He arched a brow at the commander. “Should we be alarmed?”
“No. Not really.” Crawford scratched his temple and grinned. “That’ll be Kat. Just remember what I said. She can be a bit stubborn. After all, she is a Crawford.”
Bear let out a muffled curse. “I’ll be damned. I hear it now, too.”
“Twice in one day.” Sadie McClain, Hank’s actress wife, appeared in the doorway, with a baby girl in her arms and a grin on her face. “Heck. Twice in less than two hours.”
Twice? Brogan hadn’t sensed the CO’s arrival that morning. His chopper must’ve come in from the west.
“I hope we didn’t disturb your little one.” The commander smiled at the baby girl.
“No, not at all. Emily was just getting up from her morning nap.” Sadie crossed the room to Hank, who rose to kiss his daughter’s forehead.
Given all that Crawford had divulged, Brogan wondered briefly if it had been wise of his boss to hold this meeting in his home. Talking to spoiled celebrities and politicians about a job was one thing, but convening with a Navy Commander, targeted by a radical foreign faction capable of unspeakable atrocities, was entirely different.
The sooner the meeting commenced, the better.
As if to confirm his thoughts, Emily began to cry.
While the others fussed over the baby, he turned to the window to get a glimpse of Kat. The helicopter landed on a flat patch of grass halfway down the yard, but the two brunettes that emerged from the cockpit were too far away to discern which was the commander’s niece. His gaze shifted to the lone male exiting the back. He was immediately recognizable.
Straight shoulders, strong jaw, and sure stride—unmistakably Commander Knight.
It made sense. Crawford enlisted Hank’s help in protecting Kat, and Knight’s agency with taking out the threat.
“I do apologize, gentlemen,” Sadie said, regaining his attention. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting. I just needed to feed princess fussypants.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek and headed toward the refrigerator.
The woman hadn’t retreated across the room more than a few seconds when a knock sounded at the door. Brogan shot to his feet and followed the others into the living room, anticipation upping the flow of blood in his veins. His pulse hadn’t seen this much action in nearly a year.
Hank opened the door and stood back to let the others in. Brogan studied the two women closely. Both were around five-feet-eight inches tall, exceptionally beautiful, with brown eyes, and long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, but that’s where the similarities ended. One had a lethal grace of a trained killer, and a darkness behind her eyes that bespoke of a tragic past. The other had a similar lethal grace, but her presence flooded his body with a familiar rush of warmth.
It may have been more than six years since he’d seen her college photo, but time had turned the pretty girl into a beautiful woman. And meeting her in person intensified the pull.
“Uncle Tom?” Confusion clouded her gaze as she dropped her backpack by the door and rushed toward the commander. “What are you doing here?”
“Kat. So glad to see you.” Crawford wrapped his arms around her for a quick hug. “Sorry to pull you away from your job.”
She drew back. “Pulled away? What do you mean? I thought that was why I was here.” Her gaze shot to Commander Knight and the other woman, before settling on Hank. With a slight lift of her chin, she stepped to his boss and held out her hand. “Kat Crawford. And you are?”
“Hank Patterson,” he replied, shaking her hand.
“Ah. The owner of Brotherhood Protection. Commander Knight briefed me on your outfit on the flight out,” she said. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”
Ah, hell. Brogan’s chest tightened. The poor woman thought she was there for a job. Too bad it was only half true. She was the client.
Hank released her hand and glanced over her shoulder to the commander.
She stiffened and turned to survey the team, her brown eyes lingering on him a moment before returning to her uncle, but not before recognition had flickered through her gaze. Which wasn’t possible. They’d never met—he’d made sure of it. The recognition had to be a mistake. Or his imagination. Now that was possible. After all, their eye contact had been brief.
Although, it was certainly long enough to suck the air from his lungs, and slam his thundering heart into his ribs.
What the hell was that?
