Without Warning

by Reese Knightley

  The kiss that was meant to be light was taken to a whole other level.

  The shouts and hollering in the room brought him back to his senses.

  Harrison was smiling and flushed when he lifted his hand and drew the man around to face the crowd of loved ones and friends.

  “I now give you Harrison and Ryder Trudel-Freeman.”

  The room grew deafening as people swarmed closer, offering congratulations and clapping them on the back.

  The reception was held at the same place. Tables and chairs were lined with food and drink. He’d lost sight of Harrison when Gina took him over to meet her cousins that had driven in from Arizona.

  Movement near the back of the room drew his gaze, and he found Gunner standing in the shadows.

  Making his way across the room and through the door, he held out his hand.

  “Ryder,” Gunner rasped and shook his hand.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I would make it.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  “It’s hard to turn down an invitation to a wedding,” Gunner smirked.

  “Felix get your truck back to you?”

  “Eventually.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Jaxon snarled, coming up behind him and trying to go around.

  Ryder put out an arm and stopped Jaxon from advancing.

  “Jaxon, it’s been a long time,” Gunner drawled.

  “Not long enough, you son of a bitch!”

  “Jaxon, cool it. I invited him.” He scowled at Jaxon and his friend scowled back.

  “What’s going on?” His younger brother, Reed, stepped out and took one look at Jaxon and Gunner, crossed his arms, and squinted.

  “Nothing.” Ryder smiled at his brother. “It’s cool, Reed.”

  “Oh, okay. Mom wants you and Harrison to cut the cake,” Reed said, looking doubtfully from him to the other two and back again.

  “Congratulations, Ryder. I’ll call you,” Gunner told him before he gave Jaxon a hard stare.

  “Take care, Gunner,” Ryder said and released the hold he had on Jaxon’s bicep.

  Jaxon straightened his suit jacket with a snap. Gunner’s long strides took him out of the room.

  “Jaxon, not cool at my wedding. What the fuck is up with you two?”

  “Shit,” his friend muttered. “Sorry.”

  “Forgiven.” He smiled and jerked his head. “I’ve got to get back in there or my husband will come looking for me.”

  “Darn right I will,” Harrison’s soft voice reached him. “There’s cake to cut.”

  He spun and beheld the love of his life looking sexy as hell. In another moment, he stepped toward his future.

  Harrison

  “Let’s sneak out,” Ryder whispered against his ear as they reentered the room.

  “No, I want to enjoy our day,” he pouted and received a kiss.

  “I know, I’m just teasing.”

  “Are you ready to get our baby next week?” He wrapped his arms around Ryder’s neck and smiled up at his husband.

  “I suppose.” Ryder swayed them back and forth. “Have you picked out a name yet?”

  “He’s going to be big.” He chewed on his lip, thinking of the ten week old Bull Mastiff puppy he’d picked from the litter of eight.

  “And?” Ryder smiled down at him.

  “So I need to pick a name that he can grow into.”

  “And?” Ryder chuckled.

  “Maximus, and we’ll call him Max.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I know,” he grinned cheekily.

  Ryder’s head dipped and he ran lips along his jaw.

  “Now can we leave?” Ryder whispered wickedly near his ear and nibbled down his neck.

  “I’m getting waved at frantically from the sidelines.” Harrison grinned, tugging Ryder with him.

  “Pain in the ass… er, behinds,” Ryder complained.

  “The guests want cake,” Harrison chuckled softly and lifted the cake knife.

  “Oooh!” Ryder said and came up behind him and reached around to hold onto his hands and the knife. Harrison wiggled his butt back against Ryder’s crotch.

  “You’re going to get in trouble doing that. Remember they are filming this,” Ryder chuckled.

  “I know! Our own personal porn shot when we watch it later,” he laughed.

  “All right, you two! Children are present,” Romero called out loudly, and the guests laughed because all of the children were in a small room with Maggie playing board games.

