Danger and Desire: A Romantic Suspense Anthology

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Xander wanted to scream. He wanted to get directly in Sinclair’s face and tell him to get the fuck out of his path or get knocked over.

  But he couldn’t, because God damn it, the guy was right.

  Still, Xander wasn’t about to take any of this lightly. “Fine. But whatever we’re going to do, let’s figure it out right now, because I love that woman, and every second she’s in danger is one second closer to me doing whatever it takes to get her out of there no matter what I have to risk.”

  “Well then,” Garza said, the edge of his mouth hooking up into a smile. “Guess we’d better let the rookie kick in some doors in the name of romance. Here’s what I’m thinking.”

  Tara knew her time was up. Blaze had dragged a table to the center of the room and proceeded to pull out a padded canvas roll like chefs used to carry their knives. Only, the tools in this case looked a crap-load more sinister, with blades and hooks and—Tara bit back a whimper—two circular saws, along with a full set of scrubs and elbow-length rubber gloves.

  The only thought that soothed her in the slightest was that maybe, just maybe, she’d see Lucas soon.

  But, oh, God, she was so frightened.

  She started to tremble so hard that her teeth chattered. She had to keep it together, she had to think. Desperate, she reached into her memory, letting Xander’s soothing voice wash over her.

  On the route, the ship accidentally lost a shipping crate, like, smack in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I bet you can’t guess what was in it…

  “Time’s up.” It was the first thing Blaze had said to her, and the finality of it sent panic into Tara’s throat.

  Twenty-eight thousand rubber ducks.

  She managed to breathe. “Please,” she whispered, partly to buy time and partly because she had no problem begging for her life. “Please don’t do this.”

  “They all say that, you know. But that’s fine.” He walked over to her, lifting her up by one bound arm like she was nothing more than a rag doll. “You’ll bleed more if you struggle.”

  “Freeze! Remington PD! Show me your hands!”

  Xander’s voice rang through Tara like a spoon against cut crystal, clear and true.

  Blaze, however? Was very unimpressed. Wheeling Tara around, he pressed the blade of the knife he’d been holding against her slamming pulse. “She’ll be dead before you can pull the trigger.”

  He’d angled Tara in front of him, using her as a shield. But that didn’t stop Xander from training his gun on Blaze and saying, “And you’ll be dead before you hit the floor. Your choice.”

  “No choice.” Blaze laughed against her ear. “You won’t risk it. I can smell it on you. How scared you are for her life.”

  He drew the blade over Tara’s neck, enough pain searing through her to make her cry out.

  “Stop!” Xander yelled, frustration crossing his always-calm features. “Okay, okay. What do you want?”

  “Jesus, you weak fuck. You’re making this too easy.” Blaze shook his head. Confusion flickered through Tara’s brain—why would Xander have barged in just to give up so easily? “Put your gun down and kick it over to the corner. There you go, you pussy,” he sneered as Xander did what he’d asked. “Now get over here so I can tie you up before I give you the privilege of watching her die.”

  Tara’s mouth dropped open. But then, Blaze loosened his grip on her, lowering the knife just enough as Xander took a step forward, and Xander looked at her, his face perfectly calm as he said, “I will do anything to keep you safe, Tara. Anything.”

  What happened next was all slow motion. Xander’s gaze flickered over Blaze’s shoulder, his chin lifting in the barest nod. Bunching all of her muscles as tight as they’d go, Tara snapped her chin forward, using her momentum to smash the back of her head directly into the spot where she hoped and prayed Blaze’s nose was.

  Xander lunged for her at the same moment Garza burst from the shadows and smashed his pistol into the back of Blaze’s head.

  “Remington PD! Stand down!” Garza barked. But the words were sadly unnecessary, since Blaze had gone down like a bag of bricks.

  And Tara was in Xander’s arms. Safe. She was safe.

  They were all safe.

  “Shit, babe. You’re bleeding,” he said, reaching for the scratch on her neck that—okay, ow—might be a little more than a scratch.