Chapter Two
When Kat Crawford’s godfather called her before dawn, telling her he needed her to go with him to Montana, she thought her overprotective uncle Tom had finally given the man his blessing to hire her into the Knight Agency.
Satisfaction had warmed her blood and increased as Brooke, his top agent, had flown them across the country. Her godfather—Jameson Knight—had told her they were headed to Montana to meet with Hank Patterson, head of Brotherhood Protection. It was a bodyguard agency that hired former military to guard celebrities, or anyone else needing protection.
Like a fool, she’d assumed he was flying her there for a job interview. The uncertainty in Patterson’s eyes proved the old “assume” adage true.
And she was the one on the ass end.
Her gaze drifted from one rugged, musclebound man to another. They wore their former military status around them like an invisible flak jacket. Fit and confident, each man epitomized bodyguard. But the instant her gaze met the final man, all thoughts of work left her brain as rabidly as the air filling her lungs.
It was him.
The SEAL she’d secretly lusted after in her youth.
On one of her many visits to the base, she’d hunkered down in the safety of her uncle’s office and watched the men training out in the yard. The scenery had garnered no shortage of hot SEALs, but there was just something about this one that had grabbed her attention and never let go. She’d even put her art minor to use and began to sketch him. He was the only man who ever made her feel soft and feminine. A feeling she’d almost forgotten.
Until now.
Being in the same room intensified that feeling, but standing in front of the older, seasoned, sexier version made her acutely aware of her erogenous zones and their lack of attention…especially the ones she never knew existed.
This was insane. She needed to get her mind back on track, but instead of treating him to the same quick scrutiny as the others, she allowed her gaze to linger a second longer to take in the changes.
Tall and still lean, he wore his dark hair a little longer, with a slight beard dusting the strong jaw she used to imagine doing all sorts of naughty things to her body. Just reminiscing made her knees weak. And she wasn’t the weak-kneed type.
The muscles in his arms and chest appeared leaner, more defined, although, it could be due to the lack of window and several hundred yards of men distorting her view. Whatever the case, she refused to chicken out and finally met his gaze.
Her heart leapt in her chest.
No wonder she could never tell if his eyes were green or brown from a distance. They were hazel, and his steady regard made her feel warm from the inside out.
Working with this man was going to be tough. She pulled her gaze away, and some of the fog lifted from her brain. He wasn’t a coworker. Her uncle had just alluded that wasn’t the reason she was there.
Wait a minute. If she wasn’t meeting with Brotherhood Protection for a job that meant…
Long fingers of concern stretched down her spine and squeezed tight.
She was the job.
Turning to face her uncle, Kat caught a glimpse of anxiety clouding his gaze before he blinked it away. Damn. Her heart dove to the pit of her stomach. This was one time she hated being right. Inhaling slowly and exhaling slower, she worked to calm the alarm racing through her veins.
“What’s going on?” Jamming her hands on her hips, she squared off against her uncle. “Why was I lured here under the pretense of working for Brotherhood Protection when
it’s obvious I’m the client?”
Admiration sparked in his eyes. “Astute as ever.”
“And you’re evasive as ever.” She sighed. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” One glance at her godfather resurrected her alarm. The last thing she ever expected was to find concern darkening his clear, blue eyes. Not good. Not good at all. Nothing ruffled Jameson Knight. Ever. She turned back to her uncle. “Okay, spill it. All of it. Don’t sugarcoat a thing.”
He grabbed both her hands and squeezed. “You’re so much like your mother. Your dad was hooked the first time he met her.”
As much as Kat loved to hear about the parents she lost before her teens, she was too concerned with her uncle and the situation. She squeezed back. “You were about to tell me why I’m in Montana on a ranch full of military men, remember?”
“Someone is threatening you because of one of my past missions.” He released her to run a hand through his hair.
