plik

A Totally Bound Publication

On the Home Front

ISBN # 978-1-78184-980-4

©Copyright Jambrea Jo Jones 2014

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2014

Edited by Stacey Birkel

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination

and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or

places is purely coincidental.

whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of

the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound

Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil

proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs

and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator

of the artwork.

Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road,

Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This

story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 1.

YLVLW 683(5,25=25* IRU PRUH PP ERRNV

Forgiving yourself is the hardest battle…

Peter ‘Bulldog’ Jakes killed his mother. People tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he felt just as

guilty as if he’d pulled the trigger. Bulldog had always figured being in the Army Special

Forces would eventually hurt his family.

Moby Edward’s heart aches for his First Sergeant and he wants to help, but Bulldog blows

him off every time.

When Bulldog is forced to take leave, Moby follows, but will things out of their control ruin

what could be the healing power of friends turned into lovers?

Dedication

For those of us who take the blame even when we did nothing wrong. And to Joy.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following

wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Jeep SUV: Chrysler Group LLC

Spidey: Marvel Comics

Cujo: Stephen King

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Chapter One

Peter ‘Bulldog’ Jakes stood at attention in front of his CO’s desk. They had just returned

from a training mission in parts unknown and now he was hearing that his mother was dead.

Fuckin’ murdered.
How was he supposed to react? He should have been there, but no, he’d been off

having fun. Most might not see it that way, but he loved everything about the Army and his
position in the Special Forces. It was his life and a way out of a boring nine-to-five existence
or the welfare train his brother was on.

“Your leave will start now,” Lieutenant Colonel Mills finished up.
It took a second for Bulldog to focus on his LT.
“Leave, sir?” He looked down at the LT sitting at his desk before going back to

attention.

“Yes, Jakes—leave. Once you’re home and get a sitrep, let me know when you’ll be

back.”

He didn’t lose his bearings this time. “I don’t need—”
“This is not a request, First Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bulldog turned and left the room—he’d been dismissed and there was nothing he could

do about it. He’d just been given a direct order to go home. Fuck. He shouldn’t be upset at the
LT for making sure he was in his right mind—if he wasn’t, he could get people killed—but
he didn’t want to go home and face his past.

Bulldog bumped into someone—it could have been anyone, but was it? No, it was

Moby, a man he really didn’t want to see right now. If he’d been on his game, that wouldn’t
have happened, but right now everything was off.

“Hey, Jakes, what’s doin’, man?” Moby Edward grinned.
It seemed that was all the Master Sergeant ever did. The man was happy all the time.

Moby even smiled while disarming a bomb. Not that Bulldog could blame him—being in
Special Forces was a dream come true and they might all be just a bit nuts. You had to love it

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to do what they did. It was one of the things Bulldog really admired about Moby—not that
he’d tell the man he had any feelings in any kind of way because Moby would jump all over
that. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell might have been repealed, but there were just some things you
didn’t let happen…like having sex with a guy in your unit. Even if Moby did have a really
great smile that reached his dark brown eyes…

But Bulldog wasn’t thinking about that. He didn’t have time for Moby today. Not when

he had to think about what he was heading into. It wasn’t home anymore, and if it wasn’t for
his niece, Annabeth, he would have tried harder to stay on base. The guilt didn’t sit well
most days, but it was worse when he was back in Fort Wayne.

“Nothing. Gotta jet.” Bulldog waved Moby off and headed towards his Jeep.
That didn’t dissuade Moby—oh no. Moby walked backwards and talked to Bulldog like

he didn’t have a care in the world. Bulldog shouldn’t have expected any different. He’d
known Moby for a couple of years now, and he should have been the one with the nickname
Bulldog because once he got something stuck in his craw, he didn’t let go until he had what
he wanted.

“Jet? But we just got back. The guys are headed to the bar. I mean, what did LT want?

How bad could it be to not go out first?” Moby wiggled his eyebrows and grinned before
turning around and walking beside Bulldog.

He sighed and pinched his nose. It was best to just tell Moby so he could get this trip

over with, bury his mom and come back to his real family.

“Mom died. Headed home.” He didn’t even turn to look at Moby. Bulldog didn’t want

to see the sympathy in his eyes. God this sucked and he couldn’t even cry. Or feel sad. All he
had in him was guilt for not being there.

The LT had told him his mom had been murdered. Bulldog kept meaning to go home

during some downtime, but he had always put it off. Maybe he could have done something
if he’d been there.

“Hey, wait. Stop.”
“Moby, I don’t have time for this.”
“Bulldog—Pete, come on.” Moby clamped a hand on his shoulder and Bulldog couldn’t

move.

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Moby was a strong-ass man and had about fifty pounds on Bulldog—an unstoppable

force as he showed time and time again on the field. Bulldog might have a couple of inches
on Moby, but it didn’t make up for Moby’s muscle mass. He wondered how it would feel—
shit, he wasn’t going there.

“I’m serious, Moby. I have to get out of here and get a ride back to Indiana. The sooner I

get there, the sooner I can get back.”

“Fuck, man, your mom died.” Moby squeezed Bulldog’s shoulder.
He cringed and Moby loosened his hold, but not enough for Bulldog to get out of the

grip.

“I’m well aware.” He glared, but it didn’t work.
“You know what I mean. Take a second here. Talk to me.” Moby was pleading with

him.

Bulldog closed his eyes. “I don’t know anything yet,” he admitted and felt even more

like a shit. “I’ll find out more when I get there.” Bulldog shook his arm and Moby finally let
go.

“Do you need anything?” He patted the arm he’d had such a tight grip on seconds

before.

Bulldog knew he’d bruise, damn it. The guy was too strong for his own good. “Only to

get this over with,” Bulldog sighed. The day was becoming endless—both emotionally and
physically.

“Pete, I can help.”
He knew it was bad when Moby started using his first name. Everyone called him

Bulldog. He couldn’t even remember how the nickname got started.

“I appreciate it, but no. You should go enjoy your downtime. Didn’t you say the guys

were going to the bar?”

“That can wait.”
“That’s all well and good, but I can’t.”
Moby jerked his head and did an about-face, striding away in the opposite direction.
It shouldn’t have made Bulldog sad, but it did. Moby wasn’t his, would never be his. It

was better this way. He’d go home and pack. Focus on Annabeth. She had to be a mess right

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now and he had no idea where she was. Last he’d heard, his deadbeat brother had dropped
her off at their mom’s. God, he hoped someone had Annabeth situated.

Moby walked away. It was all he could do not to hug Pete. The more he felt for the

man, the harder it got to think of him as Bulldog. He didn’t know why, but it was what it
was. He wanted so bad to help, his skin was itching. Pete had to be out of his mind with
worry. They all knew about his niece and her shit of an excuse for parents. The mom was
locked away for drugs and who knew about the dad?

Moby was going to help come hell or high water. He knocked on LT’s door.
“Enter.”
LT looked up when he walked in and nodded for him to speak. Moby looked over LT’s

head and stared at the wall behind him. He had to ask this right or he’d be shot down—he
knew it. Pete might have said he didn’t need him, but Moby was going to be there. It was his
downtime and he’d use it how he wanted to—even if that meant helping a stubborn friend
who wouldn’t ask for it.

“Sir, I’d like permission to take an extended leave.”
“How extended?” LT didn’t have any expression on his face.
“I’m not sure, sir.” Moby didn’t even blink—he was holding steady and keeping his

military bearing. This was too important to fuck up. His usual clowning around wouldn’t
accomplish anything. He had to get this done.

“You have to give me more than that to fill out the paperwork, Edward.”
“I’m going to Indiana to help First Sergeant out.” He hoped to God his poker face was

intact. Most people could read him like a book and the LT was one of them.

“Did he ask you for help?” LT’s voice was calm, which could be a good thing or a bad

thing. That was one of the things with LT, you just never knew—the man had the best poker
face around. He never showed emotions. Ever. At least not when Moby had been around.

“Permission to speak freely?”
LT waved his hand, giving him silent permission.
“He needs help. We both know he won’t ask for it and this is his mom. She’s gone, and

he’s going to need a friendly there.”

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“Did he tell you what happened to his mom?” LT steepled his fingers and tapped them

to his chin, watching Moby with those too-keen eyes.

“Just that she died and he didn’t know much more.”
“She was murdered.”
“Fuck. Um… Sorry, LT.” Moby had lost it just for a second. Pete was going into a

hostile situation with no back-up. All the more reason he had to go.

“I’m going to grant your leave. We don’t know how bad it is and I don’t want him to go

off the deep end. I also don’t want to read a headline in the Indiana papers saying a member
of the Army Special Forces killed a civilian. Keep him in check. I expect to hear from you
when you land and keep me up to date when he can’t. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get out of here.” LT’s expression cracked for just a second. It was gone so fast,

he had to have imagined that smile gracing his commander’s face.

Moby didn’t waste time. He left the office and raced to his apartment just off base,

wondering if he could get on the same flight. Pete was going to be pissed off, but he’d get
over it.

Luckily he didn’t live far from base. None of them did because they could get called out

at a moment’s notice. That was the way of things. He should live on base to make it even
easier, but he was done with the frat style living that went on there. It got old—fast. Or
maybe that was just him.

Naw.
He rushed around his place looking for his duffle. He really didn’t need much, just a

couple of pairs of jeans and some shirts. Shit—the funeral. Should he have something for
that? His uniform might do, but his good one was at the cleaners. He’d forgotten to pick the
damn thing up and it wasn’t like he owned a suit. He’d have to pick something up there.

