Spring Break with a Hero (Love Beach Spring Break Collection)

1. Walking into Danger

ONE

WALKING INTO DANGER

JACKSON ALEXANDER

Stakeouts in movies may look exciting, but in real life they’re a total bore—unless you’re into squeezing yourself behind a crate on the dock for hours waiting for the bad guys. If they finally show, though, that surge of adrenaline will hit me while busting their asses, and that’s the greatest feeling in the world. I’m that guy—the hero who makes it all happen.

Sitting near a fishing boat reeking of fish guts is hardly the life of a legend, yet here I am tonight. Patience isn’t my strong suit, and I’m not one to call this drudgery fun. Still, I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything—especially when in a few hours, if our intel is correct, our mission will be accomplished. Bad guys locked away. Accolades for my bravery handed to me. If all goes as planned.

After my team scores a juicy last-minute tip via radio surveillance on smugglers hauling guns from Central America to Love Beach, we’re locked in at the docks waiting for the drop. The smugglers are due here tonight to meet their buyer, international gunrunner Lorenzo Ybarra—a real piece of work I’ve been tracking for ages, and I can’t wait to capture him.

Ybarra frequently uses locations in small towns like this for his business transactions, hoping to fly under the radar. But the special ops team I work for are on to them now. The only problem is, my guys are still en route.

We’ve got eyes in the pitch-black sky—a drone courtesy of my crack special task force from multiple agencies. On land, I’m teamed up with Officer Davis Levigne and his local police crew posted strategically around the perimeter. We’re all on edge, ready to pounce on any sign of trouble.

I check the time again. “Something’s off,” I say low to Davis, irritation lacing my tone as we’ve been hunkered down behind crates for hours. “My gut tells me tonight’s drop is not happening.”

“Maybe a decoy? If they sniffed you out, they could be moving the meeting. Heck, they might even be testing your intel,” Davis replies, sharp as ever. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone as a liaison on this gig. My team is top-notch, but my gut agrees with his take.

“This is Jackson. Sound off by position,” I bark the order, the small earpiece I wear doubling as a microphone and radio. The latest tech is our salvation on operations like this.

“Dawson here. North section clear. Over.”

“Parker here. West section clear. Over.”

One by one, the rest of the team checks in. The closest units to the drop are me, Davis, and his two officers, Noah Dawson and Alden Parker—old friends and fellow Love Beach officers. The home field advantage is real, which is why the brass of my unit trusts me to run this show here.

“Maintain positions,” I confirm with a sigh as I glance at the sky. Partly cloudy yet still able to view an incredible show of stars, chilly evenings in early spring like these will soon progress to more mild nights as the temperatures rise. Just in time for spring breakers to flood the tiny town.

“About three more hours until dawn,” Davis says.

“Looks like tonight’s a bust. You might as well have stayed home with Belle and that little one baking in her oven. Hey, I’m catching Beau playing in the game Friday night. Come with me?”

“I wish. It’s been a while since I caught one of your brother’s hockey games. Looked at his stats the other day; Beau’s killing it this season. But my weekend’s taken. Belle’s got me on a tight leash,” comes his reply.

“Man, get over being pussy whipped,” I tease, coughing into my hand over the words for effect.

“Real mature, Jackson. Or maybe you’re just bitter you don’t have a warm, willing woman waiting for you in bed every night,” Davis snaps back. We’ve been friends forever, so I’m not worried about getting his back up.

“Sure, you got me. A woman’s exactly what I need to complicate my otherwise perfect life right now,” I say, every syllable laced with sarcasm. Truth is, I crave complication—but not from just anyone. A particular woman comes to mind who I’d enlist to make my life more difficult.

“Belle thinks you do. Not sure what’s gotten into her lately with the baby and all our nesting?—”

“Nesting? That some new naughty move I haven’t tried?” I quip.

“I wish. It’s where you barely leave the house except to make a hundred trips to Babies Are Us to deck out the nursery. Anyway, Belle’s convinced you and Gigi should hit it off now that you two are older.”

