by Kaylea Cross
After eating, Kevin helped her tidy up and took the bags. “Oh, almost forgot,” he said, pausing to pull a set of keys out of his pocket. “Surprise.”
No way. “You picked up my car?”
“Yep. Nick dropped me at the garage. I’ll take your rental back for you, too, so you can get some extra sleep tomorrow morning.”
“God, you’re the best.” She threw her arms around him and gave him a big squeeze.
“Also true.” He hugged her and traded keys.
“It’s parked out front in my usual spot.”
“Okay. Hey, it’s even got a remote starter on it. How come the rental cars I get never have remote starters?”
“Because you’re cheap.”
“Frugal,” he corrected on his way to the door. Once there, he stopped to glance back at her with a searching look. “Sis? There are no do-overs. We have to make every minute of this life count.”
“Yeah, I know.” His words were going to haunt her. It seemed that while she’d been chasing down her goal of becoming a lawyer and being hired as an Assistant U.S. Attorney, she’d stopped living somewhere along the way.
Facing the mess on her desk after her brother left and shut the door behind him, that truth hit home harder than ever. A sinking feeling took hold in her gut and it was impossible to shake it off.
No, Rowan. You deliberately chose this. Just like you chose to walk away from what you might have had with Malcolm.
Regret settled heavy in her stomach, a hard lump she could no longer ignore. Yup, she’d made a big mistake with him. The question was, did she have the guts to try and fix it?
At least the food and pain relievers had made her feel better physically. Ready to put in another few hours, she sat at her desk and opened the file she’d been working on before Kevin showed up.
A loud boom from outside ripped through the quiet and shook the room, making her jolt.
“What the hell?” Heart hammering, she spun around in her chair to look out the window. What she saw made her heart lurch into her throat.
Down in the parking lot out front of the building, her rental car was on fire. And Kevin was lying crumpled on the sidewalk nearby it.
“Kevin, no!” Guilt and apprehension all but choked her. She shot to her feet, grabbing her cell phone to dial 911 as she raced for the door.
Chapter Seven
“Malcolm,” Pops said on the other end of the phone, a warm smile in his deep voice. “Good to hear your voice, son. Wait, it’s Tuesday. You got the day off?”
“No, I’m on a special assignment right now for my commander, but I had some downtime and thought I’d call home to check on you guys.” He leaned against the safehouse condo kitchen counter, gazing out at the city view beyond the living room window. Lockhart was down in the lobby checking with the building’s security team, and Oceane and Anya were settling into the bedrooms.
“Gram and I are both fine. What assignment are you on?”
“Protective detail,” was all he said, because he couldn’t say more.
“So you’re bored to tears then, and decided to call to kill some time.”
Mal grinned at Pops’s dry humor. “At least I called.” He and Lockhart were basically glorified babysitters for Oceane and her mother in this high-security condo not far from the capital. Out the eleventh-floor window on the east side of the unit, Mal could see the distinctive white dome of the capital building in the distance.
“True, and we’ll take what we can get. When are you coming home for a visit next?”
Always the same question. “Hopefully a short one at the end of summer. Might be a bit later than that, before we deploy to Afghanistan this fall.”
Pops grunted. “They keep you busy down there, that’s for certain.”
“They sure do.” Except right now this assignment was making him nuts. It gave him way too much time to sit around and think about things he ought not to. Meaning, Rowan. “How’s your blood pressure been lately?”
“Good.”
“Pops. How is it?”
“It’s fine,” Pops growled in annoyance. “Gram makes me check it three times a day. She knows way more about all my bodily functions than any wife ever should.”
“Because she loves you and wants to keep you around as long as possible.”
Another grunt. “You know, before I met her I asked God for a strong, loving woman. And lord have mercy, that woman is strong.”
Mal laughed. “She had to be, to hold her own with you.” His grandparents were both strict but fair, and they’d provided Mal with a stable, loving home after losing his mother.
Pops was the disciplinarian. Mal had been expected to keep a tight routine while he lived with them, with bible reading in the morning before breakfast, grace before every meal, bible study after dinner, and prayers every night before bedtime. Church every Sunday without fail, staying to help with Sunday school and to serve and clean up the parish luncheon.
He’d hated Sundays with a passion back then, but in hindsight those community hours and scripture had helped forge the core of the man he was today. Pops had been the one to drive Mal with his schoolwork. He demanded respect and integrity, but he’d also given it back in return.
He’d also been the one to encourage Mal to join the military after high school, find a purpose and an outlet for the youthful energy and anger still burning inside him after his mother died so young. Without Pops there to push and guide him, Mal’s life might have turned out very differently.
“Just goes to show you, son. When you ask God for something, be careful what you wish for.”
“That’s a good point, Pops.”
“Another pearl of wisdom I’m passing on to you while I’m still here and have all my mental faculties.”
“You don’t have all your mental faculties,” Gram called out somewhere in the background. “You haven’t had them all for years.”
