Title: Lethal Game
Book 2: Biological Response Team Series
Author: Julie Rowe
Publisher: Carina Press
Publication Date: October 12,
2015
Pages: 270
ISBN: 978-1459290198
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Format: eBook, PDF
Book Description:
Book Two of Biological Response Team Series
As the nation’s youngest virologist and hematologist, Captain
Sophia Perry has always been one step ahead of her peers. But there’s one thing
she can’t beat—cancer. She wants to make a difference in the time she has left,
so when she’s sent to investigate a breakout at a Syrian refugee camp, she
goes, saying nothing of her diagnosis. But saving the masses isn’t easy when
the man tasked to protect her is so irresistible.
Communications Sergeant Connor Button is back on active duty
after a deadly explosion, but he doesn’t feel whole again until he meets
Sophia. Assigned to keep her safe, he’s prepared to die for her, but for the
first time in months he truly wants to live—if only she wasn’t so determined to
put them both in danger.
With a secret to keep and nothing to lose, Sophia is determined
to find the source of the breakout at any cost. Violent attacks on the camp
convince her that someone wants her to pay dearly. But as Sophia’s health
deteriorates, Connor must find a way to help her defeat her enemies before her
body defeats her.
Book Excerpt:
Security is mostly a
superstition ~ Helen Keller
Chapter One
It had taken him three
airplanes and over twenty-six hours to travel more than seven thousand miles,
and now he was going to have to kill someone.
Ten feet from his room
in the Navy hotel at the American Naval base in Bahrain.
All Special Forces
Communications Sergeant Connor Button wanted was to find a bed and crash for a
few hours.
What he did not need was
witnessing some idiot striking out with a hot blonde and not taking it well.
She’d just removed his
hand from her waist.
The man put it on her
shoulder and tried to bring her closer. “Aw, come on, sweetheart.”
She slid away, her voice
clear across the short distance. “No.”
Okay, dude, time to
retreat. Only, the guy
didn’t. He grabbed her by the back of the neck, hard enough to make her gasp in
pain, and leaned down, his mouth aimed for hers.
She slapped the moron,
but he didn’t get that hint either, just grabbed her hand and twisted it behind
her back.
Con had to make himself
stand still for a second. One second, so he could throttle back the instinct to
beat the stupid fuck to death.
Fine. His jaw flexed. He
wouldn’t kill the asshole, but he could hurt him real bad.
Con dropped his duffel
on the floor and stomped toward the woman and the moron whose arm he was about
to break.
Into several pieces.
Small ones.
The stomping got the
moron’s attention. He glanced up, saw Con coming and his eyes went wide. He let
go of the woman so fast she wobbled off balance and fell to the floor. Con
stopped to help her while the moron ran like a track star down the hall and
around a corner.
Good call, asshole.
Con bent down and
offered his hand to the woman. “Are you okay?”
Her head jerked up and
she stared at him with eyes that didn’t miss a thing. She scooted away, leaving
his hand hanging in the air, then stood. Her shoulders went back and her chin
rose.
He almost smiled. She
was so not interested in another man getting all up in her business. He’d make
sure she was all right, then he’d back off.
“Ma’am, did he hurt
you?”
“I’m fine,” she said,
retreating a step.
Blue-green eyes stood
out in a face framed by white-blond hair hanging in a sheet down to the middle
of her back. She was also stacked, though she wasn’t showing it off. She was
following military clothing requirements, wearing long pants and a collared
shirt one size too big, buttoned up to her neck. An asshole had just tried to
sexually assault her, but Con would bet a year’s pay that had he not come
along, the moron would have had his hands full with a pissed-off female trying
to smash his balls into paste.
He glanced down.
Her mouth was pressed
into a thin angry line, but her hands were shaking.
For the first time in
months something other than anger or despair slammed into him.
He knew just how she
felt. Hyped up on adrenaline and looking for a target.
It surprised him so much
he opened his mouth to make some inane comment or other to show her he was no
threat, but she raised a hand to stop him.
She spoke a quick, firm
“Thank you.” And then she was gone, inside the room closest to her. The click of
the lock being engaged echoed down the hall.
He blinked at the empty
hallway. He wasn’t sure she was okay, but those shaking hands and that locked
door sent a pretty clear signal that she didn’t want another man anywhere near
her.
Sometimes other people
just made things worse.
He sighed, strode back
to his bag, checked his room number again and discovered he was next door to
the blonde.
At least he wouldn’t
have to go far if Moron came back.
