Men In Uniform Anthology

by Delilah Devlin

  She froze. Shit, she hadn’t been wrong. Her pulse raced with a maddening intensity. He closed the last inch between them, his eyes searching hers. She wrestled to square her shoulders and take this loss as a big girl. “You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me or tell me this to my face.”

  “Not yet.” He flashed her a smile that lit her up inside. “I wanted a pilot to take you back to Houston because I read Miranda’s text message. I didn’t think I should fly you when my mind keeps racing. Wouldn’t be safe.”

  Mind racing? She withdrew, folding her arms. He didn’t sound like the guy always in charge she remembered. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve always been in love with you, Jenny. I was never able to live the fantasy, to tell you about my feelings. And to know you’re marrying someone else doesn’t make me the best guy to fly you.”

  She swallowed, unfolding her arms. Crap, she had to tell him about the stupid pact. A wave of warmth spread across her cheeks. “When I was twenty, I made a pact with Lewis that if both of us weren’t married by thirty, we could always marry each other. We saw it in a movie and thought it was a good idea. After I broke up with Colt, I realized I’ve made so many mistakes and have been through so many bad dates, I thought what if for once I choose with reason only?”

  “So you contacted Lewis,” he said, a pang of relief in his tone.

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I told him we should talk about the pact after his birthday party.”

  He took one step toward her, but she didn’t move an inch. “And that’s why you were in such a hurry to make it to Houston.”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned. “Do you have any feelings for him?”

  “Not romantically.” She chewed on her lip. Why lie? If he was going to drop her like a piece of rotten fruit because of her crazy deal, she might as well be honest. “And not the way I feel for you.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s raw and crazy, and it doesn’t make sense. Then you hold me, or I spend the night with you, and it’s serene and dreamy.” A lump lodged in her throat, but she swallowed. “Like I never want to let go of the moments we share, yet I want to create so many new ones.”

  He stroked her cheek, the gentle touch evoking ungentle and carnal responses within her. “Me, too, Jenny.”

  “But you were ready to send me on my way.”

  “No. I was ready to let you make the decision. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight for you. Now that I know how well we fit together, and that you also liked me, I’m not stopping fighting for you.” A glow flickered in his eyes, and he angled his head. “Ever.”

  “Say that again.”

  “I’m not stopping fighting—”

  She stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down, slamming her lips on his. He wrapped his strong arms around her, cocooning her in his warm, muscular hold. She stroked his tongue with hers, and he quickly upped the intensity of his response, taking charge of how he explored her mouth.

  How she loved being with him… When he disengaged his mouth from hers, but was still within breathing distance, rationalization slowly returned. “Who called me? I never asked.” And she’d been so out of sorts after reading Miranda’s texts, she forgot to ask.

  He moved a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Your father. I told him about us.”

  Surprise burst inside her. Soon, a current of pride surged through her, leaving no part of her untouched. “You did?” Of course he had. Mack meant every word he’d just said—and he’d even told her father before their conversation about Lewis. Darn the man, he wanted her and wouldn’t let her overbearing father get in their way.

  She peered at him, smiling. If her family opposed her being with Mack, she didn’t care. She’d made enough bad decisions in life and learned how to recognize a good one. He was a keeper. “Yes. He’ll get used to the idea, one way or another.”

  He kissed her nose, then tipped up her chin so his gaze held hers. “You belong to me and I belong to you. We just didn’t know it yet.”

  She squealed, threading her arms around him, ready to continue a lifetime of making her own choices—with the right guy by her side.

  Epilogue

  A year later

  “Cheers,” Miranda said, clinking her glass to her sister’s.

  “Cheers.” Jenny had shared many toasts during her wedding reception at the family’s Texas ranch, but somehow it never got old. She watched her friends and family dance to the band’s music, her father talking to her mother in the background.

  At first, her father didn’t like the idea of her marrying Mack when he proposed to her six months ago. But when Jenny made it clear she’d get hitched to Mack with or without his approval, he came around. If he had opposed—she’d still have married the man of her dreams and not looked back.

  “I’m happy for you.” Miranda gave her a hug, then looked at her with pride in her eyes. “You went for it and got married, Jenny. Thankfully, not with your first option.”

  Jenny chuckled. “God, I hate when you’re right,” she said, remembering her sister’s advice against marrying Lewis. Thankfully, her friend had understood and in the recent months met a girl at a bar, and now the two of them dated exclusively.

  “Where is Lewis, anyway? I can’t wait to give him a hard time.” Miranda glanced around, taking another chug of her champagne.

  Jenny rolled her eyes, even if a sense of relief washed over her. It was okay to laugh at the joke, because she had decided against doing the rational-only option at the end. “No, thanks. Leave the poor guy alone.”

  “You’re no fun now that you’re married, Jenny.” Miranda nudged her elbow.

  “I beg to differ. I think she’s a lot of fun,” said a deep male voice that caused tingles everywhere from her scalp down her toes. Mack hugged her from behind, and she gladly leaned into him.

