Blind Ambition

by Gwen Hernandez

  Later, when they had both caught their breath and their bodies had cooled, Alexa propped her head on one hand and faced him. “Okay, let’s talk house hunting.”

  Dan covered his head and groaned. “Now?”

  She lifted the pillow. “You’ve been avoiding this conversation all week. What’s going on?”

  He tugged the sheet up to hide their nakedness and rubbed a hand over his face. Without looking at her, he said, “I don’t want money to be a thing between us, but this home search worries me.”

  Her stomach knotted. Despite everything they’d been through, she knew the difference in their net worth bothered him. She tried to be sensitive to that while still providing for Flore. “I lived comfortably in shacks smaller than this bedroom for years. Trust me, I don’t need anything fancy.”

  “I’m pretty sure your idea of fancy doesn’t jive with mine.” He sat up, all tousled and handsome, and looked down at her. “But I don’t want you to give up the good life just because I have issues.”

  “Dan, I have no desire for the trappings of wealth that my dad has. All that stuff is for show. He needed it to prove to the world that he’d made it. But none of it ever made any of us happy.” She rose and faced him, stroking his cheek. “The things that matter to me can’t be packed into boxes. You and Flore are what’s most important.”

  She slid from the bed and retrieved a stack of papers from the small desk tucked into a corner of the room. Tossing them on the bed, she said, “I know the D.C. area’s not cheap, but we have a chance to raise Flore—and our future children—in a multi-cultural setting with incredible opportunities. These are nice homes, not too big, in safe neighborhoods with good schools and a decent commute for both of us.”

  He ignored her nudity and flipped through the listings. “I’ve looked at them. They’re all four bedrooms and at least three thousand square feet. We don’t need that much space.” Crumpling the top sheet, he said, “I doubt I can cover even half of the mortgage on any of these, never mind fill them with furniture.”

  This is where it got tricky, she knew. He had so much pride. She climbed onto the bed and sat on his thighs so they were face to face, and took his jaw between her hands. “I want to have babies with you.”

  His look softened and his lips parted, but she cut him off.

  “I know it’s not strictly necessary, but I’d really like our children to have their own rooms. And a yard to play in with a neighborhood full of other kids. And access to a good education. And room for Grandma Shue to visit.”

  “I want all those things for our children too,” he said. The “but” was evident in his voice.

  She placed her fingertips on his lips. “Just hear me out.”

  He watched her and waited.

  “Most of my money came from my father. I didn’t do anything to earn it. But with your help, I’d like to continue to give away as much of it as possible.” She raked her fingers through his hair, loving the silky thickness of it. “But after all we’ve been through—together, apart—I think we deserve this one thing. A house.” And maybe a second one in St. Isidore, but that was a conversation for another day. “And then we spend the rest of our lives helping those who need it more than we do.

  “I’d like to start with St. Isidore. I’ve been directing my money to NGOs working there for years, but there has to be a way to create jobs. Jobs for the families of children like Jazzie and Esther and Carter so they can finally bring them home. People who want to work and raise their children, but their lives have been torn apart by disaster. I want to help that island become strong again now that Frederick is gone and SIR has disintegrated. I want Flore to see the potential of her native country, the good in the people there.”

  Dan nodded and toyed with a piece of her hair.

  Buoyed, she said, “I’ll run the foundation, and you can keep working at Steele, or whatever you want.” She held her breath.

  “And I’ll do my best to quit looking this gift horse in the mouth.” He sighed and kissed her. “Especially since the only mouth I’m interested in is yours.”

  She smiled and said, “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to keep my name.”

  He tilted his head as if thinking it over. “I’m okay with that.”

  “It wasn’t up for debate.” She gave him a mock punch to the arm. “But I mean Alyssa.”

  “Really?” He sat back against the headboard and studied her. “Why?”

  “Because the two people I love most in this world know me as Alyssa. Alexa is that poor little rich girl full of grief and guilt. Alyssa is strong enough to break free of that baggage and take the life she wants.”

  Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear. “And I love it when you call me Lys.”

  He grinned.

  “I love you,” she said. She’d held the words in for so long, she found herself dropping them on him with ridiculous frequency now.

  Dan leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing a trail to the base of her neck and lingering there until she melted against him. “I love you too, Lys.”

  THANK YOU!

  Thank you for reading Blind Ambition. I hope you enjoyed it!

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  Did you miss Mick and Jenna’s story? Continue reading for a preview of Blind Fury.

  Thanks!

  Gwen

  gwenhernandez.com

  BLIND FURY EXCERPT

  SHE’S DESPERATE TO LEARN THE TRUTH

  When always-play-it-safe Jenna Ryan starts questioning how her brother died in Afghanistan, someone decides she must be stopped. Permanently. Her brother’s best friend—a sexy thrill-seeker she can’t stop thinking about—won’t reveal what he knows about the fatal shoot-out, putting Jenna at odds with the only man she trusts to keep her alive.

