EPILOGUE

AIDAN

Three Months Later

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W aiting wasn’t the hardest part.

Briar’s mother was.

The last three months have been difficult. Between all the legal bullshit annulling Briar’s marriage to Kael, aka Johnny Trevis, and me wanting her to move in immediately, we’ve had a few disagreements.

“I need space,” Briar said after we returned to our lives.

“Then sit out in the yard. It’s massive,” I replied, pointing outside while we were debating it one night.

“You don’t get it.” She nudged me.

“What I get, my beautiful fiancé, is that you are mine and I want you here every day and every night.” I scooped her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist.

“I’m not ready,” she said, playing with my hair. “Give me some time.”

“I’ve waited ten fucking years, Briar. Don’t ask me to wait any longer.”

There was a part of me that hadn’t released all my fury about our past and how we’d been kept apart.

I was mad.

I didn’t want to wait any longer.

“You need time, too,” Briar said, looking me right in the eye. “If this is going to work, we need to make sure we are both in the right place. I love you. I know you love me.”

“If you don’t, I’ll tell you ten times a day,” I’d said.

“You do, baby.”

I’d huffed because...yeah, I did.

“Fine, but you’re having private security until you move in with me,” I’d stated.

This was my compromise.

“Ugh. I might love you, but you are a pain in my ass, Aidan Black.” She’d flung her head back.

I grinned. Then sucked on her neck, leaving a beautiful mark for all the world to see.

Marking Briar was my favorite thing.

Just ask her inner thighs.

Three weeks later, she moved in and I’m not sorry for wearing her down.

Ten years and three weeks.

Or something approximate to that.

But that was after we’d had dinner with her mother at her house.

“Oh, are you back to threaten me again, Aidan Black?” Mrs. Sutton asked, crossing her arms.

I closed the front door behind me.

“Nope, just wanting to show you the engagement ring on Briar’s hand.”

“Aidan!” My beautiful fiancé slapped my chest. “We had a plan.”

And no, I will never stop referring to her as that. Until she’s my wife, that is.

I shrugged. It was a change of plans...and her mother pissed me right off just by breathing.

“You are not marrying him!” She’d cried as I smirked directly at her unapologetically.

“Yeah, Mom, I am,” Briar replied, not leaving my side.

My gaze shifted when I lifted my head, and I shot her mother a threatening glance and meant every single part of it.

She clamped her mouth shut.

“I love him. And Aidan loves me. I am going to marry him and”—she glanced up at me with eyes filled with adoration and I nearly fucking melted— “we’re going to have beautiful little babies.”

I leaned down and kissed her.

Because how could I not?

Plus, it aggravated her mother.

“You are barely sorting out the legalities with Kael. Or this Johnny Trevis.”

Oh, they were being sorted. I was pulling strings.

The hard part was accepting that Briar was grieving for him when all I wanted to do was put a bullet in his skull.

“We’re going to wait a year, but I’m moving in with Aidan and you have to accept it.” Briar had pressed her body into mine.

I’m here, sweetheart.

Always.

“Dear god. Your father will be turning in his grave.” She cried, shooting me a dark look.

“Mom, please.” Briar cried, getting upset.

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it still grated at my nerves seeing her manipulate her daughter.

The right thing would have been to let Briar fight her mother, learning to stand up for herself, but I’m a protector and she’d done pretty damn well already.

It would take her time.

She’d committed to me, and I was going to help her grow into the new person she was.

Strong and with clear boundaries. Even from me.

“Accept it or we will leave,” I said, looping my arm around Briar’s waist. “We are getting married, and you know damn well I’m not the man responsible for your husband’s death or any of the pain both of you have suffered. None of it.”

Silence.

“He’s not, Mom,” Briar said softly.

Her mother just looked broken. Then she did something that surprised me. She started nodding. First while looking at the floor and then she glanced up at us as we stood in the entranceway.

I saw the love she had for her daughter as she fought to accept the situation. If she didn’t move forward with us, she would lose Briar.

Completely.

“Then I guess you better both come in properly, and I’ll make some tea,” Mrs. Sutton said, standing and straightening her dress.

