by Laura Kaye
It was actually nice taking a little leave from the day job—he’d made the call to his superior right before setting out on the run. Question was just how much time this op was going to take. And was Shane going to have enough time or end up having to choose between a paycheck and justice. Because that was really no choice at all.
Rolling the aches out of his shoulder, Shane reached the driveway to their large gravel parking lot and caught movement from the corner of his eye. Jeremy Rixey was up on a ladder, while Nick and Marz stood on the ground calling directions up to him.
Every time Nick tried to talk, Jeremy started drilling into the brick. Trademark grin on his face, Marz adjusted the coiled black cable in his hands and shook his head as the brothers traded insults.
“Look, I’m just wondering if—”
Whirr, whirr, whirr.
“Dude, I know what I’m doing,” Jeremy said when he paused the tool. “Either let me do this or get your moody ass up here instead.”
Shane cut up the driveway toward them. “How many prior military does it take to drill in a screw?” he asked.
“None,” Jeremy, the only civilian among them, called down with a smile and a wink. “Obviously.” With their dark hair and pale green eyes, Jeremy and Nick looked a helluva lot alike though Jer’s hair was longer and his skin bore far more ink. Nick didn’t have any tats showing around the white T-shirt and jeans he wore—and neither did Shane, because tattoos were too readily identifiable in the field, but Jeremy had full sleeves, writing on his knuckles, and pieces on his neck, too.
“Becca saved you some pancakes,” Nick said over the whirr of the drill. “But somebody probably snagged ’em by now. Where’d you go?”
Shane studied the man who’d been his team’s second-in-command and his longtime best friend. After they’d been discharged and sent stateside last year, Nick had pulled a disappearing act and turned his back on Shane like they hadn’t fought and bled at one another’s sides for the past six years. And that bullshit had cut. Deep. “For a run and a little recon,” he finally said. “What’s up here?”
“Security cameras and motion-activated lights,” Marz said.
Shane smiled at the guy. “Boys and their toys.”
“Damn straight.” Marz was their guru for all things computer and technology. The man had a scary kinda smarts where anything technical was concerned, which made him one of their key assets. Always had. In fact, it had been Marz who’d found a way to give them some eyes on the locations they’d raided to search for Charlie the previous night.
Fuckin’ A, it was good to see the man healthy and standing on his own two feet again—even if one of them was prosthetic. Shane and Marz had talked from time to time, but before their reunion two days ago, the last time Shane had seen him was in the rehab unit of a hospital. Of all the survivors of the ambush that had revealed their commander’s dirty little secret, Marz’s injuries had been the most catastrophic. He’d lost part of a leg to a grenade, and Shane and Nick had worked together, despite Nick’s own gunshot wounds to his back, to staunch the bleeding and keep him alive. Where the rest of them could be moody bastards, Marz was and always had been one happy, optimistic fucker. Drove them all batshit sometimes. But absolutely nothing got the guy down—at least not for long. The rest of them could learn a thing or two.
Shane scanned the brickwork closest to the street and found a new camera-and-light fixture already installed. “How many are you putting up?”
“All the way around the building,” Nick said. “Street front’s done. Just need to do two more points in the back.”
“Okay, hand it up,” Jeremy called. Nick grabbed the unit out of the box and climbed the ladder high enough to do the handoff. Marz put a steadying hand on the aluminum as he fed them the cable, then backed off as Nick neared the ground.
“We’re also installing a fence around the parking lot,” Nick said. “Jer’s got a client with a fencing company, so he called in a favor, and the guy will be by to install it this afternoon. Easy and Beckett went with him to help haul the materials.”
Shane nodded. “Shit, I wish I’d have known. They could’ve taken my truck.”
Nick thumbed over his shoulder with a smirk. “Way ahead of you.”
Frowning, Shane walked far enough to see that his big, black F150 was gone. He arched a brow at Nick.
“Don’t give me that look. You would’ve offered. We just skipped a step.” The guy’s smile was tentative, like he was testing the waters and knew they might be infested with sharks.
