Glennon kept her footsteps light as she approached the house, weapon in hand. Fanning her fingers over the gun’s grip, she exhaled hard. Her pulse beat loudly in her ears. Mascaro had already sent hit men after her and Anthony. But she’d kill every last one of them before they laid a finger on her son.
“You’re blaming yourself.” The mountain of muscle close on her heels had her back, even with the slight limp he fought to hide from her.
“Did the Rangers train you to read minds or is that a new skill of yours?” Anthony had had a choice back at the hospital and he’d chosen to follow her into battle. She should’ve been relieved. She had a better chance of bringing down the crew responsible for putting that bullet in his leg with him at her side, but... The butterflies in her stomach spread through her entire system. She hadn’t prepared for this day. Imagined it? Sure. But those had only been fantasies. This...this was real. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath. Anthony was about to meet her son. Holstering her weapon, Glennon knocked on the faded red door, her muscles strung tight.
“I don’t need to be able to read minds to know what’s going through your head. I know exactly what you’re thinking, sweetheart.” His deep, rumbling laugh vibrated through her, he was so close. The scent of soap and man clouded her senses over the freezing air around them, but she couldn’t help but breathe a bit deeper. Wisps of his breath tickled the back of her neck. “There was no way you could’ve known about your partner. Bennett is a double agent. And he’s obviously very good at his job.”
From inside, footsteps echoed off the house’s original hardwood floors.
A gust of blistering cold brushed against her as she turned into him. He didn’t understand. She wasn’t blaming herself. “I’m not ashamed I didn’t see him for what he really was. I’m pissed off.”
The door swung open, the racking of a shotgun shell loud in her ears.
Glennon froze but didn’t raise her weapon. Physical tension radiated off Anthony as he moved to her side. Holstering her Glock, she smiled at the woman on the other end of the gun. “Hi, Mom.”
Green eyes, nearly the exact same color as hers, narrowed on her then widened. The older woman lowered the shotgun an inch but kept her wrinkled grip tight around the weapon. While other moms were teaching their daughters how to braid their hair or how to put together the perfect outfit for the first day of school, Helen Chase had been teaching her daughter how to assemble and disassemble that same shotgun on the kitchen table. Blindfolded. Of the few good memories Glennon had of her childhood, those were her favorite. Just her and her mom. The two of them against the world. “You forget something? You’re not supposed to show up here unannounced, girl. That was part of our deal.”
Helen’s thick East Kentucky accent warmed Glennon through and through. Damn, it felt good to be home. She dropped her hands to her sides as another gust of cold uprooted a corner of her mother’s signature flannel long-sleeved shirt. “I came to make sure my son is safe. You can put the gun down now.”
“I told you I’d protect him with my life and I meant it,” Helen said.
Another deep laugh vibrated through Anthony’s chest. He nodded at the older woman, a mixture of respect and amusement etched into his expression. “Helen. Been a while.”
The shotgun found a new target as her mother swung it toward him. Helen’s gaze never left his as she cocked her head. “This is who you hired to help you bring down those bastards who came after you and my grandson? Girl, I thought I taught you more sense than that. Didn’t what happened between me and your daddy teach you anything?”
“Excuse me?” Anthony’s voice dipped into dangerous territory. The weight of his gaze pressed the air from Glennon’s lungs as he spun on her. “I’m going to forget the part where Helen compared me to your deadbeat asshole father. Mascaro’s men came after you and Hunter before you hired me?”
Damn it. Glennon stiffened.
“Wasn’t important at the time.” The sound of broken glass hitting tile, her reaching for the combat knife she kept under her pillow and extracting her service weapon from the gun safe under her bed slid through her mind. She and Hunter had made it out of the house just fine. They’d holed up in a hotel room the rest of the night after she’d called the police. She’d then informed the marshal she and Bennett would be looking into a missing shipment of weapons at JBER and left for Anchorage the second her CO had approved. “I didn’t know who broke into my house or if it had anything to do with our investigation. I still don’t.”
