HOT Angel_Hostile Operations Team_Book 12

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Brooke: I have to go now. But thank you, that was sweet. I’ll text you again sometime.

  Cade sighed as he put the phone down. Apparently he was becoming a pro at scaring Brooke Sullivan off. Maybe he just needed to let the idea of getting to know her die a quiet death, and move on…

  Chapter 2

  Brooke walked into the lobby of her building and waved at the security guard on duty. “Hi, Bert. How’s Amy’s ankle today?”

  “The swelling’s gone down and she isn’t crying anymore.” Bert shook his head. “Poor kid had a rough couple of days, but she’s getting better. Her mama is babying her something fierce.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Brooke said with a smile. “It’s good to hear Amy is getting better though. I’m sure she’ll be playing again in no time.”

  “She will. Thanks for your concern.”

  Brooke headed for the elevator. She didn’t know Bert well, but she liked him. And she liked his wife and daughter too. They were a sweet family. “Tell Shelly and Amy hello for me.”

  “I will. Have a good evening, Miss Sullivan.”

  “Thanks, Bert. You too.”

  Brooke waved again as she stepped into the elevator. When it closed, she sighed. She was typically an extrovert, but she was so done with people for the day. All those big men in Grace’s house. The yelling and laughing. The sheer size of them and the way they filled a room. And every one of them capable of killing with his bare hands.

  It was too much. It unnerved her.

  She got off on her floor and headed down the hall, keys in hand. Max would be ready to go outside for a potty break. She tried to move quietly so Max didn’t start barking. But you couldn’t fool Max. He started barking just as she passed her neighbor’s door.

  Which of course meant the door opened and Scott stood there. He was tall and thin with wire-rimmed glasses and a chiseled jaw. A somewhat handsome nerd with a mop of brown curls who didn’t make her flinch with his mere presence.

  “Brooke.”

  “Hi, Scott.”

  His warm gaze skimmed her body. It didn’t make her tingle the way she had when Cade Rodgers did the same thing earlier. She told herself that was a good thing. Scott was safe.

  “I’ve got some lasagna in the oven if you want to have dinner in about an hour,” he said.

  “I’ve just come from a friend’s house where I ate far too many football-party snacks. But thank you for asking.”

  He looked disappointed. “Oh, right. Well, stop by for some wine then. I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  “I’ve been working on a client account.” She flipped her keys. Max didn’t stop barking. “I’m pretty tired, but maybe if I get a second wind, I’ll knock on your door.”

  “It’s been nearly two weeks since our last date.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy. Thank you again for the flowers you sent.”

  “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.”

  Brooke didn’t know whether the blush of embarrassment she felt was for herself or for him and that corny line. “That’s sweet of you to say.” She turned her head to gaze down the hall. “I’d better let him out. He’s going to have a fit if I don’t.”

  “If you change your mind about dinner, just knock.”

  “I will.” She stood there awkwardly, cursing herself inside for ever agreeing to go out with this man. He was truly sweet and she was a jerk for letting him think there was a chance they could have a relationship.

  Oh, she’d thought when she’d first said yes to his invitation that maybe he was the one who could get her beyond this drought. He was a nice man. A safe man. An accountant at a manufacturing firm. Just the sort of non-threatening kind of guy she needed.

  And yet he didn’t do anything for her. The kiss he’d laid on her after that first date hadn’t done a damned thing anywhere south of the border. In fact, it had made her want to run fast in the opposite direction. So what had she done instead? She’d said yes to another date. Like a fool.

  Four dates in all and there was no spark. No response. At least Scott was gentle and hadn’t tried to push her beyond a kiss, but she could tell he was starting to get frustrated with the lack of progression.

  Before she could extract herself, he bent and planted a quick kiss on her cheek as if he had the right. As if they were a couple. It shocked her and annoyed her all at once.

  “I’d love to see you tonight, Brooke. No expectations.”

