The Guardian: DARYL (Cover Six Security, #2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Too damn bad he didn't give a shit. Yes, clients were off-limits; sleeping with them was the best way to have things go sideways in a heartbeat.

  Tough shit. Kelsey wasn't a client. She was—

  Daryl frowned. He didn't know what the hell she was, but she definitely was not a client. Regardless, Chaos was right—sleeping with her had probably been a mistake. Not because he was helping her, but because they'd done it for the wrong reasons.

  To be more precise, she had done it for the wrong reasons. Daryl had slept with her because he wanted her. Because he hadn't stopped wanting her since that night in the Caribbean. And how fucked up was that? It had been a one-night stand—wasn't supposed to be anything but that. Yeah, right. That's why he'd been obsessing over her for the last three months. So when she asked—

  Bullshit. He couldn't blame anything on her. He knew exactly what she had been trying to do: use him to forget. Use him to feel human. Use him so she could feel normal. Yeah, he knew exactly what she'd been doing. If he had been any kind of gentleman, he would have turned her down. Pushed her away.

  But he hadn't—because he wanted her. It was as simple as that.

  As complicated as that. Because, fuck it, Chaos was right. It had been a bad idea. Daryl had known it right from the start. Had known it would lead to a whole separate set of issues, especially when Kelsey found out she wasn't going with them when they left in the morning to get her daughter.

  He pushed away from Mac, grabbed the small file from the counter and moved to the table. Four sets of eyes followed him and he knew without looking that all four men were trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing. They'd find out soon enough.

  He tossed the file on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. "We have plans to make. Let's get to it."

  One by one, the four men joined him—Chaos last. He met the other man's chilled stare, returned it with one of his own. Neither of them said a word—there was nothing to say, not when they both knew the other had been wrong.

  Daryl opened the file, pulled out the small map and the information on the children's home. "The home is here, not quite an hour outside the city. The closest airport is right outside Portales so we'll fly in, rent a car, and drive the rest of the way. We should be in and out in four hours, tops."

  Mac leaned forward, studied the paperwork, looked up. "Who's we?"

  "I'm taking Wolf." Daryl held up his hand to stop the questions before they could start. "He's the least physically intimidating—"

  "Hey—"

  Daryl cut off the man's objections with a quick look. Why the hell was he even arguing? With his shaggy blonde hair and ridiculous dimples, Wolf looked like a fucking surfer-boy-turned-cover-model and he knew it. "This isn't up for discussion."

  Chaos leaned back in the chair, folded his arms in front of him. "That sounds too damn easy."

  "Because it is. All we're doing is getting the girl, bringing her back here. Nothing complicated about it." Daryl stared at the papers spread out in front of him, finally shook his head. "It's the next part that gets complicated as fuck."

  "What's that?"

  Daryl looked over at Boomer, met the man's steady gaze. "Flushing out Grady Byrne and putting an end to this once and for all."

  Boomer shook his head. "Yeah, Chaos was right earlier: you've lost your fucking mind. What's stopping his second-in-command from stepping up and taking his place? How does eliminating Byrne take care of anything?"

  Daryl nodded at Chaos. "You want to fill them in?"

  "I did some more digging when we got back this morning. Turns out that Grady Byrne isn't as well-liked by his minions as he probably thinks. His entire organization has been dwindling the last few years—they're nowhere near as powerful as they used to be. I reached out to a few contacts and learned that his command staff—or whatever the fuck they like to call themselves—wouldn't mind seeing Byrne meet with an accident."

  "Then why the fuck haven't they made that accident happen themselves?"

  "Apparently that would make them look bad and create dissension in the ranks."

  "Are you fucking shitting me?"

  Chaos held his hand up, palms out, warding off Mac's question with a careless shrug. "I'm just telling you what my contacts told me."

  Nobody bothered to ask Chaos who his contacts were. They didn't need to know—and the man wouldn't have told them anyway. Chaos had moved in the darkest of circles before joining Cover Six Security, had seen and done shit the rest of them couldn't even guess at—which was saying a hell of a lot, considering their combined backgrounds.

