The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance Read online

  Trisha Telep was the romance and fantasy book buyer at Murder One, the UK’s premier crime and romance bookstore. She has recently re-launched this classic bookshop online at www.murderone.co.uk. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, she completed the Master of Publishing program at Simon Fraser University before moving to London. She lives in Hackney with her boyfriend, filmmaker Christopher Joseph.

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  Constable & Robinson Ltd

  3 The Lanchesters

  162 Fulham Palace Road

  London W6 9ER

  www.constablerobinson.com

  First published in the UK by Robinson,

  an imprint of Constable & Robinson, 2010

  Copyright © Trisha Telep, 2010 (unless otherwise indicated)

  The right of Trisha Telep to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in Publication

  Data is available from the British Library

  UK ISBN 978-1-84901-044-3

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  First published in the United States in 2010 by Running Press Book Publishers

  All rights reserved under the Pan-American and International Copyright Conventions

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the publisher.

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Digit on the right indicates the number of this printing

  US Library of Congress number: 2009929932

  US ISBN 978-0-76243-843-3

  Running Press Book Publishers

  2300 Chestnut Street

  Philadelphia, PA 19103-4371

  Visit us on the web!

  www.runningpress.com

  Printed and bound in the EU

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  ONCE BURNED

  Penny McCall

  CANE RIVER

  Rinda Elliott

  SURRENDER AT DAWN

  Laura Griffin

  INTO THE NIGHT SKY

  Charlotte Mede

  A KEPT MAN

  Shannon K. Butcher

  RUSSIAN ROULETTE

  Rachel Caine

  VERISEAL

  Marliss Melton

  SHOOT TO THRILL

  Charlene Teglia

  THE ANGELS OF PUNISHMENT

  Michele Albert

  DARK FORCE

  Cheyenne McCray

  LIPSTICK SPY SCHOOL

  Gina Robinson

  DON’T WALK AWAY

  Shiloh Walker

  HEAT OF THE NIGHT

  Jordan Summers

  OVERKILL

  E. C. Sheedy

  THE GREY MAN

  Caitlyn Nicholas

  GOOD GUYS

  Liz Muir

  CODE WORD: STORM

  Sydney Croft

  TAG TEAM

  Nicola Marsh

  THE GAME

  Gennita Low

  THE TRAITOR

  Debra Webb

  Author Biographies

  Acknowledgments

  “Once Burned” © by Penny McCall. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Cane River” © by Rinda Elliott. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Surrender at Dawn” © by Laura Griffin. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Into the Night Sky” © by Charlotte Mede. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “A Kept Man” © by Shannon K. Butcher. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Russian Roulette” © by Rachel Caine. First publication, original to this ant
hology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “VeriSEAL” © by Marliss Melton. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Shoot to Thrill” © by Charlene Teglia. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “The Angels of Punishment” © by Michele Albert. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Dark Force” © by Cheyenne McCray. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Lipstick Spy School” © by Gina Robinson. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Don’t Walk Away” © by Shiloh Walker. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Heat of the Night” © by Jordan Summers. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Overkill” © by E. C. Sheedy. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “The Grey Man” © by Caitlyn Nicholas. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Good Guys” © by Liz Muir. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “Code Word: Storm” © by Sydney Croft. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “TAG Team” © by Nicola Marsh. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “The Game” © by Gennita Low. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  “The Traitor” © by Debra Webb. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.

  Introduction

  Everybody needs a hero. I know Tina Turner flatly stated that “we don’t need another” one but I say Tina is wrong! So, if you like your military suspenseful, you’ve come to the right place. This book is packed as tight as a sexy six-pack with tough yet tender men who have the skills to get the job done. They win their loves – or take them by force, if necessary – but still wake up day after day to right the wrongs of the world, whether they be in the jungles of Indonesia, the waters of the US eastern seaboard or deep in the lawless South American wilds. Navy Seals, Delta Force, Green Beret and special ops commandos from different countries around the world are joined by FBI and CIA operatives, mercenaries and double agents in stories to make you swoon. These stories run the gamut from cosy, curl-up-with-a-warm-cup-of-cocoa-and-a-sweet-hard-boiled-Navy-Seal-on-a-mission to flat out adrenaline-fuelled action and a chance to let these trained warriors show you exactly what they’re built for. Danger and intrigue are their business but passionate, soul-crushing sex and unbridled desire are high on their list of targets as well.

  The lives of these highly-trained warriors can seem a bit of a mystery to the rest of us – unknowable and slightly off to the side of everyday life. Their missions are never really seen directly but you read about them in newspapers when a kidnapping is foiled or an ambassador is saved. They slip in and out of the shadows rarely seen, and their praises often go unsung. But what about when you do catch a glimpse of one? I mean, they have to go grocery shopping sometime, don’t they? And where do they channel all that energy when they are not saving people from burning buildings, masterminding great escapes or taking a bullet for their best buddy? These are men of passion and intensity – their very lives depend on it – and that same intensity is found in the bedroom. Truly, these guys (and girls) seem to have two main settings: hard and harder.

  And what kind of book would this be without a nod to the more fantastic side of Special Ops: superheroes and other teams of covert paranormal operatives. Not everyone uses AK-47s and Uzis as standard operating equipment, you know. Some use electric fingertips, ghost summoning, salt and holy water instead of guns and knives. Who said Special Forces can’t have otherwordly powers? Aren’t these guys pretty much superhuman anyway?

