The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  “Roger that,” he said, nodding to Sugar. He mouthed, “Few hours. No problem.”

  She nodded.

  Cash’s voice crackled as the chopper receded. “Oh four hundred, pick up at the bottom of base camp.”

  “Affirmative,” Jared replied, knowing Sugar would enjoy the rappelling-rope take-off as much as he did.

  Static filled in his ear, then silence. He pulled out the earpiece. Sugar’s hands were tucked under her arms, in her armpits, as she huddled against herself. Her body shook. His healing gunshot wounds ached, and the cold was beginning to seep deep into his body.

  “Take my gloves,” he offered, taking them off.

  She shook her head, her teeth chattering. “You’ll freeze.”

  That made him laugh. “I’ll survive.”

  “So will I. I’m fine.” Her teeth chattered.

  “Goddamn, woman. You’re stubborn.” Without thinking, Jared dropped to the ground next to her, wrapped her in a bear hug. She fought his hold, maybe just enough to be able to say that she did. But the struggle was an exhausted token gesture.

  Then all stilled. The brightest of stars shone like diamonds in the black sky. The night was silent once again, but that didn’t mean much. Tangoes were ready to tussle not far from their shelter. Forgetting it all, he held Sugar close, and the closeness felt… significant.

  Flickers of desire bled through him. Not in a familiar, wanna-jump-her-bones way. At least not right now. It was more torrid heat and carnal realization. Her shivers slowed, and her chattering teeth stopped, making the pressure in his lungs feel like he couldn’t take a deep breath if he wanted.

  She sighed, and as if by reflex, he pulled her tighter to him. A thrill soared from his head into his chest. His pulse went erratic. It didn’t make sense. Everything in his life, from work to women, was as structured as it was wild, and that warm buzz bouncing in his brain wasn’t on the schedule.

  He’d jumped out of planes into explosions, sunk to the bottom of oceans to battle riptides. But this rush was like what addicts must feel when drugs first hit their veins, why they went searching for another hit.

  In her lax position, she burrowed against him, and without his control, his eyelids slowly shut. Savoring it, he could only feel, only be in that moment, refusing to understand how or why he felt the way he did.

  Her head was tucked under his chin, and her hair pushed in his face, tickling his neck. Her bottom curved against his groin, and they lay as one in the frozen night against a boulder.

  Jared took a breath, trying to quell the eager anticipation of something more than he’d experienced before, though he didn’t know what to call it. He focused on the act of heat transference. This was a tactical act—a physical deliverance of heat to a woman who’d been held against her will in sub-freezing temps.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Sugar barely nodded. She didn’t act like a rescue victim, but she wasn’t the same badass with the Teflon exterior from GUNS. Maybe it was the moment, not the girl.

  “If you let your guard down with me, Sugar, and drop the tough-girl act, I won’t tell a soul.”

  She nodded again.

  Maybe it was both the moment and the girl. “Okay, then. Get some sleep, and we’ll get the hell out of here in a few.” And for some goddamn reason, he nuzzled into her hair and pressed his lips to the back of her head. A fucking kiss.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t respond, yell, or throw him an elbow. He threw his leg over hers with the silent excuse of staying warm and let her drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Intense muscle fatigue. It was the first thing Sugar noticed before her eyes cracked open. The next was a semblance of warmth. Not that she was warm. No, her feet were numb. Her cheeks wind chapped. But a stronghold of arms and legs had her cocooned. Jared.

  She tested her parched lips and tried to swallow away the dryness in her throat. A headache was kicking in full force. All in all, she felt like crap, and she had big problems to work out. The catalyst for her running away had wrapped his solid, muscled arms around her. She couldn’t be strong around the jerk. Her jerk.

  Her radar attracted the bad boys. It always had, but she’d been damned good at staying unattached and unaffiliated. Until Jared. His presence was enough to make her tongue-tied, warm, and bothered. Staying away from him had been the best course of action. Too bad the few thousand miles she’d put between had been reduced to inches, and here he was, tangled up with her under the edge of a giant boulder.

