Hot Target

by April Hunt

  “He hurt her, Logan.” Tears streamed down Rachel’s cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto the ground. “She found out who he was and she tried leaving him…and then he hurt her so that she couldn’t. Who does that to another person?”

  “A really bad one.” Logan reached her and dropped down to his haunches. His hand settled over hers, lowering the gun and expertly sliding it out of her tingling hands. With his other he cupped her cheek and tipped her eyes up to his. “But he’s not going to hurt anyone else ever again. I promise.”

  “And Carly…”

  “Paramedics are with her and already doing their magic.”

  Logan pulled her into his lap at the first soft sob. She clutched the front of his shirt until her fingers ached. By the time the sobs finally dissipated, his shirt was soaked through, and another set of paramedics had arrived for a still-howling Carson.

  “I’m one big, hot mess,” Rachel hiccupped.

  “Yeah, but you’re a damn sexy hot mess,” Logan teased, brushing her hair back. “And you’re my hot mess.”

  Rachel’s throat went dry as she prayed he meant it and feared that he did at the same time. Lowering his head, Logan brushed a ghost of a kiss over her lips. “Baby, we’ve both got a handful of issues to work through, but the nice part in this entire fucked-up situation is that we don’t have to do it alone anymore. We’ll help each other heal. That’s what you do for me, Rachel Kline. You mend things inside me that I didn’t even know were broken.”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I feel the same way. I’m done running away from everything, Logan. Now I’m running toward it…toward you.”

  Logan grinned. “I like the sound of where this is going. Tell me you love me as much as I love you and there’s no getting rid of me.”

  “Good—because I do love you. And I can’t wait to see where this goes.”

  “I already know.” Logan dropped a kiss onto her nose.

  “Care to share it with me?”

  “Eventually.”

  Epilogue

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Fools Rush In Chapel

  Six months later

  Prehistoric butterflies danced an Irish jig in Rachel’s stomach, and had since she’d woken up that morning. Any concern over being back in Sin City for the first time since the ordeal with Carson had quickly vanished as a new flurry of concerns swooped in.

  “No! Stop! Don’t put that in your mouth! Violet Mae, put that down right now!” A shrill, childish giggle immediately followed Elle’s soft scolding.

  Behind Rachel a swatch of pink toddled as fast as her little legs would carry her, white rose petals clenched in her fist. Elle scooped up her daughter, barely managing to pry the flowers from her hand before she tried eating them again.

  “And here I thought breastfeeding was a key component to getting back to prepregnancy weight, when in reality all I needed to do was give birth to Trey’s little spawn,” Elle joked, tickling the one-year-old’s stomach. The room filled with childish squeals, making them all laugh.

  Penny rubbed her swollen belly, looking every bit eight months pregnant. “I’d volunteer to birth an entire horde of little Ortegas if it meant seeing my feet again. Or hell, putting on my shoes without using one of those long-stick shoe horns would be fantastic.”

  Charlie tossed Penny her hand-wrapped bouquet of white and yellow daisies and winked. “You’re already scheduled for an eviction, so stop being so dramatic.”

  “Says the woman who disappears when she turns sideways—and it’s called an induction, not an eviction.”

  “So you’re kicking that little person out with drugs instead of a note on the door. Same diff.” The pink-haired operative slid Rachel a small smirk. “You look absolutely gorgeous, love. Logan’s going to lose his marbles when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

  “Everyone ready? We need to get this show on the road.” A familiar gasp made Rachel smile. “Oh. My. Heavens.”

  Rachel turned toward the older woman she now called friend and twirled. “What do you think, Edith? Is Charlie right? Is Logan going to lose his marbles?”

  She clapped her hands. “He’s going to lose something, honey, that’s for sure. You couldn’t look more beautiful even if I dressed you myself.”

  Charlie mumbled something under her breath about a go-go wedding dress and Penny elbowed her in the side, shutting her up. The operative chuckled and everyone grabbed their bouquets.

