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And they were still no closer to Red Fucking Wolf.

“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” Gabriel began. “You’re going to recover. I’ll be here every day, and you can tell me what you’re ready to tell me personally. Your call. Professionally, if you can work with me, you’re going to brief me on all the angles, and I’ll be your hands, legs, eyes and ears until you’re out of here.”

Her heart squeezed. “And after?”

“I’m thinking partner, but I’m pretty damn picky and you’re pretty damn prickly, so we’ll work that out as we go.”

“Why?” She had to know. “You’ll have to give up the teaching job, move here, and live with us. We’re not going to stop.” Not until every damn part of Red Wolf was dismantled, dead and buried. Maybe not even then.

Bad guys were out there, and bad guys needed to be stopped.

“Because I love you.” The declaration caught her off guard and she curled her fingers into her palms to try and stop the shaking. “I’m thirty-five years old. I’ve been around the block a time or two. I know what hell looks like, and I know what life without you looks like. A woman like you comes along once in a lifetime. I meant it when I said I’d find you. I’m here until you tell me to get the fuck out, and then only if I can’t change your mind.”

Impossible. Incorrigible. Incredible
. “I’m really messed up.”

“It’s okay. You’re you, and I got into this business to help people.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I’m here for you, whatever you need. I love you. Let me in. Let me stay.”

Everything about him, his gaze, his manner—his voice. He meant every word. Her gut screamed at her to trust him. Merc liked him. Chrome let him stay.

What did she want?

“You scare me.” Honesty hurt. He’d been honest with her, so she’d be honest with him. “I lost someone I loved. I lost my team too, but I lost someone I trusted with my heart. He took a lot of it with him.”

Gabriel didn’t move.

“What’s left is a pretty shattered piece of glass. I’m kind of callous at times, and it’s a lot easier for me to be anyone else but me.” A lump stuck in her throat and she scowled. Tears sucked. “I hate big emotional displays, and I’m not cuddly. You stay—I’m probably going to be a real bitch to you.”

“This is different from how you’ve been since we met in what way?” The bland question stymied her tears, and she stared at him. He raised his eyebrows and a smile curved his lips slowly. “I like all the broken bits, Copper. You don’t need to be anyone you don’t want to be, not as long as you’re with me. When you’re ready to let me in, I’ll be here. I love you.”

Nothing she did kept him in a box, and no sooner did she think she had a handle on that, then he changed the rules. Longing twisted inside of her. She wanted to reach out and take what he offered. To grab on and never let go.

Sniffing once, she swiped away a tear. “Rule number one? Copper doesn’t cry so, if you see tears…”

His smile grew. “They never happened.”

“Rule number two? Copper’s a damn good Marine, and she follows orders. If Chrome says jump, my ass will be in the air. I will drop everything and go.”

“Jarheads as a rule are pretty damn stubborn where rules and regulations are concerned. I can live with that.”

“Rule number three…” She fought the lump again then swallowed around it. “My friends call me Copper, but my name is Sachi. And I really want you to stay.”

He swiped away one of the tears with his thumb. “Hi, Sachi.”

The broken bits and pieces of her heart squeezed together. She hadn’t been her in a long time, but she could do this. She could be Sachi for him because she wanted to be Sachi. She could let go of the past because she had a future. It was time.
Goodbye Brad.
“Hi, Gabriel.”

Everything else— Well, that was the next mission.

 

 

 

Heather Long

 

National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them; you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

 

Read more from Heather here

Wolf Bite

Marshal of Hel Dorado

Her Marine Bodyguard

 

Social Media Links

Website –
http://www.heatherlong.net

Blog –
http://heatherlongauthor.blogspot.com

Facebook Author Page –
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Twitter -
http://www.twitter.com/HVLong

Goodreads –
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2959976.Heather_Long

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http://www.pinterest.com/hvlong/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sterling’s Seduction

 

 

 

 

By Sabrina York

 

 

 

Sterling’s Seduction

By Sabrina York

 

Text Copyright Sabrina York 2015

Edited by: Carrie Jackson

All Rights Reserved

 

Discover more titles by Sabrina York at
http://sabrinayork.com/

 

 

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Veronica Westfall.

Shine on, baby.

 

Sterling’s Seduction

By Sabrina York

 

When a snoopy reporter threatens the Elite Metal, Sterling will do whatever it takes to kill her story about the team. Even if it means he has to tie her to his bed.

 

When Sterling spots a reporter masquerading as a waitress in a dingy bar in Deep Ellum, he suspects she’s investigating the team. And that’s something he just cannot allow to happen. Too many lives are at stake. He will do everything in his power to learn the truth—even seduce her. And to stop her story from coming out? He might even tie her to the bed.

Nothing is off the table when it comes to keeping his brothers safe. Nothing. It’s a damn shame she’s everything he’s ever wanted. It’s a damn shame her touch warms his cold, dead heart.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

He saw her out of the corner of his eye, and he immediately went on point. Yeah, his cock went from zero to stone hard in a breath, but it was more than that. It was a familiar sizzle of recognition…and suspicion.

What the hell was she doing
here
?

He should have been paying attention to what Steele was saying, but she stole all his attention. Every bit of it. He narrowed his eyes through the murk of Bone Daddy’s and focused on her.

Fuck yeah.

That was her.

He hadn’t seen her since…

“Sterling?” Steele rapped. “Are you even listening?”

Nope. Not a word.

His patter had been nothing more than an annoying drone, twined with the rebel yell blasting from the band on the stage. The sight of
her
had grabbed his mind by the balls…and yanked. Even now, it was hard to drag his attention back to the crew lounging at his table.

