The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  “I’m glad you finally got your ass back home. Took you long enough,” Jared said.

  “Really not in the mood for it, boss man. What did you learn about our client?”

  “They’re legit and made contact through our CIA friend. That NOC list is heavy-duty. They’ll keep those operatives’ identities safe. You just have to bring it in.”

  “Heavy-duty? I could’ve told you it’s hot. I’ll bring it over this afternoon. We have to talk about securing Mia Kensington’s safety. The men after her and that disk are making some risky moves. It’s not going to stop.”

  He didn’t want Mia to hear him, and she wasn’t paying attention to him. She had Clara close to her face, pointing out another window. The baby pulled at her hair, and Mia encouraged her in whispers, talking to Clara, tapping on the window to show her a bird. Or tree. Or something.

  “Jared, I have to call you back.”

  He holstered the phone without waiting for a response and moved to Mia, threaded his fingers into her hair, and pressed his lips to her now agape mouth. She closed her lips onto his, and the intensity shot straight to his groin.

  Hell, he couldn’t help himself. His woman and his baby. It looked right. It felt right. Like it might have been if he had a normal life, and he wasn’t a man who went to work strapped to the hilt like a warrior, and she wasn’t a job gone rogue that he’d brought home.

  He could kiss her all day long. Her plump lips fulfilled him. The kiss washed away the pining that ate at him when he didn’t touch her. Thank God she kissed him back. He’d be completely messed up in the head if she didn’t.

  With his eyes still open, he stared at her, so close, so beautiful. Hers were closed, and he absorbed her warmth as she teased over his lips. His heart beat faster when she relaxed, molding into him while still holding his baby. Clara played with her hair with uncoordinated jerks, and Mia didn’t stop her. It was picture perfect. Straight out of a Disneyland fairy tale. He couldn’t have closed his eyes if he wanted to.

  He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to stay in the guest room.”

  “And I don’t want to.” She locked eyes with him, and his gut tightened.

  “I’m not asking you to play family. I get it. You don’t do family. And I… can’t. But I also can’t see you across the room and not want to hold you. You’re a crazy woman for even suggesting the couch.” He grazed a finger down her cheek. “I can’t sleep in the same house as you and not hold your sweet-ass body to mine.”

  Actually, he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing she was anywhere else in the world. He needed her under his roof, under his watch. While this job was a go, he would make sure she was by his side.

  Weighty seconds ticked by. Each heavy lungful of air burned in his chest, and his heart felt thick. After she ignored him all day and played down every attempt at his strained subtleties, he should have been apprehensive about bearing it all. But he wasn’t. It was a simple and basic need. Her with him.

  “Lunch is ready. I’ll heat up a bottle,” Judith called up from the kitchen.

  Rich smells drifted down the hallway. The spice and grease of fried chicken. The doughy aroma of biscuits fresh from the oven.

  Mia smiled, tranquil as his lake at sunrise. Nothing stirred. No hesitations. Only a calm, peaceful serenity. It was a small miracle. He’d have to start all over if she freaked out on him.

  “Are you hungry, Colby?”

  “Starved.” In more ways than one, but that wasn’t important.

  “Me, too. Let’s go.” Still carrying the baby on her hip, she laced her hand in his, and pulled him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by his mother that Mia walked in with the baby on her hip. Her stomach swirled at the woman’s barely raised eyebrows and dawning realization of her and Colby’s questionable circumstances. His mother didn’t say anything to her or, as far as Mia could tell, to Colby.

  Plates heaped high with food sat on the table. The spread should have been displayed on a cooking show. Picture perfect, and she was much hungrier than she realized. Famished, really.

  The bottle warmer buzzed on the counter. Judith grabbed it, tested the bottle on the inside of her wrist while eyeing Mia. “You must be starved. But you’re more than welcome to feed her if you want.”

  Mia’s cheeks heated at the offer. “I don’t know the first thing about feeding a baby.” That, and she was sure the baby in her arms would call her bluff and jump if Mia so much as moved.

