by April Hunt
Both heads snapped his way.
Hair floppy and hanging over his eyeglasses-framed blue eyes, Liam embraced his Navy retirement with both hands while Ryder, the most recent of the quartet to get his civilian status, clung to the Marine cropped buzz to which he’d become accustomed. They had different personalities, served different military branches, but wore the same damn look.
Surprise.
“You actually came.” Liam didn’t bother hiding his shock.
“I didn’t get an automatic fist to the jaw, so I guess that means I’m welcome inside?” Knox joked dryly.
Ryder snorted. “Roman’s downstairs. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to pick up our dropped ball.”
Knox didn’t doubt that one bit.
A year younger than himself, Roman had been his co-conspirator growing up. They’d hatched schemes against Liam and Ryder and sent more than one teacher into early retirement. More times than Knox could count, their mother threatened them with bread and water rations and military school paperwork—which she never would’ve gone through with, and they both knew it.
They’d stayed close through separate boot camps and during overseas duty stations. After the IED explosion that took the bottom third of Roman’s left leg, Knox’s commanding officer threw his ass on the first cargo flight to Germany so he could be at his brother’s side.
No one fucked with the Steele brothers because to mess with one was to deal with them all.
And then Knox screwed up.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Roman would throw a punch first and ask questions later. It’s what he would do if the situations had been reversed.
Knox scanned the room to avoid the varied emotions on his brothers’ faces.
While still a hazard zone, the indoor lobby looked a hell of a lot better than the outside grounds. “You guys have done a good job on this place.”
Liam tossed the saw on the makeshift table. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Ryder looked ready to break Knox’s no thrown punches observation. “We haven’t seen your sorry ass in two years and your first comment to us is going to be about our carpentry skills?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re an asshole.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I’m an ass.”
“And that even though you’re the oldest, you’re a dumb fuck.”
Knox cocked up an eyebrow, but conceded. “I’m not known for making the best decisions, that’s for sure.”
Ryder snuck a glance at a suspiciously quiet Liam and muttered, “All your agreeing isn’t making this easy.”
“Making what easy?”
“Staying pissed off at you.”
Knox remained still while Ryder closed the distance and wrapped him in a bone-crushing bro-hug. “Are you trying to crack my ribs or my spine?”
Ry pounded on his back for good measure. “Either. Is it working?”
“No. It kind of tickles.”
Ryder chuckled, giving him one last squeeze before backing away with a sly smirk. “Why couldn’t you have gotten all weak and frumpy these last few years?”
“I figured I’d leave that to you,” Knox teased.
“It’s my turn.” Liam stalked over.
Knox, lowering his guard and opening his arms, didn’t see the punch coming until pain exploded up the side of his face. He stumbled back a few steps. “What the hell?”
“Did that tickle?” Liam waited in front of him, arms folded across his wide chest. The man may be a genius behind a computer, but he wasn’t a lightweight.
Knox rubbed his jaw and the speck of blood that collected at the corner of his mouth. “Shit. No, that didn’t tickle.”
“Good. Now bring it in, you dumb bastard.” Liam pulled him into his second hug in as many minutes. “You couldn’t just breeze into town quietly, huh? You had to stumble into DC’s very own hornets’ nest?”
“Giving a statement to Cade wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my night. Neither was a dark-alley reunion with Zoey.”
Liam pulled back, grinning. “And how’d that go?”
“Pretty sure the only reason she didn’t lay me flat on the ground was because we were surrounded by cops.”
“Then you’re a lucky dumb bastard.”
Laying eyes on his brothers for the first time in over two years, Knox felt his chest swell with emotion. The feeling was foreign to him. He’d gotten damn good at distancing himself from others and uncomfortable situations. Too good at it.
Work. Exercise. Sleep. And repeat.
He’d been on autopilot for the last two years, surviving instead of living. It took Cade’s phone call last year and Zoey’s health scare to wake him the hell up. But just because his eyes had been opened didn’t mean his problems were instantly solved.
He was still trying to work that shit out, and why he hooked the boat to his truck and drove up from North Carolina. There’d no doubt be a hell of a lot more mixed feelings to come—both from him and his brothers. Definitely from his mother. It was the risk he took in returning home, even if the reunion was temporary.
Knox pulled back and gestured to the lobby. “You’re outfitting the first three floors to be Iron Bars Distillery, right?”
Liam nodded and glanced around at their handiwork. “Third floor will be offices, second floor for events. We’re standing in the lounge and tasting room, where people can sample the week’s brews.”
“And no one will know what’s lurking beneath their feet.” Knox smirked. “I’m impressed. You’re well on your way without me.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point, is it?” Ryder interjected.
“No. No, it’s not,” Knox agreed. They’d had plans and he’d given them all a big middle finger by staying away as long as he had. “But I’m here now.”
“And how long is that going to last?” another voice echoed through the large room.
Roman, hands shoved deep in his pockets, stepped through the back door. Black hair brushing his collar and dark stubble covering his jaw, he looked more like a musician than a former Special Forces operator. His dark gray eyes—their father’s eyes—locked him in a hard stare.
“Roman,” Liam said carefully, “take it easy.”