***
So much for getting some
sleep. He’d lain awake, alert for any noise that might indicate a problem in
the room next door, but it had been church-quiet. He got up at 0700 base time,
then went in search of his new commanding officer, Colonel Maximillian. The man
had an interesting reputation, but he trusted what his buddy, Jacob “Sharp”
Foster, a former Special Forces soldier, had to say about him. Everyone else
said the colonel was one bullet shy of a magazine. Sharp had warned him that
the colonel wasn’t exactly regular army, but he gave a shit about his people, and
that was number one for Con. If your CO had your six, at least you didn’t have
to take your attention off what was coming at you.
The colonel had a fancy
lab that didn’t exist on the base, according to official records. Officially,
the lab that did exist on paper was rated for level two containment. Good
enough to run the sort of tests any big city hospital conducted. In reality,
the lab was capable of level four containment testing. The stuff you needed to
wear a bio-suit for and breathe your own oxygen supply.
Con had to pass through
two internal checkpoints to gain entry to the nondescript building that was his
destination. Colonel Maximillian’s office was the first one inside the prefab
rectangle that housed the lab and offices. A soldier who didn’t look a day over
sixteen sat typing on a computer facing the entrance to the building.
The kid’s gaze darted
over Con’s uniform, then he stood and saluted. “Private Eugene Walsh.”
“Sergeant Connor Button,
Special Forces.”
“Yes, sir. Colonel
Maximillian is expecting you.” Walsh extended his hand in the direction of the
first office. “Go right in.”
Con gave him a nod, then
walked into the office.
He saluted the
salt-and-pepper-haired man, who stood and saluted back. “Sir, Sergeant Button
reporting for duty.”
“Welcome, Sergeant.” The
colonel came around his desk and offered his hand.
Con shook it once,
twice, then released a hand that hadn’t tested him beyond what would be
considered polite.
“Take a seat,” the
colonel said, gesturing at one of the chairs facing his desk. “I’d like to go
over your assignment and answer any questions you might have.”
“Thank you, sir.” Con
sat and adopted a neutral body posture, back straight and hands resting lightly
on his thighs. It was harder than it should have been.
The last time he’d been
in the Middle East he’d been deployed with his unit, attempting to ascertain
the military strength of two groups of extremists in Northern Iraq and Syria.
Both groups had threatened multiple American and allied targets, as well as
calling for sympathetic citizens to carry out terrorist acts inside their own
countries.
The last time he’d been
in the Middle East, he’d been the only survivor of an IED that took out their
vehicle. Fortune had smiled on him that day. He’d been thrown clear.
More and more often, he
wished he hadn’t been so lucky.
Colonel Maximillian
continued to stare at him and seemed content to not say anything for several
moments.
Con waited with the
patience of a man who’d waited days for just the right moment to take a shot at
his target.
Finally, the colonel
asked, “How much do you know about your mission here?”
“Probably not enough.”
Maximillian’s face
didn’t change. “Sharp said you were smart. Are you, Sergeant Button?”
“That would depend on
your definition of smart.”
“Observant, creative,
organized, able to see unusual relationships between people and information.”
“Sir, you’re looking for
Sherlock Holmes. He’s a fictional character.”
A brief smile crossed
the colonel’s face. “How would you describe yourself?”
“Flexible, determined,
fuck the box.”
Colonel Maximillian’s
forehead lowered over his eyes. “Were you aware General Stone had some
reluctance in assigning you to this mission?”
“Not directly, but it
doesn’t surprise me.”
“Oh?”
How many conversations
like this had he had recently? Five, six? “Sir, I received injuries in an
attack that killed all the men in the armored vehicle with me. I’d be surprised
if he wasn’t hesitant.” No officer wanted to have a suicidal or homicidal
soldier on a mission. Survivor’s guilt could lead to either one. Or both.
“Do you consider
yourself fit for duty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Goddamned
why-questions. Why judged, weighed and measured what was in a
man’s head. What was in his head was not pretty, and not to be shared.
“Sir, I signed on to serve
my country. My service isn’t done.”
Maximillian tilted his
head to one side. “That is one of the best non-answers I’ve ever heard.”
Fuck it. Con leaned forward and
said in a less civilized tone, “I got thrown off the horse. I need to get back
on and finish my ride.”
“And if you don’t?”
Con’s throat closed up.
“That thought can’t be in my head.”
The colonel’s face lost
its sharp inquisitiveness for a moment, replaced by a surprising level of
comprehension. A second later it was gone and he was flipping through pages on
his desk. “You’ve had some problems with your temper since you returned to
duty.”
“I’m working on that.”
Anger was easy. Acting on it was even easier.
The officer considered
Con for a couple more seconds, then nodded briskly. “My Biological Response
Team is tracking a very dangerous man who’s created his own extremely deadly
strain of anthrax. We managed to prevent an attack on a base in Afghanistan,
but not before nearly one hundred people died of the infection. We think he’s
not done. We think he’ll continue to strike at high-quality American or allied
targets, and we don’t know where he is or where he will attack next.”
