by Jett Munroe
Their passion burns white hot. But danger is heartless and cold.
Hot Desert Heroes, Book 1
Delaney Murphy has had a stomach-fluttering, mouth-watering crush on Beck since the first time she saw him over the rim of her regular morning latte. But she’s never been long on self-confidence, especially around exceptionally handsome men.
After a year of avoiding him, she’s shocked when he slides into the next chair and wears down her resistance to a first date.
When Laney is laid off from her job, Marines special ops veteran Beck “Gravedigger” Townsend wastes no time hiring the quiet, auburn-haired beauty into Red Eagle Group, his security firm. Keeping her within touching distance—and under his protection.
Laney’s smile and sharp intelligence light up Beck’s life and heat up his bed, yet he hesitates to give her what she really wants: full access to the darkest corners of his wounded spirit. But when danger is delivered right to Red Eagle’s door, the only way to save her—and their love—will be to bleed. Body and soul…
Warning: Adult language and graphic sex scenes between a man locked behind his secrets, and a woman ready to break free of her past. If you think the desert is hot, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
In the Line of Fire
Jett Munroe
Dedication
Thank you to all the men and women of our armed forces—active, reserves, and retired. The sacrifices you and your families make are greatly appreciated. For those who gave the ultimate sacrifice…I am grateful.
Chapter One
Sitting by herself on a sofa by the big window at the front of the best cupcake-and-coffee shop in Tucson, Arizona, Delaney Murphy began removing the paper wrap from her carrot cake muffin. When her cell phone binged with a text message, she set her plate on the low table in front of her and pulled her phone from the outside pocket of her purse.
It was a text from Charlie, the man she’d been dating for the past four months and the same man she’d broken up with yesterday. He was a nice guy, the nicest, really. But it just didn’t work between them. There was no fire. No pizzazz. She’d wanted to feel a deeper connection and couldn’t.
He hadn’t taken it well at all when she’d told him “it’s not you, it’s me.” This had to be the tenth text she’d gotten from him since last night.
Give me another chance. Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you.
Seriously. He was too freaking perfect.
But not for her.
She’d known almost from the beginning things weren’t going the way they should. She’d kept putting off ending it because she didn’t want to go back to being lonely. But if she was honest with herself, being with Charlie hadn’t made her feel any less alone.
She’d just been alone with someone else along for the ride.
Staring at the large saguaro cactus in front of the window then the mountains beyond, she sighed and clicked off the message, slipping her phone back into her handbag and picking up her plate. As usual, her record for choosing men who weren’t suitable for her, one of whom had later turned into a husband, held true. The first serious relationship with a boyfriend had gone two years and come with an engagement ring she’d given back when she found him in bed with another woman. Clichéd, but sadly true.
He’d been followed by an abusive and domineering husband, a marriage she’d stayed in for seven long years because she’d been trained by her mother from an early age to believe that was all she deserved because she wasn’t…enough. She wasn’t pretty enough. She wasn’t slim enough. She wasn’t interesting enough.
She could hear her mother’s voice in her ear: If only you’d try harder, Delaney. Followed by a pained sigh. Or there was the frequent Are you sure you want to eat that, darling? Your behind is already quite large.
Because she’d listened to her mother when she told her it was her fault she was being abused, it had taken more than one backhand across the face from her husband to get her to smarten up and make him an ex before the violence could escalate even further. Her divorce had become final three years ago. He’d been reluctant to let her go and had messed with her in a myriad of ways, from drunk calling her in the middle of the night to letting the air out of the tires on her car. Finally, after she’d threatened to get a restraining order taken out against him, he’d stopped all the nonsense and had gotten out of her life and on with his. He’d remarried six months later. It would have been better for her mental health if he’d also gotten out of Tucson, but as long as he left her alone, she could deal with the fact that they lived in the same town.
Delaney had come a long way with her self-esteem in the intervening years, but a lifetime of being told she was lacking in several major areas—first by her mother, then by her husband—had seared a huge swath of destruction through her soul. No matter what her younger sister, Morgan, told her repeatedly. Morgan, who according to their mother was everything Delaney was not, was also thankfully not like their mother. In spite of making a good living as a model, she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Maybe even more beautiful where it counted.
But even with all that, it was taking time for the emotional scars to heal and for Delaney to really believe she was worthy of more.
She let out another sigh. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault she hadn’t been in to him, and she knew he could tell she wasn’t. No, she laid that blame totally at Beck Townsend’s big feet.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced around, sure that by her very thoughts she must have conjured up the tall, handsome god she had a girlish crush on, but he was nowhere to be seen. One of the regulars, Mrs. Henderson, an elderly, white-haired woman, smiled and waggled her fingers. Delaney grinned and waved back.
Then she caught the gaze of a man, maybe in his early fifties, with dark eyes and thinning hair. She’d seen him in there before, been polite and murmured good morning to him a few times, learned his first name was Edmond, but that had really been all. Since she’d made eye contact with him, she sent him a brief smile and got one in return, then looked down at the plate in her lap and went back to considering Beck.