They’d decided to ride into town tonight, to kick back and relax. After their recent missions, Sterling had been all for a mindless night drinking beer and chewing the fat. But now… Now a night of chillaxing went out the window.

His fingers curled around his beer until his knuckles went white.

Chrome’s gaze flicked through the shadows. “What is it?” he asked. He always sensed when something was up. Of course, Sterling’s clenched fists were a dead giveaway; if he wasn’t careful he might shatter his beer bottle.

With great care he unclenched his fingers and set the bottle on the table. “Nothing. It’s just… I know her.”

“Her?” Chrome frowned. “The hot new waitress?”

“Mmm hmm.” Either that, or she looked a hell of a lot like someone he’d seen in LA. A helluva lot. Far too much for coincidence. He’d only seen her once, and then only in passing, but he’d felt the impact of that one glance clear down to his gut. Like a fist slamming into him. That he’d never been able to forget her face, never been able to banish her from his mind, didn’t help. That smile, those eyes…
Fuck.
She’d haunted his dreams for months. “I think she’s a reporter.”

Both Chrome and Steele went still. They exchanged a fierce glance and their jaws clenched in twin annoyance. “A reporter?”

“Yeah. I saw her once. When I was in LA.”

“Shit, Sterling. You did pull the peach, didn’t you?” Copper smirked. With a shake of her head, she tipped back her beer.

“Hardly,” he snorted. First of all, he’d hated the way things had gone down. It had been hell to be ripped from a career, from friends he loved, and shuttled away like someone his country was ashamed of. Second of all, none of them had had any say in the fake identities they’d been dealt. And third of all… “My name was
Steve
. My job was advising hipster screenwriters on why their special ops scripts sucked. Trying to school them on why, in fact, your SEAL team can’t jump out of an airplane at high altitudes without a mask.”

Copper gaped at him. “Seriously? Why would they write it that way?”

“Because,” Sterling said in a whiny voice, “we don’t want to cover their pretty faces.”

“Brother.”

“Their
pretty
faces would all be pretty
dead
at that altitude,” Steele said. Without oxygen? Yeah. Pretty much. But at least they’d still be pretty.

“Tell me about it. Anyway…” He turned his attention back to the waitress, who was rounding the bar with a swish of her hips. His gaze stalled on that until Steele toed him in the shins.

“Anyway…?”

“I was working this one job, on the set of an action flick, when the security team found a chick lurking in one of the stars’ trailers.”

Chrome frowned. “Did that happen a lot?”

“Yeah. But
this
chick insisted she was just a fan and wanted to leave him a photo and love letter. Since she had a photo and a love letter, and since she batted her pretty lashes at them, and since they were dumbasses, they let her go.”

“Did they check her bag?” Copper asked.

“Nope. Did I mention they were dumbasses? Rent-a-cops. Anyway, the next day the story broke in the
National Snoop
, outing Brace Sidira—”

“Oh my God.” Copper chuckled. “I remember that.
Hollywood’s Horndog Hunts Hommes
. Shit. You were there?”

“Oh yeah. I was the one who found the cameras and the mics she’d stashed.” He shot Copper a glare. “She was pretty good.”

“Wait.” Copper leaned in, her eyes glittering. “So you know Brace Sidira?”

“We’ve met.”

She made a face. “See. You pulled the peach. Hanging out in Hollywood, rubbing elbows with movie stars…”

“Answering to
Steve
.”

Steele huffed a laugh, but then his expression firmed. “So what makes you think that waitress is the same girl? She doesn’t look like a hard-boiled reporter.”

Sterling raised his beer. “Part of her charm.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“I never forget a face.”

“Not that face anyway,” Chrome muttered. It was everything Sterling could do to rein in the sizzle of annoyance at his tone. He had no claim on the waitress. No reason to feel so…possessive. He had no idea why he did.

Steele nodded. “Let me go see what Daryl knows.”

“Do you have any cash?”

Steele leaned back and fished in his pocket for a couple twenties. “Okay. Be right back.”

As Steele headed off to grill the bartender about his new employee, Sterling studied her. With each flash of her smile, each flick of a lid, each twitch of her hips, he became more convinced. He’d always had the uncanny ability to memorize faces; it was as though his mind snapped a picture and stored it in a vault. But with her it was more than that. Her gestures, expressions, the lilt of her voice.

She’d made that strong an impression on him when he’d seen her—albeit in passing—all those months ago. Granted, at the time, he’d been racked with regret that his life had turned out the way it had—that he’d had to give everything up and walk away from a world he’d created. And given the circumstances of his banishment, he couldn’t pursue a fleeting attraction—couldn’t pursue any attraction—because he didn’t know from moment to moment what the future would hold or when disaster would cave in on him again.

Aside from that, he hadn’t recovered from losing Dancer. Not really. Couldn’t shake the fact that it was his fault she died. The last thing he wanted was a woman in his life.

When Steele returned to the table, his expression was dark.

“Well?” Chrome prompted.

“It’s not good. Her name is
Candy
.”

“Right.”

“She blew into town about a week ago, driving a beat-up Honda with California plates. She rented a room at the motor inn at the end of town. A two-week lease. According to Daryl, she’s always on time, does her shift with no problems and…” His gaze skated around the table. “She’s very curious about the gated compound just down the road.”

“Shit,” Chrome snapped.

Sterling set his teeth.
Damn.

“And she’s awfully curious about local biker gangs.”

Fuck.
Those two things alone were bad enough. But twined together? Practically confirmation right there.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Maybe she has a thing for leather,” Copper said with a waggle of her brow.

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