Marina's Risk: Garza Security, #2

By Tobi Doyle

He's intense, crass, and Atlas would be jealous of his shoulders.

 

AJ Garza rescued her kidnapped father. Marina wants to know who organized the kidnapping. AJ wants Marina. She's good at math, bad at people, and one night with AJ seems like the perfect solution.

 

She's awkward, a stunner in fugly clothes, and deserves a country-club guy. Except, she's pregnant with his kid and her questions made her a target. And she trusts him, and that messes with his head. 

 

She's family, his family, but can he protect her and persuade her to take a chance on them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tobi Doyle
• Release date: May 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201051679

Tobi Doyle

Tobi Doyle was born in Massachusetts, grew up in California, lived in Texas, Indiana and settled in West Virginia seven years ago. She is happily married mother of three and even happier that she’s almost an empty nester. After spending years teaching middle school science her husband encouraged her to retire her red pens and follow her passion of writing and she’s never regretted a minute of it. Tobi writes steamy romances and her alter ego, Doyle MacBrayne writes YA and sweeter romances. You can find more of her books available at amazon here. You can follow her at her website tobidoyle.com, or on Facebook or Twitter @tobidoyle. She loves to hear from readers at [e-mail] and GREATLY appreciates reviews on Goodreads and Amazon. Rebound Baby, Too and Rebound Babies are the next in the series and are steamier – be forewarned ;) She’s included excerpts on the next page. Tobi has another series called Love at First Slight and you can find the first novella of the series Jason and Laura free on Smashwords.

Book preview

Chapter One

AJ hunkered down on the forest floor, slowed his breathing and waited for MaryAnn to quit yammering in his earpiece about the number of clicks to the kidnappers’ campsite and the other team members’ positions. MaryAnn, the new tech guy on the Garza Security team, was like a puppy on their first walk.

Shut up, AJ muttered.

MaryAnn’s voice trailed off.

Smoke from the campsite rolled toward him in the humid air. He could taste it. Another team member, Juju, was positioned next to him and things were moving according to plan. He didn’t need MaryAnn in his fucking head with a play-by-play of the overhead drone video.

Some stuff just didn’t add up. Like why did the kidnappers have a campfire in July in the Medellín rain forest? The smoke had been a freaking neon sign indicating their location. Something was off. This was his ninth extraction in three years and plan A always got screwed and moved to plan B, C, D. This one was clockwork perfect.

AJ tapped Juju’s shoulder and pointed to the right. He motioned to himself and then to the left. Juju nodded and moved right. The man moved silently, even though he was huge.

Carter’s voice came over the headset, In position, no visual of asset.

AJ crept to the left, choosing each footstep to avoid branches and twigs. He stopped twenty feet from the campsite. An old canvas tent, probably army surplus, was situated on the far side of the camp. In position, he whispered into the com.

He waited to hear from Juju and Randy.

Toffy, the final member of their five-person team stayed with MaryAnn at the small campsite where they’d slept last night. He was babysitting the enthusiastic and chatty newbie three miles away just in case MaryAnn made a mistake. They wouldn’t tell him that, he’d probably figure it out on his own when they did the next mission.

In position, Juju murmured.

Randy was the only member yet to report.

AJ knelt on the damp decomposing leaves on the forest floor. He hated the musty stink. Although, the DEET he’d practically bathed in yesterday covered most of the smell.

Two men drank coffee next to the campfire. It felt like a hundred degrees in a sauna and they drank hot coffee. These guys must be made of asbestos.

Two tones alerted the team Randy was in place, but too close to speak. Randy was a freakin’ ninja.

The plan was to watch for twenty minutes after the last man checked in. Last night the drone had found four heat signatures in the campsite, but AJ could only see two.

MaryAnn whispered, Two pairs. Two by fire, two in tent lying down.

AJ looked up but couldn’t see the drone or hear it over the racket from the birds and bugs. He wanted to enter the campsite now. Although AJ was the team leader, Randy was closest and had the line of sight and would make the call.

AJ waited in the filth with the anticipation curling in his belly, his muscles juicing up and ready to explode. This was his favorite part of the gig–not the waiting–but right before the fight.

It started to rain. Protected by a tree, the big fat drops fell around him.

The two men at the campfire walked toward the tent.

AJ’s gut tightened. Having three armed men near their asset was a problem. Three quick tones burst into his ear signaling to go. AJ bolted, running like he’d heard the starter’s gun at a race. He tore through the remaining twenty feet to the campsite, pulling his gun from the holster. Randy shot the two coffee drinkers and they fell, screaming.

Carter joined AJ at the entrance to the tent.

Juju and Randy positioned themselves behind the tent.