  THE TRUTH IS THE ONE THING HE CAN’T GIVE HER

  Former special forces operator Mick Fury would give his life to keep his best friend’s irresistible sister safe. He took an oath to stay silent about their last mission, but Mick’s will is tested by the white-hot attraction to Jenna he’s tried to ignore for years. Now he must risk everything—even falling in love—to protect her from the truth that could destroy them both.

  CHAPTER ONE

  In the land of dust and sand, things got messy when it rained. Mick Fury’s boots made sucking sounds in the mud left behind by a morning shower as he strode along the graffiti-covered blast wall that ran the perimeter of Kandahar Airfield.

  He kept pace with Rob Ryan, ignoring the kerosene scent of jet fuel assaulting his nose as they headed to meet up with their Claymore Security teammates. They were scheduled to train local police recruits in tactical shooting techniques today. A worthy exercise if the trainees stayed alive long enough to use their new skills. Unfortunately, cops in Afghanistan were one of the Taliban’s favorite targets.

  Rob waggled a large rip-proof envelope addressed to his sister in Virginia. “Let me drop this in the mail on our way.”

  They detoured to the makeshift post office. “Did I forget Jenna’s birthday or something?” Mick asked.

  “Have you ever remembered it?” Rob ribbed him.

  Actually, he had. Every year. November twenty-fifth.

  “No,” Rob said when he didn’t answer. “It’s just some notes and stuff that I don’t have room for in my bag.”

  “So you’re really not coming back?” A lead weight settled on Mick’s chest. He and Rob had been best friends and teammates for twelve years. They’d had each other’s backs through boot camp, pararescue training, and now at Claymore. If Rob left in two weeks like he planned, then Mick would be le
ft here with only his friend Dan Molina and a bunch of assholes, the kind who thrived in an industry where the rules of civilization didn’t apply.

  The brotherhood he’d experienced in the Air Force—putting the members of the team above all else—had been hard to find in the world of private security contracting. Any one of them could walk away at any time, and some of the guys were outright criminals who’d never be allowed to carry a gun in the States.

  “I’m really not coming back,” Rob said, stuffing the envelope into a slot in the shipping containers that masqueraded as a post office. “And you shouldn’t either.”

  It was an old argument. The constant stress, the poor management, and the barren surroundings chafed like a tight shoe. But there was no substitute for the adrenaline rush. There was something about cheating death that made him feel alive like nothing else could.

  “What else can I do?” Mick asked. “Every time we go home, I’m happy for about two weeks. And then it all starts to seem so pointless, so boring.” And quiet. There was nothing worse than being left alone with his thoughts. At least here in this hellhole he knew without a doubt that he was good for something.

  Rob shoved his hands in his front pockets and rubbed a heel in the mud while they waited for the others to show up. “You think I don’t feel the same way? But every time I leave, the look in Jenna’s eyes nearly rips my heart out. I can’t do that to her anymore.”

  Mick knew that look. Had memorized it long ago, along with everything else about the one woman who was off limits to him…and not just because Rob had threatened to permanently end his sex life if he tried anything.

  He couldn’t toy with the heart of a woman who’d suffered so much already. Jenna was the kind of girl you married and took home to Mom. Not Mick’s usual type. She was smart and sweet, hardly a seductress. But somehow he couldn’t get her pale, almost-gray eyes and schoolgirl freckles out of his head.

  “What will you do?” he asked Rob, bringing himself back to the ugly reality of Afghanistan. “I can’t see you settling down to a desk job and a white picket fence.”

  Rob laughed, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Screw that. I was talking to Dan, and he knows a guy who’s a flight medic for one of those MedEvac helicopters. They also do search and rescue missions. I’ll have to go to school first, but it’ll be worth it. It will be like being in the PJs again, but without anyone shooting at you.”

  “Then where’s the thrill?” Mick asked, not entirely joking. He plastered on his trademark carefree smile and tapped his rifle. He never should have left pararescue, but the money he’d been offered to join Claymore had been impossible to resist.

  His friend shook his head. “Just think about it, okay?”

  “Sure.” He’d think about it. In fact, he already thought about it almost daily. Jesus, why couldn’t he be normal? When he was here, he wanted to go home—drive his new Camaro, flirt with girls, party with his friends; and when he was back in Virginia he could hardly stand it. The tedium and pettiness of Stateside life was suffocating. At least things made sense here.

  His job was to survive. Simple as that.

  “Hey.” Rob grabbed Mick’s arm as a large armored vehicle rumbled past, leaving deep grooves in the mud. “Promise me one thing.” He looked way too serious for Mick’s taste. Even more serious than usual.

  “What’s that?”

  “If something happens to me, you’ll leave Claymore and take care of Jenna.”

  Oh, hell no. They were not going to have this conversation. Not right before going outside the wire. He bounced his eyebrows at Rob and forced a smile. “Take care of her, huh?”

  “Yeah, and that includes protecting her from guys like you.” Rob ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Come on, man. I mean it. I’ll feel better knowing that she wouldn’t be left alone.”