In minutes, he was back out the door and headed for the airport. He’d pick up his ticket

there. He had to have a plan. If Pete saw him at the airport, all bets would be off. Moby was
going to have to keep low and not be detected until the plane had taken off.

Easier said than done because it wasn’t like Pete wasn’t observant, but Moby had to

hope his First Sergeant’s grief would keep him preoccupied enough not to spot Moby.

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Keeping a sharp lookout, he headed to the first kiosk and booked a flight. It might not

be the only airline going to Fort Wayne so maybe he could luck out. Of course when he got
there he’d have to contact Pete because he had no idea where he was going. He should have
figured that out before leaving LT’s office, but sometimes he didn’t think things through—
one of his biggest downfalls if you asked a few of the members of their team. But, hell, what
did they know?

Moby’s flight wouldn’t take off for about an hour so he had time to spare, which

translated into time to get caught. He’d use the time to call the LT and get an address.

He wasn’t scared of Pete, but he also didn’t want to cause him any more grief. He was

going to help, damn it. Pete would just have to live with it. Moby moved so his back was to a
wall, letting him search the crowds. His arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the
wall and waited.

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Chapter Two

Bulldog got out of the taxi and stopped for a moment to just take it all in. It didn’t feel

any different knowing his mom wasn’t going to be there to greet him. Should it? Most times
she would be looking out of the screen door waiting for him—rushing out as soon as he
stepped out of the car and throwing herself at him. He rubbed a hand over his chest. It was
hurting—maybe things were sinking in, but he couldn’t go there, not yet.

The place still looked the same—maybe a little shabbier with the blue paint faded. He

should have come home on his last leave to give it a nice fresh coat of the royal blue his mom
had loved. Not that he’d been gone that long this time, but looking at it always made him
think of times long ago, growing up, his kid brother following him everywhere and how
pissed off he’d get.

Now he wished his brother had followed him right into the military. Things might have

turned out a bit different if he had.

Bulldog grabbed his duffle and headed to the front door. Behind him he heard a car

pull to a stop. He turned to see another cab at the kerb. Bulldog watched as Moby got out.

What the fuck?
Moby grinned and waved. Bulldog shouldn’t have had that happy feeling in his gut.

He’d basically told Moby to back off and here he was. It was hard enough blocking his
feelings for the other man when they were together on the base. Now? He really wanted to
hug Moby close and never let go. Not good. Very not good.

“What are you doing here, Moby?” Bulldog started to cross his arms over his chest until

he realised he still held his bag. He settled for a glare.

“Hello to you too.” Moby winked.
Both cabs drove away, but Bulldog didn’t pay them too much mind. It was that damn

smile. Every frickin’ time he saw it, he just about melted, and that wasn’t good with the
emotional state he was in. He might not show it outwardly, but it hurt to know his mother
was dead and not know why. If Moby offered him any kind of comfort and he didn’t stand
strong, Bulldog was going to cave, in a big way.

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God damn it.
Bulldog sighed. How was he going to convince his team mate to leave? Moby might be

happy-go-lucky, but he was also a stubborn SOB.

“Moby.”
“Pete.”
And when had Moby started calling him Pete? Everyone called him Bulldog.
“You need to turn around—”
“Not happening. LT gave me permission and said to watch your six. So here I am and

what a six it is. Hubba, hubba.”

Bulldog snorted. Damn the man. Couldn’t he take anything seriously?
“Enough.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Moby saluted him.
“Stop it with that too. If you’re going to stay, grab your stuff and we can head inside.

I’m still not happy about this.”

“Duly noted.”
“Hopefully Rick is inside with Annabeth and he can tell me what the fuck happened.”
“LT said your mom…” Moby cleared his throat before continuing, almost like he was

afraid to say something which was out of character. The man chatted while shooting at the
enemy. It was almost as annoying as him telling jokes while working with a bomb. “Yeah…
He said she was murdered.”

“That’s what he told me as well.” Bulldog gave a stiff nod.
“That is beyond fucked up.”
“Agreed.”
They both were at the front door and Bulldog was about to knock when the next-door

neighbour opened her door.

“Hello, Mrs Wilson. Good to see you.” He tried for a smile, but from her cringe he

didn’t do a very good job.

“It’s wonderful to see you as well, and about time you got here. What with your poor

mother and now this too.” She shut the door behind her and headed over to him.

“What too?”
“You mean you’re not here because— You don’t know…? Well, sugar sticks.”

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That was strong language from Mrs W. What else could be wrong? Wasn’t his mother

dying enough?

“Don’t know what, ma’am?” Moby put out the question he’d wanted to ask, but his

whole body was tense. He had a bad feeling in his gut.

“Well—Rick and Suzie… They— Well, no easy way to say this. They’re dead.” Mrs

Wilson had her hands clutched to her throat and she looked out of sorts.

Bulldog stumbled, but Moby was there to steady him. Thank God LT had sent Moby.

He didn’t know what to do. What to say.

This can’t be happening.
“Mrs…Wilson, was it?” Moby paused and Bulldog saw her nod. “Where is Annabeth?”
Good, at least someone had the sense to ask about his niece. She had to be a wreck. So

much death in so little time. Her grandmother. Now her parents.

Fuck.
“She’s taking a nap, finally. They let me keep her, figuring you’d be here soon, Peter.

They didn’t tell you about…?”

He snapped out of whatever haze he’d been in.
“My mom. They told me about her, but not… What happened?” Was that him with the

rusty voice? This wasn’t supposed to happen to his family. Not in the civilian world. He
should have been here. It was his job to protect and serve. So much for keeping his family
safe.

“They were murdered. You’ll have to talk to the police to find out what is going on.

They won’t tell me diddly. Believe me, I’ve asked.” She had her hands at her hips now and
looked about as pissed off as he’d ever seen her. “I’ll let you boys get settled and when
Annabeth wakes up, I’ll send her over. No sense in me disturbing her. She—well, as you
must know—isn’t sleeping much.”

Mrs Wilson turned and left Bulldog with an empty feeling. In one day he’d lost most of

his family. It was just him and Annabeth now. What the hell was he going to do with an
eight-year-old girl?

The slamming door was his cue to move. He had to…do something.

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Moby didn’t take his eyes off Pete. This situation sucked big-ass donkey balls and he

didn’t know what to do. His normal MO would have him cracking a joke and going for the
smile like he had when he’d first pulled up. But this shit was serious. Pete’s whole family
was gone. There was only the little girl left. And what the fuck was a person who lived for
military action going to do with a kid?

This wasn’t about him. It was about Pete and giving him whatever he needed to get

through this. His heart ached for his friend and he wanted nothing more than to pull him
into a hug, but Moby didn’t know how that would go over. If he tried to show his true
feelings for Pete, the other man might back off, and that wouldn’t help either of them.

“All right. Let’s do this. Annabeth could wake up any minute and we need to get things

settled. What do you need? I’m here. You need to hit something? Scream? We should
probably take it inside. I didn’t bring any C-4 so no blowing shit up, but that’s my job
anyhow.”

He went for light, but not too light. It did get a huff of a laugh out of Pete, so that was a

start.

“I need to look for my key. I don’t know if I have it or not.”
Mrs Wilson chose that moment to come back out. “Oh, boys. I forgot something. Here. I

have a key and this card. This is the detective in charge of the investigation. I was told to
have you call him as soon as you got in.” She thrust the stuff into Pete’s hands and hurried
back to the house.

He wondered what that was about, but who could understand busybodies? He was

pretty sure Mrs Wilson was the one who had liked to tell Pete’s mom everything she saw
him doing. Not a bad thing—when you weren’t a kid.

Neither said another word as they went into the house. It was a nice place, nothing too

fancy, but it seemed to fit the guy that Pete was. Everything was practical and a bit sparse.
Pete looked lost in the middle of the room. He’d dropped his bag and just stood there. Moby
couldn’t resist any longer. They were inside now and no one could see.

Moby moved closer and wrapped his arms around Pete, holding him close and tight,

letting him know Moby would be there to support him. He thought he saw a movement out
of the corner of his eye, but ignored it. Now was the time to let Pete fall apart if he needed to.

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They stood that way for a couple of minutes before Pete tapped Moby’s hands and moved
out of his grip.

“I need to call the detective and get a sitrep. Should do that before Annabeth gets here.

She won’t need to hear me talk about this. Why don’t you go to Rick’s old room? First door
on the right. I’m next door.”

“All right. Let me take your bag up. I’ll let you make the call and be down shortly.”
That was that. Pete wouldn’t even let Moby offer him the smallest comfort of a hug. His

heart was breaking for his friend. He could only imagine how Pete was feeling on the inside.
Pete was going to let loose, and soon, but Moby didn’t know which way he’d go. While out
on the field, Pete was strong and absolute. He could handle anything thrown his way. There
was never a crack in his armour, but it was only a matter of time before he shattered. This
was family and Pete wasn’t made of steel.

Moby tossed Pete’s bag onto his bed then went to the room he’d been assigned. He shut

the door for a second and leaned his forehead against the back of it. He took deep, calming
breaths. He might be the laugh of the party, but things hit him just as hard as they did other
people—he just covered it with laughter. Why worry over things you couldn’t fix? But he
really wanted to fix this for Pete.

The guilt had to be eating away at him. If anything, Moby knew too well how horrible it

felt when something happened at home and there was nothing you could do to make it stop.
And Pete was the kind of guy who took everything to heart, the one that was always saying
it was his fault when a mission went bad, even though everyone had their share of the
responsibility.