  "Byrne does have a few loyal followers but not more than a handful. I don't think we'd run into any issues if they all happened to disappear." Chaos looked around the table. "That is, if we want to go that route."

  "Yeah, I'm fine with that." Boomer nodded then looked at Daryl. "The question is, how do you flush the bastard out?"

  Daryl met the other man's eyes and said nothing. He didn't need to, not when he knew each man could see precisely what he had planned in the steel of his gaze, in the set of his jaw.

  "Jesus." Chaos swore softly, shook his head. "That's fucking cold, Zeus. And you wonder why I called you out on fu—"

  "Enough. If you have a better idea, I'm all ears." Daryl glanced around the table, hoping—praying—that one of them would jump in with something better. But all four men were silent.

  Fuck. He didn't want to use Kelsey as bait. Wouldn't, if he could think of any other way. But he didn't see any other way to do it. He just needed to use her to draw Byrne out, just long enough to set up a meeting. Kelsey would never be in any danger. He'd keep her safe—they all would.

  But fuck, as far as plans went, he didn't like it. There were so many things that could go wrong.

  Fine. They'd just have to make sure they were ready for anything.

  Daryl ignored every single misgiving that sent chills skipping along his spine and turned back to Chaos. "Have you been able to figure out how they found the cabin?"

  "No. There's nothing. I did a search under Davis' name, under any possible aliases. I even used your girl's name. Her mother's name. Hell, even her daughter's, as well as the baby-daddy's name. Nothing. I have no idea how he did it, but there is no record anywhere of Davis—or any possible relative of his—ever owning property in West Virginia. Or anywhere else for that matter."

  "The cabin isn't my dad's."

  Daryl's stomach clenched with some unnamed emotion when Kelsey turned the corner of the hallway and stepped into the kitchen. Their gazes met, held for a long minute—long enough that he was able to figure out what was causing those knots in his gut.

  Guilt. Pure, simple, guilt.

  How long had she been standing around the corner, unseen? How much had she heard?

  Maybe not all of it—but enough. He saw that much in her gaze as she watched him. That wasn't all he saw in those green-ringed eyes staring back at him.

  Anger. Surprise. Hurt.

  Betrayal.

  He started to stand, stopped himself at the last second. There was nothing he could say to explain himself. Certainly not in front of the four men who were currently shifting in their chairs, looking like they suddenly wished they could be anywhere else but here. And even if they weren't here—if it was just the two of them—Daryl wasn't sure he'd explain. Wasn't sure he could, not enough to remove those incriminating emotions from her eyes.

  "What do you mean, it's not your dad's cabin?" The calm question came from Chaos—the only one of them who seemed to be able to focus at the moment. Kelsey's gaze held Daryl's for a second longer then slid to the other man's.

  "Just that—it's not my dad's. The cabin belonged to Theresa's husband, before he died."

  "Who the fuck is Theresa?"

  If Chaos's language surprised her, she showed no signs of it. She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the wall with a shrug. "Theresa Martin. She's a friend of my dad's."

  No, they were more than just
friends.

  And fuck. Why hadn't Daryl thought of it before?

  He turned to Chaos, who was already opening his laptop and hitting keys. "Find out how easy it is to trace the cabin to her. Boomer, get Ninja on the phone. Tell him to standby. I may need him to go wheels-up."

  "On it. Destination?"

  "Just outside St. Louis."

  Boomer nodded, already heading to the living room as he punched in numbers on his phone. Kelsey pushed away from the wall, the anger and betrayal on her face morphing to panic and fear.

  "Do you think Theresa's in danger? Do you think—"

  "I think she's fine. This is just a precaution." Daryl forced a conviction to his voice that he didn't feel and hoped like hell he wasn't lying.

  "Got it." Chaos's voice was grim, the words sharp. "Traces right back to her, no buffer at all."

  "Fuck. Dammit all to hell. Shit." Daryl pushed away from the table, issuing orders as he made a mental list of what he needed. "Chaos, see if you can figure out if anyone's accessed that information. I need to know who and when. Boomer, tell Ninja to get moving. I'll text him the info. Wolf, change of plans. We're leaving in ten."

