Tequila Sunset: A Military Erotic Romance (Sexy Siesta Series Book 2)

by Talina Perkins

  TEQUILA SUNSET

  BOOK TWO OF SEXY SIESTAS

  TALINA PERKINS

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TEQUILA SUNSET

  SEXY SIESTA NOVELLA

  Copyright© 2014 Talina Saine

  Excerpt from His By Sunrise copyright © 2014 by Talina Saine

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Cover Artist: Bookin' It Designs

  ISBN: 9781311722874

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the permission in writing from Author.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A special thank you to my family and the never-ending support you give me!

  To my editor and friend, Em Petrova, thank you for your dedication in helping me improve my craft and for your awesome work!

  To my friend and fellow author, Dolores Wall Maroney: thank you for going the extra mile and for your priceless insight into the craft!

  Last but not least, to my readers. You have my eternal gratitude for the amazing support you show me and my books. Thank you!

  Xoxo

  Talina

  DEDICATION

  To my mother who gave me the love for the written word.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Excerpt: His By Sunrise

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Lieutenant Gabriel Daniels was going to kill his best friend and end up in a Mexican jail before the night was through.

  He turned the offensive shot glass around several more times, looking for the best angle to drink along with all the other guests in the room. Didn’t seem to matter. Every way he tried, he either got a mouthful of ear or ass.

  Didn’t really surprise him though. Compared to the jokes Lucas pulled on them back on base, this was tame. This just proved there was nothing sacred when it came to a man’s funny bone.

  Giving up, Gabriel pushed the burro-shaped shot glass to the side and turned toward the room full of wedding guests. Taller than most, he scanned the heavily decorated room with no problem. Tables covered with bold reds, golds, and royal blues took over the majority of the space with a glimpse of cream silk here or there.

  Warm air flowed through the makeshift reception hall, the heavy smell of salty sea air a balm to his overworked mind. Coming off a year without leave took a toll on a man no matter how badass the Marine was. Truth be told, he didn’t see much use in time off when there was nothing keeping him tied down. His CO saw it differently. Something about burnout…

  So here he was, eight hundred miles south of the border, drinking tequila out of an ass, or trying to anyway. There was some irony there, but it would take looking deeper than he liked to find it.

  Warm wooden floors eased up to wide-open partitions with whole sections removed to allow a better view of the Pacific and its long sandy beaches. From what he gathered, the place served the residents of Cabos as a quaint beachside restaurant. A few hours and a little feminine touch from one particular Vega family member had transformed the old town’s local dive into a festive place fit for a good Mexican shindig notorious for lasting long past any sensible hour and bordering insane.

  Multicolored decorations hung from the palapa-style ceiling and swayed in the lazy breeze. Her touch lingered in every lovingly-placed detail. From the red roses offset by the white roses to the silk ribbons and candles. The woman had a flare for colors and textures that amazed him. And that’s who he looked for now, Esmeralda Vega.

  He scanned the room again but couldn’t pinpoint a firm location on her now that the official ceremony was over. Everyone had been in a hurry to usher out the newly married couple and move on to the festivities of the evening. He included. Tropical weather and tuxedoes didn’t mesh in his world, any world if you asked him, and the faster he ditched the suffocating monkey suit and into his civies the better.

  Still no sign…

  He’d first caught a glimpse of her in passing as he handed over his keys to the valet back at the church. The sexy little temptress casually waltzed right past him with only an air kiss and a wink as a hello. Given how they last said hello, with a bottle of her favorite tequila in her hotel room after her cousin’s birthday party over six months ago, he’d expected a little more. And she knew it.

  It was a testament to his years in the service that kept him focused during the ceremony as she stood across from him as maid of honor and he the best man, her attention zeroed in on him. Or parts of him. Her gaze darted between his cock and mouth so many times there was no way his dick missed the memo. Thank God his jacket covered him, or the rocking grandma to his left cranking out the tunes on the piano would have had an eyeful.

  To top off the fuck-tacular job he was doing as best man, toward the end, he fumbled taking the ring out of his too-damn-small jacket pocket—give him his dress blues any day.

  With a hard tug of his hand he’d quickly produced the ring, but he didn’t miss Esmeralda’s faint giggle. Or the death stare from the groom.

  He cringed just thinking about it. The guys would rip him hard for being such a damn klutz, but that flirtatious laugh of hers eased inside him and touched a part of his heart he thought closed off for good due to his grade-A asshole of a father who thought taking lit cigarettes to a child was good sport. The bastard wouldn’t stop until he’d made Gabriel cry, and sometimes that didn’t even stop him.

  Gabriel ran a hand down one arm then the other out of habit. The red, puckered marks were almost faded, but nothing could erase the mental scars.

  That ugly world had no place here. He raked a hand through his hair, pushed back from the table he shared with five other guests, and stood, watching as the band ushered in the start of an all-nighter filled with heavy drinking and dancing.

