Millie wiped her palms down her front as though flicking off lint then sat on the couch facing the rooms. Colt remained standing.
As soon as the guard exited the house, the left-most door opened and a salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman stepped through. Admiral Benjamin Porter was a man in his late fifties. He had a lean build and was of average height—five-ten, if Colt were to guess. He was well-known in agency circles simply as “The Admiral.” An urban legend to those who’d never met him, a master manipulator to those who’d crossed his path and gotten burned, but, to Colt, he was the person he trusted to hold the rope as he was pulled up a dicey cliff.
“Colt, Millie,” Porter said. “Glad you could come at such a short notice.”
“Didn’t realize we had much choice,” Millie replied dryly.
The admiral’s serious features barely moved except for a slight lifting at the corners of his mouth.
“Everything okay at the diner?” Porter’s eyes were on Millie, before shifting to Colt. “How about you, Lieutenant? I hear you’ve got a full calendar at the training camp.”
His companion frowned at the admiral. It wasn’t like Porter to engage in small talk. Colt took a good look at the older man and noticed that, despite the way he’d tried to keep his expression neutral, there was an uneasy vibe flowing off him.
“Let’s cut the chitchat and get to the point,” Colt suggested.
Porter’s mouth flattened and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “I need you both to keep some assets for me.”
“Misty Grove isn’t as obscure as it used to be,” Colt reminded him. “And I’m getting the sense these are high-value assets.”
“They are.”
“And you don’t have anyone who could protect them better?”
“You and Millie are the best for the job.”
He gave a derisive huff. “Gotta do better than that, Porter.”
“I don’t have all the information at the moment,” the admiral replied. “Too many moving parts to this investigation, and it’s a long shot …”
“A long shot to what?” Millie asked when Porter faltered as if he’d almost said too much.
The admiral shook his head. “Can’t say. You have to trust me.”
“Is someone looking for your HVAs?”
“Yes.”
“On a level of one to ten, how dangerous are the people after them?”
“Eight,” Porter responded without missing a beat.
Colt locked eyes with the older man who returned his gaze for all of three seconds.
“Okay. It could be ten or it could be a non-issue,” the admiral amended.
Colt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He needed to ask specific questions. “You’re handing us informants—assets who you need to be kept safe while you investigate your lead on a threat you have yet to disclose. Dangerous people are after them. Correct?”
“I’m still assessing the level of danger.”
Colt raked his fingers through his hair and glanced at Millie, who looked ready to unleash her scathing tongue on Porter. His own patience was wearing thin. “To protect them as best we can, we need to know what we’re up against. You need to give us something.”
Porter expelled a resigned breath, the expression on his face so alarming, even Millie turned rigid. Uncertainty wasn’t a good look for the older man and definitely made people around him nervous.
“They’re more than your regular assets.” He handed them the folders he had tucked under his arm. “They are our evidence that someone’s been performing disturbing genetic experiments.”
Colt grimaced. “Fuck. Not again.” He reached for the folder and flicked it open, his eyes reading the brief summary of their new charges. “You’re shitting me.”
“There must be some mistake?” Millie exclaimed, bewildered.
Porter shook his head. “Afraid not.”
“Twins? Eight-year-olds?” Colt growled. “Someone is experimenting on children?”
“Nothing new there,” the admiral muttered.
“Are they Enhanced Soldiers?” Millie asked.
“We’re not certain. We got them out less than forty-eight hours ago.”
“I have no experience with kids.” The diner owner raised her hands as if to wash herself of the responsibility.
“Didn’t you go undercover as a nanny?” Porter asked.
“That hardly makes me qualified.” She glared at the older man. Then her demeanor changed, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You’re uncomfortable dealing with them.” Millie chuckled. “No—you’re terrified.”
“Hardly a laughing matter,” Porter growled.
“Why foist them on us?” Colt asked. “I’m hardly qualified either. Remember the last time you put me in charge of teenagers? They terrorized and ran off an agency housekeeper.”
“That’s why I asked Millie to come,” Porter said. “If I recall she can deal with little terrors.”
“The most revered CIA strategist and yet so clueless as to who can handle your eight-year-old assets,” Millie mocked. “You should’ve asked Kate. She raised two sets of twins, you know.”
Colt stiffened.
“The CIA isn’t exactly high on Kate Foster’s trusted list,” Porter said.
“The agency tried to kill her when she was no longer useful,” Colt muttered. Every time he thought how Kate and her siblings were to be put down like rabid dogs, his blood boiled.
“I wasn’t part of that and you know it.”
Colt agreed it wasn’t fair to lump Porter with the motherfuckers who were responsible.
“You and Millie are the only people I trust with Josh and Olivia, but I need you to set aside your feelings for Kate and be objective.”
Colt puffed a short, derisive laugh. “Hardly relevant.”
“On the contrary,” Porter said. He was about to continue when the middle door of the three rooms opened and a dark-haired boy emerged. Colt caught the wary look on the admiral’s face.
