Title A Soldier’s Honor
Author Evelyn Timidaiski
Genre Romantic Suspense
Publisher The Wild Rose Press
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
Wait, her foggy brain whispered. He’d spoken in
“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
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.”
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
“Ma’am,” he warned, “we’re going under water.
Take a deep breath and hold it.”