard the commotion and was coming this way. Stay back. Stay back. He willed her to hear his thoughts. “Fuck, Craig,” he said more quietly and into his earpiece. “You’re fucking fired.”
With his mom, he made eye contact. “I can come with you.”
“Tan?” Liz said.
Tan didn’t dare close his eyes, but his heart fell, and he wanted to scream. “Stay back, Liz. Don’t come any closer.”
His mom had her eyes on him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Liz plowed to a stop as soon as he said to, making him love her even more.
Sophia’s eyes widened as if she could read his thoughts.
Survival instinct rushed through him, every muscle bunched, and moved as Sophia turned and fired her weapon at Liz.
“Liz!” Tan crashed into Sophia, taking her down. He felt the burn of the bullet crease his shoulder, as they hit the floor, heard Liz cry out. Fear almost froze him. He kicked the gun toward Craig. “Do something useful, fucker,” he said and ran for Liz.
“Jesus,” he hissed, seeing her on the ice, laying there, still. His feet slipped as he reached her, and he dropped to his knees.
“She can’t have you,” his mom let loose behind him, filling the outbuilding with her screeching. “She’s one of them!”
“Shut her up, Craig. Malcolm,” he ordered into his earbud. He’d had to choose, but there wasn’t a choice, really. He chose Liz. “Get me an ambulance in here, and get my mother the fuck out of here. Now.”
Liz stirred and tried to sit up. A pain-filled moan had him stopping her. “Wait.” He turned her over to her back so he could see where she was bleeding. There was a rip in her jeans on the outside of her leg. The bullet had lost its target, and had gone in low. He ripped the jeans clear of the wound so he could see the gash the bullet had left. He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
“It hurts, but it’s not bad. Look, I think the ice took the worst hit.” Her shaking hands came up to cup his face. “And your shoulder.”
“Only a scratch.” His throat tightened closed, and he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. He knew in his head she was fine, she hadn’t taken a kill shot, but in his heart, his entire life had almost ended. Bam. Gone.
He couldn’t let go.
“I think the EMTs are here, Babe.” She called him babe.
He held her face in his cold hands, and then he kissed her and kissed her and didn’t stop kissing her.
She must have known how much he needed it because she leaned in, gripped his sides, and let him.
He was going to be okay because he wasn’t alone anymore.
And he was never, never going to ever let her go.
Epilogue
“They said we were looking for a Sophia Martin. I didn’t know we were looking for his mother, God-damn-it.” Craig threw his hands up and paced the conference room at headquarters where the team was doing an after-action review of the assignment. “I swear, Tan. I didn’t know. I had no idea your mom’s name was Sophia.”
“Let it go,” Liz suggested as she pulled the last of her designs from the bin and shook them out. Her client, Stephanie, had let her use the one she’d been working on as well. And the locker room effect she’d anticipated—with her dad and Tan’s help—had come to completion, too. She opened one of the locker doors up top and used a hanger to display her design. A hockey stick rested in the crook of the door, and she opened another one two rows down and inside, she stuffed an old pair of tennies, socks, and a bottle of lotion.
The bench was just as she hoped, not a boundary to the little boothed area she was allowed but part of the display, and a pair of her brother’s hockey skates leaned under it; his jersey draped over top.
She clapped. “This is it. Look, Tan, look. I see beautiful, professionally designed signs. I even see little displays on top of tables. And okay, the gold medals in row five are impressive—”
“But yours is an experience.”
Heat rose on her neck at the compliment. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s the best here. Even if I’m not the best designer—yet, I’m so excited to show this off.”
“You should be…” He glanced down at her. “We broke our backs getting it in here for you.”
She gave him a good-humored smack on the arm. “I owe you one, then.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Rolling her eyes, she stepped back to get one last look before they left it until tomorrow morning. Maggie had painted her logo onto the front of one of the locker doors. And her dad had created a rink wall on the other side where she had a business card holder and a rack card holder so people could take a little piece of the display with them.
She couldn’t help feel a little sad Janice wasn’t here to see. Sad she’d been a vicious, jealous…well, not a nice person, instead of the friend she’d pretended to be. Liz had lived a long time not investing time in her friendships. It had been the rule of competition.
Those days were over.
She believed they could have been friends.
A man approached, coming down the aisle of booths, the command of every step giving him away. And despite recognizing it, nerves fluttered through her stomach anyway. She rolled her shoulders, keeping an eye as Tan grinned and stepped forward to shake the new guy’s hand.
They did a sort of manly back-pounding.
“So, you made it back.” Tan smiled as he spoke and closed the distance between himself and Liz. “I want you to meet Liz.”