After one more deep breath in and out, Moby went back downstairs. Annabeth could

be back anytime and if Pete was still on the phone he’d want to distract her. God—Annabeth.
She was just a kid.

Moby walked down the stairs and noticed an envelope on the ground by the front door.

He went to pick it up, intending to put it on the table in the entrance way. There was no
return address and the front only said Peter ‘Bulldog’ Jakes.

He flipped it over—it was sealed. Something was very not right about this. His Spidey

sense was tingling. How long had that been sitting there? He didn’t remember it being there

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when they’d walked in, but both of them had been preoccupied. Who had known Pete would
be coming home? Was someone watching the house?

Pete was mumbling in a back room somewhere. Suddenly, the front door was opening.

Moby wished he had his gun. He backed away so he wasn’t in full view. The door kept
creeping open inch by inch.

“Uncle Pete?”
Air whooshed out of his lungs. It was Annabeth. He closed his eyes and counted to ten

before responding and stepping out into the light.

“Hi, Annabeth. I’m Moby, a friend of your uncle. He’s in the kitchen right now and will

be out in a sec.” Moby noticed Mrs Wilson outside her door. He gave her a wave then shut
the front door, making sure to lock it up tight. Something was off. Three members of the
Jakes family were dead and there was a mysterious note on the ground. He had to give it to
Pete—maybe it would help them figure out what the hell was going on.

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Chapter Three

Bulldog slammed the phone down. Not that it made him feel any better. He was going

to throw up. They were saying Rick had been killed in a drive-by shooting. His mom was a
case of a mugging gone wrong and Sarah had supposedly got her hands on some drugs
while in jail and had overdosed. All cases closed. That was too much coincidence for his
blood. Something was going on and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

A knock at the front door startled him. It was loud enough that he could hear it in the

kitchen. He was that out of sorts, he was now jumping at noises. Annabeth would have
walked right in so it couldn’t be her. Was she there already? Shit, he wished he had his
sidearm, but it was locked up back at his house in Kentucky. He was getting an uneasy
feeling along his spine and the unexpected knock had him on alert.

He peered around the corner of the door and what he saw made him rush into the

room, only to have a bright light flash in front of his face. The front door was open and Moby
had Annabeth behind him—protecting her. She was clutching at his shirt.

What the fuck?
Why was a reporter on his doorstep? How had anyone known he would be home?

There was no guarantee he’d have been able to make it. Those who knew the Jakes family
wouldn’t have expected him unless he had called them, and so far the only person who had
any idea of his presence in town was the next-door neighbour. She might be a busybody, but
she wouldn’t sic the press on him, especially not with Annabeth there.

“Sir, any comment on the death of your family?”
Annabeth was right there, her face white and tears streaming down her face. Couldn’t

the woman see that? What was wrong with her?

Moby clutched Annabeth to him, protecting her from the onslaught. It took all that

Bulldog was not to punch that fucking reporter in the face.

“And who is your ‘friend’? Now that Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has been stricken down, did

you bring your lover to help comfort you? The two of you seem very…close.” The woman

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had the audacity to wink at him before shoving the microphone in his direction. Behind her,
the cameraman had a smirk on his face.

Who did she think she was? And who did she work for? This was Fort Wayne, not

Hollywood.

“No comment,” he said through clenched teeth and slammed the door in her face.
“Uncle Pete?”
Oh, God. Annabeth. He got down on his knees and opened his arms. She flew into them,

her little body shaking with her sobs. How dare that idiot woman come here and cause this?
It was bad enough that Annabeth had lost so much, but to rub a child’s face in it? That kind
of person gave journalism a bad name. That was, if she even happened to be with a paper.
He had his doubts—it stunk like amateur hour. He hadn’t got a name—he should have.
Maybe she’d introduced herself to Moby. If she was with a local paper, he was going to have
a little chat with her boss.

“Shh… It’s okay, baby girl. I’m here. Uncle Pete is here.” He picked her up and headed

to the couch.

He needed to sit down. What a fucking day. And it wasn’t over yet. Coincidence, his

ass. Bulldog didn’t believe in those. Something was up and it was on him to figure out what
it was.

For now, he took comfort from the little girl in his arms. She’d grown so much in the

past year. He could hardly believe she was eight. She was his now. Bulldog had no idea how
it would work, but he’d make it.

“They’re all gone. I was so scared,” Annabeth whispered into his ear.
“No need to be scared anymore. I’m here and I’m not letting you go.”
She seemed to relax just a tad at hearing his words. Moby sat down on a chair only to

hop back up like his pants were on fire. Bulldog had never seen him so jumpy before. He was
clutching an envelope in his hands and he wondered what that was about.

“How about I see what’s in the kitchen and make us some grub?” Moby wandered off.
Bulldog hadn’t told him where the kitchen was, but it wouldn’t be too hard to find. The

house wasn’t that big.

“Grub?” Annabeth wrinkled her nose.
He grinned, feeling just a bit lighter.

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“Food, baby girl. He’s going to fix dinner. Are you hungry? Mrs Wilson said you took a

nap.”

“Yeah, I was tired. I don’t like sleeping by myself. I keep hearing noises, thinking

they’re coming after me.”

“That’s why I’m here now. I’ll protect you and so will Moby.”
“Okay.” She snuggled into him, but didn’t say anything more.
“I want you to know, you can talk to me, okay? Anything you need, I’m here.”
“You can’t bring Nana back, can you?” She looked so hopeful.
Bulldog closed his eyes. He wished he could tell her yes, that it was all a dream, but he

couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. You know if I could, I would.”
“Mom and Daddy are gone too, and Mrs Wilson said they wouldn’t be back either. Is it

like with the cat? When Oreo left she went to heaven and we didn’t see her anymore.”
Annabeth worried her bottom lip.

It wasn’t going to get any easier. They both had a tough road ahead, but he wouldn’t

start it with lying or holding back the truth. Well—as much as he could tell an eight-year-old.

“Honey, it’s exactly like that. They’re gone—hopefully to a better place. It’s just you and

me kid.”

She nodded, but the sad look wasn’t going away. It might be a long time before she

could be a happy kid again. He just hoped he was strong enough to help her through the
hard times headed their way.

Moby found the kitchen and stopped dead in the middle of it. Fuck. His heart couldn’t

take it. Those two had lost so much and there was really nothing he could do about it. He
tossed the envelope on the counter and searched around for something to feed them. He’d
had to leave the room before he crawled onto that couch and pulled them both into his arms.
It wasn’t his place to do so, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

When that bitch of a woman had knocked on the door, he hadn’t been able to stop

Annabeth from opening it. He’d jerked her behind him as fast as he could, but he couldn’t
shut the door fast enough. She’d never introduced herself, just started in with the questions.
She’d got a feral gleam in her eye when Pete had stormed into the room. He would have

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questioned her about it, but Pete had closed the door so fast Moby hadn’t had time to react. It
was probably for the best with the pain Annabeth was in.

He was opening cabinets without really seeing what was in them. Maybe they should

order pizza. Crap. What would an eight-year-old eat? Mac and cheese seemed like the
easiest. He opened the fridge to make sure they had everything before starting the water
boiling.

Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Pete come in. He was leaning against the counter with

his arms across his chest watching the pot on the stove.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Pete walked over to him and stood next to Moby.
“Huh?” Moby blinked, trying to focus.
“You’ve never heard the saying ‘a watched pot never boils’?” Pete gave him a slight

grin.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Moby rubbed his hands on his pants.
“I took her up to her room. She’s still a little tired. I’m hoping she’ll get some more sleep

in her own bed.”

“Why don’t you go lie down too?” Moby went to the stove to turn it off.
“No, leave that on.” Pete took Moby’s hand in his. “She’ll be hungry when she wakes

up and we can just warm it up.” Pete let go of Moby.

Moby gulped. It had felt good to have Pete touching him, if only briefly.
“I think I’ll take a shower. Don’t know about sleeping, but… I feel dirty.” Pete wiped a

hand down his face and left the room.

He wanted to follow, but knew Pete would need some time to himself. Moby wasn’t

going to let him wallow. He was here to help, and he needed to call the LT.

The phone rang a couple of times before it was answered.
“Sir, this is Master Sergeant Edward. We have landed and are at the house, and there

was more news when we got here.”

Moby paused.
“And?”
“Well, sir, it seems as if First Sergeant’s brother and sister-in-law were also killed. I

haven’t had time to talk to him since he spoke to the police. His niece is here.”

“Something doesn’t sound right about this. You need to keep me updated.”

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“Yes, sir. As soon as I’ve talked to the sergeant, I’ll let you know where we’re at.”
“Good. And thank you for calling in.”
Moby could hear the worry in the LT’s voice. It didn’t surprise him one bit. They were

all a little family, and when one hurt, they all hurt. If the other guys knew what was going
on, they would have flown to Fort Wayne in a heartbeat.

They said their goodbyes and the phone clicked in his ear.
He finished the mac and cheese. He’d let it cool a bit on the stove before putting it in the

fridge. He’d just have to nuke it when Annabeth woke up.

When he walked upstairs, the shower was going. Had Pete been in there the whole

time? He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Moby tried the knob and the door
swung open. The sight nearly broke his heart in two.

