Hearts: Z Boys

By Sofia Aves

He'll bet on his heart one last time.

Caleb 'Hearts' Anderson isn't the usual unit medic. The ex-body builder can hack into the world of organised crime with one hand and save lives with the other. Battling internal politics while he works his assignment, Caleb finds his happy place looking after the deadly men he works alongside. Z Unit is his home, and the self-confirmed bachelor has no intention of being distracted from the missions—and the team—who keep him sane.

Until stripper and ex-head dancer Cheri Bettison steps into his neatly ordered life.

Displaced and homeless after she was extracted from seedy casino Trilogy's strip club, Cheri lands in the middle of Z Unit's suburban, barracks-like household. Paired with Caleb as her minder until she finds her feet, Cheri surprises the giant military man with skills acquired from her previous life.

Together, they work through Caleb's mission. Cheri's proximity makes his head spin, but when an old nemesis compromises Z Unit's security, Caleb has to trust the pink-haired dancer and risk everything he's built to protect those he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Little Quail Press
• Release date: Jul 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781922448378

Sofia Aves

Sofia Aves is a USA TODAY Bestselling author who writes fast-paced police romances, suspenseful mysteries, steamy cowboys with a Montana backdrop and the occasional cheeky god. She loves reading Indie authors and hides her collection of college romance books beneath an ever-growing TBR pile. Sofia is a mum of three crazies and an overly large fur baby who thinks she’s a teacup puppy. She loves orchids but can’t always keep them alive. Sofia lives near Brisbane, Australia Join Sofia’s newsletter & get a free Blue Blooded Brothers short story: https://BookHip.com/CNMQFX Follow Sofia on BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sofia-aves?follw=true

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SOFIA AVES

Copyright Ⓒ Sofia Aves 2022

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First Edition

Published by Little Quail Press

Cover Design by Kay Maszek

Editing by Partners in Crime Book Services

ISBN 978-1-922448-37-8

PROLOGUE

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A soldier loses friends every time he leaves the house. Not to skirmishes long past that no one else remembers, but often to their personal wars. Memories come hard and fast at the grocery store. An inane can of soda someone else once loved or threw in the air to take pot shots at when we were bored out of our uniforms.

Getting a haircut and recalling a grinning face, too young, when long hair was shorn to a number one, and we didn’t have the tan the desert left us, along with scars no one should ever have to bear.

Seeing the flag, not hoisted but folded, laid over a glossy chestnut casket, running roughened thumbs over a Crossed Rifles badge placed at the memorial site.

Seeing that same stitching on one of your closest friend’s uniform and wondering if you’d be burying him next.

A medic’s heart can’t be worn on his sleeve. He’s made to heal, not hurt, and when those lines marr it creates havoc even in times of supposed peace.

Better not to have a heart at all.

CHAPTER ONE

CALEB

‘I need you to do me a favour’ never came with promising connotations. The moment the words were out of my commander’s mouth, I knew I was in for the shitfight of my life.

Medic v The Stripper.

Cue a swath of spiky pink hair, yellow eyes and legs that went for miles, moving almost as fast as her mouth, regardless of her injury.

Yeah, I could tell how this one was going to turn out, and it wasn’t because I was being an asshole.

Well, mostly not being an asshole. I had my unit to look after, and I couldn't do that if I had a personality clash with someone who closely resembled a piece of candy.

Bandages would fly, a scrabble for the scalpel was assured. The one thing I couldn’t guarantee was who would go for the anaesthetic first.

Hell no. I folded my arms over my chest and flexed. I didn’t have to pull out the big guns often, and my silent protest didn’t go unnoticed.

Lincoln ‘Ace’ Kelly leaned back in his chair. My best friend also being the commanding officer of Fairview House, Z Unit’s traditional home, had never been a good idea, but we've managed to breach the divide between troop and officer well, until now.

His lips pursed as one shoulder dipped and I knew his Belgian Malinois, Helix, pulled her weight as she did her job in keeping him calm and centred.

Ace might have tried to loom over me or one of a dozen intimidation tactics that would never have worked.

He had a hell of a job pulling one over a man double his size in both height and muscle, and Ace was not a small man by any means.

No? he asked in a soft voice. A voice that could be so deceiving, if I’d been egotistical enough to let my guard down.

I never broke eye contact with him.

I need to be in the field with the unit. Who’s going to take point, King?

Scotty does a good job.

Ouch.

I tipped my head to one side, taking the wound and burying it to deal with later. Fair enough.

That’s it? Ace’s mouth pressed into a hard line.

That’s it.

Still no?

Still no.

You always were a stubborn bastard. One of the reasons you’re on this team. Can’t stand quitters. The corner of Ace’s mouth quirked in a humourless smile. Toughen up, cupcake. I need you here.

Goddamn it, Ace. I’m trying to find an exit strategy.

I kept my face blank as I rose. Yes, Sir.

Ace’s eyes narrowed.

We both knew I hadn’t used the honorific since the day I’d been handpicked for his little suicide squad.

File. He tapped his fingers on the manilla folder he insisted we use while I fought for a paperless record keeping system. And Caleb?

Yeah? I grabbed the file and turned for the door.

Lose the fucking attitude. You sound like King.

I grinned. Good to know you have a sense of humour. I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Sir.

Get out. He waved the back of his hand at me, not bothering to disguise his grumpy tone as he petted his dog beneath the desk in rough strokes.

I closed the door behind me, cautious of not banging the thing in its frame. Ace needed some down time. We all did. The last time we’d tried that, he had a little visitor from an intelligence agency that seriously screwed with our Christmas Day.

Months later and Ace still hadn't gotten over the woman he pined over. I made a note to push him for a light training session, something that covered both the fun aspects and honed skills in one. White water rafting? Tame for boys who swam into a harbour in a country they weren’t supposed to be in and planted bombs on warships that weren’t supposed to exist for a night’s work.

The same went for most of the quick adrenaline fixes. No, I’d have to come up with something creative.

Stuck with me, huh? A confection of pink and neon yellow in an orange tank top bright enough to herald a nuclear disaster popped purple gum at me.

Flying Grape hit me in the face in a burst of flavour and overwhelmed my senses. Tucking my file beneath my arm, I grabbed Cheri’s toned arm and towed her along the hall until we reached my room. Kicking it open, I dragged her inside.

She twisted and I realised I’d grabbed at her injured arm. No one seemed to have noticed after we got Ana and Scotty out of the casino, but when Cheri came along for the escape ride, she’d been more than a little roughed up herself.

I hadn’t pushed my views on why her choice of career was a shit one, but for the first time since she arrived, I didn’t care.

"Never listen in on his conversations. Never. Do you understand me?" I yanked the door shut and pressed her back against it, leaning into her space with one arm braced over her head.

Which wasn't hard when, at five feet seven inches, she came up to my chest. Maybe.

She hopped in place and popped another bubble right in my face. "Calm down, Army boy. I just wanted to know where I was headed. You know, since you made me persona non grata and all. It’d be nice to know my final destination. A body bag in the river? Tossed into the dumpster with track marks along my arm proclaiming me a junkie?" Her quick breath gave her away.

She’s shit scared.

Knowing the over-enthusiastic and noisy additional housemate we’d acquired on our last trip was more than piss and wind hit me hard somewhere around chest level, or head height with those spikes. Some of my anger dissipated as I stared into those yellow eyes.