Double Trouble: Barefoot Bay: Hard Target, #1.5

A Message from Roxanne St. Claire

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Barefoot Bay World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Double Trouble. This book is entirely the work of author Silver James, a talented writer I handpicked to write in the world of Barefoot Bay.

Silver and I go way back, as she’s been a fan of my books long before she started publishing her own. She loves romantic suspense and has the impressive background to carry it off with style. This one has pulse-pounding action, heart-wrenching emotion, and a military hero who insists on being in charge...in and out of the bedroom! Enjoy!

Roxanne St. Claire

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Barefoot Bay Series

www.roxannestclaire.com

Dedication

Here’s to all the Book Boyfriends and the Readers who fall in love with them!

Psst. Rocki’s Gabe Rossi has been one of my BBFs since he first appeared in the pages of her books. This one’s for him.

Acknowledgements

Writing is the one profession where the voices in my head mean I’m not totally batshit crazy when I talk back to them. I love my voices, even when they argue with me. Which they do. Way more than they should. Silly buggers.

A very special thank you to Roxanne St. Claire for inviting me to walk on the beach at Barefoot Bay. I’ve long been a fan of her books and now I get to play in the amazing world she’s created.

As always, many thanks to my readers, the FB crew at Silver James: For Readers, friends, and my family. Y’all are the reason I keep writing the stories in my head.

I truly appreciate the help I receive from my beta reader Siobhan, and cover artist Clary for the many do-overs until we get things right. I couldn’t write anything remotely military without the help and guidance of my wonderful husband aka Lawyer Guy. Last but definitely not least, I want to recognize the fans of each of my series. Each email, comment, tweet, and visit to my website convinces me that the Wolves, Nightriders, Hard Target Team, denizens of the Penumbra Papers and the Red Dirt Royalty boys all deserve to see the light of day.

One last caveat: Any and all mistakes are my own.

Prologue

THINKING ABOUT the gravy he would make when he got home to Barefoot Bay, Nino Rossi strolled out of the grocery store in Naples and walked straight into chaos. Diapers and baby formula spilled from a plastic sack near his feet and a frantic woman, a baby on her hip, was screaming and chasing after a man running away with a second baby. He darted forward without thinking.

Stop! the woman cried. "Someone stop him. He has my baby daughter. My daughter!"

The thug, wearing aviator glasses and a leather jacket, despite the warm weather, stopped. Half turning to face the woman, his gaze bounced from the infant he held to the one in the woman’s arms. Then he appeared to realize people were gathering. Someone yelled, I called 9-1-1. Sirens sounded in the distance. The guy panicked, tossed the baby, and took off running.

Nino dropped the bags dangling from his hands and stretched out his arms. He thanked all the angels when he caught the flying infant in his large, capable hands. People surged around him but he had eyes for only one face—the young mother with tear-stained cheeks reaching for her child. He relinquished the little girl and almost immediately lost sight of the mother as people milled about congratulating him.

When the police arrived and began sorting out eye-witness accounts, they discovered the mother and babies had disappeared. Nino noticed the trampled groceries—the pitifully small pack of diapers and the demolished box of powdered milk. And he worried.

Chapter 1

GABE ROSSI looked up from the open file on his desk, shifting gears from the intel he’d just printed out from his computer to focus on what his grandfather was saying. Nino Rossi hadn’t knocked, instead barging in to interrupt, talking a mile a minute and waving his hands. It took Gabe a few sentences to catch up.

She has two babies and something bad follows her, Gabriel.

His brain circled the drain in a futile attempt to follow his grandfather’s stream of conversation. Who, Uncle Nino?

The girl. The one at the store with the babies. I told you about what happened. The old man was noticeably agitated.

Thinking hard, Gabe sorted through recent conversations then remembered. He’d asked Luke McBain, the resort’s chief of security, to check with the police only because Nino had been involved—and persistent. The police wrote it off as a simple domestic—not that any domestic was simple—and since all parties had disappeared, they dropped the investigation. The incident happened in Naples, so it didn’t affect Mimosa Key, Casa Blanca Resort, or Gabe. He hoped.

Why are you bringing this back up, Uncle Nino?

Because I found her. She needs our help. That man...he’s not the only one after her.

And you know this how?

The old man patted his chest with a huge hand. "I know it here. You did not see her, Gabriel. She needs our special help."

Rubbing his eyes, he reined in his temper. The last thing he needed was some woman preying on Uncle Nino’s soft side—or to take on charity cases. He ran a costly and serious relocation business not Witness Protection R Us.

You will talk to her. Get her story. His grandfather was adamant as he waved toward the outer office.