“When I said strong, I didn’t mean in the form of a sharp tongue,” Pops complained to Mal.
The familiar banter between them, the bond that had been forged by nearly fifty years of marriage, set off a twinge in Mal’s chest. They were both in their eighties now. He could lose them at any time, and even though he was a grown man with his own life hundreds of miles away from them, he wasn’t ready to lose either of them. They were all the family he had, aside from his teammates.
“How is everybody on your team?” Pops asked.
“Great. Busy.” FAST Bravo kept a breakneck pace in training and operational tempo. They had to, to remain sharp and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.
Sometimes the constant grind wore on him, although it wasn’t much different from when he’d been in the SEAL Teams. Their mission profile was different now but the skill sets were mostly the same, and they operated in maritime conditions often. “Well, actually, one of our guys had to fly home yesterday to see his mom. She’s got advanced MS and he doesn’t know how much longer she has.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Gram and I will say a prayer for her.”
“He’d appreciate that.” He paused. “It got me thinking about how short our time on earth is.”
“The lord has a plan for us all. He calls us home in his own time.”
“Yeah.” Pops’s unshakable faith was one of the things Mal most admired about him. He even envied it a little. A faith that strong would have been a comfort to have in those long, horrible and lonely months after his mother passed away. Though he’d done his prayers and bible study and gone to church, he’d never believed in the same way Pops and Gram did. “Can I talk to Gram for a bit?”
“Sure. Hang on.”
Gram came on the line and instantly demanded whether he was eating right, taking care of himself, and whether or not he was seeing a nice girl yet. “I’m not getting any younger, Malcolm. I’d like to see my great-grandbabies before I die.”
“I’ll get right on that, Gram,” he said in a wry voice, but of course it made him think of Rowan. So far
she was the only woman who he could see himself marrying and having a family with one day. So babies weren’t even on the distant horizon for him now.
“Only after you find a good woman and enter the holy state of matrimony, young man. If you ever got a woman pregnant outside of wedlock I’d make you sorry you were ever born.”
The threat made him smile, because he understood she was completely serious. There had been a time when that kind of threat made him roll his eyes and think his grandparents were uptight, religious zealots. There had been a time when he couldn’t wait to be of age so he could move away and have the freedom he craved. Now he missed them like hell and wished he got to see them more often.
Funny how life worked sometimes. It didn’t matter that he was thirty-four years old. He was her baby and always would be. “Yes, ma’am.”
His phone beeped with an incoming call. Seeing it was his commander, he ended the conversation with Gram. “Sorry, I have to take this. As soon as my schedule clears up a bit, I’ll see when I can come up for a visit.”
“We’d love that. You take care, now. Love you.”
“Love you too.” He ended the call and picked up Taggart’s. “Sir.”
“Freeman. I just got a call from the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
Mal’s attention sharpened at Taggart’s grim tone and he turned away from the window. “And?”
“There was an explosion outside the building about half an hour ago. They think it was a car bomb.”
His stomach grabbed. “Anyone hurt?”
“Yes. Rowan Stewart’s brother.”
Shit. “What happened?”
“He’d dropped in to visit her and was about to return her rental car for her. He was fifty feet from it when it detonated.”
Jesus Christ. “Is he alive?”
“As far as I know. They were transporting him to the hospital when I got the call.”
God, Rowan would be frantic. And if someone had planted explosives in her vehicle, then she had been the intended target.
A shockwave of protectiveness blasted through him. “They have security on scene yet?” He needed to know she was safe.
“Yep, everything’s locked down.”
“What about Rowan?”
“She’s at the hospital now with her parents.”
“Have they got security there for her?”
“Not sure.”
Mal didn’t like it. Despite their breakup, he would never leave her vulnerable to a threat if he could help it. “Her brother’s a friend of mine. I’d like to check on things personally.” Well, more of an acquaintance now, but he needed a reason other than Rowan to go to the hospital.
“Why don’t you put in a call to Hamilton, then. See if he’ll cover for you with Lockhart while you go to the hospital.”
“I will. Thanks.” He ended the call and immediately dialed his team leader, impatience humming through his veins. He needed to get to the hospital right the hell now, see Rowan for himself and make sure she was safe.
****
SA Brock Hamilton spotted Victoria the moment he stepped through the door of the secure, private government gun range.
He had the entire day off, a rarity, and the first he’d had in a damn long time. He’d been looking forward to it for more than a week, planning to spend it parked in front of his TV with a few cold ones, and maybe even take a nap later on. Precious few things could have persuaded him to give that up, but then her text had come in this morning and he couldn’t say no.
Because it was Victoria and he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
She stood over in the far corner, back to the wall, constantly scanning the room. Assessing everyone in it to discern whether or not they were a threat, even with her U.S. Marshal security detail close by.
The two marshals spotted him first. He knew them, from the night they’d come to escort Victoria from the hospital to the WITSEC Safesite and Orientation Center.
Brock gave them a chin nod by way of greeting, then Victoria’s restless gaze connected with his from across the room, and warmth spread through him at the relief that flashed in her deep brown eyes.
