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  Unfortunately, the next thing he heard wasn’t a chorus of angelic approval, but Al Duffy’s scratchy voice.

  “No more mopin’ around. You hear, boy? Ain’t dignified for a man to be so depressed about a woman who can’t even cook.”

  LATER, LONG AFTER DINNER and sunset, Malina lay in the master cabin’s bed, her head pillowed on Carr’s bare chest just as she had the first time they’d been together.

  That night the sea had undulated beneath them, rocking them in a steady cradle of contentment, even as she’d convinced herself she was simply releasing stress from her demanding job. Tonight, the waves continued their relentless motion, and she was completely different.

  She could finally appreciate fulfillment with the love of her life. She didn’t have the constant drive to wonder what professional challenge might be over the next horizon. She didn’t worry about what compromise might cost her.

  At last she understood her mother’s internal peace.

  Still, she wasn’t her mother in many ways.

  She turned on her side and propped her head in her hand. “I still think Al Duffy was being difficult, not—as you so innocently believe—trying to get us together.”

  He mirrored her pose. “It seems imminently obvious that he saw you, worried you wouldn’t stay long enough for me to see you, knew how much I needed to see you, so he took matters into his own hands. Drastic matters maybe, but still pure of heart.”

  She snorted in derision. “Oh, please.”

  “You two are going to have to find a peaceful middle ground eventually. Al’s a good guy down deep.”

  “Way down.”

  “Maybe so, but he does know everything about this area. He can navigate through these waters, under any weather conditions, with his eyes closed.”

  “I can shoot accurately with my eyes closed. Who’d you rather have in a fight?”

  He paused. “I think you’ve won your argument, Agent.”

  “Of course, I have. But do you know what became of Simone Anderson?”

  “The abrupt segue of the day award goes to…”

  She slapped his chest lightly. “Come on, Simone Anderson.”

  His eyes darkened with regret. “She was my client for the case against Nelson Chemicals. Most of her family was poisoned by the runoff water from their plant.”

  “You remember her?”

  “I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands the last week. You might say I took a walk down memory lane.”

  “And did your stroll reveal where she is today?”

  “No.” He slid his hand across her hip, drawing her closer and confirming what she’d thought—he was afraid to know too much. Another case like Bailey Industries was too painful to face.

  “Simone works for an international peace organization that strives to eliminate river and stream chemical poisoning produced by industrial plants in third-world countries.”

  Carr went still, then shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “She what?”

  “You heard me. She credits you with opening her eyes to the neglectful policies that run rampant in countries without a legitimate legal system. How about Bruce Carmandy?”

  “Who? I—” He stopped, and Malina could clearly see his brain straining to switch gears. “He was paralyzed by a bus hitting him on Seventh Avenue in New York City.”

  “By a bus driver who had a serious history of drug abuse. With his settlement money from the city, Carmandy got a great apartment overlooking the East River and paid for the driver to go through rehab yet again. Apparently the treatment stuck this time. The two men started a company that builds motorized wheelchairs.”

  His eyes full of wonder, Carr stared at her. “How did you find out all this?”

  “I investigated. I’m highly trained, you know.”

  “I know. But why?”

  “To show you that your debt is paid. You don’t have to redeem yourself anymore. You’ve made mistakes, but the good completely outweighs the bad.” She slid her fingers through his silky hair, letting her gaze rove his beloved features. Beaches, oceans and sunsets included, she’d never tire of that view. “You’re a great man. Not just in my eyes, but many others.”

  “Thank you.” As she felt a deep breath of relief escape his chest, he kissed her lips, then trailed his mouth along her jaw.

  Carnal sensations that had shifted briefly into dormancy reasserted themselves. She inhaled his sandalwood-scented cologne and knew this was the place she belonged for the rest of her life.

  “Is this ‘you’re redeemed’ thing just a ploy to keep me from butting into your cases?” he whispered between kisses.

  “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it might incriminate me.”

  He held her tightly against him. “I love you.”

  “Same goes, Counselor. Same goes.”

  Karen Foley

  HOT-BLOODED

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Anbar Province, Iraq

  THE SPIT of machine-gun fire and the acrid stench of burning oil and scorched metal filled the air. First Sergeant Chase McCormick surveyed the battle through a pair of high-optic binoculars from his perch atop an armored Humvee. He and his special ops team had just extracted a pair of Marine snipers from a site twenty miles away when they’d received reports of a large U.S. supply convoy traveling through the dangerous Anbar province. They’d immediately made a detour to intercept the convoy and escort them through the region, but they’d arrived too late.

  Insurgents, hidden in an orchard on one side of the dusty road and in a crudely dug trench on the other, had attacked the convoy, which was now taking heavy fire from both sides. Chase had to give the truck drivers credit; along with their security detail, they were some tough sons of bitches and were holding their own.