  “I don’t care,” she said. Dimly, she registered voices, a bunch of shouting and movement she couldn’t focus on.

  She was too busy realizing she was alive. “You really meant it, when you said you’d do anything to keep me safe.”

  “Yep. I was a total decoy. But I needed to be sure you were okay before Garza could do his thing.”

  “Oh,” Tara breathed, leaning into Xander’s embrace. “Well, yes. I’m very, very okay.”

  “Nice head butt, by the way,” he said, holding her tight.

  “Nice rescue,” she murmured.

  And then everything went dark.

  Xander looked at Tess Riley and frowned. “Are you absolutely sure she’s okay?”

  Dr. Riley gave up a laugh, which would’ve been a good sign if Tara hadn’t nearly fucking died at the hands of a madman mere hours ago. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love endure a trauma, so I’ll go through it one more time for you, Officer Matthews. Ms. Kingston sustained a blow to the back of the head, right here”—she indicated an X-ray on a large digital monitor in the exam room—“that resulted in a concussion. A subsequent MRI was clear. My very capable resident, Dr. Drake, repaired the laceration on her neck with five stitches. Dr. Drake, by the way, has excellent hands and is on his way to becoming an accomplished surgeon. Just don’t tell him I said so. Other than a few mild contusions to her wrists and ankles, Ms. Kingston is just fine. I expect she’ll make a full recovery in a few days. Provided she’s well cared for, of course.”

  “I told you,” Tara said, eyeing him from the gurney. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” Dr. Riley corrected. “But apparently, you’ve caused quite a ruckus in my waiting room.”

  “I have?” Tara asked, and shit. Xander hadn’t wanted to rile her up, but…

  “Yeah. I guess Sansone resisted when the Intelligence Unit tried to take him into custody. They tried to bring him in without a fuss, but he went for one of the guards’ guns, and…”

  “Detective Hollister tasered him into next week,” Dr. Riley said, not unhappily. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him nice and fixed up so he can stand trial. Between him and the huge dude recovering from a concussion just like yours, I’m sure you’ll be busy when you feel up to working again.”

  “Oh, yeah, no,” Tara said. “My boss is going to take this one. I’m officially done with Ricky Sansone and his partner.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Dr. Riley said. “Well, get some rest. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but when you’re ready to be released, just let me know. I assume Officer Matthews, here, will be your caretaker?”

  “Yes,” Xander said without hesitation. “I’ll make sure she gets whatever she needs.”

  “Great. Take your time. Just ring the nurses’ station if you need anything.”

  Xander thanked her quietly before turning to Tara. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me today, you know.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Tara said, her auburn brows furrowing. “Amour’s okay, though, right?”

  “She’s perfect,” he said, because he knew she wouldn’t rest until she was absolutely certain Amour was just fine. “After Judge Waters suspended the trial, she went to the Thirty-Third with Isabella. Apparently, Amour is a whiz at picking out a baby registry.”

  “Seriously?” Tara asked, and Xander raised one hand.

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “You’re better than a Boy Scout, Xander,” she said, her expression growing serious as she reached for his hand. “If you hadn’t gotten there when you did—”

  “Stop,” he said,
because seriously, he couldn’t bear the thought of what if. “I did get there. And you created the perfect opening for me to get you out of there.”

  “You trusted the Intelligence Unit to have your back,” she said, and here, he had to nod.

  “You trusted me, and I trust them.”

  “So, I guess that makes you a good man after all.”

  “It makes me a man who’s falling in love with you.”

  Xander’s face flushed with heat, and okayyyy, guess he was going to say that out loud.

  Still, it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, the words felt perfect.

  So he said them again. “I love you, Tara. I know it sounds a little impulsive and crazy, but I do. I’ve known it from the minute I saw you, marching toward me at that crime scene with your hands on your hips and all that fire in your eyes. You’re smart and fierce and perfect. You stand up for what’s right, and I always want to stand beside you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, and wait…

  “You do?”