We were both so shocked we stood there in silence for a moment. Then I patted Briar’s hip.

“I’ll have coffee,” I said.

Today, her mother and I tolerate one another, but she’s now got a really good reason to forgive me and move on.

Well, two reasons.

“Ugh, I don’t know. Cream. Yellow. I hate both.” Briar groans as she stands in the spare room we have cleared out.

I lean against the doorjamb. “Then let’s find out the sex. Of both of them.”

“No. I want it to be a surprise!” she says, rubbing her stomach.

It’s barely a bump.

Two bumps.

We’re having twins!

We’re three months along and stupidly excited to become parents. I’m in no hurry. Seeing Briar carrying my babies is the sexiest thing in the world.

“Then, yellow it is,” I say, walking up behind her and kissing her neck.

“I swear we are going to have triplets if we keep having this much sex.” Briar giggles as I slide my hand under her dress.

“Then we’ll need a bigger house, because I’m not stopping.” I swoop her up into my arms and carry her through the house.

I’ll have ten babies with this woman if she wants them. More to love.

“Love you so much,” she says, rubbing her fingers through my facial scruff.

“Tell me while you’re screaming.” I wink and kiss her. “And I love you too.”

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Click the title to read Marshall and Trina’s spicy military romance in THE SOLDIER. – the next steamy installment in the Black Hawke series.

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Turn the page to read the book description and get set for another hot read.

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If you love Dark Mafia Romance with a military twist, check out The Darkest King —it’s FREE . Or turn the page to read chapter one !

AUTHOR NOTE

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We touched on some pretty heavy topics in The MARINE and I’m grateful you stayed the course and reached their beautiful happy ever after with me.

I want to reiterate that all my stories come from a mix of imagination and snippets of my life experience and observations. I’ve had a long journey healing my own childhood wounds, but I am not an expert on anyone else’s life or the topic of domestic abuse. If this is something you have, or are, experiencing in your life, I hope Briar’s story inspires and empowers you. Please reach out for help.

Now for Marshall and Trina’s hot romance, THE SOLDIER. This one is going to be scorching! I see a lot of denial in both their futures. Lol.

If you didn’t hear the news, the Black Hawke Security series now has THREE MORE BOOKS! Thank you for loving these characters so I get to keep writing them.

Also, I have a NEW Dark Romance Series coming in 2025, The Dark Alliance! Check out my Facebook Group or join my BookClub to get all the latest news and releases before anyone else! Or you can click on Book One, Ashes of Sin , and preorder today.

Lastly, I just know you will love some Dark Mafia Romance with a military twist. Former US Marines undercover in a dangerous crime world. The Darkest King is FREE so grab that immediately and meet dark and broody Connor Barrett.

Happy reading everyone

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Juliette x

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Shoulder tapped to leave my Special Forces role as a Green Beret, and join Black Hawke Security, I was minding my business one day when Trina Ravenwood walks in... and calls me a toy soldier.

I knew immediately the sexy brunette would be a delicious challenge. All that sass is just a charade and I’m determined to hear her beg.

She will.

Except someone takes her from me and it’s going to take all my skills, and the help of my fellow paramilitary colleagues, to get her back.

When I do, I’m not letting her go.

Even if that means battling all the shadows in her past.

THE SOLDIER is a steamy private security romance with spice and tons of suspense and action. If you love former military and special ops alphas who fall for sassy heroines, then you’ll love the Black Hawke Security series. Each book can be read as a standalone and has a happy ever after.

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DO YOU LOVE DARK MAFIA

ROMANCE WITH A MILITARY TWIST?

Meet Connor and his team of US Marines working in an undercover crime world.

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THE DARKEST KING - FREE!

Book one in The Dark Kings of NYC series

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Connor

Fifteen years ago, a man murdered my family. A mistake he’ll pay for with his life... when I find him. My name is Connor Barrett and I’m the most powerful man in NYC. I fund politicians. I fuck beautiful women. And my enemies don't know my true identity. Yet.