  Forgetting being dehydrated and exhausted, her blood flash-flooded, intent on making sure she noticed Mr. GI Joe. An explosion of goose bumps cascaded down her back. Noticed was the PG-rated version of how her body responded to him.

  She shook the horned-up thoughts from her head. They were buds who worked together. If she’d seen him in a bar, she would say, “Hey, let’s grab a beer.” Hell, she’d dated, for lack of a better word, one of the men who worked for him.

  But then their dancing-on-the-edge flirtation spiraled out of control and got real. She’d broken cover to help Jared, making the decision to think about someone besides numero uno.

  Whether or not he’d realized it, he had needed her help. Hell, whether he realized it or not, the look in his eyes hadn’t said thanks, it’d said DTF. Down to fuck.

  That wasn’t the road she wanted to go down, but she was certainly all about coasting on the shoulder, having a little fun. Nothing wrong with working with hot Mr. Grumpy Pants. And it would be a hell of a challenge.

  Look, but don’t touch. Flirt, but don’t give in. Seduce, but not really.

  Jared was a sport. He would never cross the line. Too rigid. Too many rules. But everything had changed again, and she didn’t know why. He had kissed the back of her head. That wasn’t flirty, fun, or DTF. It was freakin’ sweet. And she liked it. Too much. Disasters were made out of this type of hookup.

  Jared wasn’t the relationship type, and she respected him for knowing it. For flaunting it. He was an all-American hero mixed with rugged good looks. A man like Jared Westin wasn’t meant to be tied down.

  And a girl like her… No one could flirt better. She could sway her hips just right. She knew when to pause, drop her gaze, or smile. Sugar could work a man over without getting caught up. She’d perfected it for undercover work, for avoiding relationships, and for having a good time, with no strings attached. But a Jared-and-Sugar combo felt like it had a lot of strings—all of them loose ends and knots.

  “You awake?” The gravelly, morning timbre of his voice raked from the shell of her ear straight to her stomach.

  She nodded. All she’d been doing around him was nodding. Gestures worked best when she didn’t trust her voice or the words that might pour out of her mouth.

  He tightened his arms around her, causing her empty stomach to somersault. “We’ve got thirty-five minutes. You hungry? I have a protein bar.”

  Hungry? Try starved. But acknowledging that might require some talking. And maybe a little manners. “Very.”

  Sitting them up, he opened a zipper and produced the bar. It could’ve been filet mignon. Nothing had ever looked so appetizing.

  “Here.” He tore open the package and handed it over.

  “Want some?”

  “Nah. I’ll eat later.”

  Do I look that hungry? Hm-mm. Guess so. It was gone in four bites.

  Jared cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. His gloves were covering her hands. They were too big, but they did the job.

  She stripped them off her hands. “Take these back. I’m good.”

  Protesting, he tried to push them back on her, then stared at her palm. She’d cut it on that rusty knife. A nasty infection had turned the skin red and yellow. Perfect.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was disapproving. Maybe annoyed.

  “What do you want? A line by line of everything that hurts? My hand, my head. My throat is dry—”

  “How’d you split your
hand like that?”

  She shrugged. “Rusted knife, no handle.”

  “Asal gave you the knife?” His face was tight. His dark eyes were expressive, and his brows were furrowed. “Why? You were trying to escape, or…”

  “I needed to fend off my suitors. It worked. The cut was a by-product.” She smirked at the wound. “I wasn’t the only one cut by the thing, so two wrongs made a right in that case.”

  The muscles in his cheeks twitched. A deadly rage burned in his eyes. “Did they…” He cleared his throat again. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No.” She closed her fist to keep from staring at the cut. “Actually, you came just in time. So, thank you.” She tilted her head, showing as much gratitude as she could with what little energy she had.

  Anger radiated from Jared. He gave a grunt and nod. “We were going to helo out of here on rappel lines, but your hand is jacked.”

  A spike of adrenaline rushed through her. “Nice. No, I want in. I’m fine.” She opened and closed her hand, making a show of being fine, ignoring that it hurt.

