Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4

by Asher, Brynne

  “They don’t have the medical staff to fill their needs and even fewer clinics. These organizations count on volunteers. It’s not like I’m moving there. It’s two weeks.”

  “Doesn’t make me feel any better.” Grady sighs. “I’m being strong-armed by my baby sister when all I really want to do is lock you up.”

  I humor him. “I appreciate you not holding me prisoner like some medieval, suppressive asshole.”

  “I never should’ve put you through college.”

  It’s hard to keep the smile off my face because I know he’s giving me shit. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

  “You’ll never be a woman to me.” He keeps his eye on the highway as he takes the exit to the airport and gone is his teasing tone. “You’ll forever be nine.”

  “You’ve taken care of me in one form or another since I was little. It’s time I pay it forward.”

  His eyes cut to me before moving back to the road. “I should never have let you become a nurse.”

  I grab my backpack and unhook my phone from his car charger. “Does Maya let you believe that you rule the world, too? Because I’m pretty sure all the women in your life do exactly what they want and you just walk around in some delirious fog pretending you can control everyone.”

  He pulls up to the departure drop-off line and throws his Escalade in park before turning to me. “I have something for you.”

  He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a box, and hands it to me. I look up to him. “And I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Shut up and open it.”

  I roll my eyes and open the plain, small white box. “Earrings?”

  “Trade me,” he demands. “Give me yours and put these on.”

  I frown. “I appreciate the thought, big-bro, but these are the smallest things I’ve ever seen. You probably won’t even be able to notice them on me since they’re practically the color of my skin.”

  “Exactly. They’re battery operated and should last at least two weeks each.” He grabs the box from me and picks one up, twists the back of it, and holds it between us. “See? There’s hardly anything to the front and the entire device is located in the clasp. In a week, I want you to turn one off and the other on.”

  “What the hell?” I lean in closer to look at the contraption.

  I jump when there’s a rap on my passenger door window. I turn and it’s an airport security officer who tries to boss us through the glass. “This is a no parking zone.”

  I begin to tell him that I’m getting out, but Grady raises his voice. “CIA.”

  I look back and Grady is holding up a set of credentials and my eyes widen. “You said you contracted for the CIA. Do you actually work for them?”

  The security guard quickly moves away from the car and Grady explains, “No, but the ID comes in handy. Give me your earrings and put these in.”

  “Why do I need battery-operated jewelry?”

  “There’s a tracker in each one.”

  “You want me to wear a tracker?”

  “Yes, you’re wearing these or else I’ll take you back home and lock you up. There are plenty of other people to treat the sick around the world—my baby sister doesn’t need to be one of them. But if you insist, you’re going to wear these so I can keep an eye on you.”

  Only my brother would give me high-tech jewelry. It’s ridiculous but I’m serious when I say, “I love you.”

  “Then wear the earrings so I can at least doze at night because there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep until you’re home. I’m not looking forward to the next two weeks.”

  “I feel like a character in a bad dystopian novel.” I reach up to take off my third hole earrings. Once I get my trackers on, I hold my hair back and ask, “How do I look?”

  Grady shakes his head and sighs. “Just be careful. I don’t understand why you think you need to save the world.”

  “I don’t feel like I need to save the world. I just want to try and make it better. Especially for children who deserve more but they drew the short stick. And it’s your fault—you’re the one who saved me. I doubt I’ll be able to save anyone in the next two weeks, but I might be able to help and that’s good enough.”

  Grady stares at me for a few long moments before he leans in to press his lips to my forehead. “Be careful. Especially while traveling.”

  I smile. “Ten-four.”

  “I’m fucking serious.”

  “I know you are and I have the earrings to prove it. I promise to message you every day. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Nothing makes me feel better, but yes, message me every damn day.”

  “I’ve got to go or else I’ll be late and I don’t have the energy to run.”

  “What time did you get in last night? The alarm didn’t wake me.”

  “Late. I made some new friends.” I grab my backpack before opening the door and hop out. Pulling my suitcase out of the back-passenger door, I say my final goodbye as quick as I can before Grady can ask me about my new friends that’s really just one—specifically, his employee. “Hug Maya and the kids for me. Love you.”

  I slam the door and steer my massive suitcase toward the airport when I hear my name called out.

  “Gracie!” I turn one more time to look at my brother who’s yelling at me through the now-open window. “Love you, too.”

  I smile and give him a small wave. It’s a good thing my time with Noah Jarvis was a one-off and Grady will never find out. My brother just might turn into a murderer if he knew one of the guys who works for him slept with his sister.

  I’m moving on—starting a new chapter and it starts in Africa.

  * * *

  “Do you need your receipt?”

  I take my coffee, bottle of water, blueberry muffin, and Sweet Tarts. “No, thanks. Have a good day.”

  Stuffing the water and candy in my bag, I take the muffin and caffeine before heading to my terminal. Eyeing a group of empty seats far from everyone who feels the need to be first in line, I yelp when an arm circles my waist. My hot coffee splashes out of the lid, landing all over my clean shirt again, and I hiss, “Fuck.”

