Love In Their Stars: Heroes N Hearts, #2

By Carissa Marks

Sage Collier is a US Marshal & in deep danger on multiple fronts, added to that--she's injured. She heads to the only safe place she knows...her ex's rarely used place in the city. 
Nick Avery, USArmy Ranger, has been sidelined after watching his kid brother nearly die on the battlefield. He's gone to the place to lick his wounds, 
Instincts kick in as soon as he lays eyes on Sage. She's hurt and in danger. In that instant, he knows...he'll never be over her. But can he keep her alive long enough to see if they can find love, again.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carissa Marks
• Release date: Feb 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386899396

Carissa Marks

Started writing at 8, later in life I have written for newspapers, a military life style magazine, school news paper, and then hit the big time when a story was published in an anthology put out by the University of Edinburgh. I have a masters degree in creative writing multimedia(just got it)and I waited to go back to school until I was 50. Spent 20 plus yrs chasing the military, raising kids and then...you're never to old. I hope to be an inspiration to my girls, all of them.

Book preview

ONE

Prowling through the open-air market, US Marshal Sage Collier couldn't shake the creepy sensation of being watched. That morning she had shipped the body of her prisoner off to Miami. Damn bee. She hadn't gotten over the shock yet. They should tell us when we have a pick up with an allergy, she muttered under her breath. One beneficial thing about speaking multiple languages, she played the unknowing gringa while picking up a ton of intel. Men gathered at a patio table next door discussed the size of her breasts and a local drug cartel leader, Cacho, as they drank coffee. Occasionally they would come out with something new. She moved to a rickety boardwalk running the length of three stalls. Sage picked up a piece of jewelry, examining the workmanship hid her scoping out the area.

A nun brushed up against her. American lady would like to speak with you. Please. Sage laid the piece down, complimented the stall owner on her work, and wandered off a few yards behind the nun. Bogota was sticky and the flies would make one go a little batty. As they wandered, both women nonchalantly checked out their immediate area.

Who and why? That was answered soon enough. A woman sat in a van behind a table. Nuns were setting out information on a free health clinic. Sage recognized the woman on sight.

Did you explain that I just want my kids back? Frantically her gaze roamed from one to the other. Once manicured nails had been chewed down, a pinched nose sister pulled the woman's hand away before she chomped on her thumbnail again.

She didn't need to. I remember seeing you on TV.

Their father is doing computer work for Cacho Inc. I went looking, no such thing. He won't stop me from visiting them here. However, their passports are in the regional General's office. He said they share the space.

The shortest of the four nuns spoke up, I can show you a secret hallway, it will take you across the compound. They, nun and law officer, looking like a pair of long and short comic characters, stepped carefully along the path—listening closely to the chatter of the guards, Cacho's and Fazti's men. Some days one couldn't tell the three factions apart from what Sage picked up. 

Marshal Collier followed the sister, have you ever seen...a penguin come to tea? She shook herself; that memory she didn't need. Nothing to remind her of Lizzy; not then, not later, not today or any other day, she shook her head as if to shake the memory.  I've overheard some things; I'll need to come up with a disguise.

We may be able to help. We keep a stockpile of items used to help women vanish to better lives. An hour later, she had gone from strawberry blond hair to dark brown. She had on a pair of dark denim pants and a white blouse. Sage left her backpack with the nun.

I have a bad premonition about this. If this goes sideways, bring my backpack to the pickup zone. If I don't show, she scowled at the mom, Put your butt on the plane and go, even if you have to leave them for now. Take my backpack. I wrote a phone number on the backside of the name thing inside the luggage tag. Tell them you have my pack and exactly where you are. They'll come rescue me.

People were milling about inside; the General and cartel leaders were making a show of what they were doing to help out the poor and others. A buffet had been set up in one large, airy room. Easels held displays of things that were to come as far as housing and aid. Sage slipped into an office, nothing. The next one, however, she hit pay dirt. Top drawer, center, like whichever ego was in charge would never contemplate someone invading and taking anything. She tucked the passports into her boot. A paper sticking out of the pile caught her attention. Reading what hung out of the stack had her doing a once over of the office. A puzzle box seemed like a no brainer, so she almost passed the box up. Instead, she opened it and pulled the zip drive hidden inside. She dropped the purple cased drive into her boot also.

