Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redemption for Misty (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Pierce Securities Book 5) (2 page)

She laughed at the idea he didn’t want to work with his brother’s pin-up pictures and video games, faux leather furniture, and chrome-trimmed glass shelving and tables. She had moved into the quintessential bachelor pad. “Thanks. Knock yourself out.” She shook herself back to reality and turned to get his coffee. He did seem nice. Maybe she should reserve her pissed offness for Andrew and spare Chris her drama. When she turned with his coffee, she managed a deep breath. “Look. I’m sorry about last night. It’s not your fault my brother is an underhanded, overbearing jerk.” She held out her hand to shake. “Truce?”

He grinned at her, and Misty’s panties disintegrated. That’s how he got his nickname. Had to be. That fucking dimple. Those chiseled cheek bones. He could give Johnny Depp a run for his money—
21 Jump
Street
Depp, not
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Johnny. “Truce.” He returned the handshake, and it lingered longer than it needed to.

“So… what do you do?” She nodded at the laptop bag slung over his shoulder, feeling awkward. They were the only two people in the coffee shop, and he didn’t look like he was going to leave without a reason.

“Graphic design and digital storefronts. I make websites, help organizations get a visible web presence, logos… stuff like that.” Chris shrugged as he spoke, adjusting his laptop strap. He seemed to downplay his talents, relaxing against the counter.

Great. So he could feasibly be here all day every day Andrew was gone.
Well, that wouldn’t be all bad
, she thought as she perused his long, lanky frame. Chris looked powerful. Like cheetah power. Yeah, he moved with a grace born of athleticism and elegance, walking softly. She was sure it was misleading. Misty would bet the guy packed a big stick. The thought came from nowhere and she fought back a giggle.

“I really don’t need a babysitter,” she warned him, trying to gain some seriousness and get her mind off her errant thoughts.

“I know.” His words were flippant, but the way his eyes skated over the surface of everything around him spoke differently. “But I mean it. This place is comfortable. I like it.”

She watched as his graceful movements carried him to the corner of the shop, where he could see her and the door and look out the window if he wanted. Misty’s eyes rolled at him, but the bell clanged over the door, signaling another customer coming in. She focused on work, finding something else to occupy her.

Ghost strode in the door like he owned the place. He was a regular, having come in every morning for the last two weeks, and Misty liked him. She was reassured by his presence, like he was a stand-offish, over-protective uncle or something. She smiled and grabbed a cup off the shelf behind her.

“Your usual?” He nodded, straight-faced, and seated himself at the end of the bar, twisting the chair so he could see the entire shop.

She plunked the cup in front of him—filled with black house brew—and then leaned on her elbow over the countertop. “You’re just in town for business, right?”

He smiled at her around his sip. “I’m still not going to tell you, stinker.”

“A girl’s got to try,” she said flirtatiously. Ghost had been fun to try to get a rise out of. She guessed he was military, out of the base north of Austin, here on official military business. Older than Misty, he was still a hottie in a totally Gerard Butler sort of way. But he was sooo secretive. And his mannerisms mirrored Chris’s as they eyeballed each other, sizing up potential threats. She watched as Chris’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed in warning, and he finally nodded slightly to Ghost, as if he passed muster.

The bell over the door clanged again, and Misty smiled to herself as she helped the small line of customers. Chris kept up his seat in the corner, leaving only to get in line to get a refill. He waited patiently behind another regular.

Saul was a Frosty Mocha Latte, but he rarely spoke. She only knew his name because she had to call it when his drink order was ready. He always put two sugars in and would ask for whipped cream on Fridays. He was a youngish man, fastidious in his appearance, probably a lackey over at the capitol. But he never really spoke. When he looked at Misty, his cheeks got ruddy and his ears turned red.

This all happened again, today, and Misty noticed Chris watching the poor man closely as his mouth whitened in a thin line across the bottom of his face. As he set his empty cup down and asked for a refill, his eyes followed Saul as he settled himself on a stool at the counter, not too far away.

She had just finished refilling Chris’s coffee and was about to say something to him about giving the customers dirty looks when Mia and Jordan came into the shop with Evan and Ryan in tow.

“Your usuals?” Misty asked perkily after hugging her friend. Mia stepped behind the counter and put on her apron, then washed her hands to work, humming softly to herself.

Mia was Misty’s best friend. They had both survived at the hands of the same man, and then opened this shop together. Evan was Jordan’s brother and had been a silent partner in their coffee shop scheme. Misty suspected the dude had more money than God.

“Please,” Evan said with a wink.

Jordan and Ryan had been the ones who’d come to their rescue, running into Michael’s house where Misty had been left for dead in the garage under a pile of dirty clothes. They’d rushed in with grenades and smoke bombs and scared the hell out of everyone, but they’d done the job the cops hadn’t. She owed them both her life.

So she gave them free coffee and muffins forever.

The men of Pierce Securities were her heroes. All of them. And she was jealous as hell of Mia, who’d found her soul mate in Jordan.

Without Mia, Misty would have died in that pile of laundry on the floor. If Mia hadn’t been taken by that sicko, Jordan wouldn’t have been so hell-bent on finding them.

After they’d made the coffees and worked their way through the morning rush, Mia raised her eyebrows at Chris, still in the corner of the coffee shop.

“Who’s the hunk in the corner? You know him?”

Misty rolled her eyes for about the hundredth time that morning. “Yeah. That’s Chris. My new
handler
. He’s taking his job
very
seriously.” He must have heard her because when she turned, he was standing just across the counter, those blue eyes piercing her insides, catching something on fire in her belly.

He reached across the counter. “Chris Malone. It’s so nice to meet you, Mia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Andrew.”

Misty’s brother was another regular there; he would come in the mornings before he went to work at the survey office.

