Hero - The Ambush: Special Forces Romance
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H
ero
The Ambush
Hero Book 2
By M. S. Parker
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.
Book Description
Haze Welch used to serve his country in the Special Forces. Now he's relegated to babysitting spoiled heiress Leighton Machus, the party girl with whom Haze had a one-night stand four years ago. A one-night stand he hasn't been able to get out of his mind since. Despite her behavior, he can't help but think there's more to Leighton than what she portrays. And there's definitely more to the situation than meets the eye.
I couldn't get her out of my mind, but to save her life, I just might have to
.
With Leighton in danger, Haze must decide what's more important: his feelings, or her life.
Don't miss book 2 in HERO, the steamy second installment of MS Parker's first military series.
Chapter 1
Leighton
Admitting
that the tight pain in my head was more regret than a hangover did nothing to help it go away. I managed to make it upstairs to my room, but it still wasn't private enough. The space was too big, filled with too much. I went inside my walk-in closet and shut the door, leaving me in blissful near dark. One sparkling night light shone in the corner, leaving everything else in shadows. I leaned against the door.
The night came back to me in jagged pieces, some moments sharp enough to cut.
The challenge in Haze Welch's chocolate brown eyes was one of those. He was my bodyguard, no more than a hired babysitter, but he always seemed to be daring me to be something more than the spoiled LA heiress I was.
Aside from my little brother, Ian, Haze was the only man in my life who looked at me and saw potential. The unscripted stretch of what he thought was within my range scared me.
Last night, it had scared me right out to a party in the Hollywood hills where I played my old role to perfection. The memories from last night washed over me, some in fragments, some in images, but enough to put together a general picture of what happened. Some places were more detailed than others, but the story they told was undeniable.
“Leighton!”
“So glad you could come!”
“You look fantastic.”
The voices and faces all blurred together as soon as I entered the mansion.
I strolled into the party and owned every glance in the room. The attention centered on my flawless skin, the fire of my natural red hair, and the tight curves of my body made me feel invincible.
Then I noticed Ricky. My tall, suave, and only sometimes serious boyfriend looked as handsome as always. I loved that Ricky was also filthy rich, more spoiled than me, and he understood the life I lived. He was familiar and comfortable. Even knowing the open relationship he'd convinced me to have meant he'd be fucking pretty much everything in a skirt was predictable. He just wouldn't be making his usual poor attempts to hide his side pieces anymore.
Still, I was always number one with him, as sad as that is to admit. Case in point, as soon as he saw me, he dropped the pretty dress he was fondling and immediately came to my side. We made up, caught up, and started to party. The reunion should have made me happy, but all I could feel was Haze's eyes.
He watched me from the far wall, and I knew he was thinking that I should be better, that I could be better. He had no idea that this was it for me. Everyone in LA knew how much I was worth, and that was all that mattered. I'd never be anything more than an empty-headed heiress, and the best I could do was enjoy it and live up to my reputation. It was safer that way.
Then I saw Paris with Ricky, and all it took was a sideways glance between them for me to know that they'd slept together. Paris wanted everything, especially anything I had, and nothing stopped her from taking. She never missed an opportunity to flaunt it either. Now, all the words my best friend had used to comfort me choked any accusation of betrayal I wanted to throw at her.
That's when I started drinking. And dancing, the drink in my hand always refilled and sloshing. The lights flashed, the music pumped, and I moved my body like a weapon. I wanted to cut Paris down. Her good looks were nothing compared to mine. She was pretty in her own right with her dark brown waves and ice green eyes, but wasn’t memorable.
I wanted to make Ricky jealous. For all his philandering, he boiled over any time another man so much looked in my direction. It wasn't long before I succeeded and danced myself into a spinning world where I was the undisputed center of Ricky's attention.
The only thing I didn't count on was Haze. He stopped me on the dance floor, saw in one look what spurred me on, and tried to save me. My bodyguard pulled me from the vortex of the party and into the fresh, quiet air of the driveway. The touch of his hands, a concerned caress down my arms to steady me, tore away my hard shell, and left me vulnerable. Then he offered to take me home.
I kissed him.
We talked.
Then he kissed me and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him...
Remembering how Haze rejected me, how I'd immediately gone to Ricky to forget, I sunk to the closet floor and let tears spill over. The memory of Haze telling me that he remembered me, that he hadn't wanted to leave me four years ago, all of that only added to the pain of him breaking our kiss and saying he would take me home.
Memories turned into dreams. Dreams of what I wished had happened instead of what had been.
Haze kissed me back. My heart tightened at the realization. He wanted me. His lips seared across mine and burned away the drinks, the party, all of Los Angeles. It was just the two of us on a high hill overlooking an empty canyon. He lowered me to the soft, cool grass and I looked up to meet his eyes.
