Guarding Cindy (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) Read online

  Guarding Cindy (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

  Victoria Paige

  Contents

  Foreword

  About The Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect with the Author

  Also by Victoria Paige

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  Books by Susan Stoker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2019 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Edited by: Victoria Colotta

  Proofreader: Judy’s Proofreading

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Special Forces: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  About The Book

  There’s nothing sexier than a Navy SEAL in pursuit of his woman.

  In theory, Cindy Lake is an expert in romance. In practice? She’s a failure at love. After her boyfriend dumps her, taking a break from men seems like a good idea. Then Marcus Harrelson walks back into her life.

  Hot. Infuriatingly patient. With a smooth Texas drawl that makes her weak in the knees.

  For years, the tragedy that stole his family crippled Marcus with guilt. But he’s not that broken man anymore. The moment he sets eyes on Cindy again, she stirs in him feelings that are far from platonic. She’s always been sexy. She’s always been sassy. He sees her now and that sweet promise of a second chance. Unfortunately, someone else sees her too.

  When Cindy becomes the target of a stalker, convincing her that she needs a protector is his first priority. The second? That he’s a man she could trust with her heart. There’s an undeniable spark between them. But that spark could become deadly.

  Chapter 1

  “This isn’t working anymore.”

  There it was. With four simple words, Trevor Ford, her boyfriend of six months, sat on her Chesterfield sofa and broke up with Cindy.

  She was standing before him, knot twisting in her gut, as lightheadedness gripped her. She should be used to it by now. Her boyfriends dumping her was nothing new. Still, she’d been hopeful that Trevor would be the one to stay.

  “Is there … someone else?”

  Trevor’s mouth curved into a mocking smile. “If I say there is, what would you say?”

  Anger spiked inside her. “What is this? Mind games?”

  He surged to his feet, eyes darkening. “No!” he gritted. “This is me trying to find out if you care about me at all.”

  “Why do you think I don’t care?”

  “Because you treat me like a fuck buddy!”

  “We go on dates. Watch movies together. Go out to dinner.” Her brain scrambled to reject his accusation. “I plan romantic getaways for us. I even cook for you—I love cooking for you.”

  He emitted a derisive laugh. “You hardly let me get close to you! You put up this wall that makes it impossible to let me get close to you in here.” He thumped on his chest with a fist.

  “Where is this coming from? Is this because I don’t want to move in with you?”

  “We’ve been dating for six months. You’re happy with the status quo. I want more.”

  “My profile was clear,” Cindy said, her voice controlled. “I’m looking for someone to spend time with, enjoying romantic dinners, and cooking for two.”

  She met the dark-haired tattoo artist on RightSpark, an online matchmaking website. Cindy initially thought the dating service rocked, but her last breakup, and now this one, had her rethinking about using it at all.

  “I invited you to meet my mother,” Trevor said roughly.

  Despite his physical bad boy looks, he was the perfect gentleman to take home to meet Cindy’s conservative Southern parents. This was a man who loved his mother and he was fiscally responsible. He owned a successful body art business.

  “You rarely mention your parents,” he added. “Why is that?”

  “I told you I don’t get along with them, so obviously I don’t want to talk about them.” Suddenly weary, she lowered herself to the couch. “What do you want, Trevor?”

  “I want you to move in with me. No more excuses that you’re not ready.”

  When she first started with the dating site, she thought writing her online profile was going to be the most difficult thing she would have to deal with. If she said she wanted to take it slow, she might attract the choir boys, and if she said she wanted to have fun, she might attract the manwhores. So, she kept it brief. She was an administrative assistant and what she loved the best was going out to dinner or cooking a romantic meal at home. Cindy didn’t suffer false modesty. With her natural blonde hair, deep-set almond-shaped blue eyes on a classically proportioned face, she was a looker and didn’t have trouble finding men—and women—seeking her out on the RightSpark portal.

  “I don’t do well with ultimatums.” Cindy had a strong urge to retreat to her bedroom, pack a bag, and climb out the window.

  Trevor’s fists clenched at his sides. “Well, I’m giving one. Once I walk out that door I’m not coming back.”

  She raised a stubborn chin, but didn’t say anything.

  He stared at her for a long minute, their battle of wills clashed in the tense silence. Finally, his shoulders drooped in defeat. He removed a key from his key ring and laid it on the coffee table.