The boy was followed by a blond girl dressed in ill-fitting pink polka-dot pajamas, a ratty teddy bear dangled from her left hand. Porter cleared his throat. “Josh, Olivia, come say hi to our guests.”
Colt’s chest contracted painfully at the sight of the girl. Millie swore under her breath as she rose slowly from the couch, her gaze transfixed on the eight-year-old female.
Olivia … golden curls, her nose, the color of her eyes … Jesus Christ, Colt had only seen those remarkable crystal blue irises on one other person.
“This can’t be,” Millie croaked.
“Kate,” Colt whispered.
* * *
“I could kill Ben Porter for this,” Millie muttered past him as she followed Olivia into a Walmart fitting room, carrying pieces of clothing.
“You and me both,” Colt agreed. Josh was more independent than his sister and insisted on trying clothes on by himself. The admiral had sent some morons to get the basic necessities for the kids. The clothes were either too small or too big. Walmart wasn’t the best place to buy quality clothing, but it was the only store open at two a.m. This was also one of the establishments where Colt could control the surveillance cameras and put them momentarily in a loop. More than a decade of providing a safe haven for agency operatives taught him a couple of tricks that made life easier.
Josh was a pensive boy who was clearly protective of his sister. Olivia was mute … or close to it. She’d spoken three words since they’d been introduced. According to Josh, she hadn’t been this way until six weeks before when men in white coats dragged his sister away.
It took all of Colt’s self-control to rein in his anger as the admiral gave him a summary of what he knew, which amounted to very little, unless the older man was withholding information. Porter was waiting for a complete DNA analysis, but Colt knew without a doubt Olivia was Kate’s daughter, and, if Josh was the girl’s twin, then he was her son.
But who was the father?
Jealousy burned through his veins. Porter told hi
m not to jump to conclusions, that they weren’t sure if Kate had been pregnant with the twins or if they’d been a product of genetic experiments. The admiral suspected the latter because, if Kate knew she had children, wouldn’t she look for them? Christ, he had a date with her that night, but that wasn’t happening. Not with this going on. These kids needed him while Porter did what he had to do. Colt sure as hell couldn’t sit across a table from Kate and act normally anyway. The universe must be laughing at him. He finally got Kate to go out with him and he’d have to call her and cancel.
“I’m hungry.” Josh’s voice broke through his riotous thoughts.
“We’ll be home soon, buddy.”
“I’m. Hungry.” The boy repeated a lot louder and with more emphasis. He pointed to the rack of chocolate bars.
Great. Kids loaded with sugar were just what he and Millie needed.
“Let’s wait for your sister and Millie, okay?”
Josh nodded, a hesitant look crossed his face. “Are we meeting Mom soon?”
“What?” Colt quickly blanked his face, but his gut twisted at the unexpected question.
The boy exhaled deeply as if frustrated at having to explain himself. “The man who took us …”
“Porter?”
“The old guy?”
Colt’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.”
“No. A bunch of men came to get me. One of them said our mom was looking for us and that they would take us to our mom.” Josh’s face looked dejected. “It’s been two days. The old man … the admiral? He said we’ll meet her soon but … he sent you and Miss Millie.”
Colt silently cursed the admiral.
“Did they lie?” Josh asked, backing away from Colt.
Shit.
“Josh …”
“You and Miss Millie don’t even like us.”
The boy was astute and sensitive. Dammit! How was he going to explain this in the middle of the Walmart children’s section?
“Millie and I were taken off guard.”
“Off guard?”
“Surprised.”
“Oh.”
“We weren’t prepared for you and your sister,” Colt admitted. “The reason your mother isn’t here is because the admiral wanted to make sure she really is your mom.”
“Is that why they put Q-tips in our mouths?”
He nodded.
“You’re a good guy, Mr. Colt,” Josh declared. “I thought you didn’t like us, but I think it’s because you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Call me Colt.” He cocked his head, baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“I feel things.” Josh shrugged. “I didn’t tell the admiral, but I feel I can trust you. The white coats call me an empath.”
His muscles locked, but years being a Navy SEAL took over. Empath wasn’t a common word for an eight-year-old to know, so Josh must have been told enough for him to say it easily. Colt needed to get them out of here and quick. Porter told them to treat Josh and Olivia like normal kids and Colt was beginning to see the admiral’s motives clearly. If the children were relaxed enough, they’d start talking. Colt glanced around and was relieved when Millie returned with Olivia.
“We need to go,” he gritted as the diner owner frowned at him.
“Mr. Colt, I mean Colt,” Josh began. “Is everything—”
He gripped the boy’s shoulders, bending at the waist so they were face-to-face. “You need to be careful what you say in public,” he said in a low voice. At the boy’s expression, he sighed. “Let’s get you home.” He nudged the boy forward. “Go get your candy.”
Olivia’s eyes brightened when she heard him. She grinned at her brother. Jesus. Even her smile reminded him of Kate. The girl entwined her fingers with her brother’s and, together, they headed to the racks of candies by the counter.
“Really, Montgomery?” Millie said beside him. “Can I say pushover?”
