Chain of Command

By HelenKay Dimon

Book one of Greenway Range

Retired marine Sawyer Cain can't forget all he's seen and lost, but he can try to start over. Opening a gun range with his closest friends is the first step toward a new lifeone where he finally buries the guilt he can't seem to shake. So much depends on the property he needs to buy and the gorgeous but completely frustrating woman who refuses to sell it.

Hailey Thorne is donewith loss and with anything military, after the closest thing she had to an uncle died in Afghanistan. When Sawyer shows up on her porch he has military written all over him. He's one more in a long line of people who wants the land she inherited, and suddenly he's everywhere she goes. Hailey can't get the broad-shouldered, dirty-talking, dead-serious man out of her head. Or her life.

Sawyer's not above using his skills in the bedroom to try to convince her to sell, and Hailey is more than willing to let him. Their pleasure-only arrangement works until emotions get in the way. But Sawyer has a secret he's convinced will have Hailey hating him forever, and Hailey's not willing to risk loving anyone she could lose.

72,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carina Press
• Release date: Mar 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781426899584

HelenKay Dimon

Helenkay Dimon spent the years before becoming a romance author as a . . . divorce attorney. Not the usual transition, she knows. Good news is she now writes full time and is much happier. She has sold over thirty novels, novellas, and shorts to numerous publishers. Her nationally bestselling and award-winning books have been showcased in numerous venues, and her books have twice been named "Red-Hot Reads" and excerpted in Cosmopolitan magazine. But if you ask her, she'll tell you the best part of the job is never having to wear pantyhose again.

Book preview

Chapter One

Real-life Sawyer Cain proved far more potent than the version she’d seen in photographs. Dark hair all grown out from his military days, broad shoulders...that expansive muscled back. Hailey Thorne picked him out from fifteen feet away, across a crowded bar. Bad lighting and all. It was almost too easy to spot him and zoom in for a better look.

Not that she was here to gawk, though it certainly didn’t hurt anything to steal a moment or two and admire the guy from a safe distance. Men did that sort of thing all the time. No reason a woman couldn’t engage in a bit of male appreciation now and then. But this was about recon. She’d heard all about him. He kept contacting her. Leaving messages that highlighted his commanding presence without saying much at all.

At first she’d been intrigued...well, to be honest, she’d never stopped being intrigued, which explained why she tracked him down. Not hard to do in the small area north of San Diego. The sleepy beach-town atmosphere—even though the town sat miles away from the water—meant new people stuck out, especially ones that looked like him.

And Sawyer had made an impression. He’d also been asking about her. Even stumbled into her friend’s bakery and dropped her name. From what Hailey picked up, Sawyer pegged her as being older and didn’t have a photo or clear description. Her knowing about him and him only knowing her name made him interesting. It also put him squarely on her radar.

Grabbing the opportunity to meet him on neutral turf with all the barriers down seemed like a good idea. Or it did until he turned his head and pinned her with an intense stare. The face was as impressive as the rest of him.

She forced her legs to move. She aimed for a self-assured walk in her spiky heels and dark jeans but feared her steps came off as clunky. Suddenly each thigh weighed a hundred pounds and she all but dragged them along with her.

An odd sensation but one Sawyer didn’t appear to notice. No, he watched her every move with his gaze performing a quick bounce up and down her body as a smile formed on his lips. When she got closer, he nodded toward the empty barstool next to him.

She didn’t play hard to get. She wasn’t there to ignore him, so she slid onto the seat and tried not to notice how their legs touched. The fact he never broke eye contact set off some sort of weird fluttering in her chest. She chalked it up to indigestion because she was absolutely not the fluttering type.

What are you having? he asked.

The deep voice skidded across her senses. It figured he sounded as good as he looked. The guy did not make the whole staking him out and staying cool thing very easy. Whatever you’re having.

You can’t go wrong with beer. He winked at her then signaled the bartender.