Part of me wanted to think that this wasn't how it happened, but another part told me to let it be. That this was what should have happened, how last night should have gone.
“Just let me love you.”
His voice made things low inside me twist, and I gave myself over to them, to him. I pulled him down to me. His lips met mine and electricity raced through me, igniting every nerve with something I'd never felt before. I felt his strong shoulders flex under my fingers, his wide hand sweeping down my side to my bare thigh. I arched up against him, a moan escaping my lips. He swallowed it down, his teeth scraping my bottom lip. His fingers were rough, but his touch was so light that it teased me to a shivering frenzy, wanting him to hold me, harder, closer.
“I've got you,” he murmured against my mouth as he slid inside me.
I cried out, pressing my face to his neck to stifle the sound. It was too much, too intense, too everything. And it was what I wanted, what I needed. Without missing a stroke, he reached down and tipped my head up so that our eyes met.
He saw me. Saw me for who I really was and not for who everyone else thought I was, or thought I should be. I was enough for him, just as I was, and he only wanted me to be better because he knew that the mask I wore wasn't real.
And he didn't want the mask. He wanted me. The real me, with all my flaws and imperfections.
We came together, his hard body filling my every curve. He thrust deeper, keeping our eyes locked as we crashed over our climax together.
I jerked away as my body pulsed in response to my dream and I groaned, partially because such a good dream had been interrupted, but also because I knew I’d have to face the stupid decisions I'd made last night.
And they were all mine. I'd been a bit drunk, but not so much that I hadn't known what I was doing. I had a bad feeling that Haze knew that too, even though he'd told me that I was drunk when I kissed him.
“Fuck,” I swore quietly.
I'd kissed Haze and then let Ricky fuck me while Haze was right outside the door. And I knew he'd been there the whole time too. He'd probably heard...I swore again. I didn't even want to think about what he heard. Except I knew I'd have to eventually.
Unless what I'd done had been enough to push him over the edge.
When I'd first heard that my grandfather had hired a bodyguard for me, I'd been furious, fully intending to drive him away. Even after I'd seen who it was, I'd meant to keep to my plan.
I should've been happy that I'd succeeded, that Haze was probably with my grandfather right now, quitting.
But I wasn't happy. I didn't want him to go. The very thought of never seeing him again tied my stomach in knots.
What had I done?
Chapter 2
Haze
The
threatening letters sat on Devlin Pope's desk, innocuous-looking until one read what they said. Now I could only see a threat. As much as I wanted to quit, I couldn't leave now. Not with this...I couldn't think of a word to describe him. Creep. Bastard. Asshole. Pervert. All of the terms were accurate, but none strong enough. One thing was for sure though.
This guy was dangerous.
I'd read all of the letters twice, letting the shock of each one sink in with the first reading, then analyzing the second time through. I hadn't been military intelligence, but I'd studied enough psychology on my own to have a pretty good idea of what sort of threat we were facing. And there was no doubt in my mind that he was a threat.
The anonymous sender grew more vehement and dangerous with each subsequent letter. All of them listed dates, times, locations, and personal details about Leighton Machus. Some details were ones that weren't readily available to the public, which meant we either had a very skilled hacker – or at least someone with access to one – or there was a leak from the inside. Either way, it meant that Leighton was in real danger. Not paparazzi getting inappropriate pictures danger, but her actual safety was at risk.
“I've kept this from the police because, when it comes to stalking, they can't always do anything, and just their involvement can set some of these people off,” Devlin explained. He looked tired, and not in a too-much-work kind of way. “I did, however, have a friend of mine do a full forensics work up on it. The letters are clean, not a trace.”
I didn't even bother to ask how Devlin knew someone who was able to do a full forensic work-up without letting the cops know. Leighton's grandfather had worked his ass off from a young age, making millions – maybe billions – in a city that crushed dreamers every day. He'd not only made it, he'd become one of the biggest non-celebrity names in the city. Even now, in his late sixties, he continued to be involved in a lot of the day-to-day dealings of his largest radio station and his most profitable production company. I was pretty sure retirement wasn't in his vocabulary.
I selected five of the newest letters and reread them. The sender made sure to say what Leighton wore, how her hair was styled, and even what mood she appeared to be in at each point he references. The realization that he was watching her so closely made my stomach churn.
“You don't happen to have a profiler on your roster of buddies, do you?” I asked.
Devlin sat down in his heavy leather desk chair. I was pretty sure it was the first time I'd ever seen the man sit outside of meals. His bright blue eyes, so like the laser blue of Leighton's gaze, wavered for a moment. I shifted and cleared my throat, my eyes darting away as I collected myself.
