by Elle James
When she arrived at home, she climbed the stairs to her apartment and tested the doorknob. It was locked, as usual. Her car had been locked, yet someone had broken in.
She inserted the key into the lock, twisted and pushed open the door. With one hand in her purse wrapped around a small can of mace, Emily entered her apartment and looked around, not sure what she expected, but she did it, nonetheless.
The apartment was small. Searching the rooms didn’t take long. When she was certain no one else was in her apartment, she crossed to her bathroom, stripped out of her clothes, and jumped in the shower for a quick rinse.
As Emily stepped out of the shower, she heard her cellphone ringing. She wrapped a towel around herself and ran into her bedroom to answer it, only to discover that the caller ID was an unknown caller. Figuring it was a telemarketer, she didn’t answer. If it wasn’t a telemarketer and it was important, they’d leave a message.
Emily returned to the bathroom and finished drying off. No sooner had she stepped onto the cool bathroom tile than her cellphone beeped with the tone that she’d assigned to incoming voicemail. Apparently, someone did want to get hold of her and had left a message. She slipped into her undergarments, padded back into her bedroom and played the voicemail.
A voice she didn’t recognize spoke in what sounded like a computer-generated voice saying, “Roses are red.”
She frowned. Was that the entire message? Emily played it again. The same computer-generated voice repeated, “Roses are red.”
Emily’s heart skipped several beats, and her stomach knotted. The message by itself was creepy enough, but the fact that someone had left a rose on the seat of her locked car made a chill creep across her skin.
Chapter 2
“How was the race?” Gunny asked as he slathered barbecue sauce across the pork ribs he’d just flipped on the grill.
Cage snorted as he approached the lodge, his leg muscles so tight he could barely walk. His lungs still hurt from trying to get enough oxygen into his system at fourteen thousand feet. He was afraid to sit too long for fear he’d cramp. “Let’s just say I survived.”
“The altitude didn’t get to you?” Gunny asked.
“I’d be lying if I said no. Running in Colorado Springs at six thousand feet isn’t quite the same as running at eight to fourteen thousand feet in the mountains. I’m sore as hell, but I’ll live.”
Gunny shook his head. “I might have tried it when I was younger, but this old geezer just doesn’t have the lung power it takes to do that race.”
“You’re never too old,” Cage said. “There were people your age up there.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got better things to do, like run a ranch and a bar.” Gunny lifted his chin toward the lodge. “Your guys are in the basement if you want to head down there. Swede got in last night. He’s doing some last-minute computer network finagling to get you guys fully operational and your computers talking to those in Montana.”
“Better him than me. I only know enough about computers to check my email.” Cage dipped his head toward Gunny and headed up the steps into the lodge. As he reached for the doorknob, Gunny’s daughter, RJ, backed through the door with a tray full of raw meat and foil-wrapped potatoes. “You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” she asked as she skirted Cage.
He nodded. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, unless he moved back into the hotel that he’d lived in down in Colorado Springs for the past two weeks while performing his separation processing. He was close to completing that task, except for a mental health appointment at the VA hospital. He didn’t know why he was required to do that in the first place. Yeah, he’d been in battle, and yeah, he’d lost his friend. He was sad, but he wasn’t depressed. He missed his friend, but he wasn’t suicidal.
Okay, so he felt guilty that he had survived, and his friend hadn’t. Wasn’t that natural? Didn’t most guys who’d lost buddies on the battlefield wonder why them and not me?
Jake had mentioned that one of the doors to the basement was located in the kitchen. He passed through the great room, dodged tables through the dining area, and entered the kitchen through a swinging door. As there were several doors in the kitchen, he tried the first one, but it led into a large pantry. The next one led down into the basement where he found three men hovering over various pieces of computer equipment.
When Cage reached the bottom of the steps, the others turned toward him. Jake, the former ranger who had interviewed him, straightened and approached him with his hand held out. “Cage, I’m glad you made it. How was the race?”
Cage nodded. “Long and hard.”
“But you completed it, right?”
Cage nodded. There was no way he would have failed and broken his promise to Ryan.
“Did you make good time?” A tall man, with sandy-blond hair and gray eyes, approached with his hand out. “By the way, I’m Max.”
“Cage Weaver.” He shook the man’s hand. “I guess I did okay even though I was sucking wind at the summit of Pikes Peak.”
“You’re a better man than I am,” Max said. “I don’t think that I’d want to run that race. Sounds like twenty-six miles of hell.”
“I’m going to call it one and done for me,” Cage said.
“Jake tells me you’re a former ranger yourself?”
Cage nodded. “Jake and I served together on a tour to Iraq.”
Jake nodded. “Cage saved my sorry ass once when the Taliban tried to get the better of me.”
With a shake of his head, Cage corrected him. “I believe it was the other way around. You carried me out of that situation.”
“Only after you shot the guy behind me.” Jake glanced at Cage’s leg. “I take it your wounds healed?”
Cage nodded. “I lived to fight another day because of you.”
