Rescuing Emily (Delta Force Heroes Book 2)

by Susan Stoker

  Rescuing Emily

  Book 2, Delta Force Heroes Series

  Susan Stoker

  Stoker Aces Production

  Contents

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Susan Stoker

  About the Author

  Cormac “Fletch” Fletcher was a man who lived on the edge. He worked hard, but enjoyed sitting at home relaxing with his friends too. Taking in a tenant for the apartment over his garage was always in his plans, but he had no idea that renting the space to Emily Grant and her adorable daughter would change his life.

  Being a single mother wasn’t all fun and games, and being able to rent the space above Fletch’s garage made Emily’s life a lot easier…until it wasn’t. Being blackmailed wasn’t something she ever thought would happen to her. It meant giving up eating, so her little girl wouldn’t have to go to bed hungry.

  But Fletch wasn’t the kind of man to stand aside when a woman, especially once he’d grown especially fond of, was in trouble. A man, or Delta Force team, doesn’t take it lightly when a woman is threatened.

  **Rescuing Emily is the 2nd book in the Delta Force Heroes Series. It can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s recommended you read the books in order to get maximum enjoyment out of the series.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Susan Stoker

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design by Chris Mackey, AURA Design Group

  Cover Photographer: Darren Birks

  Cover Model: Chris Connolly

  Edited by Kelli Collins & Missy Borucki

  Manufactured in the United States

  To the real Mrs. Ogliaruso, you were the best second grade teacher Gilbert Linkous Elementary School in Blacksburg, VA ever had. You had a huge impact on my life, and I will always be thankful for that.

  For Shannel. The best day in Oliver’s life was when you signed up to be his foster mom. From foster to adoption, you’re my hero.

  Danee- Thank you for telling me the story about your bedtime ritual of reading. It was perfect for this story!

  Prologue

  Slamming his apartment door behind him and shaking the entire wall while swearing loud and long, he threw his hat across the room, not satisfied at all when it fluttered to the ground a few feet away. He paced, knowing he’d never forget the humiliation he’d felt while standing in front of the colonel, seeing the disgust in the officer’s eyes.

  His squad had been so excited to be picked to go through the special training, sure they’d be able to get through the makeshift city undetected. They were infantry soldiers; they’d trained for hours—no, years—in order to be stealthy in urban situations. The thirty days they’d spent at the National Training Center out at Fort Irwin in California had taught them everything they needed to know.

  But somehow their entire plan had fallen apart within five minutes of the whistle being blown. Instead of being able to sneak through the city and get to the rendezvous point unscathed, every single one of his squad had been “killed,” hit with lasers from specially designed nonlethal weapons, before they’d made it even halfway through the training scenario.

  Remembering how nonchalant the other unit had been after “killing” them all had felt like salt poured into an open wound. They’d acted as if they hadn’t just ruined his career, his reputation. Sure, the colonel had said it was just an exercise. Had said that his squad had done well. But he’d been lying.

  They hadn’t done well.

  And it sure as hell wasn’t just an exercise.

  He’d seen the colonel laughing with another officer about how fast they’d been killed. And the team that had beat them acted as if what had happened wasn’t a big deal. They’d patted each other on the back and given each other high-fives. To add insult to injury, their team didn’t even have one casualty. Not one! They’d taken out his entire squad as if it was child’s play.

  He went into the small bathroom in his apartment and stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment.

  His entire life, he hadn’t been good enough.

  Because you’re pathetic.

  He shook his head at the voice in his head. He wasn’t. It was them. They were pathetic. And it was up to him to show the colonel that he was just as good as the other team.

  Nodding as if he’d made a momentous decision, he started planning in his head. He and his friends had a lot of work to do, but by the time they were done, the other unit would regret their casual dismissal of his squad on the simulated battlefield, and he’d redeem himself with the general in charge of the post.

  Knowing your enemy was the first rule in battle, and he vowed to himself then and there that he’d find a weakness in the other group of soldiers and exploit it to his advantage.

  The asshole soldiers wouldn’t know what hit them. By the time he was done with them, they’d regret their cocky attitude and their brush-off of his squad. He might have been beaten today, but the battle wasn’t over.

  He would take them down. No matter who he had to use to do it.

  Chapter 1

  Cormac “Fletch” Fletcher looked at the monitor sitting on the kitchen counter at the woman standing at his front door. His security cameras caught every inch of his property, starting from just outside the garage to around the back of the yard. He could tell who was driving up his driveway and who was at his door without leaving his house. Hell, he could even log into the app and check the tapes when he was thousands of miles away on a mission. All he needed was a Wi-Fi connection.