She’d met him almost a year ago. She’d been here at Coffee & Confections, a coffee/bakery shop, and he’d sauntered in, jeans molding long legs, a T-shirt hugging the firm contours of wide shoulders and broad chest. The minute she’d seen him, even as she’d practically self-combusted from an inferno of lust, she knew he was out of her league. Way out. Because he was hot. As in sizzle-to-the-touch H-O-T. So freaking handsome it almost burned her eyeballs to look at him. She didn’t know for sure, but he had to be at least six four, maybe even taller. Those burly shoulders and chest tapered to a slim waist and narrow hips. Tanned skin, dark hair dashed with bits of silver, and gray eyes framed by thick, black lashes that were just this side of feminine—though anyone who’d say that out loud clearly was someone with a death wish—completed the to-die-for package.
Beck came into the coffee shop frequently to get his sugar fix and for a cup of what she’d heard him call the best coffee in the West. When Delaney had first become aware of him, he’d been newly retired from the military, about a year or so, after belonging to some sort of special ops unit in the marines and had started up his own security firm. From what she knew now, his services were very much in demand and the company specialized in threat assessment, personal protection, and cybersecurity.
Not that she’d gotten the information directly from Beck because that would have meant she’d actually have to have had a conversation beyond “hi” in o
rder to know all that. No, she’d pried the information out of her friend Lily Lowry, one of the owners of the coffee shop, because she wanted to know everything she could about him.
Whenever he turned those cool, gray eyes her way, they darkened to the color of storm clouds. Sometimes they seemed to hold interest in her and other times they seemed irritated. At her.
What he found wrong with her she had no idea since she did her best to stay out of his way. She also did her best to avoid the two friends that sometimes came in with him, hot Gabriel Falco of Italian descent and lean African-American Tyrell Thorne. All of them were complete eye candy, though Beck, to Delaney’s eye, was the best looking. Gabe wore a wedding band, and she’d overheard him mention his kids from time to time. He seemed happily married in a major way.
She didn’t know anything about Ty’s background. He didn’t talk much, according to Lily. Delaney wouldn’t know that firsthand because she never hung around long enough to get pulled into conversation.
Every once in a while, the guys would sit on one of the sofas by the big front window, where Delaney was now, and eat their pastries and drink their coffees. Then they’d go up to the counter for another coffee to go. When that happened, she made sure to come in, purchase her goodies and go back into the kitchen to hang out with Lily or co-owner Andriana Garcia Miller. Or, if they were exceptionally busy, Delaney would get hers to go and get out of there while Beck and his buddies were still parked on the couch.
So she’d spent the last twelve months lusting and maybe even loving a little bit from afar, but staying away because when faced with a guy like Beck—a man who was inordinately attractive and who had it going on—she ended up doing stupid things. Saying stupid things. Being a complete doofus.
When around hot guys, Delaney felt like she was still that gangly, awkward fourteen-year-old with braces and pimples. The ugly duckling that had never turned into the graceful swan. She became a dork to end all dorks. And she didn’t want Beck to witness said dorkiness. So she avoided him. Always.
Just yesterday she’d come in at her normal time, 7:00 a.m., on her way to work, and had been relieved to see neither Beck nor any of his friends parked on the sofa. By the time she’d made it to the front of the line and turned with her coffee and muffin, two of them had made themselves comfy there. Ty was in line, apparently the one conscripted to get the coffee and pastries that morning.
She obviously hadn’t planned to take her breakfast to go, as she held the muffin on a small paper plate. And as bad luck would have it, it was a busy morning and none of the limited number of tables was available. Beck got to his feet, but before he could say anything or head her way, she used her best-friend privilege to dart around the counter and go into the kitchen.
Today she’d overslept, kinda-sorta on purpose because, one, it was Saturday and, two, she’d wanted to be sure to get there after Beck had come and gone so she didn’t make it into Coffee & Confections until almost ten o’clock. She was glad to see that neither Beck nor his guys were there and the breakfast crowd had vastly thinned out. The couch was free, so she got a caramel latte and a carrot cake muffin complete with a big swirl of cream cheese frosting. Giving her thankfully absent mother with her overblown concern for the size of her ass a mental middle finger, she sat down on the couch.
She’d pulled the paper wrapper off and had just finished twisting the bottom of the muffin away from the top when the cushion next to her depressed. Expecting to see either Lily or Andi, she licked icing off her finger and looked up with a smile. Then froze.
Beck. Beck Townsend had just sat down next to her, and he had a look on his face that told her he wasn’t going to give her a chance to run. He confirmed that when he said, “I’m not givin’ you a chance to run, Laney. No more playin’ around. Today’s the day you and I start to get acquainted.”
What?
She put the muffin halves on the plate and leaned forward to set it on the table. Fumbling for her napkin, she wiped the remaining icing off her finger. “Um…” She rolled her lips between her teeth and stared over his shoulder. A group of customers went out the door, including Edmond and Mrs. Henderson. The old lady gave her a wide smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up, while Edmond’s eyes narrowed on her and Beck. She wondered about that for a second, until Beck spoke.
