Secrets Collide bb-5

by Kathleen Brooks

“St. John? He’s just a pup. No, I got her.”

  “You’re retired.”

  “And you can postpone that request with a push of a button.” Cy wasn't going to yield. No one was going near Gemma but him.

  “I have a better idea. You’ll like it; it’s off the books. Take Gemma somewhere with you and keep her safe. I’ll assign the case to St. John and if anyone is looking in the files, all they’ll find is a note about her being in a safe house. They’ll find you soon, though.”

  “I know.”

  “There’ll be a jet waiting for you at LAX. I’ll call around and find a private air strip for you to land on so we can keep this off the books.”

  “No problem. I know just the place,” Cy smiled.

  Gemma watched Cy as he made his phone call. Fred licked her hand as she kept glancing around. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was off with him.

  He hung up the phone and she could see him take a deep breath. Did that mean Detective Greene couldn’t be trusted? “What did they say about Detective Greene?” Gemma asked as soon as he started walking toward her.

  “Gemma, those men who are after you are very bad men,” Cy started.

  “I think that's rather obvious, don’t you?” She was starting to lose her patience. He was hiding something and she wanted to know what it was right now.

  “They are professional killers. They won’t stop until you’re dead and whatever evidence you have is destroyed. I need you to come with me.” He was so serious that Gemma just nodded.

  “No. Wait. How do you know that? Where are we going? To the police?” Gemma fired off her questions as they came to her.

  “They are part of a dangerous international criminal ring. The tattoo I saw gave them away. It was a Roman numeral X. I’m going to take you to my hometown in Kentucky. A plane is waiting for us at LAX right now,” Cy grabbed her elbow and started pulling her down the alley.

  “You think I'm going to get on a plane with you and fly across the country to Kentucky? I don’t think so, bud. I don’t know you, and you certainly aren’t a stuntman,” Gemma said as she dug in her heels to slow him down.

  “You’re right about one of those things. I’m not just a stuntman. I’m CIA and I’m taking you into protective custody. No one can know where you are. Not your friends, family, or even the police. These men will be coming after you and I’m trying to give us as much time as possible to find a way to stop them. Now, we have a plane to catch.”

  “Do you think I’m an idiot? I don’t see a badge. I don’t know anything about you. CIA, my ass. What are you, some kind of undercover spy pretending to be a stuntman? Please, that’s so Hollywood.” Gemma laughed as she started to get angry with her rescuer. These tales were just too much.

  “Actually, yes. That’s exactly it. Now, we need to move.”

  “I don’t think so.” Gemma pulled back. There was no way she was putting her life in the hands of a total stranger.

  Bam! The sound of a bullet lodging into the brick building next to her had her diving for Cy’s outreached hand.

  “What do you think now, honey?” he yelled back as he dragged her down the alley, bullets flying around them.

  Cy maneuvered through the web of alleys and side streets as he tried to lose the member of Ten. Gemma had stopped protesting . . . for now. As he ran, his mind went back. It seemed ages ago that Cy began this journey.

  As a teenager, he had been forced to sit back and watch his three brothers head off to the Army when all he had wanted was to join them. He was about to turn eighteen, but his oldest brother, Miles, had begged him to stay and watch over the family. Their younger sister, Paige, was just about to turn sixteen and their youngest brother, Pierce, was two years younger than that. And so Cy had stuck around.

  In high school, Cy had been a nerd. He knew it. He took pleasure in outsmarting his older brothers—not an easy task for sure. He had developed muscles his senior year, but he wasn’t anything compared to his older brothers. He’d had a couple of girlfriends, but not the head cheerleader like Miles dated. And he didn’t have girls chasing after him like Marshall. But when his brothers left, he had taken his responsibility as the guardian brother very seriously. He took over all three of his brothers’ chores on their parents’ large farm. He tossed hay bales, mowed pastures, and then one day he decided it was time to try riding his dad’s old bronco.