I’ve been single-minded in my revenge until a woman with piercing eyes and sinful curves pours fucking whisky down the front of my Armani tux.

Then, I learn her last name.

I have a decision to make. Use her. Or toss her. But one thing is certain: I’m not keeping her.

Mia

My freedom is hard-fought, but in a few months, my father expects me to start work in the business. No thanks! I’ve spent my life trying to ignore the things my dangerous family does. My father agreed I could have two years to follow my dreams. My time as an event manager is nearly up.

Then Connor Barrett steps into my life and we shake on a partnership I thought would give me wings. Until I realize I’ve made a deal with a devil far more dangerous than my father.

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The Darkest King is the first book in The Dark Kings of NYC, a dark billionaire mafia romance. If you enjoy dark spicy romances with twists, battling mafia families, and dominant, protective heroes, then you’ll love this book. Expect a happy ever after in every book.

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1

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CONNOR

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H ere we fucking go again.

Another gala event. Another speech. Another night spent with strangers who schmooze me for my money and power.

It’s all part of the charade I’m playing , I remind myself, tugging on the sleeve of my Armani jacket and adjusting my cufflinks before leaning back into the soft leather seats of my limousine. Nothing to prepare. My finance manager arranged the transfer of funds this afternoon, and my scriptwriter emailed me the same cut-and-paste version of the speech I’ve already given at least five times this year.

Only the name changes, with a modified reason why the cause is so important to Barrett Enterprises.

Except this one is important to me...personally.

The We Are Family Foundation is committed to the care of orphans in the US and around the world—a cause I deem important. No one should be alone because they don’t have parents or a family.

There are eight fucking billion people on the planet. Few of them with the sort of money I have to contribute, to make a difference. Still, I’d rather have sent a check and sat at home, sipping on my Macallan Gold, watching porn, and jacking off.

Or rather, ordering in.

I don’t mean Chinese food.

Truth is, I don’t watch porn. I have no need for it. If I want a woman spread before me, I can have one at any time.

I’m Connor Barrett, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in New York City.

Yet, I’m not who I say I am.

I’m both a ghost and, ironically, one of the most visible men in America. Why hide in the shadows when you can hide out in the open? The opposite of what they trained me to do in the marines.

Even more ironic—I have skilled security protecting me, which even they know is unnecessary. I’m six-foot four, broad and muscular. And I’ve been trained to kill.

I have killed.

Still, I can’t look over my shoulder while running a billion-dollar empire, doing deals with politicians and untrustworthy businessmen who would love nothing more than to see me fail.

That happens when people owe you favors. They know I’ll come knocking, and when I do, they won’t say no.

No one says no.

I’m the founder and CEO of Barrett Enterprises. Entrepreneur, philanthropist, investor, and prolific businessman.

Men want to destroy me.

Women want to fuck me.

I reach for the crystal cut glass filled with whisky in the console beside me and bring it to my lips, remembering the last woman who slid down my black silk sheets and wrapped her red-stained mouth around my cock.

God, I could do with round two.

It’s been weeks since I’ve had a good release without using my fist. I should’ve booked someone for this evening, but I didn’t think ahead.

Booked? Yes. They’re not prostitutes—I’m paying for their discretion. I’m paying for control.

Something I never give away.

But I’m careful about the women I fuck. By the time they enter my penthouse, they’ve accepted payment and signed a confidentiality agreement—one no lawyer would ever let their client sign—which demands their silence and agreement to the terms of our time together.

One, should they break, that would destroy their lives.

So, not prostitutes, but they are escorts.

They’re instructed to undress and blindfold themselves in my private elevator. I’m not fucking Batman—everyone in NYC knows my address—but it just sets the scene. One which makes it clear why they are here, and that intimacy is not welcome.

I’m not looking for a wife.

I need to stay a ghost.

If my enemies knew I was alive, I would be hunted.

The last words my father said to me... Never tell anyone who you are, son. Run!

The familiar grinding of my teeth, the pain slicing up the back of my neck from my fury, brings me back to the present, and I blink. I stretch one of my legs and check that the knife strapped just above my sock remains invisible. Just as all the other weapons on my body are.