“Sons o’ bitches,” Shane groused. But Nick was right. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t willing to do anything to help figure this situation out. And security had to be a part of that. “Fine. They scratch it all up, though, and I’m taking it out on your hide.”
Nick’s smile turned indulgent, and he nodded. “Well, you can try.”
The drill let out an unhappy, high-pitched whine, and Jeremy cursed, drawing Shane’s gaze. Shane let go of the retort sitting on the tip of his tongue as an idea parked itself in his frontal lobe. “You know, while we’re at it, we should consider a few remote cameras on the approaches to this building. Give us a way to see what might be coming at us before it gets here. Saw a few places on my run that’d be perfect.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Marz said. “Tell me where you want ’em, and I’ll make it happen.”
“I wish I could say this was all overkill,” Shane said. But after last night, when they’d raided two locations of Baltimore’s most notorious gang, stolen back Charlie, and engaged in gunfights with Jimmy Church’s men, the shit was on, and it was deep. And it wasn’t like they could go to the authorities, not after they’d found solid evidence that Church had the cops in his pocket. So, their enemies were highly sophisticated, apparently numerous, and not fully known—a trifecta of luck so bad that if it were raining pussy, they’d have gotten hit with a big dick. So, yeah, these precautions were right on the money.
Nick’s gaze narrowed and went distant for a moment, then he nodded. “You and me both. But we’ve still got more questions than answers at this point, and too much at stake to take any chances.”
It went without saying that Becca Merritt had to be on Nick’s mind. Three days ago, her house had been ransacked and someone had tried to snatch her from her workplace at University Hospital, so she was living here while this situation got resolved. But something told Shane she’d be staying at Hard Ink even once everything was said and done. Any man with two eyes and half a brain could see that the search for Becca’s brother had forged a tight bond between her and Nick. The kind that had a decent shot of lasting forever.
Shane totally got it. Because Becca had proven herself again and again in the short time he’d known her. By staying strong. By pitching in. By putting herself in harm’s way to help their mission.
And by being the first person to ever apologize for the fubar that had stripped them of their careers, their uniforms, their honor.
Given all she’d done, Shane was as committed to her safety as Nick. Especially because whoever had wanted their commander’s children so badly wasn’t going to give up. Someone believed Charlie and Becca had knowledge of their father’s black ops in Afghanistan, and no doubt they’d keep coming until they got what they wanted. Or died trying.
“How’s the shoulder?” Marz asked, as Jeremy made his way down the ladder.
“Eh. I’ll live.” Shane shrugged. “How’s the leg?” He grinned. Marz had taken three gunshots in last night’s firefight, all of them miraculously shooting through the bottom half of his right pant leg, the one that was mostly empty save for the metal rod of his prosthesis.
Marz barked out a laugh. “Good as new, baby.”
Jeremy climbed down the ladder, shaking his head. “You guys are a little twisted.”
“Says the guy wearing a T-shirt with a log-holding beaver asking, ‘Are you looking at my wood?’” Shane said. Jeremy had a whole collection of dirty and irreverent shirts, appar
ently.
Everyone chuckled.
“Hey, I never said I had a problem with twisted.” Jeremy hefted the ladder and moved it to the next position.
Everyone halted as a three-legged puppy came bounding down the driveway.
“Speaking of twisted,” Shane said, earning a few more chuckles. Becca had rescued the German shepherd from scavenging the hospital trash cans a few days before, and now the cute mutt with a pair of inordinately huge ears had everyone wrapped around her oversized paws.
“Dude, no making fun of Eileen,” Marz said, scooping her lanky black-and-tan body into his arms. Their shared missing-leg status had created a huge soft spot in the man’s heart for the puppy.
“Who, me?” Shane reached over and gave her silky ears a quick stroke. “Besides, how could I possibly make fun of a three-legged puppy with cartoonish ears named Eileen?”
“Last night you claimed credit for the name,” Nick said. “Even though I was the one who sang Becca the song.”