  Cy had been bucked off, but he had gotten back on. The horse jarred every bone in his body and his ass was sore for a week, but it was worth it. The adrenaline rush made him feel alive and he sought it out time and time again. During the summers, he competed on the local bronco-riding circuit and brought Pierce along to watch. Then he had gotten into dirt track racing. He built a car, handed off some of his chores to Pierce, who had gotten old enough to handle the responsibility, and hit the dirt track at night. He was on spring break with his friends when he fell in love with bungee jumping and rappelling. He knew he was becoming an adrenaline junkie, but he loved every moment. It prevented him from worrying about what was happening to his brothers and it got him girls. What else could a twenty-year-old guy want?

  Upon returning from spring break his senior year, he took an aptitude test in his psychology class. Two days later, his professor called him into his office and discussed the possibility of a job with the CIA. “Over ten thousand apply, but I have an in with the agency. They'll be on campus next week for the job fair and I want you to meet with the head of recruitment. If he likes you, then you’ll need to take a drug test, lie detector test, and another psych evaluation,” his professor had said.

  “You seem to know a lot. Are you CIA?” Cy had asked.

  His professor smiled. “That instinct is part of why I’m recommending you to the agency,” he smiled, never answering the question directly. “And with the results of this aptitude test, I’m recommending you for covert status. Someone will be in touch.” And he was dismissed just like that.

  The next week Cy had a meeting with the recruitment agent. A full background report sat in a folder in front of the man who looked nothing like CIA. His hair was long and he was in jeans and a button-up shirt. “I see you like a lot of action; racing, riding, jumping . . . all while never being arrested.” The man hadn’t bothered to look up while he pushed aside the rather thick folder he had on Cy and pulled out another one. “Are Miles, Marshall, and Cade Davies your brothers?”

  Cy had just smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  The man looked up and took into account Cy’s cocky smile and relaxed posture. “I do. I also know about your brothers’ top-secret clearances. Did you?”

  That had Cy sitting up. “What do they need top-secret clearance for in the Army?” Cy had paused and then smirked again. “Because they’re not in the Army anymore. Figures. What are they, Special Ops?”

  “You're quick. Let’s take a drug test and then I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes for a lie detector test.”

  Cy had passed both tests. He hadn’t liked the prying questions into his life, but he had answered them. He was then sent home. Two days later, a man showed up taking a survey and asked his mother all kinds of questions. He’d then given her a new crock pot. He heard his neighbors say the same thing. That night he got a call from Miles.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean, Miles?”

  “I got pulled in from the field to talk to some douche in a suit asking all kinds of questions about you and the family.”

  “I could ask you the same thing. How’s the Army?”

  “How’d you find out? No, wait. Don’t answer that. It was the douche in the suit in the middle of the freakin’ desert—or one of his buddies. Who’s recruiting you?”

  “CIA. They want me for covert ops.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Yes. Y’all have had your chance to make a difference. Now I want mine. Paige is in college and Pierce is ab
out to graduate high school and has accepted a scholarship to the University of Kentucky.”

  Miles had been quiet for a moment. “Be safe. It takes a lot out of you to be someone you’re not. You won’t be able to tell anyone what you do. I’ll try to tame the questions on the home front, but you have to promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “If you ever need anything, you call me. I have enough security clearances to cut through red tape. Besides, red tape be damned. If my brother needs me, then I’ll be there.”

  Cy had almost choked up. He and Miles hadn’t been the closest of brothers because of age, but he had known down to his core Miles would be there for him. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  Upon gradating from UK, he immediately went to Virginia. He graduated top in his class from the academy. After his covert training at The Farm, he was shipped to L.A. to begin his undercover work. Due to his penchant for doing dangerous things, the CIA had gotten him hired as a stuntman on an action movie that needed a driver. There was a scene where he was racing a car on the ice in Siberia. The director had been so impressed he’d asked what else he could do.

