Flynn.
It took every bit of Brick’s SEAL training to keep his body loose and prepared to get out of what was about to become a fucking mess. How the hell hadn’t he caught on to Flynn’s approach until it was too late?
Janie. His feelings for her had caused exactly what he’d thought it might—distraction. He didn’t meet her gaze. Instead he looked over her shoulder and saw two men ease out from behind their tropical cover.
Three on two. Not bad odds providing Flynn didn’t just shoot them.
Brick couldn’t hear Flynn move, but he sensed that the man was closer. Flynn had been one of Brick’s closest friends at one time, when Flynn was a SEAL, too. Not any longer.
“Turn the fuck around, Sanders. Hands behind your head.” Flynn’s voice was now filled with rage. “You know I won’t have any problem putting a hole in your woman’s head if you screw with me.” The man made a snarling sound as he added, “I want her right beside you.”
Brick didn’t bother to ask Flynn to let Janie go. That would be the last thing the bastard would allow. Brick met Janie’s gaze and he felt pride at the strength he saw in her eyes. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
He wasn’t wearing his weapons belt, but he always kept a handgun in his boot and a knife in the sole. Not that Flynn would give him a chance to use either.
When Brick had raised his arms, hands behind his head, he slowly turned and faced the redheaded man who’d grown a goatee. Women had always gone for the bastard’s inherited Irish charm and wit.
“You destroyed everything.” Flynn’s hand remained steady, his weapon leveled at Janie as she stepped up beside Brick. “Had a real good thing going with Chavez before you took out my half of the operation.”
“Nothing personal,” Brick said, maintaining his calm. “You know it was our job.”
“Bullshit.” Flynn’s naturally pale complexion had reddened to the point that Brick wondered about the man’s blood pressure. “I offered you a deal if you’d turn attention away from my business. You should have taken the deal.”
“Like I said. Nothing personal.” Brick stared at his former friend—more anger rushing through him for Flynn turning to narcotics—producing and selling cocaine. When Brick had found out, it had become personal.
But Flynn had spotted him during the takedown and retaliated by kidnapping Brick’s nephew. Flynn had been a friend of the family at one time and knew way too much about Brick’s personal life.
“Since you managed to get the kid back,” Flynn said, “I think I’ll take care of this sweetheart and you can watch as I bleed her out.”
From the corner of his eye, Brick looked at Janie. She didn’t blink and her expression remained neutral. A combination of pride and fear for her made his focus all the clearer.
Flynn held his gun on Janie as he drew a knife from his belt. He continued to hold the gun in one hand, the knife in the other.
Brick glanced at Janie’s hands, which were behind her head. She was pointing one finger toward the men behind her.
He met her gaze, hoping she could see that he understood exactly what she intended to do.
Flynn raised the knife as he took a step toward Janie.
She dropped almost flat to the ground, in a pushup position.
Brick dove for Flynn and tackled him. He knocked the gun from Flynn’s hand, but the knife pierced Brick’s shoulder and pain shot through him swift and hot. He ground his teeth to hold back a shout from the pain at the same time he slammed his fist against Flynn’s jawbone. He felt bone crack beneath his knuckles.
Janie twisted onto her back as the two other men went for her. She gathered herself in a tight ball and rolled between the men, catching them off guard.
She drew a knife from her waistband and another from her boot so that she had a knife in each hand. She surprised the men again by going on the offense—and slicing each of their Achilles tendons in a swift move of each hand.
The men shouted and shrieked as their legs gave out. Janie didn’t pause. As they hit the ground she sliced one man’s throat and rammed the other knife into the other man’s heart.
After a gurgle and a pause, both men went slack.
At the same time Janie had taken out the two men, Brick and Flynn grappled on the ground. Blood flowed from Brick’s shoulder but he ignored it as he fought the extraordinary strength Flynn possessed.
