Wild Irish: One Wild Ride (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Omega Team Book 5) Read online

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Maribeth Carmichael. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Wild Irish remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Maribeth Carmichael, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  From Desiree

  People ask me all the time if I always wanted to be a writer. I don’t know if “always” is the word but certainly for all the years I can remember. I was a voracious reader, as were my mother and sister, and books held a royal place in our home. The funny thing is I always thought I would write mysteries because that’s what we all read. I didn’t read my first romance until 2004, when I was sitting with the same three chapters of a mystery on my computer that had been there for three months. But then my eyes were opened and they never closed.

  Submitting that first book was scary, but after a lot of rejections you stop being scared and become determined. I’m glad I never gave up because I am having the most fun in my life I have ever had. (Well, maybe not ever! LOL!) So here I am, with all these titles under my belt.

  Writing a book is a solitary experience, but it never comes to the bookshelves, virtual or other, alone. For me, it starts with my treasured friend and beta reader extraordinaire, Margie Hager, who has the best eagle eye in the world. Thank you, Margie my love, for all the hours you put into helping me bring my stories to life. And for your friendship, which is a highlight of my life. And to Janet Rodman who always looks out for me.

  Then there is my family. Do they read my books? Absolutely not! But they are the best public relations team in the world. From my daughter Amy, who tells all her clients about me, to my son Steve, who makes sure he lets everyone he knows when I have a book released, to my younger daughter Suzanne, who is my good right hand, and my granddaughter Kayla, who is my wonderful left hand. Guys, I could not do it without you. If you see me at a convention, Suzanne will not be far from my side.

  My cats, of course, keep me company while I write. And you all have seen pictures of Bast at the keyboard with me. She thinks she should get co-author credit!

  Thanks to all the people who let me pester them for information on all the different topics I tackle, from SEALs to Force Recon Marines to Delta Force soldiers to the local sheriff to the people at Beretta and the folks at the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo. I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone, and if I have, I am so sorry because the time you continue to give me is very special.

  Last but very far from least are all of you, my wonderful readers, who send me such great emails and posts and are so faithful. A special shoutout to Phuong Phen, Fedora Chen, Shirley Long, and Patricia Sager who have been with me since my journey started and in frustrating times give me the inspiration to push ahead.

  I love you so much. You are my extended family and I send you all many hugs.

  There are a lot more stories to come. Please stay tuned.

  I love to hear from my readers. You can write to me at [email protected] and I hope you will do that.

  Where else can you find me?”

  www.desireeholt.com

  www.desireeholttellsall.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authordesireeholt

  Twitter: @desireeholt

  Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/desiree02holt

  I look forward to hearing from all of you.

  Desiree

  One Wild Ride

  Mary McCoy wanted more than a break from her high pressure job. She wanted to find a hot motorcycle man like the one on the poster in her office. Part of her break from work was finding him. Little did she know that when she took a temp job as a bartender at Pat’s Irish Pub he’d walk in the door and take her breath away.

  Marcus Tyree had left his soul on the war-torn battlefields of the Middle East. Still plagued by nightmares, he takes a job with his friend Grey Holden’s Omega Team agency, searching for drug dealers in the pub, a most unlikely place. And focused on the bartender, a most unlikely person.

  The moment he slides into a stool at the bar, the sparks between them are so vivid they could light up Baltimore’s waterfront. And the motorcycle ride he takes her on is front and center in her erotic dreams. For both of them, this is supposed to be just one wild ride, but life has other plans for them. Until his assignment shatters her belief in him and their happy ending seems to be sliding into a black hole.

  One Wild Ride

  By

  Desiree Holt

  One Wild Ride

  Mary McCoy wanted more than a break from her high-pressure job. She wanted to find a hot motorcycle man like the one on the poster in her office. Part of her break from work was finding him. Little did she know that when she took a temp job as a bartender at Pat’s Irish Pub, he’d walk in the door and take her breath away.

  Marcus Tyree had left his soul on the war-torn battlefields of the Middle East. Still plagued by nightmares, he takes a job with his friend Grey Holden’s Omega Team agency, searching for drug dealers in the pub, a most unlikely place. And focused on the bartender, a most unlikely person.

  The moment he slides onto a stool at the bar, the sparks between them are so vivid they could light up Baltimore’s waterfront. And the motorcycle ride he takes her on is front and center in her erotic dreams. For both of them this is supposed to be just one wild ride, but life has other plans for them. Until his assignment shatters her belief in him and their happy ending seems to be sliding into a black hole.

  Chapter One

  Tuesday nights were usually slow at Pat’s Irish Pub. Wednesday would bring the hump day drinkers—those grateful to have made it to midweek without a huge crisis and those still staving one off. And most weekends would bring entertainment to the tiny stage in the corner. But unless there was a sporting event on television that people could get raucous about, Tuesdays were fairly quiet.

