In His Sights, page 1
In His Sights
By Tina Beckett
During a hostile situation at the American embassy in Angola, Special Forces officer Cole Scalini is ordered to take out a suicide bomber and rescue a hostage. Simple enough for a sniper with his training, until he realizes that the woman in danger is neither a random nor a typical victim. She’s pregnant.
Callie Nascimento is carrying her sister’s baby as a surrogate when she discovers her sister was killed under suspicious circumstances. Now Callie’s become a target. Her only hope for survival is a rebel of another kind, a handsome loner of a military man who’s risking his life to save her.
As Cole strives to keep Callie safe, fighting the terrain and terrorist attacks, his respect for her grows. She’s strong, capable and sexy as hell. But before he can explore if their attraction is something deeper, he has to get her safely back on U.S. soil. Because the enemy is much closer to home than they realize.
79,000 words
Dear Reader,
August has a special feel for me. Not only is it my birthday month (and I’m firmly in the camp of celebrating a birthday month—one day just isn’t enough) but since I’m in North America, August is also the last hurrah of summer. It’s the time before my daughter goes back to school and lazy weekends at the beach start drawing to a close. In my professional life, August is also the one month of the year I try to take a break from the crazy travel schedule.
So with all those things combined, you know what that means, right? I become self-indulgent and get in as much reading as possible. That’s why I’m thrilled we’re kicking off the month of August with the first book in the fun and flirty new contemporary romance trilogy, Aisle Bound. Planning for Love by Christi Barth releases the first of August, and I hope you love it as much as I do. It’s got all of the elements I adore in a contemporary romance: humor, passion, likable characters and, best of all, a happy ending. Christi is a wonderful, fresh new voice in contemporary romance. This book was so much fun to edit, and if you love contemporary romance, please check it out!
Not only do we have Planning for Love releasing in August, we also have quite the lineup of debut, new-to-Carina and returning authors in a variety of genres. This month, I’m excited to introduce debut authors Bronwyn Stuart, Ruth Diaz and Jacqueline M. Battisti, each writing three very different genres, but each bringing us three amazing stories. Bronwyn presents us with a passionate historical romance, Scandal’s Mistress, while Jacqueline blazes onto the writing scene with her first romantic urban fantasy, The Guardian of Bastet. Ruth’s book, The Superheroes Union: Dynama, is exactly what you might imagine it to be from that title: a fast-paced superhero female/female romance.
Also offering up urban-fantasy fare this month in the GLBT category are authors Heidi Belleau and Violetta Vane, with their co-authored male/male urban fantasy The Druid Stone. And if the male/male genre is what you enjoy, make sure you also check out L.B. Gregg’s August re-release of Men of Smithfield: Mark and Tony, a spicy contemporary male/male romance with a lighter edge.
If you’re a fan of romantic suspense, we have two to help you indulge your cravings. Tina Beckett offers up In His Sights, while fans of Adrienne Giordano’s Private Protectors series will be pleased to see her back with another action-packed installment in Relentless Pursuit. If you’ve never read Adrienne’s books, Relentless Pursuit is an excellent place to get attached to her sexy heroes and strong-willed heroines. Or, if you want to start with something shorter, check out Adrienne’s novella, Negotiating Point in the Editor’s Choice Volume I collection.
New Carina Press author Kaily Hart kicks off her paranormal romance series Fabric of Fate with Rise of Hope. Will fate alone determine their future or can they carve out their own destiny?
Rounding out our August releases are three returning Carina Press authors. Joely Sue Burkhart’s The Bloodgate Warrior is an erotic fantasy romance sure to knock your socks off! Robert Appleton returns with another science-fiction offering in Cyber Sparks. And bestselling author Rebecca York brings us the sequel to Dark Magic with the novella Shattered Magic.
I think you’ll find something in this month’s collection to help you indulge. And, hey, since it’s my birthday month, celebrate with me by indulging in more than one. I won’t tell!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
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Dedication
To my fabulous critique partners who looked over everything I threw at them. Thank you guys so much!
Contents
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
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Cole’s back itched.
A normal person would simply reach behind him and fix the problem. But keeping his sniper rifle trained on the bad guy required two hands. And one eye.
He shifted his body a millimeter to the right, holding his finger steady on the trigger. Maybe his black shirt would blot the slow-rolling drop of sweat before it drove him over the edge. Unless the voice dribbling through his earpiece like the incessant drip of a leaky faucet sent him over first. What was that hostage negotiator doing, anyway?
