Half-Broke Heart (Combat Hearts #1.5)

by Tarina Deaton

  Half-Broke Heart

  Combat Hearts #1.5

  Tarina Deaton

  Copyright © 2017 by Tarina Deaton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Taylor Sullivan of Imagination Uncovered/Premade Cover Cafe

  Editor: Jessica Snyder of www.jessicasnyderedits.com

  For the A2T2 Readers.

  I can’t tell you how much your support has meant.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  14. Locked-Down Heart

  Acknowledgments

  The Combat Heart Series

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Desire punched Chris in the gut. If sexy had a sound, it would be Denise’s laugh. She wiped a finger under her eye as she trailed off in a deep chuckle.

  “Chris has a somewhat questionable past,” Jase said.

  Denise turned off Magic Mike, shutting Channing Tatum down mid-hip grind. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Grabbing his bag from where he’d dropped it on the floor, Chris raised his eyebrows before following Bree and Jase down the hall to Bree’s guest bathroom. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Denise cross the open living room into the kitchen. Her cut-off shorts were demure by today’s standards, ending a few inches below her butt cheeks, but they showcased her long, tanned legs.

  Looked like agreeing to go to Bree’s for Chinese after camping instead of going home to grilled cheese was going to have more benefits than just the food. He’d been worried he was going to be the uncomfortable third wheel. Now he was uncomfortable for an entirely different reason. He pulled at the front of his cargo pants and shifted his hip a little with his next step.

  Bree stopped in the middle of the hall. “There’s towels and normal soap on the counter.”

  His lips quirked up. “Normal soap?”

  “Not perfumey.”

  He smiled. “Ah. ‘Preciate it.”

  Jase pulled her farther down the hall. “You’re welcome,” she said over her shoulder.

  Chris shut the door and thumbed the lock, dropping his bag on the small wooden stool next to the vanity. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out clean gym shorts and a t-shirt. No underwear. Oh well, he’d just have to keep his mind on innocent topics and off the way those shorts hugged Denise’s perfectly formed ass. Not helping.

  He turned the shower knob all the way to the left and steam filled the room as the water heated. Untying the laces of his boots he kicked them away before pulling his shirt and pants off. He stepped into the shower and ducked his head under the spray, letting the pulsing, hot spray run over his shoulders and back, loosening muscles tight from sleeping in a tent for the last three nights. Not the worst place he’d slept, but definitely not the most comfortable either. He grabbed the bar of soap and worked up a lather, running his hands over his shoulders and chest.

  Denise’s laugh echoed in his mind, sending blood rushing to his groin. He closed his eyes and tugged on his semi-erection, picturing her long, tan legs wrapped around his hips. Fuck.

  His eyes snapped open and he released himself. He couldn’t rub one out in Bree’s shower. Had to get that under control. He lathered up more soap and ran it over his close-cropped hair and three days’ worth of beard.

  His phone chirped twice in quick succession in his pants pocket. Running his hands over his head one more time, sloughing off the last of the soap, he shut off the water. The towel was soft as he ran it over his body and reminded him he needed to get more laundry detergent. Wrapping it around his waist, he dug in his pants for his phone.

  Mtg 0800 Mon

  New TF. You’re lead.

  His gut clenched. If his boss had decided to stand up a new task force, they’d gotten the intelligence they needed. Or shit had gone all to hell. He hoped it was the first option.

  Denise placed her glass on the table beside the recliner and sprawled down in the chair. She rubbed her stomach and raised the footrest. “Ugh. I ate too much food.”

  Bree sat on the end of the couch. “I swear they put something in it that makes it expand after you’ve eaten it.”

  Jase joined Bree on the couch. “Lay down with me.”

  A small pang hit Denise right below her breast bone. She was happy for Bree, seeing her with a guy who obviously cared for her, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever find something like that. Her service dog, Sprocket, whined and laid her head on the armrest, staring at Denise with her soulful brown eyes. Denise scratched her behind the ear.

  Chris flopped down on the other side of the sectional and adjusted the pillow under his head. “Oof.” He curled up when Charlie jumped on the couch and landed on top of him.

  Bree snapped her fingers. “Charlie, get down.”

  But Chris wrapped an arm around Charlie’s big head and rubbed his ears. “Don’t worry about it.” His biceps flexed when he pushed the dog to the side, between his body and the back of the couch.

  Denise felt another pang—lower this time. Her gaze wandered down his stretched-out body. He raised an arm and rested it under his head, pulling the faded black t-shirt up and exposing a sliver of skin on his abdomen. The intricate full-sleeve tattoo moved as he shifted and flexed.

  Her legs twitched, suddenly restless. She’d love to examine his ink further. Not to get close to him, just to see what the tattoo was. She loved what ink said about a person. The story it told. Her own back piece was still a work in progress, only three-quarters finished.