Still fighting on the ground, Flynn slammed his fist into Brick’s eye. For the slightest moment, Brick felt disoriented, but he recovered and delivered a knife-hand strike to Flynn’s throat.
The man gasped for air and started to swing at Brick, but Brick grabbed Flynn around the neck in a death hold. With one quick movement, Brick twisted Flynn’s head and snapped his neck.
Brick pushed himself to his feet and slammed his boot into Flynn’s head, even though the man was already dead. Adrenaline still ran high and powerful through Brick’s body and the thought of what Flynn had intended to do made him want to kill the bastard all over again.
He turned and looked at Janie who was getting to her feet from between the two men she had just killed. She was breathing hard, smears of blood on her hands, her hair sticking out all over the place—but she was alive.
Thank God she was alive.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Well that’s certainly an interesting way to tell a girl that you care for her,” Janie finally said with a hint of a smile.
The power of his feelings for her nearly overwhelmed Brick. He strode toward her, grabbed her in his arms, and nearly crushed her in his embrace.
* * *
Brooklyn, New York
Snow fell in big, fat flakes outside the Brooklyn carriage house. Janie looked onto the small patio where snow piled in corners and dusted the pavers. She snuggled into her long-sleeved, cream-colored cashmere sweater, glad for the warmth.
Laughter and chatter came behind her. She wasn’t used to such happy noises on Christmas Day, and it warmed her body and soul.
Janie’s mind turned over the past several days. They’d just arrived back in the States two days ago, but the op seemed like a hundred years ago and might as well have been a million miles away. She had no family, so Brick’s brother, Mike, and sister-in-law, Gracie, had insisted that Janie come to their home to join them for the holidays.
Lights from the Christmas tree twinkled, the colors reflecting in the window as she stared into the overcast morning and the flakes drifting down.
Janie turned and smiled as she looked at the children, Brick’s nephews and nieces. Brandon was the oldest at twelve, and his brother and two sisters ranged in age from three to ten. They were all staying close to the tree, anxious to open the gifts piled beneath it.
Brandon’s parents hadn’t let the twelve-year-old out of their sight, his mother hugging and kissing him every time she was near him. Janie could see in Gracie’s eyes the gratefulness along with the fear she’d had for her son.
Where was Brick? Or John as his family referred to him. Janie let her gaze drift over the room. Despite the fact that it was a carriage house, and was not large, it felt almost empty without his presence.
He was a different man with his family. More relaxed and he actually smiled when he was with them. She wondered if he’d ever smile like that for her.
She mentally shook her head. He’d said he cared for her, but that didn’t mean his caring went to the depth that hers did. She was in love with the big jerk. Madly in love. It was crazy how much she cared for him.
“Uncle John!”
The three youngest children cheered when they saw Brick coming down the stairs with an enormous armload of presents. No ordinary man could carry that many gifts at once. Not to mention he was still recovering from the recent knife wound to his shoulder.
Yesterday, Brick and Janie had done last minute Christmas shopping for the kids, as well as shopping for gifts for Mike and Gracie. Janie and Brick had separated at one point when Janie had wante
d to do a little shopping of her own. She’d found an exceptionally fine knife that she thought he’d like.
On the way back to the States, Brick had told Janie that he and the other men were looking at forming their own spec ops team for hire. At different times during the coming year each of their tours of duty were coming to an end. Before Janie could even tell Brick she wanted to be part of that team, he’d told her he wanted her to join them.
They’d come a long way—in more ways than one.
Since that moment in the jungle, when he’d told her he cared for her, they hadn’t had much time alone. Not nearly enough time to talk about anything personal. What time they’d spent, shopping in the chaos of New York City hadn’t been exactly great for any heart-to-heart conversations.
She watched as Brick set the presents under the tree and crouched beside it. She smiled as he handed out gifts to each of the kids as well as to Mike and Gracie. Warmth was in Brick’s expression like she’d never seen before.
