The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance

by Trisha Telep

  The ability to go from a dead sleep to ready for action was a trait soldiers and medical professionals shared, apparently. “At ease, soldier,” she said, sitting up and stretching. She didn’t miss the way his eyes went to her chest and paused for a lingering moment before continuing up to meet hers. “Sorry. I woke up and suddenly remembered last night.”

  His face underwent some subtle transformation from alert to impassive. As if not sure how welcome her memories were. GI Joe needed reassurance from Barbie? The world was full of wonders.

  “I don’t have any regrets,” Miranda stated. “OK, I might regret that I threw myself at you, but I figured you were too honourable to make a move.”

  She reached for her clothes but didn’t hurry. If he wanted to look, he was entitled to look. After what he’d done for her, he could take pictures if he wanted. Something to remember her by. The whimsical thought caused an unexpected pang and Miranda realized she wanted him to remember her. Wanted to be more than another grateful female who’d fallen on her back for him. Although, technically, he’d been the one on his back.

  Thinking like that was not going to help either of them, so she stifled the emotion, stuffing it away in the compartment reserved for disruptive feelings that threatened her ability to think clearly. Men like Gabriel had missions. They did not have relationships.

  She had a head start, but he dressed faster. He had everything stowed neatly back in his Bat belt before she finished slipping on her shoes.

  He handed her another snack bar.

  “Breakfast of champion escapees,” Miranda murmured. “Thanks. What’s the plan now?”

  “Hide. Run away. Get to the water and get on a boat.”

  “Simple. I like it.” They weren’t too far from the Pacific; it’d be a straight shot up the coast past Mexico to the US. She preferred to gloss over complications, like men with guns who’d try to stop them, and her lack of a passport. “Will there be a boat waiting?”

  He nodded. “We’ll get picked up. We just need to get there.”

  “It’s funny,” she said after managing to chew a bite thoroughly enough to swallow. “There’s been a little over ten years of peace here, after decades of civil war. I never thought too much about how fragile peace can be, how much work might go into keeping it. You’d think everybody would’ve had enough of the fighting. It hasn’t been long enough for people to have forgotten.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Some hope to profit from it. Some want revenge. Some just want to bring down what others build up.”

  “I can’t imagine being willing to take all those lives.” She stared at her feet, brooding over the close call. A band of lunatics had been not just willing but eager to start a plague, not caring how many innocent people would die.

  Gabriel didn’t answer. Miranda went back to eating in silence.

  Three

  Gabe waited out the day with Miranda’s proximity a constant distraction. She was close enough to touch in their confined space and it took all his control to keep his hands to himself. He had no business touching her. Bad enough that he couldn’t stop wanting to. Better to focus on the job. All he had to do was get her on a boat without either of them getting caught and then it’d be over. She’d go back to her life. He’d go on with his. And then he could stop hoping for a repeat of last night, minus blowing up a building together as foreplay.

  Minutes and hours stretched out interminably. When he judged it safe, he got them on the move. The need for caution made progress slow. Every sound had him hyper-alert, but no ambush came. Miranda moved more quietly than he expected and followed his lead without question. She went still when he motioned her to stop, hid when he indicated she should take cover, and stayed with him, mile after mile, without a sound of complaint.

  They made their way to the coast without encountering anybody, and emerged from a mangrove swamp to a black volcanic sand beach just after the sun set. The moon was a crescent sliver in the sky, surrounded by pinpoints of stars. It wasn’t as dark as he’d like, but it could’ve been worse.

  “Take your shoes off after we wade out into the water,” he said in a low voice.

  Miranda nodded, her bright head too easily visible even with minimal moonlight. “We’re going for a swim?”

  “A short one. You can swim, right?” If she couldn’t, he could tow her but that would slow them down.

  “I’m not an expert, but yes.”

  “Good.”

  They were waist deep in the Pacific with footwear discarded when there was a sharp burst of gunfire behind them. Gabe felt the side of his arm burn as he grabbed Miranda and dived underwater. They swam for the boat’s location with an adrenaline-fuelled burst of speed. He made sure she was pulled over the side first. Then he followed, and the engine roared to life as the boat headed for the open sea.

  “Your arm,” Miranda said, staring at it. “You got hit.” She came towards him and pushed the sleeve up, exposing his bicep. Her fingers explored the wound, gentle but firm. “No bullet embedded. It looks like it grazed you.”

  “Just a flesh wound,” Gabriel said.

  She fussed until somebody handed her a first aid kit, then she applied antiseptic that stung even more than salt water had, and wrapped the wound in a bandage. “It’s probably going to leave a scar.”

  “I can live with that.” It would be a constant reminder of how he’d gotten it, which would make forgetting her a lot more difficult. But he’d rather be the one wearing the memento of their adventure while she went home unscarred and unscathed.

  “Looks like you both got lucky,” said Dale, the one who’d armed Miranda with medical supplies. “Glad to see you safe, Dr Gray. Nobody knew you were in that compound. If Gabe hadn’t spotted you before giving the go signal for the air strike, the building might’ve gone up with you inside.”

