Hammer (27 page)

Now, Sophia Cole is thousands of miles away from the safety of her parents’ lavish estate and working alongside him in hell. She’s a staffer at an Embassy, and he’s there to keep them alive. There are bombs and bullets and blood-hungry enemies.

And then she’s taken. Gone. Just like his sister. But so much worse.

Excerpt:

She had met Javier in passing a couple times and knew that he had a bit of a wild reputation. But that was not the guy in front of her, sitting on the edge of the bed, hanging his head and holding the phone as if he’d just received bad news.

“Are you okay?” She wiped the corner of her mouth, sure there were icing smudges. He looked broken and alone, and she wondered how long he’d been there, lost in thought as night drifted by.

But he laughed, transforming whatever hung over him with a flash of his gorgeous smile. “Wow. Yeah. I’m okay.
How are you
?”

“I hate that question.”

“Why?”

“Does anyone ever answer it truthfully?”

His dark eyes tightened with the hint of acknowledgement, but it was the cut jawline and olive skin that made her take notice. “Answer truthfully. What do you have to lose?”

The accent and the low pitch of his voice urged her to trust him as though he were genuinely interested in whether she was okay, even if he didn’t know her from Adam. Her head tilted toward the dresser where she’d placed her post-reception creature-comfort plan. “I’m gorging on enough cake for four people and ready to cut off my dress and drink a bottle of champagne by myself.”

He laughed and tilted his head toward
his
champagne bottle on the nightstand. “Feel you on the bubbly.”

She smiled, taking a step closer. “So, you’re about okay as I am.”

His smile wavered but came back. “You’re day is worse than mine.”

Her eyes bounced to his opened bottle. “Good bubbly?”

He nodded. “Not bad.”

“Good. Think I’ll join you.” Sophia grabbed the scissors and the bottle, sawing at the foil. She could go into a war zone and covertly try to change the world, yet she had no flipping idea how to open a bottle of champagne. Her mother would have died. Surely that had been taught in a cotillion class or something. Or maybe not.

“Hey, hey, stop.” Javier stood from his perch on the bed. “You’re going to slit your wrist or lose a finger.” In a few strides, he took the bottle and blade, shaking his head. “Have you ever seen someone open champagne with scissors?”

Well, no. “That’s not why I brought them with me.”

He pulled off the foil and popped the cork, giving her a look before handing her back the bottle. “Drink the whole thing, and you’ll have a hell of a hangover.”

She shrugged. “I’m operating without a plan. We’ll see how the night goes.”

“No plan, no problem?” That accent was intoxicating, far more so than the pricey alcohol. “Doesn’t work like that.” His thick arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes were the deep color of coffee, and his hair was long enough she could have threaded her fingers into it, but not a strand was out of place. And the dress pants and a button-down shirt? Wow, the whole look fit in a way that made her delusional. “Are… you okay?”

“Um.” Shit. She was staring at the massive man, silently studying what proved God might’ve been a woman because to make a man that chiseled and perfect? Oh boy. Sophia was still staring. “Cake?”

He laughed quietly. “No, thanks.”

“You don’t eat cake?”

He gave a non-answer with a sight turn of his head.

“Then you should go.” She nodded, taking the scissors back from his hand. “I don’t trust people who won’t eat cake.”

“I eat cake, Sophia. I just… you obviously came up here to have some quiet, so I’ll go and let you have that.”

“You were up here first.”

His curious eyes narrowed. “But it’s your house.”

“Is it?” Sophia twirled, taking in a room she might not have been in before. All these rooms resembled the glossy photographs in
Southern Living
. They were beautiful but, in her opinion, lacked personalization. “Guess it is.” She stopped her slow spin and tugged at the dress that was still making her miserable. “You know what?”

An amused eyebrow rose. “Hm?”

