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Prologue
Looking down from a thousand feet above, his parachute extending as the wind set him farther to the right than anticipated. The thrill of flying no longer so thrilling, as his landing zone erupted in an explosion of flames. Dread ceased to make his heart stop beating. A commando well trained, devoted, and ready to die for his country while protecting it.
Garrett McCallister watched in horror as his fellow troop member Brian landed in the sea of red. A few moments later, Garrett hit the flames, bounced along the hard surface of ground, and met his fate. On instinct he drew back his parachute, disconnected the nylon, and pulled for his weapon. He turned to the right and then to the left, picking up the shadows of his fellow commandoes. Rapid gunfire echoed around them and they scattered for cover. He was in survival mode as he shot into the group of enemy soldiers firing upon him. An even larger explosion erupted behind him as the HALO that was sent to assist exploded at the hands of a land-to-air missile.
He heard his buddies’ tortured screams as shrapnel scattered around them. The instant pain in his thigh then the sight of the enemy moving toward him indicated he was as good as dead.
He could hear Colt radio in for air support and he knew he needed to provide cover for his friend. Pulling out his automatic weapon he began to light up the area around them, ultimately taking out the enemy soldiers. As the fires raged and the smoke nearly halted any capability of relocating, he saw three of his buddies being captured.
Behind him he heard Colt say that help was on its way. Three minutes.
Filled with pain, but knowing his men needed his assistance, Garrett pushed up, ignoring the sight of torn flesh and blood on his thigh, and allowed the adrenaline rush to power his move. He ran through the stream of fire for a better shot and took out the men who were beginning to torture his troops.
Firing rapidly into the group, he took them out then ran to assist his soldiers. He could hear men yelling, saying something in a different language through the smoke farther toward the trees. Just as he thought that they wouldn’t survive and that he had done all he could to stay alive, the distinct sound of air support filled the evening sky. They were coming. They were going to make it out alive. This mission was not going to be his last.
Garrett awoke in a sweat, drenched through his sheets, tossing and turning as he gasped for breath. He could practically taste the smoke and gasoline burning his throat. He sat up, letting his legs hang off the side of the bed as he held his face in his hands. His joints and muscles ached. He was in
great physical condition, but the years of jumping out of planes, hand-to-hand combats, repelling assaults, and amphibious landings had taken a toll on his body. Thirty and limping around like a fucking invalid pissed him off. Almost as much as these fucking nightmares. Having to relive that night of his last mission as a commando was driving him mad. His attitude sucked. He hated his fucking situation and he disliked having to play polite in the family business. Knowing his brothers, Wes and Gunner or Gunny, like he and his family called Gunner, had ended their military careers, too, gave him piece of mind. But they had taken on other jobs. Gunny was a local Texas Ranger and Wes was an assistant head coach for the local high school football team. On their days off, they worked at Casper’s, their fathers’ bar and restaurant.
Garrett stood up and felt the stiffness in his thigh. It wasn’t terrible, but it was there. He was in a pissed-off mood and working tonight was going to suck royally. Friday nights at Casper’s were crowded, noisy, and consisted of a lot of business people letting off steam from their workweek, combined with men and women looking for a good time for the weekend. He hated getting hit on by every bimbo in sight and so did his brothers. Wes and Gunny wanted what their fathers had with their mother. A ménage relationship, shared amongst brothers who would cherish and provide for the love of their life. Lately, that dream had seemed more like a fantasy that he wouldn’t be part of. What did he have to offer a woman anyway? He ran his fingers through his hair and walked toward the bathroom to shower. He had once been an expert in eliminating or protecting high-value targets. Now look at me. I’m beginning to wonder if any of this is worth it.
* * * *
Gianna Marie Clarke shook with fear as she stood between Antonio Pelloni and his partner, Valdere Valencio. They had both been drinking and the party right outside the bedroom door continued to rage into the wee hours of the morning. What had started out as a means to get her designs looked at by an advertising agency had turned into a nightmare of sorts. She was foolish to believe that she could meet prince charming in the waiting area of the Bartlet business center. Her dreams of making it on her own in New York City without family and only a few friends from college was a fantasy. Her one and only cousin lived in Texas, a long way from her home in upstate New York. Looking to the city for a job, better money, and a future in art and perhaps advertising was her dream. In her attempt to act so independent and worldly, she found herself in the center of an obsession. How had things gotten so out of control?
She swallowed hard and felt the tears fill her eyes as Valdere caressed her hair. He used his nimble fingers to pull it from the tight updo she had spent hours getting done in the salon. Antonio spoiled her, or at least she thought of it as being spoiled but more recently realized she was being controlled.
Antonio, with his dark brown eyes, Italian style, and flare, stared at her lips as he held her chin in a tight grip.
“You were the hit of the party as usual, Gianna bella. You are so perfect and meant to be mine for eternity.”
Valdere sniffed against her neck and she stepped closer to Antonio. She felt Valdere tense then grip her hips hard. She gasped and the change in Antonio’s expression was different. Would he truly allow his business partner to touch her intimately? She knew this was wrong. She wasn’t a whore. She thought she was in love with Antonio, but now she knew the truth. He really didn’t love her the way he claimed. If he did, would he so easily allow another man to touch her and possess her body? And Valdere of all men, who treated women like garbage?
She was so frightened and felt so stupid in the decisions she had made the last few months. She didn’t want this.