Con straightened.
Hunting down a homicidal nutcase wasn’t the sort of duty he’d taken on before,
but it sounded dangerous. Good.
Holy fuck he was messed
up.
Maximillian continued.
“We were successful in preventing the last attack because we had one of our
infectious disease specialists embedded with an A-team training members of the
Afghan military. General Stone agrees with me—until this man is found, we need
more cooperation between my team and army Special Forces. I asked for specific
men to work with my people. Men who are not only well trained and smart, but
also creative and who can take a step back and support his teammate or take
charge of a situation if that’s what’s needed. Jacob Foster says you’re that
kind of man. Are you?”
It might be nice to have
a specific enemy, with a face and a name, rather than a faceless one who could
be anybody. The need to kill, to avenge his dead, was a relentless voice in the
back of his head. This mission could get him the opportunity to give himself
that, and maybe a measure of peace.
“Sir.” He paused, trying
hard not to come on too strong. If he lost this chance, he might not get another.
“I’m a team player. That means I’ll play whatever role is needed by the team.”
Colonel Maximillian
smiled. “Do you mind working with a woman?”
“No, sir. Sharp
mentioned the possibility I’d be paired with a woman.” Man, woman, two-headed
alien, he didn’t care as long as they shared a common enemy.
“You’re okay with that?
No hesitations?”
The colonel seemed
unusually concerned.
What the hell? While he might
smack down a fellow Special Forces soldier, he’d never lay a
hand on a woman.
“Sir, I’m the youngest
of five children with four older sisters. Working with or for a woman is
nothing new to me.”
“Good.” Maximillian
nodded. “I don’t mean to sound paranoid, but the doctor you’re going to be
working with is somewhat high-strung.”
“High-strung?”
The colonel shook his
head. “That’s the wrong description. She doesn’t trust…people. I’ve been trying
to find a suitable partner for her, but I’ve been unsuccessful.”
“Unsuccessful?”
“Most people look at her
and see a young woman who looks as if she’d have trouble with breaking a nail.
Coddle her in any way and she’ll find a way to make you miserable.”
The bottom of Con’s
stomach grew cold. “So why me?”
“Growing up with sisters
is part of it.”
This interview was a
personality test. Fuck.
“You’ve also been
through some challenging combat situations and I think that will give you a
level of experience she’ll respect.”
Con had to work to keep
a growl out of his voice. “I’m not going to sit around the campfire telling her
war stories.” What he’d seen wouldn’t instill confidence in anyone.
“I don’t expect you to.
She works best with people who are highly competent, who don’t brag
or try to impress.”
First time he’d been
complimented on his ability to keep his trap shut.
“Another issue is her
age. She’s young, she’s a genius and she has absolutely no idea how to talk to
anyone who isn’t a scientist or doctor.”
That didn’t leave a
whole lot of people. “Genius, as in graduated from medical school really
young?”
“She’s twenty-four and
is the youngest physician in the USA to have a double speciality in virology
and hematology.”
“Virology, I get.
Hematology?”
“The study of blood
cells.”
If she was an
overachiever, he could work with that. “So, work is her life, and before that,
it was school?”
“Exactly.”
“S’okay. My second-oldest
sister is married to a physicist. He speaks math, and we get along just fine.”
Maximillian quirked an
eyebrow. “You speak math?”
“Nope. I speak barbecue.
Everyone has something to say about properly grilling a steak.”
The colonel laughed.
“You’ll do. Time to meet her.” He stepped out of his office and led the way
down a hall. “Oh, and call me Max. It’s shorter.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Max sighed as he opened
a door with a key and preceded Con inside.
The room they entered
was part office and part lab, with a couple of desks and two tall microscopes
set up on the end of each. Papers and boxes of slides littered both surfaces.
Only one of the desks was occupied.
A woman sat looking
through the lens of one of the microscopes. Her hair was white-blond and pulled
back into a severe bun. She wore an army uniform with a lab coat over top. When
she saw Max, she pushed away from the scope, stood and moved to meet them.
The blonde from last
night. With her hair pulled back, she could have passed for even younger than twenty-four.
Fucking gorgeous. He took that
thought, hog-tied it and shoved it into a dark corner. His personal mission
left no room for anything beyond a professional relationship.
She also looked ready to
rip someone’s head off.
“Sophia,” Max said.
“This is your new partner, Communications Sergeant Connor Button.” He turned to
Con. “Connor, this is Captain Sophia Perry.” Her mouth, pressed into a thin
line, convinced him to pretend last night hadn’t happened. He nodded at her
respectfully. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” she asked,
crossing her arms over her chest and displaying a huge bruise on her right
hand.
Must’ve hurt.
“This is who you found
to babysit me, Max? A fossil?”