  This is all before he leans in as he holds my back tight to his front, hissing in my ear, “Fuck is right. Lower your voice or else you’re going to cause a scene.”

  My eyes go big as I try to get out of his hold. “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you. It’s not like it was hard. I find people who don’t want to be found for a living.”

  As much as I try, Noah doesn’t allow me to twist out of his hold as he plucks my coffee out of my hand and moves me in the opposite direction of my gate.

  “Stop it. Damn you. What do you think you’re doing?”

  We’re headed to a deserted gate across the way, which isn’t good because I don’t want to see him, let alone talk privately.

  “It’s my turn to play Twenty Questions. You have some explaining to do.”

  “I do not,” I grit, trying again to get out of his hold, but his grip doesn’t loosen and now the jerk is drinking my coffee. “Look, last night was great, but that’s it. In case you don’t know how one-night stands work, now is the time we go our separate ways. Me to Africa and you to places where you get hit in the head with guns. Nice knowing you, Jarvis, but that’s it.”

  “I thought you called me Noah.”

  “Not anymore. You’re Jarvis and you need to be gone. And how did you get through TSA?”

  “I have my ways.” He sits me in a chair and comes down next to me, stealing more of my coffee. “Tell me what the fuck last night was about.”

  “You cannot be for real. You work for Crew and my brother. And Asa. I’m sure you have a brain rattling around under that lush head of hair because I know for a fact, they wouldn’t hire stupid people.”

  He glares at me. “You knew I worked for your brother?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t know until you told me you lived next door to Whitetail. I know Crew owns
that farmhouse and no one steps foot on that land other than the men who work for him. And my sisters and I before Grady bought the farm across the street.”

  “Your name is Grace Cain. You didn’t think that little bit of information might be important to share? That me fucking the boss’s little sister would be … I don’t know,” he leans in, and if he were actually an alpha wolf, I might be afraid he’d reach out and bite me, “bad form? What the hell were you thinking?”

  I lean away to regain my personal space. “Honestly, I was relieved when I realized you were who you are and not some ax murderer or creeper who was going to tie me up in his unfinished basement where I’d be his sex slave for the rest of my life. I was still on the fence about you until you told me where you lived. I knew I’d walk away free, with all my extremities intact.”

  He stares at me. “Sex slave in my basement?”

  I use the opportunity to nab my coffee back. “Crew’s basement. And everyone calls me Gracie, so there. We’re even, since everyone calls you Jarvis.”

  He tips his head. “That makes no sense.”

  I shift in my seat to reach for my blueberry muffin. “But it does.”

  He sighs and slouches in his seat. I pull the top off the muffin since it’s the best part and am about to stuff it in my mouth when he reaches over and breaks off half of it. “You know, just because we shared one night does not give you open access to my breakfast. This is all I have to eat besides Sweet Tarts until I get to my first layover in Montreal.”

  He tosses the crunchy and moist goodness into his mouth, talking around my blueberries. “You’ll be fine. I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

  “Then you should stop and get yourself some breakfast on your way back to the boonies. It was nice knowing you. I’m done.”

  His dark eyes cut to me and I can tell he’s very much not done and it’s not only because of what he says next. “I’m not done.”

  I swallow and take another gulp of the nectar of the gods. “Look. Last night was good. Really good—”

  “Only good?” he interrupts.

  I pause to take another bite and he takes advantage, grabbing my coffee. “Hey. I don’t like drinking after other people.”

  He hikes a brow. “You have a problem drinking after me? You not only had my tongue in your mouth just a couple hours ago, but also my dick, and don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

  I ignore that, look away, and take another bite.

  “You not only enjoyed it, you fucking loved it.”

  I look back. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Nope. We need to figure this out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out, Jarvis.”

  “When Grady finds out about us, I might as well be a walking dead man.”

  “Wow, you’re scared? I thought Crew only hired badasses. Maybe I should report you to management.”

  He shifts in his seat again and levels his eyes on mine. “Grady recruited me. He fought for me when Asa and Crew wanted to cut me loose because of my baggage. He’s a friend and a guy does not fuck a friend’s sister. It’s a man rule.”

  I take my coffee back and roll my eyes. “Well, since there’s no us, Grady doesn’t need to know. You can sleep easy and go on pretending to be a badass.”

  “Gracie—” he growls but doesn’t get a chance to finish because a voice comes over the speakers, announcing preboarding for my flight.

  I hate people who rush to the front of the line but I’d rather be one of them right now instead of sitting here lamenting yet another one-night stand gone wrong. I grab my backpack after tossing the last bite of muffin in my mouth. “Gotta go. Have a nice life.”

  He catches me by the arm. “Stop.”

  I twist out of his hold and turn to look up at him. He’s wearing another black tee, but this one isn’t generic like the one last night. It looks like it’s been washed a million times and I wonder if he really loves Johnny Cash or if the purchase was made for the color alone. He must not be worried about needing skin glue today because he’s wearing an old pair of jeans—there’s no way he can be prepared for a butt of a gun bashed across the side of his head. His hair is less rumpled than it was when I left him, and now that I’m taking a moment to soak him in, he smells like soap—sort of spicy, like mint with a hint of eucalyptus or maybe tea-tree oil. It’s masculine and fits him, reminding me of last night when I had the chance to taste him … everywhere.

