Damned (SOBs Book 4)

by Irish Winters

  “Bree, huh?”

  Kruze ignored the innuendo. “Already talked with Sullivan.”

  “You’re on bodyguard duty, but you didn’t think to clear it with me.” Chance made that a statement. He was the Sin Boys team leader. Kruze should’ve, at least, run this operation by him.

  “Sorry about that, but I was already in DC after briefing Sullivan on this same scenario. Figured I was closer to New Jersey than you or Pagan. No big deal.” Kruze wasn’t about to tell Chance that he’d agreed to speak to Wayne’s group therapy patients, or that Bree was one of those patients. He’d never near the end of that.

  “No big deal, huh?”

  And Kruze was back at square one, dealing with yet another annoying family member, only this one was concerned instead of obnoxious. The need to tell Chance to mind his business was strong. Kruze opted for diversion instead. “Remember Alex Stewart? His TEAM?”

  “Sure, yeah. Alex runs a tight ship. What about him?”

  “Sullivan called him for an assist, and he’s sending two of his best agents and—” Kruze bit his tongue to keep from spilling the beans about Robin to Chance or letting Bree overhear the plan to split her family up. “Sullivan and I figured it’d be better this way.”

  “You’re splitting them up?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Good thinking. Need any help?”

  There was only one Sullivan safehouse north of NYC. Kruze didn’t need to spell it out. But now he wished he’d told Bree about splitting up her family. Those were daggers in her eyes. Sharp, deadly, pale-blue daggers. All aimed at him. Had she figured it out as quickly as Chance?

  “No, but keep your ears on. Berfende’s no dummy. If he called Bree’s parents’ landline yesterday, he may have more resources than we thought.”

  “Copy that, brother. I’ll let you know what I find out. No surprises, okay?”

  “Understood.” Kruze rolled his eyes. If Chance only knew the surprise Kruze was keeping from him. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. You bet. Never been better.”

  “Kruze, really. What’s wrong? Something’s going on. I can hear it in your voice. Talk to me.”

  Never. “No problem I can’t handle. I’ll check with you once we hit the safe house and—”

  “I can be there in five hours if you need me. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I don’t and I won’t,” Kruze replied a little too quickly. He backtracked and added quietly, “Berfende’s just a pain-in-the-ass loose end. I should’ve taken him out in Turkey. I will now. Like I said, it’s just a job.”

  “You mean, before he hurts Bree Banks, the woman you rescued in Turkey? The woman you have feelings for? Feelings, Kruze. You care about this woman, I can tell. That’s what I’m hearing in your voice.” Chance always was an astute son of a gun.

  “I’m just doing the job Sullivan gave me.” And suddenly this conversation had gotten way too personal. It was time to back the ‘Kumbaya, my Lord’ train up. “Listen, we’re late. Call if you find something. I’ll be in touch.” Hurriedly, Kruze thumbed the END button on his cell and wished everyone would stay the fuck out of his business. Especially Chance. He had a wife and baby to take care of. They should be his first concern, no one else.

  “I’m just a job?” Bree asked, her voice soft and—sad?

  Oh, there was his jacket. On her lap. She was fingering it nervously. If it’d been a snake, it could’ve bitten him. Unless she bit him first. Kruze shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. Thankfully, they were at the rendezvous point, a busy truck stop outside Morristown, and he didn’t have to respond with anything but, “We’re here.”

  Stewart’s team was already there waiting. Damned if he hadn’t sent Walker Judge and his wife Persia to takeover guarding Robin and her grandparents. Walker was a Navy SEAL. His wife was either former CIA or FBI, Kruze wasn’t sure which. Didn’t matter. They both worked for Stewart now.

  Introductions and transferring Bree’s parents and Robin from one SUV to the other went smoothly. Robin took to Persia like they were old friends. That eased some of Kruze’s trepidation about having to tell Robin goodbye. Keeping her safe was paramount and dividing this family, leaving them with these specific guardians, was a sound decision.