  Ever since Logan had proposed, a second into the New Year, Rachel had known exactly where they needed to say their I-dos. Luckily, Earl and Edith had been eagerly up for it. The older couple had gone all out. Elvis still occupied every nook and crevice of the small chapel, but the girls had helped place the flowers. Even the life-size Elvis mannequin held a bouquet of gerbera daisies and wore a black suit jacket instead of his sequined jumper.

  Rachel shot a quick glance around the back room. “Aren’t we missing someone?”

  “Here! I’m here!” Carly sprinted down the hall as if she weren’t wearing heels, skidding to a stop. “Sorry I’m late. I got—”

  “Roughed up by a chicken?” Charlie teased, plucking a pink feather from Carly’s slightly unkempt hair. “You may want to fix the lips, love. And if you have your cell phone on you, I suggest you tell ol’ lover boy Chase he may want to make use of his handkerchief.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carly said innocently before not-so-discreetly firing off a text.

  Edith hustled through the gilded curtain, and while she barked orders, getting everyone into position, Stone stepped through the canopy.

  The Alpha leader looked at a loss for words as he pulled her into a gentle hug. “You’re breathtaking, Rachel. Logan’s a damn lucky man.”

  She squeezed him back. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

  From around Stone’s broad shoulders, the girls lifted their eyebrows. Ever since she’d returned from Vegas months ago, there’d been something different about the usually broody Alpha head, and bets had been laid down from a secret love to divine intervention.

  Stone offered Rachel his uninjured arm. “We should probably move this along. Your guy’s about to crawl out of his skin out there—in a good way.”

  The music began, summoning the procession. Elle stepped through first, gently nudging her daughter in front of her and coaxing her into tossing the flower petals. Carly came next, tears in her eyes as she kissed Rachel on the cheek before following. And then Penny and Charlie, the maid and matron of honor.

  “You’re up next, Charlie.” Rachel dropped her gaze to the new addition to the operative’s jewelry collection, a gorgeous sapphire ring that she now wore on her left hand.

  “But at least I put up a good fight…unlike some of you girls, who fell at the drop of a crooked smirk. It’s embarrassing. I’m the only one with any kind of self-control,” Charlie teased, squeezing her hand before disappearing.

  Rachel held her breath as the music changed, signaling Stone to guide her through the gold curtain. She found Logan instantly. Standing beneath a music-note archway with Earl at the ready, he watched her slowly walk the aisle. As she reached the halfway point, he left his position and eased her out of Stone’s arms with a slow kiss.

  Rachel giggled as their friends whistled and catcalled. Little Violet, not knowing what was happening, clapped enthusiastically.

  “You’re supposed to wait until I get to the altar, and I’m pretty sure we have to recite a few vows before you kiss the bride,” Rachel teased.

  “Darlin’, we waited long enough for this. I’m not waiting a second longer than I have to.” With a mischievous smirk, Logan swept her legs out from beneath her, giving his boss a wink. “Thanks for giving the bride away, man.”

  Stone chuckled. “My pleasure.”

  Logan hustled back to the altar before putting her back on her feet. “Sorry about that, Earl. I’m just anxious to make this beautiful lady mine before she comes to he
r senses and changes her mind.”

  “Not going to happen, cowboy.” Rachel looked up into Logan’s smiling face.

  “Why? Because you know I’ll keep bringing you back?”

  “No, because I’m already yours. This is only a formality.”

  As Logan cupped her cheek, the usually tough Texan peered down at her with glittering gray eyes. “And I’m already yours, darlin’. Forever and always.”

  About the Author

  April Hunt blames her incurable chocolate addiction on growing up in rural Pennsylvania, way too close to America’s chocolate capital, Hershey. She now lives in Virginia with her college sweetheart husband, two young children, and a cat who thinks she’s a human-dog hybrid. On those rare occasions she’s not donning the cape of her children’s personal chauffeur, April’s either planning, plotting, or writing about her next alpha hero and the woman he never knew he needed, but now can’t live without.