When he finished doling out the gifts, while the kids were tearing off the wrappings and exclaiming or shrieking with delight, he got to his feet and moved aside. His gaze met Janie’s and he gestured for her to come to him.
She stepped past the kids, dodging presents and avoiding scraps of wrapping paper. When she reached Brick, he pulled her to the side of all of the excitement and took her into his embrace.
He kissed her with a passion that seemed like a lifetime in the making. It felt so good to be surrounded by his big arms and pressed against his massive body.
When he drew his head back, he caught her by the chin and tilted her face up so that their eyes met. “I love you, Janie.”
She caught her breath as she stared at him. There they were, standing in the middle of a living room filled with his family, and he’d just told her that he loved her.
“You love me?” She could barely get the words out. They seemed so hard to believe that they echoed in her mind. He loved her?
“I sure as hell do.” When he smiled, something expanded in her heart. Something warm that flowed throughout her body.
Janie wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips over his before leaning back and grinning. “I just so happen to love you too, you big ass.”
“Damned good thing.” He fished a hand into his pocket and brought out a small box. “We’ve known each other for over six months, but it feels like I’ve loved you forever.” He opened the box. “I want you to be mine for a lifetime. Be my anchor, my family—my home, Janie.”
She put her hands to her mouth as she stared at the simple gold band with princess cut diamonds in an invisible setting, a ring she could wear even when she was out in the field. It was so like him to pick out something so simple and so perfect.
“Is that a yes?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That had better be a yes.”
She moved her hands from her face and laughed. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger, her hand shaking with joy and nerves. “I’ve never had a home before.”
Brick hugged Janie tightly, telling her with every part of his being that she had a home now.
Visitor Under My Holiday Tree
A VERY short bonus story.
Early December
New York City
Dayanara Acosta clasped her hand over her mouth, staring in horror at remnants of smoke floating out of her bottom floor apartment. She’d done it now. How stupid could she have been, leaving her stove unattended? All she’d wanted to make was a few tacos.
And then she’d managed to get lost in a daydream over one of the hunky men she’d been communicating with on a dating site. She’d been thinking about how many years it had been since she’d had sex and how badly she needed to get laid.
Now, here she was, the New York Fire Department on her doorstep, along with the NYPD. Lights were flashing, people gathered around, and the entire building had been evacuated.
“Step back, Miss.” A man ushered her away from the building as firefighters finished putting out the blaze.
Her heart pounded and her skin tingled as she obeyed. “That’s my apartment,” she said helplessly.
“I’m sorry, Miss.” A note of understanding was in the voice that had a strong Puerto Rican accent. “We kept it contained to the kitchen, so the rest of your apartment should be habitable.” Then she thought he said, “And now all that needs rescuing is your heart.”
She snapped her gaze to him, for the first time looking up at the man who had pulled her farther back from the building. He was a firefighter, with his helmet shield up, soot streaking his cheek. He had eyes so dark, eyes that seemed to be assessing her, as if he had a question he wanted to ask but dare not. He was clearly older than her, but had a youthful energy about him.
Rescuing her heart? Brow furrowed, she asked, “What did you say?”
He gave her a gentle smile. “Thank God that all that needed rescuing was your kitchen.”
“Oh.” The shock of it all had her imagining things. “Thank you for what you and the other firefighters have done.” Feeling utterly helpless, she turned back to the utter and total catastrophe in front of her.
Some of the recipe books and other things in the kitchen had been gifts from David. He’d known that it was her favorite room in the house and she’d made it warm and welcoming. When he’d passed away, the things he’d given her had become even more treasured.
“I’ll need some information.” The firefighter caught her attention again. “I’m Sergeant Salvador. Your name is?”
“Dayanara Acosta.” She swallowed. “You can call me Daya.”
She spent the next hour repeating her story to the fire sergeant and then to a police lieutenant. To her relief, the sergeant had been right and only the kitchen had been destroyed. She’d had so many special things in her kitchen that the losses still made a lump form in her throat and the backs of her eyes ache.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Let that be a lesson to you, chica, she thought to herself. No more dating sites for you.
