Chapter One
Dean Gregory, code name Dagger, only had himself to blame for being back on Key West, even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t come back unless the military sent him. His last visit to the island had shaken him to the core and the memories still haunted him. But his pride had once again stomped on his common sense, leaving said common sense little more than a whimpering pile of pulp at the back of his skull.
The moment his buddies had doubted his friendship with Brice Benson, Hollywood’s current “it” actor, Dagger’s pride had flipped the switch in his head from cool and collected to just plain stupid. Right then and there in the middle of the barrack mess hall, he had called Brice and put the two-time Oscar nominee on speaker phone for everyone to hear.
Reflecting upon his act of extreme idiocy, Dagger tightened his grip on the steering wheel of his friend’s cherry red 1957 Corvette convertible as he turned onto Truman Avenue, Key West’s main drag. Of course, Brice had offered his mansion on the island to a bunch of Navy SEALs looking for a place to blow off some steam for a few days. The man was nothing if not a chest-thumping, dyed in the wool American who loved the military.
“Take my house, guys. I’ll be in Spain for two weeks, so the place will be sitting empty. There’s plenty of room, plus the boat, the jet skies, and the cars. Have at it guys.” Dagger swung his arm in front of his chest imitating a boy scout’s atta-boy as he finished mimicking Brice’s enthusiastic invitation.
Had that been the end of his conversation with Brice, things still would have been fine. He and six of his SEAL buds could hit the island, relax, and maybe find some hot local girls to curl up next to at night. Most importantly, he’d have some down time to contemplate his future and make some important decisions about his life. But when he had taken his best friend off speaker for a personal chat, Brice had dropped the bomb.
“Check in on Mia, Dagger. She’s still working at Butch’s marina and living alone in our parents’ house on the island. I’m sure she’s fine, but I can’t help worry about her.”
Brice’s request, simple as it may have sounded, had twisted Dagger’s belly into a dozen knots. Not out of concern for Mia Benson. Oh, hell no. That annoying little brainiac was too smart to get into any trouble, or at least get caught. Most likely her job at the marina was a covert cover for her real plans to somehow take over the entire island and make it her personal kingdom. Soon everyone on Key West would be shouting, “Hail, Mia” at the top of their lungs.
No. Seeing Mia again was a bad idea for very personal reasons.
Three years ago when he’d last seen her in the Keys, he damn near got blue balls for wanting her so badly. Luckily, she’d opened her sensual, though incredibly exasperating mouth. Sure, he could have easily stopped her provoking comments by kissing her. But, there were lines between him and Brice, invisible and unspoken lines, he wouldn’t cross.
Having an all night sex-a-thon and doing it in every room in the house as well as the car and the back yard with his best friend’s sister was definitely one of those lines. When the line was crossed, it could never be uncrossed. The deed would be done. Brice’s friendship meant far too much to jeopardize for a chance to tap Mia’s ass, no matter how cotton candy sweet it looked in a pair of jeans.
You keep telling yourself and the world that Brice is what’s keeping you from Mia. Eventually even you’ll start to believe that whopper of a lie.
Unfortunately, after knowing the red-headed know-it-all for twenty years, the pot simmering with both aggravation and craving for her was coming to a boil. The things he wanted to do to her, the things that kept him up at night, were enough to make him insane. If he didn’t end up wringing her neck from pure irritation from just talking to her, he’d have her over his shoulder
John Sandford
Don Perrin
Judith Arnold
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Jim Butcher
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Joan Kilby
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