A peek at Book 5, Connor, In the Company of Snipers

PROLOGUE

“Damn it.”

USMC Sergeant Isabella Ramos cursed as her ammo clip hit the dirt on the other side of the wall. Sergeant Connor Maher could not help but notice. He didn’t write the rules of nature. A real man’s always gonna look, and this particular gal’s derrière, albeit camouflaged in the uniform of the day and plenty of dust, made for a choice view. What red-blooded, all American male wouldn’t?

One minute she was seated all nice and comfortable on that three-foot wall. The next, she was bent over it, damn near ass over teakettles with her boots, legs and butt on display. He glanced away, not wanting to be caught looking—at least not by her.

He and his buddy, Jamie, were part of the United State’s military response to the increased violence of the Iraqi insurgency in Fallujah. Both short timers and counting the days, this was their final tour together unless Jamie got another brilliant idea to re-up. With home only a couple months away, Connor was antsy. All he had to do was stay alive. In Iraq. During one of the hottest USMC campaigns of the war. Stolen commercial breaks like this show with Ramos made the grind endurable.

She’d gotten the short end of the stick when their commanding officer decided someone ought to show the two newly arrived non-commissioned officers the lay of the land, and voilà. Just like that, they got a snappy tour of U.S. Camp Baharia and along with it, a floorshow that couldn’t be beat.

The good thing about the predominantly USMC camp was the large clear water lake in the center of it. The bad thing was it was still in Iraq. The once-upon-a-time desert resort town was now filled with hard-core military men and women who sometimes forgot how to behave. Like Lance Corporal Jamie Ramos, who by sheer coincidence shared the sergeant’s last name, but obviously, not her dedication to the Corps.

Already passed over once for promotion, Jamie was headed for trouble with his CO. He didn’t seem to have a problem with his rifle qualification or combat fitness, but his true talents lay in another direction—entertainment. Jamie was a tease to the mathematical power of a gazillion, and that innate need for attention would land him in the brig one of these days.

“You know you want to.” He elbowed Connor again, urging him to do the unthinkable. “Just one little smack. It’s easy. I’ve done it a million times. No one else will see you. Just walk over, lay one on her ass and run like hell. She’s short. She’ll never catch you. Go on. Do it.”

“Shut up,” Connor muttered out of the corner of his mouth, glancing again at the ass in question and doubting the ‘I’ve done it a million times’ line. “You know better than to treat women like that. Knock it off.”

“What’s she gonna do? You’re both the same rank,” Jamie persisted. “It’ll be fun.”

“Cut the crap. She’s a lady.”

“No, she ain’t. She’s a jarhead just like us. She’s GI. Loosen up, Maher. Walk on the wild side for once in your geeky life.”

Connor glanced at the ass in question again. Damn. It was spank-a-licious and hard to keep his eyes off of. This dark-haired and olive-skinned beauty had potential in his book. Lots of potential. He didn’t want Jamie’s crazy antics to blow his chances before he knew if he had any.

Raised in a house filled with six younger brothers and no sisters, women still perplexed Connor. Sometimes they loved a guy who only two seconds earlier they’d hated. He couldn’t keep up. 

Besides, his mother had taught him early what Jamie’s education must have missed. A real man does not disrespect women, even when they cussed like sailors. He’d grown to appreciate Bridgette Maher’s wise sayings more now that he was out of her house. Treat a woman like a lady and she’ll never turn into a nag.

With a twinkle in his eye, Jamie edged closer to the irritated sergeant’s backside, a big cheesy smirk on his trouble-making face. She tipped farther over the wall, the toes of her boots nearly off the ground and still cussing a blue streak. No way was Connor getting close to that action. He shook his head and mouthed a definite, No. Don’t do it.

Jamie’s eyes brightened with, Are you daring me, man?

Connor didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head. Either way spelled trouble.

Jamie’s left eyebrow spiked into an incredibly wicked, Here goes. His arm lifted higher.