  Despite the fact the insurgents had managed to destroy two Humvees and the lead supply truck, their small-arms fire was mostly inaccurate and ineffectual. Chase had seen enough combat to know that this battle would be over shortly, but the entire scenario had him pissed off on a level so deep that he had to shut that part of himself down or risk losing his focus on the immediate mission.

  While Al-Qaeda had, for the most part, been neutralized in the Anbar province, there were still pockets of rebellion and several attacks on the U.S. troops had occurred in recent weeks. Chase had received intel reports that the insurgents were hiding twenty miles to the north, where the sniper team had been conducting reconnaissance for the past five days. But in reality they had been here, digging their damned trenches and stockpiling their IEDs and rocket-propelled grenades.

  As he watched, a driver exited one of the supply vehicles. Chase saw she was female, and she was aiming her weapon at the tree line, focused on some hidden tar get that even Chase couldn’t see. In the next instant a second soldier, who up until that moment had been manning a fifty-caliber gun mounted on top of one of the convoy’s gun trucks, abruptly abandoned his position and swung to the ground, apparently intent on intercepting and protecting the woman.

  “Son of a bitch,” Chase muttered beneath his breath, and swung his gun around to cover the man. Didn’t he realize his best option for protecting the girl was to stay with his weapon?

  As the soldier sprinted toward the woman, he took a direct hit from the assailant hidden in the trees, and went down on his knees before pitching face forward onto the ground. Chase swept the tree line with machine-gun fire, but was forced to stop when the female soldier stepped directly into his sights. She shouldered her weapon and bent to drag the wounded man to safety,
and Chase reluctantly admired her guts even as he cursed her lack of self-preservation. She was completely vulnerable, and it seemed he was the only one who realized it.

  Well, not the only one.

  A shadow moved in the trees behind her, but before he could lock his sights on the target, the girl blocked his shot. Cursing, he shifted to a better position, when he saw the flash of a muzzle blast from the trees. The female soldier jerked once and then fell forward, covering the other soldier’s body with her own and providing Chase with an unobstructed view of where the insurgent hid.

  Only the man was no longer there.

  Peering through the scope on his gun, Chase surveyed the area and saw the target lying in the grass beside a tree. He’d taken a direct hit, and Chase could see that he no longer posed a threat to anyone. He didn’t need to guess who had eliminated the target; only the sniper team on the far ridge could have made such a difficult shot.

  He swept his rifle scope over the two fallen soldiers to see that the female had risen to her knees. After briefly examining a wound to her shoulder, she bent over and began doggedly dragging her unconscious buddy across the ground to the relative safety of the trucks. Chase continued to provide cover, although he knew the sniper team was probably covering her, as well.

  As much as he admired the woman for her bravery, Chase could have cheerfully shaken her. If she hadn’t left the safety of her truck, then the gunner wouldn’t have felt the need to abandon his own post in order to protect her, and neither of them would now be injured.

  Women. He snorted in disgust.

  He came from a long and distinguished line of military service, but there was one main reason he’d opted to join the Marine Corps special-operations command: they didn’t allow females into their ranks.

  He’d always maintained that women had no place in combat, an opinion that had less to do with their ability to do the job and more to do with the inability of their male counterparts to handle them doing the job. He’d seen hardened soldiers go soft and throw years of training and protocol out the window in order to protect a female soldier, or help her to complete a task that she could have handled on her own.

  He had no idea if the gunner and the female soldier knew each other, but suspected there was some kind of romantic involvement. There usually was. The only thing worse than fighting alongside a female was fighting alongside one that you were also screwing, especially if you were fool enough to let it become about more than just sex. Nothing worse than letting a woman get under your skin.

  The behavior he’d just witnessed only reinforced his belief that women shouldn’t be placed in combat situations. He was convinced that if the female soldier had been a man, the gunner never would have abandoned his post. He’d have used his turret gun to cover her, the way he’d been trained to do.

  Chase couldn’t imagine losing control simply because a soldier was female. He prided himself on his ability to remain focused and make sound decisions, even under adverse conditions. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he’d never let a woman make him drop his guard on the battlefield. Or in the bedroom.

  1

  “IF YOU ASK ME, sex is overrated. I’ll admit that it’s pleasant, but earth-shattering? Not even close. Frankly, I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” Elena de la Vega arched a challenging eyebrow at her sister before taking a sip of her white wine.

  “That’s because you haven’t had sex with the right guy,” Carmen replied with a secretive gleam in her eyes. “Yet.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” Elena scoffed, telling herself she didn’t feel the tiniest bit jealous of the self-satisfied smile on Carmen’s face. “Am I really supposed to believe that every time you and Nick get it on, he makes your toes curl with lust?”

  Carmen set her martini down and leaned across the small table they shared, glancing quickly around to ensure none of the other patrons at the cozy sidewalk café could overhear their conversation. “Let’s just say that Nick has a talent for making each time seem like the first time. You know, incredibly arousing. Exciting. Like I’m the hottest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. The way he looks at me, and the things he does.” Her expression took on a dreamy quality.

