Soldier Protector

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Pretty pissed,” Caitlin agreed.

  “Okay, then. Let’s get her out of here.”

  Caitlin nodded. “What’s going to happen to all the Faithful?”

  “Depending on their involvement, they’ll be charged as accessories to attempted murder. Maybe even an act of terrorism. But my guess is not everyone knew what Regina had in store for the big shebang.”

  “Maybe not in detail but some knew.” Caitlin thought of Teresa and frowned. “They should all be put away for accessory.”

  “No argument there.” He grabbed his cell and texted Scarlett, letting her know they’d found Rebecca and they’d need a medical transport.

  The door opened, and thinking it was Scarlett, she started to joke that she was Superwoman-fast, but realized too late that it was, in fact, Teresa. Caitlin heard “Unrepentant!” screamed at her and something ripped through her skin, sizzling and burning as it went in one side and out through bone.

  Her last coherent thought before sinking into complete darkness was “So this is what being shot feels like.”

  Chapter 30

  The thing about getting shot is it really puts things into perspective.

  While Caitlin didn’t recommend taking a bullet to the chest, unlike Regina, Caitlin actually survived hers because Teresa wasn’t as good a shot as Zak.

  Thank God for that.

  “How’s the patient?” Zak asked, coming into the hospital room with contraband, aka chocolate bars smuggled from the gift shop. “I swear if the nurse finds me sneaking these in she’s going to castrate me.”

  “It’s fine,” Caitlin promised, reaching for the goodies. “I need the endorphin rush. Besides, I’m ready to get out of here already. I don’t know why the doc hasn’t sprung me yet. I’m fine.”

  “Well, generally speaking, a bullet wound to the chest is a big deal. That bullet missed your heart by inches, babe. When I said you were badass, I didn’t expect you to take it so literally. I never want to see that again.”

  He joked and made light of it but Caitlin knew how her almost dying had affected Zak. Scarlett had told her while Zak had gone on a burrito run during her recovery—cafeteria food left much to be desired—that she’d never seen him lose his mind with grief like that. It’d been like watching a beast mourn its soul mate. Something poetic and awe-inspiring.

  He’d also beat the ever-loving snot out of Teresa to get the gun away from her.

  Caitlin couldn’t work up an ounce of pity for her because that stupid woman hadn’t felt an ounce of empathy for the people who she’d known were going to die of the virus. The Faith of the Chosen were all a bunch of crazies as far as Caitlin was concerned.

  Most had been rounded up that day in the warehouse with the exception of a few who’d managed to get away. The FBI handled the arrests, which looked really good on Xander’s résumé, but the fact that Caitlin got kidnapped didn’t look so great for Red Wolf, though they were redeemed by saving the world. So there was that.

  They even got a hefty bonus from Tessara for recovering the sample and all the proprietary materials that were stolen.

  Rebecca was expected to make a full recovery, thank God, but just like Caitlin, she was changed from her ordeal.

  Speaking of the devil, Caitlin thought, as Rebecca walked into her room, leaning on her cane. “Hey there, they’re springing me today,” she said, smiling, still a little pale from her horrific experience.

  Zak smiled. “You look good,” he said, bending to kiss Caitlin on the forehead. I’ll leave you ladies to visit while I check and see what horror the cafeteria has in store for us today.”

  Caitlin waited for Zak to leave and then asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. A little sore, but otherwise pretty much back on track.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Hey, I wanted to talk to you before I head back to Vermont. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “All I have are a few minutes. I have gobs of minutes, actually,” Caitlin joked. “What’s up?”

  Rebecca smiled briefly, in a subdued manner. Not that Caitlin expected her to be her usual peppy self, but something was different. Rebecca drew a deep breath as she said, “I wanted to tell you personally that I’m not going back to Tessara.”

  Caitlin’s smile faded. “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve been thinking a lot about everything and I just don’t think Tessara is the right fit for me anymore. I used to think I wanted adventure, until I got a little bit more adventure than I bargained for. Danger isn’t as exciting as it’s cracked up to be. Dangerous situations are just that—dangerous. I nearly died. You nearly died. Dead is dead. I have lots of living to do. So yeah, I think I’m ready for something a bit more in the range of normal, you know what I mean?”

  The thing was, she did understand. She hadn’t said anything to anyone, not even Zak, but she’d had the same private thoughts. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to say anything until she’d had time to examine her reasons, or maybe she’d been afraid of admitting her parents might’ve been right, but the fact was Tessara was perhaps too rich for her blood after all.

  She didn’t want to worry about being shot at.

  Or her future kids being threatened.

  She enjoyed being on the cutting edge of science but there had to be boundaries, too.