Damn, she came out
swinging. Maybe he’d let her win this bout. Con managed to keep a straight face
and said in a hesitant voice, “I’m only twenty-nine.”
“Would you rather I pair
you up with someone who follows all the rules and
regulations?” Max asked her, irritation showing in his rigid posture. “This
guy—” he pointed a thumb at Con “—hates inside-the-box thinking as much as you
do.”
“Oh yeah?” she said,
looking Con full in the face. A challenge. Why was she so pissed off? Because
she didn’t think she needed a babysitter?
He shrugged, then
coughed to hide a chuckle. If he laughed now, she’d think he was laughing at
her. “I don’t like boxes. They’re never big enough, and they’re too…square.”
She blinked at him, then
narrowed her gaze. “What did you do to draw this duty? It had to have been
bad.”
Max opened his mouth,
but Con didn’t want to escalate things, so he spoke first, and went with the
unvarnished truth. “I got blown up. I spent almost seven months in hospitals
and physical therapy. The last three or four months I’ve been instructing and
getting back into shape.” He smiled at her. “When I found out what my first
mission was going to be, bodyguarding some army doctor, I thought what
the fuck? I sure as shit didn’t want easy duty. But
having talked with Max here, I’ve changed my mind.” He shifted his gaze to
Max’s face. “This isn’t easy duty, is it, sir?”
“No. It’s not a matter
of if there will be another biological weapon attack somewhere
in this part of the world, it’s when.”
“My role isn’t just to
bodyguard Dr. Perry, is it?”
“No.” Max began pacing
back and forth between Con and Sophia. “We have intel that points to the
Biological Response Team as a specific target. I don’t want you to just protect
Sophia, I need you two to be a team. All of us are being paired with Special
Forces soldiers, even myself.”
“Assassination?” Con asked.
The idea of it made the back of his neck itch.
“Very possible. Sabotage
is another danger.”
“Have any attempts been
made?”
“Yes. Dr. Samuels and
her Green Beret were nearly killed in a trap I believe was set for them. We
have an enemy who is intelligent, ruthless and fearless.”
“Can I get everything
you have on this guy?” Con asked.
“My assistant will have
it ready for you in an hour or two.” Max turned to him. “Have you been assigned
quarters?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to have you
moved to the room next to Sophia’s.”
The woman in question
opened her mouth to say something unpleasant—he was sure from the way she’d
screwed up her nose—which is why Con spoke first again. “Are you sure that’s
necessary?” He looked down, like he was thinking hard. “Do you want to
advertise to the whole base that I’m her bodyguard, or would you like to keep
it below the radar?”
Max gave him a dirty
look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Hers, sir.”
“Fine,” Max said, with
bit of an impatient edge to his voice. “I’ll check to see where you’re housed
now. If it’s not too far, you can stay where you are.” Max pressed his lips
together, glared at them both, then stomped off.
Con looked at Sophia.
She looked back at him,
snorted and went back to her microscope. “Nice attempt to come to my rescue.
Again. But I don’t need anyone to rescue me.”
She needed to talk to
someone about the moron. To prevent fear and anger from getting too deep a hold
on her brain.
Despite how fast things
had happened, the human mind had a way of warping events so the memory of them
seemed to take a thousand times longer than the reality had.
Hell, he was a walking
testament for how three seconds of hell could totally screw up the rest of a
man’s life.
Or take it.
Listen to him passing
judgment on her mental state, when he’d done his level best to keep the shrinks
out of his. Right now, he just had to convince her he was on her side. He wanted this
assignment. “I know.”
“Really?” Sarcasm turned
the word into something sharp and heavy. “You just met me. How would you know
that?”
“I saw you in action
last night.”
She froze, and for a
moment the expression on her face was a mixture of anger, fear and disgust. A
second later, it was gone, smoothed away as if it had never been there.
Whoa. What was that?
Without looking at him,
she said, “Babysitting me is going to be a complete bore for a soldier’s
soldier like you. I’ll tell Max to find someone else.”
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In addition to writing
contemporary and historical medical romance, and fun romantic suspense for
Entangled Publishing and Carina Press, Julie has short stories in Fool’s Gold,
the Mammoth Book of ER Romance, Timeless Keepsakes and Timeless Escapes
anthologies. Her book SAVING THE RIFLEMAN (book #1 WAR GIRLS) won the novella
category of the 2013 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. AIDING THE ENEMY (book
#3 WAR GIRLS) won the novella category of the 2014 Colorado Romance Writer’s
Award of Excellence. Her writing has also appeared in several magazines such as
Romantic Times Magazine, Today’s Parent, and Canadian Living.
You can reach Julie
at www.julieroweauthor.com , on Twitter @julieroweauthor or at her Facebook
page: www.facebook.com/JulieRoweAuthor
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Julie:
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