No Way Out

by Brennan, Allison

  Training? Yes. Faith and God? Maybe. Just maybe.

  At least he was willing to entertain the notion.

  Kane looked at his brother. Sean was bruised and sore, one eye black and near swollen shut, but he stood there with him and Kane had never been so proud of him as he was now.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Sean stared at him. Not moving, not blinking. Maybe Kane had never said it before. Hell, he hadn’t. Sean was his brother, what did he need of his love?

  With a half smile, Sean said, “I know.”

  But the tears in Sean’s eyes told Kane everything he needed to know. And that everything was going to change. While Kane feared it would change for the worse—how could the world survive without him fighting its battles?—he knew now that it may actually change for the better.

  The door opened and Kane did a double take when JT Caruso, Rick Stockton, and Matt Elliott walked in. The four of them had been closer than brothers when they were in the military. The three were Navy SEALs and Kane, the Marine. They’d shared more than one intense deployment . . . and were forever blood, forever bound.

  “Only you, Kane Rogan, would think you could get married without us,” Rick said bluntly.

  “Only you would crash a wedding, Spike.”

  Rick laughed at a nickname he hadn’t heard in years, then hugged Kane and slapped him on the back. “You won the jackpot with that one,” he said.

  Kane winced at the pain but Rick didn’t show any remorse for the hug.

  “No arguments,” Kane said.

  “Duke is here,” JT said. “He wasn’t certain you would be happy, since none of us were invited.”

  “Because I didn’t want a thing.”

  It made him distinctly uncomfortable.

  “But,” he continued, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Then you won’t be upset that Ranger, Lucky, Blitz, and Dyson are all in the church too.”

  He stared at his closest friend and didn’t say anything.

  “They moved heaven and earth to be here tonight,” JT said. “They wanted to be.”

  Kane felt surprisingly blessed—yes, blessed, he thought wryly—that he had so many close friends.

  Padre stepped into the small rectory. “Time to get this party started,” he said. He looked at Sean and frowned. “You okay?”

  “Nothing a week of sleep won’t fix.”

  Kane looked at his brother. He wasn’t 100 percent, and that he was here with him meant everything. He hoped his present would arrive in time—he looked at Padre for confirmation.

  Padre nodded.

  Good. Jesse had made it. It was cutting it close, but Kane had sent someone he trusted to retrieve Jesse, have a conversation with his grandfather, and ensure that there would be no one coming between Sean and his son ever again.

  Because they were family, and family was everything.

  * * *

  “You’re . . . wow,” Lucy said when Siobhan walked in. “Beautiful is an understatement. It’s perfect.”

  Siobhan wore the same dress her grandmother had worn seventy years ago. Beautiful antique Irish lace, off the shoulder, shorter than most wedding dresses because her grandmother had been five feet tall. She’d taken it to a seamstress who had kept it mostly same, just minor changes, and she was so pleased with the result. It was simple, classic, and exactly what she wanted.

  History and love all rolled into one.

  “Ready?” Lucy said.

  “One minute,” Siobhan said, taking a deep breath. “I can’t believe how many people are out there for a wedding we didn’t send invitations for.”

  Andie glanced at Lucy. “Can you give us a minute, Lucy?”

  “Of course,” she said and stepped out.

  Siobhan frowned at her sister. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why would you think anything’s wrong?

  “I just—” She sighed. “I never really talked to you about Kane. I know you were his commanding officer, and this is probably all weird for you.”

  She laughed—something that she rarely did. “Honey, I was Kane’s commanding officer nearly twenty years ago. And yes, I’ll always be his superior.” She smiled. “And I love that he’s marrying my sister and he knows I’m always his superior officer.”

  Siobhan smiled, though she didn’t quite understand what her sister meant.

  “Anyway, something completely different.” She took a deep breath. “I’m being promoted.”

  “Promoted? Really?”

  “Yes, to Colonel. They told me last week, and there will be a ceremony.”

  “For your eagle wings.”

  “You’re the last of my family, Siobhan. It would mean everything to me if you would pin on the eagle.”

  Siobhan teared up. “Stop. My mascara.”

  Andie smiled, but she, too, had tears in her eyes. “Dad would be so proud of you,” she said quietly. “I don’t say it, because sometimes your actions—well, I’m proud and worried and angry all rolled into one. But Dad—he was lost when my mom died. And then he found your mom and he was reborn. I’m not religious, not like you, but I really believe there was a higher power out there looking out for him, and giving him your mom. And you. If you weren’t here, I would have nobody. My mom died when I was young, then my brother died in Desert Storm, and then our dad died . . . and I have you. You are the light of my life, Siobhan. I love my country and the Marines and will always serve them to the best of my abilities. But because you’re here, I do it also for you. You could not have found a better man than Kane Rogan. He’s hardly perfect, but there is no one more loyal on this planet.”

  Siobhan couldn’t stop the tears, but she didn’t care. “I love you so much, Andie.”

