When the Smoke Clears, page 1
Table of Contents
Trigger Warning
Dedication
Part 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part 2
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Part 3
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more romance… Like a Boss
Her Marine Next Door
The Poet
Just a Little Bet
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by C. Chilove. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Rd
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
rights@entangledpublishing.com
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Stacy Abrams
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Cover photography by Neostock
ISBN 978-1-64937-138-6
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition April 2021
Author’s Note: This book depicts issues of pregnancy loss. I have taken every effort to ensure this issue is handled sensitively, but if this element could be considered triggering to you, please take note.
To Mark, the wind beneath my wings that keeps me steadfast and determined to accomplish my dreams, I love you.
And, to Latoya Smith, who believed in my voice and that the world of Black Smoke should be read by all.
Part 1
229 Days until Deployment: Operation Jackal’s Lair
Mission Status: On Schedule & Authorized for Combat Operations
Chapter One
The veil of night was lifting, retreating to the salmon rays marking a new dawn. Relief spread across Lieutenant Colonel Brenden Jasper’s limbs as he took a deep inhale of the warm, salty air thrusting through the passenger cabin of the chopper. Nothing was sweeter than the smell of Tampa Bay, except freedom.
He was home.
He pulled his absent gaze from the shadows lingering over the deep blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. One by one, he assessed six dirt-clad, bloodstained faces joining him in a silent choir. Forty-eight hours ago, they had been someone’s worst nightmare…walking monsters. And there was no remorse for the job they had done. They were the only team capable of the task. The one team that would fulfill their duty over and over again if it meant America could sleep at night.
Salty sea mist swirled in off the blades of the chopper and tingled his nose, attempting to yank his mind from the remnants of death: images of screaming women, smoked-out huts, breathless children, and ruthless warlords. Hell, his hands still gripped the very weapon that had taken more than a few lives but saved hundreds more.
The casualties of war…or was it the horrors? Neither could ever be erased.
He and his Black Ops team saw so many. Secret mission after secret mission in the name of protecting those they loved, which for some meant they would never know the definition of family beyond those who had raised them or the men they served alongside. Danger outfitted them like a second skin, and the code that bonded them to the brotherhood of Black 2131 was strict and intentional to help avoid complications no soldier could endure.
Blades from the HH-60 Pave Hawk became deafening as it lost force and lowered through thick morning fog to the landing pad. Brenden jumped from the side compartment, boots hitting the cement, then turned back, watching Luke, Roderick, Josh, Trent, Lincoln, and Carlos scramble to unload. He closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer. Only God’s mercy had brought them all back home in one piece.
“Goddamn, who’d guess it was New Year’s Eve with this muggy-ass, eighty-degree weather?” Trent snickered after coming down silent as a jungle cat behind Brenden.
“Better than the sand trap we just left,” Josh yelled as he jumped from the helicopter, then continued to stride inside with the rest of the team to prep for a debrief.
“Yo, Jas,” Trent called to Brenden, using his nickname, while gesturing to the gates ahead. “Looks like Megan went and got her daddy to talk some sense into you, huh? I thought y’all were done. She ain’t gonna let you out tonight?” An echo of laughter followed Trent’s taunt.
“That’s if Jas wants to be let out.” Roderick elbowed Brenden. “Shit, I may skip Tariq’s party. I ain’t had pussy in weeks and we out in the morning.”
“Zero seven hundred,” Brenden muttered gruffly, scratching his chin stubble while zooming in on Megan and the unmarked black sedan parked behind her.
The queen of manipulation had once again exploited her father’s political connections and gained access to restricted military space. Brenden wasn’t surprised to see the pretty blonde waving to him with a perfect Miss America smile. Ever since he’d arrived back home from Beirut three months ago, Megan had become desperate. She’d started bringing up the M word, kids, and everything spelling future in bright lights. None of which he wanted. All of which had led to their separation.
Even now, the sight of her at the gate, coupled with knowing her father was sitting inside the car next to her, reaffirmed his stance. Brenden would easily give up his night of quiet reflection to attend Tariq’s shindig.
Brenden shrugged. “You want me to come chew the fat with you knuckleheads?” He chuckled, knowing a night out with the boys was definitely what he needed after this mission and before the next. Besides, bringing in the New Year with the woman who was no longer his girlfriend was not an option. “I’m in.”
Brenden ignored the heckling from his men as he took to a light jog to greet Megan. The petite woman rushed the gate and, out of nowhere, threw herself into Brenden’s stiff arms. His half hug made her cling harder to his six-foot-four, muscle-clad frame that always dominated her slender daintiness.
