Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Antilla Smooth wasn’t my lover.” She met her brother’s eyes.

  He coughed and squirmed. “Didn’t know that was the discussion we were having.”

  Cash’s face didn’t register anything other than fury. If he didn’t believe her, that was his problem. It didn’t matter anyway.

  Rocco picked up their slack. “Why were you running through the woods? Barefoot.”

  “Better yet, why were you all over him?”

  So Cash did want to join in the conversation. He seemed to ping pong between hurt and jealousy. She couldn’t blame him.

  She studied Roman instead of answering because she didn’t know what to say. His eyebrows bunched. Then she glanced at his bicep. No, no. A memorial tattoo. RIP. Her year of birth. Her year of death.

  Sucking a breath, she breathed out, “I’m sorry.”

  Roman nodded. Nicola watched her big brother, who clearly hurt right now, but didn’t know why.

  “Sorry? You’ve made that clear,” Cash said.

  “Cash, stop.” Her palms felt clammy. “I didn’t freak out on you because I was pissed you killed him. It’s… complicated.”

  “Yeah, today’s the definition of complicated.”

  Rocco interrupted. “Dude, calm it down. She’s not going to talk to us with you up in her grill. Nicola, go on.”

  “Who do you guys work for?” she asked, curious, but really buying time until her brain registered a what-to-say-now plan.

  “Nope, not your turn yet.” Rocco stated it like he was wrangling an out-of-line preschooler.

  She closed her eyes, then blinked. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Try the day you died.” Cash used air quotes around died.

  Rocco knocked him in the shoulder, and Roman grumbled.

  “Cash and I…” She stole a glance at Cash. An indecipherable flash in his eyes said that he’d never told Roman.

  “You and Cash what?” Roman asked.

  “Never mind. Simple version. Remember my job in college? I worked part-time for an accounting firm, translating international accounts. Unknowingly, I stumbled onto a money laundering scheme. I didn’t know it, but one of our clients was a mobster who did a lot of business overseas. I’d been tracking cash-for-hire assassinations and hadn’t a clue. Once I connected the dots, I couldn’t believe the truth. Then I naively showed up and accidently saw a goon-squad massacre. Wrong place, wrong time. I’d figured out they were killers, but then I actually saw them murder a man. Too bad that they also saw me. I ran out as the FBI swooped in. A sting operation. Their timing was good for me, bad for the other guy.” She shook her head, remembering the first time she’d watched someone die. “I was in federal protection by the end of the day.”

  “Bullshit. It doesn’t work like that.” Cash slapped the table.

  “Sometimes it does.”

  “But you still go by Nicola?” Roman asked.

  She nodded.

  “Because?”

  “I eventually left federal protection and took a job where I was… safe. I never got used to a different name. I’m Nic. It just worked.”

  Roman kneaded his temples. “You didn’t call. Send a damn letter. Nothing.”

  “I thought it would be better. Safer. I had a hard enough time adjusting to life without you all. Mom’s face if she got a letter from me? Dad would go insane trying to find me. You and Cash…” Remembering the decisions still hurt. “I had to.”

  “You walked away from your life to help prosecute some low life piece of trash?” Pain was evident in the scratch of Roman’s voice.

  “You walked away from us?” Cash followed up, and she knew he meant him and her, not their three musketeers.

  “I walked away to stay alive. The mobsters knew me, knew what I was privy to. The FBI sting took out a few members, but not the whole organization. I had to disappear. My death had to be untimely and coincidental. If not, those same contract killers would’ve found me—our family—and made me watch as they hurt everyone I loved. The mob had to believe I’d died running away from them. What would you do, Roman? You’d endanger our parents? Me? No, you wouldn’t. You’d do what it took to protect them. Just like I did.”

  Cash and Roman seemed lock-jawed. Rocco asked, “Wait? You were trying to protect them?”

  “I did protect them.”

  “You didn’t give us a chance. I’m your brother, for fuck’s sake. You should’ve talked to me.”

  “I didn’t have time. The FBI gave me thirty seconds to decide. They showed me crime photos and asked if I’d help them with the financial paper trail. All I could think was I’d been tracking accounts payable and receivable for murders. A lot of them. I wanted to keep you safe.”