  Caitlin had a hole in her chest from where a bullet had pierced her sternum, six inches from her heart.

  Six inches.

  That wasn’t a lot.

  She’d also been giving a lot of thought to her mother’s suggestion that she’d rejected, which, as of recently, didn’t sound so terrible. She knew all she had to do was make a call and the job was as good as hers. With her credentials, she could create her own team, name her salary and hours. It would be as exciting or glamorous as working for Tessara, but no one would be shooting at her head—or chest—either.

  But then, she no longer needed excitement in her job. Zak was exciting enough.

  Caitlin cocked her head and said, “How do you feel about organic skin care?”

  Rebecca smiled quizzically. “I...like it?”

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you going to expand on that or leave me hanging?”

  She smiled. “I need to make a few calls but when I have my ducks in a row, I’ll give you a call. I think you’re right, though. Tessara isn’t the right fit for me, either. Time to move on.”

  Rebecca’s smile widened as she understood. “All right, then. I’ll see you back in Vermont. My flight leaves in two hours and I still have to get through security with this sucker,” she tapped her prosthetic leg.

  Caitlin chuckled and watched as Rebecca walked away just as Zak returned.

  “Aw, I missed Rebecca?”

  “Yeah, she’s heading back home.”

  “Does she need a ride to the airport?”

  “No, I think she’s got it but you’re sweet to offer.”

  “That’s me, sweet as a pickle.”

  Caitlin laughed. “Pickles aren’t sweet.”

  “Sure they are. Those little party pickles.”

  “Hey, so Rebecca isn’t going back to Tessara.”

  Zak’s brow rose. “No?”

  “Nope—and I’ve decided I’m not, either.”

  He released a pent-up breath and the tension dropped from his shoulders like boulders tumbling to the ground. “Thank God. I know the right answer is to say I’ll support whatever choice you make, but babe, I never want to lose you. If you’re working for the evil empire, well, this kind of thing could happen again and that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

  She smiled, understanding. “Good answer. Because I’m quitting Tessara to possibly work for an organic skin care company in Virginia. It also means I’d have to sell my house and move in with you.”

&nbs
p; “Well, that works for me because I wasn’t sure how ‘Netflix and chill’ was going to work when you lived in Vermont and I lived in Virginia. Logistically, it was going to be a problem.”

  She started to laugh but then stopped because it hurt too much. She settled for a big smile. “I love you, Zak Ramsey.”

  His smile gentled as he leaned in for a sweet kiss. “I love you, Caitlin Grace Willows-soon-to-be-Ramsey.”

  Somehow, amidst bullets, a deadly virus and a crazy bunch of fanatics, love had found them and they weren’t going to let go.

  No matter what life continued to throw at them.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Colton Target by Beverly Long.

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  A Colton Target

  by Beverly Long

  Chapter 1

  Blaine Colton woke up in a strange bed. Which wasn’t that unusual, given how he’d spent the last thirteen years. But the fact that he was at Colton Manor, in one of its many guest rooms, made it not all that great.

  His parents’ home was big enough that a map would be helpful. And built soundly, with well-insulated walls, making it difficult to tell if anyone else in the house was yet awake. But just in case they were, he stayed right where he was.

  He’d arrived too late last night for any real conversation. Had made small talk with his mom and been relieved to learn that his dad was at a late-evening meeting. Then he’d looked in on his grandfather Earl, who had his own suite within Colton Manor, and had apologized for missing the man’s ninety-fourth birthday celebration. Although he wasn’t sure the old man had fully grasped who he was, Blaine had thought he seemed happy enough.

  Perhaps happier than he was. Generally, upon waking, he had a purpose. Lives depended upon it. Now, he turned his head, stared at the wallpaper with its pale green background and tan vertical stripes, and started counting. When he got to the corner of the room, he turned his head again, and did the opposite wall.

  Forty-two stripes on each side. A big room.

  He had not been raised in this showplace, aka home. It had been built long after he’d moved away. Enlisted in the army. The organization where he’d served with pride.

  Before he’d thrown it all away.

  And had to come back, in disgrace. Well, almost. Unbeknownst to him, his father, the powerful Russ Colton, had asked a favor of his even-more powerful cousin, former president Joe Colton, and with a wave of a wand or some greasing of palms, depending on your perspective of government, his discharge paperwork had been altered.

  Honorable was a much nicer word.

  Blaine owed his father—never a comfortable position to be in. I want you to come home. That’s what his father had said.

  It wasn’t as if he had anyplace else to go. His friend Rylan Bennet, who’d fallen hard and fast for Blaine’s cousin Bree, had offered to put a good word in for him with Rylan’s old security company. But he’d passed on that. Couldn’t really think about anything permanent until he did what he needed to do here.