  Miranda stared at Gabe for an endless second and he knew she was remembering the first words he’d said to her. How he told her he’d been sent to rescue her. “Lucky,” she echoed. Then she turned away.

  He told himself he was glad. Better for her to remember him as a liar.

  The next few weeks were a blur. Miranda told her story, gave as many details about the group who’d taken her captive as she could, and wished she could roll back time to the day before her view of the world changed. Since she couldn’t go back, she wanted desperately to go forwards. She returned home. Once she was clear to return to work, she threw herself into it. The Chicago virology clinic that employed her wasn’t the same as being in the field, but working stateside was still better than having too much time on her hands.

  The long hours and the fast pace suited her, but she needed to work harder on getting over the man who’d probably already forgotten she existed. And she really had to stop turning every time she heard a male voice with a certain timbre, stop taking a second look whenever she saw a man whose height and breadth looked familiar.

  Even at home in her solitary apartment, memories invaded in the form of dreams. “I’m not obsessed,” Miranda informed her reflection in the mirror after she’d ducked into the bathroom and splashed herself with cold water. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

  She’d thought she’d have a chance to thank Gabriel for completing his rescue, however unplanned it had turned out to be (the idea gave her chills even now), but they were never alone after they got on the boat. She could almost believe he’d been avoiding her. Maybe he’d thought she’d throw herself at him again and wanted to spare them both the embarrassment.

  Maybe she would have. Maybe she owed him another thanks for preventing that. Still, the sense of something unfinished gnawed at her.

  Miranda made her way to her office, where she had a consultation scheduled that marked her last appointment for the day. When she opened the door and saw a military-style crew cut in a shade of dark walnut above broad shoulders and a muscular back, she bit back a groan. She was seeing him in her patients now.

  Then the man turned around, and grey eyes pierced h
er. She had to lean back against the door to keep herself upright.

  “Gabriel.” His name slipped out in a tone that gave entirely too much away. She straightened with an effort and made her way to her desk. Hiding behind it might give her a chance to compose herself.

  “Miranda.” He nodded at her and took his seat across from her.

  “You wanted to see me? Professionally?” Oh, God, he hadn’t been exposed to something exotic and horrible, had he? But no, he looked healthy. Strong. Virile. Miranda got a hold of herself with an effort and stopped there.

  “I wanted to see you. Personally.”

  “Oh.” Good. Because she didn’t sleep with her patients. Although technically she’d already made an exception with him. Then again, she hadn’t patched him up until after she’d slept with him. “You could’ve called. I left my number for you.” And she’d felt like a moony teenager doing it. Hoping the boy would call, knowing he probably wouldn’t.

  “I thought you might feel more comfortable seeing me on neutral ground than having me call you at home,” Gabriel said. “In case hearing from me triggered any unpleasant associations.”

  “Unpleasant . . . Oh, you’re wondering if I’ve developed posttraumatic stress problems? Strangely, no. It turns out assaulting one of your captors and setting the building on fire in which you were held captive is highly therapeutic.”

  “So it doesn’t disturb you to see me.” He shifted and reached up to rub his arm as if it twinged.

  Her eyes followed the movement, and the memory of his torn and bleeding flesh rushed back. “Does it still hurt?”

  “No, it’s healed fine.”

  “Oh. Good.” Could she sound any more idiotic? “Gabriel, I’m glad you’re here. I never got a chance to thank you.”

  He gave her an unreadable look. “For what?”

  “Getting me out. Getting shot doing it.”

  “I lied to you, and I had sex with you when you were vulnerable.”

  Miranda couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth at the memory. “You didn’t exactly take advantage of me. You were just too gentlemanly to fight me off. And you didn’t exactly lie, you just didn’t tell me the whole truth.”

  One brow skated up. “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why should it? Look, when you came to get me out of the lab, you didn’t know me. You didn’t know what I was doing. You needed to get my trust and cooperation. What were you supposed to do, say, ‘By the way, you’re standing on my target. Would you get out so I can call in the air strike I have scheduled’?”

  His lips twitched. “I wouldn’t have dared. You were armed and dangerous. Not a woman to mess with.”

  Miranda spread her hands. “You had to make a judgment call. I do the same thing in my profession. You said the right thing. You did the right thing. You’re a hero, so don’t you dare sit there and tell me you came to apologize for anything.”

  “I didn’t come to apologize.” Gabriel squared his shoulders and leaned forwards slightly. “I came to see if I could take you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” She stared at him.

  “Steak that covers the plate. Baked potato with everything on it. All the cheesecake you can eat.”

  So he remembered. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. I made reservations.”

  Miranda didn’t try to stop the grin from widening. “That sure of yourself?”

  “No, but I figured if you turned me down I’d still need to eat. And if you said yes, I wanted to have a table someplace decent.”

  “Chicago has many decent restaurants.” She dimpled at him, feeling as fizzy and sparkly inside as if she’d been handed a glass of champagne.

  “And afterwards, maybe we could talk.”

  “What about?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “First I have to ply you with food. I owe you a real dinner.”

  He watched her eat with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. Miranda savoured every bite, and did her best to demolish a sliver of cheesecake when they finished, but it defeated her. The conversation was light and casual through the meal, but afterwards, when he settled his hand on her lower back to guide her through the restaurant and back outside, she felt a sense of something building.