“Don’t remind me. The memory of you down on your knees singing eighties anthems is burned into my brain forever. Besides, you’re just mad that Becca liked my name best.”
The smirk on Nick’s face made it clear he was gearing up for a juicy retort, but just then, Becca rounded the corner from the back of the building. The woman was all-American-girl pretty, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a warm, bright smile. “You guys aren’t making fun of Eileen, are you?” A chorus of negatives rang out, and Becca rolled her eyes. “You totally were. You’re going to give her a complex.” She nuzzled the puppy in Marz’s arms. “It’s okay, pretty girl. Don’t listen to them.”
“You know I wasn’t doing anything but loving her. These guys, though . . .” Marz shrugged.
“Hey, don’t throw me under the bus. I didn’t say a word,” Jeremy said, leaning the ladder back against the building. “It was these assholes.” He pointed at Shane and Nick.
Shane had a defense on the tip of his tongue, but Becca turned her feigned outrage on Nick. “How could you?”
Nick nailed his brother with a glare as he stepped right into Becca’s space. “I didn’t say a damn thing, sunshine. Promise.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, trying to hold back a grin as Nick kissed her cheek.
Shane turned away and busied himself with filching a bottle of water from the box that held Marz’s supplies. The H2O was warm but did the job.
“Okay, you two. Get a room,” Jeremy said.
“Aren’t you the one who supposedly walks around naked?” Becca asked, crossing her arms.
Jer reached for the button on his jeans and tugged it apart. “No, but your wish is my command, sweetheart.” He winked, stomping all over Nick’s most exposed nerve. Shane rather respected the younger Rixey’s ability to get under his brother’s skin. Nick was usually buttoned up pretty damn tight.
Nick’s glare slipped into an outright scowl as he pulled Becca in tight and buried her face in his chest. “Quick. Hide your eyes, or you’ll be scarred for life.”
Her laughter was free but muffled. “It’s not my wish, Jeremy, it’s not my wish,” she said. She pulled back, face all squinched up, and asked, “Is it safe yet?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy said. “Just know it’s a standing invitation.”
Nick darted around Becca and tackled Jer before he even knew what hit him. The tussle turned into a full-out wrestling match.
“They really are like twelve-year-olds when they’re together, aren’t they?” She shook her head, but the affection for both of the Rixeys was clear in her expression. “Whenever you guys are done, I was hoping someone would take me to the grocery store, so I can pick up everything I need for our special dinner.”
Before they’d gone out on the mission to rescue Charlie, Becca had promised they’d celebrate his safe return with a big meal of everyone’s favorites. It’d been a nice way of letting the team know she believed in them. Sitting down around a table and catching up with old friends, and some new ones, too, sounded like something they could all use.
“Gimme ten to shower, and I’ll be happy to take you,” Shane said.
Becca’s eyes widened in surprise, making it clear Shane had some fence-mending to do there. He hadn’t exactly given her the warmest reception when they’d first met because he’d let his feelings about her father color his reaction to her. Big mistake. She deserved better.
“Your truck’s gone, remember? I’ll take her,” Nick said. Right.
“Why don’t you both go?” Jeremy said. “Derek and I have this under control and, given everything, maybe you should both go with her.”
Shane shrugged and, after a moment, Nick nodded. “Go take care of your swass and swalls, then, McCallan,” Nick said.
Shane threw a punch as he passed the guy, but Nick dodged with a laugh.
“What the heck are swass and swalls?” Becca asked.
“Sweaty ass and sweaty balls,” Shane, Nick, and Derek said in unison.
“Oh. Ew,” Becca said amid the men’s chuckles. “Yes, do take care of that, Shane.”
He grinned over his shoulder and tossed off a salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Leaving the joking and laughter behind him, Shane hightailed it inside and took the industrial staircase two steps at a time. In the quiet of the stairwell, the questions that had plagued his run returned, but this time they came with something of an answer.
He couldn’t do anything to save Molly. Sixteen years too late for that.
And he couldn’t control his subconscious.