Moby didn’t even think—he tossed his clothes aside and entered the shower. Pete was

sobbing so hard his shoulders were shaking. He was crouched down in the shower rocking
back and forth, not making a sound. God, the pain must be unbearable and he’d been so
strong. This wasn’t about sex—it was about comfort and offering what he could. When he
pulled Pete off the floor and Pete clutched at him, Moby did what came naturally. He
wrapped his arms around Pete and held him close. He could be the support Pete needed.

He didn’t know how long they stood in the shower with him soothing Pete, just holding

him and letting the other man get out what he needed to. Moby had known Pete would
break. It was a good thing it had been with an emotional unleashing because if not, someone
would have ended up dead. Moby would have covered up what he could, but Pete would
never have forgiven himself for taking out a person in anger. No way would he let Pete go
through that as well as the loss of his family.

Finally Pete moved away. Moby let him go and they stared at each other for a moment.

Pete’s eyes were red from the crying. The water was also getting cold. Moby turned so he
could get it shut off before they froze. Not saying a word, he got out of the shower and
grabbed the towel Pete had left on the counter. He dried himself off before helping Pete out
of the shower. He did a rough pat down to get most of the water off Pete.

“Sorry,” Pete muttered.

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Moby just shook his head and grabbed Pete for another hug. He pulled him tight and

squeezed. “You do not apologise for feeling.” With one last squeeze, Moby let Pete go. “I’m
here for you and this is more than you even thought. It isn’t about just your mom anymore.”

“It isn’t. Fuckers.” Pete rubbed at his eyes.
“Who?”
“The police. They’re saying mom was mugged, Rick was shot in a drive-by and Sarah

got some drugs and overdosed.”

“No way is that a coincidence.”
“That’s what I said.”
“What’s going on, Pete?”

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Chapter Four

Bulldog wished like hell he knew. The whole situation was a big clusterfuck. But right

now all he could think about was the fact that Moby was naked. And so was he. He’d noticed
it earlier, but he’d been too busy crying like a baby. Now—now was different. He closed his
eyes, willing his cock to behave. It wasn’t the time for him to let his dick talk for him. It
wasn’t. But, God, Moby looked good, his dark hair slicked back from the shower. He still had
water dripping down his muscled chest, his dark nipples hard, his cock getting hard, his
balls heavy against his thick thighs—it all made a pretty picture. Everything in Bulldog’s
body was calling for him to take Moby and kiss him.

He gulped. He’d had a craving for Moby for as long as he could remember, but he

never gave in to the other man’s flirtations. They were in a small, tight-knit group that
wouldn’t be able to handle it if something went wrong. He didn’t think the other guys would
care if they were together—they were all like brothers. At least he hoped that was the case.
They never talked about sexual orientation. Not really. It was unspoken for the most part—
but if asked, he’d bet they all knew he was gay.

Moby licked his lips. Fuck. He stopped thinking about the other guys. His dick wasn’t

going to cooperate anyway. No matter what he did to try to distract himself, his usual tricks
weren’t working. It was already filling.

To hell with it all. He needed to forget, he just needed a moment of peace—and Moby

could give him that. They could work out the details later. Right now he felt like he’d seen
too much death and he needed to feel alive.

The need was so strong he grabbed at Moby and pulled him as close as he could,

smashing their lips together. Moby melted into him. There was no resistance at all and to
have that strong man just collapse into him had Bulldog harder than he’d ever been. He
smoothed his hands down Moby’s back, the skin silky soft. He moaned and gripped Moby’s
ass, squeezing tight, grinding their bodies together. The only sounds in the room were pants
and grunts as they continued to kiss and grope. He didn’t want to stop—kissing Moby was

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like coming home. Not that he’d tell Moby that…yet. Bulldog thought it could be good, but
he’d never imagined the impact of them being this close. Why had he waited so long?

He wanted in Moby’s ass and kissing in the bathroom wasn’t getting him what he

wanted. Moby was caressing his arms and slowing down the kiss. He framed Bulldog’s face
in his hands and Bulldog leaned into his touch, finally breaking the lip-lock.

“Pete…” Moby was searching his face and Bulldog hoped he found what he was

looking for.

Please, God, let him find it.
“I want you, Moby.” There, he’d said it. There was no going back.
“Right now, or…?” Moby looked a bit uncertain.
He hoped there was a way to get that look off Moby’s face, but Bulldog wasn’t sure he

knew how.

“I can’t… Right now I just— Damn.” Bulldog took a deep breath. He could do this. Man

the fuck up, Jakes. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, but… Fuck, man—we’re in a small unit if
anything goes wrong…” Bulldog trailed off and situated himself so he was resting on the
sink.

“Why does something have to go wrong?” Moby moved into his space and stroked

Bulldog’s chest. “And we’re big boys. I’m not going to let something go down on a mission
because I’m pissed at you. Jeez, Pete, I thought you knew me better than that.” Moby gave
him a light tap to the chest.

“What if it isn’t you—it’s me?”
“So you think that if we’re under enemy fire after having a fight you’d let my ass get

shot?”

“Well—”
“Exactly. Your argument is invalid.” Moby grinned and winked at him.
Bulldog shook his head. Leave it to Moby to ease the tension in the room.
“Now what?” Bulldog whispered. He hoped Moby had heard him because he wasn’t

going to repeat it.

Moby didn’t say anything, but he looked down at Bulldog’s cock. It had softened when

they’d started talking, but it got as hard as could be under that stare. Moby bit his lip then
looked up at Bulldog. Fuck. This part he could manage.

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He took Moby’s hand and dragged him from the bathroom into his room. He pushed

Moby to the bed, then went to lock the door. No matter what, he couldn’t forget Annabeth.
He didn’t want her to walk in on what was about to happen. Bulldog wasn’t ready for that
conversation yet.

After the lock clicked, he looked back at the bed to see Moby sprawled out, his legs

spread wide as he fingered his hole. Bulldog stood there and watched as Moby spat on his
fingers before adding another. He wanted in on that action—the need to touch Moby was
overwhelming, like all the years had built up to this moment in time. Bulldog crawled
between Moby’s legs until he could reach his ass. He gripped Moby’s thighs and licked at the
fingers and Moby’s pucker. Bulldog did it again and again, getting it nice and wet. He
couldn’t get enough of the taste—he could eat Moby’s ass forever.

“Pete!” Moby wiggled, but Bulldog wasn’t letting him move.
Just licking Moby’s hole wasn’t enough. He stopped for a second to get his middle

finger wet and added it to Moby’s two fingers. It was a tight fit, but the heat was almost too
much. He had to get inside.

“Moby. Moby.”
It took a bit before Moby focused enough to look at him.
“We don’t have lube.”
“I don’t fucking care.” Moby pulled Bulldog down on top of him, taking his mouth in a

kiss.

Moby could taste himself on Pete’s lips. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced.

He wanted Pete inside him already. He craved that big, fat cock. He whimpered against
Pete’s lips and pushed him away.

“Let me— Hold on…” Moby moved down the bed. “Up. Up!” He poked at Pete so he’d

get with the programme. Finally. There it was—Pete’s dick. “Just—” He wrapped his lips
around the head and sucked, licking at the pre-cum and humming.

Pete tasted so good, he didn’t want to stop, but he knew if he didn’t, Pete might come

and that wasn’t happening until Pete was balls deep in his ass. He got Pete as wet as he could
then moved back up the bed before holding his thighs, opening himself wide.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Pete’s tone held awe.

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He couldn’t handle it. He’d waited and dreamt of this moment since he’d first met Pete.
“Please.” He’d beg if he had to.
Pete nodded. Moby wanted to savour every second of his first time with Pete. You only

had one first time. He took a deep breath and pushed out as Pete inched his cock in. The burn
was intense and Moby loved every second of it. He hissed and Pete stopped, giving him a
second to adjust. Pete pressed in again only to pull out. He eased in deeper. Moby was so
full.

They were both breathing heavy once Pete was all the way in. Neither of them moved

for a moment, not until Moby pulled Pete down for a kiss. He couldn’t get enough of the way
his new lover tasted. He was addicted to Pete.

“Move. Please, Pete, for the love— Move!” Moby wrapped his legs around Pete,

digging his heels into Pete’s ass.

“Patience,” Pete panted against Moby’s lips.
“I’ve waited years for this. Please.”
Pete wasn’t moving fast enough for him so he flipped them over and took charge. Pete

gripped his thighs, holding on for the fast ride he was going to get. Moby grinned down at
him, planted his feet on the mattress so he could get a good angle and moved.

“So good. Never thought… Pete… Oh, my God.” Moby moved faster and harder. Pete’s

cock stroked his gland and it was all over. Now Moby was chasing his release. It was right
there…

“Moby, Moby—harder.” Pete was thrusting up as Moby was coming down.
He needed more, a touch. As if Pete had heard him, he reached for Moby’s cock and

stroked it, his hold tight, but perfect. He was on the edge.

“Now!” Pete almost shouted.
That was all it took. Moby came harder than he ever had in his life. He collapsed on top

of Pete. After a few seconds, he winced as Pete’s cock softened enough to slide out, leaving a
sticky trail along Moby’s thighs.

“Condom,” Moby muttered.
“What?” Pete sounded confused.
“We didn’t use one.”

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“Did we need to? We’re both clean. We got a full workup when we come back from

training. I haven’t been with anyone in…fuck, I can’t remember how long.”