  “Of course I love you,” Tara said with a laugh. “Who else is going to keep me calm when murderous psychopaths try to kill me?”

  “You have a point,” Xander said. “Although, maybe we could skip the murderous psychopaths from now on, since we’ve had our fair share?”

  “Okay,” Tara agreed. “Just as long as there are rubber ducks, I think we’ll be just fine.”

  Not ready to leave Remington yet? Make sure to preorder “tall, dark, and broody” Detective Matteo Garza’s book, THE GUARDIAN, for a special price right here.

  While you wait, you can catch up on the Station Seventeen series right here (Kennedy and Gamble, Isabella, Capelli…they ALL have standalone romances!)

  Night Owl by Rachel Grant

  A Raptor Novella

  Night Owl

  A Raptor Novella

  Jenna O’Donnell wants only three things: to live in Tamarack, Alaska for the rest of her life; for Ted Godfrey to fall into a glacial crevasse; and Brad Fraser.

  Brad Fraser wants only three things: to leave Tamarack, Alaska and never return; for his coworker, Ted Godfrey, to be fired; and to never, ever fall in love.

  But Brad tempts fate when he takes Jenna out for a night of owl watching, and once he spends time alone with her, his carefully planned escape from both frigid north and fiery waitress is no longer simple…

  Chapter 1

  Tamarack, Alaska

  June

  Jenna O’Donnell wanted only three things in life: to live in Tamarack for the rest of her days, for Ted Godfrey to fall into a glacial crevasse, and Brad Fraser. She also wanted her father’s health to improve, but as long as he refused to manage his illness himself, that was impossible, and she didn’t waste time asking the universe for impossibilities.

  She leaned on the bar of the Tamarack Roadhouse and fixed her gaze on the table of five Raptor operatives, which included Godfrey and Fraser. Which of her three life goals was most achievable?

  If Raptor’s military training compound shut down due to safety issues, her job as server and bartender at the roadhouse was in serious jeopardy, and without a job, there was no way she could afford to stay here. But she wasn’t so selfish as to think her need for a job superseded safety for military personnel, so she’d deal.

  Instead, she’d focus on her other wants. Which was more likely, Godfrey’s not-so-unfortunate demise, or finally getting Fraser in her bed? Sadly, if she were the betting kind, she’d put her money on the crevasse, because Fraser had made his lack of interest more than clear.

  Nate “Hawk” Sifuentes raised a hand in signal, and she grabbed her tray and towel and stepped from behind the bar. Wednesday nights tended to be slow, so she was alone in the front of the house and was both tending bar and serving tables. She didn’t mind the double duty. Raptor operatives—and Falcon team in particular—tipped well. Except for Godfrey, but he was the exception to everything.

  He’d always set her on edge, with good reason. Never trust a man who treated waitstaff like crap.

  She approached the table, her focus on Sifuentes, the customer who’d summoned her. But damn, all five men at the table were crazy hot. Godfrey might even be the most handsome of the bunch, with chiseled features that could grace any movie poster. He was pale, with the exception of his arms, which sported full-sleeve tattoos in vibrant ink.

  Sifuentes had light brown skin with thick, dark brows, even thicker hair, and a sexy, trim beard. He too had a tattoo—in a nod to his nickname, he sported a large hawk that wrapped around his chest and back—but she only knew about Nate’s hawk tattoo because last week, he and the rest of Falcon team participated in a car wash fundraiser for Tamarack High School, and all nine men on the team had washed cars sans shirts. It had been better than watching Magic Mike.

  Chase Johnston was fair skinned and lightly freckled, with a boyish face—he could pass for eighteen—but she’d carded him when he first started working for Raptor a month ago, and knew he would turn twenty-three in a few weeks. His demeanor was as sweet as his face.

  Then there was Dev Kalla, who, like Chase, was a recent addition to Raptor. He was from Mumbai, and to the best of her knowledge, he was the first Raptor operative to have served in a foreign army. His hair was black and his skin a dark brown. He was utterly beautiful, with a sharp nose and warm brown eyes and an accent she could listen to all day.

