The Omega Team: Spurs (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Kate Richards Page B

enough for all of you. I’ll heal as fast as possible.”
    “Your girlfriend?” she squeaked. “I don’t think I agreed to be anyone’s girlfriend.”
    He took her hand. “Please, Isbet. Stick around. We’ll get to know one another, see where we go. Give us a chance.”
    Her eyes filled with tears. “You need someone better than me. Someone prettier, maybe blonde…someone who will always put you first. Last night…what if you’d died? I should have said no and made you rest.”
    He pulled her to him and embraced her. “There is nobody better than you. Nobody prettier, and I don’t want a blonde. I want a feisty former secret agent who loves me.”
    She spluttered. “I never said I was—”
    His lips descended on hers, and he lifted her and strode out of the room. As they mounted the stairs, her voice carried down, protesting his hurting himself.
    “Grey,” Carson said, “I think you can call us an Omega family now. See you next week.”
     

 
An Excerpt from The Soviet Connection by Kate Richards

Chapter One
     
    Carson Ames clicked a button on the dash of his brand shiny new car. The windshield wipers clicked on, swishing back and forth as he cursed under his breath. For a man who took advantage of high-tech equipment in his work every day, he had one heck of a time accustoming himself to a new vehicle. Punching at the dash, he finally found the button that answered the phone.
    The assignment he’d just completed had about kicked his butt. Being the temporary second bodyguard to a young lady from a foreign royal family who convinced her doting daddy to allow her to try out spring break with her US college roommates had held even less charm than he’d anticipated. However, it was difficult to say no to the incredible fee he’d been paid.
    “Grey. I’m just leaving the airport, what’s up?”
    “Turn around. We need you to hop a plane out again.” Grey Holden, his boss and one of the owners of The Omega Team spoke in clipped tones, and Carson bit back an argument. He hadn’t even had a chance to get home. Not that his one bedroom apartment in a building next to the beach, but in which his faced the narrow alley to the side, offered much appeal. But he would have liked clean shorts.
    “No time for laundry, huh? I need to rinse out my delicates.” He could have said a lot more—could have informed his boss he’d never again accept any assignment involving a bevy of college girls who were determined to break every rule in their sheltered lives. He’d had less hazardous missions in Special Forces. Certainly less demeaning. But the more irritating details of the past week would be better relayed in person. Over a cold beer. He had been in constant contact with the office when things went south, but the girl and all her friends had left the day before on their way back to the college of their choice, none the worse for wear, never even knowing about the attempted kidnapping he’d prevented.
    Her daddy knew. The bonus he’d insisted upon paying would go some way to allaying the annoyance factor. But next year, if the assignment came up again, he’d refuse it. A guy had to have some dignity.
    “Buy some shorts and put them on your expense report.” A voice in the background murmured, and Grey chuckled. “Athena says make sure they are 100 percent cotton. It wicks away moisture better.”
    “Very helpful.” He pulled a U-turn at an illegal but, at two in the morning, empty section of highway. “What airlines?”
    “Guess.” Fuck.
    “Not again. Why didn’t you stop me before I flew all the way back here on that puddle jumper your buddy calls a plane? It’s not the most comfortable ride in high winds. There’s a hurricane in the Atlantic, in case you’ve been too busy working to listen to the news.” He bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. Grey was a tolerant boss but still his boss. And he’d been grateful enough to find a home in the Florida firm after walking away from a