  She pressed her fingers against her cheek. No tingle. No sizzle. No spark.

  “I’ll try,” she said, though she cursed herself as she did so. Because why? She didn’t want to try. She wanted to take Max out and then put on her jammies and cuddle up with Netflix and some Doctor Who.

  “What time do you think?” Scott pressed.

  “Um, around eight.”

  “Okay. I’ll chill some pinot grigio.”

  “Okay.”

  Scott backed into his apartment, still smiling, and then closed the door. Brooke stood there for a moment longer before turning and hurrying to her own door. Dammit, why had she let him maneuver her into that? Why couldn’t she just say no thanks and it’s been great but I can’t see you anymore, at least not romantically?

  Because she had no spine, that’s why. My God, she’d certainly told Grace how to handle Garrett back when he’d been her bestie’s bodyguard, but she was no longer capable of taking her own advice.

  With frustrated tears in her eyes, she inserted her key and unlocked the door. Eighty pounds of German shepherd waited for her with wagging tail and excited barks.

  “Maxie! How’s my baby?” Brooke exclaimed, dropping to her knees and hugging the squirming dog.

  Max responded with a lick of her cheek. Brooke laughed. She’d never thought she was a dog person, but after the kidnapping she’d decided she needed a big dog to make her feel safe. She’d researched breeds and gone with a German shepherd because of their loyalty and reputation as good guard dogs.

  They’d had some tough moments during potty training, but Max was the best decision she’d ever made.

  Brooke grabbed his leash and snapped it on, then took him back down the elevator and out to the nearby dog park. After he did his business and she picked it up, she let him loose inside the area reserved for big dogs. It was empty at the moment, so it was permitted. Brooke took one of the Frisbees that lay nearby and threw it for him. Max bounded after it in a flash, and Brooke laughed at his enthusiasm.

  They played for a long while, and then Max took off to explore the enclosure. Brooke’s phone buzzed.

  Scott: I made a ganache for dessert. I know how much you love chocolate.

  Brooke sighed and huddled into the light jacket she wore. Her fingers hovered over the box to reply, but she ended up closing out the conversation as a wave of anger rolled through her. Why should she answer right this second? Why make him think she was hovering over her phone and waiting to hear from him?

  The last conversation she’d had with someone was right under the one with Scott. Warmth glowed in her belly as she opened it up and perused it again. What had she been thinking to message Cade Rodgers in the first place?

  Truthfully, she’d been smarting a bit from the tour of Grace’s proposed nursery. Not because she wasn’t happy for her friend but because she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever have a normal life again. She tried to imagine herself married with a baby on the way, and all that happened was that panic flooded her, twisting and turning and making her feel sick. What if something happened to her baby? What if someone tried to take him or her?

  Before she could stop herself, she typed, Did your Cowboys win today?

  She waited five minutes for a response. When nothing happened, she pocketed the phone, surprised to feel a wave of disappointment. She whistled for Max, then clipped on his leash and they went home.

  She’d just set Max’s food bowl down when her phone buzzed. She took it out, dreading that it was another message from Scott—but
it was Cade.

  They did. So did your guys, I see.

  Now why was she glowing inside? Win some, lose some.

  Cade: So they tell me.

  Sorry I was so abrupt earlier. I just freaked a little.

  Cade: It’s okay. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.

  Her heart throbbed. What was she doing? Talking to this man, even via text, was opening herself up in a way she’d already discovered with Scott that she wasn’t ready for. She thought of Cade earlier, his muscular body and soulful eyes, the way he looked at her, and that same pleasurable shiver she’d felt before skipped down her spine.

  You didn’t. It’s me.

  Cade: I’m listening…

  I’m not all that relaxed with men like you. Men in your profession, I mean. Men who are as comfortable with weapons as they are with breathing. It unnerves me. There, I said it.

  Brooke held her breath, but the thought bubble that appeared while he was typing reassured her. Because he was answering instead of just putting the phone down and backing away from the crazy.