Connor shook his head, disgusted for letting Jamie take a prank this far. He stepped forward to halt the wise guy before things got anymore out of hand. Retrieving the clip in question would solve the Sergeant’s problem and torpedo Jamie’s stand-up comedy once and for all.

“Excuse me, ma’am—”

Jamie’s perfectly white teeth flashed a big shitty grin. His flattened hand lifted over the rump in question.

Apparently, Ramos hadn’t heard Connor yet, leaning over the wall like she was. He was nearly behind her. “Ma’am, let me get that for—”

The sergeant tipped one booted foot to the sky and exclaimed, “Finally. Got the damned thing.”

SMACK!

Crap. Sergeant Ramos came off that wall so fast she landed in Connor’s arms. The deadly scopes of a deadly sniper skewered her one man viewing audience.

Oh, sweet Mother Mary and Joseph.

He gulped and caught a peripheral of his trouble-making buddy. Jamie was on his knees. At the end of wall. Out of sight. Clear out of sight.

Ramos could only see—him.

Those sizzling brown windows to a she-devil’s soul were pointed straight up at—him.

Crap. I’ll be busted back to private first class.

He should’ve pushed off. He should’ve been a gentleman and apologized for the inappropriate contact. He should’ve done anything, but no. Generations of hopeless romantics from the Emerald Isle had led him to this pivotal moment. His fingers refused to unclench from her biceps. Looking down into two dark pools of what felt like the strongest, bitterest, sweetest coffee, Connor was doing good just to keep breathing.

Hot damn. If I’m dying, it’s gonna hurt, but I’m going to heaven.

Equal rank or not, something about this diminutive spitfire had stomped the hell out of his ego from the first moment he’d seen her. With the meanest reputation in the squad, she could teach the drill sergeant’s How to Be an SOB class all by herself. Ramos was a cherry bomb with a short fuse and right now, he was cannon fodder. Nothing but.

“You want to die right here and now, Boston?” she hissed, her shoulders rolling along with her swagger. How could a gal with such sexy brown eyes be so mean and sound so tough? His eyes refused to move off of her, even though her top lip was curled over a wicked Devil Dog bite.

And here he was holding her. Not just holding her, but chest to breast kind of holding her, and either she didn’t mind the contact or he was in for one helluva lesson in smack down, hand-to-hand combat. The woman was pure muscle, her biceps as hard as her eyes. Contempt glittered there, and just maybe something else. Mischief?

“Ahh, no, sir – I mean—no, ma’am—I mean—” He dropped his hands and took a full step back to get out of her personal space, stuttering like an idiot.

Jamie was still crouched with his hand clamped over his big fat mouth he was laughing so hard. Right then and there, Connor should’ve handed his buddy over, but real men don’t do that either.

Ramos stomped right back under Connor’s chin, her eyes dark and deadly, full of the promise of nothing but pain. Maybe death. “You think hitting another soldier’s ass is funny, do you?”

“No, ma’am, I do not.”

God, she was so damned gorgeous. Yeah, she radiated a certain amount of radioactive hostility, and he was pretty sure he glowed already, but damn. What a package. His nose filled with the lovely whiff of roses and incense. How fitting. The sweetness of flowers mingled with the unmistakable hint of burning ash. He’d been an alter boy. He ought to know.

That drab green T-shirt peeking up from her uniform didn’t conceal the rounded landscape beneath from a man of his height, either. Six-foot-three should be the one doing the intimidating instead of peering down a woman’s shirt like he was. The thought of peeling her out of those desert cammies tweaked what was left of his common sense. He wanted to touch. Hell, he wanted to fondle, pet, and a whole lot more.

Should I pour on the Maher charm?

Sizzling death glowered up at him, not even blinking once and full on daring him to keep breathing.

Ah, maybe not.

The verbal assault commenced. “I’m gonna make you wish you died during boot camp, you pig-faced, camel-lipped, piece of...”