  “Not a chance, baby cakes. I should’ve thought about potential injuries. Plus, you’re fatigued. I don’t need you dangling off a line.”

  “What are you going to do, Jared? Carry me back to America? Every obstacle that’s come up, you’ve backed away like I’m some glass figurine. I’m not going to break. I’m sure as hell not going to die. I already made that decision.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve been making a lot of decisions, haven’t you?”

  Confused, she stared at him. “We don’t have a choice, and I’m not waiting around any longer. Help me wrap my hand.” She paused as he rubbed his forehead. “Look, Jared, I’m not here because I’m bad at my job. I’m no weakling. I’m more than ready for this.”

  “You’re here because Kip Pearson screwed you.”

  “Yeah, I think so.” The icy tone to her voice matched the temperature.

  “I know so.”

  “Then good. You know so. I’d planned on finding the fucker and taking him down. Maybe you want to help me.”

  “There’s something bigger going on,” he said.

  “Always is. I just want to finish what he started.”

  “Kip’s on the take.” He cracked his knuckles. “All goddamn GSI is corrupt, and I’m gonna shut ’em down. You want in?”

  “Kip Pearson’s mine.”

  Jared didn’t look at her. “We’ll see about that.”

  “No deal. I get Pearson. Do what you want with GSI, but he and I have our issues to work out.”

  He refocused on her. “What happened out there?”

  She sighed, almost too exhausted to explain everything she’d seen. “The outpost police were corrupt. They worked with Taliban forces. GSI turned a blind eye, training both OP and Taliban. The money and guns aren’t missing. GSI’s working the system. Making loot. Training the enemy for big payouts.”

  Jared rubbed his chin, but he didn’t look surprised. He checked his watch, then tore a piece of fabric from his shirt. “We gotta go.” Little by little, that man was losing all his clothes to her. “Give me your hand.”

  She complied. It looked tiny compared to his larger, rougher ones, which made quick work of the bandage. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to ignore his touch.

  After tucking in the end of the bandage, he held her fingers in his. “You sure this will do?”

  Sparks shot up her arm, and she snatched away her hand. “Yes. It’s fine.”

  “Jesus, Sugar. Did that hurt?”

  “No. I just want to get out of here. Can we go already?”

  He watched her. Every emotion she had was surely plastered on her face. Interest. Lust. Uncertainty. She couldn’t hide it. Why can’t I keep anything from this man?

  “You know what? Something’s going on between us,” he said, deep in concentration.

  “Nothing’s going on between us.” Because I won’t let it. Because you think I’m a fun time, and for the first time, it scares me. “That’s insane.”

  They stared, silent. She waited, feeling the electric charge that pulled them closer.

  “Insane?” He leaned over and let his lips hover near her earlobe. “Something’s going on. I like a challenge, and you scream, ‘Just try me.’ That, Sugar, is something.” He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Tingles exploded down her neck, shooting toward her navel. Jared drew back, again locking eyes with her. “You’re a cool chick. I’m just worried fuckin’s gonna ruin everything.”

  The pounding in her heart reverberated into her throat. The tips of her fingers tingled. Everything tingled.

  He righted himself. “Nothing to say?”

  She took a breath, regaining her composure. “Easy fix. I’m not interested.”

  “Like hell.”

  “I’m. Not. Interested. Get it through your thick head, big boy.” She pushed on his chest and was reminded once again how stout and solid he was.

  A smile that made her dizzy teased across his face. He snatched her hand pressing against his chest and held it in his grip.

  Keep your head, girl.

  “You mind backing off me? Or do I need to push against this brick wall again?” With her other hand, she flicked her finger against a tactical-shirt-covered pectoral muscle.

  He laughed, clearly enjoying the tension she denied. “Baby cakes, you’re the most fun I’ve ever had on the side of an Afghani mountain. Let’s go.”

  ***

  Danger never made itself known. But Jared’s gut said they were GTG. Good to go. With Sugar hot on his six, he forged a path down the mountain. Right on time, the helo came into sight. He turned back to Sugar. An adrenaline jump-started smile crossed her face. Wrapped hand or not, she was stoked for this. So was he.