I don’t leave home without them.

“We’re going to be a few minutes late, sir,” Benson, my driver, says. I pulled him out of the military a few years ago. He knows how to scan for bombs, drive if we’re attacked, and protect both of us if shit goes down. “The traffic was built up near Madison Square Gardens.”

I’m silent, my body tensing, and my eyes slide over to Mack.

As if on cue, Mack Turner, my head of security, turns from the passenger seat and gives me a reassuring look. “It’s an accident, Mr. Barrett. Turn up here, Benson. Then take 27 th Street.”

My body relaxes.

Mack is one of three men I trust with my life. He’s by my side ninety percent of the time.

Not when I fuck.

That’s not my kink.

While the We Are Family Foundation is important to me, I don’t give a damn about being on time—I’m the VIP guest, and they’ll wait for me. However, when you’re hiding in broad daylight from the mafia—that’s correct, all the mobsters and cartels—and are as powerful as I am, it would only take two minutes to go from being the hunter to the hunted .

Because I am hunting them.

They just don’t fucking know it.

Glancing at my Rolex, I note I’m ten minutes late. I run my hand over my solid jaw, rubbing my dark scruff. I need to fuck. I’ve been agitated and impatient recently. As a dominant and controlling lover, the act helps me release built-up energy.

I nearly snort at the word love . There’s no love in my life.

“Keep the car close when we arrive, Benson,” I say darkly. “I’m only staying an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the limo pulls up outside the Convention Center, I wait for Mack to open the door, then I climb out and stand, running my hands over my Armani tux and glancing around.

The red carpet is empty. Everyone inside is waiting for me.

In and out. That’s the plan.

“Give Billy the night off tomorrow,” I say to Mack without looking his way. When I take a few steps and he hasn’t responded, I turn.

My dark eyes connect with his.

“You need a new location. It’s not safe, Connor,” Mack replies.

I nod.

He’s not disagreeing with me. No one would. He’ll have his reasons, and I trust him.

“Arrange it,” I say, then step into the hotel lobby. The sign for the event points to the large conference rooms in the back.

To be honest, I’m surprised someone from the company organizing the event is not greeting me. I was told they would. But it’s one less annoying person on this planet to deal with, so I couldn’t care less.

I make my way through the space and find the room and the main door. As I reach for it, it flings open.

Oomph.

“Oh, shit!” the small body who just slammed into me whisper-yells, and the door closes behind her with a click.

Then I feel it...

Wet, cold, and seeping through the front of my tuxedo.

As I grip the petite brunette’s arms and remove her from my chest, her eyes fly open wide, and I can’t ignore the magnetic pull from the crystal blue globes.

Jesus, she’s fucking gorgeous.

My cock wakes up and begins to swell. I imagine gripping all that long dark hair and wrapping it around my fist. Then, as panic fills her eyes, I’m tempted to smirk. But I never smile, and my hands, which have released her, want to touch her again, and that bothers me.

Who is this young woman?

“Connor Barrett,” she gasps quietly, knowing who I am. Her eyes drift down over the dark liquid on my shirt, and she bites her lip, letting out a soft curse. Then those lids dip further down my body.

Don’t look any lower, sweetheart, or...

Too late.

Her eyes shoot back to mine, and I say in a dark, thick voice, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

As she swallows, my lips curl up at the corners.

Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

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THE SEAL - CHAPTER ONE

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JOSH

“J osh, I’ve got Blaze Cartwright on the phone,” my office manager/receptionist/ruler of the universe, Penny, says.

I drop the weight bar with a clang and sit up before reaching for my towel. I notice a few of the team, who are also working out in the Black Hawke gym, glance my way.

“As in the rockstar?” I ask Penny.

“Yup.” She nods.

“Isn’t he retired?” I frown, walking to where my water bottle is and chugging down half of it.

I’m pretty sure people think Navy SEALs are magically chiseled, but that’s so fucking far from the truth I don’t even know where to start. We get our reputation because of the hard work and almost superhuman lengths we had to go through to earn our stripes.