“How about you let me decide what’s important to this investigation from now on?” Anthony gripped his beard, pulling at the hair. He had a point. First, Bennett’s American flag pin. Now this. He had every right not to trust her right now. “Anything else you’re not telling me?”
She flushed as Helen’s attention drifted from Anthony straight to her. She silently screamed for her mother to keep her mouth shut. Now wasn’t the time. Not here. Not yet.
“Well, hell. Looks like you two still have a few things to work out. But it’s best not to make yourselves easy targets standing out here in the cold.” Helen lowered the shotgun barrel toward the floor and cleared the doorway. “Come on then. Get inside.”
A wall of hot air slammed against Glennon as they walked through the door. The cold had never bothered her, but the blistering ice in Anthony’s eyes froze her to the core. Her throat tightened. This day kept getting better and better.
A familiar combination of her mother’s perfume and the lingering scent of home-fried chicken sank deep into her lungs. She hadn’t set foot in this house in years, but the living room, dining room, kitchen—all had remained the same. No family photos hung on the walls, destroyed years ago in a fire. Barely any personal effects adorned the space. The only thing that had changed? The shelf of countless liquor bottles her father had kept stocked was empty. Glennon glanced at her mother.
No. Helen shouldn’t have compared Anthony to her father. Their situations weren’t the same. The man at her side would never drink himself into a rage and take it out on his family. In fact, given the chance, she’d bet the former Ranger would have more than a few words for the man who’d left his wife’s and daughter’s lives in ruins. She’d always known a part of her—some small, distant part—had urged her to join the Military Police so she could track the deadbeat down for what he’d done. But the past was better left buried. She studied the Ranger at her side, then spun on the edge of the worn area rug.
“Can’t remember the last time you were in this house.” Her mother’s fierce green eyes landed on her and an understanding passed between them.
Glennon nodded. They both knew why she hadn’t come home. Too many bad memories. “Where’s Hunter?”
“Asleep in your old room. He likes it in there. Hardly ever leaves.” Her mother set the gun upright against the wall beside the front door. Wasn’t the only one, either. Over the years, Helen Chase had collected an entire arsenal to protect her home and her family. She secured the front door and armed the alarm. Although she hadn’t smoked in years, deep lines creased the edges of Helen’s mouth. “He’s been asking about you, wants to know when you’re coming to take him home.”
Home. Hell, Glennon didn’t even know where that was anymore. Back in Stafford, Virginia? Here, in Anchorage? Anthony turned as he surveyed the rest of the house in her peripheral vision, her awareness of him at an all-time high. She’d promised to keep her emotions in check before hiring him to protect her—for her son’s sake—but after what had happened back in the garage, almost losing him... Her stomach sank. Truth was, he was more than a bodyguard. Always had been.
“This thing that we’re doing... These people.” Bennett’s features flashed across her mind. “It’s more complicated than I thought.”
“So you said over the phone two nights ago.” Helen fisted her hands on her hips, her weight shifting onto one side. “I told you I’d protect
Hunter with everything I got so you can do what you gotta do, but I need to know. What exactly have you gotten yourself into, girl?”
“I can’t tell you. Not yet, anyway.” She swallowed the urge to reveal everything. The dead sniper, Bennett’s involvement in Nicholas Mascaro’s operation, how very close she was to losing her tightly held control. She glanced at Anthony and rolled her fingers into her palms. A couple more days. That was all she needed to end this nightmare. “But I promise, it’s almost over. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Anthony lowered his chin to his chest, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Hallway.”
“Grandma—” small footsteps scuffed against the hardwood floor down the hall “—I need water and ice in my cup, please.”
Warmth shot through Glennon as a head of short blond hair came into sight. A familiar pair of worn Batman pajamas and bright green eyes cleared the adrenalized haze of the last few days. Air rushed from her lungs. Her eyes burned. “Hey, baby.”
