Handle Me

Subject: K-9 Handler Ty Colson

Mission: Deliver an injured war dog to the woman of his very naughty dreams

Savannah “Van” Cantrell is the girl Ty Colson could never have. She’s also the sister of his best friend—and blames Ty for his death in Afghanistan. The last thing Ty needs is a reunion with Van. Or a reminder of their too-potent chemistry.

Van wants to give her brother’s dog a loving home, but seeing Ty means facing the anger, the blame and the electric current of sexual energy between them. And while Van trusts him to handle almost anything—including her body against his—she’ll never trust her heart to a man determined to walk back into the line of fire.

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Harlequin Blaze’s bestselling miniseries continues with more irresistible men from all branches of the armed forces.

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RESCUE ME By Kira Sinclair

December 2016

Dear Reader,

The minute I read an article about Military Working Dogs I knew I had to write a story highlighting these amazing animals and the soldiers who serve beside them. It takes a special kind of person to form that bond with a highly trained K-9.

For Ty Colson, working with dogs has always been easier than dealing with people. Unlike almost everyone else in his life, no dog ever failed him. For Van Cantrell, accepting the dog injured in the same bomb blast that killed her brother is a challenge. But the more difficult obstacle is confronting the complicated man who delivers Kaia...a man she wants to hate but can’t help loving.

And while it was easy for me to fall in love with Ty and Van, it was even easier to tumble head over heels for Kaia.

Military Working Dogs dedicate their lives to serving our country just like every other US soldier. But when they can no longer serve that purpose, their journey back to a normal existence and a family who can love and support them is often difficult. However, there are organizations that provide funds and programs to assist in this transition. If you’re interested in learning more please visit missionk9rescue.org/about-mission-k9-rescue.

I hope you enjoy reading Ty, Van and Kaia’s story! I’d love to hear from you at kirasinclair.com, or come chat with me on Twitter, @kirasinclair.

Best wishes,

Kira

Handle Me

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIRA SINCLAIR writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. A double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm...not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. Writing about sexy heroes and strong women has always excited her. She lives with her two beautiful daughters in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at kirasinclair.com.

For all the men, women and dogs who put their lives on the line every day to protect our country, our freedom and our way of life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter 17

Extract

Copyright

1

THE MOMENT WAS HAZY. Surreal. Nothing about this day should be happening. And yet, it was.

Numbness, desperate numbness, had finally begun to spread through his body thanks to the expensive bottle of whiskey Ty Colson had brought to his best friend’s wake.

Ryan would be pissed at all the somber faces and tears. They’d served together, so had talked about what they wanted if the worst actually happened.

Ty always thought it would be him.

It should have been him.

Hell, there wasn’t a single soul in his life who would care if he died. At least, not now that Ryan was gone.

But his buddy... Ty’s swimming, unsteady gaze dragged across the crowd of people who’d forced themselves into Ryan’s parents’ home. His buddy had so many people who would miss him.

An ache centered in the middle of Ty’s chest. He countered the pain by pouring another shot of liquor into the glass beside him, then slammed it back.

“Is this really how you want to pay your respects to my brother?”

Savannah Cantrell’s smooth, smoky voice slipped down his spine. Another ache, a familiar one, centered much further south, kicked into overdrive.

His gaze dragged from the golden-brown liquid sloshing over the side of his glass, up the perfect black dress that hugged her body, across the pale skin of her face to eyes that were pinched, unhappy and full of judgment.

So what else was new?

Van had hated him for years. No doubt blamed him for Ryan’s death, too.

She wouldn’t be wrong. Not really.

“Yes, as a matter of fact it is,” Ty said, happy to realize none of his words slurred. A shit-ton of whiskey might be coursing through his veins, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone realize just how wrecked he was.

Especially Van.

“Ryan wouldn’t have wanted this melancholy bullshit and you know it.”

Van’s mouth compressed. He expected her to start spewing a diatribe. Instead, to his utter shock, her chin began to quiver.

He hadn’t seen her cry once today. And that bothered him. Not because he didn’t think she was heartbroken over Ryan’s death—he knew she was—but because he understood, better than anyone, that she needed the release.

Van didn’t like anything messy or out of place. She liked her life perfect and controlled. He could have told her that was only an illusion, one easily killed by a single bomb blast.

Even now, her eyes glistened, but her jaw clamped tight, her will kicking in as she refused to let a single tear fall.

“Well, shit,” he growled. He couldn’t just let her stand there, fighting alone.

Ty reached for her, wrapping her in his arms. He offered her the only thing he had—comfort and understanding. Even as he braced for the inevitable rebuff.