* * *
Eduardo Salvador left the firehouse with a greater-than-usual sense of purpose. Moonlight blazed across the city, turning it to silvery twinkles of black and silver, dotted by streetlamps and bright window squares.
In the dark interior of his SUV, his clothes still smelled of smoke and wet ash—hazards of the job. Usually he showered at the station before leaving, but this time he was in too much of a hurry to make a call and to get home.
Most nights, he spent his drive home thinking of the day’s battles, but tonight was distinctly different. The woman with the kitchen fire had been something special. Just what he’d been looking for over the years, day by day.
He could hardly contain his excitement as he shifted gears into cruise, then popped out his cell and dialed the secret number.
“Yes?” came the almost unbearably musical answer.
Eduardo hesitated then cleared his throat. “This is Eduardo Salvador.”
A laugh tinkled through the digital receiver as he converted it to speaker. “Of course it is, love.”
Eduardo didn’t want to waste another moment sharing the news. “I’ve found the one for my younger brother. I’m sure of it.”
This time, it was Mama Claus who hesitated. “Are you certain Ramón is ready? The last time—”
“He’s ready,” Eduardo said emphatically. “He’s just scared. That’s where you come in. I’ll never be able to pull this off without you.”
She sighed, though it sounded like a subtle, sterling note from a clarinet. “Very well, then. Say the magic words, Eduardo. You know I owe you, and you know how this works.”
“All I want for Christmas is my brother’s happiness.” Eduardo gripped the SUV’s wheel and did his best to conjure an image of the incredible woman he’d met when she almost burned her own kitchen down. He saw her in detail, from her petite frame to her warm eyes and wavy shoulder-length black hair. More than anything, h
e envisioned her smile—and her address. “And Ramón’s happiness is Dayanara.”
“Dayanara,” Mama Claus echoed, her voice fading away like distant faerie songs. “Daya...”
Eduardo disconnected the call, then tossed the phone in his passenger seat. The rest of the drive home melted by in a blur. He couldn’t wait to get to the apartment, to tell Ramón the good news. He was so excited he didn’t even get nervous until he bounded up the stairs toward their door.
That’s when it hit him. Ramón would probably say no.
But Mama Claus would help. She’d insist. Eduardo had invoked the oldest magic, making it his Christmas wish. After all of his charity work through Angels of Mercy, he knew she felt that she owed him and his brother. Eduardo and Ramón would have done the charity work anyway, but Mama Claus believed in repaying kindness. Ramón was the only reason Eduardo would ever ask for her help and invoke the magic, and he knew she’d come through.
She had to.
Ramón had been in mourning long enough.
The apartment was quiet as Eduardo entered, but it smelled heavenly. Obviously, Ramón had been busy.
“Hello, little brother.” Eduardo draped his jacket on the apartment’s leather couch. “Show yourself. I have news! I met her today.”
“Who?” Ramón Salvador sounded only mildly curious as he came to stand in the doorway to the kitchen holding, of all things, an oven mitt. He looked like a model from a gentleman’s magazine—silk shirt to Eduardo’s flannel, perfectly pressed and creased Italian slacks to Eduardo’s jeans. Ramón always smelled of fine wine and wild, open spaces instead of this morning’s five-alarm blaze.
Eduardo smiled, steeled and determined. “Your next girlfriend.” He ran a hand over the smooth surface of his crew cut.
“You’re late,” Ramón grumbled, ignoring the announcement. “Come. Your dinner grows cold.”
Eduardo followed his brother into the kitchen. Ramón was tall and muscled, and women had commented that he was shaped like a Renaissance vision carved from the finest brown stone. He had a hawk’s keen eyes and demeanor, and the wisdom and wit of a brilliant college professor.
Bad Boy Christmas: Box Set Page 10