“Ma’am.” The man was a good head over Tancredo and he had blond hair…and these pretty, almost effeminate blue eyes. Smiling eyes, though. “It’s nice to finally meet the client who took down Tan…in the gym, I mean.”
“Oh, geez.” She laughed. “You’re never going to live that down, are you?”
“Not necessary,” he conceded, putting an arm around her shoulders. She’d gotten used to him holding her, and she liked it. He nodded with his chin. “This is John Vega. He’s another member of the team who has been on loan to the FBI for a few months. You’re back now for good?”
John hedged, hesitating to answer. “Maybe.”
“Still on the hunt?”
“I’ve almost nailed her down.”
Liz’s brow lifted, but Tan laughed. “Don’t listen to him. Fr. John here wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a woman. He’s got six sisters to prove it.”
John blushed a little and her curiosity grew. He shrugged. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I need to talk to Tan.”
“Of course,” she answered, as an unexpected rush of nerves hit her stomach, but Tan stopped her and took her chin in his hand. His direct gaze calmed her.
And he smiled, loving the trust he saw in hers. “I’ll be right back.”
His eyes stayed on her for a few seconds. He’d asked her into this life. And she’d agreed.
“Yeah, you’re lucky, all right,” John spoke, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’re needed at headquarters. American hostage overseas. One of our own. I’m headed to the coast for our new sniper.”
Tan stopped. “You found her?”
“The finding was hard enough. Now I have to convince her.”
He glanced back at Liz, who was surrounded by her family and his sister. She was safe. He had to remind himself. Leaving her would happen.
She glanced his way, as if she knew he was looking. God, she was sexy.
He was going to hate leaving her…this time. Next time. Any time.
“I’ll be in the office first thing Monday morning,” he said to John. “Not a minute before.”
John’s gaze went from him back to Liz. “Gotcha. I’ll let Hawk know…
“You’re busy.”
He laughed. “You bet.”
Tancredo was going to be busy for the rest of his life.
Other Works by
—Beth Rhodes—
Single Title Novella
For Love or Duty
The Perfect Confidence
Love Beyond Reason Series:
Letters From Home
Outside The Lines
Hawk Elite Security Series:
Strike Back
Strike Fear
Strike Zone – Coming May 2017
Strike Force – Coming August 2017
Get previously published Unwanted Vows for free
by joining my mailing list!
Acknowledgements
With every book, the section to acknowledge the people who helped grows. If you’ve been tracking my books, you know…so I’d like to start with the newbie. My last minute copy editor, who—at the request of my Aunt Laurie—jumped in to help me when I was desperate to find someone who would be able to do the work in a specific amount of time. Brenda Ernewein earned a stripe or two with this job, and I hope it sparked an interest in the publishing field, because authors are always looking for good editors.
Recently, I created a review team and garnered enough attention to have list of good people who would love to read my books. Love Junkies, you rock! Thanks for loving romance, and hope, and darn good stories.
Special thanks—as usual—go to my content editor Jessa Slade. Your comments, at first frightening, inspire me to do better and motivate me to make stories that my readers will love.
My devoted friends and critique partners, Passionate Critters, Cindy Skaggs, Jennie Marts, and Mara Baruffi-Fierstein [I don’t care if your name isn’t legally hyphenated. You’ll always have half a dozen names in my book, anyway]. You guys are more than all that and a bag of chips. Where else would I be able to rant and cheer and cry and eat chocolate? Thanks for being there for all these years.
Coming Soon!
Strike Zone
Book Three, Hawk Elite Security
Former FBI sharpshooter, Emily Rogers, needs to stay hidden in order to stay alive. So when handsome John Vega walks through her door, she knows she’s in trouble. John remembers the strong confident woman from three years ago, and that’s the woman he wants on his team, helping him rescue a hostage in the Middle East.
But when John finds her, he brings the past with him. She must leave the place she has learned to call home because if she doesn’t, her friends will be in danger.
Will joining John’s team put the past behind her for good? Or will it merely give the man intent on killing her his chance?
About the Author
Beth Rhodes is a wife, mother, friend, and lover. She lives with her Army husband and their six children along the swiftly moving Chattahoochee River in Fort Benning, Georgia. She’s learning to appreciate the mild climate, still loves coffee, and needs to run.
Her stories are full of life, family, and love. You can find her reading just about any genre of romance, but her favorites are fast-paced suspense, where life is on the line and love is the only saving grace. She wants a book that makes her heart pound and her pulse race.
Beth is a member of Romance Writers of America, Pikes Peak Writers, International Thriller Writers, and Passionate Critters. She is signed with Entangled Publishing.
