Hard to Lose Read online

  TITLE PAGE

  PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

  ALSO BY K. BROMBERG

  COPYRIGHT

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE

  COMING SOON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  “K. Bromberg always delivers intelligently written, emotionally intense, sensual romance . . .”

  —USA Today

  “K. Bromberg makes you believe in the power of true love.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan

  “A poignant and hauntingly beautiful story of survival, second chances, and the healing power of love. An absolute must-read.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting

  “An irresistibly hot romance that stays with you long after you finish the book.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

  “Supercharged heat and full of heart. Bromberg aces it from the first page to the last.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott

  Driven

  Fueled

  Crashed

  Raced

  Aced

  Slow Burn

  Sweet Ache

  Hard Beat

  Down Shift

  UnRaveled

  Sweet Cheeks

  Sweet Rivalry

  The Player

  The Catch

  Cuffed

  Combust

  Cockpit

  Control

  Faking It

  Resist

  Reveal

  Then You Happened

  Flirting with 40

  Hard to Handle

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Score

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2021 by K. Bromberg

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-942832-23-2

  Cover design by Helen Williams

  Cover Image by Wong Sim

  Cover Model: Mitchell Wick

  Editing by Marion Making Manuscripts

  Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  Printed in the United States of America

  Ryan

  “WHEN WE’RE DONE AND OUT of here, man, I think we should all open a bar together,” Shotgun says with a disbelieving laugh, pointing to the desert-brown plywood around us. Beyond that are concrete barriers with razor wire on top, more fencing, and security watch to keep out our enemies, who are probably sitting in the hills surrounding us, watching our every move.

  Dickman holds out the bottle of whiskey to me. Or at least I think it’s whiskey. We’re not one hundred percent sure, but he got it from someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows our translator, and despite alcohol being illegal for us, we have it anyway.

  Maybe that’s why I’m hesitating taking it. The last thing I want is to get caught by our commanding officer and put on burning-the-shitter detail as punishment.

  However, I reach over, take the bottle, and tilt it to my lips for one long, deep swallow. I wince as the burn fires down my throat but Jesus, it’s welcome if only to help me forget for a few goddamn minutes where I am and what we’re doing.

  “A bar?” Richard asks.

  “Yep. The four of us will buy a bar together and call it FUBAR as a silent ode to this once-in-a-lifetime experience we’re enjoying right here.” Shotgun’s sarcasm rings loud and clear, and we all laugh.

  “I can get on board with that,” I say with a nod, the alcohol hitting faster than I expected. “Jesus, that’s some strong shit.”

  Dickman laughs like a crazed loon, and we all shush him so we don’t get in trouble. “It definitely has a higher alcohol content than the shit we have back home.”

  “Home,” Shotgun murmurs. We all fall silent, because we know his girl just dumped him and he’s taking it hard. Hell, we’ve only been here a month, so she didn’t even let his sheets grow cold before doing it either.

  He may have lost his girl, but I lost my dream.

  Fuck. That definitely hurts.

  “What is it you guys can’t wait to get back to?” Richard asks as he hands the bottle back to me.

  “Pussy,” Dickman deadpans, and we all burst out laughing.

  “No shit,” Richard says, punching him in the arm. “I’m serious. Like we’re here and shit, but what are you hoping for when you get back?”

  “We should just kiss our old lives goodbye,” Dickman says, “because nothing will ever be the same again.”

  “C’mon,” I mutter. “That’s not true.”

  “Like hell it isn’t,” Dickman says, and of course, we all pay more attention when he speaks because this is his second tour.

  “No, I’m dead serious.” He points to me. “Don’t you get it? You’re no longer PFC Ryan Camden. You’re a faceless number among many. When the brass looks at you, they see a guy who mans the gun. Now to them, you’re simply Gunner.”

  “Whatever.” I wave a hand at him and dismiss his I-know-more-than-you bullshit.

  “You think I’m joking?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Richard over there has been dubbed Nixon, because he’s a tricky motherfucker who gets himself out of situations no one else can. Shotgun is . . . he’s always sitting shotgun beside me, so yeah, that’s what his name is.”

  “And you? Why are you Dickman?”

  He snorts, his eyes glassy when they meet mine. “Because I’m a dick, man,” he says in a total stoner voice. It draws a chuckle from us, but we all meet each other’s eyes through the darkness. That nickname is like hitting a nail on the head. He’s great, but thank fuck he’s on our side.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Shotgun says.

  We fall silent as we hear a noise in the distance. It sounds like a gunshot, but we’re so used to the sound in our short time here, none of us even flinch.

  “Look, we all gave up something—a lot of things to be here—but the question is: what did you give up that you’ll never get back?” Dickman continues on his depressing roll.

  His words have me thinking, wondering, cringing at the decisions I made and how I ended up here.

  “Isn’t hope a good thing?” I finally ask. “Why give it up when it’s something we can look forward to?”

  “You’re not getting it, Gunner,” Dickman says and takes the bottle from my hand. “Everything has changed. No one there cares about you anymore like you thought they did. Or if they did, it’s now different.” Concern flickers through Shotgun’s eyes. “The easiest thing to do, for your own sanity, is to pick the one thing you loved the most and say goodbye to it. Make it official and let it go. Hell, you might as well write your last letter to whatever or whoever it is, and say goodbye as if you’ll die.”

  “I’m not buying it,” I mutter, then get up and leave the pow-wow, a little less steady on my feet.

  Regardless of how much I know his comment is, in fact, complete crap, it runs on repeat in my head.

  Over and over.

  I lie in my bunk, thinking of everything I gave up. The doubts, the what-ifs, the maybe I should’ve fought a little harders, eat away at me.

  And then to think of what my mom found after I left for deployment. The voicemails from agents. The interest and belief in my talent.

  All wasted now.

  “Let it go, Ryan,” I mutter to the darkened ceiling. Tears burn in the back of my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut to force them away.

  Maybe Dickman is right. Maybe holding on to hope is only going to cause me more pain. It’s not like the MLB will want me after my four years are up anyway.