  The woman at his door was probably five-nine, taller than the women he was typically attracted to. It was hard to guess her age because she looked tired. He figured probably late twenties or early thirties. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Fletch couldn’t tell what color her eyes were as she kept them downcast, never looking up at the door to be captured by the camera hidden in the ornate door knocker.

  He’d received several messages about the rental apartment over his garage, and Fletch had a few interviews lined up with people who had inquired. The apartment really wasn’t anything special. It had a single bathroom with a shower/bath combo, one bedroom, and a small kitchen.
There were a couple pieces of furniture: a double bed, a refrigerator, and an old couch and coffee table. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clean, and safer than anyone probably knew, considering who he was and what he did for a living.

  He didn’t have a lot of enemies, but there were always people who were jealous of him being in Delta Force. It wasn’t widely known, in fact, not many people knew at all, but there was some suspicion that he and his team were more than simple soldiers. They were damn good at what they did and didn’t seem to have any trouble attracting the ladies. The combination had spelled trouble for some of the other Deltas in the past, even without anyone knowing about their Special Forces background. Renting the apartment would mean there’d be someone on his property to keep an eye on it when he was away on a mission.

  Fletch wiped his hands dry after rinsing the last dish in his sink, and turned off the security monitor. Not advertising the fact that he had such intensive security was key in catching anyone dumb enough to try to rob or vandalize his property. He walked to the door and opened it wide. The woman standing there looked up with a gasp and took a step backwards after seeing him.

  Fletch knew he could be scary. He was six feet two inches tall, and muscular. He’d spent much of his life making sure he was in shape and that no one would mistake him for anything other than what he was…dangerous.

  He had tattoos on his forearms and biceps. They were bright and somewhat gaudy. He looked like a stereotypical sailor. Some of the tattoos he’d gotten when he was young and dumb. He probably wouldn’t choose them if he had to make the decision again, but what was done was done. Fletch knew when people who didn’t know him caught a glimpse of him, they were weary. He was big and knew how to use that to his advantage to intimidate people. But the woman on his doorstep wasn’t someone he wanted to scare away. He pasted a smile on his face as he greeted her.

  “Hi, you’re Emily Grant? Here about renting the apartment?” Fletch asked, trying to put the woman at ease.

  Emily looked up at the man standing in the doorway. If she hadn’t been so desperate, she probably would’ve turned around and gotten right back into her 1998 Honda Civic and driven away. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected out of the man who’d invited her to come check out the apartment, but it wasn’t someone who, while only a few inches taller, could easily bench press her.

  His tattoos were also a surprise. She’d seen lots of tattoos on the soldiers on the base, but they were usually more subdued. Black tribal designs or something similar. Instead, the very masculine man had what looked like cartoon characters on his forearms. He was wearing a plaid shirt, open at the throat—enough for her to realize he didn’t have a carpet of fur on his chest—and with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. She didn’t get an in-depth look at the tattoos, knowing it would be rude to stare, but they still surprised her. Somehow, though, they worked for him.

  Putting aside thoughts of his tattoos—and whether he had any others hidden—Emily brought her gaze up to the man’s. She needed this apartment. It was one of the only places she could find that was close enough to work and school, and was within her small budget.

  She took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m Emily. I appreciate you meeting with me today.” She bravely held out her hand in greeting.

  Fletch smiled at the woman. He could see right through her bravado and knew she was scared to death of him. But he gave her points for not backing farther away and for reaching out to shake his hand.

  He took her hand in his, careful not to squeeze it too hard. “Nice to meet you. Come on in, we can talk about the particulars, then I’ll show you the apartment.”

  Emily nodded and gripped her purse hanging off her shoulder tightly as she followed him into his house. Fletch saw her looking around as if trying to figure out more about him. He knew what image the house projected: not one of a bachelor. It was neat as a pin, with not one item out of place…exactly how he liked it.

  They walked into a small dining room off of a kitchen that could’ve been featured in any cooking magazine. Fletch pulled a chair out from the dark mahogany table and helped her scoot in once she’d sat.

  “Would you like something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Emily told him, knowing she’d be stupid to take something to drink from a man she didn’t know. It would be easy to drug a glass of tea or water. Especially when she was inside his house. He could render her unconscious before she realized what was happening. She normally wasn’t a paranoid person, but lately, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d been watching too many forensics and crime shows.