  Tonight had been no exception. Mary McCoy had spent more time polishing glasses, wiping the bar, and straightening bottles than she had serving customers. At the moment, there were two couples, one huddled in a corner booth and the other at a table to the side. And Frank Eglington, a regular at the pub. Mary guessed his age to be about forty. Although he was friendly with everyone, he always seemed to come in alone and preferred to sit by himself at the bar. Sometimes she wondered what his story was.

  He had just carried his beer down to the end of the bar where she was rubbing a spot on the counter, and hitched himself up onto a stool. She swallowed a sigh, expecting he was getting ready to make his usual pitch.

  “So, tell me, you sweet thing.” He leaned toward her a bit. “When are you going to break down and have a night out with me?”

  In the three months she’d been working at the pub, Mary had learned the man was mostly all show and no go. That he loved to tease the ladies, as he said.

  “Now, Frankie.” She gave him her practiced bartender’s wink. “I’d be the most boring date you ever had. Really.”

  “Maybe I’d spice up your life.” He put his hand on top of hers and stilled its movement. “The ladies say I’m a real charme
r.”

  Pat Collins, the patriarch of the Collins family whom they called Pop, and the man for whom the pub was named, was in his usual seat at the center of the long, polished mahogany bar, where he could hear everything and chat with his cronies. He’d assured her, not only was Frank Eglington harmless but he, Pat, would keep an eye on him. Just in case. She was grateful the patriarch of the Collins family had taken her under his wing that way, so to speak.

  Now he let out a hearty laugh. “Snake charmer, maybe. Leave the lass alone, Frankie. You’ve already got too many women on the string.”

  “You’re just jealous.” Frank winked at Mary. “He knows the ladies fall all over themselves for me, right, lass?”

  Mary laughed. “We’re beating them off with a big stick, Pat.”

  She considered herself extremely lucky to have scored this job. In college, she’d worked as a bartender, managing to get herself hired in places where the tips were really good. When she walked away from her job at Tyndal Marketing and Communications she’d wanted a complete change from the high-stress job she’d worked her way up to.

  She lived her life for clients and worried constantly about deadlines. Her goal in college had been to get a job in the Big Apple, work her way up in a high-profile communications and marketing firm, and enjoy life. As one of the most high-profile account executives, she had lived her job twenty-four/seven. It left her with no free time, no love life, and a possible case of ulcers. She’d also experienced something she’d never thought possible—a case of New York burnout.

  Well, she’d gotten two out of three. She supposed that was better than most.

  Maybe it was the large poster leaning against the wall in her office that finally made the decision for her. She’d been working up a campaign for a manufacturer of motorcycle jackets, and the poster was one of the items she’d created. The hunk of all hunks straddled the biggest motorcycle she’d ever seen, a Yamaha VMax, to be exact. The photographer who did the shoot had rented one, telling her it was the ultimate symbol of masculinity and sex. She could believe it. One look at it and all she could think of was being stretched naked over the seat while a sexy biker screwed her brains out. The model himself just added to the fantasy. The sun was shining behind him, his slightly long hair and scruff of a beard adding to his very sexy romantic mystique.

  She realized with a shock she hadn’t had a fantasy like that in way too long. Instead, she dreamed about sales figures and something called a Fan Quotient. If she kept going the way she was, the only motorcycle she might ride was if they carried her to her grave on one. And the only man she’d fuck would be in her dreams, which were getting more and more boring. She wanted what the poster promised, or something close to it. The freedom to ride with the wind, to make only simple decisions, and not worry about anything except if the milk in her fridge was sour.

  And a guy who looked like the model wouldn’t hurt, either. Along with everything else, she had to face the fact her love life was woefully lacking. She hadn’t had sex with a man who interested her in forever, and the best orgasms were the ones she gave herself. But even they left her barely satisfied. She wanted a man who demanded everything of her, who took her over the edge again and again until she was nothing but a limp mass of muscle. She was thirty years old, and the last time she’d had sex her partner told her she needed to stop checking things off in her head like his performance was being graded.

  David Tyndal had been shocked when she handed in her resignation.

  “Don’t do this,” he begged. “You’re one of my best.”

  “I have to. I am so burned out I’m actually fried.”

  “Take a leave of absence, then,” he suggested. “Three months. Six. A year.” He gave a short laugh. “Do I sound desperate? I am.”

  “You have good people here, David. You’ll do just fine.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t do the leave of absence thing,” she told him. “It would always be hanging over me in the back of my mind. I have to do this, David. If you respect me, then please let me do this while I still have it together.”

  In the end, he’d given in and given her his blessing, along with a very large bonus check from the last account she’d handled. Finances would not be a problem, fortunately. In addition to the check, she had a money market account and her 401K she severed from the Tyndal bookkeeping.