  “It’s simple. She does all the work. Just hold her like this.” Judith moved Clara into a cradle in Mia’s arms and passed her the bottle. “And hold the bottle upright like this. Support her head. She’ll stop when she’s done.”

  Mia looked at Colby. He smiled, encouraging her. All right, maybe holding Clara wasn’t like snuggling an escape artist.

  Big, bright eyes blinked. Fat cheeks plumped then caved with each suck. Clara was mesmerizing. Enchanting. She made Mia believe in familial happiness for a flash. This was why women spoke incessantly about the biological clock screaming in their heads. She had read about it. Studied it. But before now, it didn’t click. Sugary innocence and unadulterated trust stared up at her, threatening to thaw one of her dark fears. Family. Children. Parents.

  “Look at you.” Colby came up behind her and leaned on the chair. His presence made her nervous. What if he didn’t want her to do this? What if he did?

  He massaged the anxious knots in her shoulders. In an instant, the hefty weight of concern washed away with his meaningful caress. “Clara’s addictive. Watch out for that, doll. I hate to grab my food to go, but I have to head to work.”

  He filled a plastic container. Watching him make his lunch made her laugh. Big, bad, tough Colby Winters—in real life, he was a baby-toting, brown-bag lunch packing, family man. Despite his lean muscles and hard-edged face, he was an honest man, trying to fix the world one tear gas grenade at a time.

  “It’s easy to see why. She’s perfect, Colby. You’re a lucky man.”

  Lucky. Happy. Warm.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t think those things of herself. She was just different. Family was a foreign concept. Long ago, she allowed hers to fade to black in her memory.

  Her childhood had been regimented. But even that description was an understatement. Her father had preferred to be called The Colonel. Her mother’s indifference to The Colonel’s rules and regulations came in the form of pills and booze. She never stood up for Mia, even when The Colonel put a knife to her throat to teach her a lesson or spanked her with a belt until she vomited. Welts branded her for days.

  Mia shook her head. No need to go down memory lane. No need to remind herself why family life didn’t work for her. All her pain was channeled to help others. Mia specialized in military families and soldiers who came home from hell. It was all in hopes that, one day, she could help a young girl avoid a home life like the one she had suffered through.

  But for now, for this simple moment, she appreciated family time with Judith, Colby, and Clara.

  She’d also savor the handsome man who proved so interested in being her hero. No matter where they were, or what they were doing, Colby made her blood rush at a feverish pace, crashing through her body like a stock car race. When he looked at her with those dark-as-night eyes, she felt stronger and more desirable than she thought possible. And when he didn’t look at her, heck, when he wasn’t in the room, the mere thought of Colby made her shiver with wanton need.

  He placed a disposable cell phone in front of her. “And you, beautiful… I’ll call you later. Burner phone. Another fun toy. If you have to call someone to let them know you’re safe on your vacation, use this one. If you need to talk to me, I’m the first number programmed in.”

  Colby placed a kiss on her lips that took her breath away, stilling all the concern and apprehension she felt in his home, with his baby. And in its place, she relished the bold attraction that bloomed. She was too overcome, and s
lightly embarrassed, at the casual intensity of his kiss to see if Judith saw them.

  Clara finished her bottle, and her sleepy eyes hung heavy. Colby scooped her out of Mia’s arms and placed her up against his shoulder. The baby wore a pink flower onesie and matching footed pants with ruffles on the bottom. She was a stark contrast to Colby’s combat boots, dark camo pants, and ass-kicker shirt.

  Mia knew he wore his Glock tucked into a holster under his shirt and saw the tactical knife secured against his calf. Both weapons were secure and safe from the curious reach of the baby.

  He burped Clara, his huge hand spanning the width of the sleeping baby, and left the kitchen. As he bounded into the kitchen again, he flipped on the switch for the baby monitor sitting on the counter. Mia listened to the last few notes of the mobile play a lullaby as he waved good-bye to her and his mom, grabbed his keys, and walked toward the garage door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Titan headquarters was a fortress, a high-tech lair with Fort Knox-like security. It was cold. Impenetrable. His home away from home.