Keep up with her crazy life by visiting her webpage.
http://www.authorbethrhodes.com
The Perfect Confidence
A novella
Easy-going con man, Dominic Foster is ready to get out of the game, buy his old family home, and settle down. He just needs the cash promised to him by an old buddy. Unfortunately, the woman holding his money is leading him on a chase.
Daughter of a con man, telling lies is the only life Heather Slate has ever known. Now with her father dead, she’s set on revenge against the man she holds responsible, gorgeous Dominic Foster—the object of her old, school-girl crush. After avoiding him for months, she is finally ready to exact her revenge. But after meeting him, she realizes things are not as they seem.
Both live in a world of lies where trust does not come easy. But it’s trust they need most when a winter storm has them stranded in Dominic’s small home town. Can the trust they find lead them to love and a new beginning for them both?
Prologue
Dominic Foster didn’t usually say no to money. Hell, he never said no to money and watching Jack’s dream go up in smoke was worth every penny.
He stood back from the heat, the flames of the burning house, surprised to see a shadow of regret on Jack Slate’s face. “Hey, it’s just a house, man.”
Jack shrugged. “It was a dream.” He sighed. “I left a note for Heather. Will you give it to her? The insurance money will be good. You’ll get twenty percent of the payout from the house and my life insurance. When you see her…make sure she’s okay.”
Dominic hesitated. He didn’t want to get between Jack and his daughter. “Why not call her yourself?”
“No.” He waved his hands and started for the car along the street. “Someone could be watching her. This is better. She was upset over our last con. Just needs time to cool off, I imagine. When I’m settled somewhere no one can find me, then...”
Staying off the grid was important after a job. Dominic had a few close calls of his own over the years. Success happened with anonymity. “Well, it’ll take a few months anyway for the paperwork to go through, and then…we can both call it quits.”
Jack nodded. “It’s best. I’m too damn old for this game.”
“Never.”
Chuckling, Jack opened the car door. “Time for these old bones to retire, son. I just hate to leave Heather on her own.”
“She won’t be alone.” Dominic couldn’t help but reassure his old friend. Jack had done too much for him in the early years. Jack had seen right through him during his first scam, the pool hall hustle. When he offered to play pairs and split the money, Dominic had agreed and then gone on to learn just about everything he could soak up about playing the opponents’ weakness. Learning what it was in the first place had been the hardest, but Jack had that gift to dig deep, learn quickly, and get to the heart of his mark.
Now, this was Dominic’s chance to help instead of take…okay, and make a few bucks to boot.
“Get out of here. I’m going to call 9-1-1.” Dominic watched the old car drive away as he dialed to report a fire at the old house on Valentine Lane.
Chapter One
Heather Slate had assumed a name and an identity before planting herself in this quaint little town. She waved goodbye to Sandra at the boutique on Main Street and quickly closed her jacket over her sidearm. Stupid! She didn’t need every curious resident seeing her 9mm. Even playing a part, she had to quit getting in so deep with the locals.
With a frustrated look to the clear, blue sky, she scowled. Nothing should be so perfect when her mood was this sour. Everyone in town was so nice, too nice for the revenge in mind.
And finding Dominic Foster was the only way to gain an ounce of justice.
He’d been there when the hou
se burned to the ground. He must’ve known her dad was in there. The worse part was she’d always thought of him as a friend—to Jack, anyway. She couldn’t figure out—for the life of her—why he would be involved in something so awful.
Except that he was a known con man. He’d lied to others. Why not her father?
Now that she had the money from the insurance, she was going to lure him back to his hometown and crush him, like a bug.
Tomorrow there would be an auction for his family home, and she was going to buy it, dirt cheap. And then she was going to burn it to the ground.
A home for a home.
He’d taken hers. She was going to take his. Payback was going to be a bitch. Her bitch.
The road to the house barely met any kind of standard. Potholes were strewn from one side to the other, and when she’d nearly reached the old homestead, the road turned to dirt.
As the two-story house came into sight, her heart gave a funny clutch.
She scowled. Ridiculous to feel anything for the place, anything but anger. But the sentiment was there anyway…and it was the reason her doubts about Dominic wouldn’t stay squelched. He’d lived here, talked about it and his family. Could he really have done something so cold as to involve himself in a con that would hurt her father, hurt her?
The house had a worn, white railing that ran the length of the porch. Hanging above it were old, rusty planters that had once probably been filled with flowers. Petunias, she’d guess. The kind that draped over the sides in brilliant colors of purple and pink and white. There was a stained glass window over the front door. The original color of the house was a mystery. Today it stood in dilapidated blue, faded to a shade lighter than that of the sky.
Why, in God’s name, did a person abandon such a home?
Growing up, she’d have killed to live in a house like Dominic’s. Instead she and her dad had moved from city to city and state to state, always looking for the next big break. She’d loved her dad…