He appears the beast, but she sees his heart.
Architect Aimee Hart, determined to locate her father, infiltrates Miles Stratton’s engineering firm as a secretary. Her presence wrenches the shaggy, wounded man from his penthouse, and the quest begins.
Betrayed by his best friend, Miles would rather hide than help, especially the man's daughter. But something's not right. Someone’s trying to destroy Stratton Industrial. A decorated war veteran, he's defended his own before and the Beast of Stratton can do it again.
Even with the enemy at his side.
The hot spray of the shower slapped his back like a whip. Miles Stratton leaned his forehead against the cool tile and rolled his shoulders. He blinked to clear water from his eyes, but steam swirled around him. The world spun and his vision blurred. He leapt back in time—into smoke and pain.
The yoke wrenched against his hands while the rotors groaned above his head. Another missile slammed into the chopper and the tail dropped off, spinning it toward the ground. The acrid smell of burning fuel and blood hung in his nose as he fought to keep the bird in the air.
Icy water snapped him into the present, and he slammed his hand into the wall, his roar echoing around the small cubicle of granite and tile. Enough already. Miles closed his eyes and pushed the memories away.
He dipped under the cold spray one last time before shutting off the water. In his room, he dug around in his bag, tossing wrinkled clothes on the bed. Sooner or later, he’d need to unpack. It’d have to be later.
Clad in old jeans and a t-shirt, he pulled the door open and water dropped on his bare toes. He headed back to the bathroom. After another pass through his wet hair and beard with his towel, he tossed it in the hamper. Pulling a dry one off the shelf, he grabbed a comb and a rubber band.
Banging cupboards greeted him when he walked into the next room. An annoying person was in his kitchen. Again. “Hey, knock it off.”
“Where’s your scotch?” His stepbrother peeked around the corner.
Miles settled on the couch with the towel on his chest and started combing the tangles out of his beard. “Long gone.”
“What?” Ray groaned and tossed his ice into the sink with a clank and joined him in the living room. “You didn’t have to drain it all, dude. Maybe you should back off a little.”
Miles grunted. He hadn’t touched a drop since landing stateside. No, scratch that. The night before his last mission in
The toast of death—his last drink. His beard clear of snarls, Miles started on
his mane. A low growl rumbled when the comb caught a ratted mass of curls. He
worked it loose and began again, delving into the thick hair. Iraq
“You look like crap, man.” The younger man beat on the arm of the leather chair a few feet away, keeping the rhythm to some song only he could hear.
“What can I help you with, Ray?” He picked at another clump.
“Can’t I stop in to say hi?” Ray reached up to loosen his tie, the jacket to his Armani suit discarded at the door. “I missed you. Where’ve you been?”
“Yeah, right.” The comb stuttered to a stop before sliding through his long strands like butter. “I’ve been around.”
“What’re you doing?”
He grinned at the shock in Ray’s voice. “You’d think you’ve never seen someone braid his hair before.”
“Cut the mess, man.”
Miles secured the thick plait with the rubber band before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why are you here? And it’s not because you missed me. I’m not stupid.”
“Never said you were.” Ray propped his foot on his knee. “Did you meet the new hire today?”
Raised in Louisiana and Wyoming, Renee started writing poetry in junior high school and that, as they say, was that. After having her son, a desire to attend pharmacy school sent her small family to
and she’s been counting pills ever since. While writing’s her first love, well,
after the Lord and her husband, she also likes to fish and hunt as well as pick
away on her classical guitar. Laramie
Nestled against the Black Hills with her husband, crazy old dog and ornery cat, she serves the community of northeastern Wyoming as a pharmacist and pens her Christian stories, keeping them interesting with action and intrigue, of course. She loves to interact with readers and invites you check out her website, blog, and social media.
To purchase her book:
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Off to read another great book!
Sandra M. Hart