“As did I,” Jake said. “Come meet the brains of this organization. I like to think of him as the computer whisperer.”
“I don’t know about that,” said the man sitting on the floor. He rose. Straightening to his full height, he towered over the other three men in the room. His broad shoulders seemed to take up all the space, and his shock of white-blond hair made him look like a conquering Norseman. He stuck out his hand, Cage took it and the man shook with a strong grip.
Jake waved a hand toward the Viking. “Axel Svenson, meet Cage Weaver. Cage this is Swede. He keeps our computers humming and connected for all of the Brotherhood Protectors in Colorado as well as Montana. He and our main man, Hank, are the originals. Hank has entrusted me to set up and run the Colorado division of the Brotherhood Protectors.”
Jake waved a hand around the room painted in subdued, natural tones in keeping with the flavor of the lodge upstairs, but lit with bright LED lights, not giving a single shadow a chance in the basement. A bank of computer monitors lined one wall where Swede had been working. “This will be our base of operations where you’ll have access to the computers and certain databases that might assist you in your work. If you need additional digging or,” he coughed, “special research, Swede’s your guy, and he’s only a telephone call or a text away. He will be returning to Montana after we celebrate our grand opening. You, me and Max are just the beginning of the Colorado team of Brotherhood Protectors. I’ve interviewed others and extended offers. I’m just waiting for them to get back to me.”
Cage nodded toward the two doors at the other end of the room. “Is one of those the room I will be staying in?”
Jake laughed. “No, you’ll have a room upstairs in the lodge.” He jerked his head toward the other end of the basement. “Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve got.” He led Cage to the first door that had a keypad and a bio scanner that matched thumbprints. Jake keyed a couple of numbers into the keypad, and then stuck his thumb on the pad. The lock clicked, and he pulled open the door.
Cage blinked at the startling array of weaponry lining the walls.
“This is our armory,” Jake said. “Hank has equipped it with every kind o
f weapon you could possibly need to go into a wartime situation. Most of them you won’t need here in the States, unless our government is overthrown, and we need to fight to take it back.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Cage said. “Are you sure we’re not prepping for the end of the world as we know it?” Cage asked as he stepped inside the armory.
“No, but we could be deployed to other places than here in Colorado. Like I said in our interview, there might be times when we have to rescue a diplomat or a kidnapping victim from some foreign location where there are a lot of hostiles.”
Cage wandered around the room, touching the smooth metal of an AR15 and the pistol grip of a Glock 9mm handgun. “And how do you plan to get these weapons past TSA?”
Jake grinned. “Hank has connections with pilots and aircraft that can get us where we need to go and back.”
Cage shook his head. “Who needs the government when you have the Brotherhood Protectors?”
Jake’s jaw hardened. “You’d be surprised how many people can’t rely on the military or civilian law enforcement to get the job done. That’s where we come in.” He stepped out of the armory, and Cage followed. The other door was another storage room filled with every kind of equipment imaginable that could be used in a tactical operation, including communications devices, bolt cutters, night vision goggles, scuba gear and so much more.
Jake chuckled. “Hank wanted to make sure we didn’t have a reason to decline a job.”
As they came back out into the main room, Swede was just finishing putting the computer back together. “Did Hank let you know he’d be here on Friday?” the Viking asked. “And he’s bringing Sadie, Emma and McClain.”
Jake nodded. “I hear Kujo, his wife, and Six are coming as well. I already let Gunny know so that he could have some rooms set aside for them. We’re planning on a grand opening with a few select guests who are friends of Sadie and Hank’s.”
Swede grinned. “That’s code for potential clients.”
“I hope so,” Jake said. “The sooner we get to work the better.”
“What are you talking about?” Max said. “You and I have already solved our first two cases.”
Jake nodded. “Those were just for practice.”
“And thank goodness,” Max said. “Otherwise, RJ and JoJo might not be here today.”
Jake smiled. “Exactly. I can’t imagine life without RJ.”
“Nor my life without JoJo,” Max said. “We’re a couple of lucky bastards.”
“Yes, we are. And we proved our abilities to serve and protect others,” Jake drew in a deep breath and glanced around at the basement headquarters of the Brotherhood Protectors Colorado division. “All the more reason to have this place up and running and fully connected with our base in Montana. There are people out there who need our help.”
Swede shoved the computer console back under the desk and fired up the monitors. He took a seat, and his fingers flew over the keyboard. When all the monitors blinked to life with various data, Swede nodded. “We’re in business.”
“Yes, there are people out there who will need our particular skills to keep them safe,” Max said. “Paying customers.”
Jake’s brow furrowed. “Something we need to keep in mind, yes. It’s good when we make money, but that’s not what we’re all about. We’re here to help people who need the help whether they can pay or not.”
“I don’t understand.” Cage frowned. “If we don’t make money, how do we afford to live?”
Jake smiled. “Hank and Sadie set up a trust fund. What money the Brotherhood Protectors make will go back into the fund, and you all will be paid out of that fund. So, don’t worry; we have smart investors making sure that the fund never runs out of dollars. That way we don’t ignore the people who can’t afford our services.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Cage said.