Van hadn’t wanted anything from him in years.

But to his surprise, Van melted into him. Her body sagged as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her sweet, tempting scent ballooned around him. Something soft and feminine. Expensive.

Awareness crackled across his skin. He tried to ignore it, but that was difficult. Especially when she was right there, wrapped in his arms, his better judgment dulled by half a bottle of whiskey.

They stood for several moments, silent. She didn’t cry. That was a battle he’d always known she’d win. But her body trembled. The soft, almost imperceptible quiver running just beneath the surface of her skin as she fought to regain control impacted him more.

After several moments she breathed, “Get me out of here.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Grabbing the neck of the bottle with one hand, Ty wrapped his other arm around her. He ushered her through the throng of people, effectively cutting off several who tried to engage her in conversations she couldn’t entertain, then headed out the back door.

He was in no shape to drive and it was already dark, so their options were limited. But there was a tree house in the very back corner of the huge lot. If nothing else, it would give her some privacy and a break from the well-meaning mourners.

He and Ryan had helped Van’s dad, Nick, build the tree house when they were younger. Ty remembered the heat, the pain of smashing his thumb with a hammer and the sense of pride when they’d all stood together after weeks of work to admire the finished product. One of Nick’s arms had been slung around Ty’s shoulders, the other around Ryan’s. In that moment, he’d felt like he belonged.

From the ground, Ty watched Van climb up the pieces of wood nailed crookedly to the trunk of the huge tree. More memories flashed through his mind. Van, her dark brown hair in a single long braid, twisting around and sticking her tongue out at him. She’d tattled to her mom because he and Ryan wouldn’t let her up. Margaret had come out and given them both a lecture about how they should treat little girls.

But now, he broke every one of those rules as Van’s skirt belled out from her legs, flashing a glimpse of round curves and pale skin covered in black lace panties. A gentleman would have looked away; Ty couldn’t claim that title, no matter how many lectures Margaret had given.

His body responded with purpose at the tantalizing view. No whiskey dick for him.

This wasn’t a good idea.

Ty thought about turning around and heading back into the house when Van tipped backward and looked over her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

There was something taunting about her tone. Something that spurred him into action.

Grasping a rough-hewn board, Ty hauled himself up the tree and through the entrance they’d cut in the floor so many years ago.

The memories of building this place were some of the best of his childhood. At the moment, they were also some of the worst. Knowing his friend could never come up here again hurt like hell.

Here, the past assaulted him more than anywhere else, weighing him down with regret. Until his unsteady gaze drifted around, finally landing on Savannah.

The past and the present merged. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the day, or his grief. But he could see the child she’d been lurking inside the strong, stubborn, successful woman she’d become.

Savannah Cantrell was the girl he’d always wanted. The woman he could never have.

Van reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from him. He hadn’t remembered he’d tucked it under his arm. She lifted it to her deep pink lips and took a big gulp.

She sputtered, grimaced, sucked in air, then did it again.

“Easy, princess.” Ty moved for the bottle, but she pulled it out of his reach.

“I need to catch up.”

“You need to slow down or you’re going to end the night with your head hanging over the toilet.”

Savannah stared at him for several seconds, her expression blank. Then she tipped her head back and laughed. Belly-clutching, rolling laughter that was so out of place it felt ragged and painful.

All Ty could do was growl at her, “What the heck is so funny?”

“Do you know I’ve never gotten so drunk that I puked?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.”

“I’m thirty-two years old, Ty, and I’ve never been really drunk. I’ve never had a one-night stand. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of men I’ve slept with. And I promise you most of them weren’t worth the effort.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“I’ve spent my entire life doing the right thing. Making the right—safe—decisions. Working hard. Hell, I save lives for a living. But what goddamn good is that when Ryan is dead?”

Van grimaced and tipped the bottle back again. Ty wanted to wipe away the grief that sharpened her words and dulled her gorgeous eyes. But he couldn’t.

“So, tonight I’m going to get knee-walking drunk. I’m entitled. Feel free to go if you don’t want to watch the show.”

There was no way in hell he was leaving her alone. Not like this.

“For God’s sake, at least tell me you’ve eaten something today.”

Her lips twisted into a bastardized version of her smooth smile. “Nope. At least nothing that counts.”

She was going to hurt in the morning. But then, she was going to hurt tomorrow no matter what she did tonight. Ty understood the desire to drown the pain in alcohol at least for a little while. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing not thirty minutes ago?

“Fine, but you can’t drink alone.”

