A Killer Duet

by Mary Winter

  A Killer Duet

  Brotherhood Protectors World

  Mary Winter

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Also by Mary Winter

  About Mary Winter

  Original Brotherhood Protectors Series

  About Elle James

  Copyright © 2019, Mary Winter

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2019 Twisted Page Press, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Brotherhood Protectors

  Original Series by Elle James

  Brotherhood Protectors Series

  Montana SEAL (#1)

  Bride Protector SEAL (#2)

  Montana D-Force (#3)

  Cowboy D-Force (#4)

  Montana Ranger (#5)

  Montana Dog Soldier (#6)

  Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)

  Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)

  Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)

  Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)

  Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)

  Montana SEAL’s Mail-Order Bride (#12)

  Montana Rescue (Sleeper SEAL)

  Hot SEAL Salty Dog (SEALs in Paradise)

  Brotherhood Protectors Vol 1

  Chapter 1

  The announcer leading off the six o’clock news with breaking news didn’t stop Case Trenton in his tracks, but the picture of the beautiful country singer who was performing at the Newton Theater on the strip did. The announcer spoke of an attack on singer Rain Chowden, one that thankfully had been fended off by venue security and a couple of good Samaritans. The file photo didn’t do her justice from the riot of blond curls around her face to her wide almond-shaped eyes. The slash of blue shadow only heightened their color, and her lips, painted a deep kissable red, made his groin ache. He also recognized a case when he saw one.

  Not for his boss. Though Hank sent agents all over the country, this one he suspected would fall into his buddy Johnny’s territory. He called his friend’s cell.

  “Hey, Gibson. Long time no hear. How’s security life treating you?” Johnny said. The background noise of a party or a dinner filtered through the phone.

  “Taking a bit of a break at the moment. Hey, I’m not disturbing you am I? I’m down in Branson and I saw something on the local news that might be a job for Treble Security.”

  The noise quieted down. “Sorry. I’m out on the balcony. Harley’s holding a cocktail party for some musicians she knows in New York. I’m thankful for the break actually. You know me. I’d rather do some improvisational jazz rather than symphonic music. But I digress. What’cha got? And do you still have that old beat up guitar?”

  Case smiled, both at the nickname he hadn’t heard in a while and the fact that his friend seemed to be doing so well. Last he’d heard Johnny had taken the personal job of being security for violin virtuoso Harley Keets and they’d fallen for each other. “I do. You know I don’t go anywhere without it.” His gaze fell to the Gibson acoustic guitar in its case that had belonged to his father and he told Johnny about the attack.

  “Well I have some contacts with her management, I think,” Johnny said when Case finished. “The problem is, all my agents are on assignment. I don’t have anyone to take the case. I can pass it over to Brotherhood Protectors for a finder’s fee, of course.” He laughed. “If you want to take the case. Seems like the thing to do since you’re there already.”

  Case hesitated. “Look. My last job was rough. Client was safe. That was all that mattered. But I’m here on vacation. A sabbatical. On leave. Whatever you want to call it doesn’t matter because I’m not ready to take another job yet.” He glanced at the guitar in the corner wondering if now would be a good time to mention to Johnny that he was going to be getting out of the security business altogether. Maybe try to make a go of it as an off-off-off Nashville country singer. He had plenty of money saved up. If it didn’t work out, his mother wouldn’t mind him coming home and working with the family business. Even his two brothers had said that he’d be welcome back home. He closed his eyes against the sounds of gunfire and frightened screams.

  “Okay. Well let me reach out to Hank anyway. He might have a spare agent. Call you in the morning?”

  “Sure.” The call ended and so too had the news, which meant he couldn’t get any more information on the attack. The urge to go down to the theater and chat with security, flash around his credentials, nearly had him on his feet. He kicked off his cowboy boots instead. No. He was a fool to think that he could take on this mission. His last one had gone south because his client hadn’t listened to him. And he’d nearly gotten himself killed because of it. Sure, princes of small European countries visiting Yellowstone had nothing on the beautiful singer whose face had been on the news. It didn’t matter. He was taking a break, seeing if this was what he really wanted. He’d come straight out of the military, found the Brotherhood Protectors, and thought it’d work out. Until that mission it had been.

  Did he really want to get back out there? Tomorrow he’d be taking his boat down to one of the lakes and spending the day fishing. Then maybe he’d go to Bass Pro Shops and do a bit of shopping. He was even contemplating going out to camp for a few days. All of that would be interrupted if he took an assignment. Case sighed. And yet, what was it his grandpa used to say? When you fell off the horse you needed to get back on? Perhaps taking this assignment would be exactly what he needed—a chance to get back on the security horse and prove that he could overcome a fouled up mission. Certainly Hank had said he’d never blamed Case. The client had been safe; there hadn’t been any collateral damage. Even the client said he hadn’t blamed him and that he’d hire the Brotherhood Protectors again. Well, at this point, he had to wait to hear from either Johnny or Hank.