Anger at this unknown man rose sharp and swift, canceling her concern. It had taken her over a year to convince her uncle and godfather that she was agent-worthy, and just when she’d finally persuaded them to give her a shot, this guy she’d never met ruined all her hard work with a damn threat. “You know I can take care of myself. I don’t need protecting.” She glanced at Hank and his silent men. “No offense. I’m a protector, not a protectee. It’s as absurd as Brooke needing a bodyguard.”
The former special forces operative stood next to Jameson with her feet apart and hands behind her back in the classic at-ease stance. “Never happen.”
“I know,” Kat said. “And I see no reason to have one either.”
“Maybe this will change your mind.” Her uncle removed a photo from inside his jacket and handed it to her, his jaw clenched so tight it cracked.
Glancing at the threat written about her across the photo of the naked, mutilated body of dead woman, she swallowed. Twice. Remembered how to breathe, then placed the photo in her godfather’s outstretched hand.
He took one look at it and cursed. “You’re getting a bodyguard.” Features tight, he passed the photo back to her uncle. “That isn’t an ordinary threat from ordinary people, Kat. They’re fanatics with no regard for life.”
“Exactly.” Uncle Tom shoved the photo in his pocket before setting his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, this has nothing to do with your abilities. I know you’re beyond capable and very smart. Hell, I’m always the first one to boast about your prowess, but this is different. If they get their hands on you, I can’t take them down, and worse than that, I fear they’ll use me and my position to further their agenda.”
Every protest forming in her brain disappeared with his last statement. “Whose demands?” she asked, heart pounding hard in her chest at the look of fear darkening his gaze.
He released her shoulders, but didn’t step back. “I recently dismantled a network of arms dealers in Syria.”
She cocked her head. “By ‘dismantled’, you mean?”
“Stopped permanently,” he clarified. “Whoever’s behind this threat is related to someone I stopped.”
Damn. Now she understood the concern. “They want revenge.” Nothing more dangerous than an irrational fanatic bent on revenge. “Boy, Uncle Tom, you like to kick over the biggest hornet’s nests, don’t you?”
A smile twitched his lips. “Runs in the family.”
She exhaled. “What do you need me to do?”
Relief eased the stiffness from his jaw and shoulders. “Do as the Brotherhood asks. Go off the grid, and hang tight until your godfather and I can figure out who’s making the threats and take them out.”
Sitting on the sidelines was not her style.
He must’ve read her expression because he grinned. “Think of it as a vacation.”
“Right.” She scoffed. “Because Montana is always the first place that pops in my mind to relax on a beach.”
He chuckled. “Figured you’d say that, so I brought you some supplies.”
“Supplies?” She frowned. “What supplies?”
“Those.” He pointed across the room to a corner where an easel sat with several blank canvases propped against the wall, along with a large sketch pad and two flat wooden boxes, no doubt full of top-of-the-line oil paints and supplies.
Damn. “You don’t play fair.” Her fingers were already itching to crack open a case and get started.
“No. I don’t.” He stepped forward to set his hands on her shoulders again. “But this isn’t a game, Kat.”
“I know that,” she replied, annoyance flaring up to burn a path to her gut. “It’s the only reason I conceded. I can take care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about.”
He released her and winked. “I’ll be fine. Jameson and his people will have my back.”
She bounced her gaze from Brooke to her godfather. Kat had hoped to be one of his “people”, but at least she knew her uncle had competent help. Although it pained her to be left out, she nodded.
“I know you wanted to start working again, after putting your life on hold to take care of your grandmother,” he said. “But this needs to be dealt with first. I promise, when this is over, we’ll talk seriously about your options.”
That was the closest she’d come to getting him to talk. Now that her grandmother had passed, Kat was ready to release the hold button on her career. Sure, she could’ve gone out and gotten her own job weeks ago, but she preferred to work with her godfather, or an agency both men vetted.
Fighting the urge to fist pump the air in triumph, she cocked her head instead. “Deal. I have witnesses to your declaration, so don’t try to deny it when you get back.”