Jake glanced around the room. “Now, if we’re done here, there’s a steak and some ribs with my name on them.” He waved an arm toward the staircase. “Let’s join the others.”
“I could put away a steak,” Swede said.
Jake laughed. “I’m betting you could put away two.”
Swede patted his flat belly. “Gotta keep up my girlish figure.”
Jake clapped him on the back as they walked toward the stairs.
Cage followed, and Max brought up the rear. They emerged from the basement into the kitchen where RJ and another woman were gathering paper plates, knives, forks and cups.
“Oh good,” RJ said. “You guys can help.” She handed a stack of plates to Jake, a basket full of knives, forks and spoons to Max and handed a pitcher full of lemonade to the other woman. “By the way, this is JoJo.” RJ tipped her head toward the dark-haired woman. “JoJo, the new guy is Cage Weaver.”
“Hello, new guy, Cage Weaver.” JoJo set the lemonade on a counter and grabbed a tablecloth and napkins from a drawer. She stacked them on top of the basket of silverware and handed them to Max but then changed her mind, taking it all away from him. “No, better yet, you take the ice chest full of beer.”
“Deal,” Max said with a grin.
RJ rescued the lemonade. JoJo hefted the silverware, tablecloth and napkins and headed for the door.
Everybody had something to carry except for Cage. “What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Shoot! I almost forgot,” RJ said. “There’s a tray full of dinner rolls in the oven. Pull those out right now before they burn. You can carry those out.”
“Roger,” Cage said and went in search of an oven mitt.
“Top drawer to the right of the stove,” RJ called out as she backed into the swinging door leading out into the dining room. “And the basket beside the stove is where you’ll load the rolls.” She held the door for the others and let it close when they’d all passed through.
Cage found the oven mitt, opened the oven and pulled out the tray of dinner rolls, setting the pan on the stove. One by one, he plucked the hot rolls from the tray and tossed them in the basket with a towel in it as RJ had instructed. In the process of moving them from the tray to the basket, he dropped one on the floor.
He muttered a curse and bent to pick it up, his sore muscles screaming in protest. The roll had landed beneath the kitchen table. He had to get down on his hands and knees to retrieve the bread. As he reached beneath a chair, the swinging door’s hinge squeaked, indicating someone had entered the kitchen. He assumed it was RJ coming back for something forgotten.
With the roll in hand, he straightened in time for a pretty, auburn-haired woman to run smack dab into his chest. She let out a startled yelp and stepped backward so fast she tipped and would have fallen if Cage hadn’t reached out and grabbed her arms.
Her green eyes widened. “Let go of me,” she said, struggling to free herself of his grip.
Immediately, he released her.
She had been leaning away from him so hard that when he let go, she staggered backward again, and would have fallen if he hadn’t reached out and steadied her. This time though, he didn’t grab her arms. He looped an arm around her waist and crushed her to him.
“Please, let go of me,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Hey, lady, I’ll let go of you as long as you can stand on your own feet. Rest assured, I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
She stopped struggling and looked up at him. She let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “I’m okay. I can stand on my own.”
He dropped his arm from around her waist and stepped back.
This time she didn’t stumble. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I’m Cage Weaver, and I work here.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t. Gunny, RJ and JoJo work here.”
He held up the dinner roll in his hand. “Okay, so I don’t work here at the lodge, but I do work in the basement.”
The wom
an’s eyes widened, and she let out a sigh. “Oh, you must be the new guy.”
He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m the new guy, Cage Weaver.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Jake and Max have been talking about you. I thought tomorrow was supposed to be your first day.”
“Actually, it is, but they wanted me to move in tonight. I had something to do today, otherwise, I would have been here earlier.” He leaned around her and sank the dinner roll in the trash basket. “You know who I am,” he said. “Do you mind telling me who you are?”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “I’m sorry.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Emily Strayhorn, a friend of the Tates.”
He took her hand in a firm grip, careful not to crush her fingers.
“RJ sent me in for the tray of condiments.” She tipped her head toward a collection of ketchup, mustard, steak sauce, barbecue sauce and salt and pepper.
“Tell you what,” Cage said, “I’ll carry the condiments if you’ll carry the dinner rolls.”
He grabbed the basket full of rolls off the counter, handed them to her and then collected the tray of condiments. “And, please, accept my apologies.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For scaring you.”
“Oh that,” she said. “I’m sorry I reacted so violently. I guess I’m a little touchy.”
He led the way to the swinging door and backed into it, holding it open for her. “Has something got you spooked?”
She nodded. “Just a little bit.”
They were halfway across the dining room when RJ burst through the front door. “Oh, good. There you are. Everything else is out on the table. We’re just waiting on you guys.”
“Coming,” Emily said.
Cage followed her out onto the porch where a long table had been set with enough food to feed an army.
“Hey, Cage, what do you want to drink?” Jake leaned over the ice chest, digging through the ice.