When your bosses told you to clear an American embassy—now—that didn’t mean to sit around and shoot the breeze. It meant something bad was headed your way.
Moss threw him a warning glance from the roof of the building fifteen yards to his left. Leave it to his buddy’s sharp eyes to catch the restless movement. His Special Forces chum could sit in one spot for hours on end. Cole could too, but the effort ate away at him. He craved action. Lived for it. Maybe that’s why no one woman could ever hold him in place long enough to get a proposal out of him.
Short attention span.
ADHD they’d called it in elementary school. They’d drugged him up, slapped a “normal” label on him and sent him on his way.
But he’d proven them all wrong. Cole was anything but normal. Why else would his knees be glued to the roof of a sixteen-floor apartment building in a sweltering third world country? Could it be that it took one madman to take out another before said crazy person took out any of Cole’s countrymen? Or countrywoman, in this case.
ADHD. Yeah. Channeled in the right direction, that label had become an asset in his line of work rather than a liability. It allowed his brain to rapidly switch tracks when the need arose. He took situations apart, analyzed them and solved them. Fast.
The military called it “thinking on his feet.” Cole called it pulling his thumb out of his ass.
Then why couldn’t he figure out how to make the skin on his back stop doing the hokey pokey? Because he wasn’t getting any action. That’s why.
If they’d inserted him in the middle of the situation, instead of that Washington bureau-I-don’t-give-a-crat, they might have already put this baby to bed with no casualties. As it was, the only one talking was the schmuck with the bomb strapped to his chest. The so-called hostage negotiator who’d been embedded with them hadn’t gotten so much as a complete sentence in edgewise. What was the use of psycho-bullshit if you didn’t even try to use it? Not that Cole put much faith in that kind of thing. He was convinced the whole psychological community had been put on earth for the sole purpose of bringing him grief. It worked. He didn’t trust any of those sniveling, mind-melding types. Not one of them. He trusted his gut and not much else.
Unfortunately Cole’s gut wasn’t getting the chance to prove itself. Bomb guy had anchored that pregnant woman to his chest as tightly as his explosive pack and kept her there for the last ten minutes. Cole could get a clean head shot and take the guy out, but he couldn’t guarantee the hand holding the switch wouldn’t trip it in a reflexive jerk as he went down.
He moved his telescopic sight down an inch and took in the condition of the hostage. Large, calm eyes seemed to stare up toward his position. Cole frowned. Could she see him?
Doubtful. He was hidden in the shadows and sixteen floors up. Still, it gave him a moment’s pause. And threatened his icy detachment. Not good. He moved the sights a bit lower.
The woman was
Cole bent over backward for no one. He did his job and moved on. No hesitation. No regrets. At least that’s what he told himself. Forcing his rifle sights away from the vulnerable slope of the woman’s abdomen and back to the spot just over the kidnapper’s right eye, his finger tensed.
Just one shot. That’s all he needed. But first he had to make sure the suicidal little shit’s hand was far away from the red button, or whatever he was using for a trigger.
He glanced at Moss and raised his brows. Got anything?
Moss’s thumb took a downward dive. Nothing. You?
Cole shook his head.
A quiet female voice came through the earpiece, startling him.
What the hell?
He moved his sight down, hoping that voice wasn’t coming from who he thought it was.
Shit and double shit. The hostage was speaking in slow measured tones. In flawless Portuguese.
What did she think she was doing?
She brushed her hands over her stomach. “Você tem filhos, senhor?”
Do you have kids?
No, no, no. Do not tell him.
The directional listening device picked up her voice just as easily as it had the kidnapper’s.
“Cala a boca,” the rebel screamed, warning her to shut her mouth.
“I’m sorry.” The woman leaned her head back against the crazed man’s chest. Cole recognized what she was trying to do. Initiate physical contact and make herself human in the man’s eyes.
It didn’t always work, though, and she was risking a hell of a lot. Especially when there were already people on the ground trying to get her out.
The man glanced down at her, surprise flickering across his face as her hands continued to travel in slow soothing strokes across her abdomen.
Fuck.
Cole’s cuss-meter was blinking a red warning light, threatening to overload if he hurled one more word at it.
“You are with child?” the kidnapper asked, shifting his weight to his left foot. Any movement made him a harder target, but it also showed he was getting nervous.
The woman gave a contented sigh. “Yes. A boy.”