On and on she went. He took it like a man. Almost. His jaw kept moving, but sound had ceased coming out. Article 128 of the United States Code of Military Justice flashed through his blood-deprived brain.

Question: Is a slap on the butt considered sexual battery?

Answer: Damn straight. Don’t touch. Don’t tell. And all that stuff.

Jamie howled, at last overcome by his own hysterics.

Ramos shot a scorching look over her shoulder. “You!”

The instant she looked way, the magic faded. Connor was half-inclined to cup her chin and direct her gaze back to him. Just him. Not Jamie. But he was afraid to touch her. She might be too hot for him to handle.

“Why don’t you grow up?” Kicking a boot scrape of sand in Jamie’s face, she stalked off, which only made him laugh harder. The dumb ass looked like he was having a heart attack the way his face was all screwed up.

Oddly, Connor felt a chill when Sergeant Ramos left. A chill in Iraq? How’d that work? He watched her walk away, her dark brown ponytail twitching side to side in time with her butt, both sassy as hell. Taking one step forward to follow and apologize, he came to his senses and stopped short. Not now. Let her cool off. Mad women were unpredictable.

“You shoulda... You shoulda....” Still laughing his guts out, tears streamed over Jamie’s cheeks. “I mean it. You shoulda seen the look on your face!”

“You could get me court-martialed,” Connor ground out, even as his gaze returned to the command tent where Ramos had gone. He wasn’t so much scared as interested. Maybe it was all those blond brothers he’d grown up with, but dark-eyed girls always caught his attention. Hers seemed darker than most, full of sparks, promise, and a whopping dose of cayenne. The moment he’d seen her, he knew. They would spend time together.

“Oh, hell.” Jamie pulled himself onto the wall, dusting his pants off. “Don’t worry. She won’t do anything. You’re safe.”

“Yeah, right.” Connor huffed out an aggravated sigh. “You ever heard of friendly fire? She was an MP sniper, jerk-off. Now I gotta watch my back the rest of my rotation.”

Jamie guffawed through another laughing attack. Connor had half a mind to kick his friend’s ass if it would douse the hysterics, but he doubted it would. Jamie was a fun-loving, risk-taking Hispanic who could charm the socks off most ladies. Didn’t seem to have any effect on the sergeant, though.

Finally, he turned semi-serious. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your six. You know that, Bro.”

“Bullshit, you do,” Connor shot back at him. “You’ve got nothing.”

“No, really. I’ve seen how you look at her.” Jamie almost sounded sincere. “Listen, Connor. Remember how I told you I’d never seen her before in my life, how lots of us Hispanics got the same last names only it don’t mean we’re related? You know, like Martinez, Gonzales, Sanchez, Moreno, Garcia?”

“So what?” Connor could feel it coming. The joke wasn’t over yet.

Jamie winked. “I lied. That’s Izza. My sister.”

Harley, In the Company of Snipers, #4

Harley is in the last round of edits and giving me the evil eye.

The man needs to be published, so….

It's time for a hint of things to come.

Thunder shook the ground. Shrapnel and bullets pinged too close and personal, pushing him to act. So that’s the way it was, under fire and his men forced to leave him behind. He was alone. Instinct kicked in. Training took over.

Move it, soldier. Move it. Move it. Move it!

He steeled his jaw, stiffened his spine and secured his belt around his own bleeding leg, padding it with a rag from the dirty ground. The chemicals in the smoke provided an acid eyewash that would not quit. He could barely see to stagger away. His feet would not follow. No matter. He carved a drunkard’s path into the desert and away from hell. One more step. Then another. Time and distance. All he needed now. Three things were sure. He wouldn’t be taken alive. He’d live to fight another day. And he’d catch up with his men.

Keep moving!

Confusion and guilt ruled the day. It sure looked like his men were dead back there. He was sure they’d begged for help. But then they were gone. That meant they were alive, that they walked away. Didn’t it? Parts felt real.