  You can learn more at:

  AprilHuntBooks.com

  Twitter @AprilHuntBooks

  Facebook.com

  Also by April Hunt

  Heated Pursuit

  Holding Fire

  Hard Justice

  Penny Kline didn’t come to Honduras on a pleasure trip. But when she walks into the middle of a covert ops mission, she finds herself swept into the hard-muscled arms of Rafe Ortega—and on a thrilling ride of danger and desire…

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from Heated Pursuit.

  CHAPTER ONE

  San Pedro Sula, Honduras

  Penny’s damp underwear stuck to her skin in an uncomfortable bunch, but it wasn’t a man’s skillful pair of callus-roughened hands or his dirty, talented mouth that had caused the problem. The blame lay entirely with the god-awful Honduran humidity.

  It didn’t matter. No degree of sweaty undies or unfortunate chafing would slow her down. Nothing could make her turn back, because her family meant the world to her—and Rachel was the only one she had left.

  A tingle at the base of her neck made Penny skid to a stop. Her gaze snapped left and right, heart trilling as shadows stretched into human-sized figures and melted away with the twinkle of a far-off light. Nothing looked amiss, but two tortuously slow seconds later, the sound of a boot scraping asphalt had her spinning around with fists raised.

  Half-hidden in shadow, the man ducked her sweeping arm and pivoted much too fast for someone his size. In a blink, he reappeared over her shoulder. Months of training and practice brought her heel down onto his large, booted foot and she turned…straight into a hulking black-camo-clad figure.

  Holy ever-lovin’ god of iron giants.

  Behind his ski mask, the man’s piercing blue eyes raked down the length of her body. He towered over her by more than a foot, and given the width of his broad shoulders and massive chest, he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds of solid muscle.

  Penny swallowed the fear rising in her throat and did the first thing that popped into her head—she aimed a swift kick between his legs. And then she ran like hell.

  Each painful inhale rattled in her lungs as she pumped her legs harder. Her hair whipped across her line of sight, temporarily obstructing her view. Seconds ticked by at an agonizing crawl. Fifty yards. Twenty. The closer her rental Jeep came into view, the louder the echoing pound of footsteps behind her became.

  An inch away from the door, strong hands propelled her face-first into the grimy driver’s side window.

  “Let go of me.” She twisted and squirmed, cursing as he yanked her arms sharply behind her back and pinned them into place with his two hundred–pound frame.

  “Ya era tiempo,” her captor said, tossing a deep growl of Spanish to their left.

  About damn time. Years of studying the language had Penny’s heart sinking to her stomach…because she knew he wasn’t talking to her.

  One dark figure after another emerged from the shadows. Dressed head to toe in matching black fatigues and masks, the metallic glint of weapons flickered off the four bodies like a commando’s version of bling. The fact that not a single gun was pointed at her head became a small comfort when a dark van screeched to a halt in front of them.

  “Oh hell.” She took a deep breath and choked on burnt rubber fumes.

  She needed to think, and the hard erection nestled against her ass reminded her there wasn’t room for mistakes. If something happened to her, Rachel would be lost forever in the hands of a monster. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen.

  As if sensing a forming plan, her assailant bent down, his mask brushing against her ear. “Play nice and you won’t get hurt, sweetheart. But if you don’t stop struggling, I can’t make that same promise.”

  Penny fought against the ice-cold tingle his rough whisper zipped down her spine. Her joints screamed in protest, but she edged closer to the only area susceptible to attack. The second fabric brushed against her palm, she curled her fingers and squeezed with everything she had.

  “Fucking hell!” Blue Eyes wrenched her grip free of his balls and tossed her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a rag doll.

  “Damn it! Let me go!” She elbowed the back of his head, and when that didn’t get a reaction, she plowed a fist into his left flank—and the damn man kept walking, not once losing his stride. “Put me down! Entiendes?”