  “I’m proud to walk you down the aisle. And to remind Kane that if he breaks your heart, he answers to me.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  COLD AS ICE

  By Allison Brennan

  Available November 2020 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Wednesday

  Siobhan Walsh Rogan watched as her new husband and his team helped the six terrified girls into the old Hummer.

  Even before he took her hand to help her into the back, she could read his mind.

  “No,” she said. She jumped back down on the ground. She looked into Kane’s brilliant blue eyes and knew her instincts were right. “No,” she said, more emphatic. “Do not go after him.”

  She ignored the gnats flying around her head, the distant sound of a lone rifle, the curses of the man restrained in the doorway of the house Kane and his men had raided.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “See, you can’t even argue with me!”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Red. Get in the truck.”

  “No.”

  His gaze narrowed just a fraction, but added three levels of mean to his expression.

  “It’s an order.”

  “Don’t even.”

  He pulled her away from the truck, away from his team and the girls who were watching them far too closely.

  “I will learn where he’s going. I’m going to stop him.”

  “It’s not worth it.”

  “Was it worth it to rescue Hestia nine years ago?”

  “This is not the same thing. We have the girls! We’re getting to safety.”

  “Dyson and Lucky will take you to the convent. Ranger’s with me. I know what I’m doing, Siobhan.”

  He looked like the cold, hardened mercenary he’d been when she first met him. The mercenary she had loved and hated. The hero she wanted and feared for.

  She couldn’t stop him. She knew that. She wanted to—because she had never loved like this before. But she loved Kane Rogan because of who he was, and this was who he was. He hadn’t wanted her to come because this was a dangerous operation, but he also recognized that her unique skill set working with young victims would be instrumental in making
the extraction easier than it might have been. He trusted her when she knew it was hard for him to put her in danger.

  She had to trust him.

  This was who Kane was. She didn’t want to change him. She couldn’t if she tried.

  She just didn’t want to lose him.

  Yet another reason why she loved him so much.

  “Don’t get killed, Kane Rogan.”

  He kissed her. So hard it almost hurt, then he touched her face, and she saw the love in his expression, the love he had a hard time showing. “I love you. Go.”

  She went to the truck. Dyson handed her a gun, nodded to Lucky that they were ready. “Eyes open, Red,” he said.

  Ranger had already made sure the girls were both secured and unarmed. He squeezed Siobhan’s hand and said, “I’ll protect him.”

  She nodded, even though she wanted to scream that this was too dangerous, foolhardy. Human traffickers were a dime a dozen, and even though Peter Blair was one of the worst out there—an ex-patriot who would do anything for money—they could find him another way.

  Not following him into territory he knew better than they did, with people loyal to Blair willing to kill for him.

  It’s too dangerous, Kane. Change your mind.

  Lucky turned the ignition and drove away, down the mountain. The last thing she saw was Ranger following Kane back to the house that had once held these victims. Four dead littered the ground; the fifth was injured and trussed up by the door. Kane dragged him inside the house, and Ranger followed, closing the door.

  Peter Blair had gotten away, an evil man Siobhan had been tracking for even longer than Kane. Yet, though she’d seen the brutal handiwork of Blair and his men time and time again, she didn’t want to know how Kane and Ranger would find out where he went.

  Lucky sped off toward the setting sun and Siobhan prayed for Kane’s safety.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Friday

  Three years ago if Sean Rogan saw two police cars and an unmarked sedan in front of his house, he would have driven by until he knew exactly what was going on. But now, his first thought was fear:

  Lucy.

  He immediately dismissed the thought that Lucy had been injured in the line of duty. Someone from the FBI would have called him. And while his son now lived with him, he’d dropped Jesse off at school not ten minutes ago, so these cops weren’t here because of something related to Jesse or the school.

  Still, that twitch in his gut had him seriously wanting to pass by without a glance at his house, and he usually trusted his instincts.

  He wished he’d trusted them now, but he clicked the garage door opener and pulled his Jeep Wrangler into his parking slot on the right. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the cops were here to talk to him. The uniformed officers were getting out of their car, and two detectives emerged from the sedan.

  He didn’t recognize any of them.

  If it was one car, he wouldn’t be concerned. RCK—the security consulting firm his brothers had co-founded, and which he served as a principal—worked closely with law enforcement on a variety of projects. At the end of last year, Sean had assisted in an SAPD case. Between him and Lucy, they knew several cops on the force.

  But this was three cars and he knew none of the cops.

  That worried him.

  He walked around to the back of the Jeep, looked straight in the eye of the cop closest to him. Plainclothes. Detective. Six foot tall, blond hair, blue eyes. The other detective was female, younger, Hispanic, not a good poker face. She clearly didn’t like him, but Sean had never met her before.

  “Can I help you?” he said, his voice sounding calm and chatty when that was the last thing he felt like doing.

  “Sean Rogan?”

  “That’s me.”

  The detective smiled, trying to put Sean at ease, but that only made Sean more uncomfortable, especially since the female detective stood there as if she was ready to draw and fire on him.