A grin spread across his face and held up his hands. “I won’t. I promise. Now, it’s your turn. Promise me you’ll relax and pick up a paintbrush. If I know you, those trees are already talking to you.”
“Talking?” She smirked. “They’re yelling, ‘Paint me!’”
On the two minute walk up the drive, she’d already painted three canvases in her head, and sketched a fourth. Now that he’d armed her with the tools and supplied her with the time, she’d do her best to bury her concern and create a landscape to present him upon his return.
“So, you’re the painter.” A vaguely familiar blonde entered the room with the cutest baby girl in her arms. “I was wondering who’s supplies they were. Thought maybe my husband had taken up a hobby during my last shoot and forgot to tell me.”
“You’re Sadie McClain,” she said inanely, beyond shocked to find one of Hollywood’s sweethearts on a ranch in remote Montana. Of course, that’s probably exactly why the star was there. For privacy. “Hello. I’m Kat.”
“Nice to meet you, Kat. I’m also Sadie Patterson.” The woman sidled up to Hank, who slung his arm around his wife and drew her up against his side. “This is our home—which reminds me, can I get any of you something to drink?”
A chorus of “no thank you” went around the room.
“I’d like to introduce you to someone before I leave.” Her uncle set his hand on the small of her back and led her straight the sexy SEAL. “This is former Navy SEAL, Brogan O’Neal. He’ll take good care of you.”
Seriously? Brogan?
Damn. Even his name was sexy. And out of all the freakin’ testosterone in the room, her uncle had to pick the one man her body was aware of like an ember smoldering in the fireplace.
“Ma’am.” He held out his hand, and she started to reach for it, feeling the effects of his low, gravelly voice all the way down to her toes, but then his greeting sunk in.
“No need to be so formal,” she said. “I have an allergy that term.”
He nodded, his hand still outstretched. “Sorry, ma’am, I meant no disrespect.”
Again? Really?
“Neither do I…frog,” she replied, and since she had no choice but to touch him, she grasped his hand.
Heat instantly spread through her body in a tantalizing wave her favorite parts relished and clamo
red for more.
Lordy, they’d been neglected for far too long.
Which, no doubt, explained why she just stood there, palms touching, heart pounding, staring at him like an idiot. Luckily, snickers echoed around the room and broke through her frogman stupor.
She withdrew her hand and fought the urge to rub her palm against her hip to get rid of the damn tingling.
“He’s not just any frog, Kat,” her uncle was saying. “He’s an elite one.”
She lifted a brow. “DEVGRU?”
The SEAL nodded.
Her admiration for the guy ratcheted up a notch. Only the best—the elite—were part of the United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group (NSWDG), or DEVGRU. It was one of four secretive counter-terrorism and Special Mission Units (SMUs), and often referred to as SEAL Team Six. Not only were the teams’ activities classified, they usually were never commented on by the White House or the Department of Defense.
This meant, not only was the guy one of her uncle’s former SEALs, he most definitely had been one of her godfather’s, too.
Suddenly, she felt double-teamed.
“Wow.” She nodded. “I feel much better knowing I’ll be protected by an elite frog.”
“Kat.” Her uncle turned her to face him, holding her upper arms. “I need you to take this threat seriously.”
Guilt hollowed her gut, and she silently cursed herself for putting the concern back in his eyes. “Sorry. It’s just that is seems a shame to waste him on me. I’m sure Brotherhood Protectors could—”
“You’re not a waste.” Her uncle cut her off, and squeezed her arms. “Promise me you’ll do whatever he says.”
Damn, that was the opposite of what she wanted to promise. It’d taken her years to get to the point in her life where she was a peer to a man like O’Neal. Still, the last thing she wanted was her uncle going into “battle” worried about her attitude.
She forced her body to relax, brought a smile to her lips, and nodded.
That seemed to do the trick, because he relaxed and smiled too. “Good.”
Brotherhood Protectors: Elite Protector (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 2
