Men Out of Uniform: 6 Book Omnibus

by Rhonda Russell

  He nodded. “Wasn’t good enough.”

  “Was the mission a success?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it worthy?”

  He swallowed, nodded.

  “Then you didn’t fail. You just lost a friend in the process.”

  Payne’s wintry blue gaze caught and held hers and the intensity she saw there made her breath catch. “I can’t lose you. It would-- I can’t-- I’m in love with you, Emma.”

  Emma’s eyes watered and a light winging sensation took flight in her chest. “I love you, too.”

  “Kiss her already!”

  Startled, Emma glanced at the big SUV parked at the curb. Guy McCann, Jamie Flanagan and a petite dark-haired woman--Jamie’s wife, she imagined--were all watching them avidly from the comfort of the warm car. “Shut-up,” Payne told them, exasperated.

  He lifted her straight off the pavement, then planted a long, slow kiss on her lips.A tightly braided strand of longing, love and desire wound its way through her and a giddy laugh bubbled up her throat.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” Payne growled, smiling softly. “It’s insulting.”

  EPILOGUE

  “How was school?” Payne called from the kitchen.

  Emma hung her backpack on the peg next to the door and followed the scent of marinated vegetables and grilled chicken. The Tower--her new home--was equipped with top of the line equipment and she imagined she was one of the only students in her class who got to come home to a fabulous meal cooked by a bad-ass former Ranger...in a Kiss the Cook apron.

  She chuckled, shook her head. “Where did you get that?” Emma asked him.

  “Where do you think? You’re mother.”

  Emma chuckled. “She’s grateful.” In addition to satisfying the mortgage, Payne had bought This Bud’s For You and put Darcy Marcus to work for her mother. Needless to say, Lena was thrilled. It’s what her mother liked to refer to as poetic justice. Emma was just thankful.

  “You’ve fixed a lot,” she commented, noting there was enough food to feed an army, or at least a small former part of one.

  “Guy, Jamie and Audrey are coming up. Jamie and Audrey are down from Maine. They flew in this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Emma shook her head. “Not at all.” She sidled forward and slid her arms around Payne’s waist. She pressed a kiss against his chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What the apron says.”

  Payne growled low in his throat, bent his head and found her mouth. Fire licked through her veins and a bubble of desire burst in her belly, sending whorls of heat swirling through her.

  “Geez, God, don’t you guys ever stop?” Guy remarked strolling in.

  Emma chuckled and Payne shot his friend an annoyed look. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  “I did.” He smiled, rather weakly. “Evidently when your fiancé puts her tongue in your mouth, you go deaf.”

  “It’s a talent,” Emma told him. “Maybe someday you’ll find a girl who can make you go deaf as well.”

  Guy rolled his eyes, grimaced. “Let’s hope not.”

  Payne stilled and studied his friend. “You’re in an uncommonly foul mood. What’s wrong?”

  Guy collapsed onto the couch, tilted his head back and sighed. “I just got off the phone with Garrett. It’s my turn.”

  Payne stilled. “What does he want?”

  He shot Payne a droll look. “He’s wants me to do a special trust-building session for special forces teams at Fort Benning in a couple of weeks,” he drawled.

  Emma looked at Payne to gauge his response. “So it’s not as bad as you thought, then.”

  Guy looked up and his unreadable troubled gaze connected with Payne’s. “You think?”

  “You’re not guarding a grand-daughter or going on a treasure hunt,” Payne said, shrugging as though he didn’t follow.

  “No.” He smirked. “I’m just going back into the military.” He said it as though it were the equivalent of a death sentence.

  An unspoken look of communication passed between them, then understanding dawned and Emma inwardly winced for Guy. She cast Payne a sympathetic glance and he squeezed her fingers.

  Garrett might have sentenced Jamie to an unethical errand, Payne to a degrading one, but he was sending Guy McCann right back into the very place he’d never wanted to be again--the military.

  His own personal hell.

  THE MAVERICK - Sneak Peek!

  Read on for a sneak peek at Guy McCann’s story, THE MAVERICK.

