One

      Matt Harper was this side of heaven and jetting for the sun.

      Grinning, he ran his hand over her sexy, smooth curves and drove her higher. Faster. Stronger. She purred beneath him and he felt the subtle vibrations in his core. She was hot as hell, all power and finesse, sleek and intelligent. Today, he’d take her to the limits and let her break free to glory. She was made for a guy like him, not the mean old man who’d purchased her to look at her. What a waste. It broke Matt’s heart to think that this sixty-five-million-dollar honey would sit around and collect dust.

      His girlfriend for the day was a new Gulfstream G650ER—a sweet piece of aircraft his father had purchased for Harper Industries. Why? It wasn’t as if his father was going to fly by his oil derricks to scare the workers like he used to. If gossip rags were to be believed, his father was avoiding the public and holing up in Casa Larga—the family’s summer home. Matt didn’t know about public avoidance, but he hadn’t seen his father in ten years. Make it fifty and Matt would’ve been fine.

      He banked left and the Harper mansion came into view. His jaw tightened. In the Air Force, Matt had a name for each sortie his team flew. Every target he dropped bombs on was called Casa Larga.

      He slammed his fist into his thigh. This was jacked up. He’d rather be in battle—hell, anyplace on the planet—than here. And yet, here he was.

      Why in hell had his father called him home?

      He landed at Harpers’ private airport and shut off the engine. Now if only he could shut down the brutal memories pummeling him from all sides.

      Like his father’s hands used to.

      He was seventeen again, with blood in his mouth, fists up, and daring RW to slap him one more time. Dad had given him plenty of orders before, but the ultimatum that day had gutted him.

       Since you won’t stay away from the girl, you’ve got a choice. Leave now for the Air Force academy or watch what happens to your little girlfriend. I have intel, my boy, the kind that destroys an entire family. Is that what you want to happen to her?

      No one could stab you in the back like a Harper.

      Were the threats real? Matt hadn’t known back then, still didn’t know, but Julia had been his girl and he’d loved her, plain and simple. He’d had no choice but to protect her and save her family from whatever RW Harper had on them. Matt had been shipped off to the Air Force academy that day. He hadn’t gotten to kiss Julia goodbye, but he’d believed he’d come back for her. What a crock.

      Ten years later he’d succeeded in putting it behind him, mostly. But what he couldn’t get past, no matter how many gorgeous women later, was the girl he’d been forced to leave behind. Julia had promised to be his forever, until she married someone else three months after he’d left. He’d been cut and shot, but nothing in the Air Force hurt as bad as receiving news of Julia’s wedding from home. It was the final blow and he’d sworn he’d never return to Plunder Cove.

      Until RW made him a deal: fly the Gulfstream to Plunder Cove and Harper Industries would purchase the last plane required for Matt’s fleet in Southeast Asia. An investor had bailed on him and Matt’s new airline company needed that final aircraft. He’d had to take the deal. And, just like that, RW Harper—pirate slash oil tycoon—had bought him.

      He would not hang around Plunder Cove long enough to see Julia Espinoza, or whatever her last name was now.

      After this, Matt Harper was done.

      * * *

      Matt stopped in at Juanita’s Café and Market. It was one of his favorite childhood hangouts in Pueblicito—the tiny village on the edge of his family’s property.

      The first summer he’d gone into the place, he was eight. He’d been overwhelmed by interesting smells and sights. He couldn’t understand the Spanish signs, and the boar’s head behind the meat counter had freaked him out, but the Mexican candy was intriguing. He’d never seen anything like it so he’d swiped a handful. His mother had been horrified that he’d, first, gone into that dirty place and, second, taken anything from “those people.” She’d made him go back and pay for the candy.

      Juanita herself had given him a stern look and told him she expected him to work for his crimes. He’d swept the entire store. It was the first time he’d worked for anything, or felt a sense of accomplishment. He’d returned the next day and asked if he could steal something else.

      “Why? Didn’t you learn your lesson?” she’d asked.

      “Sure, I did. I want to sweep again. Work is fun.”

      Juanita had thrown her head back, laughed and then hugged him. She’d smelled nice and her arms had been warm and soft. He’d wished his mother would hug and smile with her whole face like Juanita did, not just with her thin lips.

      “Claro, amorcito.” She’d released him and handed him a broom. “Use this anytime you want. I’ll pay you in dulces.”

      A bargain was struck.