  Harrison felt his hands guided, and the knife sliced through the cake, accompanied by loud cheering.

  Ryder lifted a piece and smushed it to his mouth and laughing, Harrison took the bite and licked his lips.

  “Yummy,” Ryder said and kissed the cake away.

  “All right, you two, I’ll take it from here,” Gina said and August stepped up to help her.

  Ryder cleaned him of all traces of cake and then pulled him away before spinning him around and pulling him close.

  “How long do we have to stay?”

  He laughed at his husband. “Don’t you want to party with me?”

  Ryder looked contrite. “Of course I do.”

  “I think you just want to party in my pants,” Harrison said, tongue in cheek.

  Ryder’s chuckle grew, and Harrison found himself caught up in the man’s strong arms and swung around and around.

  The room overhead spun. Whooping, cheering, and laughter started around them. When his feet touched the ground, he found himself on the dance floor.

  Laughing hysterically, Harrison clung tightly as Ryder danced him around the floor like a goof before pulling him close.

  “We already had the first dance,” he laughed, breathless.

  “Yes, but this song I picked out especially for you,” Ryder said proudly, and Harrison’s heart melted.

  Ryder waived at the DJ and drew him close.

  Harrison swayed in his husband’s arms as the music of “Say You Won’t Let Go,” by James Arthur floated over the room.

  He doubted life could get any better than this, but if it did?

  Count him in.

  The End

  Thank you for reading Without Warning. For a list of the cast of characters, please visit my blog at reeseknightleyauthor.blogspot.com. Stay tuned for more stories about alpha men who protect their own. Please feel free to leave a review, we authors’ love that! You can reach me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. My email address is Reeseknightleyauthor@gmail.com

  To my fans, as always, these stories are for you.

  Reese spends her time creating stories from the characters rattling around in her head. Her love of reading mystery, action and adventure, and fantasy books led to her love of writing. Reese works as a full-time writer. She loves to hear from her readers.

  To keep up on my latest releases, please sign up for my newsletter

  Out for Justice Series

  Ricochet

  Collide

  Rampage

  Destruction

  Code of Honor Series

  Cutting It Close

  Sneak peek from Ricochet

  Shoved beneath the bed by his mother, he pressed his hands over his ears to muffle her screams. Through a sliver of light beneath the bed skirt, he could see the side of his mother’s blue blouse. Her chest jerked and heaved. Dusty brown work boots cut off his view.

  A violent bang cracked through the room, sending his heart racing and a warm stream of urine beneath him. Two men argued and he held his breath, biting one fist. The boots moved on. He kept his eyes riveted on his mother. He couldn’t remember when she stopped jerking. Wiggling backwards, eyes squeezed shut, he panted quietly.

  Harsh, cruel hands reached for him and he fought them, terrified, screaming. He clawed at the floor for purchase, but it didn’t matter. Brutally yanked from his hiding place, a man with a cruel face looked him over. At eleven years old, he c
ried for his mother, and learned early on that crying only made it worse.

  Noah

  Six years later

  Noah’s fingers twisted the leather band around his wrist until he felt the comforting burn against the irritated skin. Standing before the mirror, he pulled a brush through his shoulder-length, blond hair and tied it back.

  He fiddled with each of the shirt’s long sleeves, making sure the material laid flat with no wrinkles. He smoothed a hand down the front. God fucking forbid if anything looked out of place; everything had to be perfect, no scars showing. He adjusted the chunky leather band covering his raw wrist. Being considered a prized possession, he had to look flawless.

  A fist hit the door and he jumped.

  “Five minutes!” One of the guards yelled.

  “I’ll be right there.” The monthly meeting held a special kind of hell. It was where he sat at the right side of Terrance Manning, the man who ran this compound. The man who was grooming him to become his second-in-command.

  Fingers squeezing the edges of the sink, he took several quick breaths before turning toward the door. He schooled his features. All he needed to do was avoid that fucker Stevenson and he’d be in the clear.