Parts did not. Like that detached hand. How could those fingers tap like they were attached to Kent when they weren’t? Harley collapsed against a wall. Scrubbing the pain away, he tried desperately to remember or forget. The puzzle remained. Hadn’t he seen this same damned movie before?

Shreds of bizarre nonsense swirled inside his tired skull.

“Nine o’clock team meeting, don’t be—”

“Your favorite peppered shrimp—”

“Mark’s baby girl... JayJay... looks like—”

“Judy.”

The last word, that name tugged at his weary mind for further scrutiny. It meant something. He could tell. It was a pleasant name. Like the piercing beam of a lighthouse cast high above the pitch-black storm in his head, it called

to him. ‘Look at me. Remember me.’

Harley sucked in another breath of desert air, his soul whipped and beaten by the war. Who the hell is Judy?

Look for him early September at Amazon.com, paperback and kindle ebook!

Announcing Harley!

What is not to like about this guy?

Release September 2014

Amazon and kindle only

My man Harley is a flirt and a tease...

So here's a tease for my favorite fans…

For a split second, Judy wavered, the sight of him dripping wet and aroused more temptation than she’d anticipated. The steamy bathroom was no help. Primal attraction crackled between them. She licked her lips, her body ready and willing to comply. Harley held out his hand in invitation. Despite the emergency call from the hospital which she ought to be responding to, she’d thought of joining him in the shower right then and there.

“You going or coming, darlin’?” he’d asked, a sexy smirk tweaking his lips and the innuendo unmistakable. He looked so damn irresistible with water dripping off his chin. The brat. How could he tempt her like that when she had to be on the ER floor in less than twenty minutes? And dressed.

“Join me,” he coaxed, the deep rumble vibrating from him and through her through his fingertips. “Come on in. The water’s almost as hot as you.”

“I can’t,” she whispered even as she leaned in. Her feet might have been firmly planted on dry ground, but her common sense was already stripped bare and pounding out a happy dance.

“Sure you can.” He reached a gentle hand for the back of her neck, and took a step forward, his head lowered for a hello darlin’ kiss.

Is Harley hot or what?

Not sure? Just wait.

He'll be on Amazon in September

Then you'll know….

Zack is on his way!

Here's an insight into the next sexy hero on The TEAM.
Release date is May 1st.

Damn. Who’s singing in my shower?

Zack Lennox peeled a bleary eye open. Had to be Jake. Only he could get away with singing this early and make it sound good - well, halfway good. The problem was not the pitch or tune, but the depression. The man was good, but he could turn You Are My Sunshine into a dirge.

Today was no different. Zack recognized the words to one of the heartrending scores from Les Mis. He laid there, his arm over his face to block the early morning light. If only it blocked the song. One hurt his eyes, the other his heart. Yeah. The anguish of every man who’d ever been deployed echoed through those pleading lyrics. Bring Him Home.

Singing was how Jake vented his heartache. He’d come home messed up from his last tour in Iraq, not able to go back to what Americans who’d never been to war called a ‘normal life.’ Most people didn’t realize ‘normal’ was not an option once a man had been to Hell. Movies and television made ’em look like heroes, but Zack knew better. They were all messed up. Some just hid it better.

The man in the shower roared the last words of the tragic, hopeful song.

Zack growled. Give me a break.

“Hmmm.” A woman’s throaty moan sounded a little too close for comfort. He glanced to his left as a feminine ass plastered itself against his naked thigh. Time to move. He had to get to work, and Jake had to stop singing. Still... that feminine backside was warm and soft. He hesitated. It was early enough. He might have just enough time to—

No. Making love to a sound-asleep woman was not in the cards today. No way. No how. He eased away from... Who was she, anyway? Leaning over her shoulder he brushed the brassy curls aside. Oh. Carol. Good to know. Alcohol might dim a man’s senses the night before, but they’d better be sharp when ‘good morning, umm, whoever-you-are’ rolled around.