  “Protecting these guys? Shit.” Rocco tipped back on the back legs of his chair. “How ironic.”

  Nicola flashed him a glare. “Ironic? You want to tell me how?”

  “Ah, nah. These fuckers can fill you in later. Why don’t you tell us about tonight?”

  “Can’t.”

  “We’ve already done this song and dance, so let’s cut to it so we can all finish getting drunk and go pass out.” Rocco apparently wasn’t taking any shit.

  “My turn.” She eyed each of them. “Who do you work for? Who sent you?”

  Rocco bounced back down onto all four chair legs. “All right. Fair is fair. A company called The Titan Group.”

  “You work for Titan? All three of you?” The military, hell, the CIA, turned to Titan for jobs they didn’t want on their books. How had Cash and Roman ended up on that payroll?

  She shook her head out of the question cloud, and saw all three bright-eyed and interested as to how she knew Titan Group existed. Damn it. She was off her game. Little mistakes could be her undoing. She needed to tread with serious care.

  Cash answered. “Yeah, all three of us. Roman and I joined the Army after college. We’re a good team. We’re still a team. We’ve been a team since day one. Grade school. High school. Sniper school. But you wouldn’t know anything about that kind of loyalty, would you, Nic?”

  “Lay off, Cash.” Roman’s defense wasn’t that strong, but she appreciated it.

  “What the fuck ever.” Cash punctuated his words with another shot of whiskey.

  “Christ, almighty. What is it with you two?” Roman glared from her to Cash. “You two used to be friends. Do you remember that? Shit.”

  Nicola traced the rim of her shot glass with a manicured nail. “You don’t have to lay off. I can take it. I’m just one of the guys.”

  Roman rolled his eyes, but Cash pinned her with his stare. “Now it’s your turn again. Why were you hanging off Antilla Smooth’s nuts?”

  She deserved that. They were with Titan, and they were her family, once upon a time before she walked away. She could trust them to a point. “I was on the job. Undercover.”

  Roman and Cash might have stopped breathing. They were frozen in shock, ready for a slight breeze to knock them away from the table. Rocco, perked up, more interested in that than the family drama. “No joke? Nice. Whose payroll you on?”

  “Not going there.” She shrugged.

  “How long you been under?”

  “Months. Since the start of spring—”

  “So you were sleeping with him?” Cash interrupted.

  He was going to out himself to Roman if he wasn’t careful. Then the three of them would have that discussion to deal with.

  Then again, Roman looked shell-shocked. He wasn’t registering Cash’s attitude.

  “No. I wasn’t.” She smirked at him. “I was seducing him. Ignoring his advances made his interest in me grow. A manipulative game of cat and mouse. So no, Cash, I didn’t fuck him.”

  Rocco laughed. “Cash doesn’t know anything about women not fucking him. You might have to explain seduction to the man because they just throw themselves at him. He doesn’t have to lay groundwork.”

  Roman laughed too. It was her turn for a flash-bang of jealousy. Cash glared
at Rocco, who apparently took to heart the just-one-of-the-guys line she’d thrown down.

  Cash was handsome, more so than when they were younger. His blond hair could use a haircut, but he was missing his trademark life-is-good attitude. She missed his smile, focusing instead on the width of his chest. All three men had muscles, but Cash was something to appreciate. Even his face looked strong with a hard jaw line that flexed when he tried to contain any number of emotions he had to be feeling.

  Nicola continued. “My op was blown when you took out your target. I called in for an extraction plan. There was another team there. Not sure what happened or why, but they went after me. I did what I needed to.”

  Roman looked up. “And that was?”

  “I shot out a window, jumped two stories, and ran into you assholes.” She tried for a smile, a little humor, but got nothing. A-plus for effort though.

  Cash said, “You shot a window?”

  Roman followed. “And jumped out?”

  “Hey, I’m not an asshole. Just so you know.” Rocco laughed. Weird. Cash was always the one laughing in her memories, and now he was without jokes and zingers.