“Me either.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m not, but I’ve never had sex without a condom.” Moby shrugged.
“More important things to worry about, don’t you think?”
“M’kay.” Moby was sleepy. Sex tended to do that to him.
“We need to clean up. And unlock the door.”
“M’kay.”
Pete laughed. “Stop saying that and get up. You’re a heavy motherfucker.”
Moby snorted, but moved off Pete. He did need to get up. No way could he sleep with

cum dripping out of his ass. He’d all but forgotten about Annabeth and the envelope. God
damn it. He should have told Pete about it before.

He slowly got off the bed and made his way to the door. It was then he remembered

there was a little girl down the hall and he was naked.

“You got a pair of shorts or something? My clothes are in the bathroom and, yeah,

Annabeth might wake up.”

“Shit, right.” Pete slapped his forehead and sat up. “Things I have to remember. No

walking naked around the house. Fuck. There are so many things I don’t know.”

“You’ll get it.” Moby reassured him.
Pete found a pair of sweats in his bag and Moby took them. It was a tight fit, but he was

only going to the bathroom. He unlocked the door and peeked outside. The coast was clear.

“Look, I forgot about this earlier, but before Annabeth came over, there was a plain

envelope on the floor. It just had your name on it. In everything that’s happened, I forgot
about it. I’m sorry. I left it in the kitchen. And, shit. The food is still on the stove.”

“An envelope? Really? I don’t remember seeing it. That seems…odd.”
“I thought so, too, like with all the other stuff going on. Something feels off, Pete.”
“I hear ya. Go get cleaned up and meet me in the kitchen.”
Moby nodded and headed for the shower. He hoped Pete wasn’t going to regret what

had happened. Everything was so heightened, with the murders and Pete being in charge of
a little girl. His life was going to change, and Moby had to hope he could be part of that new

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life, even if it meant they had to be on different teams. He’d miss the guys, but if it meant he
could be with Pete, he’d do it in a heartbeat. They had so much to talk about, but now wasn’t
the time. First they had to figure out what was going on.

He showered as quickly as he could and dressed in the clothes he’d taken off earlier

when he’d come in to comfort Pete. He hadn’t known it would lead to sex, but he wasn’t
going to complain. Moby smiled as he headed out of the room.

He wasn’t expecting the woman standing in front of him. He got pissed off and charged

at her. “What are you doing—?”

Moby never finished his sentence. Someone hit him from behind and it was lights out.

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Chapter Five

Bulldog was happier than he’d been in a while. His life might be fucked up right now

and his family decimated, but at least he had Moby to help him figure things out. He almost
felt bad for the little pleasure he had, but it wasn’t wrong to want to lean on someone. It was
about time he’d figured that out.

Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks. We have time.
We…
He was already thinking of them as a team of two. That was a good thing. It had to be.

He’d had feelings for Moby that he’d let go for far too long. It was time to follow his heart.
He wasn’t getting any younger. And neither was Moby. They had a few more years where
they could stay on top of the game, but Special Forces was a young man’s sport. Now he was
forced to think about the future. Would he even stay in now that he had his niece? Could he?
He couldn’t be gone for a month at a time with a young girl counting on him to be there.
She’d lost her whole life in the blink of an eye. She would need help adjusting.

He couldn’t think about it right now. It was too much.
Bulldog headed downstairs to look for the mystery envelope. The whole situation with

his family was FUBAR. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, and now he’d added sex with
his good friend to the pile of things he had to sift through. He didn’t regret a second of their
encounter, though. He hoped like hell Moby felt the same way.

He reached the kitchen and found the envelope right where Moby’d said he’d left it. He

should probably have been careful in case there were fingerprints, but he had to know what
was inside and the cops weren’t on the ball from what he’d seen anyway. Bulldog wasn’t an
investigator, but even he knew that three deaths in the same family in a short span of time
had to mean something. He hoped that whatever was inside could explain what was going
on. Right now he had nothing and he needed a starting point if he was going to get to the
bottom of the situation.

There was a single piece of white computer paper. It wasn’t handwritten and he really

hadn’t expected it to be. That would have been too much of a clue and so far everything that

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had happened was clean if it had the cops saying it was random. He didn’t know if the paper
or printer could be traced—probably not unless you were on television. There were only four
words typed on that paper.

I’m coming for you.

Bulldog should have called the police, but there was a good chance they would have

chalked it up to another random event. Fuckers. He did the only thing he could do. He called
his LT. Maybe he would have some sage advice or send back-up.

“Colonel Mills.”
“Hello, LT. It’s Sergeant Jakes.”
“How are things shaping up?”
“Not good.”
“I heard about your brother and sister-in-law. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Moby must have contacted their LT sometime that night. Bulldog smiled because it was

just like the man to make sure everything was okay.

“Thank you, sir. I seem to have a bit of a situation here.”
“I’d say so. Three members of your family are dead, close together. Something smells

off.”

“I thought so too. But that isn’t everything. When we got here there was an envelope

that Moby found. It had my name on it and inside it just said ‘I’m coming for you’. This is
about me, sir.”

“This is not about you, Jakes. It’s about whoever is behind all of this chaos. What do the

police say?”

“That it’s a coincidence.”
“Bullshit.”
“I know, sir, I thought the same thing. How can they not see a connecting thread? They

might now, with the letter, but I don’t know how much time I have before this person strikes,
and I have Annabeth here to think about.”

“I could send some back-up. Do you think it would help?”

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“If I had a better handle on the situation, sir, I’d say yes, but I need to figure out who is

behind all of this. This is personal, I don’t want to get—”

“Enough.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Contact the police. Inform them of the new situation. If you need help, call.”
There was a thud upstairs. He wondered what Moby was up to and hoped he didn’t

wake up Annabeth. Bulldog held the phone between his shoulder and ear, leaving his hands
free to put away the dinner Moby had cooked while still taking to LT.

“I’ll call the police as soon as I hang up.”
“I want updates, and don’t get into any trouble I have to come bail you out of.”
“Yes, sir.”
There were no goodbyes exchanged. LT just hung up. Bulldog put the phone back. His

mom still had one of those corded ones hanging on the wall. The front door opened and shut.
That was odd. He’d thought Moby was coming into the kitchen when he was done upstairs.
He opened the fridge, pushed the mac and cheese onto a shelf then went to investigate. The
front door was open and another envelope was on the floor held down by a rock so it
wouldn’t blow away. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He scooped up the paper
and ran up the stairs.

“Moby! Annabeth!” There was no answer. He looked into Annabeth’s room and she

was gone. The shower wasn’t on and the upstairs was empty. Bulldog ripped open the
envelope and pictures fell to the floor. A bunch of the pictures were from earlier when Moby
had hugged him in the living room. There were also photos from…

Fuck, that reporter. He’d known she wasn’t the real deal, but who was she?
Another note, this time typed out on cutesy stationery. It made him sick to see the

happy faces with flowers. The words themselves had him stumbling and falling to the floor.

Come to the River Greenway behind your mom’s house. Walk until you see your boyfriend. Do

not call the cops or the brat is dead first.

* * * *

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Moby shook his head to try to clear his thoughts, but it wasn’t helping. He was being

pushed down a path and he could hear Annabeth sniffling beside him. That damn reporter
had got into the house somehow and had hit him over the head. Or her cameraman had.
What the hell was going on? He hadn’t been out long—the love tap had only given them
time to tie him up then move him out of the house. Now she held Annabeth in her arms.

It was dark outside and he didn’t know the terrain. If it weren’t for the little girl, he

would have made a run for it already. He knew he could overpower them both and get back
to the house, but Annabeth would be no one’s collateral damage. He wondered how far
behind Pete was or if he even knew they were gone yet.

Please let him know. I haven’t told him I love him yet.
“Who are you?” He didn’t know if he’d get an answer or not. He could only ask. He

wished he knew what this whole thing was about and who he’d pissed off in a former life to
be in this situation.

Nobody answered.
“Moby?” Annabeth sniffed.
“Yes, sweetheart.” She sounded terrified and he could do nothing to help her right now.

Not with a gun pointed at him that could swing her way at any time. He would have to wait
for his opportunity.

“I want Uncle Pete,” she all but wailed.
The poor girl had been through so much. If—no, when—they got through this, she was

going to need buckets of therapy.

“I know.” Me too.
“Both of you shut up,” the woman snarled.
“She’s just a kid—” He got pushed for his troubles and stumbled a little. He was

clueless here. He had no idea who the enemy was or what the plan was with the hostages.
Usually he had intel before going into a situation. He hated going in blind, but he’d been in
worse situations, maybe.

They weren’t talking and he worried about that. Would that mean they would just

shoot them so Pete would find them out in the woods? He hoped that was plan B. Or plan C.
Anywhere down the alphabet, but not plan A.

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Finally they stopped behind a cluster of trees. He tensed, waiting for the shot that didn’t

come. There was a chair off to the side that the man dragged to the middle of the path and
shoved Moby into, tying his hands behind him to the chair and doing the same with his legs.
At least it looked like killing them right away was off the menu. He would be thankful for
small favours.

“At least let me hold her.” Moby lifted his chin in Annabeth’s direction.
“Fine.” The woman shoved her into his lap.
“Honey, you hold onto me, okay? Everything will be just fine.”
The guy snorted. Moby glared at him, all of his humour gone. Most of his unit wouldn’t

recognise the fun loving Moby as the man protecting Annabeth. But it was enough to scare
the idiot. Even with him being tied up, his kidnapper stumbled away. Annabeth was
sobbing, and he couldn’t comfort her. He did the only thing he could think of and started
singing. He had no idea what the words were—he thought he was mixing up a few different
songs—but it seemed to be working. She relaxed against him and snuggled into his lap.

