Jenna West has no idea what she might have done to her new tenant Mike Hightower. He's surly and hateful every single time they meet, and he looks at her as though he despises her.
He does despise her. She's from the Middle East, and people like her killed his friend Ramirez when the army sent them to Iraq.
Will the power of love work its magic to soften Mike's bitter hatred, or will he ignore his growing attraction for his pretty landlady?
The men beside him each grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet. “Move your feet, Hightower,” Ramirez snarled.
They had gone about ten yards when gunfire opened up behind them. Ramirez screamed, and Mike felt him go down. He tripped again but managed to hang on to his gun. “Shoot, Mike! Hostiles at ten o’clock!” Mason yelled.
Mike fired, but he must not have hit anything because seconds later a hot, boring pain almost tore off his shoulder. Blindly he fired into the dark, and moments later, his leg took fire.
Shots came from the street.
Captain Perry yelled, “Hightower, Mason, hold your fire.”
Moments later Perry knelt beside Mike. “Where are you hit?”
“Shoulder and leg.”
“Sit tight. We’ll get a medic as quick as we can.”
“What about Ramirez?”
“Sorry, he’s gone.”
As his anger built, Mike forgot about the pain in his shoulder and leg. Ramirez had been his friend. These people didn’t appreciate a thing that the United States was trying to do for them.