That day was a long time ago, but staying in shape is just as essential since starting Black Hawke Security with Aidan Black, a US Marine.

Hence having a good quality gym in our building in Los Angeles.

“Turn on a radio sometime, Josh.” Ryder laughs as he climbs off the rowing machine and walks over.

I grunt.

I do that a lot. Apparently.

“I have Spotify,” I mutter then drag my eyes back to Penny. “Get a number. Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“I tried that,” she replies, crossing her arms in annoyance.

I swear she’s the only person in the universe who questions me and gives me sass.

The only person I let get away with it.

Maybe because she’s in her seventies and mothers us in a pick your shit up boys or I’ll put it through the shredder kind of way.

It was that or hire someone in her twenties or thirties who would distract my men or be distracted by them.

I’m not stupid. All of them would want to fuck her.

Or just would.

What a disaster that would be.

I’m not interested in female drama of any kind. I fuck them and thank them. Which I think is fair. I don’t want to know about their exes, their family issues, or even how their dog or cat did some cute shit.

Not fucking interested.

I run my towel over my still sweating forehead and ruffle my hair. It’s a little longer than when I was an active SEAL but not long enough so that the dark strands curl.

Annoys the hell out of me when it does that.

“Give him to radio boy here.” I tip my head to Ryder.

“He asked for you. Josh, are you going to take this call or keep Blaze waiting?”

Blaze?

I smirk. “A fan, were you?”

She drops her arms and huffs. “Of course I was. Everyone was. He sold one hundred million records while you were still in diapers.”

Ryder snorts and I shoot him a glare. He holds up his hands, but the smile is still there.

Jesus.

What could a retired—I thought—rock star want me for?

Black Hawke Security, or BHS, is a group of paramilitary experts. We provide services mostly to governments (yes plural) and the rich and famous.

But usually that means a huge name that’s all over TikTok, not some eighties rockstar.

Letting out a sigh, I toss my towel, miss the basket, and follow a muttering Penny out to my office.

“Put him through,” I say, continuing past her to the big office down the end of the hall.

“Put a shirt on!” she calls out.

I shake my head as I shut the door and reach for a black BSE t-shirt and tug it on, covering my offensive looking eight pack and tribal tattoos.

I grab a bottle of electrolytes out of my mini fridge then flop in the big chair behind my desk as the phone rings.

“Josh Hawke,” I answer.

“Mr. Hawke. Blaze Cartwright. I need your help,” he says.

Interesting.

I tap the keyboard to wake up my computer and Google his name.

I know who he is.

I know his music. Everyone does.

Penny wasn’t lying about the one hundred million album sales. Blaze also has one Grammy, and his band Sonic Rebel has three. In fact, I’d argue nearly everyone on the planet knows who Blaze Cartwright, lead singer of Sonic Rebel, is.

The Beatles, Led Zeplin, Aerosmith, Sonic Rebel.

He lost his wife, the love of his life, tragically to cancer two years ago. I knew that, but as I type in his name, I see that he’s come out of retirement after a decade and released a new album.

I read the news.

I don’t need to listen to the radio.

Thanks Ryder, you dick.

Still, I’m confused why he’d be asking for me in person. If he’s wanting to use our bodyguard services, Penny would’ve handed him to Ryder.

Aidan heads up the government contracts. Ryder manages the bodyguard services teams, and me? I look after our corporate clientele—you’d be surprised the interesting needs they have—and the black ops stuff.

Which doesn’t exist.

Off books stuff.

Working with some of the most powerful people in the world. Many of whom also don’t exist.

It’s complicated and better if I don’t explain.

And that you don’t know.

Blaze Cartright is likely one of those precious celebrities who wants to talk to the person whose name is on the door. Or in our case, the website.

Black Hawke Security.

I’m Josh Hawke. A Navy SEAL and dangerous asshole if my former colleagues are to be believed—and they should—and arrogant, if the women I reject at the end of the night are to believed.

Again, they should.

Frankly, I don’t care what people think of me.

My priorities are my elite team of former special ops and fulfilling the contracts which bring in millions (and millions!) of dollars into my company every year. Money aside, we protect the vulnerable and rid the world of evil.