  Cade: I wasn’t on the team that rescued you, but I know about it. And I understand. But you know what, Brooke? I think, considering most of the men who were on the op were there today, which means it had to be on your mind when you looked at them, that you’re pretty incredible.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t feel incredible. If anything, she felt worthless and stupid for still dwelling on what had happened almost two years ago. She hadn’t really been hurt, though she’d been threatened and she’d had a gun held to her head. She’d also been fondled and forcibly kissed, though she hadn’t told anyone about that. Not even Grace. What good would it have done? Grace would have felt more guilty than she already did, and Garrett wouldn’t have been much better. He’d been held with her for a while, and she knew that it killed him he hadn’t been able to get her free sooner.

  She’d put on a brave front in the aftermath of the incident, pretending everything was okay, being strong for Grace. But she hadn’t been okay. The nightmares had only been the beginning of her descent into paranoia and fear.

  But she would get right again. It just took time. She sniffled and swiped her eyes so she could see the phone.

  I’m not but I’m trying.

  Cade: I hesitate to say this, but I’m gonna anyway. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.

  I appreciate that. I went to therapy for a while. I’m not sure talking more will help.

  Cade: Nevertheless, I’m here. I’m not a therapist, but I know what it feels like to be out there in the thick of it and to deal with the kind of people who kidnapped you. You can’t shock me with any negative feelings you might have about them.

  Like I want them all to die? Stuff like that?

  Cade: That’s right. Some people don’t deserve to live. It’s not my place to make that decision, but they often make it for themselves when they do bad things. If I’m sent after them, I’m going to finish the job.

  That right there is what makes me shiver, Cade. That attitude.

  Cade: I know. But I won’t hide who I am from you. I’m Special Forces. I fight battles and I kill people when necessary. If I don’t believe I’m doing something for the greater good, then what does that make me?

  Brooke shuddered. I have to go now. Have a good evening.

  Cade: You too.

  Brooke put the phone down and closed her eyes as she leaned back on the couch. Part of her wanted to keep texting him, and part of her said it was time to shut it down. Really, if she was smart, she wouldn’t contact him again. In fact, she’d block his number.

  But she wasn’t all that smart apparently. Because she knew, without a doubt, that she’d text him again.

  Chapter 3

  The dinging of his phone woke him at midnight. Cade rolled over and grabbed the device, wondering if there was a recall at HQ or something.

  But it wasn’t that at all. It was a message from Brooke: I can’t sleep.

  He frowned as he pushed upright to sit against the headboard. Me neither.

  It was a lie, but so what? She didn’t have to know that.

  Brooke: I shouldn’t have texted you this late. I’m sorry. But I figured you’d have your Do Not Disturb on and wouldn’t answer if you were asleep. And if you were awake, well, maybe you’d talk to me.

  Talk for real or talk like this?

  Brooke: Like this for now.

  What did you want to talk about?

  Brooke: You said you understood. What those kinds of people were like, I mean. I don’t think most do. My therapist— Well, she said that I had to learn to let go. That it would take time. But it’s been almost two years, and I don’t feel any more normal than I did after it happened.

  I can’t fix it for you, Brooke. I don’t know what to say. But I can tell you that being pissed for a very long time is perfectly normal to me. Hell, I’m still angry about some of the missions I’ve been on—some of the people who did terrible things to others. You don’t just get over that.

  Brooke: You won’t tell Garrett or Grace about this, will you? I mean about what I’m saying to you, not about us talking.

  He appreciated that she’d clarified that. Not that it would have made a difference in his answer. Not if you don’t want me to, no. Besides, I don’t routinely share the contents of my private conversations with a gorgeous woman to my friends.

  Brooke: Grace gets upset because she feels guilty about what happened. Because those men wanted her and her brain. I was just a bit of leverage—and disposable at that. If not for Garrett, I think they would have killed me.

