Credits and Copyright
** Cover photo credit: Jenn LeBlanc / Illustrated Romance
*Cover design: Barb VanderWagen
Edited by Melissa Jackson
© Annette Stephenson All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Thank you
Thank you, reader, for picking up this book and giving it a try. Thank you to my friends and coworkers who listened to my daily word-count updates. Who also got to be sounding boards for ideas as they popped into my head. Thanks to my Grandma P for teaching me to sew. Thank you to Grandma M for not thinking I was crazy for doing this. Thank you, Bets, for helping me with the names—means the world. Lastly, thank you, Keith, my wonderful husband. Your thoughts and ideas are always helpful. Your support and encouragement through it all was perfect. I love you.
Chapter 1
Ammo
“Hello,” I said. I knew it was Mary. She was calling from the burner we gave her. Eve had been rescued four days ago. I wondered why she was calling.
“Hello. I know I was only supposed to call if I’m in trouble. I’m not, but I really wanted to know how Eve is. How everything played out? If everyone is okay?” Mary sounded nervous.
“She’s fine. She and Dean are getting married. Everything worked out just fine and none of our guys were hurt,” I said. It was really thoughtful of her to call.
“Oh, that’s good. I am really glad to hear that,” Mary said. She seemed relieved.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Mary?” I was glad she had called. I thought she was a pretty woman.
“Yeah, I was just worried.” She seemed nervous again. I really was not good with women. I kept my distance from them and just worried about weapons and training. But now I wanted to know more about Mary.
“Are you better now?” I didn’t want her to go, but I didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah. It was nice talking to you.” I could tell she was smiling.
When I had given the burner, I had programmed my number to be hidden, “Would you like my number so maybe we can talk again sometime?” Now it was my turn to be nervous.
“I would like that,” she said with a cute little laugh. I could imagine her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. I texted her my number.
“Call whenever you want. I just texted it to you. If I don’t answer, just leave a message and I’ll call you back. Sometimes I’m working and I won’t be able to answer.” I didn’t want her to think I would ignore her.
“I understand. I don’t answer when I’m with clients. I think it’s rude.” She did get it. “I will let you go. Thank you for talking with me.”
“Okay, talk to you soon, Mary.” I was not ready for her to hang up, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Talk to you soon,” she said and then was gone.
I turned off the screen to my phone and leaned back against the locker. I was in the armory in the subbasement of Forces Security. I had been organizing some of the equipment we had used when rescuing Eve. I had helped Huntsman get her back from the Madman—Uberto Durando Senior. Hunt had taken him out and gotten his girl back. They were planning their lives and getting married. I was thirty-three and knew more about weapons and styles of fighting than I did about women. I had never met Mary in person. She had been hired by the Madman to alter the clothes he bought Eve. We had used Mary to get intel from inside the house so we could get Eve out.
I had watched Mary to see if she could help us. She was blonde; her hair had many different shades of blonde to it. Her eyes were brown and very expressive. She was of an average weight and height but had curves in all the right places. I had seen her carry around her sewing machine. I knew she had strength. She had a bubbly personality and always had a smile on her pretty face. I really loved that smile. Her teeth were almost perfect, but there was one tooth that was crooked, and it made her so endearing.
I felt my phone vibrate and looked down at it. It was Mary texting me a smiley face. I chuckled. I pocketed my phone and went back to cleaning and organizing the weapons and equipment we used to get Eve back.
I had worked for Forces Security for ten years. Domino had started it when he was injured and forced out of the Deltas about thirteen years ago. Domino had lost the use of his legs. He had been medically discharged but not ready to give up the rush of the missions. So, he had done what some Special Forces Operatives did: started his own security company. He did it in his hometown of Chicago. He had approached me when I was getting medically discharged from the SEALs. I had been injured one too many times and my ankle was now held
together with screws and plates. It didn’t bother me much anymore—only when we were going to get a good rain.
My phone vibrated again. This time it was Domino. We had a new client and I needed to go upstairs and meet him. I was pretty much done. I would stop on my way up and wash my hands. I didn’t mind sitting in with Domino when working with the clients. We would compare notes after they left and figure out the best plan of action for their needs. Time to get to work.
Chapter 2
Mary
Ever since Dean had come looking for Eve and left me that burner, I had been wondering who would answer. I had been wondering about Eve and if Dean got her before Mr. Durando could hurt her. It was nice to finally have those answers. I had really liked Eve, the little we got to talk. She was a unique person. I was glad that Mr. Durando had not survived his encounter with Dean. He had been losing his mind for the past four years. While the money was good, I didn’t know how to tell him no. I didn’t want to deal with his crazy.