  Elena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ll take your word for it. Nick may be great in bed, but he’s also incredibly jealous. I couldn’t be with a guy like that.”

  Carmen’s smile grew wider. “Nick just wants other guys to know I’m with him. So what if he glowers a little bit, or likes to stay close to me when we’re out together? At least he doesn’t ignore me. I’m a happy, satisfied woman. Can you say the same?”

  Elena thought of her own boyfriend, Larry, and a small sigh escaped her. He wasn’t physically impressive, like Carmen’s Nick was, but he was smart and considerate. They’d worked in the same office together for three years and Elena had a lot of respect for him. Larry was a conscientious man who took his job as a cost auditor for the Defense Procurement Agency seriously. He was brilliant when it came to numbers. Elena told herself again that she didn’t mind if he worked long hours, or that he chose to spend most Saturdays in the office rather than with her. He treated her well, and when they did go out, he was a pleasant companion. Their typical routine was to catch a movie or a bite to eat, and then return to her apartment where he could be counted on to give her a very nice orgasm. Not an earth-shattering, body-clenching, toe-curling orgasm, but a nice one all the same.

  “Larry is reliable,” she finally said, but didn’t meet her sister’s knowing eyes. Instead, she trailed the tip of her finger around the edge of her wineglass. “I know what to expect with Larry. We get together on Wednesday and Saturday nights, and if our love life is a little…predictable, then who I am to complain?” She raised her gaze to Carmen’s. “I actually prefer it that way.”

  “What way?” asked Carmen archly. “Flat on your back, making all the right noises so that he feels like a real man, while you just wish he’d hurry up and finish?”

  Elena stared at her sister, amazed. “How did—? No, wait. It isn’t like that.”

  “Isn’t it? Don’t forget, you’re the one who dubbed him Old Faithful. As in…he’s predictable and lasts less than two minutes.”

  Elena groaned and took a hefty swig of her wine. “That’s not fair. I was a little tipsy that night and said more than I should have. You’re taking it out of context. I dubbed him Old Faithful because he’s, well, dependable. Trustworthy. Faithful. All good traits for a man to have.”

  “Or a dog,” Carmen muttered. Then, seeing Elena’s expression, she was instantly contrite. “I agree with you. Absolutely. Those are all good qualities for a man to have, but they shouldn’t be his only qualities. He should make your insides turn to mush and your pulse quicken just thinking about him.” Her expression grew earnest. “Please tell me you’re not going to marry this guy, Elena. You deserve so much more. Every woman should have one great passion in her life. Don’t settle for mediocrity.”

  “He hasn’t asked me to marry him yet,” Elena grumbled. “And I said our love life is predictable, not mediocre.”

  “Oh, come on,” Carmen scoffed, and sat back in her chair. “Your boyfriend is boring. Your life is boring. When was the last time you did something exciting? Something that made your heart pound and your mouth go dry?” She leaned forward again. “You’re almost thirty, Elena, and yet you’ve never done any of the wacky things that most people do when they’re in their twenties. Nick and I had sex on the roof of his building last night, under the stars. It was amazing.”

  “Nick’s rooftop garden is amazing,” Elena said drily, ignoring her sister’s jabs. “I’m sure you’re not the first girl he’s brought up there.”

  Carmen narrowed her eyes. “So what if I’m not the first? I’ll be the last.”

  Elena shrugged. “Well, it’s your heart. Risk it if you want to.”

  “See? That’s my whole point. You’re not willing to take any risks, Elena. You’d rather settle for safe and boring t
han take a chance on something exciting. Something that could change your life.” She shook her head in mock sadness. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

  Elena dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin before folding it neatly beside her plate, silently counting to ten. She refused to be baited.

  “I don’t feel as if I’m settling,” she finally said, hoping that she sounded convincing. “And not everyone wants that kind of excitement in their life, Carmen. I’ve watched what great passion has done to Mom and Dad, and even to you.” She fished in her pocketbook for some money and carefully placed several bills on the table. “I don’t want that kind of chaos in my life. Larry is kind and considerate and I always know exactly what to expect from him. I’m happy with what I have.” Seeing the disbelief on her sister’s face, she stood up. “Really, I am. Look, I have to go. Thanks for lunch. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  As she walked to her car, Elena refused to feel guilty for prematurely ending their lunch. The whole thing was Carmen’s fault, anyway. It seemed every time they got together, the conversation turned to Elena’s love life. Neither of her two sisters could understand Larry’s appeal, but they didn’t know him the way Elena did. Admittedly, he wasn’t adventurous in bed, but so what? Not everyone was into that kinky stuff, as Larry put it. And any therapist worth his salt would tell you that a successful relationship should be based on trust and mutual respect. Not sex.

  Never sex.

  All she had to do was look at her family for proof. Given the choice between a life of calm predictability or the blood-pounding, roof-raising drama that seemed to accompany her parents and her siblings wherever they went, Elena preferred the former.

  She always would.