  He went to the corner and lifted the guitar case to the bed. Opening it, he stared at the light colored wood, marred with only a few scuffs considering that the instrument had literally been around the world, then lifted the guitar into his lap. It never failed. No matter where he was or what was going on, as soon as his fingers touched the wood, he felt as if he’d come home. That this, not security, not being in the military, nothing else, had been what he’d been born to do. He breathed deeply, ridding his thoughts of old arguments and old wounds and began to play a few chords. Within moments his mind stilled, and the notes began to flow.

  Rain turned to her manager, Roddie James, on the video chat for what seemed like the eighteenth time and shook her head. “No. I don’t care that Treble Security is the best. I can handle this. He was a drunk. That’s all.” She refused to wince as she gently used a facial cloth to remove blush from her cheek. Ugh. She hated stage makeup, caking it on like she was frosting a dessert. For a drunk he’d packed a hell of a left hook. Never mind that her songs of female empowerment o
ften pissed off old boyfriends and asshole bosses. She’d made her career her way, and she’d continue to do that. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t dealt with situations like this before.

  Roddie shook his head. “I can’t be there all the time to protect you. We’ve got security, but no one is with you all the time.”

  “And I like it that way.” She paused because somewhere in the hotel, maybe a room or two down from hers, someone was doing a damn good Garth Brooks imitation and she admired the skill and the low sexy voice. “I’m here for the night. I’m fine. I’ll order room service or delivery if it makes you feel any better.”

  “Have Scott get it for you, okay?” He stepped closer to the camera, then stopped at the sight of the bruise, now fully revealed. “Honey that has got to hurt. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the doctor?”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake,” Rain turned, thankful she’d changed into a t-shirt and ratty jeans since Roddie insisted on this video call, never mind that she was standing in her bathroom in her motel room. “Go. I’m fine. I’ve hurt myself worse falling off of horses. Besides, if anyone comes, I have my little and deadly, okay?” She grinned at her own nickname for her small .380 pistol she kept in her purse. It’d scared off more than a few stalkers. Tall, blonde, and busty, apparently she hit all the right notes for drunk cowboys, and she longed for the days when she could slap on a ball cap and some sunglasses to get out and just be normal for once. But once her song had debuted at number one on the country charts and she started selling out big arenas, those days had ended. She’d come here to Branson to try and live a bit more normally, at least for a few weeks. Her run would be over at the end of the month and then she’d probably go back home for a while. Claim she was working on another record.

  Roddie stepped back and held up his hands, his white dress shirt stretching across his broad chest. His mirrored sunglasses gave him a Miami Vice look that was a little out of date. “I got it. I’m going to a business dinner. Text me if you need anything. And make Scott get the food. He’s right next door.”

  “I know. And I will.” Frankly she worried Scott was getting a bit too handsy, a bit too overbearing. But he’d also been the one to recommend Treble Security. Roddie had vouched for them as well. Maybe she ought to give them a call. Two weeks. Three tops. Then she could go home.

  Roddie ended the call and for a moment she savored the sound of the music. Of course one thing she’d learned is that around her, everyone thought she could make them a star. This was different. She heard it in the voice, the sound of someone playing just for the love of the music. She contemplated getting her guitar, the acoustic one. The electric one was back at the theater under lock and key.

  She finished washing all the makeup off her face, wincing at the sight of the bruise. Son of a bitch, that’d hurt. Maybe by tomorrow, it’d fade a bit, maybe a lovely shade of purpley green. Maybe she’d coordinate her outfit with it. A bubble of laughter emerged from her throat. Now that the shock of the attack, and the adrenaline, had worn off, all she wanted to do was sleep.

  Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, not recognizing the number. This was her personal line though, so she answered. “Hello,”

  “Hello, Ms. Chowden? This is Johnny Moon from Treble Security. Your manager said it was okay to call.”

  Well at least he’d given his credentials. And of course Roddie would say it was okay to call her at this private line. “Yes. We were just talking about your company. You heard about the incident.” She refused to call it an attack. That gave it too much weight, like someone had planned it. “I’m sure it was an isolated occurrence, but my manager is insistent that I have some security for the last weeks of my residency here.”

  “It never hurts to have extra security on staff, especially for someone so bright in the public eye such as yourself. There’s an agent I know in the area. If you’re amenable, I’d like to set up a meeting tomorrow. Perhaps lunch?”

  Meeting someone wouldn’t commit her to anything. Thinking of Roddie’s instructions that she didn’t leave the hotel, she offered to book a room here, maybe nothing as large as a meeting room, but something so she wouldn’t have to have him invade her personal space. She suggested a time.