“Whatever.”

A breeze swirled through the open square windows. A shiver racked Van’s body. Ty could see the goose bumps spreading across her naked shoulders and arms from across the tree house.

Shaking his head, Ty walked over to the large plastic bin sitting on the far side of the small space. Lifting the lid, he found several old quilts and a couple of worn throw pillows Margaret had donated to the cause years ago when she’d remodeled.

They smelled of dust and age, but were dry and clean thanks to the well-sealed bin. Dragging them out, he spread one blanket across the floor, threw the pillows against the bin for support and left the second blanket in a pile so Van could wrap up. It might be early spring in Texas, but the nights could still feel like winter.

“Sit.”

Ty could tell the whiskey was already hitting her. Steady, perfect Van tottered as she tried to lower her body gracefully to the ground.

Instinct had him reaching for her, but she shoved his helpful hands away.

With a sigh, he settled beside her. Almost shoulder to shoulder, but Ty made sure not to touch her. Not just because it was obvious she didn’t want him to, but because he wasn’t really interested in torturing himself any more than necessary.

They sat in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth. She didn’t seem to notice that he barely took a sip when it was his turn. Or maybe she did and didn’t particularly care. Either way, the heavy silence didn’t last.

After about fifteen minutes Van broke it. “Do you remember that time you and Ryan crashed my slumber party?”

Of course he remembered. That was the night he finally realized Van was no longer the little sister who’d followed blindly behind his best friend, but a young woman with breasts and hips and soft pink lips he suddenly wanted to crush beneath his own.

He could have stopped her from sharing more—should have—but he didn’t.

He needed the good memories right now, because the bad ones felt like they were going to crush him.

A laugh fell from her parted lips, not quite bright, but not quite broken. “God, I was so pissed at y’all. I’d worked hard to get Kelley Morgan and Julia Price to come over. You guys scared the shit out of us and they both went screaming home in the middle of the night. Ruined my fifteenth birthday.”

That wasn’t the way he remembered it. “We didn’t ruin a damn thing. Kelley had a thing for Ryan and was only there because she thought you were her ticket into his pants. We were doing you a favor.”

Van shoved his shoulder, pushing him sideways. “You don’t think I knew that? Hell, I promised they could bump into him in the hallway after his shower, wearing nothing but a towel.”

Ty slowly turned to face her. “You pimped out your own brother just to get those girls to come to your birthday party?”

She shrugged. “What can I say? Not my finest moment. And you can’t convince me Ryan would have cared.”

No. No he wouldn’t have.

Shaking his head, Ty said, “God, I’ve missed you.” He had no intention of saying the words aloud, but apparently the whiskey had lubricated his tongue.

She grinned, her gorgeous pink mouth going wide and a little lopsided. Her gaze was blurry and bright, her movements sluggish as her shoulder bumped his and her head rested against him. “Me, too. Sucks, you know?”

She swayed slightly. Ty wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him to stabilize her. He stared down at her, a jumble of emotions tangling inside. Maybe if he’d been sober he could have sorted them out, but right now, that ability was lost to him.

What he did know was that she was beautiful and in his arms. Exactly where he’d always wanted her, but never expected her to be.

If she’d kept that aloof edge she used as a buffer he might have been able to resist. But her expression changed. The laughter melted away to something deeper, darker. Something he recognized because he felt it, too.

Need.

God, he couldn’t be good when she was looking at him that way.

Without thinking about it, Ty leaned down and kissed her, something he’d wanted since that summer she’d turned fifteen.

He couldn’t have her back then.

Hell, he couldn’t really have her now.

But the way she responded to him...he couldn’t let her go, either. Not tonight.

She made a sound deep in her throat, a strangled cry mixed with a whimper. The echo of it shot straight to his cock, as her fingers clenched in his shirt, wrinkling the fabric. But he didn’t give a shit. Because she wasn’t pushing him away, she was tugging him closer.

Her head fell back, offering her mouth, opening to give him more.

He couldn’t remember how it happened, but one minute they were sitting next to each other, the next Van was stretched out on the floor, the length of his body pressed tight against hers.

His hands trembled as they raced over her curves. He tried to memorize every sound, every reaction, before something could take them away again.

He wasn’t built for nice. Didn’t deserve beautiful. And Van was both of those things.

She arched into his touch anyway, silently begging for more.

Her pale green eyes flashed, tempting him as she watched his every move.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Wanting her was wrong before, and it was wrong now. Even more so, because the whiskey was clouding her judgment. And his for that matter.

