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  Copyright © 2018 by Lea Griffith

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Paul Stinson

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Prologue

  The room was hot and humid, the scent of lovemaking a blanket on the air. Beyond the sliding glass door, waves crashed against the sand, and gulls screamed. Inside, moans and sighs, groans and hisses echoed. The bed creaked, and the headboard banged occasionally against the wooden walls. It was a symphony that serenaded and affirmed.

  The single fan twirling lazily above the bed did nothing to cool the sweat coating Jude’s body, and as his skin touched hers, they seemed to meld. Becoming one with her was what he’d begun to live for. Everything found its place when he was inside her body.

  Her gray eyes widened, the depth of their clarity sucking him in, not allowing him a breath, stealing it all.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Always,” he replied, and even he heard the conviction, the ownership, in his response.

  Jude pressed forward; her body accepted. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He pushed even deeper, rotating his hips. She bit her lip. He sucked that lip between his own and laved it with his tongue. Her flavor exploded over his taste buds…Ella.

  He rose up on his hands, angling his hips for maximum impact. Her tiny body was flushed, nipples beaded, eyes bright. He’d watched her come many times, yet every one was brand new. Something about this woman made Jude feel brand new.

  “Please,” she pleaded. He held off release for them both, savoring her and the unique bond between them.

  She tightened beneath him, hips lifting to meet his heavy thrusts. Every squeeze of her internal muscles had his eyes crossing. Harder, deeper, faster—it wasn’t a race, yet he felt the end closing in. Too soon, he thought. It’s too soon.

  But her need called to him, and the rush to meet it was a pounding in his blood, a drumbeat in his ears.

  “Yes,” he responded savagely.

  He rose on his knees, grabbing her thighs and locking her to him, allowing only enough room to withdraw and return. He looked up to the fan, the blades’ circular motion a beacon. He couldn’t hold off. His gaze lowered to her—his siren. Every step he took, he took for her.

  The base of his spine tingled, and his cock flexed. Her pussy clamped down on his shaft, and her mouth opened on a wordless scream.

  “Take all of me, Ella,” he demanded reverently.

  And she did. She pulled him with her, taking every last molecule of breath and release, taking more than he’d ever agreed to give up. But it was okay.

  Jude stayed locked inside her body until the sweat began to cool. He stared down at her. She gazed back up at him. A slow smile curved her bow mouth, and his cock responded.

  “You’re a lusty one, aren’t you?” she teased him.

  Jude grunted and pulled out of her carefully. They didn’t use condoms. She was on some contraceptive shot, and because of their jobs, they both had regular checkups and stayed clean as whistles. Jude acknowledged that the thought of her being pregnant with his child didn’t make his heart seize in fear. It did the exact opposite. He shook his head as he lowered her legs and came down beside her. Being inside her was as close to heaven as Jude would ever fly.

  She rolled over, and he curved around her. It was still hot, still humid, but he needed her against him. He no longer questioned that need. Like his lungs required breath, his body called for hers.

  “You’re wheels up tomorrow?” she asked.

  The sound of her voice made his heart beat heavier. Every single thing about Ella Banning made Jude want to be a better man. Made him want to rise above the things he’d seen and done and just be—better.

  “Yeah, baby. Zero dark thirty,” he said and then pressed a kiss on her shoulder.

  “I’m logistics point on this mission, Jude. That means I’ll be at base. I won’t be there to watch your six.”

  He snorted and ran a hand down her side, over her hip, and back up again to cup her breast. “You’re my light in the darkness, Ella,” he said solemnly. “You’re always with me.”

  Her breath hissed in, and she turned in the circle of his arms. Her body molded to his, her softness conforming to his hardness. It was an ecstasy all its own. Her fingers traced the planes of his face, across his eyebrows and over the bump in the bridge of his nose. It’d been broken at least four times, possibly more. Ella didn’t seem to mind that Jude was an ugly motherfucker. Nope, his woman found beauty in the face of the worst hells.

  Her gaze met his. “You are mine, Jude. You come home to me.”

  Some nameless emotion swirled in the depths of her blue-gray orbs. “Hey, what’s this about?” he asked as he ran the back of a finger down her cheek.

  She veiled her eyes, and his heart stuttered. She was worried. Damn. He hated that. “I would move heaven and earth to get back to you, Ella. Stop it,” he murmured at her lips.

  “You can’t control everything,” she whispered.

  “This is me…who I am. Hell, it’s you. We knew what this was when we signed up for it.” The reminder had her stiffening.

