Emilie Rose - A Better Man

Time to show them what he’s made of

Roth Sterling is a straight shooter, a guy you want on your side. As a soldier, he defended his country. As a cop, he upholds the law. For a kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, he’s done well for himself. Now he’s back in his hometown, only this time, he’s the new police chief.

He’s in for a few surprises, however. Piper Hamilton—the girl he loved—still has the power to move him. And they are tied together thanks to the son he didn’t know he had. Roth is determined to do right by Piper, whatever it takes. Even if it means becoming the one thing he never thought to be—a family man.

Roth had loved Piper

More than he’d ever loved anyone. And yet he’d hurt her. Deliberately. Not with his fists—his father’s modus operandi—but with his actions, his words.

Through sheer willpower he lowered his hand even though every cell in his body urged him to wrap Piper in his arms, to take her mouth, to lose himself inside her body and let her inflame him. Let her soothe him.

Piper had always been able to take away the ugliness of his life with her sweet smiles, her gentle touch, her sexy-as-hell laugh and her belief that he was a better man than his father. Being with her had made him feel whole, complete, normal. Too bad he hadn’t been able to return the favor.

He took a backward step before he forgot what was good for him. And her. Before he forgot his fragile promise to keep his distance and do the right thing by her.

He had a plan. He just had to find the fortitude to stick to it.

No matter the temptation.

And, damn, it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as he’d thought it would be.

Dear Reader,

I love it when research for a book takes me to a new place. For Roth Sterling’s story I made multiple trips to Quantico, Virginia, the marine base featured in so many novels, movies and TV shows. The base is home to one of the scout sniper schools, and it was nothing like I expected. Yes, Quantico contains all the official buildings and military supply stores and training grounds I’ve read about, but that’s where my preconceptions ended.

The first thing you’ll notice when you roll through Quantico’s front gate is the lush forest surrounding you. The Potomac River winds through the landscape and the curving road takes you past several beautiful postcard-worthy vistas. Lily pads float in small coves and ponds. Deer, groundhogs and other critters I can’t name are as plentiful and nearly as bold as the marines who work and train there. The animals don’t flinch as explosions of C-4, bangalore torpedoes and machine-gun fire rent the air. Deer are reported to graze near the targets on the FBI shooting range and duck fill the river and creeks.

Quantico contains a golf course, numerous neighborhoods and multiple elementary schools. Quantico, referred to as “The Beast,” is both a serene paradise (to this untrained eye) and the training ground of some of this country’s bravest warriors. The contradictions blew me away and guaranteed I’d make a return trip to see what other surprises the base has in store.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose

P.S. I love to hear from readers! Contact me through my website at www.emilierose.com.

A Better Man

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bestselling Harlequin author and RITA® Award finalist Emilie Rose lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list,” which includes learning to ride a Harley. This is her first Harlequin Superromance book. Visit her website, www.emilierose.com, or email her at EmilieRoseC@aol.com. Letters can be mailed to P.O. Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619.

To the men and women who serve our country,

allowing us the freedom to read and write what we choose.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

ROTH STERLING HAD sworn he’d never set foot in the godforsaken hellhole of Quincey, North Carolina, again. But twelve years after his escape, here he stood, eating those bitter words.

The town held too many memories. Most of them bad. But what choice did he have with his murderous bastard of a father due to be paroled from prison in two months?

He opened the door of his new apartment, stepped inside and shoved the key into his pocket. He had limited time to convince his mother not to allow the animal who’d beaten her for fifteen years back into her life. Better yet, Roth would persuade her to divorce the man and take out a restraining order. But even if she did, could the town’s five-officer team enforce it?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Restraining orders tended to be useless if the one being restrained chose to ignore them. He’d seen enough domestic abuse cases end badly during his time with the Charlotte Police Department to know the statistics. They weren’t good.

He’d spoken to his father only twice in the past seventeen years, most recently when his father had announced that he and Roth’s mother were going to move into their old house in Quincey.

Roth’s father had filled his ears with a load of rehabilitated, remorseful, I’ve-been-saved crap, and Roth hadn’t believed one word of it. The old man still had an evil glint in his eyes—the same glint Roth had often seen as a kid right before dear ole dad knocked him senseless. But Roth’s pleas to the parole board to keep his father behind bars had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d had to change tactics.

His parents’ return to Quincey was forcing Roth to do the same. Temporarily. Quincey’s advertisement for a police chief had provided a perfect cover. As the newly appointed chief, Roth would be in a position to insure that if his father laid a hand on Roth’s mother—or anyone else—he’d pay. Roth hadn’t been able to protect her when he’d been a kid, but he could now. He rested his right hand on the butt of his Glock. With lethal force, if necessary.

History wasn’t going to repeat itself. Not on his watch.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out the stiffness, then strolled through the den, kitchen and each of the two bedrooms, noting the age and wear of Quincey’s only apartment building.

A fresh coat of off-white paint on the walls couldn’t compensate for the scarred hardwood floors, worn linoleum and old cabinetry. The place was clean, but it was a far cry from his condominium in the gated complex in Charlotte, with its clubhouse, gym, pool and hot tub, but these digs would suffice.

He wasn’t crazy about being on the ground floor. It made unlawful entry too easy. The sliding glass door onto the small patio could be a problem. He registered the inadequate locks on the doors and windows and the nooks and crannies where a perp could hide. He’d have to hit the hardware store before it closed if he wanted to beef up his security. Quincey used to roll up the sidewalks at dark. Did they still?

He returned to the living room and glanced out at his loaded-down Chevy truck and the rented U-Haul trailer parked by the curb. In the olden days his buddies would have shown up before his tires cooled to help him unload, but he’d seen no sign of Chuck, Joe or Billy since arriving an hour ago. At three on a Thursday afternoon they might be at work. He hadn’t notified them of his arrival. He’d counted on the Quincey rumor mill doing the job for him. No doubt the phone lines had started humming the minute he’d signed his contract last month.