Rescuing Miami: Miami Nights, #2

By Elle Boon

USA Today Bestselling author Elle Boon takes us from Miami to Texas in this steamy thriller that will have you looking over your shoulder. Sexy alphas, explosive chemistry, and thrilling passion…

A MAN WHO'D LOST EVERYTHING…Ando thought his life was over when he lost his fiancée in a boating accident, but when he's given another shot at love, he'll do anything to keep Jules safe.

HIS SAVING GRACE…Jules is used to saving lives, but when a cult targets her after she saves a young woman, she goes into hiding, only to rescue a man who makes her feel things she's never felt before.

A LOVE THAT ALMOST WASN'T ENOUGH…Can Ando and Jules find love with each other, or will they be torn apart before it even begins?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elle Boon
• Release date: Jul 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386898313

Elle Boon

Elle Boon lives in Middle-Merica as she likes to say…with her husband, two kids, and a black lab who is more like a small pony. She’d never planned to be a writer, but when life threw her a curve, she swerved with it, since she’s athletically challenged. She’s known for saying “Bless Your Heart” and dropping lots of F-bombs, but she loves where this new journey has taken her. She writes what she loves to read, and that is romance, whether it’s erotic, Navy SEALs, or paranormal, as long as there is a happily ever after. Her biggest hope is that after readers have read one of her stories, they fall in love with her characters as much as she did. She loves creating new worlds, and has more stories just waiting to be written. Elle believes in happily ever afters, and can guarantee you will always get one with her stories. Connect with Elle online, she loves to hear from you:

Book preview

Chapter One

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Jules Parker stopped along the beach, an eerie feeling sunk into the pit of her stomach. An EMT by profession and growing up with enough older brothers to spare, she didn’t usually mind walking alone at night as she’d grown up learning how to defend herself. However, something made the hair on her arms stand on end. She pulled the can of Mace out of her purse and fished her phone out, ready to dial 911.

The sight of the fire down further along the beach wasn’t unusual, but that part of the beach had been closed off, and she didn’t think it had been opened yet due to safety concerns. Shit, I do not want to deal with a bunch of drunk frat boys, she muttered.

In her hands she held the Mace in one, and her phone in the other, ready to use either if the situation called for it. The closer she got to the blaze, she could hear what sounded like chanting, along with a woman’s muffled voice. Having sex on the beach wasn’t the most legal thing, but lots of people did it. She’d actually lost her virginity on a beach blanket her senior year of high school, but something kept her moving forward. If she was like the action hero Peter Parker, her spidey senses would’ve been going haywire.

Five figures loomed around the fire, their bodies cloaked in black robes. Immediately she hit the call button as she realized this wasn’t a normal group of guys when she caught sight of two of the men holding knives looking more like medieval weapons. They crouched down, one of the men’s hoods fell back, exposing his pale face.

Operator, what is your emergency? A woman’s voice broke through the quiet of the night from her phone.

The men turned, and that was when she saw the form on the ground, her arms and legs spread out on the sand, a gag of some sort was secured around her mouth.

I’m at Ray Roberts State Park. There’s five men holding a woman down on the ground, she hurriedly said, giving the best description of her location as the men realized they were no longer alone.

Shit, one of the men swore, leaping to his feet.

The woman on the ground moaned, and began thrashing.

Jules wished she had her gun, or some other weapon as all five men got up from their crouched positions. I’ve already called 911. They’re on their way. Fear had her voice quivering, but she didn’t back down, holding the can of Mace up ready to spray any and all who came at her.

She didn’t take her eyes off the men with the knives, not even when one of the guys took off and ran toward the parking lot.

Joey, get your ass back here you pussy. The deep growl had her gaze darting to the man speaking.

Hate filled eyes stared at her through the darkness. This ain’t over, whore.

Jules stumbled backward when he lunged toward her, sand flinging in the air. She let a stream of Mace loose from the can, knowing exactly how badly it would sting all in its vicinity. She waited for the howls, which came quickly.

Miss, are you still there? The operator’s voice broke through the loud rasp of her breathing. Cursing from the men as they’d tried to dodge the spray echoed as well, while she held her ground. No way in hell was she going to show fright, even though she was shaking like a leaf on a tree in a windstorm.

I suggest you run, she yelled. Never had she prayed so hard for bad guys to flee the scene of a crime. Her own eyes burned from the backlash of the Mace, yet the men had to be worse off. Seconds seemed like hours as she waited for their cursing to cease. The one who’d called her a whore gave a growl, then turned to sprint towards the same direction the other man had run. Her heart was beating so hard and loud, she was sure they could hear it.

Miss, are you there? Are you in danger? The persistent voice grated on her nerves, and the last thing Jules wanted to do was take her attention from where the men had gone. She swiveled her head back and forth, moving closer to the woman on the ground.

Oh, God, please don’t let them come back, she prayed. Pressing the speaker button, she tried to stay calm as she heard the sound of a car start, then tires squeal in the distance.

When she was close enough to the fire, she got her first glimpse of the woman. Her blood ran cold, and her heart nearly stopped. Lying completely naked, with a multitude of slashes and stab wounds, the dark haired female stared up at her with fear and pain etched on her face.

We need an ambulance. There’s a woman with multiple stab wounds and possible...other wounds. Jules dropped to her knees, forgetting about the men who might be coming back and worked to get the gag off. It’s okay, my name is Jules. The police are on their way, she soothed. A deep cut near the left breast almost as if they were making a circle around it, had her wincing. What the hell were they going to do, cut it off?

It took more effort to untie the ropes holding her down. Damn it, what the hell did they do, use tent stakes and super knots like some boy scouts? She growled, hating it was taking so much time while the young girl lay there crying. With nothing to offer her to cover up with since she only had her bikini top and a pair of cutoff jeans over her bottoms, Jules hurried to free her. Worry for the woman’s welfare and mental state ate at her.