  “We’ve been here for two years. Why are you asking me this now?” Mick wrinkled his nose as the wind shifted, bringing with it the pungent odor of the sewage treatment plant—aka The Poo Pond. “Did something happen?”

  Rob glanced around and shook his head with feigned indifference that didn’t fool Mick for a second. “No, I’m just being, you know, superstitious now that I’ve given my notice. If I don’t leave any loose ends, then nothing will happen.”

  He was full of crap, but Mick let it go. “Dude, you don’t even have to ask. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister of my own.” Except for the very un-brotherly thoughts he had about her. “But you’re the one who’s going to be there for her, so it doesn’t matter. You’re going to go home, find a job, get a dog, and meet a girl. In another year, I won’t recognize you. You’ll probably even own a minivan.” Mick pulled a face, like he couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

  Rob’s shoulders visibly relaxed and the line between his eyebrows softened. What the hell was going on with him? He’d never been this tightly wound before.

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  Mick consulted his palm as if it were a notebook, and pretended to cross something out. “By my calculations, that makes us even.” He grinned. “Hell, if I’d known you were this easy to get square with, I would have offered months ago.”

  Rob finally laughed, and the knot in Mick’s chest loosened.

  “Hey, ladies. You ready to run the gauntlet?” Three of their crew trudged toward them, nine millimeters in their thigh holsters and M4s strapped to their chest rigs, always at the ready. Dressed in khaki pants and polo shirts, they looked like an army of muscle-bound frat boys.

  Mick and Rob fit right in.

  “As long as you brought your diapers this time, Beavis,” Mick called out, using the nickname the man had earned for his rat-like resemblance to the animated character. “I don’t want shit to get all over the seats if we take fire.”

  Beavis flipped him off and they walked toward their armored vehicles to meet up with the rest of the group for the briefing.

  Just another day in paradise.

  An hour later, Mick dropped to his knees in the mud next to Rob. “No, no, no!” He tore at his friend’s mangled body armor and sticky, wet shirt and—oh God, no. He spread his hands over the ragged mess that used to be his friend’s chest, as if he could hold him together by magic. His skills as a medic were of no use to him with an injury this bad… All he could do was try to stop the alarming flow of blood. “Damn it, Rob, hang on for me. You’re going home, remember? Come on, come on.”

  Fucking Murphy and his law. Rob should have known better than to announce that he was going home right before they went outside the wire. Everyone knew a convoy was an easy target for roadside bombs and insurgent attacks.

  Today, they’d managed to find both.

  This can’t be happening. Mick adjusted his position and pressed harder. Rob couldn’t die; he was one of the good ones. Jenna needed her brother.

  Mick needed him.

  “Jenna,” Rob whispered, clutching weakly at Mick’s arm. His look said he knew he wouldn’t make it.

  Mick blinked against the burn of hot tears and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for her until you’re on your feet again. Just stay with me.” But the blood wouldn’t fucking stop. It bubbled through his fingers, warm and sticky and relentless.

  Rob closed his eyes and mumbled.

  Mick leaned close to hear him over the noise of engines, men shouting, and the buzzing in his ears left by the ricochet of gunfire. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  Sharp smoke stung his nose as Mick surveyed the carnage surrounding them. The barren ground was covered with lifeless figures slicked with mud and blood. He closed his eyes briefly to block out the images, but like so many other horrors he’d witnessed, the scene would haunt him forever.

  No way in hell would he ever want to talk about it. Keeping this horrific moment from Jenna was an easy promise to make. “Never.”

  Want more? Get BLIND FURY in e-book or paperback at your favorite online retailer.

  A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Blind Ambition did not come to life without a lot of help.

  I could not do this without the love and support from my husband and our two boys. And Zoe the golden retriever, who forces me to get out of my chair for walks.

  My Kiss & Thrill sisters Sharon Wray, Krista Hall, Rachel Grant, Lena Diaz, Manda Collins, Diana Belchase, Carey Baldwin, and Sarah Andre are essential to my sanity, and bring joy and friendship to this solitary profession. Special thanks to Rachel, Diana, Sarah, and Krista for their spot-on comments—even the painful ones—and helpful brainstorming during an early read.

  Thanks to Jessa Slade whose editorial pen helped me fine-tune Dan and Alexa’s story, and to Kimberly Killion for creating exactly the cover I’d envisioned.

  And thanks to you for reading!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Gwen Hernandez was a manufacturing engineer and programmer before she turned to writing romantic suspense. She’s also the author of Scrivener For Dummies and teaches Scrivener (writing software) to writers all over the world.

  She loves to travel, read, jog, practice Kung Fu, and explore the Boston area where she currently lives with her Air Force husband, two teenage boys, and a lazy golden retriever.

  BLIND AMBITION

  ISBN: 978-0991607310

  Copyright © 2015 by Gwen Hernandez

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at gwen@gwenhernandez.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.