I knew at a certain point in my SEAL career that I could do more out of uniform, but I respect the navy and thank the universe for the opportunity to serve.

Expecting this to be a short conversation and to hand him over to Ryder, I take a sip of my drink and then wipe my mouth. “How can I help you, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Blaze, please.”

“Blaze.”

Jesus, get to the fucking point.

I have a satellite call with the Middle East in twenty minutes and wanted to get in a full workout. That isn’t happening now, so I’ll have to fit in some more reps later tonight.

I might not be in the service anymore, but some days my job can be just as dangerous. Even more so without the backing of the government.

There are pros and cons.

Staying in shape and keeping my fitness at optimal levels keep me alive.

“My daughter’s life is in danger, and I need you to protect her,” he answers.

Fuck no. I’m not a trust fund baby bodyguard.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m offended.

Did he read my bio? I’m a god damn Navy SEAL. Not a mall cop. No offense to mall cops. Someone has to do that shit.

Not me.

And I don’t look after spoiled rich kids.

I’m about to launch into my well-practiced spiel and transfer him to Ryder’s voicemail when he adds, “I’ll pay you triple. It’s just until they get this guy put back in prison.”

I lift my brows slowly.

He’s got my attention. Not because of the money—although the potential for referrals from Cartwright is huge—but I’m curious about who the escaped convict is. Usually, he would be on the BHS radar, and I’ve not heard a thing.

That’s both a concern—because why the fuck don’t we know—and I wonder who and why it’s been covered up.

And why.

“Keep talking,” I say as I change my Google search to find Blaze’s daughter.

“Eleven years ago, when Sonic Rebel was at the height of its success, my daughter Cassy was eighteen. The media took an interest in her and so did Isaac Miller.”

I stare at my screen as Blaze continues talking.

Christ.

I can see why she turned heads.

A young Cassy Cartright stares at me through my laptop screen, and she’s fucking gorgeous. Not just your usual Hollywood gorgeous. She’s naturally beautiful and lean, with long dark wavy hair and startling green eyes surrounded by thick long lashes.

I’m no stranger to beautiful women. Being six four and built like a brick shithouse I draw them to me like magnets. But beauty aside, there’s something about her stopping me from looking away.

Like the Mona fucking Lisa, I can’t put my finger on it.

Is she smirking? Cheeky?

No.

Is she a dirty little girl, hiding behind an innocent charade? I lean in and study her eyes.

No.

But it’s something and it has my cock twitching.

And my mood darkening.

I click my messenger and send Penny an abrupt message asking why we don’t have information about escaped convict Isaac Miller.

Penny replies. Say please.

Fucking hell.

Please GET me the information.

“So,” Blaze says, after wrapping up. “Isaac Miller was convicted and imprisoned for twenty-five years. Three days ago he escaped, and Cassy refuses to listen to me.”

She’s stubborn.

And stupid.

“Listen, how?” I ask.

“She’s going to work and won’t hire a bodyguard,” Blaze said. “I sent a couple of my team over there and she called the police. Had them removed from the premises for trespassing.”

My lips stretch into a smile.

I shouldn’t. It was irresponsible of her, but it still makes me smile.

“He will kill her, Mr. Hawke. I need someone who will not let Cassy run roughshod over them and can keep her alive. You come highly recommended.”

I’m not surprised.

Much of our work comes from repeat business with governments and personal recommendations. Hollywood is a small industry, and because our head office is in Los Angeles and they can afford us, we are their first call.

Given we didn’t exist when Sonic Rebel was one of the biggest bands in the world, it’s no surprise we don’t have their long-term business.

I see this as a potential opportunity to grab it.

And the woman staring back at me looks like a challenge.

I also don’t like men who harm women. I might not have been listening intently to Blaze as he explained what Isaac did, but I heard enough.

“We’ll make sure she’s protected and connect in with law enforcement to see if we can help track him down,” I say.

I won’t guard her myself, but I’ll meet with them and make sure I keep my word that BHS will keep Cassy Cartwright alive.

“Thank you.”

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