“Can you get to my ropes without them seeing?” he whispered, slipping it into the song

he was ruining. He felt her nod against his chest. He kept on, hoping to keep the kidnappers
off kilter and ignoring them.

He didn’t know how tight the knots where, but he could move his hands around so it

couldn’t be too bad. Annabeth wiggled around a bit and he could feel her tugging at the
rope. He kept his eyes on the couple standing off to the side. It looked like they were trying
to hide, maybe to surprise Pete? He wanted to know who these people were and if they had
killed the other members of the Jakes family.

Crickets were chirping all around them and there was a light breeze ruffling the trees,

but he couldn’t make out much. He knew they were in a heavily wooded area behind Pete’s
place. They hadn’t walked too far and the idiots kept looking at their phones, maybe
checking the time? They had to have given Pete some kind of clue, but he was rushing into
an ambush and there was a gun involved. Moby needed to get out of his ropes so he could
help. Fuck, he wasn’t letting another Jakes die. Not on his watch. He finally had Pete… Well,
hoped he had him. They still had to talk and there was more than just the two of them. They
had a little girl to raise and boyfriends to scare off when she got older. No way was anyone
dying tonight.

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A sound—faint—reached his ears over the noise of the outdoors. It was a signal. One

they’d used on missions before. Pete was out there and had his eyes on them. He moved his
hands around, but they weren’t loose enough yet. He had to get free before Pete stormed in.
A stray bullet could ricochet off the tree and hit the precious little one in his lap. Moby kept
tugging at the ropes. Finally they shifted just enough so he could wiggle free.

“You head for the trees and hide behind them. Look away from us, okay, Annabeth?

Can you do that for me?” He was as quiet as he could be. Nobody was looking their way.

He had to get her out of the equation, and if he played his cards right, he could tackle

the guy with the gun.

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Chapter Six

Fuck, Bulldog wished he had his gun. It looked like Moby was tied down and he didn’t

have any idea what kind of help he’d be. Bulldog only saw one gun, but that didn’t mean
there weren’t more hidden somewhere. He didn’t know who the couple were—not really.
They had posed as a news team and didn’t look familiar. He had no idea why these two were
terrorising his family and had probably killed them off.

Bulldog watched Annabeth dart into the trees. He was happy Moby was thinking about

getting Annabeth to safety. He hoped to all that was holy that she stayed put. The two
captors chose that moment to turn towards Moby. Bulldog had to go now. He gave another
whistle, letting Moby know he would be there in a matter of seconds.

Moby crouched low and lunged towards the man with the gun. It went off and Moby

went down—hard. If Bulldog was closer he probably would have felt the thud from the big
body hitting the dirt.

The scream echoing around the path was his. It took him a moment to realise he needed

to shut the fuck up because he wasn’t helping anyone and he could be scaring Annabeth
more than she already was.

“You out there, Peter Jakes? If you don’t want us to shoot your boyfriend in the head,

you’ll come out now.”

Bulldog tucked the knife he’d grabbed from the kitchen into his pocket. It wasn’t a gun,

but if he got a chance to use it he would. He wasn’t stupid. Walking right out in the open
could be a death sentence and for all he knew Moby was already dead… And he couldn’t
think about that or he’d start screaming again.

He had to get himself under control. If this was a combat situation, he would have

screwed the pooch. He had to think like he was trained to and ignore the fact that his lover
could be dead. If he let on to the fact that Moby really did mean the world to him, they could
kill Moby to spite him. Bulldog couldn’t face that. Not another death. He’d lost too much
already and he wasn’t ready to lose Moby. Not until they were both old and grey in rocking
chairs on the front porch, because that was what he wanted more than anything.

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“He’s a team mate and he better not be fucking dead. If he is, you should be counting

your breaths because they will be your last. Now who the fuck are you?” he shouted from his
cover.

As much as he wanted to rush the scene, he couldn’t. He noticed a rustle beside him

and saw Annabeth peeking through the trees at him. He could just make out her silhouette in
the dark. He wished he had more time to reassure her, but he couldn’t. She had to be strong
for just a bit longer—then he would never let her go again.

He put a finger up to his lips and hoped she understood. She sat down in the grass and

watched him. For now she was safe and he needed to get Moby the same way.

“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt.”
That was the woman, and was she really pouting? She had to be off her rocker. He

wished he had a name or…anything. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen in his backyard—
literally. Fort Wayne was supposed to be away from all of this bullshit. Well, at least some of
it. It was the Midwest, for crying out loud, not the Middle East.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”
“I was a little smaller the last time we meet. Think back about ten years ago. Do you

remember me now?”

Fuck. Shit. Damn.
It couldn’t be. No way in hell could she be here, now. But it had to be her.
Ten years ago he’d been a newbie in the Army, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell still in full effect.

Her name was Leona Perkins. He’d dated her brother Stan for a while. He’d been a great
guy, but a few months into dating, Stan had gone into a deep depression and there’d been
nothing Bulldog could do about it, no matter how hard he’d tried. Stan had been convinced
they could never be together for the long haul, and Bulldog had started to think the same
thing.

Stan had killed himself and it was something Bulldog would never forgive himself for.

If he had been there for Stan like he should have been, maybe his mom would still be alive.
He knew it in his heart. It hurt to even think about forgiving himself for letting Stan down.

He’d found the body hanging in his room. He didn’t know how Stan had got in or why

he’d chosen to kill himself in Bulldog’s room. Those questions would never be answered.

“Leona?”

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“Ahh—see? I knew you’d figure it out. I told old Gary you were smarter than the

average bear.”

“Why are you here? Did you kill my family?”
She laughed and it sounded a bit maniacal. God, he needed to finish this now before

Moby bled out.

“I see you replaced my brother. Didn’t take you long. This guy isn’t the first.” She

kicked Moby and Moby didn’t move.

That couldn’t be a good sign. He inched closer to Gary and Leona.
“Stay here,” he whispered to Annabeth and she nodded.
“I tried to help Stan. I—”
“Don’t you say his name!”
“You have to know—” he tried again.
“I know you killed him. Now I’m going to kill everything you love. He was all I had,

you know, and thanks to you it’s been ten long years alone. The foster system is not nice to
young girls. Guess your little brat will find that out for herself, won’t she? Because you aren’t
going to leave this path. The cops won’t find your body for days. We’ll hide you in the
bushes until they get an anonymous tip attached to your niece’s body when we drop her off
at the station. She might be a little roughed up—but those things happen.” Leona cackled.

Moby was in pain. The bullet had gone through his shoulder and it hurt like a son of a

bitch. He didn’t want to move in case they decided to shoot him again. He really didn’t need
any more holes.

He listened to the talk and could hear the pain in Pete’s voice. He hadn’t forgiven

himself for something that had happened a decade ago that couldn’t have been in his control.
No way would Pete have killed that Stan person unless it was him or the other guy. It wasn’t
how Pete was built. He was a true hero. Now it was going to be Moby’s turn to return the
favour.

They weren’t paying attention to him. Gary was grinning like a fool. Moby had no idea

what had him so happy. Leona was looking into the night like she could make Pete appear.

It was going to be like fire racing down his arm once he did this, but he had to act now

before more shots were fired.

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“I’m sorry he killed himself. I wish—”
Leona moved forward, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “He didn’t kill himself. It

was you. All you. If you would have left him alone and not perverted him to your ways, he
would still be alive.”

Moby shook his head. The woman was nuttier than a fruitcake and those were the

worst kind because they were unpredictable. He didn’t know if she had a weapon hidden,
but it was now or never. He rolled to a crouching position and tackled Gary. There was a bit
of a struggle and Gary elbowed him in the face. He thought he saw stars, but kept going. He
was going to be the victor in this battle. A shriek beside him almost caused him to lose his
position on top of Gary, but he refocused until he could finally smash a fist into Gary’s
happy face. Something was seriously wrong with that guy. Moby didn’t get up until he was
sure Gary was down for the count.

He looked over to see that Pete had restrained Leona in the grass. Moby moved to get

the rope from the chair. They would need to tie the two up and wait for the police. It was
going to be a long night. He passed the rope to Pete and collapsed beside good old Gary. He
kept the gun pointed at his kidnapper in case he woke up.

Once Pete had Leona tied up, he came over to Moby. Leona was rocking back and forth,

crying.

Pete knelt down in front of him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes.
“You okay?” Moby licked his lips. Was it getting hot? He was a bit dizzy.
“Am I okay? You were shot.”
Annabeth came racing down the path and ran right into Pete. Good thing too because if

she would have come at him, he probably would have passed out. His fucking arm hurt. He
took off his shirt and used it to help apply pressure to his wound. Who cared if it got ruined?
It wasn’t like he could salvage the thing—it had a hole in it.

“Hurts.”
“You okay, Moby?” Annabeth patted his shoulder. He did what he could not to wince.
“I’m good. You good?”
She nodded.
Gary started to stir so he punched him again. Not the best thing to do in front of the

little girl, but he wasn’t up to another wrestling match.

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“We only do that to the bad guys, got it, Annabeth?” Moby winked at her.
Her eyes were as wide as can be as she nodded again.
Pete huffed and used a hand to cover his mouth. He’d better not laugh or it would ruin

the whole effect.

“Annabeth, sit next to Moby. I’m going to call the police. Bet that detective will sing a

different tune now.” Pete didn’t go far, but just enough that they only heard the mumbled
end of his conversation.