Using a letter opener, she slipped the tip behind a large expensive painting. With a bit of finesse, she popped out a mini-CD from the frame and shook her head. The only place she could put the disc, was in her shirt, tucked in her bra. She slipped out to the hall and across to the ladies' room.  She was drying her hands as a cover when the first gunshots rang out and several women ran inside. Damn it. Sage took a deep breath and walked out, into a hellish thirty-six-hour gunfight between rival cartels. At one point they were all shepherded into one room. Fazti had a mean side, he reminded her of the town ran by a cruel drunkard...a woman sniffled in the corner. One small thing had attracted his attention and ire. From there it all went bad. For hours.

Sounds of a chopper cut through the chaos; massive firepower was unleashed in the courtyards confirming her thoughts.

Their day was screwed in a whole new way.

Uniformed soldiers came in, one of Cacho's goons yanked open the door, she realized he said something that had a matching answer from a question posed by what appeared to be a US soldier. All eyes were on the goon, but when he turned around, she had disappeared. No way I'm trusting that one. Nope. Not today.

The nun met her outside the compound walls. Run, they lit out for the jungle. Like Olympic hurdlers meshed with marathoners. The nun hiked her habit up to her knees, again reminding Sage of a cartoon penguin as they raced through the thick foliage of the jungle.

At the first pickup spot, they traded out. The nun stayed in the village; a local girl led the way to escort Sage to safety. Two days on the run seemed like two decades. They finally made their way to the tiny private airport and onto their planes. She didn't have time to listen to the mom gush her thanks. Sage snatched her backpack and shooed them onto their aircraft.

Her flight took her into Panama, another of their planted informant-come-agents, Joaquin, met her. Chica...wha da hell? They lookin for you! With his shoulder-length wavy hair and good-looks, he reminded her of the front man for several bands. He practically stuffed her into the car and swung out into traffic. Did you get the license plate number off the truck that hit you?

Ha! He only thought he was a truck. Yeah, he was hurting. Made damn sure of that. He handed her a room key and waited for any signs of trouble as she ran up the steps. She took one look at the suicide shower and decided she'd use the sink.

What jackass thought putting electricity and water in the same postage-stamp-sized shower would be a grand idea? No freaking thank you. Not in that much of a hurry to die. She muttered about a dozen more things as she washed the rest of the dye out of her hair and started patching wounds from the run. Waiting for her hair to dry, she plugged in the drive, a quick once over made finding a way out of Panama and to someplace truly safe, priority one. 

In the morning, Joaquin showed up with a takeout container of food and a bag. No flights out today. He turned his head as he checked out the hair. Better. Never do dark...looks like something that belonged, he stopped and shrugged. Weather, expansive tropical thing. I'll be back later. He left her, literally, holding the bag and box of food. 

Patacones, not a fan of fried plantains but I am hungry. Coffee, in twin thermos jugs, yes! And aha, the man remembered...chicken wings. She toed the sixties era chair around and sat at the rickety table. Force of habit had her sitting so she couldn't be seen.

The last thing she grabbed in the office was a manila envelope of documents and papers. Some of which she deciphered, other parts, were beyond her abilities. Joaquin came back late in the afternoon. Rain drenched the area most of the day. They managed to make their way to a hotel frequented by ex-pats and vacationers. She chowed down on a burger and listened to several conversations around her. 

He made sure her room was clear. The next morning was still a no-go. When the all-clear to travel finally came, she took a to the airport. Sage used her badge to board the flight without too much difficulty. In Miami, she retrieved the body and got him headed toward Langley for proper verification. The paper chase took the better part of a day to complete. Along with the body, went an envelope for her boss. In a few hours she regretted that move.

At sunup she got on a plane, in DC switched to the train. Cold winds were cutting along the tracks, in the club car she saw a weather report. Great, I feel like hell and Mother Nature is gonna screw me over. Damn it to hell and back. Talking to herself became a common occurrence. She bailed in NYC. A game plan quickly formed.  I have keys to a swanky little hidey-hole. This could work just fine.