  Behind her, someone bound her kicking legs while another did the same with her wrists. When a gag came next, she snapped her teeth, nearly catching the hand that tied it into place. A sack over the head later and her world plummeted into darkness before they shuffled her into the waiting van.

  Between the musty, stale air and being bracketed between her assailant’s rock-hard thighs, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t see her snug confines. Walls closed in around her, making each breath feel as if it would be the last. She made one last-ditch effort to squirm from her captor’s hold.

  Blue Eyes’ grip locked her into place, her back plastered against his chest.

  “Little viper,” he murmured—in Spanish—into her ear. “It’s a damn good thing I wasn’t thinking about having children anytime soon.”

  “I’m just glad she didn’t grab my balls.” Another voice chuckled. “Unlike you assholes, I’d like to expand my gene pool sometime down the line. But I am curious as to why she’s down here.”

  “Me, too. And I’m sure as hell going to find out.” The familiar voice made Penny’s heartbeat stumble.

  The tone was the same in Spanish as it was in English—abrupt and menacing even from its distance across the van. But why would Trey be in Honduras? And why the hell had he let his friend turn her into a pancake against the side of a Jeep?

  * * *

  If someone had told former Delta and current Alpha Security operative Rafael Ortega that he’d have someone tied up in the unit’s makeshift interrogation room, he’d have sworn it would’ve been the drug kingpin, Fuentes, or one of the cartel leader’s many henchmen.

  Now, three hours after he and his team pulled the hood off the American woman in the privacy of their inner-city headquarters, Rafe still hadn’t entirely ruled out the redhead’s involvement. Something didn’t jibe, and when he couldn’t figure things out, it made him goddamned twitchy.

  A body search he’d been a lucky enough bastard to perform revealed a single steel blade tucked into her boot and a burner cell phone that hadn’t sent or received any calls. No firearms. No identification. That was it, unless you counted breasts that would fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, and an ass that was made to be grabbed—or at the very least, ogled.

  For the third time in as many hours, Rafe shifted himself in his pants and walked into the interrogation room. Instantly, he was bombarded with curses that would’ve had his fourth foster mother running to the nearest church.

  “Ah. You missed me,” he goaded.

  His comment earned him another round of expletives, each one more inventive than the last. He smiled, loving both the challe
nge and the murderous glint in her blazing green eyes.

  Rafe met her glare for glare, not turning when the door opened to emit Trey Hanson, his best friend and former Delta brother. His own black mask still firmly in place, Trey took a position against the far back wall.

  “Are you feeling any more talkative?” asked Rafe.

  “Go. To. Hell.” The redhead tugged on her restraints with each word.

  “I’ve been there. Too dry for my tastes.” Rafe let out a mental sigh. This was turning out to be more work than he’d anticipated. “Why are you in Honduras?”

  She gave him an eat-shit-and-choke-on-it glare and he covered her hands with his, halting both the damage to her chafing wrists and assessing her sudden surge in heart rate. “I’m losing my patience, sweetheart. Let’s try this again. One. More. Time.”

  Her gaze darted left, to where Trey stood like a six-foot wall ornament, flipping his KA-BAR knife in his hand like Rafe had seen him do countless times when bored. Something flashed in the redhead’s eyes, but when her gaze slid back to him, it hardened to green steel.

  The slow, upward curl of her lips alerted him to the smart-mouthed remark about to be unleashed. “Maybe instead of asking me stupid questions you should put some ice on your boo-boo. Untreated swelling could cause permanent damage.”

  He leaned to within an inch of her face. Fuck-and-him. Despite the layers of San Pedro Sula grime caked on her otherwise perfect porcelain skin, a vanilla scent clung to her body. It almost made him forget that her swift kick and good aim were the reason he actually did just get done icing his fucking balls.

  “We have ways of making little girls talk,” he warned. “And trust me, it’s no day at the spa.”

  Her gaze flickered over his shoulder. “I’ve never been a spa kind of woman. Ask your mute friend there in the back. After all, we were practically raised as brother and sister.”