Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(66)
She nodded solemnly.
He pushed down his panic, let the fear grab him by the throat, and relaxed. Then he walked them to the bedroom, laid her on the bed, pulled their sweats off, and proceeded to make love to her every way he knew how.
When morning came, he checked in at Port Royal and helped her pack her clothes and her cat.
“This is it, Vivi,” he said as he kissed the tip of her nose.
“All in,” she said with a bright smile.
“Let’s do this,” he said, taking her hand, picking up her cat’s crate and heading out the door.
He had no idea what they were entering into, but he’d keep his woman safe. He’d give everything he was to keep her safe. She glanced back at him as she got in the waiting vehicle and he saw it in her gaze.
She would follow him into hell and hold his hand while they burned together. What she didn’t understand yet was that he’d protect her with his dying breath.
No half measures. All in.
Hooah.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lea Griffith began sneaking to read her mother’s romance novels at a young age. She cut her teeth on the greats: McNaught, Woodiwiss, and Garwood. She still consumes every romance book she can put her hands on, but now she writes her own.
Lea lives in rural Georgia (GO DAWGS!) with her husband, three teenage daughters, two dogs, three cats, and a betta fish named Coddy George. If she isn’t running her teenagers hither and yon, you’ll find her at her keyboard giving life to the stories in her mind. She loves all genres of romance, and nothing is off-limits when it comes to her muse. For more information, please visit www.leagriffith.com or follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LeaGriffithWrites and/or Twitter @LeaGriffith.
BEAUTY AND THE MARINE
TINA WAINSCOTT
CHAPTER 1
The beast was about to meet beauty. That’s how Griff Tate saw it, anyway. And not just a pretty lady but a freakin’ model. The only people who saw his scarred face were his family and the hunting or fishing parties he took out on Tate acreage. Many were vets like him who didn’t flinch at his war wounds.
Griff opened the fridge in the guest lounge, known as the “Mud Room,” and poured a glass of iced tea. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, the only noise besides the country song playing on the intercom system. The entire two hundred acres of his family’s property had been reserved for this special op, so the footsteps had to belong to Chase Justiss.
Griff leaned into the hallway and greeted the man he’d only met twice before. While recovering in the hospital, Chase had offered him a job with his so-called private security agency. Griff had respectfully declined, wondering why Chase wanted to hire a man who might scare small children. Or pretty women. Didn’t matter. Griff had already decided on holing up at his family’s “resort,” offering skills he’d been honing since he was knee-high to a mudbug. Then, last week, Chase had called him again, remembering the particulars about Griff’s remote sanctuary. For this op, MUD’N HUNT, unofficially dubbed the “Redneck Playground,” was the ideal locale. So were Griff’s qualifications to instruct on hunting and handfishing.
Chase, in his linen slacks and expensive dress shirt, could have passed for a movie star. He held himself with the kind of confidence Griff once possessed.
Chase pumped Griff’s hand. “Good to see you, my friend. Looks like we’re all set.”
“Yep. Most of my family headed down to Disney World.” Even though this part of the op wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, Chase didn’t want to take any chances. “They sure appreciated the free vacation playing in the civilized world, as they call it. My cousin and uncle are on call to help as needed.”
“I’m happy to give them a break.” Chase gestured behind him. “The film crew is in the parking area, and two of my J-Men—my operatives—are doing recon. Risk and Julian brought their fiancées, capable women who will play the models competing with Kristy.”
Kristy…the beauty. And the reason for this op. The Atlanta-bred model had drawn the attention of a vicious stalker whom the police were unable to identify.
Griff had signed on without hesitation when Chase told him why he wanted to rent the property: to stage a phony “reality” show about models competing to be the best redneck chick in order to lure the stalker. Griff acting as Kristy’s on-camera guide, now that had taken some convincing.
“You ready to rock and roll?” Chase asked.
“Oorah,” Griff said, what his Marine comrades shouted before heading out on a mission.
A memory of their faces flashed in his head, their cocky smiles after a dirty joke shared in the Humvee. Right before the explosion…
“You all right?” Chase asked, the man’s eyes assessing him.
Note to self: do not use military jargon. You’re not in the military anymore.
Griff gave a stiff nod. “I’m aces.”
Chase clapped him on the back as they headed toward the front door. “There won’t be any danger while you’re in the scene. No one knows where we are or what we’re doing except for a couple key Atlanta Police personnel. They’ll come in once we’ve released the commercials, and you’ll be long gone by then.”