  Low chords made to reach into a man’s soul strummed into the night. The heavy beat of the ocean waves added to the sensual vibe of the first song. A tango. Wasn’t his strong suit, but he could hold his own thanks to a very dedicated dance instructor—a.k.a. his mother.

  Gabriel turned to the side opposite the band, catching the hint of a melodious voice on the warm air currents. It reminded him of silk sheets and passion. Delicate, rich, and exotic. Her words marked with a Latin inflection that cranked up the sultriness no matter what she said.

  His gaze flitted over the crowd, this time honing in on the real music to his ears.

  There. To his three o’clock.

  He watched, mesmerized by the lovely Latina dressed in a knee-length skirt. With every move, the sequins decorating the front of her strappy top captured the sun. Waves of warm light danced around her like magic
. Over the last year they’d been seeing one another, she’d definitely cast a spell over him.

  A rush of heat hit his system and his balls drew up tight, remembering the treasures hidden beneath all those hand-stitched sequins.

  During the ceremony wild fantasies played out in his mind like a nonstop train with how her full-length royal blue gown for the wedding damn near made love to her figure.

  But the number she’d chosen for the after party outlined every feminine curve of her heavy breasts and teased him with a view of her shapely, tanned legs. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He straightened his pants a little to the right. Esmeralda provoked the same reaction from him each time they were together. And this time was no different. Her soft lips turned up in a radiant smile that lit her beautiful chocolate-colored eyes with a tenderness that never ceased to amaze him. She was a picture of sensual elegance compared to his brute self, for damn sure.

  Anticipating Esmeralda’s path, he pushed through the growing crowd, his target the bar in the corner, conveniently situated next to an exit he intended to use. Nice.

  “Hey there.” Gabriel leaned on his elbow and flashed a grin at the barista. No matter where in the world the job took him or his unit, the grin worked in any language. “You gotta have something better than this glass to drink out of, right?” He passed over the little burro double shooter and dialed up the Don Juan for the faux red-haired lady behind the bar.

  “Hmmm…es possible, señor,” she said with a tease and a flutter of lashes. At another point in time he’d be working his mojo on her, ready for a love ‘em and leave ‘em all-nighter. Lately though, his mind kept wandering back to one specific, foxy señorita. Talk about a major cock block. Six months since his last sweet taste, and all he could think about was one more night with her.

  “Gracias. Anything you have will do, and if you could make it two?” Gabe glanced to his right, quickly locating his target. He followed her slow progress his direction. Or he tried. Would’ve been easier if some slick with a fine taste for custom-made suits well above his pay grade hadn’t blocked his view.

  He pushed himself up from the bar and eased around for a better look. Hands Gabriel bet were as greasy as the stranger’s slicked-back hair stroked the outer part of Esmeralda’s arm, slowly making a move farther south.

  The stranger worked first his hand then his arm around her waist, guiding her onto the dance floor, pulling her close.

  Gabriel cocked his head. Son-of-a-bitch. Anger clawed at his insides as recognition dawned. If his talent for facial recognition held any salt, the man currently pawing Ema was a wanted man.

  He turned for a better angle.

  Gabriel knew that face and the name that went with it. He’d memorized every fucking line of it when he, Lucas, and the rest of their team had been called in to help the LAPD take down a drug lord running powder north of the border and into Gabriel’s country a little less than a year ago.

  Their CO had labeled the mission textbook. Get in, add a little muscle to support the local LAPD, and get out. That was before Bougainvillea took a young woman as leverage.

  Pain stabbed at his insides. His fingers clenched and unclenched several times. Sweat trickled down his spine.

  After suiting up, they’d pinpointed the dirt-bag’s location in less than an hour, cornering him in with his goons in an apartment complex. Between his captain and himself, they’d dropped five tangos, both men taking a bullet in the process.

  He’d been the first one through the door, followed by three unit members. Blood covered the back wall opposite the door from the young woman’s body that lay on the floor lifeless. Bullet holes riddled her torso from where Bougainvillea had used her as a human shield.

  They’d fanned out, searching for Bougainvillea, but what they turned up was a whole different nightmare. Three other women with their bodies split open from breastbones to pelvises. Traces of powder provided proof of what Bougainvillea had used them for. Mules for his product. Once they served their purpose, he moved on.

  They hadn’t. Gabriel’s stomach pitched at the vileness.

  His heart pounded. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Chill the fuck out, man. Ema can handle herself. And if she can’t, I’m ready, willing, and able.

  But she didn’t seem to mind the hand or the guy now leading her off to the middle of the dance floor. Then again, she didn’t know the devil she danced with.

  Red picked that moment to slide a slender glass double shooter across the bar filled with Mexican gold liquid. He caught the shot and tossed back its content. He didn’t know if the woman could read minds or if his face had murder written on it, but her timing was impeccable.