“Taking the easy route is our older brother’s territory. So what’s it going to be, Knox? You here for a week? Two? How long are we going to be graced with your presence?”
“I’m here for as long as it takes to get you guys up and running. One week. One month, or three. Whatever you need.”
Ryder asked first, “You mean you’re not staying?”
Knox wanted to say yes with every ounce of his being. He missed his family. He’d missed DC and all its little quirks. He missed the life he’d had when he’d lived here. But family came first…and the best thing he could do for his brothers was stay the hell out of their business—literally.
“An old buddy of mine started a celebrity bodyguard service out in California. He offered me a job and I’m going to give it a whirl.”
“A Bodyguard to the Stars?” Liam’s mouth dropped. He looked more than a little horrified at the prospect. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“Nope. But he’s given me an open start date, so you guys have me for as long as you need.”
Roman scoffed. “We don’t need, so you can go ahead and make the cross-country drive ahead of schedule.”
“Want and need are two entirely different things, Ro. You may not want me here, but it looks like you could use an extra pair of hands around this place.” Knox held his stance, fully expecting a second shot to the jaw as Roman stalked closer.
Instead, he stopped an inch away, face harder than Knox ever remembered seeing before. “There’s no may about it. Steele Ops isn’t here to relieve your guilt for being a fucking coward.”
“Good to know…but I’m not here out of guilt,” Knox lied.
“And I’m not here to make your life easy.”
“Didn’t think you were, brother.”
“Brother?” Roman’s fists balled up at his sides, and he jutted his chin toward Ryder and Liam. “My brothers live by their word. Funny how all of us followed the plan except the one who actually thought it all up. Don’t you think that’s a bit ironic?”
Knox didn’t back down from Roman’s barely controlled fury. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t lectured himself about a million times over already. Steele Ops had been his brainchild before he’d even left the Army, and by talking it up on every furlough and R & R weekend, he’d quickly gotten his brothers on board with the idea.
And then he’d jumped the metaphorical ship.
“Do you want to know why Steele Ops isn’t already open for business?” Roman demanded. “Because two years ago…hell, one year ago, I erroneously believed that you’d come to your senses. Good thing I finally came to mine or else we’d all still be sitting on our asses twiddling our damn thumbs. I don’t care why you’re here, just stay out of my way while you are.”
Roman pushed him aside with his shoulder and slammed the back door as he left. The windows rattled precariously in their frames, and the floor shook.
“That went unexpectedly well. Not a drop of blood spilled,” Liam joked.
“Uh…” Knox touched his busted lip.
“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Kinda. Okay, not in the least.” Chuckling, Liam dropped an arm over Knox’s shoulder. “A bodyguard service? Seriously?”
Knox shrugged, making his brother sigh.
“Fine. Guess we’ll just have to hope that we can change your mind with a tour of the underbelly. We have a private security wonderland right beneath our feet, man. Sleeping quarters. Ops center. Gym. You name it and it’s down there. And we made sure to keep as much of the prisoners’ quarters as we could…for ambiance.”
Ryder smirked. “And for those times when we can’t take Liam for another second and want to lock his ass in a jail cell. I mean, how many times have we wished we could do that?”
They all laughed.
For the first time in two years, the weight on Knox’s shoulders lightened. It didn’t change the endgame, though. He couldn’t stay.
Once upon a time, when the pressure had been on, he’d let down good men who’d relied on him to make the hard—and best—calls. He’d failed his unit. He’d failed an entire damn operating base. Hell would freeze over before he let himself fail his brothers too.
Chapter
Four
Mid-stride and in front of an impatient taxi, Zoey’s three-inch heel caught on a pothole. She stumbled, righting her balance a split second before hitting that point of no return.
The waiting cabbie laid on his horn.
“Sorry! Sorry!” She ignored the obscene gesture he flipped up as she shimmied her high-heeled boot out of the crack. “If you’re going to be a jerk, then I’m not sorry.”
Working the crime scene until the wee morning hours and crashing hard afterward, Zoey had spent the rest of her rare day off practice-walking. And it hadn’t done much good. Chances were high that by the end of the night she’d end up in an emergency room with a broken bone, or at the very least, a concussion—and she’d have no one to blame but herself.
And Grace.
If not for her best friend’s excitement, Zoey would’ve backpedaled the second her costume idea for O’Malley’s March Madness Monday fell from her lips.
Safely on the opposite sidewalk, Zoey glanced around to see if anyone had caught her near catastrophic tumble.
Two teen girls talked animatedly with each other despite having their heads bowed over their phones, and in front of her, an older man in an expensive suit shamed all power-walkers. Only the young college-aged kid on her left had seemed to notice. His grin widened as he dropped a leering gaze to her chest.
“I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.” She fisted her coat closed and kept her focus on the Irish pub now less than twenty yards away.
There was still time to change her mind, turn at the next block and lose herself in the crowd that took advantage of the unseasonably warm April night. People had come out to the Wharf in droves, some in the posh, popular restaurants, others shopping in the quaint boutiques that abutted the Potomac River.