Even his questioning noises oozed sensuality. It made her mind wander. If a simple question sounded like that, what would happen if he said it closer, quietly? Against her ear? Between her legs—wait, what? She snapped her head back, aware of the sexy, slippery slope she could go down and how her nipples seemed to have perked and jumped to attention already. She licked her lip, forgot anything about him being close or between
anywhere,
and focused back on their conversation.

“There’s—” Her voice cracked. “A very small contingent of people who’ve genuinely asked me if I’m okay. Colin probably being the most direct and most interested.”

Javier stood silently. His dark eyelashes fluttered. Maybe he was deciding how best to escape. Who cared if she’d just bared her soul to essentially a stranger? It was true that people’s reactions to her crisis said a lot about them—which she already knew—but she realized it was also telling how quickly she’d become interested in
another man
. Not that she was
interested
in Javier, just that it was
possible
to hear an accent and stare at the living definition of sex appeal and forget about one’s ex-fiancé. So. Very. Possible.

“Colin’s a good guy,” Javier offered.

“The best,” she agreed, her heart pattering a beat faster as he stepped, enacting his escape plan. Her chest panged for a nanosecond before she ignored the absurd reaction to his abandonment. But Javier’s next step came closer to Sophia, as though he waffled, not stalking directly toward to freedom.

As though maybe he felt what she felt: a seriously questionable, very uncertain desire to inch together. She felt an unexplainable spark that might’ve been more interesting than champagne and cake, the kind that could make heat bloom in her chest when it hadn’t flickered in a very long time.

“Oh boy.” But that couldn’t have been loud enough for him to hear, and she suddenly didn’t want him to leave. He’d quieted the buzz that she hadn’t realized had been ringing in her ears. Everything was quiet. Except her heart, which pounded in her lace-covered chest more than it had in years.

“So, are you?” he asked, scratching her with a tone that hit in all the right spots.

“Am
I
? What? Um…?” Her mind spun fast, trying to remember anything that might be conversationally appropriate.

His quiet laugh made her smile. “Are you
okay
, Sophia?”

Sophia
. Her name rolling off his tongue made shivers roll down her spine. She liked her name, but the way he said it made one word come alive. “I am right now.”

Their eyes locked. There were sparks; it wasn’t just her. The idea was absurd. This had to be some psychological coping mechanism, but every nerve in her body had awakened and tingled for her to touch him.

So… simple. Just a touch. Her palms on his cheeks. The pads of her fingers sweeping down his neck if she leaned in, and their lips—

“Good.” Javier nodded, breaking their connection.

Her cheeks heated, and where electricity had shot down her spine, now it was a one-sided sexual awareness. She’d had quite the day. Sophia pushed her shoulders back and tossed the scissors onto the bed, and Javier handed her the bottle of champagne.

She took it and the cake then sat on the edge of the elaborately covered queen-sized bed. Setting the plate down, she took a sip straight from the bottle, and the bubbles tickled her tongue and her nose, making her squeak out a laugh. “I’m gangster, right?”

“Total.”

His chuckle and smile made her take another sip again because she couldn’t quite look at him without broadcasting how attractive he was. Javier reached onto the bed, where he had abandoned his suit jacket.

She couldn’t help it; she offered again. “No cake? You’re sure?”

He returned the stare, eyes raking over her in a not-so-benign manner. It did amazing things for her insides. Wow. If she was going to marry someone, she should at least have felt a tenth of the excitement that Javier caused with a single smoldering look.

“Yeah. I’ll take a bite.” His large strides ate the space between them, giving her a show of just how powerful his thighs were. Before she could fathom cutting a piece off for him, he joined her on the edge of the bed, confidently picked up her fork, and took a man-sized bite.

Holy mother of snack shares—he used her fork. Who did that? Gah. That was a far cry from, basically, their first in-depth conversation.

He nodded his appreciation. “Good stuff.”

Javier speared another piece, and before she knew how to process his movements, the cake was pressed to her lips, and she ate the decidedly smaller bite. Which was just as good as the first tastes,
but he had fed
it to her, so it was infinitely better.