The corner of her mouth lifted a fraction, on the verge of a smile. The first hint of one he’d seen since finding her in the woods that night months ago, when he and his team had stormed one of Ruiz’s hideouts down on the Gulf Coast. She’d been naked, beaten and bloody with a fucking collar and chain hanging from her neck, running for her life. He’d never forget that first sight of her as long as he lived. It had haunted him ever since.
Her happiness to see him surprised him almost as much as the text she’d sent him a few hours ago, asking him to meet her here. And damned if knowing the sight of him made her feel safe and at ease didn’t compress something inside his chest.
He smiled back and closed the distance between them, careful not to move too fast. She looked like a completely different person now.
Her long, tangled brown hair was now cut into a sleek, jaw-length bob. She’d put some weight on since the last time he’d seen her. It looked good on her. Her body still too slender for her frame, but at least now she didn’t seem half-starved, the hollows beneath her cheekbones less pronounced.
His eyes stopped on the light blue scarf wrapped around her throat. Since it was summertime and hot as hell outside, it wasn’t a fashion statement. She’d worn it to cover up the scars around her throat from where that sickening metal collar had bitten into her tender skin. He’d seen the damage firsthand and watched the medical staff clean and dress her wounds. The bruises and cuts on her face had healed, the shadows under her eyes faded. But the shadows within them were still there, and might never disappear.
Brock stopped a foot or two farther away from her than he would someone else, so that she wouldn’t feel crowded. “Hi.”
Her lips curved up a little more. She was tall, around five-eleven or so, only a few inches shorter than him. He liked the way she looked him in the eye. “Hi. Thanks for meeting me.”
“No problem.”
She gestured to the marshals, who were standing a discreet distance away to grant them a semblance of privacy. “They only allowed this because I asked you to come. Apparently the powers that be really think a lot of you.”
“Well that’s good to know.” He was proud of the reputation he’d built, both back during his SF days, and as a FAST operator. With a half-smile at her he cocked his head, intrigued. “So, what are we doing here?” She’d been mysterious about that. Meeting her at a shooting range wasn’t something he’d ever thought would happen.
“I want you to teach me to shoot,” she said, folding her arms and shifting her feet apart slightly.
Brock hid his surprise. “Yeah?” Why him?
She gave a decisive nod. “If you’re willing.”
Oh, she might be surprised to learn that he was willing to do a lot where she was concerned. “I might be. Depends on why you want to learn, though.”
She broke eye contact, looking to the left at a group of FBI agents Brock knew checking in at the counter. “You know why.”
He thought he did, but that wasn’t good enough. “I want to hear it from you,” he added softly.
In the weeks following her rescue he’d become a bit of an expert on Victoria Gomez, reading everything he could find about her. Her investigative columns and articles in various newspapers and magazines. The two books she’d published on Mexican drug cartels, including one on the early days of the Venenos. The events leading up to the attack that had made her their prisoner.
He knew every detail about how she’d been taken, from various reports. Her entire extended family had been gunned down in front of her at the dinner table at her parents’ place in Houston. Ruiz’s men, acting on his orders as punishment for the article she had published and the book she was working on about him. They’d taken her to a hideout at a rural property on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi and subjected her to weeks of degradation and suffering that still twisted his guts t
o think about.
Now those deep brown eyes shifted back to his and held, the memory of that night an unspoken link passing between them. And the flash of fire he caught in her eyes gave him hope. Hope that she was stronger than what she’d endured. Strong enough to bury the assholes on the witness stand who’d done this to her, and then build a new life for herself. A safe, secure life somewhere new.
“I want to know how to protect myself properly. Because I never want to be a victim again,” she told him.
Damn right, sweetheart. What she’d been through still kept him awake some nights.
Until her, Brock had never been affected like this by a mission. Maybe because for him, it was personal with Victoria.
He’d been the one to carry her out of the woods the night she’d fled her captors. He’d held her wrapped up in a blanket in the back of that van until the ambulance came. She’d been terrified, in shock and in pain. She’d clung to his hand on the ride to the hospital, and he’d stayed at her side until the medical staff had sent him from the room.
And when they’d finished treating her injuries and completed all the tests, he’d kept vigil at her bedside through the night, because she’d asked him to stay. It was possible she didn’t even remember that, because they’d sedated her, but she had. Even though they were almost total strangers, on some level she must have instinctively trusted him to watch over her while she slept, even in a drug-induced haze.
Even if she did remember it, she had no idea how deep she’d gotten under his skin that night. No one did.
He forced his mind back to the present. “Okay. I’ll teach you.”
The fire faded from her eyes, replaced by gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He paused a beat, keeping his eyes on her even though he wanted to catalogue every feature on her face. “You want your first lesson right now?”
“I was hoping for that, yes.”
Spending his precious day off teaching her to shoot so that she could regain some sense of safety and control sounded like the best thing that had happened to him in forever. “What kind of weapon are you thinking?”
