Wounded warrior Travis Quinn, battles against memory loss and time to locate the mother of his unborn child, Mara Escareno, when she is kidnapped and sold into the dark and dangerous world of human trafficking.
Fans of Kaylea Cross, Cristin Harber, and Lynn Rae Harris will enjoy the dark, emotional and sexy third book in the Hornet series by Tonya Burrows.
Ice-cold and unbreakable, Travis Quinn is the HORNET team’s hard-ass. No weaknesses. Except, of course, for the accident that not only destroyed his career as a Navy SEAL, but left terrifying blanks in his memory. But Travis remembers everything about Mara Escareno—the curve of her lips, the feel of her body…and how he walked out on her suddenly six weeks ago.
Mara could never resist the dangerously sexy Travis, which is probably how she ended up pregnant and disowned by her family. But before Travis can fully process the news, Mara is kidnapped by his enemies and plunged into the violent, merciless world of human trafficking. They want Travis—and the information locked within his damaged memory—no matter the cost. And now Travis’s enemies have discovered his only weakness…Mara.
Time to take a breath.
My favorite part about writing the HORNET books is the bro-banter between the guys on the team, so I wanted to share with you one of my favorite moments in Broken Honor. They all finally have a moment to breathe after stopping the bad guys (or so they think) and rescuing the heroine Mara, so of course they’re going to start giving each other crap. These quick little moments of banter are so much fun to write and, I think, really bring the guys to life.
Without the winter sun’s meager rays and no cloud cover to speak of, the night’s temp plummeted from cold to freeze your balls off. When Quinn slid from driver’s side of the van, the cold ripped the air from his lungs like a punch to the gut and seared the insides of his nostrils.
He’d considered abandoning the van here and humping it the rest of the way to the plane, but no way would he make Mara stay out in this weather for any extended period of time. She didn’t have the right gear, they were still a good ten klicks from the plane, and it’d take far too long to make that walk on foot.
Not to mention, the closer they got to the Transnistria- Ukraine border, the more warning alarms clanged inside his mind.
He rubbed his temple, only now realizing how much his fucking head hurt. The strain of the last few days was taking its toll. He’d be lucky if he didn’t crash and burn before the end of this mission. “Something’s wrong.”
Gabe, in the passenger seat, glanced over the center console at him. “You okay?”
“Headache. But that’s not what I mean. Garcia should have answered our radio calls by now.”
Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the van. “Go check on Mara—I know you want to, so don’t deny it—and see if any of the guys are injured. I’ll try Garcia again.”
Quinn shut the door and walked the length of the vehicle, boots crunching over the ground, too loud in the winter night. Damn snow. It made staying covert difficult. Might as well wave a giant red flag and scream, “Here we are!” Of course, that worked both ways, and the woods surrounding the rarely used road were silent.
They were safe. For now.
He joined the guys, who spilled out of the van’s back end like clowns from a subcompact. “Anyone injured?”
“Had worse,” Seth said.
Quinn studied each of them as they exited the van. Seth had a wide streak of blood smeared on his coat under his left arm, but whether it belonged to him or one of Zaryanko’s dead thugs was anyone’s guess. Everyone else seemed no worse for wear, except for Jean-Luc, who scowled as if someone had pissed in his cornflakes.
“You hurt?” Quinn asked.
“No. But I’m freezing to death. This cold is ungodly.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stomped his feet a couple times, but if anything, the crunching of his boots on the snow only made him look more unhappy.
“Get over it.” Ian blew on the ends of his fingers. He always cut off the tips of his gloves, leaving his fingers free so that he could handle sensitive items—like bombs. Everything the EOD tech did, in some way, shape, or form, related back to making things go boom. “We’re all cold.”
Gabe joined them. “Not everywhere can be like the bayou, Cajun.”
“And that’s a damn shame,” Jean-Luc said and his breath clouded in the air. “See? Look at that! I’m making freaking clouds. That’s not natural. I’m telling ya. Ungodly.”
Jesse was the last to leave the van. He hopped out, took off his Stetson, ran a hand through his hair, then resettled the hat on his head. He’d taken off his snowsuit and wore nothing but black cargo pants and a denim jacket over a thermal undershirt.
“Aw, c’mon. This ain’t nothin’ but T-shirt weather, Cajun.”
If looks could kill, Jesse would have died in a hundred brutal ways from the glare Jean-Luc sent him.
Quinn had to admit Jean-Luc had a point. The temperature hovered somewhere in the single digits if he had to guess. Add in the wind chill and it made for a wicked shock to the system, even for someone as hardened against the cold as him.
Was Mara warm enough?
He stole a glance inside the van. She lay on a pallet underneath a survival blanket, curled around her belly like she was trying to protect it. So deep asleep she didn’t even twitch at the cold seeping in from the open door.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he glanced over in surprise at Jesse.
“She’s goin’ to be fine,” the medic assured. “She’s healthy. Best I can tell, the baby’s healthy.”
Right. Okay. Quinn shrugged out of Jesse’s grip and shut the van’s door to keep the heat inside. He turned to the group. “Has anyone had luck raising Garcia on the radio?”
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About Tonya Burrows
Tonya Burrows wrote her first romance in 8th grade and hasn’t put down her pen since. Originally from a small town in Western New York, she’s currently soaking up the sun as a Florida girl. She suffers from a bad case of wanderlust and usually ends up moving someplace new every few years. Luckily, her two dogs and ginormous cat are excellent travel buddies.
When she’s not writing about hunky military heroes, Tonya can be found at a bookstore or the dog park. She also enjoys painting, watching movies, and her daily barre workouts. A geek at heart, she pledges her TV fandom to Supernatural and Dr. Who.