“I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?” she asked, pressing herself too close for comfort.
“Why are you here, Megan?” He stepped back and stared into her blue eyes. Her pouty lips proved she still thought the breakup was one of their many time-outs.
Before she could answer, the rear passenger side door of the black sedan opened. Her father, Senator Beau Franks, unfolded his long, slender body from the back seat and came to where Brenden stood with Megan. One look from the senator turned Megan into a contrite teen who’d had her privileges revoked. Without a goodbye, she climbed into the waiting car.
“Brenden, my boy.” Senator Franks greeted him with a handshake as he gave a fleeting once-over of his waiting car. “My daughter hasn’t taken the breakup well. I admit, I had hoped to see our families united. However, that isn’t why I’m here.” The senator peered in the distance, then returned his attention to Brenden. “As you may know, the Senate Armed Services Committee is investigating the arms deal we made with our coalition partners in the east. The analysis I just sat through hasn’t convinced me that we’re on the wrong side of this. I want to avoid politicizing the issue. You’ve always been a straight shooter and your team is on the front line. What should I know before convening a session with my committee?”
Brenden’s vision narrowed and flashed to red, slicing the senator into pieces he wanted to throw away. “You’re allowing American weapons manufacturers to sell to our so-called allies, but then they turn around and distribute those same weapons to our enemies.”
“So you disapprove?”
“I question your and the committee’s view of national security.” Brenden stared into the senator’s growing red face. Did he see anger or frustration? He didn’t give a fuck. Not after intel confirmed he and his men had targets on their backs from the work they were doing to disrupt black market weapons deals with rebel militias. The policy coming out of D.C. impacted the lives of all who fell under his command and the success of Operation Jackal’s Lair, an impending top secret mi
ssion. “The weapons being sold to coalition partners are issued to rebel forces and then used in attacks against us. Look at me.”
Brenden stepped into the man’s personal space. “I just got off a fucking chopper. I’m bloodstained, sweaty, and dirty as shit. Haven’t had a shower in two days, but you and those members on your committee slept safe and sound last night.”
“Brenden, we appreciate everything you and your men do for this country.”
Brenden lifted his cap, attempting to finger-comb his matted hair. His narrow gaze went from the senator to the shadow of Megan behind the tinted window. Again, he should’ve been surprised, but he wasn’t. Time had shown him that the Franks family had no interest in his well-being unless it benefited theirs. And right now, their only concern was the senator’s political capital. Forget that Brenden needed to employ self-care and decompress his mind.
“Do me a favor.” Brenden began walking backward so he could face the man who still blamed him for his family’s unhappiness. “Never come here again like this, and never try to use me as a pawn in whatever political game you’re playing.” He then turned and jogged to where his team stood in the distance unloading their equipment.
And he never looked back.
Hours after the team debrief and refit, the unexpected visit from Senator Franks and Megan still didn’t sit right. The committee’s investigation was leaning in a direction that increased safety concerns as the missions were becoming more frequent and hostile. It didn’t help that for every hour passing since he left Megan and her father at the gates of MacDill Airforce Base, she had called. Even now, with two hours left before the New Year rang in, she was calling. Her constant hounding made it easy for him to cross the illuminated causeway to Tariq’s beachfront pad.
He needed a small reprieve before boarding the plane tomorrow and being dropped into another conflict zone. Tonight gave him a chance to forget the nightmares he’d created, and by the time Brenden arrived at the party, he made a pact to find fun, drinks, a dance…each with a different woman, perhaps.
Brenden’s fingers rushed his tousled hair before pressing the button to raise the top on his obsidian BMW6 convertible. He began strolling from the car, bopping to the too loud music coming from Tariq’s house. Before he could step into the driveway, though, he froze. A woman was down on her hands and knees looking underneath a car.
He knew he should help, at least ask if she needed him to, but his mind was currently distracted by the shape of her supple round ass. Doggie style had always been his favorite position, and this woman, with her ass up and tightly bound in an emerald green dress highlighting the glow of her brown skin, could be Superman’s kryptonite.
“Shit!” The sound of the woman’s feisty voice cut his daydream.
He hesitated for another moment as he became lost while tracing the richness of her complexion. “Is something wrong with your car?”
“This isn’t my car.” She huffed. “I was on my way back in and dropped my phone.” The slim, hourglass beauty stood, hands ironing her dress. Strands of her black hair caught the wind before she turned to face him. When their gazes met for a second, she gasped, then dragged her eyes down his form before she blushed and looked away. “I can’t reach it. I need to get my phone before it becomes tonight’s trash.”