  PROLOGUE

  Losing his touch, hell, Colonel Carl Garrett thought, mortified by the ugly vicious rumor. He scowled and watched the antique pocket watch--General Robert E. Lee’s no less--suspended from his index finger spin slowly in mid-air. He hadn’t spent the past thirty-three years in the military and received his most recent commendation for meritorious service only to be ushered out to pasture to make way for up-and-coming wannabes, dammit.

  Him? Retire?

  He was certainly old enough, of course, and his wife periodically asked when he planned to hang up his hat, so to speak, but Garrett simply couldn’t wrap his mind around being...useless. Of no longer being of value. His days were filled with purpose, a noble one he’d been proud of from the first moment he’d entered the service, a wet-behind-the-ears punk with more attitude than sense. The military had thrashed some sense into him, had given him a goal and a dream and the idea of letting those go, of puttering around his greenhouse and trailing along behind his wife at the grocery store were simply...excruciating for him.

  The murmurs and rumors of his imminent retirement-- when he’d never entertained the thought--had started immediately following his commendation and in retrospect, Garrett realized now he should have seen it for what it was--a nice career-ender, the cherry on top of the sundae.

  While he knew he commanded the respect of the majority of his peers, he also knew there were a few people around here who wished that he’d move on and make room for new blood. Naturally, one didn’t get to his level and not make a few enemies. But the idea of doing that was as out of the question now as it had been the first time the issue of his retiring had come up.

  Garrett wasn’t finished yet. He still had work to do, and to prove that he was as every bit as sharp as he’d always been, the evidence of that statement was sitting right outside his office--impatiently, of course and most likely annoyed and bitter as hell--right this very minute. The thought drew a smile, one of few he’d had over the past few weeks.

  Guy McCann--his maverick.

  In all of his years in service, Garrett had never met a man with better instincts and the balls to follow them, no matter how risky the move might be. And when it came to instilling confidence and leading a team, Guy McCann had been the best of the best. He’d led Project Chameleon, one of the best covert operation special forces units the Army had ever known, on more than two dozen highly dangerous missions--and had been successful each and every time, an unparalled record.

  His days of service were over, of course, but if McCann could teach this new team Garrett had put together a fraction of the skill he possessed, then that would put an end to the rumors that he’d lost his touch--Garrett grimaced at the mere thought--that he should be put out to pasture.

  The proof was in the pudding, so to speak, and Garrett was counting on McCann to whip up something special.

  Given McCann’s present state of mind, Garrett putting his faith in the troubled former Ranger might not be the most prudent move, but like McCann, there were times when a man simply had to follow his instincts and each and every one of Garrett’s told him that McCann needed to fulfill this favor just as much as Garrett needed him to be successful.

  Garrett scowled, winced, thought of the coming confrontation. Pity they were about to get off to such a bad start.

  CHAPTER 1

  Pecker filleted with a butter knife.

  Balls removed with flaming pinchers.

  Star
ving hyenas feasting upon his privates.

  And those were the least gruesome scenarios of what Guy McCann would rather be facing--or more accurately where he’d rather be at the moment, he thought with a smirk as he waited impatiently in Colonel Carl Garrett’s outer office.

  Fort Benning, Georgia--the last damned place on God’s green earth he’d ever wanted to be again.

  Though there was absolutely no true humor in the situation, he chuckled darkly anyway. A grenade of nausea sat in his gut, threatening to detonate and his entire body vibrated with the need to flee--to be anywhere but here. It was too much. Too hard. Regret, failure and grief twisted his insides until his fists involuntarily clenched and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, forcing away the image of his fallen friend.

  Danny Levinson. Killed in action. His fault.

  Guy released a small breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. While other people gazed across the beautiful grounds of Fort Benning proper and saw a rolling landscape dotted with enormous old trees, Guy only saw...hell. His own personal variety, because being here was like being plugged directly into the worst part of himself.

  The last time he’d sat outside Garrett’s office it had been to barter for his freedom. He’d thought at the time that he’d be willing to pay any price, would grant Garrett any favor--the Colonel’s fee for pushing their clearance papers through.