  “Detective John Banner,” he said. He didn’t offer to shake his hand. He was keeping his distance, about twelve feet. “This is my partner Kris Mendez. We were hoping you could come down to the station and answer some questions.”

  “About what?”

  “Mona Odette Hill.”

  Mona?

  Shit.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” he said, motioning toward his house. “I’ll make coffee.”

  “Ms. Hill was murdered Monday night and we’d like to talk to you about that. It would be better if you come with us.”

  What the hell was going on? Mona was dead?

  Monday.

  Sean had gone to Houston on Monday and met with Mona. So these cops might have a witness that saw him near her condo. Fine. But that didn’t mean he would go down to the fucking station and talk. “No, thank you, I’m happy to talk with you here.” It took all his control not to tell them to screw off and call his lawyer. Something was going on, and Sean had the distinct impression that they thought he was involved.

  Banner had said Mona was murdered.

  They wanted him to come to the station.

  Nothing good would come from him going to the station.

  What did you get yourself into, Mona?

  Banner glanced at his partner. They communicated silently for about two seconds, then Banner said, “Mr. Rogan, you’re under arrest for the murder of Mona Hill.”

  Banner nodded to one of the officers who cautiously approached Sean.

  “What the hell?” he said though he knew he shouldn’t say a word. “You want to talk, now you’re arresting me?”

  “Turn around,” the officer said. “Kneel, and put your hands on the top of your head.”

  Sean didn’t move. He was being arrested for murder? He took everything in. The two detectives. Four uniformed officers. Coming to his house—after Lucy was gone, after he returned from dropping Jesse off at school. Did they know his routine? Did they plan it this way? How long had they been watching him?

  “Mr. Rogan, please comply,” Banner said. “I know your wife is a federal agent, and you have friends in the department. I don’t want this to become a sticky situation.”

  He had no choice.

  “I’d like to call my wife.” He actually wanted to call JT Caruso, the head of RCK. JT would know exactly what to do and would get him a lawyer.

  You know what to do, Sean. Don’t say anything. Not one more word. You’re innocent, but that doesn’t mean squat. Keep your mouth shut and don’t piss off the cops.

  “You’ll be able to make your calls as soon as you’ve been booked in Houston.”

  “Houston? You’re taking me to Houston?” So much for keeping his mouth shut.

  Mona Hill lives in Houston.

  “Yes, Mr. Rogan,” Banner said. “We’re with Houston PD. The San Antonio officers are assisting.”

  So they’d planned to arrest him from the beginning. They wouldn’t have brought the officers if this wasn’t the endgame.

  “I’m armed,” Sean said. “I have a concealed carry permit in my wallet.”

  “Thank you for that,” Banner said. “Are you carrying anything besides a handgun?”

  “A knife in my right front pocket.”

  He hated this. Everything about this. It was bullshit. He considered resisting, but that wouldn’t do him any good.

  You should have driven by when you saw the cop cars. Just driven on by until you knew why they were there. You’ve turned soft, Rogan.

  The SAPD officer repeated, “Turn around and kneel, put your hands on the top of your head.”

  Sean didn’t like that his partner had his hand on his holstered gun. Did they think he was going to run? Fight? Shoot?

  He said to Banner, “If you just tell me what’s going on, I can come down on my own with my lawyer.”

  “That won’t be possible.”

  “Why the hell not?” Sean snapped, hating that he was letting his fear take over. “You know my wif
e is a federal agent. My sister-in-law is a fed. You must know I have government contracts, security clearance. You can ask me to come in and talk and I’ll be there.”

  “I did.”

  “I mean on my own, with my lawyer.”

  “Too late.”

  “You didn’t give me the fucking choice!”

  “Are you going to make this difficult, Mr. Rogan? Do I need to add resisting arrest?”

  “I’m not resisting, I’m talking.”

  “You’re a flight risk, Mr. Rogan,” Banner said. “I know who you are and what you’re capable of, and I’m sorry it came to this, but I have no choice. I’m only going to ask you one more time. Turn around, put your hands on your head, and kneel.”

  He complied, resisting an overwhelming urge to run. His entire body tensed, he would not do well behind bars, and he knew it. He already felt like a caged animal and the cuffs weren’t even on his wrists.

  The two SAPD officers approached him. One searched him and removed his gun, handed it to his partner, who unloaded it and handed it to Mendez, who put it in an evidence bag. The officer found his knife that he kept in his pocket, also handed that to his partner.

  “Do you always take your kid to school armed?” the cop said.

  Sean couldn’t let him bait him. This cop was nobody, and Sean wasn’t going to say a word until he knew exactly what was going on and why these cops thought he killed Mona Hill. He’d already said too much, arguing with Banner.

  His left wrist was cuffed, pulled behind his back, and then his right arm was brought down.

  “Relax, Mr. Rogan,” the officer said.

  He tried. He couldn’t. He valued his freedom more than anything. He’d spent a few days in jail before, he could not—would not—spend the weekend behind bars.