  "Daryl—"

  He ignored the plea in Kelsey's voice, ignored the fear in her eyes as she watched him. He turned to Mac, didn't bother to hide the concern from his eyes when he spoke in a low tone. "I need you to take Kelsey, make sure she's safe."

  "Daryl—"

  He approached Kelsey, reached for her then dropped his hands when she jerked away from him. Fine. He'd deal with that later—he had other priorities to take care of first.

  Like making sure everyone was safe, especially the woman currently staring at him with a mixture of anger and panic in her eyes.

  "Kelsey, I need you to go with Mac—"

  "No." She shook her head. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on. Is Theresa okay? Has something happened to her?"

  "She's fine." And Christ, he hoped he wasn't lying when he said that. "But I think Byrne's men were able to trace the cabin through her."

  "I don't understand. What does that mean?"

  "It means that if Byrne knows about her relationship with your father, he may have done a search on her name and found the cabin that way."

  "What do you mean, if and may? Is she in danger?"

  "I don't think so, no. But I'm sending one of my guys to be with her, just in case."

  Kelsey wrapped her arms tight around her middle and nodded. Some of the fear and panic left her eyes, edged out by anger.

  By suspicion.

  "And where are you going?"

  "I have something I need to do. You'll stay with Mac—"

  "No. You're lying."

  "Kelsey—"

  "I'm going with you when you get Paige."

  Dammit! How did she know? Had she heard? Or had she merely guessed? Did it matter? No, it didn't.

  Daryl tightened his jaw. Stepped closer and lowered his voice. "You're staying here—"

  "No, I'm not. You can use me as bait all you want, I don't care about that. I'll do whatever you need me to do to draw Grady out. But you are not getting Paige without me."

  Fuck! She had heard. And there wasn't a damn thing Daryl could do about it, nothing he could say to explain. Not here, in front of everyone. Not now.

  Maybe never.

  But that didn't change things. He shook his head, met her stubborn gaze with his own chilled one. "You're not going, Kelsey—"

  "She's my daughter—"

  "And I'll keep her safe—"

  "Like you kept your own daughter safe?"

  Daryl reeled under the impact of the words, the pain as sharp and as real as if she had taken a knife and plunged it into his chest. Silence filled the air around them, thick with tension.

  Thick with unasked questions.

  He ignored the questioning glances from the four men watching them. Ignored the regret filling Kelsey's eyes with unshed tears. She reached for him, dropped her hand before he could brush it away.

  "I didn't mean—"

  He turned away from her, moved down the hall with clipped, measured steps. "We leave in ten minutes."

  It took all his control not to slam the bedroom door behind him. He didn't even bother to close it, just simply moved to the closet and pulled out his go-bag, unzipped it to make sure he had everything he needed.

  But he wasn't seeing the contents of the bag—he was seeing a pair of tear-filled brown eyes.

  "Wanna stay, Daddy. Wanna stay with you."

  "I know, Bean. But you need to go with Mommy for right now. Just for a little bit. Then Daddy will come get you."

  "Promise?"

  "You're my Bean. Of course I promise. And Daddy never breaks his promise."

  Heavy steps pulled him from the painful memories. He didn't have to look to know who was standing in the doorway. It was Mac—and he must have wanted Daryl to know he was coming. If he hadn't, Daryl would have never heard him. For someone so damn big, the man could be as quiet and still as death when he wanted to be.

  "Chaos and Boomer already took off. Wolf is waiting outside."

  "Good." Daryl yanked the zipper of the bag closed. Stood there staring down at it. Didn't move. How the fuck could he move when he could barely fucking breathe?

  "I'm not going to ask what that was about."

  He sucked in a deep breath, felt some of the tightness in his chest ease. "Good, because it's none of your damn business."

  "Yeah, which is why what I'm going to say next will really piss you off." Mac stepped inside the room, gently closed the door. "You're too fucking close to this. Let me take Kelsey. We'll both go with Wolf, you stay here—"

  "Not happening."