TWILIGHT HAD DRIFTED in with its cold gray shroud to blanket the normally busy streets. Snow swirled from the tops of buildings meshing with more plowing down the wind tunnel of the concrete jungle New York City reminded him of. Nick Avery stood, one arm braced against the frame of the floor to ceiling window looking down on the few remaining people scurrying about on the sidewalks trying to escape the weather Armageddon coming to hold the otherwise bustling city hostage and down at his Rottweiler, Tucker. Don't even think hard about it bub, you’ll use the covered section of the balcony or tie a knot. You're so spoiled you won't go out in the deep stuff anyway.  

Tucker's tongue hung out of his mouth with his head tipped, a new tennis ball loosely held in his jaws. Can't believe they grounded me...what the hell do they think I'm going to do? Take a dive off the deep end? Tucker spit out the ball and left the room, but he didn't think about why. Nick and his thoughts were so tangled, he didn't even hear the key meeting the door lock.

No, Willow, I'm okay. She set her navy-blue version of a seabag on the floor and moved the grocery bag to her other hand. Naw, he's probably off on some super dangerous mission playing hero. I'll be alright. Love ya, sis. Sage pushed the door open, her head felt as if it was spinning like a top as she leaned to grab the seabag to move it inside.

From the time she landed in DC and jumped on the northbound train, she kept a running dialogue with herself. She was well aware she was physically in trouble on two fronts, but that couldn't slow her down at that moment. At that point, her only goal was getting someplace warm and safe to doctor her wounds. Sage was so intent upon dragging her stuff in, she never heard the dog easing up behind her until she turned and let out a small scream. Holy! She stumbled against the door. Damn it. Tucker. You scared the hell outta...Tucker. Realization set in as her chin met her chest, the stubby-tailed black and mahogany dog came with a human. A six-foot-five-inch bastion of testosterone and attitude who was so exactly not what she needed right then, and yet, he stood, looming in the kitchen doorway. She couldn't make out his face in the dim light but figured he wouldn't be happy. Break-ups have that effect.

Nick...sorry, I didn't know you were here, let me set this junk down long enough to find a hotel and I'll be out of your way. He caught the shine in her eyes. It wasn't the happy gleam; she was ready to cry and he definitely heard the crack in her voice. Tucker stuck his head under her hand; he looked goofy with his tongue flopping about with his eyes half-closed as she absentmindedly stroked his ears. Shouldn't take me but a minute.

He still couldn't believe she was standing in his family’s hide away, calmly speaking to him—too calm for his liking. The way she eased onto the edge of the deep chocolate brown sofa and perched on her left side instead of flopping down like she usually would didn’t escape his attention. He spotted the dark splotch along her jawline. He cleared the space in a couple of long strides, setting his drink down with enough force she expected the smoked glass coffee table to shatter. The way taken she cringed and pulled her arms in close took him aback. He knew one thing for certain, in less than a beat of his heart. Someone was going to die at his hand.  

Who did that?  His eyes turned a shade she described as stormwater blue.

She knew exactly what he was talking about. Her fingertips skittered over the bruise. I fell. I guess heels and whiskey don't mix after all. Her eyes gave her away. A snowplow blade banged on street level, echoing up to them, she flinched again. In his heart, he understood she was not merely avoiding the truth; she was scared and ready to rabbit out of there into god only knew what. Her hands shook as she scrolled through the internet listing on her phone.

Sage, She barely glanced his way.  Smudges under her eyes belied her I'm fine attitude she attempted to project. There are four bedrooms in this place and a blizzard outside. I think this joint is roomy enough for us to stay out of each other's way for a day or two.  A plethora of emotions crossed her face as her hands slowly sank to her lap.

I don't want to space invade Nick. Something in her voice sent warning alarms loud enough to make the hair on his arms stand up. I... She took a deep breath and leaned slightly to her left as she did. I thought this place would be empty. Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.

No invading. You have a key and a standing invite. Her head dropped, Hey, we're adults...we can share a space this size. His hand went to the back of his neck, he rubbed as he spoke. And I should be gone. The rest pulled out yesterday. I've been sidelined for at least thirty days. Her head came up, their eyes locked. Shrink said I need a break. Her cherry juice red lips made an ‘O', it left him wondering if she had any idea how that one action had been converted to something erotic in his mind. He shrugged, picked up his glass, and walked to the bar to add some more to it. As Nick sipped at the liquor, every sense he possessed said this was beyond bad and on multiple levels. Come on. Let's haul your stuff to a room. He waited to see which way she'd go. She grabbed her backpack and headed for the farthest room down the short hallway, it had an en-suite bathroom so, in a way, he truly wasn't surprised.