  He kissed the top of her head.

  Miranda shrugged, then waved them off. “You two need a room. Or an entire wing. I’ll go back to my table and talk to that second cousin whose name we can’t remember.”

  Miranda sauntered out of sight.

  Jenny drank the rest of her bubbly, then set the glass on the windowsill. She turned to gawk at her handsome husband. During recent months, she’d gotten used to seeing him wearing his flight suit whenever he left the house they shared in Dallas.

  “Mrs. Mack Hunter,” he said, putting his arms around her.

  A thrill of excitement zapped through her, and she kissed his chin. “I love the sound of it.”

  “Good. Because you just swore to use my name until your last breath, Ms. Big Shot Movie Reviewer.” He nipped her lip, and a shot of lust traveled through her bloodstream. She’d not only renewed her contract as a movie reviewer for Dallas Morning News for more money, they’d also offered her a once-a-week slot on a TV show.

  “Sounds good to me.” She linked her arms around him, happy to kiss him in a way she shouldn’t in public. She felt his, er, excitement through their clothes and held him tighter. Loving him was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to Entangled Publishing for supporting the Men in Uniform anthology idea. I appreciate being with a publisher that works for me and with me.

  To Alethea Spiridon…I wish every writer had an editor like you. You’re in my corner, helping me become a better writer and also inspiring me to come up with new stuff. I’m also in awe of your organizational skills. Mad organizational skills.

  I wouldn’t be where I am without the help of my longtime critique partner and friend Christine Glover. Thanks for putting up with me.

  To my readers, thanks for your support—I appreciate you so much.

  About the Author

  Carmen Falcone writes sexy, edgy, addictive romance. She loves to create deliciously hot, alpha book boyfriends and the quirky, smart, and sassy heroines readers relate to.

  Brazilian by birth and tra
veler by nature, she moved to Central Texas after college and met her broody Swiss husband—living proof that opposites attract. She found in writing the best excuse to avoid the healthy lifestyle everyone keeps bragging about.

  When she’s not lost in the world of romance, she enjoys spending time with her two kids, being walked by her crazy pugs, reading, catching up with friends, and chatting with random people in the checkout line. For more info, please visit her at carmenfalcone.com

  Also by Carmen Falcone

  GOOD GIRL GONE BAD

  GOOD GIRLS LIKE IT DIRTY

  GOOD GIRL’S BAD LESSONS

  A VENGEFUL AFFAIR

  A NIGHT OF MISBEHAVING

  KIDNAPPING THE BRAZILIAN TYCOON

  A WEEKEND OF MISBEHAVING

  BRAZILIAN REVENGE

  BRAZILIAN CAPTURE

  BRAZILIAN SURRENDER

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. References to actual persons, living or dead, is not intended or inferred.

  Copyright © 2019 by Carmen Falcone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  rights@entangledpublishing.com

  www.entangledpublishing.com

  Edited by Alethea Spiridon

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2019

  PRECIOUS CARGO

  NICOLE MORGAN

  Chapter One

  Pari Langston was talking on the phone and typing something into the computer when Brandon walked in the door. This was to be his first day reporting for duty at the SFPSS team.

  Two weeks had passed since he ran into Carl and his old commander saved his ass. In his two-week sabbatical, he’d managed to relax for once and not worry about things like a mission or whoever the latest asshole was that he was assigned to protect.

  He waved at Pari as she motioned for him to take a seat. She had a no-nonsense way of carrying herself, and he could already understand why Carl relied on her as much as he did.

  They’d had a few phone conversations since their meet-up, going over details of his new employment with the SFPSS team, known by others as Special Forces Private Security Services, but Brandon still had no idea what type of work he would be doing for them. The only thing he was adamant about was that he refused to do personal protection work ever again. He was tired of protecting the lives of bastards like Sergi Ivanov and others similar to his kind.

  Pari hung up the phone. “So, you’re Brandon Molitor.”

  He began to get up to greet her, but she quickly stopped him. “Oh, please. Sit down. Save that kind of gallantry for your girlfriend. I don’t subscribe to all that nonsense.”

  “Suit yourself, but no girlfriend here.”

  “No? Handsome young lad like yourself?”

  “Yeah, let’s just say I don’t subscribe to all that nonsense, either.”

  She laughed. “I think I’m going to like you, Molitor.”

  “I’m pretty damn likeable.”

  Carl walked in. “Oh please. You’re also one of the most arrogant sons of bitches I’ve ever known.”

  “I’ll give you that.” Brandon stood up and held out his hand and shook Carl’s. “Thanks for that little rescue mission back in Russia.”

  “You’ve thanked me enough, now let’s talk turkey.” Carl motioned for him and Pari to join him in the war room.

  “What have we got?” Pari asked.

  “I got a call last night from Senator Powers,” Carl said while tossing a folder on the table.

  Brandon glanced at the manila file that slid in front of him and pulled it open. The first picture he noticed was a black-haired woman. Young, pretty, with dark wide eyes.