  She pulled away from him and got off the bed, pulling the top sheet with her and wrapping it around her slight frame. She made he
r way to the sliding glass door and stepped onto the deck.

  He’d bought this tiny house on the beach the day after he’d first made love to Ella. Two hours away from Endgame Ops’ base of operations in Port Royal, Virginia, Jude had wanted a house they could escape to. They both loved the ocean, so he’d bought this.

  She stared out over the waves kissing the lips of the beach not even a hundred yards from them. He stepped behind her and enfolded her in his arms. He couldn’t be this close to her and not have her against him. It was even becoming difficult when they pulled missions together. They always maintained professionalism—but yeah, it was getting hard to avoid the small touches that eased him.

  King had mentioned his concerns in a meeting a week ago. Jude had reassured his leader that he was a soldier—cast in the mold—and Ella was an absolute professional. King reminded him they were also human and therefore subject to all the frailties inherent to that condition.

  Jude wondered now if that was why Ella was pulling logistical support at base while Jude ventured to Beirut with the team.

  “He pulled me off the ground op for this one,” Ella said softly.

  She’d read his mind. Jude sighed and settled his chin on top of her head. She relaxed back into him, and the band around his chest eased somewhat. “Nah, he just knows you’re a whiz with tech logistics and this mission’s FUBAR potential, while not high, is still there. We’ll need your expertise if sugar goes to shit.”

  “Great sentiment, Jude, and yeah, I know where my skill set is the strongest, but I need to be there at your back,” she said.

  A chill skated through Jude at the urgency in her tone.

  “It’s simple: go in, blow shit sky-high, and we’re out. I’ll be fine. Hell, we’ll all be fine. Plus, I have you to come home to,” he said and pressed his lips to the soft flesh of her neck. “I’ll have you in my ear the whole time. And then I’ll have you in my arms when I come home.”

  “Yeah,” she said as she turned and rested her head on his heart. “You will.”

  He held her for a few more minutes, soaking in the setting sun throwing golden sparks over the writhing blue of the Atlantic. When darkness finally began to creep in, he guided Ella back inside, removed the sheet, and kissed her from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. He made her back arch and her breath break, and then he started all over.

  And when it was time to leave the next morning, he nuzzled her cheek, kissed her lips, breathed her in, and left.

  * * *

  Six hours later

  “Hey, Keeper, I heard your mama’s in town,” Micah Samson called across the room.

  Jude let his smile show his teeth. “We ain’t talking about my mama, dude.” Micah was as good as they came—solid, straight shooter, and strong. He was probably the best friend Jude had, but he loved to jack with Jude about his mama.

  Micah laughed. It was a strange sound coming from the big man. Strange enough it made Jude bark out a laugh too, even though the topic of his mama wasn’t funny at all.

  Brody Madoc grunted. “Not sure if you know this, Keeper, but Micah doesn’t want to talk about your mama.”

  Harrison Black—the crazy ex-SAS officer who’d come into Endgame right after he left his country’s service—followed up on Brody’s comment by making a kissing noise. It was designed to piss Jude off. It did, but not for the reason Black thought.

  “That’s right, Keeper. I wanna give your mama a little sugar,” Micah said with another laugh and a wink. Even though his best friend teased him, something had been off with Micah for a few weeks. A darkness filled his eyes, tension rode his shoulders, and he’d been distant. Jude would take him out for a beer when they got back and ask him what was up.

  But he couldn’t let the teasing go without a pop of his neck and a glare, giving them all his patented shut-the-hell-up look. Why he bothered, he had no idea. It never worked. “Seriously, man, stop talking about my mama.”

  Jude didn’t even like acknowledging he had a mother, much less having his teammates talk shit about her. She’d once been the light of his meager family, but then she’d abandoned him for a career in, of all things, Mexican soap operas. Becoming famous in her home country had been more important than her son. And yeah, there was a whole story there that Micah knew well and Jude sure as hell didn’t want to dwell on, so he turned his mind to this mission’s spec ops and tried to drown out the sound of Rook Granger and Jonah Knight joining in on the amusement. Even though this wasn’t Jude’s favorite subject, the tension in the room eased with the men’s laughter.

  A shrill whistle sounded in the bunker room, and Jude sought out the source. What met his eyes was Ella striding confidently into the war room like she owned it. And there went the tension—right back through Jude’s roof.

  “Ella-Bella got called up, huh?” Chase Reynolds’s voice was loud in the sudden silence.