  “His name is Carlos Bougainvillea.” She confirmed what he already knew.

  Gabe nodded his reply. While they’d taken down the puppets, their master had slipped past them and it fucking boiled his blood.

  “If he is dancing with that woman,” Red gestured toward Ema. “…errr, that, mì amigo,…it’s a problema.”

  No screaming eagle shit.

  No amount of broken English could hide the worry in her tone.

  “I’m woman and I see, señor. And Bougainvillea, too,” Red added with a small lift to her shoulder. “Con cuidado, señor. Be careful, he’s a jealous man. Powerful. And your amiga is beautiful.”

  A dangerous combination that didn’t lead to anywhere good. No way he’d let Bougainvillea anywhere near his Ema.

  Red’s words sent chills down his spine. He was well-acquainted with danger, but never with a loved one in the middle. On leave and in Mexico, there wasn’t really a damn thing he could do about it, and that fucking burned him alive. Red poured another double before walking off to tend the other guests.

  Well suck me sideways.

  He jacked back the liquid and welcomed the burn that came with it. Electricity flooded his chest and seeped down into his veins. Time to see what his woman had stepped into and ruffle some local feathers in the process.

  The tango eased into a hot salsa number made for seduction. He had to get to her. Just the thought of that fucker touching Ema the way Gabriel’s dirty mind pictured touching her to this beat brought murder to mind. He pushed through the crowed, earning a few muttered curses as the rhythm picked up. Fuck ‘em.

  “Pardon me.” He blocked Bougainvillea’s next step, preventing him from taking their dance farther into the center of the floor. “I believe the lady promised this dance to me. Right, Ema?” He turned to the sable-haired woman currently staring up at him, her face flushed a pretty pink. The soft brown eyes he remembered were replaced with wild fire ready to burn, something he’d never seen in her before. And it made his cock stand at attention. He was so damn tempted to lower his head and taste her ruby lips just to see if the rest of her burned as hot as the fire in her eyes. Getting burned by her would be worth the pain.

  He fisted his hands by his sides to keep them in check.

  A low cough brought him out of his thoughts of dance-floor foreplay and back to the matter at hand.

  Growing up, he never had much to call his own. Not with a father who wasted every dime on cigarettes and booze. But he’d learned something from the broken man despite the old man’s best efforts to trash his life.

  He’d learned how to fight for what he wanted. It was what took him from boot camp to recon, and he had no plans on backing off the fight now. He and Ema never talked about anything close to a family but if it ever happened—God how he hoped it did—they would fight for something better.

  At first, it just irritated him that he’d missed the first dance with Ema. Then he had seen Bougainvillea. Red’s warning reiterated Gabriel’s beliefs, he would stop at nothing to put as much distance as possible between Ema and the woman-slaughtering drug lord.

  His instincts had kept him out of a few scrapes in the past, and they were screaming at him now. How had Lucas failed to mention a wanted criminal had made it to the VIP list? Gabriel would chat wi
th him later.

  “Those are some smooth moves you’ve got there, hermano.” Bougainvillea flashed a grin meant to send a man’s heart into his ass with fear. Lucky for Gabriel he knew a thing or two about intimidation. He also knew how to break bones and if the man didn’t remove his hand from Ema’s arm pronto, Gabriel wouldn’t be responsible for the ass-kicking to follow.

  He offered her his hand. “May I, sweetheart?” She looked at him a moment, the fire simmering in her eyes, but slowly placed her hand in his. The tension in his body uncoiled a fraction. He pressed his luck and snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  Bougainvillea’s eyes darkened, darting to Gabriel’s arm where his unit’s tattoo peeked out from the short sleeve of his cotton shirt.

  “You Marine boys always move in packs? Where I see one there’s two or three…como perros. Like fucking dogs.” His voice, thick with his Mexican accent, made deeper by anger.

  Gabriel leveled his stare at the man. Their heights leveled out to the same, but Gabriel’s build across the shoulders and arms dwarfed Bougainvillea’s thinner frame.

  Gabriel knew better than to mistake a small man for a small enemy though.

  “That’s devil dog to you, asshole.” His voice just as smug as Bougainvillea’s.

  Ema obviously wasn’t as thick-skinned as he was. Her body tensed beneath his touch and her nails dug into the skin of his arm. “Señor Bougainvillea, you’re talking about my family and my friends.” Her tone harsh and just as sharp as her nails.

  Cold, calculating eyes turned to Ema, disgust twisting Bougainvillea’s features. He tilted his head to the side as if assessing her worth, and it took all Gabriel had not to plant his fist in the other man’s face. Bougainvillea’s eyes darted between them before landing on his. “I didn’t realize the dog had his bitch.” Bougainvillea shifted his weight and focused squarely on Ema “Running with this Marine marks you as a traitor to México and your mama, Señorita Vega.” Bougainvillea snarled, his words barely audible above the music.