Women talked about the parts of a man they found attractive. Ass, shoulders, face. Sawyer scored high in all three. But she always looked at the hands. She liked long fingers and clean nails. Not too pretty. Hands that showed off a work ethic and certain strength, along with a promise that he knew what to do with them when the lights went off. Damn if Sawyer didn’t win that contest too.

He held out one out to her. I’m Sawyer.

She shook it...while she lied her butt off. Let’s call me Sue.

The bartender plunked a bottle and glass down in front of her. She grabbed for the bottle to keep from latching on to the handshake too long.

So... Sawyer rested his elbows on the bar and managed to look hot doing even something that mundane. Do you usually call yourself something other than Sue?

Usually. But the goal was to keep her identity a secret. Just for now, until she could figure out the smooth-talking hottie’s real game.

Aren’t you the cryptic one?

I hear some men find that compelling. She’d never been the mysterious type. More like practical and a straight shooter, but there was something about the innocent flirting, the testing of a surprise attraction that struck her as pretty empowering.

I can guarantee you have my attention. He spun the bottle around until the bottom clanked against the wood bar. Had it from the second you walked in the door.

That made two of them. You’re quite the sweet talker.

For the record, talking is just one of my skills.

Did his voice dip even lower? Oh really?

For a second her reason for coming here tonight, to track down the guy who kept asking to meet her, slipped from her mind. The noise of the bar, the hum of conversation and music playing in the background, faded away. There was just him and her. And that face...sweet baby Jesus. Pronounced cheekbones and a firm chin. He could be on a recruitment poster for just about anything. People would line up to join.

Not to brag, but... He wiggled his eyebrows. On him it came off as cute rather than cheesy.

She’d really been hoping for cheesy. For anything that would make it easy for her to write him off, go home, kick off the stupid shoes and send a polite thanks, but no thanks text in response to his requests for attention. But, no.

Do tell. The words slipped out of her before common sense could take hold.

There are things I like to do. His eyes actually gleamed a bit as he said the words.

Green. She’d been unable to tell the color of his eyes in the photos Rob left, but now she knew. Grass green, a bright shot of color in the middle of the whole Tall, Dark and Holy-Hell-He’s-Hot thing he had going on.

She inhaled, trying to quiet the sudden buzzing sound in her brain. Like?

Are you sure you want to know?

She wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he spit it out. Yes.

They’re pretty naughty. He smiled. So am I.

This guy knew how to flirt. Don’t keep me waiting.

Things I’d do with my mouth and hands. Over your skin. Across your collarbone...down to the small of your back. Heated touches that start a countdown running in your head while you beg for more. He set the bottle away from him. Things that involve us getting out of here. Me sliding those sexy jeans down your legs. Smelling you. Tasting you.

Sweet damn. She didn’t do one-night stands and as a rule she stayed away from military guys. Far away. She’d suffered one loss too many to dive back into that pool. Her parents. A boyfriend. Rob Turner, the uncle-in-every-way-but-blood who raised her but died in Afghanistan a little more than a year ago. Sawyer might be a retired marine but he still possessed the mindset. They all owned it. That unrelenting need to get back in the game. And she didn’t need another rush into a fire type.

But that didn’t diminish his hotness. Not one bit, which ticked her off. He talked with that smoky edge to his voice and she wanted to strip off her bra.

Maybe meeting him at a bar had been a bad idea. Like, epically bad.

After years of obvious matchmaking attempts and misfires, Rob had used a lighter touch when it came to Sawyer. Talked about his honor and decency, sent photos and never let a letter or call go by without mentioning the guy.

Interesting how Rob left out the part about how she would meet Sawyer and be struck dumb for the first time in her life. And how annoying was that?

That is quite a line you have there, Sawyer. Good thing she didn’t have a glass of water in front of her or she might splash herself with it. She settled for taking a long swig of beer instead.

Believe it or not, I didn’t come here tonight looking for a good time. He leaned in closer. Not that I would say no.

Okay.

His eyes widened. "Okay or okay?"