  And like all her other boyfriends, he turned his back to her and slammed out of her house and out of her life.

  After Trevor left, Cindy remained on the couch, her eyes transfixed on the shut door, but she wasn’t seeing the door. Her mind gradually set the scene of an empty chair in an auditorium when she was ten years old. Her heart squeezed and she puffed in derision. Women and their daddy issues and men and their mommy issues were at the root of relationship p
roblems. Maybe she was destined to be screwed up for the rest of her life. Unable to commit her heart because the first man she ever loved and adored let her down.

  After a deep inhale followed by a fractured exhale, the tightness in her chest loosened and a weird sense of relief came over her.

  She was alone again.

  Somehow that made her both happy and sad.

  Two hours later, a tray of chicken pot pies came out of the oven, and she put each dish on a cooling rack. Flaky aromatic puff pastry wafted to her nose and she inhaled comfort and calm. This was what Cindy did when she didn’t know what to feel.

  She cooked.

  It was how her gram taught her to cope with her complicated relationship with her parents.

  Cindy was a personal assistant by day, but at night? She was a recipe and menu developer. It all started when she moved into this ranch house six years before. She fell in love with its kitchen. The farmhouse sink, the triple casement windows above it. The espresso-colored cabinets along a wall of exposed brick. The top-of-the-line dual-fuel range was a surprise addition, especially for this old neighborhood, but the previous owner was a chef. All of this felt like a sign that this house was meant for her.

  The abundance of natural light made her food photos look amazing and inspired her to open an Instagram account. With her kitchen as the perfect backdrop, she was always snapping photos to post regularly. A breakfast shot here, a kitchen experiment there, and soon, she had a respectable IG following. She became a bona fide foodstagrammer and local restaurants took notice.

  She bent down to inhale the cold weather comfort food. September was just breaking into autumn, but in Virginia Beach, the weather was still balmy. The tourist season was winding down and restaurants were already planning their menu to stay competitive in the leaner months. The Honey Grazer restaurant in Pungo hired her to give a new spin on a crowd favorite. Cindy didn’t mind using her social media popularity to help local businesses get noticed.

  A rap on the door drew her attention.

  In a close-knit neighborhood such as Sunny Ridge, visitors at nine p.m. were not unusual. Cindy peeked through the peephole and grinned.

  She opened the door to her neighbor Danny, the cable guy. Tanned skin with blond hair gilded by the sun reminiscent of a surfer, he was wearing board shorts and an old tee, a far cry from his uniform of dark pants and golf shirt with the company logo.

  “You’re just in time,” she quipped. “I need a taste tester.”

  “Smells good in here.” He paused and sniffed the air dramatically. “Ma made me return this.” He held out a handheld mixer.

  Cindy closed the door. “Her cake turn out okay?”

  “Cupcakes,” he corrected. “Brought them into the office this morning for a co-worker’s birthday.” He shook his head in self-deprecation.

  “Let me guess. Co-worker is a woman and single?”

  Danny barked a laugh. “You know her.” His eyes danced with mirth. “Guess she’s killing two birds with one stone with this handheld mixer business.”

  His innuendo was not lost on her. As they headed back into the kitchen, she kept her gaze averted as she fiddled with the utensils drawer and picked up two forks.

  Her visitor lowered the appliance on the countertop and spread both hands on the edge, leaning in. “So, I saw Lothario earlier when I got home from work. He didn’t look happy.”

  “If you must know.” She set a napkin and fork in front of him. “We broke up.”

  The mischievous glint in Danny’s eyes coupled with his smirk made her roll hers.

  “No,” she said.

  His brows shot up. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re going to suggest that we date.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You just want to make your mom happy. Besides, neighbors dating would be a disaster.”

  “So you said before.”

  “What if we broke up? Can you imagine how awkward it would be?”

  “You’re having us break up before we even start?”

  “Yes.” Cindy mock-glared at him before picking up a ramekin with the tip of her fingers and deposited it in front of him. “Dig in.”

  Danny picked up the fork and broke the buttery layers of pastry.

  “It’s hot.” She cautioned.

  “Damn, it smells good.”

  Cindy picked up her own dish and dug in.

  “This is fucking delicious,” Danny mumbled over a mouthful of food while nodding his head enthusiastically.

  She tasted her creation and resisted the urge to close her eyes in ecstasy. She had to maintain a non-bias approach, but she knew she had a winner.