He glanced at the older woman who had an amused look on her face.
“I swear I’m gonna fuck this up,” he muttered.
Millie patted him on the shoulder. “You got this, my friend.” She dumped the clothes in the cart and joined the kids. Colt gave a slight shake of his head and went to check out.
7
Colt
Her phone rang until it went to voicemail.
Cursing quietly, Colt skipped leaving a message and, instead, called her again. He hated to break their date over the phone, but he couldn’t leave the ranch just yet. The kids were still asleep, Millie was getting ready to prepare breakfast, and he’d hardly slept a wink. It had been a long-ass night.
Voicemail again.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
“Shouldn’t we get the kids up?” Millie asked from the kitchen. “They haven’t had any real food save for the candy you let them eat. And that’s not real food anyway.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue with Millie on that one. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at his phone.
“Can’t your call wait until later? It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“They turned in at four a.m.,” he countered. “Let them sleep for another hour.”
“Fine,” Millie groused. “As long as you have no problem with them staying up late tonight.”
Colt wanted to pull his hair out. He had no clue about children’s sleeping schedules. He probably needed to read some parenting books or use good ole Google.
The older woman’s face softened at his apparent frustration. “We’ll get it right.” She glanced at his phone. “Who were you calling?”
“Kate.”
“Uh, why?”
“I was taking her out to dinner tonight.”
Millie winced. “Oh … wow. Didn’t know you’d finally asked her out. Shit timing, Montgomery.”
“Yeah,” he agreed in resignation, but what else could he do?
“Look, there may be a silver lining to all this.”
“I’m not seeing it, Millie. Kate’s not exactly a fan of the admiral. And if Josh and Olivia are indeed her progeny, I can imagine how she’ll hate us for helping him keep this from her.”
“Our priority is the welfare of the children. My guess? He picked me to get them settled in, but his ultimate goal is to involve Kate, once he confirms the DNA analysis.”
“I don’t feel right about this.”
“Neither do I. But Porter has a point. We have to tread lightly on this. We can’t simply spring this on Kate, not after what happened with Piper.”
Colt stared at his phone again.
“Make your call,” Millie said. “I’ll get the kids.”
He nodded and thumbed Kate’s number.
Voicemail.
Resisting the urge to sigh into the phone, he said, “Hey, babe, something’s come up and I have to take a raincheck on our date tonight. I’m really sorry. I was looking forward to seeing you and … I’ll … uh … talk to you soon.”
Colt hung up before he rambled on. Christ.
He tapped the phone on his mouth, wondering who he could trust to help with the kids. Millie was okay in a visiting “aunt” sort of way, but he really needed someone who had experience with kids as young as Josh and Olivia.
Mac. Of course!
Dugal “Mac” Mackenzie was his ranch manager. He was a former recon Marine and former military working dog handler. His children were all grown up and he’d been divorced for more than fifteen years. Surely, he could help out. Colt grabbed the ranch radio.
“Mac, you there?”
After a few seconds, his voice crackled through. “Boss.”
“When you’re done with the horses, can you come over to the house?”
“I was wondering when I’d get to meet our new guests.”
Colt chuckled. “Can’t get anything by you, old man.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a ranch manager if I weren’t aware of the comings and goings in this place.”
“Remind me to give you a raise.”
“S
o you always say.”
“I have a feeling this time you’ll be demanding one.”
“Got me curious, boss.”
Colt put down the radio and headed to the kitchen. Millie had the pancake batter ready. If these kids exhibited Enhanced Soldier traits, stocking the fridge was a good idea. The oven was set to four hundred degrees and there were two sheets of bacon ready to go in. Mac usually prepared breakfast for the ranch hands and Colt joined them when he could. For the next few days though, Millie and he agreed to give the kids a semblance of home.
A shuffle of feet in the hallway drew his attention. Colt turned and saw Josh walking beside Millie who was carrying Olivia.
“She didn’t wanna get up,” Josh explained.
Olivia lifted her blond head from Millie’s shoulder and rubbed her eyes. “Sleepy.”
“You gotta eat, Liv,” her brother said.
“Sleep, Josh.”
Millie locked eyes with Colt and mouthed, “She’s talking.”
He grinned and put the trays of bacon into the oven. “Well, Olivia, your brother is right. Now, don’t make me feel guilty about letting you have that candy last night.”
Olivia looked at him and scrunched her nose and then turned back to Millie’s shoulder to muffle a giggle. Damn, this kid was going to steal his heart just like her mother. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he berated himself for getting ahead of facts yet to be proven.
“Morning, Mr. Colt,” Josh said as he planted himself in a chair. He grinned sheepishly. “I mean—”
“No problem. Call me whatever you want.”
Millie deposited the girl in the chair beside her brother. She walked over to Colt and nodded to the kids. “I got this. Why don’t you keep them company?”
“Uh …” He looked uncertainly at the eight-year-old twins who were eyeing him curiously.
“Colt …” His friend leaned in closer. “They won’t bite.”
Unexpected Vows Page 5