Much more of that and she’d drag him out to her car. What did you want when you walked through that door?

He shrugged. A few minutes to think and plan.

Not something she understood. Even with the temporary roommate she had hours to fill. Too many minutes to think about loss and what she wanted to do next. Her life hovered in a holding pattern and she had no one to blame but herself. About?

I have some decisions to make. He traced a finger over the bottle’s label.

She managed to pull her gaze away from his hand but it wasn’t easy. Neither was forcing her voice to stay light. And you said I was cryptic.

I have a business I’m trying to get off the ground and I need some land... His voice drifted off. Not important.

Disappointment filled her. Flooded through her and wiped out everything else.

His comment explained the calls. When he’d left messages saying he had an issue to discuss with her he’d actually meant business. Like everyone else, he called because she inherited Rob’s land. Acres of open space in San Diego County. The same land that had a line of investors, developers and scam artists coming to her door.

The whole scene exhausted her. The idea Sawyer was one of them, the fast-talking salesmen types, chilled the heat running through her. Here she thought he’d been following up on Rob’s attempts to throw them together. Not that she planned to go along with that, but for a second there she hadn’t hated the idea.

She shifted on the stool, putting a bit of space between them. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

She could hear the ice in her voice. Hard to hide it since it flowed through her.

If he heard it, he didn’t let on. He kept picking at the label. That depends on someone other than me.

Who? But she knew. On her. One more business guy looking to partner up and make some money. Blah.

Again, not important. He pointed at the bottle in her hand. Want another?

Until that minute she hadn’t realized she held the bottle in a death grip. She forced her palm to unclench even as everything inside her tightened. I should go.

Huh. Not a question. He made the noise and shot her a look. A bit confused. Maybe disappointed.

Well, that made two of them.

One of her feet hit the floor as she got ready to make a run for it. But his expression stopped her. It was as if he sized her up and found something interesting. Like a bug trapped under a glass.

She couldn’t help but ask. What?

Your voice. His eyes narrowed. You sound angry all of a sudden and I’m wondering why.

That was fair. It wasn’t as if he’d actually done anything wrong. They didn’t have a deal or an understanding. Hell, he didn’t even know who she really was. Still, she couldn’t help the kick of frustration and overall feeling of grumpiness that worked through her as she watched him now.

No. She slid all the way off the stool and stood on the side farthest away from him. But I am going to leave.

Go home and curse a little. Not listen to his voicemail just to hear the sound of his sexy voice, because that would be pathetic and she’d done enough sad things for one evening.

He turned in his seat. His gaze never strayed. He didn’t glance around the bar or let his attention wander to other women walking by, even though more than one openly stared at him. Alone?

Yes. Though she doubted she’d forget him. No matter how much she wanted to.

Ah. He put a hand on the bar. Had his cell in his hand and held it up. Am I wasting my time if I ask for your number?

If he only knew... You’ll figure it out.

I hope that means we’ll meet again.

There was no easy way to end this, so she went with one bit of truth about the relationship he didn’t even know they had. I’m sure you’ll be in touch.

Chapter Two

For the first time in his life Sawyer Cain walked into battle without a single weapon. He came armed with nothing more than a smile. Big fucking mistake.

He stood on the front porch of the craftsman-style bungalow with his hand still in midair from knocking on the door. Very little shook him but the sight that greeted him had him taking a step back.

A woman with long brown hair and big brown eyes, all smoking hot and curvy in slim black jeans and a shirt unbuttoned just low enough for him to get a peek at the ribbed white tank underneath. Not just a woman. The woman. The one from the bar two nights before. The same one who had starred in two wet dreams since then. The one he sat at the bar waiting for last night as he hoped she’d make a reappearance.

He didn’t expect to see her here. He wasn’t even sure what her presence here, at this moment, meant. The baseball bat in her hand also needed some explanation.

Sue. He didn’t know what else to say, so he went with that.

Sawyer. Her expression didn’t change. She sure didn’t appear surprised to have him standing on the other side of the door.