  But when he held her in his arms for the last time, his world screeched to a full stop. He’d just met this little girl. Sending her away was hard. Too hard. He buried his nose in her hair, his palm pressed flat to her back, and her body snug against his chest. He could feel her tiny heartbeat. He could smell her breath. All the things he might never get to do again if this mission went sideways.

  Walker slapped a hand to his back. “On my honor, Kruze, we’ll keep everyone safe.”

  “I know you will, but…” If there were a way, he’d absorb this tiny soul, so he could keep her with him always. Bree and Robin were everything. To lose either of them was unimaginable. It’d kill him.

  When Robin squirmed, he knew he’d asked too much from a three-year-old. “Listen to Uncle Walker and Aunt Persia,” he told her.

  “She’ll be fine,” Persia said as she lifted Robin out of Kruze’s arms and harnessed her into the booster seat in the rear seat of The TEAM’s heavy-duty SUV.

  Robin giggled. She was excited to be going on another adventure, and she had no trouble chatting with everyone. Even the father who was telling his baby girl goodbye for his very first time. “Bye-bye, Mister Kruze!” she called out from between her doting grandparents.

  “Bye, baby girl.” Kruze blew her a kiss, trying to hold it together, but failing miserably. For the first time in his life he doubted another skilled operator. Walker and Persia weren’t parents. They had no idea of the treasure Kruze had just entrusted them with. His inner caveman bellowed to take her back. To hide her with her mother, somewhere. To keep her to himself. Who could protect them better?!

  Giggling, Robin pretended she caught his kiss, then blew one back to him. This little darling was in his heart to stay. Kruze waved and stepped back. Sending Robin and her grandparents away was the smart thing to do. Walker and Persia would die to save these three. Kee-rist, Kruze still wished he were twins, one to go with Robin, one to stay with Bree.

  “Bye Mommy! Love you!” Robin called out next.

  “Love you, too. Be a good girl for Nana and Grampa,” Bree called back, her voice strained. She hadn’t yet pitched a fit or even asked questions. Kruze hoped that was a good sign.

  “She’ll be fine,” Lark told Bree through her open window. “Call me if you can. I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you too, Mom and Dad. Keep my little girl safe and warm and—” Bree’s voice cracked.

  “This will be over soon, sugar,” Kruze murmured. Saying goodbye to the people she loved had to be tough, especially since Bree hadn’t been prepared for the separation. He was standing behind Bree, so he put both hands on her shoulders and tipped her shoulders against him.

  “Bye-bye, Mister Kruze!” Robin yelled again, waving both hands.

  “Bye, Robin!”

  At last, Walker gave Kruze a quick, two-fingered salute and drove away. And there it was again, that elusive something Kruze couldn’t seem to grab onto for longer than a night. That intangible thing Walker had with Persia. Kruze had worked with him before. That Alex had sent Walker and Persia to watch over Robin and her grandparents was damned good thinking. They were a strong, capable couple who worked well together, rescuing little ones caught up in the notorious sex trafficking in Southwest Asia.

  It still took everything he had before Kruze turned away from the scene that was tearing his heart apart. “You ready?” he asked Bree.

  She still stood in the middle of the busy truck stop parking lot, watching the SUV turn at the exit and leave her behind.

  “Bree?”

  “Yeah, umm…” She scrubbed her hands up and down her biceps, effectively distancing
herself from him. “I guess it’s just you and me then.” She made it sound more like a death sentence than an adventure.

  “Yup.” He let the P pop, then reached his arm out to her, his hand open, his fingers fluttering for her to take hold of him. “Just you and me, sugar. We should get going.”

  She didn’t touch him. Didn’t even look his way. “You should’ve told me sooner that you were splitting us up, that you were sending Robin and my parents away.”

  “It’s better this way.”

  “For who?”

  “For everyone. Let’s go.”

  Bree didn’t acknowledge Kruze, just turned toward her dad’s vehicle and said, “Let’s just get this job over with.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Saying goodbye to Robin frightened the heck out of Bree. What if she never saw her sweet baby girl again? She couldn’t bear the thought. Losing Robin would be the end of her. Bree would never recover, and she wouldn’t be just broken. She’d be one of the walking dead.