Every few seconds she stopped to listen, making sure the men didn’t come back. What seemed like hours, but couldn’t have been more than minutes later, she had both arms and legs free.

Thank you, the girl whispered, her eyes cloudy with pain.

Jules training kicked in, as she checked the girl’s vitals, explaining she was an EMT for Dallas Fire & Rescue. She thought of running to her car to grab a blanket as she watched the girl shake, but changed her mind as she heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

I’m going to flag them down. She stood, then winced as the girl grabbed her leg.

Don’t leave me, she cried out brokenly.

Looking down at the bloody woman, Jules felt tears well in her eyes. I won’t.

Several hours later, she sighed. That was truly one of the worst things I have ever encountered.

Detective Jones stared at her with a grim look. Sadly, it’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, and it won’t be the last you’ll probably see either.

Once they had Marietta cleaned up, sewed up, and in a room, Jules was finally able to see her for a few minutes. A satanic ritual though? she asked.

He looked up at the night sky. I will say that was a first for me, too. Don’t think I’ve had a case like that either, but in this day and age, one can’t never say never.

Well, I for one wish I could have said I would never have come across what I did tonight. She shivered as she recalled the scene. God, the horror Marietta must have gone through. All in all, she had over a hundred and twenty stitches, and what she’d thought was right. They’d planned to remove her left breast as part of some ritual. What kind of sick bastards think to take parts of a woman’s body and offer it to their whatever is okay? She ran her hands up and down her arms, wishing she had a shirt to put on over her bikini.

Detective Jones shrugged, his features looking haggard. You said it yourself. They’re sick bastards. Come on, I’ll give you a ride to your car. You did good tonight. Something your pops would be proud of.

His words had her standing a little taller. Being the product of a mixture of Cuban and Irish parents she wanted to please them all. She took after her mother in looks, with her Cuban heritage strongest, but her father, who’s Irish with his striking red hair and coloring. However, he was a fireman just as his father before him had been. She became an EMT with thoughts of becoming a firefighter. Yeah, she was a daddy’s girl, and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. With all the men in her family being firemen or military, she hadn’t been allowed to be a girly girl. Her slight breakdown must not have been too terrible.

They pulled up next to her Toyota pickup, the black on black truck with the chrome wheels was her one extravagant purchase. The detective waited for her to get in and start the truck before he nodded and gestured for her to go ahead. Yep, good southern boys wouldn’t leave her alone in the parking lot, no matter their age. If she’d only stayed with her group of friends on the other stretch of the beach...no, she wouldn’t think like that. If she’d stayed there, Marietta would be dead. Jules sucked in a lung full of air, and let it out. Circumstances were a funny thing. Had the shithead she went to the party with not have been such a dick, she would have stayed, then her night would’ve ended much different.

****

Fernando looked out at the dock for the fiftieth time. He’d completed rehab over six months ago, yet he still couldn’t go back to Miami and face his family. He picked up his glass of sweet tea and took a sip. A year ago, his glass would’ve been filled with the best whiskey and he’d have had the bottle sitting next to him, waiting to be poured with a hot woman or two on his arm or lap.

He took a sip of the sweet drink, no longer needing the oblivion like he had. No, now he got up, ate, drank water or the sweet fucking tea, worked out, and sat out on the deck and stared at the sun whether it was rising or setting. Sometimes, he’d run along the beach or drive into Dallas just to feel normal, Fernando snorted. What the hell was normal anyhow? Alcohol and drugs hadn’t been his preferred way to escape.

He got up and leaned on the edge of the deck, staring out at the lake. Up and down he saw huge boats. Not nearly as big as what they had in Miami, but big enough for the area. Girls in tiny bikinis ran by, making him shake his head. No matter where you were, women were gorgeous in next to nothing. He raised his hand, waving as the duo smiled and waved.

Today, he was going to walk onto the pier where the boat was docked. This was the day he’d see if he could actually make it all the way out to touch the damn thing without breaking out in a cold sweat.

Fuck, I’m so screwed up, he muttered. Not since his fiancée had died in a boating accident, her life and that of her unborn child, had he been able to face getting back into the water sober. I thought rehab was supposed to fix me? He glared at the sky, the perfect blue mocked him.

For two years after her death he’d spiraled out of control. Partying and wasting his life away, until finally his older brother had given him an ultimatum. Get clean, or else, only his brother didn’t realize he wasn’t doing the things he was accusing him of, but he couldn’t admit to Ren what he was actually doing. Lorenzo , or Ren Delgado didn’t make empty threats, and Fernando knew his brother would take away everything he’d worked for, leaving nothing but an inheritance that meant nothing. Oh sure, Fernando would still be rich, and his parents would always love him. But, he didn’t want to have his life taken away. Didn’t want his brother to have to carry him, like he was some sort of leper. No, Fernando would rather die than have people think he was less than a man of worth.

Now, he felt like he was a shell of himself. He couldn’t go home and face any of his family. How could he when he could barely face himself in the mirror. Fuck, just get it over with, he muttered. Walking down the steps, his feet bare, he felt the sand beneath him, and shivered. Not from cold, but from a feeling of doom. Or anticipation. He was going to do it today.

Once he reached the dock, he paused, breathing in the air, then continued walking until he reached the end. The big boat rocked with the waves as another boat sped by. The passengers yelled or sang, Fernando wasn’t sure as his ears were ringing. Goddammit, not this time.

Bending at the waist, breathing deep, he waited until his vision cleared before walking back to the rental home. The fact he’d made it all the way out was one step closer to making it past a hurdle. Now, if he could just get his ass into the boat and into the water, he’d be cured. A snort escaped him as he stepped onto the path