  They walked along the Lake Michigan shoreline. “Glad we don’t have to outswim any bullets tonight,” Miranda said. “I’m too full. I’d sink.”

  “I’d save you.”

  “You’re too full, too.”

  “I’d find a way.”

  “You’d have something in your Bat belt, I’m sure,” Miranda agreed, but despite their light words, the atmosphere between them thickened. The suspense unnerved her, so she decided to be blunt. “You’ve wined me and dined me and fed me cheesecake so divine I heard a choir of angels singing when I took the first bite. Is this the point where you tell me what you wanted to talk about?”

  She could almost feel his focus aimed at her. “This is the point where I mention that I’m on leave and I’d like to spend some time with you.”

  “Oh.” That was more than she’d hoped for. “I thought maybe you only had time for dinner.”

  “Sometimes it might be just enough time for that,” Gabriel said in a voice that sounded carefully neutral. “Sometimes not even that; plans can get cancelled without notice.”

  “I get emergency calls, too, you know,” Miranda said, trying not to put too much importance on his inference to future events. “Believe me, I understand how quickly plans can change.”

  “I tried not to call you,” Gabriel said abruptly. “I tried to stay away. I told myself it was better that way.”

  “Better than what? One or both of us breaking a date sometime in the future?”

  “Better than complicating our lives.”

  “Complications aren’t always bad,” Miranda pointed out. “I could date somebody simple, but it wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’d be thinking about you.” There. She’d said it. She waited to see what he’d do.

  He slid his arms around her and drew her closer, until their bodies touched. He bent his head towards hers. “We live very different lives.”

  “Not so different, really,” she said thoughtfully. “We’re both committed to something we believe in. In our own ways, we’re both trying to make the world a better place. Our jobs can be dangerous. They’re always demanding. Sometimes our best isn’t good enough, and all we can do is keep showing up to try again. Listen, are you trying to talk me into dating you, or out of it?”

  “I want you to know who you’re getting involved with.” His lips brushed her temple as he spoke.

  Miranda pressed closer and slid her palms up his chest. “I ran from gun-toting goons through a swamp with you. I think we’ve got that covered.”

  Gabriel let out a short laugh and tightened his arms around her. “Most relationships don’t start with a trial by fire.”

  “Think of it as a shortcut. We got to see each other under extreme circumstances. I could have had a hundred dates with you and not learned as much.”

  “I learned a lot about you,” he said. “You’re gutsy and determined and focused. You keep your head and your sense of humour.”

  “I know you’re trustworthy, loyal and brave,” Miranda said. “You have great taste in restaurants and you remembered everything I said I wanted.”

  “I was paying very close attention,” Gabriel said. “I wanted to be the one who got to feed you the dinner of your fantasies. If you have any other fantasies you’d like fulfilled, I’m your man.”

  Her man. The sound of that gave her a ridiculous, giddy thrill. “I have this fantasy,” she admitted to his shirt. “We walk hand in hand along the shore. And then we go home and make love all night long. In the morning, we look at each other over breakfast and just know we want to see each other across the table twenty years from now.”

  “I knew that when I watched you try to eat an MRE across from me on
the morning after.”

  “Well, that might be where my fantasy came from,” Miranda said. “I didn’t think you could be mine, but I wanted you.”

  “Same here.” He feathered a kiss along the side of her cheek. Then he stepped back and took her hand in his, fingers twined together and gave her an intent look that stopped her breath. “Hand in hand along the shore. Let’s get started.”

  Knowing all the rest that waited for them, Miranda fell into step beside him.

  The Angels of Punishment

  A Special Forces of Heaven story

  Michele Albert

  “Well, now, if it isn’t my favourite celestial GI Joe. I wonder what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  A tall, black-clad figure, standing with his back to her, let out a most un-celestial snort. “Hello, Prima.”

  “Ahadiel.”

  “I’ve been tricked into a binding spell. Somehow, I doubt you’re all that surprised to find me here.”

  Prima emerged from the protective shadows of her hiding place, next to a truck that was parked behind the local Walmart, and walked towards him. Snow crunched beneath her boot heels, sounding unnaturally loud, and she glanced up at the dense blackness of the night sky. Nothing to see: only fat snowflakes swirling in the jaundiced glow of parking-lot lights.

  “I’m no angel, in any sense of the word.” She stopped well outside the spell boundary. “As it so happens, I’m a bit pressed for time and you’re not exactly easy to reach.”

  “But a binding spell, Prima? Really?”

  She gave a shrug. “Really.”

  It couldn’t hold him indefinitely, of course, but she only needed to immobilize him long enough to hear her out – and long enough for any lingering divine wrath to cool down to non-apocalyptic levels.

  “Pathetic, such tricks. I expected better of you.”

  Ahadiel turned, and Prima braced herself against even his fading, brittle brilliance. The Children of Heaven were creatures of light, and their bone-white skin – so unlike humankind’s varying tones of earth and clay – was all the more striking when combined with black hair and sky-blue eyes flecked with the colours of the sun.