Gabe leaned around the older man to glance out the door. A woman of about 25 stood in the reception area juggling two babies. One was fussy and she murmured in what was most likely an Eastern European language. He wished his favorite translator was around to help out since he did not want this shit on his plate right now. Gazing at his desk hoping to find a measure of patience hiding amidst the scattered papers, a photo in the file caught his attention. He stared at it then eyed the woman again.

She is a mother, Uncle Nino continued, insistent. She does what a mother does to protect her babies. She needs us.

Movement outside the window snagged his attention and Gabe glimpsed a reminder of the lengths a mother would go to in order to protect her child. Nino prepared to launch another entreaty but Gabe held up his hand. Hang on, Uncle Nino. Returning his attention to the information he’d downloaded and printed, he scanned the page. He was pretty sure the woman in the bulletin was the same one standing in his outer office.

REWARD: ONE MILLION DOLLARS

That alone was enough to make a guy sit up and notice, but it was the name of the man offering the reward for the capture of a runaway nanny and safe return of her charge—singular, not double. Theodor Vasile. The Romanian businessman had been on a lot of watch lists over the years and was currently living the high life in Boston. The downloaded flyer claimed the nanny had abducted Vasile’s son. Only Vasile had no wife. Had never been married. Where did he get a son? Gabe’s radar was pinging like bats in a shit storm.

The woman’s head came up, her deer-in-headlights gaze colliding with Gabe’s. Haunted eyes. And fear. Unadultered and paralyzing. She backed up, recognizing a predator when she saw one, but apparently, she’d never learned running only triggered a hunting response. Against his better instincts, but knowing he could do nothing else, he agreed. Sort of.

Fine. We’ll put her in the villa until I can figure out what her deal is, Uncle Nino. If she really is in trouble, I’ll make arrangements to get her somewhere safe.

You are a good boy, Gabriel.

Uncle Nino all but danced on his way out of the office while Gabe reached for the phone. It was time to call in a favor. Or ten.

WHEN HIS cell phone rang, Nicholas Karras didn’t recognize the number—which put him on alert. He swiveled away from the bar and answered.

Yeah?

Karras?

Talk about a blast from the past. This was a voice he’d never forget. Rossi?

Yeah. Can you talk?

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the men hanging out in the bar. Everyone sitting around him and the hulking guy standing behind it watched him. Sort of.

Then listen. You still on Key West?

Yup. And how the hell did his caller know that?

I’m— Voices interrupted Gabe Rossi, black ops operator extraordinaire, and a man Nick had crossed paths with several times.

He concentrated, listening to the muffled conversation. Two voices—one with hints of the Mediterranean and the other with the lilt of the Caribbean.

Give me a damn minute, Uncle Nino. Gabe’s voice ghosted through Nick’s cell phone. Yeah, yeah, Poppy. Money in the effing jar. I think you and Uncle Nino irritate me just so you can get more cash outta me. I’m gonna end up sending all the damn church boys to college. Now get the hell out of my office so I can set this up. A deep breath and then Gabe’s voice in his ear again. Karras? I’m calling in one of those favors you owe me.

Oh, yeah. He owed Gabe Rossi a lifetime of favors. When he’d crashed a plane in the Afghani desert, Gabe appeared out of the dark, rescued him, and got him back to an American unit in one piece. It wasn’t the only time the black ops specialist had pulled Nick’s butt out of the fire.

Do you know where Bareass...er...Barefoot Bay is?

Nick pulled up a mental map of Florida. Mimosa Key? Off-shore from Naples, right?

You have a reservation starting tonight at the Casa Blanca Resort and Spa. Tag me at this number when you check in.

Before he could agree, the owner of the bar appeared in front of him, hands on her ample hips, her expression dubious. She wore her I’m serious face. The woman wrangled the ragtag band of misfits who inhabited her place and they all called her Mother. Who are you talking to?

Gabe from Bareass Bay, Nick replied with a straight face.

Mother snorted and snatched the phone from his hand, clicking the speaker button as she did. Who is this?

Gabe from Bareass Bay. Rossi replied, his voice deadpan.

Well, what are you wearing, Gabe from Bareass Bay?

Um...khakis?

You can’t fool me, Gabe Rossi. Why are you calling one of my customers?

Oh, hi, Mother. I’m fine, thanks. How the fu-hell are you? Gabe’s snarky greeting should not have surprised Nick, but it did.

Answer my question, boy.

Nick chewed the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. This lady had to be the only person in the world who could get away with calling Gabe Rossi boy.

I need to borrow Karras.

Fine. But if you get him killed, no more bar tabs for you.

"I only need him for a couple of days, but if something hot