New Release | A Soldier's Honor by Evelyn Timidaiski and @WildRosePress #romanticsuspense #milit


Title A Soldier’s Honor

Author Evelyn Timidaiski

Genre Romantic Suspense

Publisher The Wild Rose Press

Book Blurb

A botched rescue operation leaves Navy SEAL, Brandon Falcon, one chance to salvage his good name: rescue a medical missionary from rebel forces, drag her kicking and screaming through the jungle to the extraction point, and search for his best friend who went MIA during the last mission. Dr. Mira Phelps has one goal—discover a way to help children maimed by war. She sneaks into Honduras following a coup… She's desperate to find the Blue Spider Orchid, purported to have miraculous healing powers. The brawny SEAL who rescues her is ready to leave the country, quickly— she must convince him to help her find the life-saving orchid.

Pitted against desperate men, unable to trust anyone, the red-hot passion sparking between Mira and Brandon threatens to bring them to an explosive end--before they discover a lasting love.

Excerpt

El Liano, Honduras, 1100 Hours, Zulu

An engine, low and growling, clawed its way up

the steep incline. Moments later, a truck painted

military green crested the hill. He rechecked the

settings on his Recon rifle, rotated his head once, and

exhaled through pursed lips. He took aim with his high-powered

scope and fired. Crimson bloomed across the

forehead of the driver as the shattered windshield fell

inward. The hapless soldier crumpled against the

steering wheel, his head twisted at a grotesque angle.

After the truck left the track and crashed into a tree,

a soldier armed with an AK-47 flung open the

passenger door. Brandon’s shot hit him between the

eyes before his feet hit the ground. Flaps at the back of

the truck flipped up; three more soldiers burst from the

vehicle, immediately laying down ground fire. Taking

his time, Brandon picked off each with three efficient

shots before he approached the truck.

His gaze darted everywhere as he ran fast and low

to the vehicle. Mere seconds passed, long enough to

check each of the fallen soldiers. He dropped to the

ground and belly crawled beneath the vehicle.

The engine ticked. Hot oil from the ruptured pan

dripped over his hand as he placed the C-4 charge on

the axle, and then crept to the back of the truck. Rifle

ready, he crawled out and cautiously peered into the

darkened truck bed.

The package.

A ratty blanket, tied with knotted rope, hid

everything except a blonde curl and patch of white

forehead. His gut clenched. The truck rocked beneath

his weight as he climbed in and lightly touched the

wrapped body. She didn’t move. Before the raw pain of

another failed mission tied him into knots, he grabbed

the blanket-shrouded form, threw it over his shoulder

fireman style, and exited the truck.

“Please, be alive,” he prayed as he sprinted for the

cover of the jungle.

He was rewarded by a moan from the tightly

wrapped blanket.

Good, she was alive. Now to make sure they both

stayed that way. He ran toward the mountains. Without

slowing his pace, he activated the remote detonator.

The truck exploded, drowning out the jungle sounds

around him. The explosion bought him a few minutes

head start.

Thunder vibrated the air around him; the heavens

opened, and torrents of rain forced him to slow his

pace. He welcomed the deluge. The downpour would

wash away his tracks. The soldiers would pursue, and

he couldn’t outrun them. He’d have to hide—couldn’t

risk a stray bullet hitting the doctor. Ahead, the roar of

a swollen stream rose louder than the noise of the rain.

He slid through a cluster of shrubs, slipped into the

water, and dug in against the bank.

****

Icy waves washed over Mira’s body, shocking her

awake. Drums pounded in her head. The bitter taste of

fear burned in her mouth. Gasping, her mind foggy, she

tried to remember. The clinic—the rebels. As panic

seized her, she struggled against the rough ropes

binding her.

Her body yanked against something solid. No, not

something, someone. Why was someone holding her in

the water? Adrenaline surged through her veins,

burning a pathway to her brain.

Drowning was her biggest fear. Dear God, how had

they known? She had to fight. She expended the last of

her strength, arched her body backwards, and freed a

small part of her face from the blanket folds. Fresh air

sucked in through her lips, ready to fuel her scream.

A large hand clamped over her mouth, stifled her

scream. She bit down hard on the flesh covering her

face and tasted blood for her efforts.

A muffled curse rumbled. “Jesus…”

Good, she’d hurt back.

The raspy voice whispered close to her ear. “Make

a sound, and we’re both dead.”

Her drugged mind fought for clarity. She didn’t

think she recognized the voice from the clinic.

Squirming, she struggled to get out of the folds of the

blanket.

Wait, her foggy brain whispered. He’d spoken in

English!

“Shh. Be still. I’m trying to help you.”

Even through the rough fabric of the blanket, his

breath smelled clean. No whiskey or rank cigar

smoke—like the others. “Who…?”

“There’s no time. Stay quiet. The rebels are right

behind us.”

The message and its urgency penetrated the blanket

and cleared some part of her brain. They were in

danger, and she couldn’t risk more questions. She

leaned in, tired of fighting.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

“Rápidamente…”

The hissed order to fan out and search the

underbrush came from a few feet away. Had he left

tracks? No, he’d been careful, and the rain would have

washed away any evidence. The footsteps shuffled in

his direction.

“Ma’am,” he warned, “we’re going under water.

Take a deep breath and hold it.”

“No, please, I can’t.”

Brandon stared intently into her eyes. “There’s no

other way.” She looked like a frightened animal, afraid

to run and more afraid to remain. He put pressure on

her shoulders, willing her to comply. She was clearly

scared to death but gave him a slight nod.

“Now,” he whispered.