Nerves and nutso thoughts rambled in her head, and fortunately, she managed to mumble her thanks. Her insides were scattered, her mind numb. Had hottie Javier
just fed her cake
? Why yes, he had. Along with his accent replaying in her head, she could pretty much check off every fantasy she’d ever had. And he was still next to her.
Still
.

Holy shit, she needed that bubbly. Pronto.

They both reached for their matching bottles. Apparently, Javier needed his bubbly too. That made her smile, which made
him
smile. What a smile. What an amazingly dangerous smile…

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Whiskey Neat

By

Lani Lynn Vale

Copyright ©2016 Lani Lynn Vale

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Griffin Storm wasn’t prone to violence, but when someone takes what Griffin holds dear, the world as he knows it is gone.

Retaliation, revenge and rage fuels him. His MC, The Uncertain Saint’s, do their best to offer support, but Griffin is beyond redemption. He’ll do what he has to do. Kill who he has to kill.

He doesn’t care if that means he dies. If it gets him what he wants, then it’s worth it.

He fakes it all until the night he walks into a sex shop for batteries and lays eyes on a woman that will change his life.

Lenore makes him think past tomorrow. Makes him want to see just what the future might bring.

But his life’s a dangerous one built around pain and deception, and not for the faint of heart.

He won’t give up the past, not until he’s done what he promised to do.

And if that means she’s not there when the dust settles, he’ll risk it.

Lenore, though, won’t give up on him. She’ll fix him, whether he wants her to or not.

Excerpt:

“Come on, Doogan,” I urged, giving his collar a tug.

Doogan didn’t budge, which was why I had a front row seat as a man sailed over the railing of Mr. Marshall’s porch, and landed about ten feet away from where I was standing.

“Oh, my
God
,” I breathed.

I didn’t move, though, because the man was suddenly surrounded.

Men in leather were
everywhere
…but the one man that held my attention was stomping down the porch steps and heading straight to the man on the ground.

Griffin, the man who’d bought batteries from me just two days ago, was well and truly pissed.

When his eyes swung to me, I didn’t know what to do.

Should I run?

Stay where I was?

Question after question barreled through my mind, leaving me shaking in fear…and something else I wasn’t ready to admit to just yet.

“Go home,” he ordered.

I blinked, looking to my left and right to be sure he was talking to me.

Since I didn’t see anyone else around me, I decided he
was
talking to me, but I just couldn’t get my legs to cooperate out of fear.

Not to mention that I would have to walk through the lot of them to get to my house.

When I didn’t move fast enough, he issued the order again, only this time it was biting.

“Go. Home,” he snapped.

I turned on my heel and started walking, coming to a sudden stop when Doogan still refused to move.

“Mother of God,” I whispered. “Come on Doog,” I whispered frantically. “Let’s go.”

He did move, just not in the correct direction.

No, he walked straight up to Griffin and licked his hand, a hand that was stuck out, not in invitation to approach, but instead to stop the dog from getting too close to him.

“Can’t you control your fuckin’ dog?” He grated out angrily.

Tears were stinging my eyes, because, by that point, I had the attention of not just Griffin, but the whole freakin’ lot of them.

My heart was beating frantically in my chest as they watched me, and I just knew that if I didn’t get the hell out of there I’d get the hell beaten out of me…or worse.

“Where do you live?” Griffin asked, taking a hold of Doogan’s leash.

It slipped from my hands, and I watched in helpless horror as it did.

And what did Doogan do?

He freakin’ followed him!

“Umm,” I whispered. “Three duplexes down from here.”

“Be back,” Griffin said as he took my hand in his free one and started to walk me back to my house.

The men returned their stares on the man they were circling, and I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see one of the big ones kick the poor guy on the ground next to his feet.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.

I was too scared.

What if he beat the shit out of me?

Raped me?