A man inside screamed, No, no, no, no… his voice rose in pitch and panic.

Juju nodded and Carter ripped the tent from the ground. One man stumbled out, older, and smelling like camphor and citronella.

AJ didn’t recognize him. He struck the butt of his gun across the man’s head.

The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Randy peeled back the tent flaps and looked inside. Peter Landvik? Randy waited for an answer.

Wouldn’t it be fucking hilarious if they were rescuing the wrong guy?

The man inside burst into tears.

He looked like shit, but then he’d been abducted weeks ago. He was alive, had all his fingers and while he needed a shave and some liquids and protein, he was better off than most of the guys they rescued.

That’s him, AJ said. He crouched down to get eye to eye with the guy. Peter, we’re here to take you home. Your family sent us. Belle, Robert, Neil, and Marina. AJ saw the recognition in the man’s eyes. He needed Peter to trust them otherwise they’d have to bind and carry his ass out of the now-muddy forest and that would really suck. Can you walk?

Peter sobbed but nodded his head. He stood and stepped gingerly over the camping equipment that had been strewn on the floor after Carter’s tent-tipping.

AJ held out his hand.

Peter grasped it. Thank you. His quiet voice sounded weak, but his grip was strong.

AJ offered his forearm for more balance.

Peter leaned against him.

Got him. On our way out. Randy announced to MaryAnn and Toffy. He charged up the hill, picking the easiest path.

AJ led them up the ravine, toward MaryAnn and Toffy’s location.

Peter stumbled.

Fuck it, AJ hauled the man over his shoulder. Peter’s thin frame was all sharp edges. His soft grunt was his only protest.

Let me know if you need to be put down. AJ clamped one arm around Peter’s thighs.

That was too easy, yeah? Juju murmured.

AJ nodded, flicking his eyes to Peter and back to Juju. They’d talk about it later.

The men carried Peter, switching off every fifteen to twenty minutes as they traversed the incline. It took them ninety minutes to reach Toffy and MaryAnn, which was good time considering the terrain.

Toffy had the stretcher covered with a blanket. Peter tumbled off Randy’s shoulder, but Toffy caught him before he hit the ground and eased him onto the stretcher.

Toffy handed a box of wet wipes to AJ. The two men cleaned Peter off as best as they could for the picture AJ would send to the family.

Hey, you okay man? Toffy checked Peter’s vitals and pupils.

Peter nodded. Yes. Thank God, you found me.

Toffy exchanged a look with AJ. It was too easy. He unscrewed a bottle of water and handed it to Peter. If you can’t drink this, we’ll set up an IV. Drink it slow, you don’t want to throw up.

Toffy and Carter grabbed the ends of the stretcher and hauled ass to the van hidden about a quarter mile away.

Randy smacked MaryAnn on the back of the head. Clicks? What the fuck, Chatty Kathy? We’re American, not military. Use goddamn English. Randy had grown up in Miami, like AJ, his brother Quin, and Lance, another member of their team. He had street smarts but no formal military training. MaryAnn had a military background and privileged upbringing, like Juju. Toffy was ex-Navy and scary as hell.

MaryAnn drew back, horrified. He looked as if he was expecting AJ to say something on his behalf.

AJ agreed with Randy. He lifted a dismissive shoulder. MaryAnn would either stay or quit. He was good, not as good as Bubbles, but he could probably learn.

MaryAnn turned and finished packing up their shit. Maybe he understood it had been too easy, and the guys felt unsettled.

Why the fuck had it been so easy?

Chapter Two

Tension spiked up Marina’s spine. It was the same sensation she got when watching epicfail videos—knowing the situation would not end well and twisting with the guilt that she should do something more productive with her time. But she couldn’t turn away. She stood frozen in the foyer, even though she should call the family lawyer and the doctor, but probably not in that order. Her eyes flicked between the fragile, bruised, and muddy body of her father, to the back of a filthy t-shirt stretched across shoulders worthy of the Titan god, Atlas. Roman gladiators would beg for those shoulders. He was Goliath to Michelangelo’s David. The t-shirt was painted in mud, leaves, and possibly spiderwebs like an abstract painting. Maybe a Jackson Pollock or a Kandinsky?

This was not good. She shouldn’t be concerned about the gladiator, AJ Garza. Or the way the leaf fluttered with each expansion of breath as if it was trying to gain the man’s notice. Like her. He was bigger than any man she’d ever met, personally. A black-web belt lashed dark cargo pants to lean hips, and the pockets bulged with secrets. Regardless of the asymmetrical clutter on his back, or the funky smell that announced his presence, his body was perfect.

And he’d found her father and returned him to safety.

