Erin framed his face with her hands and rested her face against his. “I’m here, Alec. For whatever you need. Always. I promise.”
He sank his fingers into her hair, holding her close and covering her face with achingly tender kisses. Desperate kisses. Kisses full of affection and emotion and words left unsaid. Words that hovered near the surface. Words she saw reflected in his azure eyes.
She felt the tremor that shook him, and her body answered with a quaking need and clamoring hunger. She held him tighter, angling her hips and shifting her legs, wishing she could climb inside him. Fill him. Give him all the love he’d been denied and had denied himself for too many years.
About the Author
BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.
She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.
Soldier’s
Pregnancy
Protocol
Beth Cornelison
To Keyren Gerlach, who gave Alec and Erin new life!
I appreciate all you do.
Prologue
Without a sound, Alec Kincaid inched on his belly through the sticky black mud of the South American jungle until he had a clearer view of the Cessna awaiting takeoff from the small clearing. The acrid scent of jet fuel and jeep exhaust tinged the smell of rotting vegetation and the fragrance of the orchids blooming around his hiding place. His body ached from lying motionless for the past twelve hours, but his gut told him his efforts would soon pay off. In spades.
After ten years, working black ops for a counterterrorist team so secret the group didn’t even have a name, Alec had learned to rely on his instincts and not much else. Except training. Except Daniel LeCroix, aka Lafitte.
He trusted his partner with his life. And had many times. Just this week.
In the past five years, Alec had lost count how many times he and Lafitte had relied on each other for survival in the murky world of espionage and counterterrorism.
Because of the risks they took, their rogue lifestyle, the pirate code names they’d adopted seemed apropos. Blackbeard and Lafitte.
He clicked his tongue three times into his lip mic. Three tangos.
In his earpiece, he heard Daniel’s reply, a short puff of air. Affirmative.
Alec sighted his AK-47 on the rebel fighters as they loaded boxes of weapons into the aircraft. But these drones were not his ultimate target. Intel indicated General Ramirez, the murderous leader of the rebel fighters, would be leaving on this flight.
If they netted Ramirez today, he and Daniel could be swilling rum with a couple senoritas on a beach in Acapulco by nightfall—Lafitte and Blackbeard savoring the spoils of a completed mission. Three years of mucking through mosquito-infested rain forests and living weeks at a time off grubs and stubborn determination had led to this moment.
Anticipation thrummed through Alec. His nerves jangled, but he didn’t so much as draw a deep breath. Any movement, any noise could give away his position. He held his post without flinching, even when one of the deadliest spiders in Colombia dropped from an overhanging branch and crept up his arm. To his neck. Inside his mud-caked camo T-shirt …
His gut pitched. Mother of Joe, he hated spiders!
Through his headset, Daniel could probably hear the rapid fire of Alec’s pulse as the arachnid skulked down his back.
The rumble of a motor cued him to an approaching jeep. Spider or not, Alec forced his focus to the new arrival, years of training kicking into high gear.
Daniel grunted. See that?
Alec puffed on the mike. Affirmative.
Daniel clicked twice. Two more men.
General Ramirez and a guard. Five tangos against the two of them. A cakewalk.
But foreboding rolled through Alec like a thundercloud. It didn’t add up. Why wasn’t the general better guarded? Alec held his breath as General Ramirez climbed from the jeep, shouting directions in Spanish to his men. With a low whine, the Cessna engine turned over, and the nose propeller spun.
Every muscle in Alec’s body tensed. Ready.
All of his senses honed in on the scene before him. Waiting for the right moment …
Ramirez stepped away from the jeep, turned his back. Alec had a clear shot, but Uncle Sam wanted Ramirez taken alive. The general’s guards were fair game, though. Alec curled his finger around the trigger of his assault rifle. Took aim. Prepared to charge the aircraft and kick some rebel ass.
But across the clearing, a blast of gunfire ripped from the jungle. Peppered the jeep, the Cessna. The aircraft exploded in a ball of flame and black smoke. The concussion shook the ground and reverberated in Alec’s chest.
What the hell?
In his earpiece, he heard Daniel mutter the same expletive that popped in his mind.
Chaos erupted. Ramirez clutched his chest. Fell.
The rebels returned fire. Shooting blindly. Spraying the area with a hail of bullets.
Uniformed men, a rival militia force, surged from the line of trees.
Mud splattered, and the foliage hiding Alec shredded under the barrage of gunfire.
“Pull back! Abort!” he grated into his mic.
Daniel didn’t respond.
“Copy, pirate? Abort!” Alec repeated as he shimmied backward through the black
