Gambled by Cristin Harber

Author:Cristin Harber
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romantic Suspense, Short Story, married couple, redepemtion, Romance, novella, military romance
Publisher: Mill Creek Press
Published: 2013-09-20T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Not only was Brock passing the concierge desk without his shopping list of fun, he was doing so with his wife in tow on the way to meet a Caribbean arms-dealing friend of a friend. Far from what he wanted to be doing.

He’d never been less prepared for a meet-up in his life. He was the rule follower. The contract enforcer. Whenever Jared had an idea that skirted the line, from questionable to downright illegal, Brock always found a loophole that let them move with a little more leeway.

Now, he didn’t even have a pair of tactical pants. He had on jeans, and his wife wore her longest pair of pants, white capris, and pink tennis shoes. At least he’d been able to secure a decent ride. The black Hummer sat waiting for them outside the resort’s front doors.

He put his hand on the passenger door handle, not opening the door. “You sure about this?”

Sarah gave a resolute head nod. “Yes, more than sure.”

Of course she was… This was an awful idea.

A yank of the door and a lift of his brunette bombshell, and he had her tucked into the passenger seat, giving Sarah her seat belt because it was about the only thing he could do to make this a safe adventure.

He jumped in and gunned it down the pocked road, swerving to miss livestock that wandered without fences and tree limbs that jutted onto the side roads he took toward their sketchy destination. Brock didn’t have one weapon on him. He hadn’t traveled with a sidearm. No stash of Titan accessories were packed in his bag. The only thing he’d nabbed was several steak knives from the restaurant on the way to the Hummer.

“Are you nervous?” Sarah pivoted toward him.

Nervous? No. Not a chance. He’d never been nervous a day in his life. But her little pink tennis shoe bopped on the floor board, and his gut checked his ego.

“Fuck, yes, angel. Nervous about describes how I’m feeling. I don’t like this.” He came to a stop in front of a shack. That the right place? It fit the description he was given. A short, dark-haired man stepped outside the thatched door, matching the specifics Jared had given him. Brock couldn’t see the scar on his face or the dead eyes that Jared had promised, but they were at the right location. “You stay in the car.”

Sarah swiveled in her chair, checking out the surrounding area. Thick, jungle vegetation. Very green. Very loud with the calls of birds and animals. The windows were darkly tinted, and no one could see in, but still, he didn’t want her seen.

Aw, shit. He rubbed his temples. What was the best he could offer right now? Honey, take a steak knife? Christ.

“I can jump out too. I’m not scared.”

She was probably terrified, but that not scared bit was for his sake. She attempted to comfort him. Great. Not feeling his role as a protector in any way right now.

“That’s not the point.

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