  “Who’s this?” he asked.

  “She’s Senator Power’s daughter.”

  “Okay. So what’s the assignment?”

  “Hear me out,” Carl told him.

  “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?” Brandon asked.

  “Well technically it’s a personal protection detail.”

  Brandon pursed his lips together and shook his head. “What’s the one type of assignment I swore I wouldn’t take?”

  “I said hear me out.”

  “No, Carl. I won’t do it. That’s all I’ve done since I separated from the Army. And all I end up doing is getting paid to protect the very people we should be fighting against. I’m not going to do it again.”

  “Molitor, I need you to let me explain this case to you.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m not doing it. I appreciate the job offer, and you know if you ever need me, I’m there. But I’m not doing any more of these bullshit jobs. That’s not what I signed up for. I’m done.” Brandon closed the file and pushed it back in Carl’s direction.

  He got up from his chair and headed back toward the front room when Carl said the two words that he knew would stop him dead in his tracks.

  “Pedro Tovar.”

  Brandon clenched his jaw and balled his fists up at his sides. There were few men in this world that he would gladly torture and not feel an ounce of remorse. Pedro Tovar was one of them.

  Out of all the terrorists tied to the attacks America suffered on 9/11, Pedro Tovar had always been the one who the Department of Defense had let get away.

  It was believed by the Pentagon that Tovar was a silent investor with Osama Bin Laden, working to support the financial aspect of the terrorist cells that were planted and growing in the United States.

  It wasn’t until years after the attack that they were able to find the paper trail that proved without a shadow of a doubt that Tovar had not only spent millions in support of Bin Laden but was personally responsible for smuggling thousands, if not millions, of illegal weapons into their borders.

  “Got your attention now?” Carl asked.

  Brandon turned back to face him and Pari and returned to the chair in front of them. Crossing his arms, he leaned back. “I’m listening.”

  Carl pushed the folder back across the table and began explaining. “This woman is Alena Powers. She’s the daughter of Senator Brock Powers, a man who not only has done a lot for veterans, but someone I consider a personal friend.”

  Brandon opened the file and looked at the woman’s picture again. He’d seen plenty of pictures of the senator throughout the years, and now that he took a closer look, he could see the resemblance in their eyes.

  “So what are her ties to Tovar?” Pari asked.

  “She had none. At least not until his psychopathic son Jason set his sights on her.”

  “So what? He’s stalking her?”

  “He was. He’s now dead,” Carl answered.

  “What happened?”

  “He attacked her one night in her apartment. She had a gun. She shot him.”

  “Talk about dumb luck,” Pari said.

  “Apparently, he’d been stalking her for a while. She didn’t know. They met and within forty-eight hours he was dead.”

  “So we just need to keep her safe until…when?”

  “No one is sure yet. She left her job in Miami and went back to New York to stay with her father. She wasn’t there five minutes before someone took a shot at her out on the front lawn.”

  “Shit,” Brandon muttered.

  “Look, man. I know you don’t want to take these kinds of cases. But she’s a good kid who didn’t ask for any of this. And you know Tovar. He’s the epitome of a psychopath. He wouldn’t think twice about slitting her throat and throwing her head in the streets just to prove a point.”

  “You know I hate that son of a bitch.”

  “I know. And that’s exactly why I know you’ll be the perfect perso
n to take this assignment.”

  Brandon rubbed at the stubble on his chin and looked over at his former commander. “Shit.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” Carl grinned.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Carl handed Pari a slip of paper, and she nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “What’s the plan then?” Brandon asked.

  “There’s an island in the outer banks of North Carolina. Long Point Island. About fifty acres or so. It’s private. The two closest islands to it are vacant right now, and this time of year, we’re still months away from the tourist season.”

  “So we’ll have privacy for a while. Then what? It’s not like Tovar is going to just go away. If she killed his son, that bastard will never give up.”

  “We’re buying time for now. Listen.” Carl motioned for Brandon to lean in. “This is strictly confidential, and if his daughter’s life wasn’t at stake, he probably wouldn’t have even told me. But the Pentagon finally think they may have a solid case against Tovar.”

  “In the attacks?”

  “Sorry, man. I don’t think we’ll ever get him for that.”

  Brandon cringed. He’d never forget how that day changed his life. And he despised anyone who helped make it happen.

  “So what do they have then? What kind of case are they building?”

  “It’s no longer just drugs or arms dealing. There appears to be ties to weapons trading.”

  “Oh come on, Carl. We’ve been hearing that for years.”

  “No, man. Not just weapons. Biological weapons. Our sources tell us that he is funding a major terrorist cell.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “He’s the worst kind, Brandon. You know this.”

  Brandon picked up the photo of the woman. “What’s her name?”

  “Alena. Alena Powers.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep her safe. No way in hell will I let that ass hurt one more person. Not on my watch.”

  Chapter Two

  Alena stepped off the boat onto the rocky island shore. The day was sunny but windy, forcing her to bunch her sweater up against her body to protect herself from the icy chill.