  “Denise.”

  Her eyes refocused, having been mesmerized by the colorful designs. She blinked and looked at Bree. “What?”

  “You with us?” Worry lines marred her forehead.

  “Yeah. Just digesting.”

  “Movie?”

  She picked up the remote. “Oh, yeah.” She flipped through Netflix and queued up The Expendables and some hot, ass-kicking Jason Statham.

  Fifteen minutes into the movie, low snores rose from both Jase and Chris.

  Denise chuckled. “I guess camping takes a lot out of a guy.”

  “I guess so.”

  Thirty minutes later, Denise stood and stretched her arms out over her head. “I’m falling asleep, so I’m going to head out.”

  “Okay, let me untangle myself,” Bree said.

  “No, stay there. I know where the door is.”

  “I know, but I’m going to get blankets for them.” She lifted Jase’s arm from around her waist and rose from the couch. Charlie watched his person stand and raised his head from where it rested on Chris’s legs thend jumped off the couch. His hind paw landed square in the middle of Chris’s crotch, causing him to curl up in a fetal position and groan.

  “Son of a bitch,” he ground out.

  “Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Denise asked.

  “Hell, no, I’m not okay. Shit, that burns.”

  She cringed, but inside was repressing the urge to laugh. “Do you need some ice?”

  “What happened?” Jase sat up and ran his hands through his already sleep-tousled hair.

  “Charlie unmanned Chris.” Bree bit her lip.

  “Seems to be a thing in this house.�
�� Jase stood and stretched, exposing the bottom of his toned abs. “You ready to go or do you need a minute to retract your ball sac?”

  “Screw you,” Chris replied.

  “I’ll pass, thanks for the offer, though.”

  “I can drop him off once he’s recovered enough to walk,” Denise offered.

  “You sure?” Jase dropped an arm over Bree’s shoulders.

  She shrugged. “Sure. No reason for you to leave and come back when I’m leaving anyway.”

  Chris rolled off the couch and landed on his knees, one hand on the floor and the other still cradled around his manhood. Using the couch to brace himself, he stood up but remained hunched over like an old man.

  “Shit, that dog has some pointy paws on him. I can’t imagine how dangerous he’d be if he had all his legs.”

  “Just be glad it wasn’t Sprocket,” Bree said. The large mastiff raised her head.

  Chris looked at the dog, still sprawled next to the chair Denise had vacated. “Please tell me you have a truck for that dog and I don’t have to try to share a seat with it.”

  “SUV. She sits in the cargo area,” Denise said. Not that it would matter. If her dog wanted to sit in the front, he’d damn well ride in the back.

  With a small nod, he hobbled his way to the front door, straightening more with each step until he was mostly upright.

  “Thanks for dinner, Bree. Later, asshole.” He waved a hand in Jase’s direction.

  “Later, shithead.” He clapped Chris on the back as he passed.

  Denise hugged Bree. “It just warms my heart when boys show love and affection for one another.” She followed Chris out the door, Sprocket close on her heels.

  Chapter 2

  The night was filled with a cacophony of sound as insects and bullfrogs vied for acoustic supremacy. One frog in particular seemed to have found the tempo of the pain in Chris’s groin, its croak keeping time with the throb.

  “You doin’ okay?”

  Humor laced her voice and he glared at her. He hadn’t missed her smirk when she’d asked if he needed any ice. Freaking woman had no clue.

  “Yeah. I’ll survive.” He adjusted his gym bag over his shoulder and stayed a few paces behind her. Her hips had a natural sway to them as she walked toward her SUV. He tore his gaze away from her ass.

  “It’s unlocked.” She opened the back hatch of the car. “Up.” The giant dog jumped into the cargo section with surprising agility.

  He opened the rear passenger door and tossed his bag in the back. The dog rested its head on the top of the seat and licked its chops. He swore it was glaring at him. Hefting himself into the passenger seat, he pulled at the crotch of his shorts.

  Denise climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition while pulling her seat belt across her chest. The ‘V’ of her t-shirt dipped low as snapped the belt into place, showing more than a hint of her ample cleavage.

  Get a grip. He ran his hand across his head.

  She turned on her GPS. “Where’re we going?”

  “5339 Old Avalon Drive.”

  Her fingers flew over the screen while he glanced around the older model SUV. His gaze fixed on the gearshift. “You drive a stick?”

  Her thumbs stopped. She looked at him from under her lashes and blinked once. “No.” Her face was devoid of any emotion.

  A slow grin spread across his face. “That was kind of a dumb question, huh?”

  “Little bit.” She winked and propped the GPS on top of the dash.

  “Sorry. Not used to seeing a manual.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I won’t trade it in.” She released the parking brake and pulled away from the curb. “The sticker price on a newer model with a standard transmission is ridiculous.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Sprocket, lay down.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the dog whose head obstructed most of the view out the back window. It disappeared behind the seat with a groan.