  But Brad won Jenna’s internal crush wars, every time, and he was the reason she’d had her car washed three times last Saturday. From the first moment she’d laid eyes on him three years ago, he’d been the focus of her lust, and she still wasn’t certain why.

  His body was perfect, of course. But that was true for all the senior operatives. They spent their days working out and training others, and the end result was broad muscled shoulders, six-pack abs, firm glutes, and hard, sculpted thighs. He was fair—light blue eyes and blond hair—and he oozed a quiet, confident masculinity that set her heart racing.

  Plus, he was genuinely kind and he knew how to make her laugh. Yet he seemed oblivious to her interest. He treated her like she was his little sister.

  It was beyond irritating that he failed to notice her, especially considering the ratio of single women to men in Tamarack was one to four, and when she added in the Raptor operatives who lived in the compound, the numbers skyrocketed in her favor. She should have her pick of men. But for some insane reason, she wanted the one man who wasn’t interested.

  “You want another Midnight Sun?” she asked Nate as she cleared his empty pint glass.

  “Sure, but we need you to answer a question first.”

  “Fraser, Johnston, Godfrey,” she said rapid-fire. “Anything else?”

  “What?” Chase Johnston asked, confusion on his young face.

  She gave the table a sassy grin, mentally calculating her coming tip. She didn’t give a crap about Godfrey. He was a lousy tipper anyway. “Sorry, I assumed the question was Fuck, Marry, Kill. It wasn’t? Oops.”

  It took a moment for each man to register the order of the names she’d given, and when they did, Nate and Dev laughed, Chase choked on his drink, Ted raised his beer in a silent toast, and Brad…Brad held her gaze, and for the first time in the years she’d been lusting after him, the look in his eyes was…not blank.

  Was that…a smolder?

  Her stomach dropped like the first plummet on a roller coaster.

  No. She was imagining things.

  And yet the heat and intensity were there.

  Nate saved her by asking, “I didn’t make the cut, Jenna?”

  She shifted her gaze to him, one seat over from Brad, her belly still tingling. “I like you too much to ruin our friendship with sex, matrimony, or murder. So, what was your question?”

  Nate laughed and shook his head. “Right. That. I just wondered if you’ll have new prints for sale soon.” He pointed to the wall of framed, high-quality prints of photos she’d taken of the Alaskan landscape and wildlife.

>   She had a photography degree, and Charlie, the owner of the Tamarack Roadhouse, let her use the taproom as her gallery to sell prints for extra money. Right now, about a third of the spots on the wall were empty.

  “I’m interested in the glacier ones. I want to send one to my brother.”

  “It’ll be a few months before I have more. I’m out of frames and matting material and need to save up for the printing costs. But I can do a special order for you. Next time you’re coming in, let me know, and I’ll bring my glacier album and you can choose one.” She felt a little buzz of excitement. A special order would help pay for materials to fill the blanks on the wall.

  “Sounds good,” Nate said.

  “I’m interested in ordering one too,” Brad said. “One of your landscapes with the mountain behind Tamarack. I’d like a poster size.”

  Her buzz of excitement became a full-on tremor. Not only was Brad interested in buying one of her prints—for the first time ever—he also wanted one that would cost several hundred dollars. She beamed at him. “Great. I’ll bring the landscape album too.” Her hands were shaking with the excitement of it all as she picked up his empty glass. “Refill?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Even his response was above-average polite. In her many years working as a server, she’d noticed adults pushed saying “please” on their young children, but rarely used the word themselves.

  Dev’s glass was half full. She raised a brow, and he nodded.

  “Godfrey, another scotch?”

  “Yeah, make it a double.”

  “Hey, man, you’re designated driver,” Brad said.

  Ted nodded toward Chase. “The rookie can drive.”

  “No way,” Nate said. “Chase is the reason we’re celebrating.”