“You aren’t going to die, are you, Moby?” She looked so serious.
“Not today, sweetheart.”
“Good. I like you.”
“I like you too.”
Annabeth lay down with her head in his lap. He found himself running his fingers

through her hair. He hoped the police got here quick. He needed a hospital, and Annabeth
needed a bed and for a new normal to start.

“Hey.”
He hadn’t noticed Pete coming back.
“Hey.” Moby smiled at Pete.
“I love you,” Pete blurted out.
Moby threw back his head and laughed before the pain got the better of him.
“You find that funny?” Pete glared at him.
“No, because I love you too. Just…” Moby chuckled.
Pete joined in. It really wasn’t funny, but it was a relief. He’d held feelings in for so long

it was good to be able to express them.

Finally.
He got serious for a second. “It isn’t your fault.”
Pete just looked at him.
“Whatever happened to that Stan guy, you need to forgive yourself no matter how

much it hurts. I know you didn’t kill him.”

“I did.”
“You didn’t kill him any more than you killed your family.”
“If I would have been there—”

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Moby tugged Pete closer and pressed their lips together.
“Maybe someday you’ll explain it all to me, but you listen to me right now, Pete Jakes.

You are not responsible for the whole world.”

“Yeah, Uncle Pete.”
Moby looked down. She’d been so still, he’d thought the girl had drifted off to sleep or

he wouldn’t have been so open with all his talk. He should have known better with
everything that had happened, but he wasn’t thinking too straight at the moment.

“I’ll try,” Pete finally said after their laughter had died down.
“Good. Now—I need a hospital.”
Pete sat down and pulled Moby and Annabeth onto his lap.
“I’m too big.”
“Shut it. I’m going to hold my family while we wait. Hey, Annabeth, what do you think

about moving to Kentucky?”

“Will I have my own room?”
“Of course. Once we get things figured out.”
“Can it be pink?”
“Anything you want.”
“Okay.”
If only life were as easy as agreeing to a pink room. Pete kissed his forehead and Moby

relaxed against him.

“You and me against the world?” Moby asked.
“Sounds like a plan.”
They heard sirens in the distance. Soon they would build a life together. Where it would

lead—who knew? The opportunities were endless.

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Epilogue

Five years later…

“Moby, you home?” Bulldog shut the door behind him and bent down to unlace his

boots. He tugged them off then put them on the mat along with his socks. He let his feet
scrunch into the soft rug in front of the door. His keys went into the bowl along with his
wallet. It was good to be home in a house he loved with the people that meant the most to
him. He wondered where Moby was. Maybe he was still at work.

Bulldog had moved to a training position in the Army so he was home most nights. It

was Moby who’d opted to get out. It was closer to his re-up time. He had stayed home with
Annabeth for a few months to help her get adjusted. It had just been the two of them for a
month when Bulldog had to go overseas for a mission, so he’d had to handle the court case
and the wait for the verdict.

Bulldog was very happy that both Leona and Gary had received life in prison. There

had already been too much death in all of their lives. He hoped Leona got the help that she
needed. He never did find out who Gary really was and why he’d agreed to help, but he
didn’t care anymore. That was the past and it needed to stay there.

Every now and again it would pop up, and he wondered what he could have done to

prevent the murder of his family. Moby was always there to remind him that it wasn’t his
fault, that he needed to not fear the bright light that was forgiveness. Most days he
remembered.

His last mission had been the longest month of his life and one of the reasons he’d

asked for a transfer. His LT had been good with it, if a bit sad that he was losing two good
men.

There was more to life than the Army now. The base was a great place for Annabeth.

She was still in therapy and might be for a long time, but she knew that he and Moby were
there for her. He’d attended a few sessions himself to help him get over the guilt that had
plagued him for so long.

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“Hey, you’re home early.” Moby came out from the back of the house and gave him a

kiss. He was sweaty, in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. Pete wanted to lick him all over.

“Yeah, light day today. I have my underlings giving some drills. Thought I’d come

home and see what you were up to.” Bulldog wiggled his eyebrows and drew Moby closer,
burying his head into Moby’s neck and taking a deep breath. Smelt like home.

He looked up in time to see Moby roll his eyes. “Underlings, huh? I thought I was the

only one who got to be under you.”

Bulldog snorted. Moby could still make him laugh. He had gone into the private sector

doing a boot camp style fitness programme. A lot of the military wives and some of their
husbands took his class. Bulldog was proud of Moby. They had really settled into their life.

“Where’s the squirt?”
“You’d better not let her hear you call her that.” Moby laughed. “She’s still at school

and going to a friend’s house for dinner.”

“Which friend?”
“Calm down, Cujo. It’s Mary’s house and we’ve already met her parents.”
Bulldog relaxed a little until he remembered that Mary had an older brother.
“Maybe—”
“No.”
“But—”
“I said no, Pete. Now why are you really home early?” Moby moved as close as he

could and nibbled on Bulldog’s neck.

Oh. Yeah.
He was home early, hoping to catch Moby without Annabeth around. It had been a

long couple of weeks of late nights, and he needed to reconnect with his lover.

“Are you busy?”
“Not right this minute.” Moby cocked his head and narrowed his gaze.
“Good.” Pete held out his hand and tugged Moby towards the bedroom.
“So you just came home to get laid?” Moby smirked.
“I need some Moby time.”
Moby snorted. “Moby time?”
Pete grinned and kept them moving. “I’ve missed you.”

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“It’s been a long week.” Moby squeezed his hand.
“It has. Now I’m ready to break in the weekend.”
“I’m all for it.” Moby went into the room and started taking off his clothes. Bulldog took

a moment to just watch his lover undress.

“Marry me.” It was out before he had even thought about it.
Moby stopped moving. “What?”
Bulldog cleared his throat. “I think we should get married.”
“It isn’t legal here.” Moby was still staring at him.
“No, I don’t care. Marry me.”
“I— Yes!” Moby threw himself at Bulldog and he stumbled against the door. At least it

was shut. He took the opportunity to lock it just in case.

Moby was kissing any skin he could touch. Bulldog guided him to the bed and finished

undressing his excited lover. He’d wanted to propose for a year, but with the federal
government not recognising gay marriage, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were married or
not. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about Moby if anything happened to him—at least
financially. Not that he was going anywhere for a long time.

Annabeth would be happy because she’d get to help plan. But now wasn’t for

weddings and such. Now was for making love with the man he adored above all else.

He never would have thought he’d be here five years ago. If he’d been told his life

would turn out so happy he would have scoffed.

Moby was wiggling underneath him, bringing Bulldog’s focus back to where it needed

to be.

Damn.
Pete had beaten him to it. Moby had been going to ask tonight at dinner. It was one of

the reasons Annabeth was out of the house. He wiggled his ass. The plug he had in had kept
him half hard for the last half hour. God, he needed Bulldog inside him.

Or maybe he’d take Bulldog while his own ass was full. That sounded like a better plan.
“Lube,” Moby managed to get out. He wanted it to last, but wasn’t sure he’d be able to

hold on to his orgasm. Moby reached for the bedside table and rummaged around while

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kissing Pete. He never got tired of kissing his man. He slid his tongue over Pete’s lips. “Get
yourself ready.”

He felt Pete shudder above him. Just wait until he sees the plug. Moby handed over the

lube and tugged at Pete’s shirt. He still had way too many clothes on. The bed dipped when
Pete shifted off the bed to finish undressing. Moby moved up the bed, the plug jostling. He
moaned, but kept going until he was propped against the headboard. He tugged his legs up,
letting his ass show.

“Fuck, Moby.”
“Not yet.” Moby winked.
Pete kicked off his pants and pushed his socks off before crawling up the bed.
“You drive me fucking crazy.” Pete caressed Moby’s ass and tugged on the plug.
“Later. I want inside you, Pete. Are you ready?” Moby knew he wasn’t. Pete hadn’t

even used the lube yet.

Moby closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. If he watched Pete stretch himself,

he would come right then and there. It didn’t take long until Pete gripped Moby’s dick,
slicking it up. Pete wasted no time crawling into Moby’s lap. He had to stretch his legs out,
and he groaned as he watched his cock slide into Pete’s ass. He loved seeing it. God, he was
so close and they hadn’t even really started. The only foreplay had been the proposal.

Pete started to move, but Moby put his hands on his thighs to stop him.
“Moby?” Pete slid his hands down Moby’s chest and tweaked his nipples.
“I love you.” Moby put his arms under Pete’s and drew his lover closer, taking his time

with light pecks to Pete’s lips, scraping his teeth down Pete’s chest before hugging his lover
close.

He started out with a slow rhythm. His heels dug into the bed and he helped Pete move

up and down. He rocked into Pete’s body, loving the tight ass clutching his shaft. Pete
moved to put a hand behind him, changing the angle. They both groaned and the slow pace
wasn’t enough anymore. Moby flipped them over and stared down at Pete. The love was
right there in his gaze. He couldn’t love Pete any more than he did right that moment.

Until Pete used his new position to play with the butt plug.
“Pete!” He was a lost cause. He thrust into Pete again and again, fast. With one more

tug on the plug, he was screaming his release.

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He fell forward and reached behind him. He had to get that damn thing out before he

exploded. He sighed when his body released it, and he threw it to the floor. He’d pick it up
later. Pete was still rocking against him. Moby eased out of his lover’s body and slid down so
he could finish Pete off in his mouth. He hummed once and Pete shot down his throat.