  “What kind of dog is she? He?”

  “She. She’s an English Mastiff mix. Not sure what she’s mixed with though.”

  “Horse?”

  A soft, deep chuckle. “I had the same thought when she kept getting bigger.”

  “How long have you had her?

  Her hand loosely gripped the knob of the gear shift as she changed gears. The sleeve of her t-shirt hugged the contour of her arm muscles, hinting at a partial tattoo sleeve. “About four years.”

  “Did you adopt her?”

  Fine tension seemed to vibrate through her and she didn’t look at him as she ease to a stop at a red light. “She was given to me through a program I took part in.” She stared out the windshield and drummed her thumb on the steering wheel. “Sprocket’s a PTSD service dog.”

  “Oh.” A couple of his buddies had PTSD dogs. The change he’d seen in them from before they had their dogs to after had been astounding. He wouldn’t have guessed Denise needed a service dog, but he’d only just met her. “You don’t put her in a vest?” All his friends’ dogs had worn vests identifying them as service animals.

  The light changed and she shifted, easing into the intersection. “I only put it on her when we’re out in public.”

  He leaned against the passenger door, turning his body toward Denise and glanced toward the back. “Why Sprocket?”

  She glanced at him, a bit sheepish. “Fraggle Rock was my favorite show growing up.”

  His grin was instantaneous. “Really?”

  She tore her eyes from the road. “What?”

  He shook his head. No way in hell he was going to tell her he thought it was adorable she named her dog after a Muppet. “Nothin’.” A smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Am I taking you out of the way?”

  “Not too much. It adds about half an hour to my drive.”

  “Sorry about that. I’d’ve had Jase drop me off before if I’d known he was going to stay, but Chinese sounded really good when he asked.”

  She looked at him again. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Your significant other won’t be upset about you being late?

  Her eyebrow arched. “Is that your way of asking if I’m seeing anyone?”

  Smooth, dude. He had no skill at all tonight. “Yeah.”

  Her deep chuckle hit him and the throb in his groin, which had receded, began again for a different reason.

  “No. No significant other. You?”

  Pulling at the material of his shorts, he shifted in the seat. “Nope.”

  “Insignificant other?”

  “A what?”

  “An insignificant other. A fuck buddy.”

  “Oh. No. Don’t have one of those either.”

  “How come?”

  “Why don’t I have a fuck buddy?”

  “Yeah.”

  Their conversation had taken an odd turn. How’d they go from him asking if she had a boyfriend to her asking if he had a fuck buddy?

  “Uh. Time? Interest? I don’t know. Availability?”

  Damn. She had a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled wide.

  “You’re seriously telling me you don’t have an availability of women?” She looked at him while she downshifted to turn right.

  “For a long-term arrangement? No. Hook-ups? Sure. But that’s not what you asked.” He couldn’t think of any other time he’d had such a candid conversation with a woman. “What about you?”

  She shook her head. “No insignificant other. No hook-ups.”

  He threw her question back at her. “You’re telling me you don’t have an availability of men?”

  Her smile turned sardonic. “Ninety percent of the men in my life are of the four-legged variety.”

  He doubted that. Denise was sexy as hell. Add witty and a droll sense of humor on top of that and he’d bet good money guys hit on her all the time.

  He played with the seatbelt across his chest. “Jase said you run a dog rescue.”

  “I do. What about you?”

  “No dog
s.”

  His reward for deliberately misunderstanding her question was another smile and glimpse of her dimple. “What do you do?”

  “FBI.”

  “Agent or support?”

  “Agent.”

  “Huh. What made you choose the FBI?”

  “Did six years in the Army and decided I wanted to be a lawyer.”

  She threw him a confused look. “But you’re not a lawyer.”

  “Hell, no. That shit was boring as fuck.”

  Another deep, sultry laugh. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. She should do voice-overs. For porn.

  “What about your questionable past?”

  “My what?” He’d lost track of the conversation.

  “Jase said you had a somewhat questionable past when you guys got to Bree’s.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that.”

  “College was expensive.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The GI Bill took care of most of it, but if I wanted to eat more than ramen noodles I had to work. I bounced and bartended for a while, but between school and the late hours I was exhausted.”

  She turned into his subdivision. “Okay.”

  “A guy I had a couple of classes with was prior service and seemed to be rolling in dough. I thought he was dealing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I finally asked him about it.”

  “To deal?” Her voice rose with disbelief and she whipped her head around to stare at him.

  “No. My curiosity finally got the best of me and I asked if his family was rich.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed a little. “And?”

  “He was stripping.”

  “Really?” The humor was back in her voice.

  “Yeah. He told me about auditions they were having and the rest is history.”

  “There’s got to be more to it than ‘the rest is history.’”