She didn’t wake up when he leveled his weight off the bed. He stood and looked for his briefs in the dim bedroom light. Not finding them, he opted for a naked stroll to his guest bathroom. After all, it was only Jake in there.

Traipsing down the hall, he stepped over the debris from a damned good time with, by the looks of his place, a lot of friends. Beer and wine bottles littered the living room floor. Cardboard pizza boxes with sauce and cheese wagon-wheel imprints lay discarded on the coffee table where the festivities had begun. He kicked a red and grey hoody he didn’t recognize as he shuffled his way to the coffee maker. What he needed now was hot, black, and strong enough to kick-start the week. A maple-glazed donut wouldn’t hurt, either.

The first verse of Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall pealed forth from the bathroom. Zack dumped in the two scoops of Kona’s best, filled the coffee maker with enough water, turned it to brew, and headed for the first and last verse of the too-loud drinking song. Jake had to be stopped. That’s all there was to it.

Billowing steam poured from the bathroom door as soon as he cracked it open. The song ceased. He snagged a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

“That you?” a tremulous voice asked.

“You’re bellowing loud enough to wake the dead.” Zack swiped a hand over the fogged-up mirror.

“Yeah, well.” Jake didn’t finish. He always sang when he was depressed, and he was always depressed. All his friends knew that.

“Coffee’s on.”

“Thanks. You going in today?”

Zack grunted around the toothbrush in his mouth. “It’s Monday, isn’t it?”

“Thought maybe you could take a day. Maybe we could hang out.” The shower stopped.

“Not going to happen. One of us needs to work.”

“Yeah, well.” Jake’s favorite words when faced with reality.

Zack didn’t mind. They’d been friends long before the war messed in Jake’s head. He wasn’t going to turn his back on his buddy now. “Need a favor, though.”

“Like?” Jake stepped one foot out of the shower, rubbing a towel over his too-skinny body. He didn’t do drugs, Zack was sure of that, but living on the streets was hard on a man. The hot shower had to feel good. He didn’t get one often enough.

“Like I need you to make sure my friend, Carol, finds her clothes and makes it to her car some time today. She’s still buzzed. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure. Did all the pizza get eaten?”

“Don’t know, but there’s a box of breakfast biscuits in the freezer. You know how to work the microwave.”

Jake wrapped the towel at his waist. “You got a clean shirt around here?”

“Hanging in my closet. Help yourself.” Zack smoothed a layer of shaving gel over his head and around his chin. The mirror kept fogging up. He swiped it clean again before taking the blade to his three-day’s growth.

“Remember the time you woke up with two chicks in your bed?” Jake made himself comfortable on the closed toilet seat, his knobby knees bouncing with his usual hyperactivity. “That was funny.”

“Not my brightest idea.” Zack focused on not nicking himself. Stupid things like two hot babes in the same bed caused three times the trouble the next day when he had to tell them he wasn’t that kind of interested. He’d made it rule number one to never be that kind of dumb again.

“What’s on your docket today?” Zack waited for his buddy to answer. It was a stupid question. A homeless man didn’t have a docket.

Jake stilled. “Nuthin’.”

“If you’ve got time, I could use a little help. Remember Lillian?”

“Oh. Her.” Yeah. Of course, Jake would remember. She lived two doors down in Zack’s singles-only gated community, and she was hot for Jake. Neither of them knew why. Lillian was high-end merchandise; Jake wasn’t even in the mall. It had to be the whole opposites attract thing.

“Relax. She’s been in Hawaii. She spends every September there. I’m supposed to pick up Tiki from the vet. They’ve been boarding her until—”

“Lillian’s coming home today, isn’t she? You want me to take her dog to her.” Jake sounded accusatory. He had a soft spot for the prissy poodle, not the owner.