“I get that you’re shy,” he murmured. “I like that you’re shy. It gives me the chance to make the first move instead of having to fight off unwelcome attention.”
Her eyes slid back to him. Seriously? Like any man, good-looking or not, would want to fight off a woman who wanted to get it on with him.
“You like people you don’t know gettin’ up in your personal space without invitation?” Beck asked.
She frowned. “No.” She glanced meaningfully at the spot where he’d parked his taut ass next to her.
He grinned but ignored her pointed look and said, “Neither do I.”
Maybe if she told him she wasn’t interested, which was a big, fat lie, he’d leave her alone.
“And don’t kid yourself or try to make me believe my attention toward you is unwelcome.”
Good God. Now he was in her head, knowing what she was thinking.
His lips twitched. “You have a very expressive face.”
Her breath caught and held. She was thirty-one years old. No one had ever told her she had an expressive face. She’d learned from a very early age not to let people, namely her mother and later her now ex-husband, see when they upset her, because then the nagging and bitching and belittling never let up.
She didn’t have an expressive face!
“Might’ve enjoyed women all up in my space when I was young and stupid,” Beck went on, his voice husky and deep. “I’m more selective now that I’m older and know what’s important, want what’s true and real.” His lips twitched again. “Laney,” he murmured and reached over to briefly squeeze her fingers. “Breathe.”
She exhaled noisily and got her lungs working again, though that quick touch of his warm hand on hers didn’t help in the endeavor. She had to play it cool and not say something dumb like she normally did around a good-looking guy. “I don’t have an expressive face.” She rolled her lips again and closed her eyes. Really, she just had to blurt out what she was thinking, didn’t she?
“Babe.” His voice brought her gaze back to him in time to catch his lip twitch turn into a smile. “You do,” he said. “Don’t ever play poker, baby. You’d lose your shirt.” Even as his grin widened, his eyes darkened to a smoky gray.
Oh God. He’d called her baby. She didn’t know what to do with that. She also didn’t know what to do with that smile. He was supremely handsome before he smiled, and what that upward tilt of his lips did to his face should have been illegal. She shifted her weight, trying to alleviate the sudden heat of awareness between her thighs. She was a grown woman, not some teenager fighting burgeoning hormones. She should be able to have a coherent conversation with the man.
Maybe if she didn’t look at him. Yeah, that could work. When she looked at him, especially if she met his gaze, the thoughts flew out of her head as if they’d been burned up by a wildfire.
“So,” he said, his deep voice soft and just raspy enough to snag her libido, “Lily and Andi tell me you work at SNJ Technology.”
Delaney nodded. It was a small but very successful military contractor. “I work for one of the VPs.” She realized what he’d said and her gaze flew to his face. He talked to my friends about me! And neither one had breathed a word, the big traitors.
“Which VP?”
She frowned, just a little, and put her gaze back to her hands in her lap. Tucson wasn’t that big of a city, but it still had over five hundred thousand residents during the hot summer months. That number swelled to over a million once the cooler temps of fall and winter rolled in. It was possible he knew her boss, she supposed, but she didn’t think it was
probable. “Trigg Halverson,” she finally replied, shooting him a glance from under her lashes. “He heads up the Data Compilation Department.”
“Ah.” Beck tipped his head forward to try to catch her eye and she, like a dork, ducked her head. “Don’t know him,” he said and followed it with a sigh. “Laney, darlin’, I’m not gonna jump you in public in front of God and witnesses. Please relax.”
How did one go about telling a hot guy that you weren’t afraid of him in a you’re-going-to-attack-me kind of way but rather were too afraid of being a big ol’ disappointment? What if she did relax around him and he discovered she just wasn’t all that interesting?
“You seeing anyone?”
There. That was her ticket out. Beck was a good guy. He wouldn’t poach on another man’s territory. If she told him she was dating someone, he’d leave her be. She tried to ignore the sadness she felt at that thought and focused instead on the relief she was sure to feel when he left her alone. “I broke up with someone yesterday. Now he’s texting me nonstop, asking me to take him back.”
Lord. God. Almighty. Why could she not just lie to the man?
“Ah. That explains the look you got on your face right before I came over here.” He reached out once more and this time took her hand in his, tightening his grip when her fingers quivered in his grasp. She stared at his hand, strong, roped with veins, long, square-tipped fingers with neat nails. He squeezed her fingers again. “You okay with it?”
She was fine with his hand. It was masculine and made her own look dainty by comparison. She glanced up and realized he was asking about the breakup.
Good. Here was another opportunity to send him on his way. Act brokenhearted, she instructed herself. Tell him you aren’t ready to get involved with someone else yet. “Oh yeah,” she heard herself say in a voice too chipper to sound sad. “I wasn’t all that in to him, which is why I ended things.”
Gah. She really had to stop talking.
