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Praise for
SUSAN MALLERY
“Susan Mallery is warmth and wit personified.
Always a fabulous read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd
“Ms. Mallery’s unique writing style shines via vivid characters, layered disharmony and plenty of spice.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
“A gifted storyteller, Ms. Mallery fills the pages with multi-faceted characters, solid plotting and passion that is both tender and sizzling.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
“If you haven’t read Susan Mallery, you must!”
—New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster
SUSAN MALLERY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over eighty books and has been a recipient of countless awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. Her combination of humor, emotion and downright sexiness has made her a reader favorite. She makes her home in Southern California with her husband, her very dignified cat and her not-so-dignified dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.
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Surrender in Silk
Susan Mallery
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
Two rescue helicopters swooped down and broke the silence of the night like noisy birds of prey. Spinning blades kicked up sand, dirt and debris, swirling them into a blinding tornado. The powerful military engines were loud enough to wake the dead.
Worse, they would alert the enemy, but everyone expected that.
Zach Jones crouched behind an abandoned shack, his automatic weapon ready to fire. He squinted against the darkness and the cloud stirred up by the choppers, then made a beckoning motion with his left arm.
“Now,” he called to the dozen men waiting behind him. “Get going.”
They moved as one. A low, dark shape—men hunched over to provide a smaller target—slipping like a snake toward safety.
The first burst of gunfire came from the north end of the compound. Zach spun in that direction and pressed his finger on the trigger. Instantly the gun jerked to life, spitting bullets faster than the eye could see. His men sprinted quicker, lower, then broke ranks when one of their own was shot. Zach couldn’t see who had gone down. Damn. They’d already lost too many men on this mission.
“Grab him and get moving,” he yelled, still firing toward the enemy, giving his men protection as they scooped up their fallen companion and continued their escape.
The first helicopter had nearly reached the hard-packed earth, with the second close behind. The deafening noise had a life of its own. The power of the engine, the whipping of the blades, and the sharp, staccato bursts now coming from the tower at the far end of the compound.
“Dammit all to hell,” Zach muttered. He’d known there would be trouble on this mission. He’d planned for it. Just not well enough. Their intelligence information had underestimated the size of the enemy force by nearly a hundred. They’d had to abort and call in the helicopters early. His group of sixteen men had already been reduced by two. He glanced at the injured man being carried toward the first helicopter. Make that by three.
He touched the radio transmitter in his ear. “All right, Albatross, how bad is it?”
There was a brief scratching of static, then a voice said, “Bad. Three trucks of reinforcements just pulled up. I’ll do the best I can from up here.”
“The hell you will.” Zach stepped out of the protection of the shack and sent a quick burst of gunfire toward the tower, then ducked back to safety. “Get down here now. The choppers are going to be leaving pronto.”
“I can take out at least one of the trucks.”
Zach swore. “They’re bringing in Stinger missiles. If they aim one at the choppers, we can kiss our ride home goodbye. Albatross, move it. Now!”
“Yes, sir.”
But Albatross never made it. Seconds later the southern wall where Albatross had been hiding exploded in a brilliant flash of fire and heat. Zach turned away, as much to protect himself from the blast as to save his night vision. The smell of helicopter exhaust, sand, dust, ash and burning wood flooded him.
He spared a quick glance at the first helicopter. All the men were inside. He pressed another button on the transmitter. “Get the hell out of here,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” The first chopper lifted off immediately and quickly climbed into the night.
There were more bursts of gunfire, followed by muffled shouts. The enemy was organizing. Zach eyed the distance to the second chopper, then wondered how many bullets he would take between here and there.
“Sir, we’ve got you covered,” a voice from the chopper said in his ear. “Anytime you’re ready.”
“Now,” Zach said, and took a step forward.
He never got farther than that. Something fast slammed into the exhaust pipe of the helicopter. The bird exploded.
Fiery debris flew through the night, knocking Zach down, cutting through his clothes and burning his skin. Despite the pain, he tried to crawl away. But his leg wasn’t working. It hurt too damn much to be gone, but he knew he’d injured it badly. He’d hurt something else, too. Maybe his head. The night sky started spinning as the ground rushed up to meet him.
Just before he lost consciousness, he saw several pairs of military boots surround him. The bastards were going to get him alive and they were going to make him pay for what he and his men had done this night. As the darkness claimed him, Zach Jones knew Albatross was the lucky one.
He’d had the good sense to die.
Chapter