Marine Captain Tamia Kuan is no stranger to war. Raised in war-torn Tibet, and then turned loose with the street gangs of Old San Francisco, Tamia is living proof that no matter the crisis, the strong will survive. On the streets, she learned to bury her heart to survive, and, but the end of the world war known as the Divide, that survival depended on no longer having a heart at all. But one man’s doubt in her innocence will turn the tables on her, and force her to free her heart. For, in the midst of one of the deadliest counterespionage missions of her life, the one thing that saves her life could be love.
“Confrontation” – Excerpted from TAMIA (Underground, Book 1)
The sound of voices, from Communications, reached him. The first shivered along his awareness, and he knew instantly that was Tamia. The other was familiar, and male, but Rick couldn’t place it. His brow furrowed as he wondered what happened; Rick strode across the command center to the open door of Comms, and froze as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head.
Tamia sat at the console, her head bent forward so that her hair fell across her face. Behind her stood Matt Clipper, a grin on his face that Rick wanted to pound out of him as the darker man’s hands massaged her exposed neck and shoulders, wringing a small groan from the woman.
“God, that’s good.” Tamia’s voice was tinged with laughter. “Okay, so I stand corrected. You do have God’s hands.”
A shaft of pure rage avalanched through Rick at sight and words combined. Dammit, if he couldn’t touch her, he sure as Hell didn’t want anyone else pawing her, either! His eyes narrowed. Matt and Tamia were both products of the streets; they probably had more in common than he and Tamia did. Just how close were these two, anyway?
“I keep tellin’ ya, Chinagirl. Black is be—” Matt stopped as his gaze flicked over, and met Rick’s scowl. Rick watched with dark humor as the other man’s eyes widened, just before his hands fell away from Tamia and he muttered, “Oh, shit.”
“Why’d you stop?” Tamia asked from behind the curtain of her hair, then straightened to look around. “What’s the mat—? Rick!”
Matt swallowed hard and took a step away. His eyes moved nervously to the outside door of Comms. “I’m outta here. See ya later, Blade.”
With that, he beat a hasty exit, Rick’s glare following him into the corridor. As soon as Matt was gone, Rick turned his frustrated rage on Tamia.
“What the hell was going on in here?”
“Not that it’s any of your business.” Her posture was instantly defensive. He knew he took the wrong tack with her, but damn it all, he was too pissed to care. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell her why he was pissed. Especially not with that red fire that flashed in her eyes. “Matt just stopped in to drop off his mission notes. He was helping me work the kinks out of my neck and shoulders.”
“Damn it, Tamia!” He stalked over to her, yanking her seat around as he bent over her and let her see the frustration that burned in him. The flicker of fear in her eyes lasted only for a second, but it was enough to turn his roar of frustration into a hot accusation. “What is it with you? Do you get some kind of rise out of tormenting people, or something?”
She jerked away in clear anger as she rose to her feet and grabbed up a file. She ignored him as she headed for the Command Center. At the door, she finally stopped to look back at him. “I don’t recall doing anything of the kind. Just who am I supposedly torturing, anyway?”
“Me,” he growled. He caught her just inside the doorway as he dropped his head to cover her lips in a punishing kiss. She gasped against his mouth, and the sound of paper hitting the concrete floor filtered through his consciousness, only to be swept away by a raging flood of hunger as he drank in her sweet response.
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