  Winters stared over Parker’s shoulder at the wall of flat screens. Computer systems that NASA could only dream about continually scoured through data and satellite images like electronic wallpaper. Ones and zeroes danced a techie tango. High-resolution topography shuffled from one covert location to the next. The hub monitored their operations around the world. Teams he didn’t know, but would go through hell to assist, were mere blips on an observation screen and surrounded by all the intel that could possibly help.

  “Where’s Jared?” Winters ran his hand over the smooth war room table. Many a high stakes battle plan had been drawn there.

  Parker didn’t look from his wall of screens. “Most likely thinking of ways to torture people.”

  If Jared developed new techniques, Winters would love to try them on the fuckers chasing Mia. He’d try anything, experimental or not, if it meant a slow and painful demise.

  “We need a plan of action. Otherwise, I’m just going to start picking off anyone I don’t know. Titan’s legal bill will spiral into the cataclysmic category.”

  Parker spun in his swivel chair to face him. “You’re not going to like this, but I’ll bet my Ducati for your new WaveRunner, he’ll want to use Mia as bait.”

  “No. We’ve already been down that road, and I’m not doing it again. We can use the NOC list as bait. We can use me as bait. I’ll string that bike up like a piece of NOC list meat. But Mia is a no go.”

  “Whoever these guys are, they’ll follow her. She’s the easy target.”

  “You’d think with all of your damn brains and Jared’s ‘been there, done everything’ attitude, you two could come up with something more original.” Winters picked at his nail with his keys. “Shit. Easy target. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “That’s a lot of whining, Winters. Bring it up with Jared when you see him. You might as well grab some grub, I’m not going to be done for a few hours.” Parker put his earbuds in and turned back to the screen.

  “Would’ve been nice if Jared mentioned that when he said to get my ass to work.” Winters spun on his heels and hurried to his vehicle. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

  Juan Carlos Silva rang Diego’s phone all morning. No answer. Several possibilities crawled through his mind. The two most promising excuses were death or prison. Death was preferable. If Diego were incarcerated in an American prison, Juan Carlos would have to kill him later.

  Juan Carlos ran a hand over his smooth cheeks. He was so close to that list and that woman. How he wanted her now. A prize for his troubles. A bonus for the headache this American jaunt had caused him.

  It wasn’t as if he assigned an underling. He sent a capable, lethal man. Diego had never disappointed before. He’d never needed punishment, encouragement, or extensive lessons. No, Diego wanted to be in good graces. He wanted to be a leader. He’d never given Juan Carlos a reason to plan for his execution. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Diego might have been a pupil, his very own puppet, but he was expendable. Just like all the rest.

  Juan Carlos cracked his knuckles and knocked back the last of the amber liquor in his highball glass. “Have Alejandro brought to me.”

  Someone always listened for his orders. His staff would find his number two and send for him immediately, though none of them would venture near the man unless requested. Alejandro looked like a gorilla, snarled like a barracuda, and stunk like a sweat-soaked gladiator under the high sun. If he weren’t a valuable resource, Juan Carlos wouldn’t let him within one hundred kilometers of his estates. But he was valuable, and he’d more than earned his title of second in command. Alejandro developed ways to torture that made him cringe.

  Before he could refill his glass from the crystal decanter, Alejandro Suarez ambled into the room. An Uzi was draped over his shoulder like a child’s backpack, but nonetheless, he addressed Juan Carlos with a reverent tilt of his head. “You sent for me, Senor.”

  “Diego is failing. If he’s not dead, he soon will be.”

  Alejandro nodded. Perhaps hoping to carry out the death order.

  “Do whatever it takes to bring me that woman and the list. You should fly out this afternoon. Head to Washington, DC. You can have access to any of my resources you should deem necessary.”