I owned my own business, Tailormade by Mary. I was a tailor, seamstress, and dressmaker to the northern suburbs of Chicago. It was also called the North Shore. Whatever you wanted to call it, these people I worked for had money. I would go to their houses and alter their clothes for them. I would make dresses for their daughters for homecoming or prom. Fix wedding dresses the morning of the wedding since the bride somehow found something wrong and was having a meltdown over it. I enjoyed my work. I loved helping people and seeing them feel confident in themselves because they looked good in their clothes.
I was meeting a new client in an hour. He was new to the area and had some new suits that needed tailoring. I had set the appointment for 10:30 in the morning. I didn’t have a problem meeting men in their homes; I had taken a few self-defense courses over the years. I was a single woman. I had to know how to protect myself from bad situations. But even with that knowledge, I felt uneasy about this client. It was nothing I could pinpoint, just a feeling.
I wanted to talk to someone. I didn’t keep friends. The only one who stuck around was Rosa. She was my neighbor and a restaurant owner around the corner. She knew my secret about cooking, and she kept me fed. The clerks at the fabric store did not count. I never saw any of them outside of the fabric store. I was just another customer to them. I didn’t have many successful dates. The men I had tried to date never worked out.
I ended up calling the only number in the burner phone that Dean had left with me. The voice that answered me on the burner was deep and a little rough, like he didn’t talk much. He had a nice laugh and seemed to be a little nervous on the phone. He didn’t sound like a young kid, so I thought it was cute that he was nervous talking to a woman. I was glad I got his number. I wanted to talk to him again. I would need to have some things to talk about when I called though—he seemed to not know what to talk about. Hopefully I could find out more about him. His name would be a good start. I laughed at m
yself. Here I was thinking about a guy I knew nothing about other than his voice, when I needed to get myself ready to go.
I got to the Winnetka address the new client, Mr. Greyson, had given me. It was not very far from my house in Evanston. I had about five minutes to pull myself together. I thought about sending a text to—well, what was I going to call him? I didn’t have his name. Maybe I should start there.
“Hope you have a good day. I’m about to start mine. I didn’t catch your name.”
I sent the text and got out of my car. I collected my things and went up to the door. I rang the bell. I waited a few moments. My machine was heavy, so I set it down next to me on the step while I waited. I was thinking I should ring the bell again when the door opened. “Hello, Mr. Greyson?”
“Yes? Are you Mary from Tailormade?” a middle-aged white-haired man with tortoiseshell glasses asked. He had most of his body behind his door.
“Yes. May I come in?” I asked, picking up my machine. I hoped he would open the door a little wider so I could get in with the machine.
“Please. I’m not sure where you would like to set up,” he said as I walked in. The house was designed so you walked right into the living room. It opened to a dining room and kitchen. There were stairs going up and doors to my left—I guessed an office or den, possibly a bathroom
“The dining table would be fine. There’s plenty of light in there. I have a tablecloth I can lay down to protect your table.” I found most clients appreciated that I cared about their belongings. “If that doesn’t work, you can show me other places.” I had a few ladies who had desks brought into spare rooms or their closets just for my use.
“Oh no, the dining room would be fine,” he said as he led me to the table. I put my machine on the floor and opened my case. I pulled out the tablecloth and laid it down. I set my machine on it and used my own extension cord to plug my machine in. I turned it on because I wanted it to warm up before I used it. I took my measuring tape, pins, and chalk from my bag. He stood a distance away from me with his arms crossed, staring at me.
“How are you doing today, Mr. Greyson?” I asked, trying to make small talk with him. He was slim to the point of skinny. He was on the taller side, maybe five ten. He was fair-skinned and had icy blue eyes. He was wearing a button-down shirt and some slacks. They fit him well, though the shirt seemed loose.
“I’m good. Good. Let me bring the suits down now that you have a place set up.” He started to walk away. “The third door on the left is a bathroom if you need it, and there’s water and some snacks in the fridge.” He turned and went upstairs.
“Thank you,” I called after him. I didn’t need anything. But it was nice to be offered. I looked around the first floor. It was done tastefully in grays and whites with dark hardwood floors. There were lots of windows on the right side of the house, letting in all kinds of light and overlooking his side yard. He was in the part of Winnetka not too far from the lake. The house overall had been updated and upgraded with lots of high-end finishes. It was all very nice but felt empty and cold to me. Like it was not lived in.
“Here they are. I had these made, but they were off my old measurements and don’t fit. I was sick and lost weight.” He handed me the suits. There were four of them—one navy, a black, a charcoal, and one a subtle pinstripe on charcoal.
“I’m sorry to hear you were sick.” I gave him back the navy one. “If you would put this one on, we’ll see what we need to do.”