Mia thrust her hand out to grip his. “Thanks. Wish I could say the same, but I know nothing about you. How do you know Andrew?” Her intent was obvious—she was going to dig for info. Misty just walked away. Everybody tried so damn hard to shield her from harm, but she couldn’t say a word. If she hadn’t gotten into the situations she’d found herself in almost a year ago, people wouldn’t feel the need to be so protective.

As she listened to Chris explain the tours with her brother, and then their laughter about something she didn’t hear, Misty just rearranged muffins in the display case, then went into the back to wash up before the afternoon rush started.

She was trying really hard not to be mad at Chris. This wasn’t his doing. He was just doing what friends did. Stupid, alpha male friends.

Ugh.

The reality was, if Andrew would’ve included Misty in the plans for Chris to stay with her, she might not have been so mad about it. She didn’t particularly enjoy being alone anymore and welcomed company whenever she could get it. Therapy had helped her accept the presence of others, and she now liked having a crowd around her. All Andrew had to have done was ask her and she would have chosen the dark-haired, blue-eyed Adonis who was presently standing in her coffee shop flirting harmlessly with Mia.

But he hadn’t.  He’d taken the choice away from her and it pissed her off.

When she returned to the front of the shop, Chris was back in his corner, buried in his laptop, and Mia was tending another line of customers. Misty threw herself into making coffees, determined to forget about his piercing gaze.

Chapter three

A couple of days later, Chris was in the backyard, sweating his balls off mowing, while Misty was inside unloading groceries from a trip to the store she’d insisted on attending alone. Ever accommodating, Chris had come back to her house and started doing some yard work. That was part of the deal. He’d promised Crash he’d keep the yard maintained, and he was following the bastard’s written instructions, to the letter.

Even if he would much rather follow Misty to the grocery store like a puppy dog.

Chris was pushing the mower in precise, military lines across the grass, cutting off the top quarter inch—just like Crash had specified—in sweltering Texas heat. He’d already stripped off his shirt, and years of mowing had ingrained the need for jeans to protect his legs from flying debris, although he doubted Crash’s yard had anything as offensive as
rocks
in it.

When Misty stuck her head out the back door and yelled, he cut off the mower so he could hear her. But she’d stopped when she saw him and was just staring. Licking her lips.

Chris kept catching her watching him like that, and if it had been any other woman, he’d be all over it. Hell, he wasn’t about to lie and say he wouldn’t
like
to be all over this one. But she was Crash’s sister.

Instead, he played on it, because he
was
just a man. And men were needy creatures. Chris would be the first to admit he enjoyed a woman’s interest. Even if he couldn’t act on this particular woman’s attention.

“Did you need something?” He walked toward her, pulling the t-shirt out of his back pocket and swiping it across his chest, drawing her attention there. He wiped off the sweat, purposely keeping the movements slow, while her eyes tracked his hands like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. Misty gaped, and Chris couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

“Uh, yeah… Do you want to fire up the grill and cook these? I can do them on the stove, but they’re so much better on the grill. If you’re busy, I can do it, but Andrew usually doesn’t let me near his baby.”

She licked her lips again, still staring at his chest while she talked, and Chris almost said something but decided not to embarrass her.

“Sure, I’m almost done with the yard.” He set the bowl of shrimp next to the grill and got it started, then went back to mowing. Misty snapped her mouth shut and grinned at him.

“Thanks!” Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable. Her smile sucked the air right out of his lungs and sent his blood flow south. Every. Damn. Time.

Chris had plenty of time to think about Misty, and it seemed that was all he thought about lately. He’d always found her attractive, not that he would have ever admitted it to Crash. Especially not after Crash had clocked Ace for making a lewd comment about her. Chris had just held his tongue. But he’d commiserated with Crash when Misty had been kidnapped, and the entire company had wanted blood from her attacker. Chris had thrown the party when they’d found out she was safe and the guy had been killed.

When Chris had learned about their coffee shop—and how she used the proceeds to help other victims—another layer had been added to the package, and he’d admired her even more. She was smart and beautiful. Now that he lived with her, Chris could admit he was half in love with her.

He watched her carefully while she worked. Sure, he made logos, worked and shit while he was there, but her smile… Jesus… It did things to him. Nice things. He was on a constant lookout for another glimpse of it. She was friendly and warm to everybody she came in contact with. She cleaned up spills with a smile and gave out free treats to kids.

But she was still his buddy’s sister. They’d been through hell together, and he wouldn’t betray his friend by doing the things with Misty he dreamed of. Chris let out a tortured sigh as he laid the shrimp on the grill. Yeah, he would just have to keep his feelings to himself. No way would he jeopardize his friendship to try something with Misty. Knowing his luck, it wouldn’t work out, and he’d alienate his friend and end up without Misty anyway.

But when he went inside with the shrimp, he smelled something that had made his cock semi-hard since he was fifteen years old.

Baking apples.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the cinnamon spicy goodness, and walked into the kitchen. “Something smells great.”

Misty turned with that smile on her face, holding out a piece of flakey awesomeness for him to taste. “Thanks. Taste this and tell me what you think. I’m trying out a new apple strudel recipe for the shop.”

He held her wrist while opening his mouth, taking the bite she offered, careful to not get her fingers. Holy Christ, did he want to. He wanted to suck all the appley deliciousness off her and watch her lips part on a gasp, see the pulse in her neck start to pound, and then he’d do so much more. But he refrained.

Instead, the flavors detonated on his tongue in a myriad of happiness. “Oh my God. That is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Chris groaned, not only because it was, but because she’d reacted anyway. She blushed, a dark red he didn’t think would be possible with her skin tone, but she’d done it. And of course, his mind was making it dirty.