Cole threw a questioning scowl at Moss and tilted his head.
Moss answered with a slight shrug. He didn’t know what was going on, either.
“Cole…Moss,” a hurried voice came through the earpiece, drowning out the woman’s, “can either of you get a clean shot?”
“I can,” said Cole. “But I can’t see the target’s trigger hand.”
“Doesn’t matter. As soon as you can take the shot, do it. That contingent of approaching rebels is closing in. E.T.A currently stands at ten minutes. If we’re going to evacuate the embassy, it has to be now, which means we need past that target.”
“And the woman?” Cole tried to blot out the image forming in his mind.
There was a slight pause. “Take the shot.”
What had been one droplet of sweat turned into a steady stream as he squinted through the sight and tried to ignore the woman’s soft, mellow voice as she said all the right things. If they’d had the time, she might’ve turned this around on her own. As it was, fifty embassy employees were at stake, not just one woman.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger. Blood sprayed even before the muffled thwap of impact made it back to his ears. The woman’s face, still tilted up at the dead man, caught some of the spatter before she had a chance to look away. She flinched.
He expected a shrill scream to pierce his eardrums, but got nothing. The kidnapper fell away from his victim, his hand still clutching some kind of string. The trigger. And, instead of running for her life, the woman went down on her haunches and felt the target’s neck for a pulse. Cole could see the reflexive death twitches as the man’s nervous system began to implode. One hard convulsive movement and the device would go off.
“Get out of there.” Cole stood up, shouting.
The hell with this. He was going in.
Cole detached his gun from its support and slung the strap over his shoulder. The rappelling ropes he’d secured earlier were coiled at the edge of the rooftop, ready to go.
“Cole,” Moss yelled through the earpiece, as if reading his mind. “Wait for orders.”
Cole hooked the pulley system to his harness. All he heard was “Fuck!” before he pushed away and headed down the side of the building.
He fed the rope through as fast as he dared, but the descent seemed to take forever. In reality, he was at ground level in less than a minute.
Releasing the clip, he sprinted for the woman, who was still crouched beside the kidnapper.
“He’s dead. Let’s go.” Cole wrapped a hand around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet, turning toward a bank of graffiti-scrawled apartment buildings to his left.
Instead of following, she planted her feet. “Who are you?” The look in her eyes sent a chill crawling down his spine. It was the same expression she’d turned on the kidnapper. Eerie calm with a tinge of dread.
“Who am I? I’m the man who just saved your ass.”
Her glance went to the rifle. “You! You murdered him.”
He ignored the insult and dragged her away from the body, making for the safety of one of the apartment buildings. The embassy was too obvious a target. The rebels were itching to teach Washington a lesson for supporting the newly elected Angolan president—who’d conveniently fled the capital an hour ago. If those forces made it before the extraction team arrived, Cole needed to get the woman to cover. There was no time to argue.
So why did he feel the need to justify his actions as they made their way across the rough pavement? He jerked his head toward the bloody corpse behind them. “The bomb strapped to his chest said he was going to die anyway. I kept you from joining him.”
“All I needed was a few more minutes.” Her voice rattled in time with her jarring steps. “No one had to die.”
In his line of work, someone always died.
“Lady, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“And you do?”
“Yeah. Me and nineteen others like me who are here to get you and the embassy officials out.”
“Why does the military always think force is the answer to everything?” Her gasping breaths were growing louder by the minute.
They reached the shadow of a building four blocks from the embassy. Cole ducked into the doorway, pulling her next to him and out of the line of fire.
Anger went through him. He’d just busted his ass to save her life—possibly risking a formal reprimand—and she was complaining? “And your solution would be what?”
“The best solution would have been to appeal to his humanity.”
“He had no humanity.”
“Yes, he did. The same way you do. The same way I do.”
The fury behind the soft tone was unmistakable. Cole had no idea what she was so worked up about. The man had just tried to kill her and she was defending him. “What are you a shrink or something?”
She jerked away from his hold. “I’m a psychiatrist.”
Oh shit. A mind melder. He should have let someone else go in after her. Anyone else. This was the last thing he needed on his hands today. Someone who thought she could save the whole fucking world single-handedly. “Well, whose method would you say was more effective in this case? Yours or mine?”
Her eyes flashed up at him. “Yours was certainly faster. But that doesn’t make it right.”
“Well, you can tell that to my commanding officer…ma’am.” He started to usher her away from the doorway when the sound of machinegun fire ripped through the air.