But he could find out what had happened to Crystal after they left. The question was just when to go, how to approach her, and how to keep from getting caught. Oh, and how to get the guys on board with the plan.
Easy as sin.
Right? Probably not. But Shane was like an old dog with a new bone when he wanted to be. And this was one of those times.
Chapter 3
I’d like to propose a toast to Becca, for bringing us all together. And for this amazing meal,” Shane McCallan said, raising his glass and hoping it would help make amends with her.
Becca smiled and ducked her chin as Nick pulled her in snug against his side. All around the makeshift plywood-and-sawhorse table, glasses went up along with appreciative comments about the incredible dinner Becca had spent the day preparing. A mountainous platter of fried chicken, huge crock of homemade meatballs, overflowing bowls of mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables, and a plate of fresh corn bread stacked a mile high filled the table, not to mention an apple pie and a chocolate cake. It was all the favorites everyone had asked for to celebrate Charlie’s rescue.
And what they’d accomplished was worth a celebration because they’d been ass deep in alligators. Dumb luck had played far too great a role in everyone making it home safe and mostly sound. They only had a few scars to show for it, thanks to Becca’s skilled nursing.
“You’re more than welcome,” Becca said, raising her own glass. “But I have to make a toast of my own. To each of you—” She swept her gaze around the table, from Nick beside her, to Shane at the end, to Jeremy and Easy across from her, and to Beckett and Marz on her other side. “This dinner does not begin to be enough to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Charlie, nor are my words. But know I’ll do everything I can to help you right the wrong that was done to you. And that you all have a place in my heart. So, to each of you.”
The toasts were more subdued this time, but the expression on every man’s face made clear the respect he felt for Becca.
“Now, let’s eat!” she said with a big smile.
“I hope there’s enough,” Jeremy said, setting off a raucous round of laughter.
“You think he’s kidding,” Nick said. “Boy might be skinny, but he can pack away some chow.”
As everyone filled their plates, Shane glanced around the table and took a long pull from his beer. The group of old friends—and a few new—ate and laughed and joked and shared stories. Hard to believe they’d
only been reunited for a few days.
The food and the conversation were great, but the restless energy that had buzzed through Shane during his run, at the grocery store, and as they worked with Jer’s friend to install the barbed-wire fencing still flowed through Shane’s veins so fast and so thick he could barely sit still. Over this goat fuck of an operation. Over the cover-up that had changed everything for him. Over the woman he’d met last night and what might’ve happened to her after they bugged out of there.
Crystal.
“You okay, Shane?” Becca asked.
He smiled. “Happy as a pig in a poke. Food’s delicious.”
Becca laughed.
“Try to restrain your inner redneck, there, McCallan,” Easy said with the hint of a grin. You might’ve thought a big black guy from inner-city Philly and a good old boy from the South wouldn’t get along, but Shane and Easy had been fast friends from the beginning. In fact, Shane was responsible for crafting the guy’s nickname out of the initials of his full name, Edward Cantrell. And Easy, well, Easy was responsible for almost single-handedly holding off the tangos who’d ambushed their convoy, giving Shane, trained as their team’s backup medic, time to patch up the damage a grenade had inflicted on both Derek and Beckett.
Shane held out his hands. “Gotta be who I am.”
Easy chuckled. “Well, be who you are without hogging the mashed potatoes. Pass ’em on down here.”
Before long, everyone was clearing away their paper dinner plates in favor of clean plates for dessert. By the way they all attacked the cake, pie, and vanilla ice cream, you’d have never known they’d just demolished a veritable feast.
After inhaling his first piece of chocolate cake, Jeremy scooped another wedge onto his plate. “What?” he said as he dug in.
“Nothing.” Becca smiled, affection for the younger Rixey plain on her face. “Eat up.”
Nick stabbed his fork into Jeremy’s cake and scooped a huge chunk for himself.
“Hey!” Jeremy yelled, scowling and tucking the plate against his chest and that ridiculously awesome beaver T-shirt.