O’Malley’s stuck out like a sore, but well-loved, thumb. Rudy, the owner, bragged that the pub was his little piece of Ireland in the Americas. Its aged plate-glass windows contrasted with the lush, shiny new businesses around it. The heavy oak-and-iron door stood open, spilling a U2 song out into the walkway, and with it, a burst of laughter.
By the sound of it, all of DC had come out to watch the Hoyas clinch the national championship, and Rudy’s added promise of one free drink per costumed patron didn’t hurt either.
A lot of people.
A lot of alcohol.
A lot of opportunity to make a fool of herself.
Zoey’s pajamas practically called her name from across town.
“Do it, Zoey, and I’ll chase you down and drag you back by your ponytail.” Grace’s warning obliterated any hope of an escape.
Five inches taller than Zoey’s own five feet three, Grace Steele stood out in any crowd with her brown silky hair and dark eyes. She could’ve donned the cover of a fashion magazine and been world famous, but instead, somewhere in the depth of her small black clutch were FBI credentials and probably Magdalena, her trusty Magnum .22.
Both her profession and the fact that she’d spent her teenage years living in a house with four oversized male cousins made her a formidable person to everyone except Zoey.
Grace pushed off the brick wall beneath the blinking O’Malley’s sign. “What the hell are you wearing? A trench coat?”
“It’s a suit jacket. And I’m wearing it because the temperature’s supposed to drop tonight and I knew I’d probably have to park light-years away.”
“You’re still an awful liar. Hand it over.” Grace fought off a smile as she held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “You’d save us both a lot of aggravation and time by remembering that I’m not the type to take no for an answer.”
Isn’t that the truth? Since they met at the ages of eleven and thirteen, Grace had possessed a knack for talking Zoey into things. Pranks. Outfits. Going to parties. Since Grace had been there for an obscene amount of her procedures and hospitalizations, Zoey didn’t often put up much of a struggle.
Friends didn’t come any better.
With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly handed over her last layer of defense. “As my best friend, it’s your sworn duty to tell me when I’ve had a monumentally bad idea. You slacked on the job.”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“Yes!”
“You want to go back to your apartment, change into flannels, and cuddle on the couch with your sadistic cat?”
“Firstly, Snuggles isn’t sadistic. He has social anxiety, which I can totally relate to…and secondly, I wouldn’t mind going home.” Through the pub’s stained-glass window, Zoey eyed the sea of bodies crammed inside and cringed. “It looks like all of the District came out and brought along friends.”
“And why wouldn’t they? The Hoyas are about to win the championship, and Rudy’s doling out free drinks. I’ve missed a million event nights at O’Malley’s, Zoey. You wouldn’t deprive me of a walk down memory lane, would you?”
“As much as you wouldn’t hold out on me about Knox visiting town.”
Grace’s sly smirk told Zoey all she needed to know.
“Run into my cousin already, did you?” Linking her arm through Zoey’s, Grace steered them to the door. “With all the crap going on around town right now, people need an excuse to let loose—and that includes you. O’Malley’s is built-in happy fun.”
“Do I look like I’m having fun?” To emphasize her point, Zoey tilted her mouth down in an exaggerated frown.
Grace laughed. “No, which means this wasn’t a bad idea…it was a brilliant one. What did you tell me after your open-heart last year?
When you woke up from anesthesia?”
“I don’t know. I was still groggy. I can only go by what you claim transpired.”
“You told me that you were ready to try new things…put yourself out there for the world to see and be the Zoey you were always meant to be.”
“Well, I’m definitely out there.” Zoey adjusted her skimpy tank top and the bulky costume necklace that draped between her breasts, and more importantly, covered her scar. “Speaking of, I told you I was running late. Why were you waiting outside?”
“I needed fresh air,” Grace said way too quickly. She avoided eye contact, a dead giveaway she held something back.
“Now who’s lying?” Zoey teased. “Are you, a big bad FBI profiler, that afraid of being alone with my brother? I can only assume by the little twitch in your eye that he’s here?”
“I do not have a twitch. I’ve been trained to be twitch-less.”
With a smirk, Zoey pointed. “See. It’s there again. Left eye. Twitch.”
Since she’d returned to DC three weeks ago to help with the Cupid Killer case, Grace had done her best not to be alone with her childhood sweetheart. Even after more than ten years, Zoey still wasn’t sure what happened to end things between them. When asked, Grace usually shrugged and said Life.
Cade didn’t answer at all.
“You want to know why I was lying in wait? Because I knew you’d talk yourself into going home once you realized Knox was inside.” Zoey froze, and in realizing she’d gotten her payback, Grace grinned. “Did I forget to tell you that I mentioned tonight’s outing to Knox? All I had to say was O’Malley’s, and he and the guys got this special twinkle in their eyes. Are you sure I didn’t tell you they were going to be here?”
“I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered.”
She definitely would’ve remembered, and Grace was right—she wouldn’t have left her apartment if she’d known O’Malley’s would be taken over by the Steele boys—er, men.
Zoey glanced at the pub. As kids, they’d all spent countless afternoons in Rudy’s back room, shooting pool and playing darts until the old Irishman had to kick them out and open for the night. But now, right in front of her eyes, a cloud of impending doom hovered over their old hangout.