“Relax. Just get Tiki from the vet and kennel her in Lillian’s backyard. It will give you a chance to play with the mutt. You don’t have to hang around unless you want to.”

“She’s not a mutt. When’s Lillian getting in?”

“Six p.m.” Zack wiped a hot washcloth over his head. Women liked his shaved skull look. Who was he to argue? “Don’t worry. You can be out of there before she gets home.”

He eyed his friend. A bossy woman like Lillian might actually do Jake some good, but Zack was no matchmaker, another line he did not cross. If a man was going to make a mistake with a woman, well, rule number two came into play. Never stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Folks get to screw up their own lives.

“Sure. I’ll get Tiki. She’s smart.”

“I’ve got to get moving.” Zack glanced at his friend. “You’re welcome to stay, but I might be gone awhile. Keep the place halfway clean, will ya? Lock up when you leave.”

“How long?”

Zack slung his towel over the shower door before stepping inside. “Don’t know. It’s a combined effort with a lot of feds – DEA, FBI, ATF, and a few others.”

“’Kay,” Jake muttered on his way out of the bathroom.

Zack lingered in the shower as long as he dared, which wasn’t long. After a quick toweling, he paused to look in the mirror, trying to see what it was women saw. Besides the mocha-colored skin he’d been blessed with from his Jamaican father and his beautiful, green-eyed Irish mother, he didn’t see much special.

His nose was crooked from flying over the handlebars of his bike while still in training wheels. It should have taught him to slow down. It didn’t. A small curved scar on his chin testified that flying a Humvee over an Iraqi sand dune was not the smartest idea, especially when the top-heavy rig rolled. Speed always enticed him. Life was meant to be lived fast and hard. So far, so good.

He flexed one arm, proud of the rippling effect the one taut bicep had over the rest of his upper body. He didn’t do steroids, but when he flexed into one of those weightlifter-type power stances, it looked like maybe he used. Truth was, he didn’t have to. Genetics supplied the basics; he’d supplemented with a steady bodybuilding program and, voila. There stood the man he was today.

Time to roll. By the time he exited the bathroom with the towel once again snug on his hips, Jake had left a cup of coffee on the counter, already doctored with enough creamer and sugar. The debris from the living room was picked up. Two full garbage bags stood at the front door on their way to the dumpster. The quiet verse of another opera reverberated tragically from the back bedroom. Poor Jake. Still singing his heart away.

Time for another Teaser!

Book 3 ~ ZACK

He just wants to play…

Can you blame him? Life is perfect for Zack Lennox.

He's got it made: fast car, fast women, and the best job on the planet - until he comes

face to face with a tiny girl caught up in a child-smuggling ring.

The moment he decides to rescue her, his perfect life of fun and games is over.

He just doesn't know it yet.

She's on  mission…

Life is anything but fun for Mei Xing, a single mother searching for her kidnapped daughter.

When law enforcement proves worthless, she takes matters into her own hands

and runs headlong into the handsome Agent Lennox.

He's cocky and self-assured. She's fiercely determined to run over anyone in her way.

How difficult could it be to dupe him into telling all he knows?

Mei is about to find out

Look for it on Amazon, Kindle, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords

Another teaser . . .

Watch for it!

February 2014

Greatly anticipated release for Book 2 

MARK

USMC Sergeant Mark Houston has done the unthinkable. He's fallen in love with his buddy's fiancee, Libby Clifton. If that's not bad enough Jon Wells is killed in action in Afghanistan, shot out of the sky by a Taliban rocket propelled grenade.

Mark must face Libby again, this time to break her heart as USMC Notification Officer.

Not only has he lost his best friend, but now he stands to lose his friendship with Libby as well.

Or does he?

Just a tease . . .

Book #1, titled ALEX,  in the series In the Company of Snipers will be released this December, in time for Christmas.

How cool is that?

Stay tuned. I will be posting the cover as soon as it's finished!