Without hesitation, Brenden dropped to his knees to avoid staring at the incredibly gorgeous woman. The way her beautiful eyes had trailed over him innocently, checking him out, was sexy to no end. He wanted to kiss her full, glossy lips and find out if they would be as sweet as caramel drizzled over vanilla ice cream.
While chasing a flurry of inappropriate thoughts away, Brenden reached underneath the car, and his fingers stretched until he grasped the smartphone. He stood, presenting the woman with her phone, and received a smile that took his breath away.
“Thank you!”
He nodded, unable to speak, then bent over to brush gravel from his pants legs.
“I’m sorry, those look like really nice slacks.” Her mischievous brown orbs twinkled as they traveled up his body and rested at his face. “I’m Paige.” Her eyes locked to his as she extended her hand.
“Brenden.” He took the petite hand into his.
Warmth saturated his body, and the air around them became thick, suffocating almost. The last time he had this feeling was at age eleven when he kissed a girl for the first time, and that was twenty-three years ago. Time had long passed from him being the kid infatuated with his older sister’s best friend. So why was this happening?
Not a question he cared to entertain. And yet, for some strange reason, he couldn’t help employing skills he’d learned while training for clandestine missions. First, he caught hold of his mental awareness. Second, he had to know if the effect she had on him was reciprocal, so he studied her.
Her skin was flushed, lips parted, and there was an erratic bounce of the pulse at her neckline. Her body was telling him everything he needed to know while an unfamiliar wave of satisfaction rooted within.
“Shall we?” He gestured to the front door.
…
A spine-tingling sensation rushed Paige when the smooth, southern tenor belonging to Brenden sounded from behind. His deep voice was like the finest wine: silky, rich, and powerful enough to conjure her naughtiest thoughts. Thoughts that spiraled out of control the moment she turned and looked into his eyes.
Those eyes gave definition to a cosmic collision. They glittered with shades of blue, gray, and specks of gold as his heated gaze traveled every inch of her body, scorching her with unspoken desire.
God, he was the perfect dose of lust.
The man standing before her didn’t fit the bill for the typical military guys she expected to see tonight. There was something different about Brenden. Something intriguing her beyond his tousled blond mane, Milky-Way eyes, chiseled jawline, and keen nose meshing into tall, tan, masculine perfection.
Perhaps it was the way he had dropped down onto his knees without hesitation, dirtying his tailored suit pants to retrieve her phone. Or was it the way he looked at her like he was Adam and she was Eve, two people seeing one of God’s creations for the very first time?
No man had ever taken Paige hostage and made her heart race with just one look, but this one did.
A soft smile curved her lips at his gesture to go inside. Chivalry wasn’t dead, and neither was the angst she began experiencing after realizing a fine-as-hell man was about to walk behind her. Now wasn’t the time to become a crush-struck girl. Paige pulled her shit together, swirled the phrase, God please let me still look good in her head, and then took a deep breath before turning to walk up the sidewalk. The whole time she prayed her ass lived up to its expectations.
Her thoughts were traitorous. Minutes ago she had fled the swanky digs, wishing to be in her parents’ home. There she would’ve savored the smell of fresh baked carrot cake and black-eyed peas while waiting for the New Year to ring in. But that was before Brenden, and after Richard.
For the millionth time this evening, she snubbed thoughts of her asshole ex. Her concentration settled on how she was now bowing to a newfound desire to remain at the party her best friend, Bellamy, had persuaded her to attend. Paige peeked over her shoulder. She caught a whiff of Brenden’s clean masculine scent before his smoldering gaze made her heart beat like a bass drum. It was a miracle she maintained perfect steps in stilettos while entering the beachfront bachelor pad.
“Enjoy your night,” she said to Brenden, attempting to contain her smile but failing miserably as she walked away.
Paige wandered the open space, sliding past raised laughter and slurred words in search of Bellamy. While scanning the house, she noticed the men were a bit different from Bellamy’s normal. Of course they were military, because those were the only men her best friend liked. However, most of the men present didn’t sport the high-and-tight or low fade haircuts.
In fact, some had long hair; a good deal of them had beards and goatees. And all of the men seemed to have been elevated to rock-star status based on the way women were swooning over them. Unfortunately, Bellamy wasn’t an exception.
Paige followed the sound of her friend’s laughter until she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man whispering into Bellamy’s ear. As Paige drew closer, she witnessed the Jessica Rabbit behavior her BFF often employed while socializing with members of the opposite sex. Bellamy was always so confident and liberal in her interactions with men.