He took it and went to the bathroom to change. I pulled out my navy thread and bobbin for the machine. I looked through my grays to see if I had a charcoal to match.
“As you can see, it’s big,” he said from behind me.
I startled. I had not heard him come back in the room. “Sorry, I do see. Well, let’s get started.” I had him hold up his arms. I pinned in places, measured, and pinned more. I worked on the pants too. While the length was correct, the waist had to come in. Even the legs had to come in. They were too wide. I had him take off the jacket and handed him the next suit to change into. “Before you go, did you have any other shirts you needed me to alter? This does look a bit big on you.”
“I have some smaller ones on the way already,” he said, turning to go change in the bathroom.
I sat down and started taking the stitches out of the jacket so I could take in the darts and seams.
“This one seems a little better than the navy,” he said.
This time I had heard him move into the room. “The jacket does, but the pants almost seem worse.” I got to work and pinned his pants, then moved to the jacket. I put some pins in and then handed him the next suit. I put that jacket aside and went back to working on the navy jacket.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” He walked back in the room with a bottle of water. I could feel his eyes on my back as I worked.
“No, I’m fine. It looks like this one is just as bad as the navy.” I pinned everything and handed him the charcoal pinstripe. He went to change, and I went back to the navy jacket. It would be ready for him to try on when he got back. I set to work on the navy pants. With no lining in them, it was easier to work on.
“This one fits the best. It was also my favorite of this batch.” He did look very nice in this fabric. He seemed very nice, but I still felt unnerved by him. I had no idea what was causing it. Maybe I was a little nervous, but that was to be expected upon the first-time meeting someone. He did spend a lot of time watching me; it made me feel uncomfortable.
“This fabric is very complementary on you. And the fit is better. Let me pin a little and check the fit of the pants.”
I pinned a little more. I was able to get the suits altered and finished for him relatively quickly. I was on my way home by three.
I checked my phone and I didn’t have any missed calls or texts. I was bummed. I drove home and figured I would work on a quilt I had been piecing together for a while. Rosa would drop my dinner off later.
Chapter 3
Ammo
“So, what do you think?” Domino asked. I heard him but I was seeing red. This case brought back all the horrible things from sixteen years ago. I was working very hard to control my temper, to control my actions. I wanted to go and tear the target apart with my bare hands. I held onto the table in front of me. My knuckles were white from the strain I was putting on them. It would just help to know who the target was.
“Ammo. I know this hits home for you, but we need you to be here with us. We have to do everything by the book, so he’ll rot in jail,” Domino said, trying to soothe me.
“He won’t last a night in jail. Someone will take him out the moment he steps foot in it,” Gena said with a snort. “Ammo, we’ll get him. You know we will.”
I started to work my fingers loose from the grip I had on the table. I wanted to pace and rage. I wanted to pick up my chair and throw it. I wanted to do anything that was not sit here and talk. I looked at my fingers, telling them to let go.
“Ammo come on. Talk to us,” Hack said.
Hack was Domino’s computer guru. He had been a hacker since he was a child. He was also Domino’s cousin, and only wanted to put his skills to good use. Domino was the epitome of a good guy. He cared deeply about this country and its people. He wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves. He then went around hiring the best operatives and support staff he could find. His cousin was one of them.
Gena was another. She was Domino’s assistant, she made sure everything ran smoothly. She made sure everyone had what they needed so they could be successful. She was in her normal jeans and Converse tennis shoes. I worked with her a lot, making sure I had everything I needed to keep the teams trained, outfitted, and armed.
That was my job: the tactical and physical training of the operators. I had to keep them sharp and up-to-date with everything new that was coming out. I made sure all their gear was in perfect working order and they had every weapon they could need for every mission we did. We took protection,
bodyguard-type jobs, set up security systems, and performed rescues for kidnapped persons and hostages. We also did investigations.
We had a computer programmer. Her name was Binary. She always had a crazy hair color or colors in her blonde hair. Today she had purple, red, and orange. She tended to stay quiet. Right now, though, she looked like she wanted to murder something.
Domino had three teams, he was working on a fourth and had alternates who worked on a more part-time basis. We were always busy, and Domino never advertised. It was all word of mouth. This client was not a regular client. He was a Chicago police detective who we worked with now and then. He’d hit a dead-end and needed help. He’d come to us because what he’d found was bigger than he was prepared to handle. He could just have handed it off to the FBI, but they were so busy with backlogs of work, and this could not wait.
“It’s him,” I growled. I wanted this target dead. I wanted him gone from the face of the earth so he could never touch another human again. I pried one hand off the table and worked on the other.
Ammo and Mary Page 1