Nothing about her escaped Nick. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was still bundled up against the cold. I've got some of mom's potato soup thawing, there's plenty for two. I'll give you a heads up when dinner is ready, okay?

Sage nodded and waited for him to back out of the room before sinking to the floor. Her salty tears ran freely, Damn it to hell and back. He is so not the complication I need right now. Damn, damn, damn. The words were barely a whisper. She hit redial for the airline, no flights would be leaving before Monday at present projections. Sage heard the recorded message and checked her wristwatch. That couldn't be correct, it was Wednesday. She changed into something a bit softer and crawled into her favorite baggy sweatshirt.

Sage caught a whiff of the bacon he always added to his mom's soup as she listened to her stomach growl. Wednesday, that meant she last ate on...her mind wandered through the days...last week, Tuesday. Not real food. Just granola bars, nuts, and some stray bits of fruit. Her last real meal was before she left Panama. The growling made her decide to not attempt to pass off the, This has been a crazy week or I grabbed something on the train, thing, besides, there was no way he'd buy it.

She meandered out to the kitchen, he put the bag of groceries away, the bottle of wine sat uncorked with some poured into a glass waiting on her. Nick dished up a couple of bowls; both liberally sprinkled with crumbled bacon.

He learned long ago, a man who can cook has a far better chance of getting laid; he turned it into an art form early on. Warm crusty bread sat on her plate with a good-sized nob of butter. In the kitchen light, he got a better view of her face. Along with the bruise on her jaw, it looked like she had something at the corner of her eye and another spot at her temple. His jaw clenched as once again he vowed to choke someone to death after he pummeled them until his knuckles were mush. They may be done and over but that didn't change anything.

Nick didn’t mention her attempt to chew and move the bite to the un-bruised side. Something about her made him alternate between wanting to be her knight in shining armor or throwing his hands in the air and running away. They were always either steaming hot or polar and now they were just...just what? He couldn't decide. It wasn't going through the motions, it wasn't a lot of things—however, it was, most definitely frustrating. When they walked away from each other eighteen months ago he swore that was it. Over. Done. Finished. All it took was seeing her bruised, afraid, obviously in trouble, and he knew that was a lie. They would never be done, not for him.

So good. She dipped the bread in the soup again, knowing he had been lost in thought.

Yep. Always is. She's amazing. Nick tried to read her demeanor and got nothing.

Sage's head bobbed in agreement, She's like a kitchen fairy godmother.

Her voice was off; he noticed the raspier quality to it now, like when she screamed too much at a ball game, they went to ten years before. 

Are you okay? You look tired. Nick tried to not be so intense he made her back off or too caring which would have the same effect.

Yeah. It’s been a long week. She scrolled through her messages and dropped the phone back on the counter.

So, how's the job?

Her head came up a little too fast. This week, it sucked ass. Big ass. He understood that.

You know what they say. His head tipped as he shot her a half-grin.

Yep, embrace the suck and at this moment, I am about to squeeze it to death.

She finished off the soup and poured more wine into her glass. Sage eased off the stool and stopped in the doorway, Thank you, delicious as always, she limped off toward the room she chose.

Nick cleaned up the kitchen, tuned into a hockey game from the west coast, and stood at the window overlooking Sixth Avenue. Snow began piling up, meaning the predictions for the triple blast storms were probably going to be right this time. Normally he would have put on the act, wooed her some, the one more time for old times, for fun. He shook his head trying to clear the numerous images locked in his mind of her decorating his bed. Their bed.

He hit the switch for the lights and activated the alarm before heading for the shower. Nick never made it further than the master bedroom before his phone buzzed. Without bothering to look he answered, Avery. The chuckle at the other end was attached to a guy from his unit, Chase Peterson.

Yo man, something ran past us today. I'm sending you a file.

I thought I was O.O.C. He pulled his laptop out and flipped it open. 

"Yeah, well...you know how they say everyone