  Never thought I’d do this extraction twice. Although this time, he wasn’t jumping off a cliff into the black night.

  Never thought I’d be waxing poetic or whatever with Sugar in a cave. Telling her shit like, “Something’s abrewing.” Christ. He thought he might as well cut off his nuts after a sentiment like that.

  Dawn split the sky, and the enemy was nowhere to be seen. Their chopper came in fast and hovered low, just long enough to drop the ropes. They dangled for only a few seconds before being pulled on board the helo, but it was better than a roller coaster ride. The chopper pulled up, swinging the ropes, and he looked at Sugar, who was hanging in the air.

  Now that was a cool chick.

  Cash and Roman helped pull her in while Jared admired her form, how she wrapped a leg around the rope and hefted herself toward the hatch. Minutes later, he was by her side.

  Brock was manning the aircraft, and Cash and Roman served as lookouts, their trigger fingers at the ready. But Brock had an A-10 cannon at his command that housed a big kaboom and could decimate a building or two in a single blast.

  Jared and Sugar pulled on headsets, and he pulled down the mic. “Where’s Winters?”

  Roman and Cash laughed, throwing them bottles of water spiked with electrolytes. They tasted like crap, but did a body good. He cracked his open. Warm and fizzy, it was gone in three gulps. Sugar handled hers with a little more finesse, but it disappeared, too. Good girl.

  She wiped her mouth. “I hate that stuff. Got another?”

  Damn, she fits in well.

  Roman tossed them each another bottle.

  “Winters?” Jared asked again.

  Brock shook his head at the front. “Baby Winters decided today was go day. Mia pulled the emergency button, and his ass went home. Mach speed.”

  “No shit?”

  Mia Winters was a firecracker. Jared could only imagine the phone call that Winters got. “Thought that wasn’t supposed to be for another week or two.”

  “She hit him up on the sat phone, said to get his ass home. Contractions were coming hard and heavy. She called during the middle of one. Threatened to kill him.”

  “Nicola’s on her way to replace him,” Cash added.

  �
�You know she speaks all kinds of Persian?” Brock asked, sounding impressed. “She speaks everything.”

  “You surprised?” Roman rolled his eyes at his sister’s reputation.

  “Can’t help that you didn’t get the brains in that family,” Cash said to Roman. “Or the good looks. Man did you lose out.”

  Cash chucked them protein bars. Cinnamon Raisin? Great. He looked to see what Sugar had. Same thing. Jared made a mental note to get rid of anything with raisins in it.

  Sugar eyed Jared. Maybe she wondered about Nicola. Or maybe she wondered why he was trying to look at her bar.

  “She speaks twenty languages or so,” he told her.

  “Add in the dialects,” Roman offered.

  “And she can talk to anyone on earth,” Cash finished.

  “She’s going to help us with Asal?” Sugar asked, toying with the wrapper without opening it.

  “You bet. And I want all my men ready. Winters’s punk ass is excused. I’m tired of GSI. I want them gone. Down. Finito. And if you want in on Kip Pearson,” he offered to Sugar, and she nodded. “Then maybe you’ll have to partner with Titan. Think you can handle more than just selling us our guns, baby cakes?”

  She scowled, probably at his calling her “baby cakes” in front of others. “As long as you promise me Kip, then count me in. Where’s Asal anyway?”

  Brock crackled into the headphones. “With a friend.”

  “She’s safe.” Jared wanted to reassure her and make her understand that he realized how important the kid was to her. The kid had given Sugar a knife, and on his list of things that earned points in his book, the kid had done her a solid, earning a lot of points.

  He ripped open his bar and finished it. Disgusting raisins. Sugar hadn’t touched hers. “You need to eat. Now.”

  “I will.”

  “My chopper, my rules. Open it. Finish it.”

  “Pushy bastard.”

  “You know it now, if you didn’t before. Eat.”

  She smirked at him, unwrapped it, and took a big bite. “Hate stupid raisins.”

  “No one likes raisins. That’s not the point.”

  Cash rummaged around. “I might have—”