Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(49)
And as she pulled him down to receive her kiss, Joe realized he’d finally kept the promise he’d made to her over two years ago on that sun-drenched autumn afternoon before his deployment when they’d tearfully clung to one another, reluctant to part, too afraid to confess the truth in their hearts.
He’d come home.
Home to Sadie’s arms and to the love that had always been his beacon of light in the darkness. And no matter what the future might hold for them, Joe knew that it was her love that would sustain him, keep him true, and always—always—guide him home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate SeRine (pronounced “serene”) has been telling stories since before she could hold a pen. When she’s not writing, you’ll find Kate watching low-budget horror movies or geeking out over pretty much any movie adaptation of a comic book. As long as action and suspense are involved, she’s in!
Kate lives in a smallish, quintessentially Midwestern town with her husband and two sons, who share her love of storytelling. She never tires of creating new worlds to share and is even now working on her next project—probably while consuming way too much coffee.
Connect with Kate at www.kateserine.com, Facebook.com/kateserine, or on Twitter @KateSeRine.
WAR GAMES
An Endgame Ops Novella
LEA GRIFFITH
CHAPTER 1
2100 hours, January 15, 2011
Anthony “Rook” Granger was a big dude. From the top of his shorn head to the bottom of his…well, his foot and blade prosthesis, he was one of the largest men she’d ever encountered. And that was sitting down. If he were standing, he’d tower over her by at least a foot, maybe more. His shoulders were broad, looking like they could carry the weight of the world and not falter. The hands he fisted on his muscled thighs clenched and unclenched, a warning in the gesture.
Vivi shivered. A steel door clanged shut behind her. One more cage door to go, and she’d be in the same room with him. His only visitor in three months. The man had been in solitary confinement since his sentencing, not allowed even a meeting with his lawyers. He’d been moved into this holding wing of the prison on orders from Brigadier General Kennedy Johansen of the U.S. Joint Special Operations Command.
The guard escorting her turned as they came to the door and smirked. “Wonder what kind of strings you pulled for this?”
Vivi arched a single brow and narrowed her gaze on the man. “We don’t have to talk for you to do your job, do we?”
His face went red, but he caught himself before he popped off in anger. “Turn around, please.” He may have said please, but it was an order nonetheless.
Vivi bristled and shoved the phone she’d been allowed to keep in her pocket. The phone was a concession, much like this meeting in the first place. Vivi had most definitely pulled strings, but so had the brigadier general.
The guard huffed. “Today?”
Her jaw tightened, but she turned, raising her arms and preparing for the feel of his hands on her body. She was glad she’d worn pants. God knows the bastard might have tried to cop a feel between her legs if she’d worn a skirt. As it was, he lingered too damn long.
The sound of metal sliding against concrete invaded the silence. Vivi turned her head toward the noise. Her quarry had wrapped his hands around the chains tethering him to the floor, knuckles bleeding to white at the grip he had on them.
His head was bowed, gaze on the floor beneath the metal folding chair he sat on. His stillness made goose bumps dance along her skin. He knew everything going on around him. No doubt about it.
She glared over her shoulder at the guard. “If you touch me there once more, I’m going to rip your arms off and beat you with them.”
The guard laughed but removed his hands from her ass. “I’d like to see you try, little girl.”
Vivi ignored him. She had no choice because the man she’d come to see, Prisoner R5762, the infamous Sergeant First Class Rook Granger, raised his head, narrowing his gaze on the guard’s hands, jaw clenching.
Vivi inhaled sharply. She had no frame of reference to compare the beauty of Rook’s face. The symmetry of his broad forehead, high cheekbones, and square jaw was breathtaking. His eyebrows were wide swaths of ebony against the bronze of his skin. The bridge of his nose was slightly crooked but did nothing to detract from the otherwise striking canvas of his features. His lower lip was fuller than the top, but the curve of his mouth gave him a mocking, almost rakish appearance. It actually took that face from beautiful to downright sinful.
But it was his eyes that took her breath, hell, her mind, away and replaced them with an emotion so foreign to Vivi she couldn’t name it. Coal black, bright with malice but shadowed with secrets, his gaze was both a silken caress and the burning promise of retribution.
His stare unsettled her so much that she simply stood there for several seconds, unaware of her surroundings. The guard pushed her forward and she stumbled, righting herself before she sprawled face-first into the cell. The chains rattled again, and malevolence poured off Rook.
Honor, her brother had said as he lay dying in the hospital. Rook Granger had more honor in a single breath than most men could claim their entire life.
Yet here he was—a prisoner of the U.S. Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Honorable men didn’t go to prison, did they?