“Please, Antonio. I don’t want to,” she began to say and his grip on her chin was tighter, making her gasp and lean against his chest.
“You’re too lenient with her, Antonio. She needs discipline and control. You’ve allowed her to become your obsession.” Valdere’s fingers grazed along her shoulders to the zipper of her dress. The tears rolled down her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to stop them. Looking around the room at all the artwork, the designer bed and comforter set, and the portrait of her standing in a red gown that Antonio adored her in caused the reality of her life to set in. Despite the money she saved, the accomplishments in her own artwork she designed, she allowed this man to control every aspect of her life. She couldn’t take it any longer. She had to draw the line somewhere, somehow. He took advantage of her lack of family and destroyed any friendships she had.
“Do as I say, Gianna. You know the consequences of defying my command,” he whispered in a show of power in front of Valdere, whom Gianna felt Antonio feared, and also in an attempt to induce fear into her mind. Antonio knew her weaknesses. He knew she hated to be alone and she lacked in self-confidence.
She turned away in an attempt to get out of the reach of Valdere’s exploring hands. She grabbed hold of the bodice of her dress. The zipper in the back was pulled down and now she stared at both men and wondered what they would do to her now.
“Please, Antonio. I don’t want to do this,” she said as Valdere began to unbutton his shirt. In a flash Antonio was grabbing her by the arm and yanking her forward. It all happened so quickly. The pounding on the door, the strike to her face by Antonio, and Valdere ripping her dress. She screamed and tried to stop them. The pounding on the door continued and then suddenly the door burst open and chaos filled the room. It was surreal as she ran toward the bathroom. Looking over her shoulder she saw both Valdere and Antonio react in anger toward the intruder. A group of men stood by the doorway as Valdere’s bodyguards attempted to get inside. She paused to see Antonio and the stranger tumbling to the carpet, words exchanged. Something about a woman, a deal with condos, and the man’s sister. Valdere ran from the room, exiting by the side doorway that led to the floor below and the kitchen. He was running from the scene. Looking at the doorway she noticed that Valdere’s men were no longer there and the others were yelling about cops entering the party. Antonio continued to fight the one man. She thought she heard sirens and she watched Antonio beating the man to near death with his fists. The same hands that once caressed her body, the same hands that struck her when she disobeyed, and he would do the same to her if she didn’t leave right now.
She cried in near hysteria as she ran to the other room and pulled out her bag. She threw what she could inside of it, and thought about her next move. She needed money. She needed a place to go. But then the police arrived.
She stared at the officers as they stopped Antonio and handcuffed him. The other man lay bloodied and beaten on the rug. Was he dead?
“Miss, miss, are you okay?” an officer asked. She still held her dress tight against her chest. He stared at her lip. She realized she was bleeding from Antonio’s strike earlier. Did the cop think that she was a victim, too?
“You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you,” the officer said and she swallowed hard. Was it over? Was she free to leave Antonio and never fear seeing Valdere again?
She was scared to speak, to say that Antonio was her boyfriend. She feared his wrath, even now, handcuffed, screaming expletives as the police led him from the room.
The officer spoke into his walkie-talkie on his shoulder.
“I need an ambulance and a female officer upstairs pronto.”
He stared at her as he released the radio. He looked her over then stepped back.
“It’s going to be okay, miss. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Chapter 1
Gia Marie Giselli walked out of her boss’s office with pen and pad in hand. The small meeting of advertising specialists had been at it all morning, trying to seal the deal on their latest clients. Being an artist and designer for the small advertising firm, her work was finally being appreciated. Gia had so many ideas, having put her dreams on hold back in New York as she evaded problem after problem in that large advertising agency in Manhattan. She closed her small office door and stared out at the view and Houston skyline. That life was a half a year beh
ind her. Antonio was a distant memory, having served time for assault charges and drug possession for the drugs found at the party the police raided.
She felt that slight twinge in her chest as thoughts of New York still fazed her six months later. She was far away in Houston, and she had even gone as far as changing her last name thanks to her cousin Teddy and his military connections. God, she was glad that she had Teddy to help her. Otherwise, Antonio Pelloni would own her, or by now, have killed her. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she heard the knock at the door. Its sudden sound startled her as she gasped then took an unsteady breath. She was safe here in Houston. No one knew where she was. No one back in New York even cared. Antonio had probably moved on in disgust with her leaving him.
“Come in,” she replied, straightening out her shoulders and putting on her tough, executive attitude. It was all a façade, a show of control and toughness. Even the martial arts classes felt that way. As good as she performed on the mats, she wondered if she had what it took to truly defend herself from attack. She had to try. There was always that fear in her mind that Antonio would come looking for her and attack her as he did that man that night at the party.
“Hey. How did the meeting go? Did they love it or what?” her new friend Kaleigh asked as she closed the door behind her and plopped herself down on the side of the desk. Gia was still trying to get used to everyone’s Texas accents. She of course stood out with her New York accent. There was no hiding it. Kaleigh appeared ready to leave for the night, with her briefcase in hand and her light sweater. She was pulling her long blonde hair out of the bun she wore. She shook the locks and gave Gia a sassy look. “I am so ready to release some stress tonight. So tell me how it went.” Kaleigh worked in the personnel department, which Kaleigh always explained was quite stressful.
“I think it went well. Robert’s eyes lit up as he winked at me then sat there all smug. I swear, since the day he hired me, he’s been patting himself on the back. He is such a character.”