  He hated that she carried that burden. They would have killed you and Garrett both. And they would have killed Grace once they had what they wanted. You were no more disposable than they were.

  Brooke: You think that’s true?

  Absolutely. People like that only want power—everything else is secondary. Once they’d gotten what they wanted from Grace, she’d have been disposed of.

  Brooke: I still have nightmares sometimes. I’m in my house, in my bed, and I hear a noise. And then there’s a hand on my mouth and I scream but nothing comes out. When I wake up, I’m in a room with a big, hulking man who speaks with a Russian accent. He is not nice.

  There was a long pause but the thought bubble was still flashing, so he waited.

  Brooke: I dream it, but that’s what happened. They took me from my bed. I don’t feel safe anymore.

  Cade wanted to break something. And then he wanted to hold her. Neither of those things was happening though.

  I understand, but let’s walk through this a bit. He was thinking of her physical security, thinking that if he could help her plug any holes there, she might feel a bit better. At least for a short time anyway. You live in a house or an apartment?

  Brooke: Apartment. I bought a condo and sold my house. I’m on the 8th floor.

  That’s good. Means nobody’s coming through a window.

  He didn’t tell her that he could do it. Hell, any of his guys could. With the right equipment and a plan, they could get into anywhere.

  He continued, You have an alarm system?

  Brooke: The building has security, and I had an alarm installed on my door. I also have a dog. A big dog.

  That’s all good. What about cameras?

  Brooke: No cameras. I should get some.

  If they make you feel better, yes. Sounds to me like you’ve got a pretty good system there. What kind of dog?

  Brooke: German shepherd. His name is Max. Really it’s Max von Barkenstein, but we go with Max for short.

  Cade snorted. Max von Barkenstein. Cute. Can’t get a better guard dog. I’d say you’re good to go. Nobody’s surprising you in the middle of the night again.

  He didn’t tell her that a determined foe could still get to her because she didn’t need to hear that.

  Brooke: Thanks. I guess I still wake up in a panic sometimes, but I know it’s not going to happen. Mostly.


  Do you feel safe right now?

  Brooke: I do. I’m in bed and Max is stretched out beside me. The windows are all shut, the balcony door is locked. The front door is dead-bolted. The reasonable part of me knows all this. But I still panic.

  Understandable. He thought for a minute, wondering if he should go in the direction he wanted to go or not. He’d either scare her or he’d get her mind off the things worrying her. So you’re in bed, he began. What are you wearing?

  He added a winky face and hoped she didn’t take offense.

  She sent back a laughing-so-hard-I’m-crying emoji. What’s next, Cade? A dick pic?

  He snorted. No way. I don’t send dick pics. It has to be seen in person to be believed.

  Oh my God, you did not just imply your dick is amazing, did you?

  You said it, not me. He sent the wow emoji back.

  She sent back an eggplant. He laughed. This girl was too fun.

  You planning to tell me what you’re wearing or not?

  Brooke: I’m wearing my Wonder Woman jammies. T-shirt, shorts, no bra. Very exciting.

  I could get excited about that. How short are the shorts?

  Brooke: Very.

  Don’t suppose you’d send a selfie? He added the laughing emoji.

  She didn’t respond and he figured he’d scared her off. But then a picture came across his phone and his heart practically stopped. Her face wasn’t in it, but there was a close-up shot of boobs stretching her shirt and little tiny shorts hiked up to the tops of her thighs. She was lying in bed, soft light spilling over her skin.

  Cade’s dick went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat.

  * * *

  What in the heck was she doing?

  Brooke’s heart slammed against her ribs as heat flooded her. She’d just sent a picture of herself to Cade. A picture of her booty shorts and the strappy tank top that barely contained her breasts. Her double-D breasts.

  Max watched her with that puppy head-tilt thing dogs did. Brooke groaned. “I know, Max. What was I thinking? I just sent a strange man a pic of me in my jammies.”