I snort at that. My lifestyle doesn’t suit dating or settling down—and Gigi probably still considers me her sworn enemy from high school.

“So consider this fair warning in case my wife invites you and her sister over for an innocent little dinner once she finds out you’re back home,” Davis chuckles, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Home… makes me wonder. After my last visit to Love Beach, I thought I might stick around, even considered getting out of the military altogether. But once Davis and I shut down a drug cartel’s plan to use our town as a money-laundering haven a couple of years ago, things went quiet here. The brass asked me to extend my contract, then sent me over to the smugglers’ task force in Central America.

Now I’m back, under the guise of being on leave to visit my family, and I still haven’t seen Gigi. While here, I’ll be overseeing a covert operation to apprehend Ybarra, and I have no clue how long this mission will last.

“Well, hell, we should call it a night,” I start.

The radio crackles, jolting me. “Jackson, we got movement—west dock—closest to me. Solo figure, small build. Could be a woman. Should I check it out? Please advise.” Parker’s voice is urgent.

“What the—?” Davis squints through his binoculars. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

I grab my special ops binoculars with night vision and scope it out myself, zeroing in on a female silhouette in a black hooded sweatshirt. When she curves around the warehouse corner, I catch a glimpse of a glow-in-the-dark rock band logo on her chest. When the woman pushes thick-rimmed glasses up her nose, my heart drops.

I recognize her instantly. “Damn. It’s Gigi,” I mutter under my breath, holding back a string of harsher words reserved for the woman who drives me crazy—in more ways than one.

She’s rocking the same garment she pinched from me back in high school one night when Beau and I held a party while our grandparents were traveling. I never let on that I knew she took it because, honestly, the thought of her in it, especially close to her bare skin, got my blood pumping.

“Why the hell is she here?” Davis grumbles.

“Probably sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. The last thing we need is her scribbling about our operation in the Love Beach Buzz daily news, setting the town gossip mill running,” I retort. “She’ll screw this up, or worse, get caught in the crossfire and we won’t be able to protect her.”

“I swear my sister-in-law can be a royal pain sometimes.” Davis shakes his head.

I hit the radio again. “Parker, are you on her?”

“I got eyes on her and tracking. She’s inside the warehouse. Moving in closer. Over,” he reports.

Then Dawson yells through my earpiece, “We got company—a truck headed right toward her position.”

“You want me to grab her?” Parker asks.

I bark out, “Hold your position. Everyone stay put until I say so. Out.” The last thing I want is gunfire, with Gigi caught in the middle of the chaos.

Keeping low, I work quickly, making my way down the dock and across to the warehouse, everything unnervingly quiet except the approaching sounds of a truck. I peek my head in through the warehouse door, but there’s no one around as far as I can see in the moonlit vast space filled with crates stacked here and there.

I move in, sticking to the shadows, crate to crate, but my pace stumbles when I catch the sound of a struggle and Gigi’s muffled scream. By the time I round another box, I find her crumpled on the ground with retreating footsteps echoing toward the door. I lift my gun to fire a shot, but it’s too late. The perp escaped. I don’t see a soul.

Except Gigi. My heart pounds out of my chest. If they hurt her?—

I rush over and crouch beside her battered form, calling into my earpiece, “The woman is down. The perp slipped away. Anyone got eyes on them?”

“They must have ducked back into the truck because it’s high-tailing it out of here. On foot, I can’t get close enough to make out the plates,” Parker calls into my ear.

“Stand down,” I respond.

Without a second thought, I scoop her into my arms, my hands trembling as I brush strands of hair from her face, noticing a trail of blood from a nasty gash on her forehead—probably from being bashed with the butt of a gun.

“I can’t lose you, Gigi. Stay with me.” Holding back raw emotion, I can only manage a whisper.

Her eyes flutter half open, finding my face. She utters a weak, fragmented “Jackson?” before her body goes limp in my arms.