  Karen Haywood, her closest friend, wasn’t quite so easily put off.

  “You can’t do this.” She stared across the restaurant table at Mary. “I forbid it.”

  Mary burst out laughing. “Forbid? Are you my keeper or something?”

  “If I have to be.” Karen took a sip of wine. “You worked your ass off to get where you are with Tyndal and now you want to just walk away from it all? That’s insane.”

  “What’s insane would be my staying.” She leaned across the table. “I hope you can understand, but I feel like I have no life except work. My social life is scheduled like my work life, with no room for anything spontaneous. If it’s not on my calendar with at least three alerts, I don’t do it.”

  “Then, just loosen up a little,” Karen urged. “Take a day to just go and play or something.”

  “Please.” She flapped her hand. “That doesn’t work. The office hunts me down and bingo! Another twenty-hour day. Listen. You remember that poster in my office?”

  “The one with the motorcycle hunk?” Karen licked her lips.

  “Uh-huh.” Mary grinned. “That’s the one. I want to find someone like that and go for the ride of my life.” She sighed. “Maybe even have sex on the motorcycle.”

  “Mary!” Her eyes opened even wider in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I might. Or not. Whatever. Listen, Karen. It may be the only one, just one wild ride, but if I don’t do it now, I never will.”

  “Well.” Karen chuckled. “I will say I’d be tempted myself. But, Mary. To throw away a career you’ve worked so hard for?”

  Mary shrugged. “Maybe this is a sign I need to change the entire direction of my life. If it isn’t, at least I’ll have however long it takes me to get this out of my system. And then? Who knows?”

  “Just as long as you make sure to keep in touch with me. I’ll go nuts if I don’t hear from you.”

  “That’s a promise.” She drained her wine and set the goblet on the table. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a Mr. Motorcycle for you.”

  Karen snorted. “Yeah. Well. We’ll see how it works out for you first.”

  In the next week, she listed her condo for lease and was hardly surprised when it was snapped up in twenty-four hours. Prime real estate was scarce in New York, especially when it was leased furnished. She had the tenants checked out to be sure she wasn’t renting to some well-dressed lowlifes, executed the lease, and, two days later, she was ready to set out on her adventure.

  It was barely six o’clock in the morning, but she had an itch to get going. Every inch of her brand new SUV, a car she’d always wanted, was loaded with her clothes and other personal belongings. She had absolutely no idea where she was going except someplace south of New York. She figured she’d just get on the turnpike and stop when the mood struck her.

  That turned out to be Baltimore, and the Inner Harbor a client had told her so much about, a major tourist attraction and place for cruise ships to dock. Parking her vehicle, she wandered around for a while until she came to an interesting looking restaurant that advertised “the best breakfast you’ll ever eat.” She decided to see if there was truth in advertising and discovered it was better than advertised. Good for them, she thought. While she was eating, she’d try to figure out where she thought her next stop might be.

  As it turned out, as with many other things in her life, Fate stuck its nose in her business. There was a newspaper kiosk right by the door, so she snagged a paper to read while she ate. Out of idle curiosity, she turned to the classifieds and checked the Help Wanted section, thinking to see what was happening in her field i
n the city. But as she skimmed the ads, one unexpectedly caught her eye.

  Bartender wanted. Afternoons and four evenings a week. Friendly neighborhood pub. Pat’s Irish Pub.

  It gave an address and a phone number.

  Mary burst out laughing. She’d worked her way through college tending bar and become very proficient at it. Maybe this was a signal to go back to her roots. It was certainly a job she could do blindfolded. She took out her cell phone to call then decided she’d better check the place out first. If it was a dump, she had no interest in working there.

  She signaled for the check and hurried out to the SUV. Her GPS directed her to Pat’s Irish Pub in a neighborhood of middle class homes and apartments as well as commercial streets featuring a mixture of stores and eateries. Through the big plate glass window, she saw the place was full, a good sign it did a nice business. And from what she could see, everyone appeared relaxed and happy.

  The moment she walked in, she had a feeling of coming home. The bustle of feeding and watering the noon crowd. The thrum of conversation, the counterpoint of laughter, and the air laden with the rich scents of good beer and hamburgers calmed her jittery nerves as nothing else could have.

  A huge bear of a man stood behind the bar, filling drink orders with high-speed efficiency while chatting with the customers, a big smile creasing his face. A younger man and a woman bustled around taking and delivering the lunch orders. Every seat was taken, and the place was filled with laughter as well as the buzz of conversation.

  Mary finally scored an empty stool at the bar and ordered a soft drink and a hamburger. While she ate, she studied the place, watching everyone at work, listening to the customers. Right in the middle of the row of barstools sat a man with a thick head of gray hair, a smile on his face. As customers came in, they made it a point to stop by and say hello. Maybe chat a minute.