  Kruze drove miles without either of them speaking. What could she say to bridge the chasm between them? As much as she wanted to love him, Kruze was right. She was just another job, and he was still the womanizer who’d walked out on her in Paris. He might adore his daughter, but he was best at short-term commitments. Like that one-night stand in Paris, which wasn’t much different than the amount of time they’d spent together in Turkey. Both were short-lived, fraught with recklessness, over and done. Lord, he hadn’t checked on her, not once since she’d been home. He hadn’t called to see if she was okay, not even while she’d been in the hospital. Why chase after someone who couldn’t be bothered to follow up on the woman he’d saved? The woman he’d gotten pregnant? As good as he was at his job, Kruze was careless with what mattered most—her heart.

  An argument had waged inside her head since the moment he’d tapped on her car last night. While Kruze was definite eye-candy, Bree needed more than just some handsome Navy SEAL to drop into her life, rescue her, then wave goodbye while he dashed away and left her behind. She needed a man, a real man, one who’d stay. While Kruze was all-male wrapped in a glorious, to-die-for body, he was still a playboy at heart. A lady killer. He was Peter Pan, one of the lost boys who never grew up.

  It was mid-afternoon when he finally pulled into the parking lot of a small airstrip and brought the vehicle to a full stop. No other cars were in the lot, and the airstrip only sported a single hangar. Except for the small aircraft waiting on the lonesome runway behind a chain-link barrier, the place was deserted.

  “What’s next?” Bree asked wearily. Stepping out of her dad’s vehicle, she snagged Kruze’s jacket before it got left behind.

  “We’re headed north. Leaving your dad’s ride here.” Kruze had his gear bag, another bag, and her backpack out of the vehicle. “Bruce will store it until we get back,” he said as he waved at whoever was in the plane. Had to be Bruce.

  “Is he a pilot?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Bruce Roman’s former Air Force. He was an F-16 pilot.”

  “How far north?” That seemed like something Kruze should’ve already told her.

  “Maine. You ready?”

  Bree stalled. “Maine? That’s so far from… everything.”

  “That’s the point. Where do you think Robin and your parents are?”

  “In a hotel?” That was where witnesses in protective custody ended up on TV. Of course, most of them died before the show ended, but—

  “Try again.” Kruze stuck his chin at the plane. “They’re on their way to New Mexico, sugar. Stewart’s taking them entirely out of the equation, same as I’m doing with you. The farther you and your family are from NYC and Berfende, if he’s even there, the better off you’ll be. Let’s hit it. Time’s wasting.”

  “But I was going back to work next week.”

  “And now you’re not. Move out.”

  Bree stopped walking. Tired of playing his game, she tipped her face to the sky, frustrated with everything. “This is all very high-handed of you, Mister Sinclair.”

  “Already told you, sugar. I’m an ass. Get used to it.”

  And enough! “You should’ve told me you were sending Robin with my parents. That… That… Never mind. This is my life you’re running. At least tell me what the plan is!”

  He back-stepped just enough to grab hold of her elbow and pull her forward and alongside him. “My plan is to keep you and Robin safe.”

  “I am not just a job!” And now her voice was shrill again.

  “You’re right, which is why we need to get moving.”

  What did that mean? Bree was barely keeping up with the pace he’d set, but there was no sense arguing. She hadn’t the strength, and Kruze was probably right. He was an ass, and she wasn’t up to the energy of New York City. She wasn’t ready to face Harvey Lantz, either. She needed more time and enough brain-power to dig into what had happened inside Turkey. The disquiet she’d felt then told her to trust her instincts now, that her boss had something to do with those rebels.

  Oddly, Lantz hadn’t reached out to her since she’d returned home. Yet he was the reason she’d accepted what should’ve been the single, most thrilling assignment of her life. He’d personally invited her to his office. Why hadn’t he sent anyone to personally check on her, to at least do a follow-up story? Most other networks had carried the news of her miraculous rescue by an unnamed former military operator. They wanted interviews. Why didn’t Lantz?