For three weeks, her dad had been held somewhere, apparently muddy, while they arranged for the ransom transfer. In reality, they’d hired Garza security which brought the gladiator and his men into her home, and her life. They’d made no promises, charged a hefty fee, and said they’d be back.

She should have felt relief, even joy. Instead, her body coiled, waiting for something more to happen. Her brothers and stepmother talked rapidly, firing questions at the gladiator who said nothing. Her father said little, his voice gravelly and tired.

Marina stepped forward, hugging her father’s frail frame and whispered, What do you need?

He patted her back. A shower and to sleep in my own bed.

Of course, Belle, her stepmother cooed. Robert and Neil, help your father upstairs. Mr. Garza, thank you, Marina will assist you with anything you need.

The gladiator turned to face her, amused brown eyes slid from her bare feet to her calves. His head cocked to the side as his gaze continued upward, taking in her bright red silk shirt dress, pausing at her breasts, before finally meeting her eyes.

Asshole.

She raised an eyebrow, stared at his crotch, which seemed to salute, and shrugged with what she hoped appeared to be disinterest. Marina turned and checked the buttons on the front of her dress were fastened before hastening to the kitchen.

Did you want coffee, or a sandwich? she asked.

No response came from the hulking man behind her. Marina turned.

AJ stopped just inside her personal bubble.

His intimidating presence startled her and she jumped back pulling a small stick, maybe a pine needle, off the front of his shirt.

Sandwich and water, please. His voice was quiet, but easy to hear in the still house.

It speaks. Relieved to have her presence acknowledged finally, she busied herself with sandwich making.

He brushed past her to the kitchen sink and washed his hands, his forearm’s muscles dancing when he moved.

What? His voice caressed her ears.

And he’d caught her ogling. Surely, he was used to women staring at him. No one looked like he did without noticing that people noticed. Marina handed him a dishtowel to dry his hands and ignored his question. Thank you for finding my father.

He nodded.

Do you know why he was taken? I mean, we’re not the richest people in Colombia. We’re not even the richest Americans.

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers and not her breasts. He folded the towel and placed it on the counter.

She handed him a cold bottle of water, which he accepted with a nod. He gracefully twisted the cap off and tilted his head back as he swallowed. Even his jaw was attractive. Dirt smeared his neck, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. He smelled a little like dirty goat, but then, he had been in a jungle rescuing her father so…

Marina turned back to sandwich-making and slapped it on a plate along with an apple.

He took it and handed her the empty water bottle.

Would you like another water?

Yeah.

She pulled another bottle out of the refrigerator and recycled the empty one under the sink.

Mr. Garza, she said.

Call me AJ.

AJ, I was wondering if we could talk in private?

He glanced around the empty kitchen. Her family probably remained in her father’s suite of rooms upstairs, pestering him with questions, which was fine, but she wanted to know what AJ saw when he found her father.

Please? she prompted him.

You got a shower in your room?

Yes.

He nodded, stepping inside her bubble again. Lead the way.

She froze, her comprehension sluggish. To my room? she clarified.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Lady, I’m officially off the clock. You wanna talk more privately than here, we’re gonna do it where I can take a shower.

Apparently, the gladiator didn’t want to smell like a goat. Okay. She turned and walked toward the East wing. My name is Marina.

Why are you on the servant’s side of the house? AJ asked mere inches behind her, startling her once again.

She whirled around. Stop doing that! She resisted the urge to stamp her foot because she was not a silly schoolgirl, regardless of her hormones that acted otherwise.

Doing what? A corner of his mouth tipped up with a smile he refused to share.

Sneaking up on me. Marina crossed her arms, quelling the urge to hit him because he was filthy.

He spread his hands out in exasperation, keeping the sandwich and apple balanced on the plate. You knew I was behind you.

She turned, and pushed her bedroom door open.

Why are you on the servant’s side of the house? he asked again, closing the bedroom door behind him and locking it.

Why did you do that? Marina heard the sharpness of her tone and stepped further back putting more space between them.

Because I’m gonna take a shower and I don’t take my gun off unless the door is locked.

Oh. That made sense. Gladiator skills included being safety conscious. Right?

He raised an eyebrow and waited for Marina’s answer. He placed the water bottle and plate on the dresser and ate the sandwich in four bites.

Marina wished she’d made him a second sandwich. We rented the house for the project. My oldest brother brought his wife and kids, it made more sense for them to take the rooms on the East wing. Besides, it’s just a bedroom.

He opened the bottle of water and looked around the room while drinking. Why not rent a different house?

I don’t know. Why did she have to sound so flustered?

His eyes scanned the sparse furnishings, her closet, organized by color and style and overflowing. But very organized. His eyes widened and his lips twitched.

I like things organized. Her tone was a bit haughty, but then she really didn’t need to explain herself to a stranger.