  “Guess I’m not what you remember,” Nicola whispered, stealing a glance at Cash.

  Roman stood, rubbing his tattoo. It was beautiful, and it was a lie. How did she ever think it was right to hurt them?

  “Nicola.” He kissed her head. “That’s enough for me. For now. I’m headed to bed, knowing you’re alive. Best damn thing ever. And tomorrow, we’ll talk about calling Mom and Dad.”

  She nodded.

  Roman continued, “Cash, Rocco, good night, assholes.”

  Rocco stood, nodded, and bowed out without a word, leaving just her and Cash. Her and Cash and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She nudged the bottle toward him. “Want another?”

  Silence hung in the air.

  She nudged it again. “How about this: do you need another?”

  A smile cracked the thick tension on his chiseled face. “That would be a hell yes.”

  It wasn’t a joke, but it was more his style. She wished he would smile the way he used to. Big and brawny, but so damn beautiful. Just once. “Me, too.”

  He poured them both a shot and watched her down the liquor.

  “Down the hatch, like a pro. Like shooting Jack?”

  “I’m pretty good at a lot of things now, but I’m more of a Jim kinda gal.”

  “You were before too. Good at things and a fan of sweet bourbon. But you dressed your drinks up frou-frou style.”

  “But I’m… a different person now.”

  “I think we both are.”

  “You saw me with Antilla.” Nicola didn’t ask. Just repeated what he’d already told her.

  “Yeah, I did.” He fidgeted with the shot glass, sliding it back and forth between his large hands.

  “Why’d you come up to the house? That couldn’t have been protocol.”

  “I couldn’t not come to see. To really see you. I was having some scope-sighted nightmare. It didn’t make sense. It still doesn’t.”

  She reached for the bottle. Ugh, bad arm. An ache hit her throat and bubbled out. Cash looked at her, forcing her to ’fess up without uttering a question. “I landed on my arm. It’s sprained. I need to wrap and sling it.”

  The thick tension couldn’t have been sliced away with a machete. Seconds ticked by, and the shot glass pinballed between his fingers. Cash studied her arm, and she flushed. “You need help?”

  “No. I think I got it. I’m just going to sit outside for a few minutes.” Because she needed to cool down her hot flash. She hobbled over to the back door and peered at the deck. It had a picnic table, nothing else.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Cash said.

  “You said that already.” She didn’t know what else to say and didn’t want him to go away. But that was exactly the reason he should.

  “So I did.” He breathed the words out slowly and stood. His broad chest loomed, and his beautiful blue eyes twinkled when he nodded good night.

  Good night, Cash.

  They were words she’d thought a thousand times since she left and couldn’t bring herself to say aloud now. What was her deal? One second, she was feeling a little hot under the t-shirt when he looked her way, the next she wanted to sob.

  It didn’t matter what she did or how she felt, he was gone in a blink. Silent and all shadow. Just like a sniper.

  Garrison’s Creed: Chapter Five

  As safe houses went, this wasn’t too shabby: nestled in some generic, upper middle class neighborhood, secluded from the neighbors by tree coverage, and packed with provisions like bourbon and protein bars. Cash couldn’t complain. He couldn’t complain, but he sure as hell couldn’t sleep. Turning over in the bed again, the sheets bothered him no matter whether he kicked them off or tugged them back to his chest.

  He flipped on the television, and despite the thousands of channels he skipped through, nothing held his interest. Well, nothing on the boob tube.

  “I can’t sleep,” he groaned, looking at Betty the Shitkicker, AKA Miss Betty, his .50 cal high-powered rifle. Most of his guns had names, but Betty was the nearest and dearest to his heart. She wasn’t the jealous type, though she was the only long-term girl in his life. Well, long-term since Nicola, but that hadn’t been real. That was two college kids mixed up in each other.

  He laughed, alone in the empty bedroom.

  Hell. No reason to lie to yourself. Miss Betty exists because the real deal left you heartbroken.

  Heartbroken. No other word could describe him.