It was almost as if she’d expected him, which had him replaying and rethinking every minute of that conversation at the bar. He’d get around to asking about that as soon as she lowered her arm. Is there any chance you’d consider putting the weapon aside?

She glanced down her arm. It’s a bat.

Right, and I don’t want you swinging it at my head. He didn’t know what he’d done to tick her off, but he worried she might aim for his nuts. If so, she’d better get ready to see an Olympic-qualifying jump over the side of the railing.

He’d liked watching her on a barstool with a beer in her hand. But he had to admit that this version, the non-flirting kind, didn’t exactly turn him off. The opposite, actually. The could-kick-his-ass thing was kind of hot. The idea of a woman who didn’t intimidate or mind his size or bluster had him thinking about the fire they could ignite in bed.

But now was not the time for his mind to wander.

I’m just standing here on my porch, waiting to hear what you say next. She didn’t swing the bat or level it at him. Merely leaned on it like a walking stick, looking ready to take a whack at him if needed.

But he had to admit she wasn’t totally out of line with the defensive moves. He didn’t exactly call first. Not this time. After having message after message ignored, he’d gone for the in-person approach, which in hindsight might have been a mistake. I think we’re both hoping it’s brilliant.

You could always scoot down those steps and get back in your car. She looked entirely too happy about that suggestion. You’ll see the no-trespassing sign on your way out. Follow it this time.

Scoot? Not exactly a word he expected from a twenty-something wearing body-skimming clothes that made his eyes cross and his mind wander to what her skin might taste like. He’d spent most of last night doing just that, damn her. Not that he could afford to notice...or taste any part of her. Not now that she had something to do with this house and this land.

He cleared his throat and got back to not noticing. Do you always greet visitors with a bat? Because I seem to remember you being more friendly the other night.

That night I walked into a public place. Today you snuck through a locked gate.

Okay, wait a second. That didn’t happen. No gate. No lock. No way.

He glanced around, taking in the acres of open land. Dry brush mixed with greenery and patches of brown. This part of San Diego County, thirty miles north of downtown and hugging the west side of Lake Hodges, got little rain but allowed for space. Acres and acres of it, which was exactly what he needed.

He’d made so many promises to the people he cared about. They’d stay in San Diego and open a new business. No working for the government or other people or getting shot at for a living. For him, opening a gun range guaranteed he’d be able to keep them all together. He’d lost so much, including coming within an inch or two of losing his humanity. The desperation to hold onto something ate at him, and the answer hinged on getting this land.

She twirled the bat. Just stood there and gave it a little spin.

The way he saw it she was a bit too comfortable handling that thing. The gate was open.

She frowned. Not possible.

He refused to engage in an argument about what didn’t happen. Still, being pegged as a guy who broke onto private property didn’t exactly sit right with him. Not after he’d gone on about what he could do with his tongue once he got her naked...or was that the dream. He couldn’t tell anymore. Standing in front of her, seeing the face that haunted him, had reality blurring on him.

He stuck to the gate and practical bullshit to keep from letting his gaze travel and risk a hit with that bat. I planned to buzz in using the intercom at the end of the drive but figured it was safe to come up when I saw the open gate. But right now I’m wondering why.

One skill he’d picked up in special-ops training—never show fear or confusion or the enemy would pounce—served him well in most aspects of life, including dealing with women. He sensed this woman in particular shared his philosophy. He could almost see her mind working—assessing and analyzing—all while calculating the perfect death blow.

Where was she when he’d needed a secret weapon in Afghanistan? She’d clearly been undercover in the bar. No question she’d known who he was. Not many people got the jump on him. He had to give her credit.

She bit down on her lip in what looked like an attempt to hide a smile. "Why are you here?"

Finally, a topic he could handle, but still... I’m wondering the same thing about you. First you walked into the bar. Now you’re at this house.

She sighed. You answer first then I will.

Not exactly his preferred way of handling the situation, but he’d play along. I wanted to talk with Hailey Thorne.