His lips twitched again, before he walked to the bathroom. He placed the now empty water bottle beside the sink. He may have muttered, Admitting it is the first step.

Asshole.

It’s a tiny closet, she argued. If I didn’t organize it, I’d never find anything.

He pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

Oh, sweet heavenly hosts…

So many muscles, and all in the right place. Nothing like her brothers. They weren’t exactly fat, but in their family, muscle definition was found in the dictionary, not in actual practice.

AJ bent over, untied his boots and kicked them off. He dragged his socks off and tucked them inside his boots. Marina couldn’t help but notice his perfect butt. She wondered if he intentionally bent over, like Neil’s girlfriend who’d contort herself into the oddest positions to make her B-cups appear larger.

I thought you wanted to talk. He opened the shower stall door and turned on the shower.

I wanted your opinion on the kidnappers. Marina swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Would he get naked in front of her? And would she mind?

His eyes narrowed. What about them?

Well, do you think someone paid them to kidnap my father? Do you think they were smart enough to come up with the idea on their own? Why was my father targeted? What was the place like where you found him?

It was in the jungle. A small campsite, crude, and new.

New? What do you mean? His hands moved to his belt buckle and Marina lunged forward, placing her hands over his. Wait a minute, please.

He shook her hands off. We’re on my time now. You wanna talk, fine. But I’m taking a shower.

You can’t give me five minutes?

In answer, he turned.

Marina closed her eyes and heard the rasp of the zipper, then his pants thunk to the floor. Apparently, the gun was in one of the pockets. She sneaked a peek of him stepping–gloriously naked–into the combination bathtub and shower.

Her body swayed toward the shower, and she momentarily considered joining him.

Instead, she held a washcloth up to the door.

AJ rolled open the door slightly and steam filled the room, billowing out.

Sweat beaded on her lip and between her breasts. She waggled the washcloth through the doorway, but his hand grasped her wrist and yanked Marina inside. She caught her ankle on the lip of the tub, lurched forward and plastered her chest against his.

He covered her mouth with his hand and muffled her surprised yelp while lifting her into the shower. Turn around, he whispered.

Water dripped off Marina and the silk dress clung to her. She turned to face the wall, her hands fisted and anger brewing.

His hand slipped from her mouth as she turned, and he leaned forward putting his lips next to her ear. Now, if you wanna fuck, take your dress off. You wanna talk, talk. He stepped away, giving her space to decide. The water struck her from all different angles after ricocheting off his muscles. His very muscly muscles.

Fuck…

The thought boomeranged around her shocked brain. Crass, crude but very descriptive.

Was she actually considering the request?

Marina reasoned her sexual attraction to him was purely Darwinian based, and she could overcome the lust with logic. Plus, he’d just ruined one of her favorite dresses.

Her logical brain took over, ready to chide him. You’re an asshole. Why did you pull me in here? I could have easily talked to you while remaining outside the shower and dry.

Nope. The fragrance of her shampoo filled the small space while she listened to the water sluicing off his body. She refused to turn around, instead pulling at the front of the dress, which was transparent when wet. Probably why it was dry-clean only.

Tell me about the campsite, she said.

I did.

"How many people were there?’

Three. All men, looked like hired mercenaries, and not very good ones. Late forties.

Why would someone hire mercenaries to kidnap my father?

Money.

She turned around and the water bounced into her eyes. She shielded her eyes from the oncoming spray, but not before noticing that he was definitely ready for the previously mentioned first option.

His penis was distracting–and mesmerizing. A darker shade than his olive skin, and veiny. Nothing like her toy… Do you think you can find out who hired them?

Sure. His hand reached out and his forefinger touched the top button of the dress.

She slapped his hand away, not liking his insinuation.

He laughed, his abdomen contracting, his cock bobbing.

Her eyes followed it like it was a metronome.

Lady, you know you want to touch me.

She curled her hands into fists at her sides and tilted her chin, meeting his eyes with a glare. Of course, I want to touch you. You’re extremely physically attractive and you know it. You’re also an asshole. She didn’t add that she had standards. She did have standards. She was also so out of her depth with men like him. Give her an actuary or an engineer and she was fine. Men with muscles? They didn’t even like to talk about the weather.

His eyebrows shot up and then furrowed, as if comprehension was an issue. It definitely caused his resolve to flag, his penis deflated like a balloon with a small leak.

Eyes up here, lady, he murmured.

It’s Marina.

Yeah. Your name suits your eyes.

She blinked. Was that a compliment? Her eyes were green-blue or blue-green, depending on the day. They were her only feature she liked.

His hand slid behind her neck and tightened. Not threatening, and not an unpleasant sensation. Twenty-two years old