  It turned out it was quite lucrative to be a little crazy. The more insane stunts you did, the higher the pay. Of course, while he was in Siberia, he was tasked with chatting up the local extras for gossip on the area. Being from Keeneston was a huge benefit. Small town gossip has always been an international pastime. Cy began telling stories of his hometown and, soon enough, the locals were telling theirs. One of which turned out to be a secret research lab for the military that the U.S. hadn’t known about.

  As the years went by, he became more and more specialized in his skills for the CIA. He could get into any VIP club anywhere in the world thanks to being in the movies and having a leading actress on his arm for the night. He taped conversations, stole incriminating papers, planted bugs, and much more.

  Miles had called him almost two years ago. “Marshall is in trouble. There’s this dog-fighting ring in Keeneston. We don’t know much more, and while these can be localized problems, sometimes they’re just a small part of a much bigger picture.”

  Cy had gotten all the information he could and then called Marshall to casually investigate further. When he found out drugs and guns were also involved, he took it to his boss. After Paul Russell, the local man who was running for Congress, mysteriously died in an abandoned part of D.C., Cy's boss told him to look into it officially.

  He sent the pictures and description of Russell’s death through the system, triggering the Department of Homeland Security and NSA to call his boss and chew him out for stepping on their turf.

  “Those pricks over at DHS and NSA want you to back off. Apparently this Sergei character is a real badass. Well, you know who’s best at catching a badass?” Cy’s boss at the CIA had asked. “Another badass. I’m not backing off and I told them that, so don’t screw this up.”

  Boxes arrived at his home in L.A. the next day. Bombings, murders, gun trades—all accredited to Sergei and his band of misfits. They all worked for a man the agency called Mr. X. Each of his troops, except Sergei, was marked with a Roman numeral ten tattoo under his wrist, the same tattoo he had just seen on the man on the fire escape . . . and the same tattoo missing from the wrist of the man who had fired at them. It was missing because Sergei was a mercenary. His only loyalty was to money.

  Cy had never before gotten this close to Sergei and he itched to capture him but not with Gemma holding his hand as they ran through the night. Instead of taking Sergei down, Cy was going to go into hiding. The only question that remained was whether Sergei knew as much about Cy as Cy knew about Sergei?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gemma held onto Cy’s large, strong hand tightly as she followed him. He was running through alley after alley until she had no idea where they were. She was thankful she’d started running for exercise or she’d be bent over throwing up by now.

  She looked up his arm and to the back of his head as he confidently ran on. He was very handsome, maybe just a bit scary due to his mysterious side. The question was, should she trust him or not? He made a pretty compelling argument for why she should go with him. Cy was dangerous looking in that sexy sort of way. The man who was after them was dangerous in an I’m-going-to-kill-you way.

  Gemma finally looked around and realized they were close to the posh part of downtown. “Where are we going?”

  “To my apartment. I need to get some things.”

  “I’m not going up to your place with you? Are you crazy? I still haven’t decided if you’re an axe murderer or not.” Cy was so the type of man her mom had warned her about. Sexy, confident, and he probably had a motorcycle, too.

  Cy just laughed. It was a low deep rumble that had her biting her lip. He was definitely the man her mother had warned her about. “That’s fine. You’ll be safe downstairs,” he answered as he slowed to a walk.

  Gemma looked down at her sweaty shirt and ran a hand through her damp hair. Hotshot over there didn’t even have a bead of sweat on his body. “What’s downstairs?”

  “A club. The bouncer inside can watch you.”

  “You live above a club?”

  “Yeah. I’m not home much, so the bouncers look after the place when I’m gone and I help them out sometimes when they need it. Works out pretty well,” Cy explained.

  They rounded the corner and Gemma stopped in her tracks. A long line of young women in sky-high heels and short to nonexistent skirts stood around as they talked and applied makeup. Cars and vans belonging to paparazzi lined the street and flash bulbs brightened the night sky. “This isn’t just a club, this is the freaking Le Vue. It’s the hottest and hardest club to get into. Trust me, I know. I tried more than once to get into that VIP section.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess you didn’t have the right connections.” Cy’s cocky smile reappeared and Gemma rolled her eyes.