  He’d express his gratitude to his father. But so help him, if Russ even hinted that Blaine had made worse choices than he’d made over the course of his own lifetime, it wasn’t going to be pretty. That man was the reason he’d left Roaring Springs some thirteen years ago. The reason he’d returned only sporadically, until now.

  To be a stranger in a strange house.

  Who had nothing but time on his hands. Hiding in his bed, counting stripes.

  He threw back the covers. The hell with that.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, Blaine stood outside his brother Decker’s office, located in the far corner of the top floor of The Lodge. While he’d never been inside it before, he knew, from a photo that Decker had once shared, that his two walls of mostly windows offered magnificent views of both the Rocky Mountains and, in the distance, the town of Roaring Springs.

  He opened the heavy door, and a woman sitting behind a desk, her hands on a computer keyboard, looked up. She had very short dark hair and was dressed in a black business suit. Maybe midforties. He was confident that this was Penny. Decker had mentioned his administrative assistant a few times over the years. Always favorably.

  “Good morning,” she said politely. “How may I help you?”

  She probably thought he was a lost guest, looking for his way to the coffee shop. He flashed a smile. “I’m here to see Decker.”

  “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

  He shook his head. “I’m his brother.”

  He could see the wheels turning in her head. She thought she knew Decker’s family. After all, most of them worked in some way for the Colton Empire, as his father liked to call it.

  “Blaine Colton,” he added for clarity. It wasn’t as if he expected that Decker had spent much time talking about him in the office. And he’d been gone for years. In places doing things he couldn’t talk about. Ever.

  She picked up her phone. “Your brother Blaine is here to see you,” she said. Then she listened. “Of course,” she murmured before hanging up. Now she was eyeing him with some speculation. “He’ll be right out. And he asked me to cancel his nine o’clock.”

  Decker wanted some time. Probably didn’t want him to have to hurry his explanation. Blaine owed him that. Might owe him a lot more before their meeting was over because he was here to ask a favor.

  Another debt of gratitude. He was going to have a pile at the rate he was going.

  Not a comfortable situation for a man who’d spent more than thirteen years never asking for or expecting any favors from anyone.

  He sank down into a chair, but his brother didn’t keep him waiting long. In less than two minutes, he was striding through a connecting door, his face showing very little emotion. But the rough hug and the solid pat in the middle of his back said enough. Decker was happy to have him home. Over the years, he likely had envisioned that when this moment came, Blaine might be in a casket with a flag draped over it.

  “I was going to come by the house tonight,” Decker said, pulling back.

  Blaine had suspected as much. But this wasn’t the kind of conversation one had over cocktails. Or in front of an administrative assistant, regardless of how loyal she might be. “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Decker’s office was big but not fancy. Polished wood floor and a nice rug that he suspected his brother had had some help picking out. There was a big desk, maybe cherry, and a black leather chair, placed so that Dec
ker could work and enjoy the view the windows offered. Two comfortable-looking tan leather chairs sat in front of the desk. But Decker didn’t lead him there. Instead, he headed for a round table in the corner. Four more leather chairs. They took seats across from one another. Blaine glanced over his shoulder at one of the ski pictures that hung on the wall. “Nice,” he said.

  “Taken on Wicked.”

  “I love that run.”

  “All the daredevils do.”

  “Speaking of daredevils, congrats on the wedding,” Blaine said.

  Decker flashed a wide smile. “Nothing daring about it. Most rock-solid decision I ever made. Kendall is great. Can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “Looking forward to it. I was sorry to hear that she’d been injured.” He’d heard there had been some doubt that they might save her eye.

  “Yeah. Bad days. But she’s rallied like a champ,” Decker said. “And doing well.”

  There was an awkward silence. Neither of the brothers excelled at small talk. Finally, Decker leaned forward. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

  “I got stupid.” That was the simple explanation. But his brother deserved more. “I met a woman. Honor Shayne. Very bright, hardworking, fun.”

  “Doesn’t sound all bad,” Decker said.

  “We were both officers. Normally, a consensual relationship would have flown under the radar. Unfortunately, my commanding officer was old-school and, given that I was leading a team that Honor was assigned to, he’d made it very clear that he wouldn’t view dalliances—” he emphasized the word because in the last several weeks, after hearing it over and over again, he’d begun to hate it “—favorably.”

  “You didn’t listen, and he tossed you to the curb.”

  “Kicked. Tossed is too nice of a word.”

  “Did you love her? Do you?” Decker said, amending his question for present tense.

  “Didn’t and don’t. I liked her. I respected her. I’m sorry that she got caught up in this mess. But she’s moving on. Has already landed on her feet, teaching at West Point.”