He tried to pull away, to put some distance between them, but Van’s grip wouldn’t let go.

“Don’t,” she whispered, the word low and fierce.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t you dare stop, Ty Colson.”

Tangling their fingers together, she closed his fist around the hem of her dress and tugged upward.

He could fight himself, maybe. But he couldn’t fight her. He’d never been able to deny Van anything.

If she wanted this—needed him tonight—then he’d give it to her. And deal with the inevitable fallout later.

Ty dragged her dress up her creamy thighs, over her hips and then off over her head. Her bra matched the black lace panties he’d glimpsed earlier. Of course they did. Everything about Savannah Cantrell was sophisticated and put-together.

“God, Van, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? The men in this town must be complete idiots.”

She laughed, a brief burst that was gone before it was really there. “I’m too busy for the men in this town.”

Ty shook his head. “That wouldn’t stop me, if I was around.”

Reaching down, Ty flicked open the front clasp of her bra, letting her generous breasts spill out. He didn’t wait, leaning in to suck one deep into his mouth. She whimpered, arching into his caress. Her fingers scraped against his scalp, grasping his hair, holding him right where she wanted.

He liked that about Van. When she wanted something, she didn’t hesitate to take it.

But he was used to being the alpha in any pack. Ringing her wrists with his fingers, he pulled her hands away, then wrapped them around the handle on the storage bin behind her head.

“Hold on, princess.”

If this was the only time he was going to have Van Cantrell, he was going to make it memorable...for them both.

He spent the next twenty minutes torturing her, not to mention himself. His mouth and hands touched every inch of her body. Her skin was so soft and smooth, fragrant with the understated scent of her perfume and the heady fragrance of her arousal.

When he finally slipped down between her open thighs her skin was flushed and her hips writhed. Her sex glistened with need. And he was hungry to oblige.

He nibbled and teased, swirling his tongue close to her entrance before slipping up to lightly brush across her clit.

“Please, Ty. Please,” Van nearly sobbed. He relished in knowing he could make her beg. Make her forget.

His tongue speared deep inside as his finger found the tight knot of her clit. It barely took anything for her to shoot off.

She clenched around him. Her thighs clamped against his ears. He expected a scream, but her mouth opened on a silent cry as her eyes screwed tight. Her entire body shook with the force of her orgasm.

Satisfaction filled him, even as his dick throbbed painfully behind his zipper. God, he’d never been so turned on in his life.

Reaching into the pocket of his pants, Ty pulled out his wallet and the condom he always had stashed there. It’d been in there for months; he seriously hoped the thing was still good.

Dropping his pants to the floor, he ripped open the packet and rolled on the condom.

Standing above her, he looked down at Van, legs spread wide on the floor at his feet. Her body seemed boneless. He’d done that to her.

She watched him with half-lidded eyes, her gaze eating him up in a way that made him want to give her a repeat performance. But he knew he couldn’t survive another round, not right now, not without losing his mind.

Dropping to his knees, he reached for her, positioning the tip of his cock at her hot, wet entrance.

He waited for her to change her mind, or tell him to fuck off, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached for him. Her hands cupped his ass and pulled him closer, her hips bucking and eager.

She opened her thighs wider, silently inviting him to take whatever he wanted.

God, he wanted it all. Not just now. He wanted anything he could get forever. Pain lanced through his chest, but Ty beat it back. He knew there was nothing more than tonight.

Hell, this could very well be the last time he ever saw her.

That thought sent him into a frenzy. The need to leave his mark on her in some way was so overwhelming he couldn’t logic it away.

His hips slammed against hers, claiming her in one quick, deep thrust.

Van gasped, her lips parting as her head tipped back. Her fingers dug into his ass, urging him to give her more.

“God, you feel so good, Van. Unbelievable.” Ty dropped his forehead against hers. His lips brushed across her temple. Hers found his throat. She kissed him, the soft touch blending into something more when her teeth nipped at his skin.

She sucked, drawing his pounding pulse into her mouth. She was going to leave a mark of her own, but Ty didn’t give a damn.

His hips pistoned against hers in deep, smooth strokes that made the world gray around them. The only thing that felt real was him and her. Together. Finally.

Her labored breaths puffed against his skin, and her mouth found him, licking and leaving rows of tiny teeth marks across his shoulders, throat and collarbone. Each tug sent a jolt straight to his cock.

She was right there with him, meeting him stroke for stroke. He could feel the walls of her sex tightening around him, so close. Ty held on, delaying his own release, which threatened to blind him.

Van whispered mindless, garbled words, but his body recognized exactly what she was asking for.