  Alejandro smiled with the sadistic look Juan Carlos knew would fix his problems. His number two wanted the woman. He hadn’t given him a woman of his own in weeks. It was like tossing a meaty bone to a Rottweiler. A day later, he would be picking his teeth with a rib bone.

  Juan Carlos hated to sacrifice his bestselling product, especially the assumed caliber of Mia Kensington. A little older than he liked, but she had shown fight. Men paid well for that attribute. But if Alejandro succeeded, he’d give the man whatever he wanted.

  “Alejandro, mi amigo, if she’s to your liking, you may keep her as a reward for your continued excellence.” Without second thought to the tormented fate of the young woman, Juan Carlos returned to his desk to review a ledger.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Winters had a raw lump at the back of his throat since Mia had held Clara earlier in the day. And that kiss by the window didn’t help. Hell if he’d known he craved domestic bliss. Seeing her hold his kid knocked Mia intergalactic-style past the Milky Way.

  He had made his way home in a flash, driving like a man intent on sharing his newfound revelation. Now, he towered over her freshly showered body, relishing the scent of his shampoo in her hair. He resisted the urge to finger-comb it. They were in his living room. An empty house, except for the two of them. Too bad he missed another shower with her.

  “This could be complicated.” He rubbed a few dark strands of her wet hair between his fingers. “It feels complicated. It feels like something, and, doll, I’m not used to anything.”

  He broke from her, scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, hoping to push away the sinking dread. He was saying the wrong things. Mia remained mum, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  Without his conscious permission, his hands found her tresses again. “I’m sorry I had to drag you into this. Into my home. Into my family.”

  “It’s not that I dislike being here.” She tried to brush his hands from her hair, but it was no use. He couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  “Oh, it’s not, huh?” He laughed, cupping her chin in his hand. “Tell me then, Miss Psychologist. Where does all your anxiety stem from?” And tell me the root of mine while you’re at it.

  “From places you don’t want to know. Places I don’t want to share.”

  “Why not? You know things about me. All my shit. You know all about Clara and how she came into my life. You know my biggest fear is an inability to protect my family. That my career could somehow hurt Clara one day.” He took a breath. He sounded like a chick. “I showed you mine. What about yours?”

  “Truth?” she asked, dripping in hesitation.

  “You want to stop now?”
>
  “Well, no.” A grandfather clock shook the room. Tic. Tic. Toc. “I don’t do family…”

  “You’ve established that.”

  “Because, well, it’d be better if I showed you. Look at this beauty.” She turned, dropped the waistband of her pants, and pointed to an old scar on her bottom.

  His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Were those scars? How did I not see that? She’d been below him and in front of him, but never bottom up. One line after another. They were definitely scars. Smooth and faded but very much there.

  She lifted her chin, took his angry fist, unfolded his fingers, and traced a narrow line. “And over here. They’re cuts. Slices. Deep reminders in my flesh as to where I came from and what I need to avoid.”

  He stood furious and mute, not knowing where to take his line of questioning. Kind words and coherent thoughts evaded him. It was his turn to go silent, despite the storm that thrashed inside his chest. He’d kill the motherfucker.

  “And I have marks on the back of my legs, real high up. Right under my butt. Thicker. Wider.”

  Thicker? Wider? He’d been so… distracted. He was a piece of shit. How did he not see this?

  “Mia, baby. I didn’t—”

  “You wouldn’t see them if you weren’t looking. They’re old. But nowhere near forgotten.”

  Deep pools teemed on the edge of her bottom eyelids, threatening a flash flood. They never fell, forced back by what could only be a will made of steel.

  “Mia…” What could he possibly offer this moment? He hated himself for not having a fucking hot spring of extraordinary things to say. For not knowing how to take away the pain she must’ve been feeling.

  “My mother drank like a fish. Or a sailor. Or whatever the worse of the two is. She chased her liquor with her pills. Pint-sized pills. Big-dog pills. Pink and blue. Yellow and white. Square and round and rectangle. She loved variety.”