Hunter’s attention snapped to her, his eyes widening, mouth dropping open. “Mommy!”
The living room blurred in her vision as she closed the distance between them. Landing hard on her knees, Glennon wrapped Hunter in her arms. The pain in her shoulder pulled at her but she pushed it to the back of her mind. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” His thin, four-year-old arms tightened around her neck.
An invisible weight of relief bore into her. She lifted her gaze to Anthony, surprised to find the rough edges that had sharpened his features for so long had softened. Pulling back slightly, she framed Hunter’s small face between her hands. The butterflies in her gut rebelled in full force. She exhaled to expel the burning sensation exploding in her chest. This was it. This was her chance to tell the truth. “Hunter, baby, I have a friend here I want you to meet.”
Chapter Ten
He’d never stood a chance.
Years of intense training, combat operations, losing trusted friends and facing off with death more times than he could count hadn’t done him a damn bit of good. Glennon Chase had always been the one war he couldn’t fight.
And he didn’t want to. Not anymore.
A smile brightened the darkness that had been permanently etched on her features since he’d set sights on her. Chasing her son around the coffee table, Glennon roared at the top of her lungs. For the past hour, she and Hunter had taken turns succumbing to the tickle monster. Their combined laughter had even reached him outside while he’d conducted a perimeter check, and he couldn’t keep from smiling. They were perfect together—a family—but an imagined vice tightened his chest nonetheless.
“They make quite the pair, don’t they?” Helen handed him a fresh cup of coffee then pushed her shoulder into the wall beside him. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Must be one of her old injuries from her married days acting up. “I was surprised to find you standing next to her out there on my porch. So how’d she do it? How’d she convince you to help her after what she did?”
He straightened, the coffee swishing against the side of his mug. “Hunter.”
“She tell you who his daddy is?” she asked.
“No.” Did it matter?
Helen nodded in his peripheral vision. “You know, I’d never met my grandson until a couple of weeks ago.” She took a sip of her coffee, her swallow audible. “Glennon wouldn’t come back here after growing up the way she did. Couldn’t even step foot in this house until tonight. Can’t say I blame her.” Helen shifted again, her long, grayish-blond hair swinging forward. “But you didn’t come back here to listen to me ramble on about the past. It’s the future that matters, don’t it?”
Damn straight. And his entire future had just started running around the couches for another game of tickle monster. Heat worked into his hand as he stared into the watery black reflection of the coffee. He forced the small muscles around his eyes to relax and sipped from his mug, the dark, rich liquid burning his throat on the way down. The taste escaped him as Glennon and her son collapsed into a pile of giggles on the living room floor. He’d already experienced as much evil in the world as he could tolerate. This right here? This perfect little family? That was what he’d wanted since the moment he’d set eyes on her back in his teaching days. It was everything. She was everything.
“She’s strong. Stronger than I was at her age.” Helen’s lips thinned into a hard line, the wrinkles around her mouth growing deeper. “She’s a big-time investigator now, but whatever this is she’s wrapped up in—” she nodded toward Glennon “—I need you to get her out of it, Anthony. I need you to do what you’ve got to do to make sure my daughter comes home to that boy, understand?”
No question. While he’d initially fought against getting wrapped up in the one woman he never thought he’d see again, he’d made his decision the second he’d recognized her voice over the phone. He’d never given up on her. Never intended to let her go, but he’d kept his distance. Hadn’t looked for her. Out of respect.
The weight of her engagement ring against his skin pulled at his attention. No. He wasn’t about to lose her again. And as for Mascaro’s crew? They could have her over his dead body. Glennon was his. Forever. “You have my word.”
“Anthony, save me!” Hunter’s call was drowned in a flood of laughter as his mother clamped her hand over his mouth from behind.
Hesitation gripped him hard. His drumming heartbeat was too loud behind his ears. Haiti, Bosnia, Kosovo. None of those operations had trained him for this. What was he supposed to do? The little boy he’d met not an hour ago wanted him to join in his game.