  Ricky Stevenson was becoming a big problem. Two weeks ago, the man had changed the orders behind Manning’s back and had dragged him into the fucking mess. His stepfather had plans for the drugs Manning knew nothing about. Their boss would be enraged if he ever found out what Stevenson had planned. Even though it had never worked before, Noah tried reasoning with the guy.

  “Does Manning know about this?” he asked, looking doubtfully at Stevenson.

  “What the fuck did you just say? You’re my fucking kid, not his. You’re only breathing because I say, not him!” His beefy stepfather advanced on him.

  Ricky Stevenson, was in his mid-thirties. For a drug dealer, the guy was fit and muscled from years of working construction. His weathered face was deeply sunburned from the many hours spent outside. Sharply cut sideburns that almost reached his chin gave him a menacing look, which matched an equally volatile disposition. Sliced deep into the skin of his forehead ran a thin scar that trailed through one black eyebrow; the result of a knife fight.

  No match for the guy’s size and rage, Noah lifted his hands to protect his face. He tried to fight back, but was pummeled. He couldn’t remember much of the beating after a punch to the head, but later, he’d woken up dizzy, in pain, and nauseated. He had kept his mouth shut from then on.

  Mac

  Half-asleep, Mac reached out and patted the bed, searching for the ringing phone.

  “Hello?” Groggy from only a few hours’ sleep, the word came out in a low rumble.

  “Mac Mackenzie?”

  “Yes,” Mac rasped. Putting the cell phone on speaker, he rolled to his side.

  “I’m Harlo Miller, the owner of Miller’s Bar in San Diego,” the man said.

  Well, that was random. “What can I do for you, Mr. Miller?”

  “Sir, we have a situation. There’s a Ben Heins here. I found your contact information in his phone. He’s drunk and has hurt himself. Also tore up my bar somethin’ fierce.”

  Mac pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  “I don’t want to call the cops, but he’s caused some damage to my place. Can you come pick him up?”

  “How bad is he hurt?” Mac sat up.

  “Bruised ribs, and he has a cut over one eye that I taped.”

  Okay, not badly then. “I’m not in San Diego at the moment.”

  Too far away to go down there and drag Ben’s ass out of the place, Mac clenched his jaw. He was tired of letting himself get dragged into Ben’s messes. The man had destroyed Mac’s trust, yet never failed to reach out when he wanted something. And the fucked up part was Mac always helped. Next time, he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t leave Ben in a bar when he was injured.

  “I see. Well, then I guess I can call the cops, but there’s damages to be paid.”

  “Tell me how much and I can PayPal you the money and call a taxi to come get him. Will that work?”

  “Yes, thank you. That should do it.” Miller rattled off the amount of two thousand dollars and some change. Mac rubbed his chest. He should just tell the guy to have his ex thrown in jail.

  Beautiful fucking Ben. He was not only his ex-lover, but they had served one tour together. Watching each other’s backs on and off the battlefield, they had been close. But that was a long time ago, and Mac wondered how much longer he could keep bailing Ben out.

  Mac sent the money and ordered the car, and then tossed the phone on the mattress. Dropping back on the bed, he pulled a pillow into the curve of his body and hooked one leg over it. Of course, his mind wouldn’t shut up, and after a few minutes, he gave up trying to get more sleep. The pillow lacked the hardness he craved, and its softness became a taunting reminder of how alone he felt. Shoving it aside, Mac flopped onto his back.

  The soft hum of the fan filled the room, sending a cool breeze over his sprawled body. It seemed like he couldn’t go a month without Ben causing some kind of scene and dragging him into it.

  Suddenly irritated and before he could slide further into a funk, he flung off the sheet and sat up on the edge of the bed. The red glow of the bedside clock displayed three a.m. No sense in trying to get more sleep; he had to be up in a few more hours anyway.