  He’d been far past puppy love with the flesh-and-blood girl. Nicola was far superior to the molded cheek rest that he’d been nuzzling and four-lb. pull trigger he’d been caressing lately. Nic was something special. He’d sweated their platonic relationship, chasing after her like she was handing out the secret to buried treasure. He knew damn well Roman would kick his ass for thinking of her as anything other than the kid next door.

  And the kid next door she was not. Whoa, baby, the girl was a looker. Then and now.

  Their hometown was small. Everyone talked. People assumed Nicola and Cash were destined to be together. Well, everyone but Roman. He’d wanted nothing to do with his little sister getting noticed by anyone. No Nicola. Not ever.

  As far as Roman was concerned, Nicola should’ve found the Yellow Pages and looked up local convents. He would’ve signed her up for nun duty if it had kept every man on campus from chasing his younger sister. Cash was surprised he hadn’t called up 1-800-CHASTITY-BELT.

  Man alive, did that girl get chased. How he was lucky enough to have her bat those beautiful chocolate eyes at him, Cash had no idea. None. But she did. So innocent. Him, so caught up in the shouldn’t-but-couldn’t-help-it moment.

  Best day of his life, when he’d picked up the phone and seen her text. Come on over, pool party. He’d arrived at the house she shared with some girlfriends, and it was just her. Her in a teeny, tiny green bikini holding an open bottle of wine. Half empty.

  He’d watched, hoped, and thanked God for the brim of his always-there cowboy hat hiding the desire in his gaze.

  Another bottle later, she sat on his lap in the shallow side of the pool, and he thought he’d been pushed into the deep end.

  “You don’t want to kiss me.” Nicola blushed as she said the words, one arm draped over his shoulder, as they hovered on the line of can’t-change-it-once-we-go-there.

  “I don’t?”

  “You don’t?” Her flirtatious blush threatened to turn embarrassed.

  “Oh, hell. Yes, I do.”

  And then he did. Cowboy hat pushed off into the water, floating away, his arms wrapping tightly around her slim shoulders. Even now, it fired his blood. Hot, slow burn. They’d kissed for hours, breathing each other in, floating in the water, bathing suits on, maybe clearing second base. He wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  “All right, Betty. I need to go for a run.” He looked at the rifl
e, and she didn’t say a word. That was good because he thought he’d already lost his mind. If Miss Betty chimed in with something to say, he’d have to call up his boss at Titan and put in for some sick leave.

  Cash jumped out of bed and threw on his Nikes, sweatpants, and a muscle shirt. He grabbed an ankle holster and the .38 that wasn’t a pain to run with, then tucked it in. Making his way through the dark house, he moved past the kitchen and caught sight of Nicola sitting outside. It’d easily been an hour since he’d left her.

  He opened the back door. She looked lost and alone, but so much stronger than he remembered. “You on sentry duty?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  He looked at her arm, free of bandages, and at the sling next to her and the bottle of Jack. No shot glass. “Did you try?”

  “Nope.” Her feet were planted on the picnic table’s bench, and she sat on the table top. “You were asleep?”

  “I tried and failed.” He sat down next to her, opened the bottle, and took a long swig. The liquor’s fire coated his throat, so he took another. Propping his elbows on his knees, he hung his head and passed the bottle, not looking at Nicola.

  Their fingers brushed, sending a cascade of awareness from his hand to his chest. She took the bottle and swallowed a Nicola-sized swig. And then again. “I’m scared to close my eyes. Vivid memories. You know?”

  Yeah, vivid described that green bikini. “I was thinking the same thing. About to head for a run. I needed to clear my frontal cortex.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  All night long, the moon had hidden beneath a blanket of clouds, but that moment, it decided to peek out a sliver, just enough to paint her in a gauzy, milky light. She was beautiful.

  He sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Nic. Does it?”

  “Guess not.”

  She took another pull of Jack and handed it to him. Cash did the same, embracing the thought-pausing sear of liquor. He didn’t know what to think about her sadness-tinged voice. “Give me the wrap.” His run was never going to happen if he sat there making excuses to stay. Still, he took the bandage from her hand.

  She didn’t look at him, keeping steady watch into the woods. “I’m not weak.”