  Fletch could practically see the woman’s brain churning. She sat uncomfortably in the chair at his table. Her purse was in her lap and she was holding it as if she thought he’d reach over and snatch it from her. He wasn’t offended, far from it, he was impressed she was being as cautious as she was. He made sure to sit across from her, keeping the table between them to give her space.

  “Do I know you?” Fletch thought the woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

  She shrugged. “I work at the PX. You might have seen me there.”

  Fletch nodded. Now that she mentioned it, he thought he did remember seeing her there a time or two. “That must be it. My name is Cormac Fletcher, but everyone calls me Fletch. I own the house and live here by myself. I work on base and am called away on trips somewhat frequently. I’m discreet, and won’t get in your business, and I expect anyone who rents from me to do the same. I’m past the point in my life where I need or want late-night parties. I like to live quietly and I’d like for anyone who resides on my property to be similar.” He paused, gauging her reaction to his words. Emily sat still, giving him her complete attention.

  When she didn’t immediately protest or even show any emotion other than curiosity, he continued, relieved. “The apartment isn’t fancy, I’ve had two people look at it recently and wrinkle their noses and decide it wasn’t for them. Rent includes all utilities. It’s too much of a pain in the ass for me to separate out how much electricity you use versus what I use. All I ask is that you don’t get a wild hair to grow marijuana or something that would make the bills spike every month.”

  “No marijuana, check,” Emily mumbled under her breath as she nodded.

  Fletch wanted to smile, but he controlled it and went on with his well-rehearsed speech. “You can use one side of the garage for your car, but any boxes of other stuff you want to store will have to be either in the apartment or you’ll have to rent a storage unit. There’s simply no room in there for more. I usually park at the side of my house, so don’t worry about taking the empty spot inside the garage for your own vehicle.

  “When I’m gone, I’d appreciate it if you could get my mail and look after the place, but if that’s outside anything you want to do, it’s not a deal breaker for renting. Rent’s due the first week of the month, whichever day works best for you. Any questions?”

  Emily tried not to fidget under Fletch’s direct gaze. His eyes were ice blue, and had her pinned in place. His hair was longer than she thought anyone in the Army was allowed to have, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He was good looking, but even though she was attracted to him, Emily wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship at the moment. She had enough on her plate.

  Knowing there was one thing he had to understand before she could accept the apartment with any good conscience, she cleared her throat.

  “You should know, I have a kid. Her dad’s not in the picture. She’s six and in the first grade. I didn’t know if that would be a deal breaker for you or not. I didn’t see anything in the ad that said whether or not kids were allowed.”

  “Does she scream all day?”

  “Uh…no.”

  “Steal? Draw all over the walls? Destroy property?”

  “No!” Emily sat up straighter, getting irritated. “She’s six. She’s not a thug. She doesn’t hang out on the street c
orner with her homies every night. She plays with her toys, reads books, and watches cartoons.”

  “Then I don’t think we’ll have a problem,” Fletch said with a smile, amused at how easy it was to rile the woman sitting in front of him.

  Emily chewed on her lip, as if contemplating her next words. Fletch saw the moment she worked up the nerve to tell him what was bothering her.

  “She can be very inquisitive though. She asks questions…lots of questions. Some people have gotten annoyed with her in the past.”

  “Annoyed?” Fletch asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, annoyed. The thing is, Annie’s smart. Really smart. I try to keep her busy and find things to help stimulate her, but she has an unrelenting need to learn. Some of my neighbors in the past have gotten irritated with her asking them questions all the time. But she doesn’t do it to be annoying, she just likes to figure stuff out.”

  “Of course she does. She’s a kid. I have no problem with questions, Emily.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Is she gonna break into my house and come up to my room in the middle of the night and interrogate me about how the garage door opener works?”

  Emily giggled. “Maybe not in the middle of the night, but I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that sooner or later she’s gonna want to know. And, as far as I’m aware, no one has taught her how to pick a lock…yet.”

  “Good to know,” Fletch said with a grin.

  “I just…some people don’t like kids and I don’t want to live anywhere again where she’s made to feel like a freak.”

  “Again?” Fletch asked in a low voice. “You lived somewhere where someone made her feel like a freak? A six-year-old kid?”

  “She was four, and yes.” Emily’s answer was succinct and she didn’t offer any other details.