“Go on now.” Helen took the cup from his hand. “He’s promised me he’s not biting people anymore. But I’d keep your fingers out of his mouth just in case.”
What was one more scar?
“Understood.” All right then. This was it. Anthony nodded as he stripped out of his shoulder holster and set it on top of a bookcase to his right. Next, the blades he kept strapped at his ankle and thigh. After unloading his entire arsenal, he was ready. Advancing onto the battlefield, he dove straight into action. His entire body heated as Glennon smiled up at him from her position on the floor. Screw the stitches. Seeing these two so happy when everything in his life centered around guns, blood and betrayal was all that mattered. His control crumbled as another round of laughs exploded around him. “I never leave a man behind.”
Hunter fought against his mother’s hold, his small, crooked smile wide. “Get her!”
“And get on your mom’s bad side? I don’t think so.” Anthony went in for the attack, aiming straight for Hunter’s underarms.
A high-pitched scream nearly burst his eardrums as the four-year-old lifted his feet to kick out. Anthony dodged the first attempt but caught a hit to the gut the second time around. Hunter fell onto his back, sandwiching Glennon between her son and the floor. Right where he wanted her. Crooking his finger, Anthony whispered the plan in Hunter’s ear. “Got it?”
Hunter nodded, spinning into his mother. In two seconds flat the boy pinned her wrists against the floor. Faux screams filled the living room as Glennon fought against her son’s strength. “Got you!”
“Wait! You weren’t supposed to go until three.” Anthony shrugged. “Tickle her!”
The four-year-old didn’t have to be told twice, consumed with the need to make his mother laugh.
Tucking her chin against her chest, Glennon curled into a fetal position, but that wouldn’t save her. Not from him.
Anthony maneuvered around the other side of the fight. Wrapping his grip around one wrist, he hauled her off the floor and against him, her back to his chest. Her rosy scent filled the living room as he lifted her uninjured arm above her head. She was exposed. Vulnerable. “Now, Hunter! Go, go, go!”
“No!” Her spine tensed as her son took advantage. She fought to pull her arm down,
to get away from him, her laugh smooth and addictive in every sense of the word. “This isn’t fair. There are two of you and only one of me.”
He committed the sound to memory. Lowering his mouth to her ear, Anthony inhaled her scent deep into his system. No matter what happened at the end of the investigation, he would have this. If only for a night, he’d made her smile, made her laugh. She’d been happy. “Haven’t you heard, all is fair in love and war?”
“Oh, it is on.” She kicked at the floor and launched them backward. The maneuver broke his hold on her wrists and she spun into him. Wrapping her arms around his middle, Glennon rolled them across the worn rug with a lightness he’d never seen in her before. The living room blurred in his vision then vanished altogether, his entire focus centered on her. The danger that awaited them outside that front door, the betrayal of the past three days, had vanished the second she’d laid eyes on her son.
The ache in his chest lessened as he pinned her beneath his weight, her expression bright and full of something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Hope. Her chest rose and fell against his as she fought to catch her breath. A fleeting smile burst across her features as she brushed away a stray piece of hair that had caught in her long lashes. “You two might’ve won this round, but this isn’t over. We’re not finished.”
“You got that right, sweetheart.” Seconds slipped by as he stared down at her, but the sudden onslaught of forty pounds of deadweight crushing him into Glennon cleared his head. Reaching back, he rolled away from her as he maneuvered the laughing four-year-old into his arms. He fell back against the nearest couch, fought to catch his breath. Pain surged through the wound in his side. “Oh, man. You got me.”
“All right, boy.” Helen rounded the corner from the kitchen, securing the lid on Hunter’s cup into place. She hiked one hand onto her hip and offered him the drink. “I filled up your water. Time to get your tiny butt back in bed.”
Rules in Rescue Page 11