  She smiled at the man, and Jude’s hands clenched. Her smiles were his. Not Reynolds’s. Chase was his brother-in-arms, his teammate, but he’d drop the man with a punch to the throat if he didn’t stop ogling Ella’s ass.

  “What are you doing here?” Jude asked and almost winced at the harshness of his voice.

  She speared him with her gaze.

  “She got the call. Nina can’t ride because she’s sick, maybe food poisoning,” King McNally said from the doorway to his office before Ella could respond.

  Jude met his leader’s eyes and let his frustration communicate along the path between them. King shrugged, but there was zero apology. Each of the men and women of Endgame had been hand-selected for their various talents. So while Jude may hate the fact that his woman was going to be in harm’s way, there wasn’t shit he could do about it. This wasn’t his kingdom. He was simply a member of the king’s court.

  So he lowered his eyes and went back to making sure his jump bag was ready. They were taking off in a few minutes for DC. From there, it would take them roughly twelve hours to make it to Israel and then on to Beirut.

  “You okay?” Ella’s soft voice tickled his ears and made his dick harden behind his cargo pants.

  “Yep,” he responded in a clipped tone.

  She didn’t say anything else. Goddamn, he hated when she was near danger.

  He felt her staring at him, but he had to shut it down. If he kept her in the forefront of his mind, the chance he could fuck up and put her further in danger increased. It took a will of iron, but he’d been honed in the fires of BUD/S training. They called him Keeper because that’s what he did. He kept his calm in the midst of danger and kept his team safe. And Ella was a part of that team—albeit the most important, but she was still team. And he’d not treat her any differently than he would the other men heading out with them.

  He’d at least try.

  He put his bag over his shoulder and stood straight, staring at her across the bunker until her gaze rose to meet his.

  “Safe, Ella,” he said with force. They were the only words he’d take her on this mission with. He wouldn’t speak to her the same way they did at the house on the beach; it would be spec ops only.

  She held up six fingers. “I’ve got your six,” she said in an equally hard voice. Then she smiled and ruined the effect. His Ella was softness incarnate.

  He nodded, and the men around them didn’t acknowledge the interaction between him and Ella. They knew better. Hell, he’d almost kicked Chase’s ass a few weeks ago for daring to bring it up. Jude wouldn’t have her embarrassed. If this were a regular branch of the service, they’d have been discharged months ago for fraternization.

  “Wheels up, men,” King ordered.

  They piled into the C-130 transport plane, and as they rose and their view of the ground grew fainter, an eerie feeling swept over Jude. He pushed it down and chalked it up to the fears his woman had voiced last night. He glanced at her and found her staring at him.<
br />
  As the feeling wound its way through his mind, he let her gaze center him. He’d never give in to the doubts. He couldn’t afford to. He was a soldier and, as such, dealt in possibilities and outcomes. He knew there was always the possibility he wouldn’t come home, and accepting that brought calm in the midst of every storm. Still the feeling persisted, raising the hair on the back of his neck and not letting him go.

  In thoughts of all the potential outcomes, he allowed a single assertion to keep him moving forward. She was his, and he would do his job on this mission to ensure that nothing was allowed to harm her.

  Nothing.

  He rested his head against the hard metal bowels of the plane, needing some sleep before they hit their target. When he opened his eyes again, they were landing at an Israeli airfield. Endgame was a private entity, providing security for contractors and military personnel alike on the ground throughout the world. In reality, they were black ops, always working in the undefined gray. They took the missions the United States couldn’t—traversed some of the worst hellholes the United States couldn’t send their military personnel into.

  They were hidden from the public behind the persona of a military contractor, doing the things that needed to be done but couldn’t be admitted. Because of their founder, a man known as the Piper because he pulled the strings, they had access to military installations the world over, and they had access to allies of the United States. Hence the C-130 and the Israeli airfield.

  Once they disembarked, they checked their weapons, went over mission spec ops once more, and boarded a Black Hawk helicopter. The feeling Jude had had when they’d left the States had dissipated.

  Ella was seated beside their team leader. Kingston McNally was a fine soldier and an even better leader. He’d pulled Jude out of a bad situation in Syria last year and had had his loyalty ever since. Not that he hadn’t had it before, but there was something about having your ass saved that engendered lifelong fealty to your savior.

  And still Jude loved jacking with his team leader. “Oh, Your Hiiiighness…”

  King flipped him off and kept his head tilted back against the wall of the bird. Jude let his laugh escape on a rough bark. King was a tough son of a bitch, but he hated helicopters. It was a source of much laughter among his men.