She wiped the tears from her cheeks and returned to William’s side. She opened the box to remove the ring and place it on her finger. The diamond sparkled cheerily. She held her hand in the sun to catch the light.
“Well?”
“My answer is yes. I will marry you.”
He let out an excited whoop and lifted her off her feet. They whirled around in a circle. “I love you,” he said, setting her down.
She stroked the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you, too.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
“Since when?”
She thought back, trying to pinpoint the moment. “When you put your arms around me and Ashur to protect us from bullets. I knew then that I would no longer pine for Khalil. You had replaced him in my heart.”
“I don’t expect you to forget him.”
She nodded her understanding.
“Is Ashur coming with us?”
“No. He wants to live here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You are?”
“He’s grown on me.”
“You are a good man, William Hudson.”
“You’re a good woman, Layah Anwar.”
“We are lucky to have found each other.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
She wanted to argue, but he crushed his mouth over hers in a passionate kiss. She kissed him back with relish, her toes curling. They were both lucky. Lucky to have escaped, lucky to have survived, and lucky to start a new life together—forever.
* * * * *
Don’t miss the first TEAM TWELVE story
from Susan Cliff
STRANDED WITH THE NAVY SEAL
Working on a cruise ship was supposed to be the perfect distraction for chef Cady Crenshaw. Instead, it made her the perfect target. Abducted and thrown overboard into foreign waters, she has only one shot at survival...and it comes at the hands of an irresistible ally.
Navy SEAL Logan Starke’s protective instincts were locked and loaded the moment he met Cady at the ship’s bar. When a violent struggle to take down her captors leaves Logan and Cady stranded on a deserted island, he leaps into rescue mode. But the hot sand and the even hotter attraction between them can’t be denied...and temptation could be the deadliest threat yet.
Keep reading for an excerpt from HER ROCKY MOUNTAIN DEFENDER by Jennifer D. Bokal.
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Her Rocky Mountain Defender
by Jennifer D. Bokal
Prologue
Roman DeMarco sat at the table in the kitchen of a cramped studio apartment. Like an ever-present fog, the smell of overcooked eggs crept in from the hallway. In the distance, a baby’s wail pierced the still afternoon. He lifted his weary gaze to the window. The view was of the stained brick building next door. Roman had lived under an alias—Roman Black—paying rent and sleeping in this apartment for almost half of a year, yet this place wasn’t his home.
Turning his gaze back to the table, Roman held up his latest creation. It was a powerful ELD, or electronic listening device. He hit the power button. A small rectangular screen glowed and filled with boxy script. It held two words: Signal Obtained.
During his years as an intelligence officer with Delta Force, Roman had bugged many rooms. But this next target had proved to be uniquely difficult.
As far as Roman was concerned, he loved the challenge. The targeted room—underground and made of concrete—was the first problem. Any signal coming from the room needed to be strong, and using an easily hidden, thumb-size ELD was impossible. It left Roman to fashion his own device. The bug might be larger than he wanted, but the battery should be powerful enough to last fourteen days. Or so he hoped.
“Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three,” he said.
He pressed a small button on the side. His words were replayed. “Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three.”
He turned the device over and examined the back. Two powerful magnets lined each side of the ELD. He moved to his refrigerator and held out the black box. Like a live thing, the magnets pulled, and the ELD wiggled in his grasp. He let go and it sailed an inch from his hand, connecting with the appliance’s metal casing. He smiled to himself. If things went as planned, Roman was about to reclaim his former life.
It couldn’t come a day too soon.
Chapter 1
Boulder, Colorado.
9:45 PM
May 5
“There you go,” Roman DeMarco said. He poured whiskey into a shot glass and slid the drink to a customer. Moving to the next person, he cast his gaze at the room. It was still early in the evening, but more than two dozen patrons filled The Prow.
No, patron wasn’t the right word; it gave the bar an air of respectability it didn’t deserve. This place was the last stop on a person’s long, downhill slide to the gutter. Only a few recessed lights over the bar illuminated the windowless room. The smell of stale beer, body odor and desperation hung in the air. The constant thump, thump, thump of a rock song pounded through the stereo system, the bass so deep that the sticky floor reverberated with the chords. The occasional cackle of drunken laughter cut through the music—the sound more manic than merry.
Singles hunched protectively over their drinks, while couples cast