  Oh, she had made it in, but it hadn’t been easy and she didn’t know the number of people she flashed in her trashy getup. But it had been worth it. She had gotten information about one of the giant movie companies paying off the most respected review critic in the industry. During her investigation, she discovered that the movie companies bought almost all of his reviews, even though he touted himself as completely independent.

  “Squeeee!”

  Gemma cringed at the high-pitched screech and Fred popped his head out of the bag and growled at the woman in knee-high leather boots and a micro-mini running over to him.

  “Cy!” The woman flipped her long hair over her shoulder and threw herself on him. Her bright red lips left a perfect imprint on his cheek as the flashbulbs from the paparazzi went wild. Wait, Gemma knew who that was. That was the actress from the summer’s big chick flick, Summer Island.

  “Hey, Autumn,” Gemma heard Cy say. Autumn Hayes moved to block Gemma out now.

  “I heard you were leaving L.A. for some Podunk town in the South. Want a going-away present?” Autumn dropped her voice when she asked her question and Gemma felt a little annoyed, somewhat jealous, and totally dumpy as she stood in her damp shirt, jeans, and trashed hair. Not to mention the woman with her exposed back and long tan legs was a knockout, rich, and famous. How could anyone not feel self-conscious being ignored by that?

  “Actually, Gemma and I were on our way up to my place for a bit. But, thank you. If you’re ever in Podunk, let me know.”

  “Gemma who? Is she that new actress on that action movie you just finished?” Autumn put her hands on her hips and looked around the crowd.

  Cy leaned around Autumn and grabbed Gemma’s hand. “This is Gemma. It was nice seeing you again.” Gemma let Cy drag her past the stunned starlet and through the VIP entrance. He ducked behind the bar and into the kitchen before stopping. “Do you want to stay here or go up with me?”

  Well, if Autumn Hayes was about to go upstairs with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right? “I’ll go up with you. Then we can go to my place.”


  “I’ll be quick. You’ll need to be too.” Cy unlocked the door and walked through a large open living room filled with dark leather furniture and continued toward his bedroom. “You can grab a drink from the fridge if you want,” he called from the depths of his room.

  Gemma looked around at the spotless, state-of-the-art apartment in confusion.

  Bachelors she knew didn’t live like this. Of course, the bachelors she knew were still stuck thinking they were in college. Some boys just never want to grow up and move past that phase of their lives. She set down her bag and Fred jumped out, trotting straight to Cy’s bedroom. Guess he made his choice; now it was time for Gemma to do the same. The question was whether she should trust Cy Davidson enough to put her life in his hands.

  Cy threw his clothes into a large suitcase as Fred sat on the bed watching him. He was trying to give Gemma enough time to make up her mind. He hoped she would decide to go with him or he’d have to take the situation into his own hands. No matter what she thought, he was going to do everything he could to keep her safe.

  He walked into his bathroom and pulled out his Swiss army knife and began to chip away at the grout between the large white tiles behind the door. He wiggled the knife under the tile and lifted it to expose a safe. Cy entered his code on the keypad and then placed his thumb on the scanner. The safe’s lock released and he opened the heavy door. He pulled out his agency-issued Glock, his weapon of choice, and his documentation proving him an employee of the CIA. He also pulled out his spare credit cards and passport under his cover name, Cy Davidson, as well as his real ones.

  Raising his t-shirt, he placed the gun at the small of his back and shoved the rest of the documents into his bag. He only had one picture in his whole apartment. On his nightstand was a picture of his family. He wrapped it in a shirt and put it in the bag before zipping it. The owner of the club was going to ship everything else to him in a couple of days.

  It was time to find out if Gemma had made up her mind. “Let’s go see what your mommy decided.” Cy grabbed his bag and scooped Fred up in his arm. He walked into the living room and found Gemma looking out the tinted windows on the far side of the room.