  All she’d received from anyone at USA Timeline was one email from Jocelyn, Lantz’s personal assistant, urging Bree to take as much time as she needed to recover. Lantz hadn’t even run the article she’d sent to Damon Vick. That Lantz could be so indifferent was too much to think about. Bree needed to do some investigative reporting before she confronted him. But to do that, she had to get her head back in the game.

  Numbly, she let Kruze steer her to the plane, still holding his jacket like some lovesick cheerleader tagging behind the hotshot quarterback. When he gestured her into the plane, Bree climbed aboard and sat directly in the seat behind the pilot, who, interestingly, stood up and left as soon as she settled in.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” Bruce ducked his head in acknowledgment on his way out. The plane only had the one door, which seemed unsafe to Bree. Shouldn’t there be another exit in case of emergency or fire or something?

  Too tired to think, she tucked her feet under the pilot’s seat and set Kruze’s jacket beside her. There were four more seats, plus the co-pilot and pilot seats. She twisted her knees to the side to give him more room.

  Still standing outside the plane, Kruze tossed her backpack in, then set his bags at her feet. Undoing the straps of one bag, he withdrew a worn, black leather double holster. Shrugging it over his shoulders, he pulled out two black pistols next and tucked them into the holster’s cups that were now located below his arms. A knife went into one of his boots, which she hadn’t noticed he was wearing until then. He strapped another holster around his thigh.

  He seemed to be arming himself by rote. By the time he finished, Kruze was a walking armory that didn’t include, what Bree assumed, were the dozen or so pre-loaded magazines he’d stuffed in his pockets. But Lord, watching him strap on all those weapons was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. This handsome man knew precisely what he was doing, and those lethal weapons were merely extensions of himself. He was like the guy in RoboCop, that old cyberpunk action film she’d never watched because she’d thought shows like that were juvenile. Her dad loved it, though. She might have to dig up a copy and give it a second chance.

  “You need all those guns?” she asked, licking her dry lips at the totally masculine spectacle at her side. Why did Kruze arming himself trigger her innermost feminine responses? She was no helpless ninny, and he was no caveman. Err… Well… Maybe he was.

  “Boy Scout motto, always be prepared,” he answered with a cocky grin. “Works for SEALs, too.”

 
“Why? Are we going into a warzone?”

  “Sure as hell hope not.” He held out a small, pearl-handled gun, grip first. “Want one? You never know when it’ll come in handy.”

  Bree shook her head, her palms up. “No thanks. I’ll leave the killing to you.”

  He hadn’t stopped grinning. “You’re sure?” There was that bright-eyed, wide-open look on his face again. His laugh lines had turned into sunrays. She could’ve sat there and watched him all day. There was mischief in those eyes, especially when his hair fell over his face. But there was temptation, too.

  “Positive. You’re the one who’s protecting me, remember?”

  “Oh, sugar, how could I forget you?” The sly way he said that sounded like a come-on, and those cool greens were sucking her in, like they always did. Man, this guy had a lot of nerve. It had to stop.

  “Easy.” Bree focused on fastening her harness, instead of how sexy Kruze looked smiling and handling all those deadly weapons. “You’ve never had a problem forgetting me before.”

  That brought the lighthearted banter to a dead stop. Or so Bree thought. Suddenly, his wide body was inside the plane with her. One hand pushed her back into her molded seat, his mouth was in her ear, his breath hot, and his other hand squeezed her knee.

  “That’s the problem, sugar. I never forgot you,” he whispered hoarsely, his too-long-for-Navy bangs hanging in his face. “Tried, but couldn’t. Yeah, I might not’ve recognized you in Turkey, but what the hell did you expect? You were in pretty bad shape then. Your blue eyes were black, and your peaches-and-cream complexion was mottled with bruises instead of sprinkled with cinnamon freckles. You’d dyed your hair this disgusting dish-water blonde, and you were thin as a rail, for fuck sakes. You looked nothing like the pretty redhead I remembered, and it was dark as shit in that cave.”

  “You had a flashlight,” she reminded him, her heart throbbing at the lethality of his presence. Kruze seemed so much larger when he was angry. Lord, she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, then slap him, then kiss him. Then slap him again.