  He, Jamie Flanagan and Brian Payne--his friends and Project Chameleon partners--had been involved in an off-base brawl which could have held them up indefinitely and, considering that the Army had tried every way in the world to get the three of them to rethink leaving the military to start with, Guy had to admit that they’d handed them the perfect opportunity to make that happen. Garrett had pulled a hat trick and for that he would be forever grateful.

  Grateful enough--grudgingly, of course--to even come back here for a week.

  And it was only a week he reminded himself. Actually, less. Five days. He blew out a breath. Five miserable days, then the rest of his life would be his own and he could return to Ranger Security--their post-military career choice--a free man. Not free from the guilt, of course--he’d never get past that, wouldn’t allow himself the luxury--but free from Garrett and the military, at any rate.

  It was a start, however feeble.

  “The Colonel will see you now,” Garrett’s secretary said, startling Guy out of his unpleasant reverie. He nodded briefly at her, then stood and strode into Garrett’s inner sanctum.

  An impression of power and the strangely comforting scent of cherry tobacco greeted him the instant he entered the room. Garrett sat behind a large gleaming desk, but found his feet and extended his hand as Guy approached.

  Despite Garrett’s choice in their favors--Jamie had been sent to Maine under the impression that he would be guarding the Colonel’s granddaughter only to arrive and discover that he was supposed to pseudo-seduce her away from another man, and Payne had been dispatched to Gettysburg, the object of a bet, to retrieve a pocket-watch which had been rumored to belong to General Robert E. Lee--Guy had nevertheless always had the utmost respect for Garrett. He was a patriotic old war-horse whose piss-and-gravel voice had been honed on the battlefield, then later respected in the boardroom.

  Furthermore, only a hell-raiser could recognize another hell-raiser and Guy had caught that reckless fuck-you identifying spark in Garrett’s sharp blue eyes the instant he’d first looked into them more than four years ago.

  “So, how does it feel to be back?” Garrett asked, his face wreathed in a knowing smile.

  “It sucks.”

  Garrett chuckled. “Blunt as usual, I see.”

  “Blunt works.” He settled himself in one of the chairs positioned in front of Garrett’s desk. “It doesn’t leave much room for misunderstandings.”

  His expression remained bland. “It would serve you better tempered with a little tact.”

  True, he knew, Guy conceded with a small shrug, but tact had never been his style. He’d walked on eggshells around his miserable old man until he’d gotten big enough to fight back. At that point he and tact had parted ways and Guy didn’t give a damn if they ever reunited. Wit, strength, luck and his ability to never mince words had served him well over the years. Being of the if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it school of thought, Guy wasn’t interested in changing the status quo. The world could accept him for who he was or go to hell. It was as simple as that.

  “I’m not here to receive a lecture on tact,” Guy told him. “I’m ruining your Sunday--and Gladys’s,” he added, jerking his head toward the outer office. “--because I’m here for instructions. I’m assuming you’ve got them?”

  Garrett leaned back in his chair and scowled, his brushy brows forming an intimidating line. “If it’s all the same to you, McCann, I’ll set the pace for this meeting. You’ll get your instructions in due time.” He paused. “As it happens, we’re waiting on someone and I’d just as soon not have to repeat myself.”

  A chill landed in Guy’s belly and all senses went on point. He arched a brow. “Waiting for someone?”

  Garrett picked up a small crystal paperweight and carefully polished it on his sleeve. “Yes.”

  When he failed to elaborate, Guy exhaled an irritated breath and asked the obvious question. “Who?”

  “Julia Beckam.”

  The name didn’t ring any bells of recognition, but for whatever reason, a warning sounded instead. Which was ridiculous, dammit. It was merely a name, that of the feminine variety, admittedly, but just a name all the same. Guy gritted his teeth, waited for Garrett to supply further information.

  Naturally, he didn’t.

  “Who exactly is Julia Beckam?” Guy asked tightly.

  Garrett looked up. “She’s your co-instructor.”