  “What’s in this? It’s not your typical chicken pot pie.”

  “Well, first of all, I used puff pastry to give it an airy layer. But I spiced the base mixture with curry which goes well with the thyme.” Cindy laughed as Danny started shoveling the food into his mouth. “Hey, slow down.”

  He glanced up, swiping his upper lip with his tongue. He was devilishly handsome, but Cindy felt zero attraction to him. If anything, her fondness was more sisterly, which gave his suggestion of dating an ick factor.

  Her neighbor cleared his throat. “Can I trouble you for a beer?”

  “Oh my goodness,” Cindy exclaimed. “Where are my manners.”

  She winced when her Alabama accent stuttered out. It happened occasionally when she was flustered. Her momma and gram instilled Southern hospitality into her at an early age and being a savvy hostess was at the top of the list.

  “Your manners are just fine, Scarlett,” Danny replied deadpan.

  She held the beer bottle away from him. “Do you want this beer or not?

  “What, no Coors Light?”

  Her eyes squinted. “You’re pushing it, mister.”

  Danny batted his eyes and Cindy chuckled and handed him the beer. “I may be Southern, but that doesn’t mean my tastes don’t evolve.”

  Danny raised a brow. “Progressive Southerner?”

  Cindy quirked her lips into a smile. “Sort of.”

  As they ate, she made additional notes on the recipe, pleased how it turned out. Danny finished his pie and beer. He then offered to help her tidy the kitchen.

  After the counters were wiped and the dishwasher was loaded, she turned to her guest. “I can finish up here. Why don’t you go on home?”

  He glanced at the clock and back at her. “It’s Friday tomorrow. It’s not even ten. How about sharing another beer with me?”

  “I have an early meeting.” This wasn’t a lie, but she was exhausted from what happened just hours ago. It was catching up with her and she hadn’t even processed her feelings about her breakup with Trevor.

  Cindy wrapped up two ramekins of pot pie and handed them to Danny while prodding him gently toward the door. “The other one is for your mom. Don’t eat them all!”

  Danny mumbled a smart-ass reply that she didn’t catch, but he smirked as he passed through the door she held open.

  “Night, Scarlett.”

  Cindy shook her head and shut the door.

  Chapter 2

  Unknown Caller flashed on her phone.

  Cindy had been getting an increasing amount of hang-up calls in the past week. Her service provider was of no help because the call-tracing feature didn’t have any real data to process.

  She wondered if it was Trevor. It had been two weeks since they broke up. He’d sent her a text three days before asking how she was. Her reply was a simple “Okay.” She had not heard from him since.

  “Ugh, I hate those calls,” a voice spoke over her shoulder. It was nosy Rebecca, the secretary of Mr. Bose, one of the owners of Stockman and Bose Builders—the architectural firm they worked for.

  Cindy lowered her phone and faced the other woman. “Is the meeting over?”

  “Just about,” Rebecca replied. Cindy walked over to her desk outside Izabel’s office and laid down the latest prints from their drafting team
. As a PA to the lead architect, her job was wide and varied like making sure Izabel had everything she needed for a presentation, to running interference in case she got detained by unwanted after-meeting hangers-ons, which was what she was about to do now.

  She entered the conference room and sat on a chair that was set against the corner.

  Izabel was wrapping up her presentation. “Thank you, everyone. I’ll go ahead and inform Solara Foundation that our firm will begin groundbreaking for Phase II.” Everyone rose, some passed Cindy and left the room, while others lingered in groups and chatted. She got up from her chair and headed toward Izabel who was talking to Mr. Bose. Unlike Mr. Stockman—the other owner—Bose was critical of the charity work the company took on, and judging from Izabel’s shuttered face, it was time for Cindy to step in.

  “Now, now Mr. Bose, don’t go holding up Mrs. Maddox.” Cindy added an exaggerated Southern twang to her tone. “Izabel.” Cindy pointed to her watch. “Don’t forget your appointment.”

  Izabel feigned surprise. “Oooh … I almost forgot. I’m so sorry, Mr. Bose, I’ll take your concerns under consideration.”

  The older man’s bushy brows drew together above his hawkish nose. “It’s not even three p.m. yet. Is this an appointment with one of our clients or personal?”

  Cindy wanted to grab the mock-up of the new development that was sitting on the conference table and break it over Bose’s head, but that would be a waste of effort for Izabel’s team.