Contemporary Erotic Romance/68,000 Words

Kings of Guardian (Book 4)

Jason King was presented the opportunity of a lifetime: assume control of Guardian Security from the billionaire who had built the world-renowned agency. As CEO, Jason would manage the best security resources in the world. Former SEALs, Rangers, Recon, Green Berets, agents from every alphabet agency in the nation, not to mention law enforcement stand outs, flocked to the organization he’d control. 

But the offer came with a painful stipulation. Jason King must lay to rest the demons haunting him.

Faith Collins' stepbrother rescued her and her infant son from a hideous life, then died overseas in a black ops mission gone tragically wrong. Faith knew how to pick up and go on when things got bad. So she'd made peace with losing him—until Jason King arrived. 

Neither expected their meeting would tilt the world on its axis— and offer them the solace they both desperately craved.


Other Books by Kris


Excerpt

Almost three years ago…

A violent explosion rocked the plane. The cold, hard steel of the aircraft’s superstructure bitch-slapped the side of his face. The unexpected and brutal violence stunned Jason King momentarily. Then reality hit just as hard as the C-17’s damn bulkhead. They were going down. “Get up! Now! Move it! Sound off!”

Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the belt of the smaller man and hauled the C-17 loadmaster off the deck of the cargo bay where the percussive blast of the midair explosion had catapulted him. He did a visual of his men through the smoky haze enveloping the hold. A quick verbal reply by each of his team verified all were up and moving. 

“Check your gear!”

“We’re west of the drop zone, sir!”

Jason roared over the turbulent noise of the wounded aircraft. “Get everyone hooked to the line! Everyone on the line! Hook up!”
He turned to the loadmaster. “Get your parachute on and open that damn door!”

“Sir! We can make it!”

“We have a mission! Open that fucking door!” Jason clipped his cord to the line behind his men and glared over his shoulder. “Open it!”
The loadmaster popped the jump door and shook his head, pleading,
“Sir, we’re too low!”

Jason slapped the control light above the loadmaster’s head. “Go! Go! Go!” 

The violent lurching of the disabled aircraft flipped two of his men into the fuselage. Jason braced himself and peeled their asses off the metal, almost throwing them out of the open jump door. He looked over his shoulder at the loadmaster, silently begging him to get his parachute on. The man shook his head. So be it. Jason jumped after his men. The parachutes in front of him drifted to the west, and he followed suit, using hand controls to angle his decent. The aircraft was no longer in sight. The black night had enveloped the falling Guardian transport. 

The distant, yet distinct, popping sound of gunfire reached him through the rush of the wind. His training kicked in and he sharply diverted his angle of descent, watching as the others also moved away from the intended landing zone. An explosion lit up the canopy of trees Jason was headed toward. The C-17’s impact with the ground erupted, shedding an orange-hued light through an opening in the treetops. The speed with which he was falling didn’t allow for much correction, but Jason attempted to maneuver to his left. 

He pulled his legs up and tucked them tight, anticipating the collision. Tree limbs slammed his falling body from one branch to another like a human pinball. The plummet to earth didn’t allow Jason to do anything except suck it up and roll on impact. The ground was an unforgiving bitch and every muscle in his body screamed objections at the brutal landing. But he was down, currently alive, and smack-motherfucking-dab in the middle of a hostile landing zone. He lost the chute, pulled out his compass, oriented his position and shot an azimuth toward the predetermined meeting point. Time to find his team.