Yeah, I figured that much out already.

So much for thinking he had the conversation under control. He shifted, keeping his back to the car only a few feet away because for one of the few times in his life it was better to keep his back exposed than his front.

She nodded. Go ahead.

Looked like they circled right back and crashed into another roadblock. He didn’t have a lot of patience but he was the one with his hand out. The one who needed this to run smoothly...maybe that would start happening soon. He’d spent most of his life managing people and situations. He suddenly missed being in charge.

Trying very hard not to issue an order, which was exactly what he wanted to do even though it would almost guarantee he’d never see her naked, he took another run at the business issue. Once he got that settled he could concentrate on her. Could you get Hailey for me? When she just stood there, he added one thing he thought might help. Please.

I am her.

Nope. But it made sense and explained so much. He’d been calling and she came to find him. She used a fake name. He made an awkward pass.

She smiled.

Shit.

You can’t be... Somewhere in the last five seconds he’d lost the string of the conversation and quite possibly the ability to comprehend simple sentences.

He thought back to all those talks with Rob in between scouting and briefings. After conducting deep recon and targeted direct-action missions, Sawyer would come back and check in before heading out again. He’d spent a lot of those hours during his time in the northern Badghis Province of Afghanistan fighting off boredom when he wasn’t gathering intel, evading the enemy and launching offensive strikes. Hours where he’d find Rob, a contractor with serious access to sensitive information, and think about anything but shooting and dying.

For Rob that meant a sweet piece of land northeast of downtown San Diego he planned to share with his fiancée, if he could convince her to move there. He talked about the land and her. Then he talked about Hailey, someone he said he’d known forever. Told Sawyer to find her when he got out of the marines. Rob described her as someone very dear to him which always struck Sawyer as an odd term and had him wondering if there was something more between them, which was why Sawyer expected someone older, not a woman who could be Rob’s daughter.

Sawyer thought maybe the current disconnect was his fault for not checking in sooner. He’d kicked around for months after leaving the marines before he put his life back together, but he had it under control now. Except for Hailey, the woman he expected to be in her forties or fifties and was anything but.

Worse, Sue was really Hailey. That meant the woman he wanted to fuck and the woman he needed for the land deal were the same. No way could that end well.

A movement in the front window next to her left shoulder grabbed his attention. The curtain shifted. A slight but very real shift. The striped pattern no longer lined up the same way.

Looked as if they had an audience. Probably a smart security choice on her part. He could admire that. A person couldn’t be too careful, especially living in a place without any visible sign of neighbors.

Why is your friend hiding in the car? She pointed at the vehicle waiting behind him.

Sawyer didn’t bother to look. Didn’t have to. He knew the shit he was going to take when he climbed back in the car. Jason McAdams was not the type of friend to let this moment pass without comment. Not that Sawyer had time to worry about that now. Ignore him. He’s an idiot.

Her frown lingered. That’s not actually an answer to my question, but it’s probably good information to have.

Sawyer’s patience officially expired. Frustration rumbled around inside him and he fought back to urge to shift his weight around. Time to wrap this up, or at least get the topic back on track. He didn’t drive here for a game of verbal gymnastics. I came about the property, but you probably know that because of what I said the other night.

Which property?

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He’d tried charm, or his version of it. He didn’t have many plays left. We seem to be having trouble with names and topics. Maybe it’s the door. May I come in?

What he really wanted to do was go back to the bar and start over. This time work on a smoother delivery. Get to know her before talking about stripping her underwear off with his teeth. Then maybe this moment would run a bit better, though he would not bet any money on that.

No. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t bother to explain either.

Okay, not the answer I expected. Though he had to admit he found her in-control attitude pretty damn hot. He just wished the attitude was aimed at someone else.

You see a woman with a bat and you think you’re going to be welcome inside her house even though she doesn’t know you? The same woman, I might add, who you basically told you needed only for her property. She hesitated over each word as if she were explaining her position to a child.

He