  So stay in with stories of hot-blooded, highly trained former lovers reunited on missions, skilled soldiers in (and out of) uniform, and hapless civilians spellbound by the allure of unstoppable, sexy saviours who inspire more than just their gratitude. Heart-stopping danger means heart-stopping passion. From traditional military suspense and intelligence capers of sexy operatives with a paranormal kick, you’ll find all kinds of stories to sate your physical desires and leave you gasping. These are men on a mission . . . for your heart.

  Trisha Telep

  Once Burned

  Penny McCall

  One

  Kate Morris snapped awake, snatched from the depths of REM sleep by the slight buzz of her home-made alarm system going off. Not a muscle so much as twitched, not even her eyelids. There was no way her bedroom had been breached so quickly, but Kate wasn’t a woman who took chances. Not any more.

  The house had gone silent again, but silent didn’t mean empty. This silence was like a held breath, the ticking seconds between one chess move and another, the moment after a gauntlet was thrown down. “Game on,” this silence said, and the intruder wasn’t your garden-variety sneak thief looking for trinkets. It wasn’t a pervert either, and it sure as hell wasn’t the Avon lady. It was a pro – a pro who knew he’d been made. Who it was, what he wanted, Kate had no clue. What he’d get, she thought with a grim smile, was a fight.

  She rolled out of bed, a gun already in her hand by the time her bare feet hit the floor. She cat-footed it into the en-suite bathroom, barely pausing there to strap a knife – one of the weapons she had stashed around her house – at her calf.

  She eased open the door to the hallway and slipped out, headed away from the stairs to the foyer. Her house was one of the old Victorians in Washington, DC – three rambling, half-restored floors, complete with servants’ quarters in the attic and a back staircase. She eased down the stairs, skipping the third and seventh risers with their purposely unrepaired squeaks, assessing the situation as she went.

  The guy downstairs was good, good enough to get through the best security systems in the world. He wasn’t good enough to avoid her traps though, or get out of them easily. The back stairs let out on to the kitchen. She slipped through that room, taking a few seconds to assess the situation. The front door was half open. The intruder, a darker shape against the slight illumination from the street lights, was crouched down in her foyer with his back to her, still trying to disentangle himself from the snarls of fishing line wrapped around his ankles.

  Kate ran on the balls of her feet, fast and quiet, ending up with the gun barrel pressed to the nape of his neck. “Stand up. Slowly.”

  He did, and she nearly fumbled the gun, covering her sudden case of nerves by jamming the barrel into the small of his back. She was tall, but he had enough height on her to make it dangerous to keep her gun at his neck. Having her arm in the air put her off balance – physically. Emotionally she was already reeling. She hid that too.

  “One shot and you’ll never walk again,” she said. “If you’re still alive.”

  “It’s me,” he said, which covered a hell of lot of territory – none of which she was eager to revisit.

  “I know.” She didn’t lower the gun.

  “Is this how you welcome an old friend into your house?”

  “Friends wait to be invited.”

  “We’re not friends any more? I’m crushed.”

  “We were never friends.”

  “No, ‘friends’ is way too mild a word for what we were.”

  His words hit her like fists. Kate wanted a moment, just a few seconds really, to catch her breath. But he was too good at reading her. Or at least he had been, once upon a time. “When I came down here I wasn’t planning to pull the trigger,” she said, as if seeing him again meant nothing to her. “Dead bodies are so inconvenient: all the questions from the police, and the mess. I just refi
nished this floor.”

  “So you’re not over me.”

  “Keep talking, Swiss Cheese.”

  He turned, slowly, moving the gun aside with an index finger, then bent to take a closer look at it, flipping on a penlight. “Hair trigger?”

  “And armour-piercing rounds.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Right, like I was expecting you to show up. My house is probably at the bottom of your list of favourite destinations, right after hell.”

  Reese Kyle shook his head, his slight smile lending no humour to a face that could have been chiselled out of granite. There was nothing soft about the rest of him either, and she didn’t just mean the tall body with its rock-hard muscles. The man inside that shell, and the heart that beat in his chest, were just as cold and hard. He pulled a wicked-looking dive knife from the sheath at his waist, sliced away the fishing line around his ankles, and closed her front door.

  “Thanks, but you’re supposed to be on the other side.”

  “Nope. I’m here for a reason.” His eyes dropped to her bare legs, moving up slowly to settle on her skimpy tank top.

  Her nipples hardened. “That better not be the reason,” she said.

  He lifted his eyes to her face. “I’m on an op.”

  That staggered her, almost more than seeing him. “Mike would never send you to work an op that involves me,” she said, referring to Mike Kovaleski, the FBI handler who’d once run her professional life. “Not after the last time.”

  “Mike does whatever it takes to get the job done.”

  “The two of us don’t exactly have a stellar track record as a team when it comes to getting the job done.” Or anything else for that matter.

  “Nobody asked you to quit.”

  She snorted. “Shit flows downhill, and I was at the bottom of the slope. Not to mention the one with the blown cover. It was just a matter of time before I was sent packing.”

  “You didn’t have to cut me out of your life.”

  “You weren’t exactly burning up the phone lines.”

  “I was trying to let the dust settle.”

  “Five years is a lot of dust.”

  “You could have picked up the phone.”