  The shower was hot, and the pressure helped ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. Shutting the water off, he towel dried his hair and brushed his teeth. Deciding against a shave, he avoided his reflection in the mirror.

  Dressed in black tactical pants and a black tee, he stood on the balcony sipping the one-serving-sized cup of coffee the hotel provided. Bracing a hip against the railing, Mac looked out over the lights of San Jose. He’d spent his teenage years growing up in the California city. Back then, he had pictured his life turning out very different than it was today.

  The loud knock on the door made him frown. Checking the peep hole, the hallway appeared empty. Easing to the side of the door, Mac pulled his gun.

  “Who is it?” he called out.

  “It’s me!” US Marshal Jake Coleman’s laugh came muffled through the door. The man was a natural born prankster pain in his ass, but Mac could think of no better partner to have on the force. Jake had covered his back more than once in the year they’d been together, and Mac considered him a damn good friend.

  Mac yanked open the door and scowled before tucking away his gun. “Not funny, Coleman.”

  Jake grinned wide and slid past him. “I hope you have coffee!”

  Before he could answer, a second knock came on the partially opened door.

  “Well, hell.” Mac smiled. “This is a surprise.” In seconds, his arms were filled with one of his oldest and dearest friends, Becca Johnson. They’d known each other since childhood, and her mother and his aunt still lived next door to each other in a quiet little San Jose neighborhood.

  “You missed me!” Becca squeaked and peppered his cheek with a few kisses.

  “Maybe.” Mac grinned, tugging at her long ponytail before she danced away, laughing. With Becca, he could goof around, have fun, and laugh. With her, Mac didn’t need to pretend. There were very few people who knew the real him, and Becca was one of them. She was his best friend, and no matter how much time passed between phone calls and visits, it was as if they’d never been apart.

  Becca gave Jake a squeeze as she passed.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” another voice called out, shoving at the door when Mac jokingly tried to push it closed. “Don’t forget the best part,” Kane said, pushing his way in, carrying coffee. Mac barked out a laugh before hugging his other best friend, FBI agent Kane Quintana.

  Kane just happened to be Becca’s boyfriend. The pair had met during a Halloween party through mutual friends and had hit it off.

  Injured and staying at his aunt’s house next door, Mac had been at the same party. Just out of the military, he’d
been angry at Ben, the war, and the world. It was sometime after that, during the time he was recuperating from his military injury, that Kane had tried to get him a job.

  “The FBI needs a man like you.” Kane always talked about how great the FBI was. The man went on and on about this and that until one day, Mac stopped saying fuck off and had joined the US Marshals office instead.

  It was worth it just to see Kane hyperventilate. Kane had called it Mac’s desertion to the dark side.

  “A fucking marshal?” Kane’s mouth gaped.

  Mac had just laughed. From there, he had gone on to pass every physical and mental test the USMS threw at him, thankful his injury hadn’t damaged his eyesight.

  Two years ago, the US Marshals had welcomed Robert Patrick Mackenzie into the fold, and while Kane had grumbled, Mac knew his friend was happy for him.

  Noah

  He used a piece of gauze to dab at the wound on his wrist. He’d opened it up again. Carl wouldn’t like that.

  “Here, let me see it.” As if on cue, Dr. Carl Denning’s request drifted through the air. The calmness in the veterinarian’s smooth voice came from years of working with animals. Dr. Denning hadn’t been at the ranch very long, but in the two weeks the vet had come back and forth to tend to the livestock, the man had become somewhat of a friend to most of the teenagers there. Noah hated every man he met, but Carl was okay. The man had insisted they call him Carl and drop the title. Noah popped a piece of candy into his mouth. Carl kept a jar on the counter and Noah always stashed a few in his pockets.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he offered, holding out his arm, knowing it was futile to argue with the somewhat pushy but caring doctor.

  Toenails clicked on the floor and a soft nose nuzzled at his free hand. Noah couldn’t stop the smile when Baby licked at his palm.