  "Which part?"

  "All of it.

  "Care to tell me why?"

  "Kelsey stays here with you. I go with Wolf—"

  "Are you even listening to what you're saying? It's her daughter. Did you even stop to think what would happen when you got to this children's home? Do you honestly think they're just going to hand over a kid to some fucking strangers?"

  "They won't have any choice."

  "Yeah? And what are you going to do? Shoot the place up? Kidnap the damn girl?" Mac laughed, the sound rough and low. "Dammit, Daryl, what the hell is going on? Since when don't you fucking think before acting?"

  Daryl closed his eyes, forced his jaw to relax. Forced his hands to unclench. "Is that what you think?"

  "No—it's what I know. Who the hell is this woman to you?"

  "I told you—she's my old CO's daughter."

  "That you just happen to be sleeping with."

  "Slept. Past tense."

  "I hate to break this to you, buddy, but a few hours ago isn't past tense. And don't even try to tell me you just hadn't rolled out of bed with her when I got here. This is me you're talking to. I know better. Now who the hell is she?"

  Daryl finally turned around to face Mac—but he couldn't quite meet the other man's eyes. "If you think there's something more going on, you'd be wrong. We met after your wedding. Had one night together. I haven't seen her or talked to her since—not until I found her this morning."

  "Yeah, sure. That's why she seems to know a hell of a lot more about you than the rest of us." Mac ran a hand through his short hair, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You've been obsessing over this woman for the last three months. Don't fucking deny it."

  "If that's what you want to think—"

  "Stop with the bullshit. We've been through too much for that."

  "Then what the hell do you want me to do?"

  "I want you to fucking stop and think. I want you to admit you're too fucking close to all of this and let me go in your place."

  Daryl stepped toward him, stopped when he saw Mac tense and shift his weight forward, ready to go on the offensive. He blew out a deep breath, ran both hands over his face. "Would you have stayed back and let me handle things when TR was in trouble?"

  "That was diff
erent—"

  "The hell it was."

  "Yeah, it was. That fucking asshole already had TR. No way in hell would I have let anyone else go in—"

  "Yeah, exactly. Which is why you're staying back here. With Kelsey."

  "She needs to go—"

  "She's staying here." Daryl grabbed his pack, tossed it over his shoulder. "And I'm done with this discussion."

  Mac started to say something else but Daryl simply pushed past him and tore open the door. He stumbled to a stop, choked back an oath when he saw Kelsey standing at the end of the hallway, her own pack tossed over her shoulder. The blood froze in his veins when he saw the papers in her hand.

  The map—with the name and location of the children's home clearly marked on it.

  He met Kelsey's chilled gaze, swallowed back another oath when he saw the determination in her eyes.

  "I either go with you—or I get her by myself."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kelsey shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable—an impossible feat when she had so much nervous energy shooting through her.

  In a few short hours, she'd see her daughter. She'd be able to hold Paige in her arms. Hug her. Run her fingers through that mop of unruly auburn curls.

  Six months had gone by. Six long months. A lifetime to a five-year-old. Would she have grown? Yes, of course she would have. But how much? An inch? More? Had her hair grown in that time, or had someone trimmed it? Had Paige convinced whoever was taking care of her to chop it off? She had tried that once with Kelsey, insisting over and over that she wanted it cut short because the curls would get tangled in her face.

  Kelsey hoped not. She hoped whoever had been looking after her little girl refused to give into Paige's demands. But she could be so adamant sometimes, so stubborn—

  Had she started school? It was almost November now, she must have. Worry swept through Kelsey when she thought of Paige's education. Would her daughter be on the same level as the other children, or would she be behind? Kelsey had tried so hard when they were on the run, teaching Paige her letters and numbers and colors and shapes. They had both started teaching her those things—her and Blaine—long before Kelsey had been forced to take her daughter and run. Kelsey had tried her best to keep up with everything. Paige was such an inquisitive child, always asking questions, thirsty for knowledge. Had it been enough?