  A premonition of dread sent a wash of cold chills over his suddenly hot skin and his first instinct was to leap from his chair, tell Garrett to go to hell and leave Fort Benning so fast it would make the world spin in the opposite direction. Images of his newly shackled and affianced friends loomed largely in his mind, no small wonder considering they’d been taunting him with predictions of falling in love on his mission for Garrett as well.

  Ironically, both Jamie and Payne had found the love of their lives while repaying the Colonel their favors. To make matters worse, he’d not only taken the ribbing from his smug friends, but had been forced to listen to their significant others--Audrey and Emma--gleefully ooo and goo over how fabulous it would be to see the wind knocked out of Guy’s sails.

  Or more to the point, an anchor in the form of a ring around his finger.

  Like hell.

  A tornado of rage swirled around his brain, making it difficult for him to speak without growling. “I wasn’t aware that I had a co-instructor.”

  Garrett actually smiled at him. “How would you when I hadn’t told you yet?”

  Feeling every muscle in his body atrophy with anger, Guy shifted forward in his seat. “I think you’ve mistaken me for Payne,” Guy told him, his voice lethally controlled. “Honor and an unfailing sense of duty have never been my strong suit. I will not be misled like Jamie, nor lied to like Payne. In fact, you can safely assume that unless you level with me completely right now, then favor or not, I will walk out of here and you’ll play hell ever getting me back. I owe you. I know that.” He shot Garrett a hard look. “But I will not be manipulated.”

  A beat slid to five while Garrett considered him. “The only manipulation I’m guilty of is leaving Ms. Beckam’s involvement in this training session a mystery to you,” he finally said, evidently opting to take Guy’s threat seriously. A good decision, since he’d been fully prepared to back it up.

  “And you did that because?” Guy prompted.

  Garrett shrugged. “Would you have come if I’d told you that a female relationship therapist would be teaching alongside you?”

  “Hell, no,” Guy replied without preamble. A relationship therapist? He snorted. “You’ve paired m
e up with a shrink?”

  “She’s a therapist,” Garrett corrected. “The daughter of an old friend of mine and she’s at the top of her field. Recent studies suggest that the dynamic between teams and couples share many of the same facets. Trust, of course, being the most important in both. A spouse who doesn’t trust or respect a partner leads to trouble. It’s the same scenario with our special forces teams. You know that. If you don’t trust the guy who’s giving the order, don’t respect him, then what happens?” Garrett pulled a face. “Everything goes to hell in a hand-basket. The chain of command is broken.”

  He knew all about that, Guy thought, jerked back into a memory he desperately didn’t want to explore. Gunfire, the spray of sand, then Jamie topping the hill, Danny hanging limply in his arms. The image was permanently etched into his brain, almost as though it had been tattooed there.

  It was the moment--no, the instant--that life as he’d known it forever changed.

  He’d gone from being a bad-ass Ranger with a penchant for bending the rules just shy of the breaking point to a broken-hearted friend who no longer deserved the respect of his peers.

  And trust? Sweet God. It was laughable. Garrett wanted him to teach other men how to trust each other when he no longer trusted himself? When it was Danny’s misplaced trust that had landed him in Arlington? Hell, he was the last damned person who should be teaching this particular subject. How on earth Garrett had failed to grasp that was out of Guy’s immediate understanding. The Colonel wasn’t ordinarily so thick.

  Did he see the similarities between couples and teams? Certainly. But that didn’t mean he wanted to share the floor with a bonafide romantic--and she’d have to be to be in her profession, right?--and listen to her lecture about getting in touch with “feelings” and “emotions” and all that other crap.

  He swallowed a roar and felt a tick develop near his right eye.

  Garrett paused, seemed to be weighing his words. “The team which you will be instructing is Project Chameleon’s replacement, McCann. You are aware of the nature of the job, you know what’s at stake. It’s imperative that this team comes together well and is equipped with every necessary advantage I can give it. Presently, the benefit of your expertise and experience offers the best hope for its success. I realize that you don’t want to be here, but for the sake of the men I’m going to entrust into your care for the next few days, I’m counting on you to use some of that legendary skill for their benefit.”