Walker, Bad Boys of X-Ops #1 (a four book series to be released spring/summer 2016)
Explosives are Walkerâs specialty, but heâs never handled anything as combustible as his enemy, Jade Huntington.
Goddammit. All I want to do is blow shit up. Is that too much to ask? But, no. What I get is mission frigging impossible in the middle of a Beirut hotbed. Iâm the renegade of Operation T-Zone, but this time I swear Iâm gonna do things by the book. That is, until Jade Huntingtonâs involvement in my op causes a brand new snafu.
My tribal name means desperate warrior, and thatâs exactly what I am for reasons I canât outrun. And Jade? Sheâs personal enemy number one. An incredibly sexy one at that. But sheâll never find out just how desperate I am for her.
Iâm not an assassin, even though I am badass. Iâm a protector. Except when it comes to Walker. What I wouldnât give to bore a bullet through his stubborn skull. Weâve been at each otherâs throats for years, this time Iâm determined to leave him in the dust after I shoot a few holes in him.
Weâre forced to work together when Walker practically kidnaps me and my package: the woman Iâm guarding, the target heâs assigned to take out.
Days on the run. Nights of enforced closeness. Fighting side by side. Ever-present danger ignites a desire I canât control. But the endgame is so perilous Walker and I might not make it out alive.
âJUST A LITTLE R&R, he said.â
I listened to Storm grumbling through the industrial sized headgear affixed to my ears, the rotors of the HH-60 Pave Hawk whump-whump-whumping overhead and on the tail.
âExotic location was the phrase I used.â I chuckled low in my chest. âDidnât mention nothinâ about R&R.â
âThought Iâd at least be able to get my jock off without gettinâ my fucking head shot off.â Storm aimed me a look from the pilotâs seat, one sinister black eyebrow raised.
âIâll get you a hooker in Dubai after we get out of this mess.â Unbuckling, I reached over and tapped him on the cheek, ignoring the growl that parted his lips.
In the cargo area of the Sikorsky helicopter, I checked my parachute, the altimeter, the straps of my harness, and my pack filled with all sorts of goodies. I was unofficially Stormâs copilot, but fuck it. The man didnât need me. He could handle the chopper on his own without the usual five-man crew. Heâd have to, because I was getting ready to jump ship in high-altitude, high-opening, full-on fuck-this-shit terror.
Storm snorted, and his deep voice rumbled over the ear-gear. âUnlike you, I donât need to pay for my pussy.â
âNot after that time you caught syphilis, right, Kemosabe?â Ignoring the curses Storm slung my way, I started zipping into my fancy flight suit, checking and double-checking straps, buckles, my bailout O2 line.
Storm stepped into the back with a dip of his head. âRemember what Blaize said about covert mission?â
âThe fuck. Iâm always covert.â I wrapped my arms protectively around the desert camo pack snuggled against my chest like it was a baby in a papoose, because I knew what was coming next.
âHand over the flash bang, Walker.â He opened his palm.
âGoddammit. I feel naked without my C-4. You know that.â
âGimme.â Storm advanced.
âMotherfucker.â I watched while he dexterously unzipped the side pocket of my pack, eagerly snatching the two M112 demolition blocks of putty-white plastic explosives wrapped in a Mylar bundle.
My eyes narrowed. âBlaize is a bitch.â
âHead bitch in charge.â He pleasantly agreed. âBlasting caps? Priming unit?â
I placed both in his hands, my own shaking like a meth head giving up the last of his stash.
Watching hungrily as Storm placed my precious bundles aside, I muttered, âBlaize is definitely a chick with a dick.â Tearing my gaze from my favorite weapons, I grinned. âBitch chick with a dick you got the hots for.â
âIâd rather dip my dick into a vat of boiling oil.â
âLike when you got syphilis? That can be arranged.â
Storm cuffed me on the back of the head. He was just lucky I was trussed up like a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving . . . heh.
Blaize Carmichael was our new hardnosed higher-up at Operation T-Zone. Op T-Z was an organization quite possibly unsanctioned by the PTB of the USA, because they didnât need to know what we did behind enemy lines, in the line of duty.
We werenât military.
We werenât from the CIA Viper Pit.
We werenât Black Ops.
We were darker than that.
Unlike previous operations managers whoâd given years of orders over secure lines and in scrambled codes, Blaize had come on the scene, giving it the personal touch with an up-front team meet-and-greet. Yeah, the womanâs touch in the form of intense head games more mind-fucking than any passive-aggressive wifey could come up with.
By the time sheâd debriefed us with her high-heeled boot up our collective asses, read us the riot act, and nailed us to the wall over every single possible past mistake and mission mishap, Iâd gone home and drunk a bottle of tequila.
Blaize did have nice legs though.
I rubbed my sleeve across the mask of my helmet then peered at Storm . . . then gawped at the cockpit. The empty fucking cockpit.
âWait. Who the fuckâs flying this thing?â I asked.
âAutopilot.â He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
âJerry-rigged autopilot.â His smug smile did not put me at ease.
âI do not want to know.â
âProbably not, but it involves a selfie stick and duct tape andââ
âLa la la . . . I canât hear you.â Jesus Christ. I was gonna die tonight. I just knew it.
RELEASE DATE APRIL 25th
http://amzn.to/1RP2krl <--Preorder at the special price now
From the world of bad boys of Retribution MC comes a deliciously dangerous, scandalously sexy, four part series!
Good girl versus Bad boy. Southern charm comes head-to-head with military grit. They say opposites attract. Thatâs an understatement where Justice and Lawless are concerned.
Letâs face it. Iâve got a bad rep with the ladies. Iâm a rough-talking, smooth-loving, international playboyâyeah right, whateverâand an X-Ops specialist. Sure, Iâm hiding a secret or two. Who isnât? Thatâs the least of my concerns when Iâm called in to lead an infiltrate-and-retrieve mission.
Iâve got my head in the gameâthe one firmly attached to my shoulders. An American embassy overseas is under siege, and Iâm expecting to rescue the ambassador and his daughter, a stereotypical geeky damsel in distress, Matilda Lawless.
Caught in the crossfire between explosive danger and wild desire, Iâm in for the shock of my life.
Iâm not looking for any man to save me. Iâm pretty damn capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. I have a successful career and was practically born and bred on a gun range, even if I canât bake a perfect biscuit to save my life like a good southern woman should.
But thereâs just something about that hardcore operative called Justice. Heâs haunted and lonely, and I know that pain inside and out. It doesnât hurt one little bit heâs been blessed with more than his fair share of good looks, plus a body that would make any red-blooded woman drool.
Barricaded inside the embassy, under my fatherâs shrewd eyes, I intend to have Justice no matter how many times he says heâs not good enough. I see the way he watches me. With dirty, sexy, hungry lust.
Fighting is what Justice does. Now I need him to fight for me.
Warning: Graphic sex, graphic action, graphic language. Triple X caution.
Bad Boys of X-Opsâfour part spring/summer series:
Walker: April 5th (preorder $0.99 now) http://amzn.to/1VQjqVA
Storm: Coming soon
Bane: Coming soon
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Donât Tell seriesâa breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writerâcausing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html