  “That sounds like it will work out. If you have an email address, I’ll send over some basic information. I’ll be available during the meeting if you have questions. I look forward to working with you Ms. Chowden.”

  Immediately this man, Johnny Moon, put her at ease, and she agreed to the meeting. “Call me Rain,” she replied. “And I’ll look forward to it.” She ended the call and fingered a few chords to counterpart the music she still heard. And when she went to sleep, it was his voice that she heard in her dreams.

  Chapter 2

  The big guy standing outside the room indicated that he’d come to the right place. If he’d known he’d checked into the same hotel where Rain Chowden was staying, well he might not have protested so hard when Johnny offered him the job. In the end, Hank had placed him on inactive status at his request so he hired on with Treble for this gig—no hard feelings on either side. It was good. A fresh name. A fresh start. A supposedly easy job for three weeks and then see how he felt about things. Johnny said his goal here was just to meet Rain, see if they could work together. If that worked out, then Johnny would handle all of the business stuff.

  “She’s inside,” the big guy said. “Go on in.”

  Case assessed him as efficient, capable. There was only one way into the conference room, and he guarded it. Though he didn’t see any weapons, that didn’t mean much. His own was concealed. Whether he was hired just for here or a long-time employee, Case couldn’t tell and that wasn’t a bad thing at all. It’d give people less of an edge, less of a way to get additional information. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  Rain wore little makeup, the vivid bruise on her cheek obvious. Her blonde hair had been pulled back with a silver and turquoise clip at the nape of her neck, the strands tumbling down her back. Her blue western shirt looked designer, and she didn’t stand when he entered.

  “I’m Case Trenton from Broth—Treble Security,” he said almost slipping up over the name of the firm.

  “I’m sure you know who I am. You’re Johnny’s—Mr. Moon’s agent.”

  “I can guarantee you he’d prefer to be called Johnny, and yes. We go back a long ways.” He took a seat across from her. “I’m afraid I do need to know your side of what happened and what you hope I can do for you.”

  A smile curved the corner of her coral lips at his turn of phrase. “Of course.” She gestured to a tray that held bottles of water. “Take a beverage if you want one. I wasn’t sure how long the meeting would go.”

  “Thank you.” He grabbed a bottle of water as she began her story.

  She mentioned coming out of her nightly concert, thinking only of heading to her bus to freshen up before coming to the hotel. She could sleep on it, she said, but frankly she was a bit tired of being on the road and wanted to have a home base somewhere, so they’d selected this hotel not far from the theater. She explained that a man, they’d thought he was a drunk at first, came out of the shadows and grabbed her. She fought him off, but she didn’t have her purse on her so didn’t have a gun, and her manager thought it wouldn’t be good PR if the paparazzi got a picture of her waving around a pistol. Her security stepped in, but not before he’d landed a punch and said something about she needed to learn a woman’s place. She shuddered as she spoke, and he held up his hand.

  “I think I heard enough. Thank you. Was the security from the venue or your own?”

  “Venue and yeah I wasn’t impressed with them either.”

  He smiled at her clipped remark. “No other incidents that it would be helpful for me to know?”

  “No. There’s always the assholes on social media. I’m giving their women ideas. I’m not American. Blah blah fucking blah.” Rain rolled her eyes and grinned. “But don’t we all have to deal with that?”

/>   He shrugged, not being one for hanging out on social media. “I guess. Yeah. The guy at the door. He yours?”

  “Scott? Yeah.” The way she spoke made him think there was something there. As if he, like the venue security, had been late to the party on the drunk guy.

  “Well Johnny gave me his idea of the scope of the project. I’d like to hear yours.” Case listened as she spoke, thinking the longer this conversation went on, the more he liked her. He’d known better than to peg her as some spoiled diva. He’d met enough clients in his day not to do that. And still, her down-to-earth nature really drew him in.

  When the conversation finished, Rain stood. “I need to get ready. But you’re hired. And you’ll be in charge. I’ll let Scott and Roddie know. Meet me at my bus at 6?”

  “Will do. Thank you.” He stood and shook her head, not surprised when sparks passed between them. He followed her out of the room thankful to see Scott take his place on the side and just a little behind her. They went to the elevator bank. He turned in the opposite direction and pulled out his phone. Not only should he let Johnny know, but he wanted to do a little reconnaissance work of his own. By the time he made it back to the elevator bank they were gone and he already had a list of questions, because right now there was no one guarding her bus. He went back to his room, called the local police department to find out what sort of security they provided for venues, then called the theater. By the time he was done, he had an image of a town here they thought nothing ever happened there and most of the talent took care of things on their own. That meant there were security holes everywhere and he had his work cut out for him if he were going to patch them up.