  Of the small handful of one-night stands I’ve failed at in life, I really need this one to be a ringer, and for Noah to forget about me. And not just because Noah works for Grady. My big brother would probably hunt him down and carve off his testicles if he found out about our hookup, as much as it pains me that there won’t be a repeat of last night.

  Noah was, by far, the best and most attentive lover I’ve ever had.

  And voracious.

  So voracious. And his attention to detail was something to be documented on Wikipedia. Good Lord, there wasn’t a place on me that didn’t receive his full and undivided attention.

  He was selfless in bed and that was what made me want to go there—down there. I mean, I’m not generous when it comes to blowjobs and never have been—especially on any of my few attempted one-nighters. No way in hell. But I made an exception because I honestly wanted to feel him in my mouth—to taste him. And he kept his word, right before he was about to come, he fisted my hair and pulled. But then he did something no one has ever done to me. He took his cock in his own hand, jacked off, and came all over my breasts.

  It shocked me as much as it turned me on. Then I shocked myself again at how turned on I was.

  He cleaned me up before tossing me to my back, telling me and showing me how much he liked my blowjob generosity.

  I had no idea one night with a stranger could be as intimate as it was hot. Because he did what I asked of him—he gave me a memory. He rocked my world in a way I won’t soon find my equilibrium, if I ever do again.

  “Our secret is safe with me—my brother will never have a reason to cut off your balls. You can go on with your life, continuing to glue your skin together, and forget about me. By the looks of Asa last night, they all eventually find the one and I’m sure you will, too. You won’t get any drama from me.” I hold up three fingers, even though I’ve never joined any kid-related organization because I was too afraid to leave my sisters’ side until I was in my mid-teens, and promise, “Scout’s honor.”

  He scrapes a hand down his face. “So that’s it?”

  “That’s how it works,” I answer—definitive and firm, like all good one-nighters should be.

  Strangely, he responds, “Everyone calls you Gracie?”

  I hike my backpack up my shoulder and lie, “Gotta go, I like to be at the front of the line.”

  And he doesn’t say anything else. I move past him, careful not to touch Johnny Cash as I go, and don’t look back.

  I double-time it across the concourse to my gate and fall in line behind a family of four. A mom, a dad, a son, and his little sister. They’re so much the epitome of the American dream, I bet their Labrador Retriever is at home running around inside their white picket-fenced yard. They might even have a goldfish. Or maybe one of those crab things I used to want because I thought it would be fun to paint the shell, but my aunt said no because she couldn’t stand the scratching noise they made crawling around on the rocks. Really, she just had her hands full with her own two kids and having to take custody of the four of us. Grady was never there since he left us to join the Army the day after he turned eighteen.

  “Hi.”

  I look down at the little girl wearing a dress, sunglasses, and purple flip flops. “Hey. How are you?”

  “We’re going to Canada.”

  I smile. “That sounds like fun.”

  She nods and adds, “My mommy and daddy need to charge and said I couldn’t inshagase my big brother.”

  “Remi,” her mother says in that voice that shows she’s embarras
sed and looks to me. “Sorry. But yes, we need to recharge.” She looks down at her daughter. “And repeat after me, ‘I shall not instigate an argument with my brother.’”

  She ignores everything her mother just said and responds, “I’m hungry.”

  “Of course, you are,” her dad mutters and puts a hand to his daughter’s head, giving her ponytail a playful tug.

  I finally give in to the beast that lies within me named curiosity and peek over my shoulder, scanning the bustling concourse.

  He did what I asked him to do—he’s gone.

  Releasing the breath I was holding, I scold myself because I should be happy. I mean, I am happy. Finally, a successful one-nighter.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turn back around and find a curious expression on the little boy who can’t be over the age of eight. “I’m going to Uganda on a medical mission to help sick people.”

  “You mean, in Africa?”

  “Dylan,” his mother mutters.

  I smile. “Yes, Africa. Aren’t you smart?”

  He keeps going. “Are you a doctor?”

  I shake my head. “A nurse.”

  “Do they pay you for going there?”

  “Dylan,” his dad scolds, not so quietly.

  “It’s okay.” I laugh. “No, I’m a voluntee—”

  “Here.”

  I jerk when a large hand wraps around my hip. My insides shift and twist, and I’m not sure if it’s in a good or bad way.

  “Give me that.” Noah takes my almost-empty coffee and shoves it toward the dad standing next to us, replacing it with a bigger one that’s full and steaming hot. Then he shoves a large white bag into my other hand before stealing my breath by taking my face in both of his.

  I have to shift not to spill my new coffee, holding my hands to the side when his lips land on mine. I gasp and he takes that as an invitation, or who knows, maybe because he feels comfortable with his tongue in my mouth after last night. Either way, he kisses me like he did while he was buried deep inside me, taking me and making me his before I walked out of the farmhouse.

  My head swims and I have to fight my knees to stay locked as he steps into me and flushes his body against mine, reminding me of his size, sheer strength, and how it felt when he had me pinned to his bed.