They both lay there for a bit. Neither could move and both were breathing hard. Moby

closed his eyes for a minute. He woke with a start when a door slammed.

“Annabeth is home,” Pete stated the obvious in a lazy sleepy voice. “Shit! Annabeth is

home.”

Moby chuckled against Pete’s chest. “It’s okay. The door is locked and we have a

bathroom right there.”

Pete scrambled off the bed and bent over. Moby used the opportunity to slap his ass.
“Hey!” Pete rubbed the offended part of his body and finished picking up the plug

before heading to the bathroom.

Life with the Jakes was never going to be boring.

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Ride Me

Jambrea Jo Jones

Excerpt

Chapter One

“What the hell?” I stopped inside the doorway of the warehouse. I was supposed to be

helping out for the fundraiser Dark Encounters was throwing, but I had no idea it would be
this extravagant. I should have known Trevor Keaton, the owner, would spare no expense.

It was decked out like a fair or their very own sex carnival. I didn’t know where to rest

my eyes first. There was every game imaginable, but with a sexual twist. Smack dab in the
middle of the room was a sex carousel—the carriages were the same I’d seen at an
amusement park before, but they had cuffs attached to them. A few people were already
buckled in for the ride with their partner of choice whipping, sucking or fucking them.

But that wasn’t the best thing about the ride. People were strapped to the stationary

horses. Well, draped over them. One of the men had a ball gag in his mouth with an
expression of awe on his face as his master used a crop on his back and ass. And even that
was tame compared to the horses that went up and down. Someone had created a chair with
a hole cut out of the bottom and welded it on top of a pole. Underneath that a fuck machine
moved up and down. Oh, god, I wanted to try it.

Around the edges of the big open space there was every kind of booth I could possibly

think of and some even beyond my imagination. I knew I wanted to explore, but I was
running late and had no idea where I was supposed to go—maybe I could check it out on my
break. I was drooling just thinking about it. One of those horses had to have my name on it. I
didn’t have a Sir—not that there hadn’t been offers—but I had my eye on one man.

The door clicked shut behind me as I stumbled forward. More people were coming. The

ticket counter, where people checked in, was right by the front entrance. My friend Eli

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manned the booth and the only thing he wore was a pair of leather shorts with his chained
collar—good thing it was warm in here. There were special passes for the patrons of Dark
Encounters so only they could get into the building. If they didn’t have the card, one of the
bouncers by the door would escort them out. Mr Keaton wouldn’t want to get the event shut
down, which was a good thing because I didn’t fancy spending the night in jail.

I waved to the two guys on guard duty tonight. Tommy and Phil. Nobody would mess

with them. They were mean-looking, but they were both nice as all get out. At least, I
thought so.

Being a private club did have some perks, like the fact that they could have a ‘sex fair’

in a building downtown. And the fundraiser was for a great cause. The proceeds would go to
the local AIDS hospice. Most of the workers were there for free tonight, their pay going to the
fund. I was one who donated my time. It really was a worthy cause.

“You’re late.”
I jumped. I hadn’t heard Mr Keaton sneak up on me.
“S-sorry, sir. I got lost. Where do you want me?” I wanted to put my hands in my

pockets, but my leather pants were so tight I could barely move. My boss made me nervous. I
clasped them in front of me instead and waited for his orders.

Wait. Did he? No, I had to be imagining it. There was no way Mr Keaton had licked his

lips. I had to be seeing things. And the man was sexy—six foot two with the body of a god.
He had shaved his head and I wanted to rub my hands all over it. No chest hair, but a happy
trail I’d like to follow if ever given the chance, but Mr Keaton never took a boy from his club.
And those eyes. I could look into those green orbs for hours.

But I was his employee—a little scrawny kid ten years his junior. I looked away and

willed myself not to blush. I wasn’t a kid, but I feared he felt that way about me. Mr Keaton
was always polite. And a great employer. Hell, I’d quit if I knew it would give me a chance
with my boss. Okay, not really, I needed the job, but it was a nice sentiment.

“Follow me, Franco.”
Oh, I would. I would follow him anywhere. His ass was hot in the skintight leathers he

wore. I almost ran into him. Not paying attention to where I was going. My mouth dropped
open when I saw the sex inspired contraption we’d stopped at.

“Is that—?”

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“Yes, it’s a Ferris wheel paddle.” Mr Keaton raised an eyebrow at me.
The thing was a mini Ferris wheel that was adjustable so it could be set at ass level.

Instead of seats, there were paddles. Who thought of these things?

“Am I supposed to take tickets?” I looked around, but the spot was pretty deserted. Of

course, not everyone was here yet. It was still early.

“No. We’re going to test it out. Drop your pants.”
I did a double take. He couldn’t—no way was he—oh shit, insta hard-on.
“Sir?”
Was he asking me to play with him?
“I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing me. It’s time to take a test drive. Don’t make me

tell you twice.”

That tone. I had to listen to it. Every fibre of my being wanted this—wanted Mr Keaton.
“Mr Keaton—”
“Trevor will be fine. When you aren’t calling me ‘Sir’.” He winked at me.
I scrambled out of my pants. This was surreal. I’d dreamt of this for months and no way

was I going to let him change his mind.

“That’s a good boy. Now come over here.”
My feet had a mind of their own as they followed his command. I stood right in front of

him, naked. I hadn’t bothered to wear a shirt. The uniform was casual at Dark Encounters.
Most of the men wore leather pants only. And underwear wasn’t an option in those things.

I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but I knew I was lean with only a little muscle tone. I

worked out, some, when I had time, which unfortunately wasn’t often. I’d never be as big as
Mr—Trevor. Yes, Trevor. Oh God.

I put my hand in front of my crotch, but I really couldn’t hide my dick because I was

already hard.

Trevor took my hands and moved them behind my back. He took the time to cup my

ass, giving it a good squeeze. I yelped and stood on my tip toes. My cock throbbed. He
pulled out a rope. I have no idea where he could have possibly been hiding it, but he used it
to bind my hands together.

“Your safe word is—”
“No.” I interrupted him.

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“No, you don’t want a safe word? Did I read you wrong, Franco?”
“Oh—no. No. I don’t want a safe word. I don’t need one. This isn’t a game. Not to me.”

I gulped. Should I tell him? “If I say no, you’ll listen. And I don’t think there is anything you
would do to me that would make me say no.” I bit my lip.

I was worried that he only wanted to play. I wasn’t that kind of guy. At least not

anymore. I wanted something real.

Trevor smiled and ran a hand down my cheek. I grinned back. Oh, this was going to

happen all right. He moved his fingers over my lips and I opened my mouth, sucking him in.
I moaned. That was just his finger. I wondered how the rest of him would taste and hoped
I’d have a chance to find out later.

He pulled free and took me by the shoulders. I thought for sure he was going to kiss

me, but he bent me over slightly and moved my hands more to the middle of my back,
leaving my cheeks free. Trevor backed me up until the cold contraption was resting on my
butt.

It was bound to be a tease. How hard could the thing really hit. A buzzing sound was

my only warning that the machine had been turned on.

Thwack. That wasn’t too bad. Thwack. Again, not too bad. But then the Ferris wheel sped

up. Thwack, thwack, thwack. All the hits were solid. Trevor had his body positioned in front of
me to steady me as the machine jolted me with each hit. It finally slowed down and stopped.
My ass was on fire, but I liked it. A lot. Pre-cum glistened on my dick. I needed to come.

Trevor’s soothed his hands over my burning flesh. “Beautiful.”
I was still bent over, Trevor’s body now over mine. I nuzzled my face into his hip. The

praise made me as warm on the inside as my butt was on the outside. He stroked me time
and time again until I was breathing slow and steady. He squeezed my ass—hard. I didn’t
even move, I let the sensation flow over me and closed my eyes. If I was in heaven, I never
wanted to leave.

“That’s my boy. Stand up.”
I was a little shaky, but with Trevor’s help I stood tall and proud in front of him with

my hands still tied behind my back. I wondered what he had in store for me next.

“Sir” I cleared my throat. “I have a shift—” I didn’t want to spoil the moment, but I

also had a job to do.

About the Author

Jambrea wanted to be the youngest romance author published, but life impeded the

dreams. She put her writing aside and went to college briefly, then enlisted in the Air

Force. After serving in the military, she returned home to Indiana to start her family.

A few years later, she discovered yahoo groups and book reviews. There was no

turning back. She was bit by the writing bug.

She enjoys spending time with her son when not writing and loves to receive reader

feedback. She’s addicted to the internet so feel free to email her anytime.

Email:

jambrea@jambrea.com

Jambrea loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and

author biography at

http://www.totallybound.com

Also by Jambrea Jo Jones

Love by Design

Wishing Star

Tell Me Now

Rayne’s Wild Ride

Seeds of Dawn: Dreams

Seeds of Dawn: Secrets

Seeds of Dawn: Inequities

Seeds of Dawn: Origins

Seeds of Dawn: Redemption

Seeds of Dawn: Absolution

Alliance: Retribution

Alliance: Salvation

Alliance: Freedom

Alliance: Reward

Alliance: Annihilation

Alliance: Avenger

Dark Encounters: Dominate Me

Dark Encounters: Feel Me

Semper Fi: Magnus

Semper Fi: Ben

Saddle Up N Ride: A Fistful of Emmett

Stealing My Heart: Stealing Michael

Unconventional at Best: Operation: Get Spencer

Unconventional in Atlanta: Where Tomorrow Shines

Stand to Attention: On the Home Front