His Valentine

By Sue Brown

Some men give flowers for Valentine’s Day. Mitch gives Jake two nights in the field with men who hate his guts.

Jake Tyler got a second chance at love with Mitch Mitchelson at J.T’s Bar, and he’s not letting go of that. So when Mitch is offered a job at the covert ops agency, Jake follows him, taking the job of trainer. But it doesn’t take him long to realize he hates the work. Not only does he doubt his skills, the trainees dismiss him as little more than a bartender.
Mitch can see his husband’s unhappy, and he hates it. He knows Jake is craving action and the old team around him. So Mitch arranges for the rookie team to be sent on a retrieval exercise in the field—with Jake as the package. Jake can’t figure how being away from Mitch surrounded by men who hate his guts is going to help anything. But Mitch, as ever, has a plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Brown
• Release date: Jun 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215957608

Sue Brown

Sue Brown is a Londoner with a dream to live on a small island. Coffee fuels her addiction to writing romance with hot guys loving each other, and her Adorkadog snores in harmony as she creates.Join her newsletter to follow Sue's news, plans, and stories.Newsletter - http://bit.ly/SueBrownNews

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Chapter One

Jake Tyler stared bleakly into the glass in his hand. He swirled the whiskey around, watching it catch the light from the fire, then knocked the amber liquid back, gasping as it burned down his throat. Riley needed to keep top shelf liquor in his stock. He’d had better in his bar. It didn’t stop him pouring another, this time a double.

Jake was a beer man but after the day he’d had, tonight was a liquor night. He’d pay for it in the morning, but he didn’t care. He was homesick for his bar in Wyoming. Returning to Virginia had been a huge mistake. What did he think he was doing? Mitch had laughed at Jake’s excitement at returning to his old life as part of the agency. Except he hadn’t returned to his old life, had he? Then he’d been an operative sent on missions as part of a tight-knit team. Now he was just a trainer. Jake pulled a face. A trainer. Fuck. He knocked back the whiskey and poured another.

Eight months previously, he’d said goodbye to J.T’s Bar and left it in the hands of his co-owner, Howie, and Si, Jake’s ex-team-mate. They lived in what had been their old home before Mitch moved to Wyoming and Riley moved in. Now he lived with his girlfriend but most of his gear was still at the house. It was complicated. Hell, Jake was still processing the fact Si and Howie were back together and married. Yeah, it took Jake time to get his head around these things. Si and Howie owned the bar and he had…nothing.

Except a man he loved and a job he hated. Fuck, he really hated his job.

Jake shook his head and wished he hadn’t as his head spun in lazy circles and his stomach churned. He took a few deep breaths. Okay, that was better. Everything calmed. Maybe he needed water. He looked at his glass and shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to quit drinking.

The problem was him. Jake knew that. He’d been excited about returning to the agency, going back to a part of his life he’d loved until it turned to hell. Except it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same.

He and Mitch had returned because Mitch had been offered the section leader’s job after Lukas declared his intention to resign and move to the Netherlands to get married. It had been a done deal. Mitch had done his best to adjust to life as a bartender, but his heart lay with the agency. Lukas had always grumbled he’d never really left with the amount of time he spent hanging around the place.

It had been different for Jake. He’d walked away from the agency when his sister was killed and never looked back. J.T’s bar had been his baby. Well, his and Howie’s. He had something there. But where Mitch went Jake would follow because Mitch held Jake’s heart in his hands, and he couldn’t bear to be apart from Mitch again. The last time had almost killed him.

Jake sipped the whiskey, slower this time, and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and appreciating the warmth of the fire on his socked feet. He’d spent the day in the field with the new recruits and he’d come home frozen to the bone. The recruits were right. He was getting soft. Jake huffed. Yeah, he’d been thrilled to overhear that nugget. And the agreement from the other recruits. They had no respect for him. Mitch was a different matter. He’d returned with a reputation, and as section leader it coalesced into legend. It helped he was a scary-assed bastard with an icy stare which could reduce the mouthiest of recruits to silence if he turned it on them. Riley, his ex-teammate and their current landlord, had developed much the same reputation, largely due to his history as an ex-con. His current team feared and worshiped him in equal measure.

No one feared Jake and therein lay the problem. Jake was a mother-hen, not an asshole. He’d also been away from the agency longer than Mitch. No one remembered him or his exploits as an agent. As far as his trainees were concerned, he’d gotten his position on the back of being Mitch’s husband.

Jake took a long swallow of whiskey.

We’re soldiers. He’s just a fucking bartender.

Nick Collins’s words repeated over and over. He was meant to hear them; he was sure of that. Collins was the de facto leader of the current batch of trainees. If he could curb his tendency to be an asshole, he’d make a good team leader. As it was, he was skating on thin ice. Collins just didn’t know it yet. His section leader didn’t have time for men who couldn’t respect the chain of command.

Jake didn’t want to think about Collins. He didn’t want to think about anything.

Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late. I took the dogs out for Mr. Farman.

Mitch’s low rumble was a welcome distraction in Jake’s ear as he knelt by the chair. Jake had been so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn’t heard Mitch come in.

How’s he doing?

The old man will last forever. Deano’s slowing down but considering he took a bullet, he’s in great shape. You wouldn’t know anything had happened to Sammy.

Jake couldn’t hold back his smirk. Even after all these years Jake still found it amusing the irascible old man named his dogs after fictional demon hunters.

Mitch leaned forward, cupping Jake’s jaw, his cold hand making Jake shiver. Sorry.

I don’t mind, Jake said before Mitch pressed his mouth to Jake’s, the long, sweet kiss extracting a moan from Jake. I should have thought of doing it myself.

He tried to avoid Jake’s all-knowing eyes, but Mitch didn’t give him a choice.

You had things on your mind. Mitch picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey.