Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  “I’m going to make sure he gets to his room okay,” Willow said as she started to follow him.

  “Thank you,” Natalie said numbly.

  Left to themselves, a silence fell over the group. Dwayne was the first to break it.

  “I don’t know how to feel.”

  “Flattered,” Jamie suggested. “He wouldn’t go to such trouble for people he didn’t care about.”

  “I’m going to go with that,” Jai said.

  “Well, you should. You’re obviously the favorite. He set you up with a relative,” Dwayne said before turning to Andrea and adding, “You’re beautiful and talented and my whole world.”

  “Next time, lead with that,” she said as she patted his arm.

  “So, while we were running around thinking that you were injured, you were getting it on?” Jamie asked.

  “That’s not our fault,” Jai said quickly.

  “I would have thought my lab would be the first place you checked,” Natalie added.

  “You got it on in the lab?” Dwayne laughed. “Is that even sterile? Or is it too sterile? I don’t know how to make fun of you.”

  “Well,” Natalie said as she drew herself to full height, “this situation is far too awkward for me to deal with right now. Would anyone care to host the party in my stead? It is a conference, so as long as the alcohol holds out, there will be very little to do.”

  Dwayne’s hand shot into the air. Before Natalie could respond, he had grabbed Andrea’s hand, and they were both running down the hall back to the dinner. Jamie put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. With a quick glance toward them, he offered a warm smile.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie said.

  He nodded and headed down the hall. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

  HOPE AND HYPOTHERMIA

  Chapter One

  Jamie Hardy pulled his coat closer against the cold as he jumped out of his truck. He had taken full advantage of his boss’ offer to get out of town. The desert heat had been welcome after their stay at Mads’ castle. It was still hard to wrap his mind around the fact that his boss had his own Scottish castle. Weirder still that stoic, rational, forever-playing-the-role-of-refined-nobility-Mads was a covert matchmaker.

  From what Jamie could see, as bizarre a thought as it was, Mads was actually pretty skilled at picking out couples. Daren was blowing up Jamie’s phone with engagement ring pics, completely out of his element trying to find one that Rebecca would like without letting her know he was looking around. Meanwhile, Rebecca kept asking Jamie if he thought Daren would be down for her proposing to him. He was kind of interested to see which one got the courage first.

  Dwayne and Andrea were still going strong. As always, Dwayne’s fascination with Mads overrode any underlying unease at knowing that someone had managed to manipulate him. Even so, Jamie was pretty sure that Dwayne would forgive Mads for almost anything. He had a working theory that Dwayne had some parental issues that he projected onto Mads. It was a little weird, given that they were almost the same age.

  And the count’s latest success was Mads’ very own cousin, Natalie, now happily paired off with Jai. That left Jamie as the only single person at their office. Aside from Mads himself, of course. And Jamie couldn’t help but feel a little insulted at that. Not that he wanted to be set up or anything. But he liked to think that it was possible to find someone who might consider him a catch.

  He had never been so ready for a solo camping trip in his life, and he had seen several tours of action. The time off had been just what he needed, although his muscles were now aching to take a swim. Next time, he’d choose something a little closer to a body of water. Pulling his duffle bag out of the back of his truck, he headed around to the main entrance of the office. It was a little tucked out of the way, and clients often found themselves wandering into Willow’s flower shop by mistake.

  His pace staggered to a halt when he caught a glimpse of Willow through the shop window. Around this time of day, she should have been bustling about, doing something or other. Instead, she was just sitting behind the counter, with a mile-long stare and the little fluff ball of a dog Mads had given her in her lap.

  It only took a few strides for Jamie to push the front door open a few inches. The jingle of the little bell above the door made Willow jump, and she snapped her head up.

  “What happened?”

  “What? Nothing. I just–”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” Jamie cut in. “Let’s just skip past all the lies you’re about to tell me. What happened?”

  Willow shook her head, the motion pulling a few more tendrils of curly hair out of her messy bun. She waved him in, and he was quick to obey. He let his duffle bag drop to the floor as he rested against the counter.

  “Mads went to see my old–”

  “Boyfriend and sometimes stalker?” Jamie offered.

  “You’ve spent too much time with Dwayne,” she grumbled.

  “Sorry,” he smiled. “Bad attempt to break the tension. Mads went to see the man you have a complicated history with. The one that has been sending you shots of Mads’ parents.”

  “Just of his mother,” Willow corrected. “And I want to state again, I didn’t know that it was his mother.”

  “I know.”

  “Or that she had been abducted when he was just a little kid.”

  “I know, Willow. Please, keep going.”

  She took in a ragged breath and, when she spoke again, her words were slower and more controlled.

  “He insisted on going alone. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Jamie’s body suddenly went tense, gearing up for a fight. “How many days?”

  “Three.”

  “And no contact?”

  She shook her head again. “None. He won’t even open the door when I go by his house. Do you think you can give it a try? Or kick the door down?”

  “Get your jacket.”

  Jamie had known Mads for years. In all that time, he had never even heard of Mads being late, let alone leaving a call unanswered. Something was wrong. And, given that their line of work centered on getting in between dangerously disturbed people and their victims, when something was wrong, it could be brutally, murderously wrong.

  It didn’t take long for them to hurry through the city to Mads’ rather impressive home, but the trip wore on Jamie’s nerves. His mind kept flicking through all the horrors that could be inflicted on a person in three days. It was a long list, and one that he knew all too well. The second his feet hit the ground, he had his cell phone on his ear.

  The team had set up a system that allowed for automatic conference calls. With one touch, Jamie called everyone at once. One by one, they answered, joining the conference call with short, professional responses. No one used this function unless it was important.

  “Has anyone had eyes on Mads in the last three days?”

  The chorus of ‘nos’ made his gut twist. It only took a few short sentences for Jamie to raise the alarm and have them all converging on Mads’ house. He wasn’t about to wait for them, though. He jogged up the steps with Willow close by his side, her attention fixed on him with startling intensity.

  Willow tried the door, found it locked, and instantly began to pound on the solid surface. The music was so loud that even Jamie could barely hear her from a foot away. When there was no response, he stomped his foot into the door handle. The well-practiced strike splintered the wood and weakened the lock. One solid shove of his shoulder, and the door smashed open.

  Willow rushed inside before he had a chance to catch her. Muttering under his breath, Jamie pulled his handheld firearm from his shoulder holster and hurried to keep by her side. It seemed that the sight of the weapon reminded Willow that this might actually be a dangerous situation, and she allowed him to take the lead.

  Moving from the foyer, Jamie kept his gun high as he swept the large living room. Among the antique furnit
ure and expensive artwork was a sea of empty wine bottles and takeout food. That was a bad sign – and not just because of the mess and the vast amount of alcohol. Mads had been born and raised on fine foods. His palate might have changed slightly when he entered the army, but takeout was something he only had when the others forced him into it.

  Jamie glanced over his shoulder to catch Willow’s eyes. She pushed her toe into one of the many empty bottles and looked around the room with worried eyes. He walked across the room to the elaborate sound system and, with relief, turned down the music.

  He left it playing softly, his brow furrowing when he realized that the song wasn’t anything like what he had heard Mads playing before. Once again, the man was a reflection of his upbringing. He relished classical music and opera. For Mads, pop music was a cry for help.

  His fingers tensed around the handle of his gun when Mads came around the corner. It was a sight Jamie couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. It just didn’t seem real. Mads’ usually pristine hair was now a halo of silvered gold in disarray around his head as he danced his way into the room. It looked like he had tried to take his shirt off but had given up somewhere along the way. Given his bare feet and what looked to be the ridiculously expensive bottle of wine he had in hand, Mads was obviously drunk. Still, he moved with more fluid and grace than Jamie could ever hope to obtain.

  Mads twisted and turned, his feet moving to the barely-heard song, keeping up with the rapid beat without conscious thought or effort. He didn’t seem to notice either of them as he danced across the room on his way to the sofa.

  Jamie holstered his weapon and held up one hand, ready to either have to catch him or block a swing. “Mads.”

  Mads staggered to a halt, blinking slowly like he was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. Slowly, a smile spread out across his face, growing to show a flash of white teeth. It occurred to Jamie that he had never actually seen Mads’ smile in such an unrestrained fashion.

  “Jamie!” Mads cried happily, and he wrapped Jamie in a hug that was somehow tight and loose limbed at once.

  Words flew rapidly. However, they were all in Lithuanian, and Jamie didn’t speak a word of it. With both hands in the air, he tried and failed to get Mads to switch to English; it seemed that he was ready to switch to everything but. Jamie realized that he didn’t know many languages that Mads spoke. It was pretty impressive.

  “Tyla,” Willow said sharply, and Mads’ mouth instantly snapped shut.

  With him standing still, it was easier to seer to see the effects the drink was having on him. He wobbled slightly, his blinking slow and his smile sloppy.

  “What the hell did you say?” Jamie said as Mads remained waiting in placid stillness.

  “Silence,” Willow shrugged.

  “He taught you his native tongue?”

  “He taught Brahm all his commands in Lithuanian,” she corrected with an annoyed smirk.

  “Well, thank God you guys have a fur baby together,” Jamie muttered as he began to coax Mads toward the nearest chair.

  “That’s not really how it is,” she said hurriedly.

  Jamie shot her a look as Mads flopped out across an armchair that probably cost as much as Jamie’s truck. “Could we maybe focus on him right now?”

  “Right, sorry.”

  Willow rushed forward and grabbed the wine bottle from Mads’ hand before the contents could slosh over the floor. Mads instantly missed the loss and tried to sit up. But it seemed like now that he was down, he didn’t have the strength to get up again.

  “What happened, Mads?” Jamie tapped the drunken man’s foot until Mads gave a grumbled moan. “Keep it to English, please.”

  “I went and spoke with your ex,” Mads said. His arm flapped around as he blindly waved toward Willow. “Your ex, not his.”

  His usually crisp words slurred together, rolling like the ocean under his thickening accent. It sounded nice, but was hard to understand.

  “Oh, he is not the killer. Well, he is a killer. Legally. A trial decided that. But he did not kill my parents.”

  “Mads,” Willow said softly.

  “You have horrible taste in men,” Mads said. “That must be noted, because I am not quite sure if you know that. Horrible, depressing, twisted enough that I have questions about your mental health, bad taste in men.”

  “I’ve been getting better,” Willow protested.

  “I am worried about you,” he whispered. With his slur, he sounded like a hissing pipeline.

  “He mentally manipulated me.”

  “I feel like we’re getting off topic,” Jamie cut in. “He’s not the man that killed your parents?”

  “No,” Mads wailed like a ghost. “He had received the photographs from another source, just like our little tree.”

  “Tree?” Jamie mouthed.

  “I think he forgot the word willow,” she whispered.

  “There are a lot of words,” Mads defended himself.

  Jamie sat down on the edge of the sofa and sympathetically patted Mads’ leg. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “I am a digestible human being.”

  “Are you trying to say detestable?” Willow asked.

  “Words!” Mads bellowed.

  “You’re not detestable,” Jamie assured him. “There isn’t a proper way you’re supposed to feel in this kind of situation. It’s worlds of messed up.”

  “I am horrible because I am relieved. The man that butchered my parents is still out there, and I am relieved. What kind of son does that make me?”

  “It doesn’t make you anything,” Jamie said.

  “You do not understand.”

  “Yeah, I do. You’ve fought like hell for years. Being told it’s time to lay down the sword is pretty scary.”

  “What would I become?” he whispered. “Everything in my life is built solely upon my rage. My work, my friends, the way I act. All of it has built to a point that I should be able to find the man that destroyed my parents.”

  Willow shuffled closer to his side. He snatched the bottle out of her hand.

  “And get away with killing him, of course.”

  “What now?” Willow said.

  “I plan to horribly murder the man that killed my parents. Brutally.”

  “He doesn’t mean that,” Jamie said.

  “I have a torture chamber,” Mads chirped with far too much pride.

  Jamie nodded and took the wine from Mads. “Of course, you do.” He quickly swallowed down a mouthful.

  “It is in France,” he grinned. “In a villa. Lovely property. It has a vineyard attached. I will fertilize the grapes with his remains, and the resulting wine will taste like victory. And revenge. I am thinking a merlot.”

  “You should stop probably stop talking,” Jamie said. “You know, for legal reasons.”

  “Probably,” Mads mused. He pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes like the room was spinning. “But I doubt either of you would stand in witness against me.”

  “Well, how about because you’re creeping me out?” Jamie said.

  “I doubt that. After Operation Seashell and all.”

  Jamie’s spine suddenly felt like a bar of iron. “How do you know about that?”

  “Ways.”

  “Mads, that was a top-secret operation.”

  Willow looked between them. “Operation Seashell?” she chuckled.

  Jamie snapped his fingers before pointing at her. “Stop. This is national security. You could disappear for knowing this kind of stuff.”

  “You know it,” Mads spat petulantly.

  “I was there!” Jamie huffed a breath to steady himself. “I’m not allowed to even admit that. We’re moving on. Now.”

  “What will I be if I give up my rage?” Mads asked the ceiling. “What will become of me?”

  Jamie patted Mads’ foot, making each tap strong enough that he would feel it even in his drunken stupor. Mads didn’t try to make any kind of verbal response, letting the room
lapse into silence.

  There was no answer he could give Mads. When you lived for the fight, the idea of leaving it behind came with a crippling fear, and Mads would have to find his way through it on his own. That, Jamie knew from personal experience.

  Chapter Two

  Gwen Dahl racked her brain as she thundered through her front door. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually enjoyed a day at work. But unfortunately, there wasn’t anything else going at the moment. She had looked. A lot.

  She shook the snow off her parka and kicked off the ridiculously high pumps that were inexplicably part of her uniform. As they clattered over the floor, it occurred to Gwen just how skilled she had gotten at walking in them. When she had started, she could barely take two steps without risking personal injury. Now she could traverse snow and ice patches without even wobbling. It was an odd thing to be proud of, but a skill was a skill. She just needed a better way to employ it.

  With an exhausted sigh, she pulled her hands through her short, blonde hair and padded her way across the cabin. The staff accommodation was small but cheap. And sometimes in life, that was far more important. The fridge light cut into the darkness as she pulled open the door and began to search through the contents.

  “Long night again, huh?”

  She didn’t bother to pause her search to answer her brother. Although they were twins, there was very little to even distinguish them as siblings. She was broad where he was slender, with wider shoulders and sturdier hips. Gawain’s hair was perfectly styled and a beautiful honey blond that his sister had always been a little jealous of. And, while Gawain wasn’t short, he couldn’t compete with Gwen’s seven feet of work-strengthened muscle.

  Their mother used to try and soothe her wounded pride by telling her that they were like peacocks: the males needed to be a bit more ‘visually interesting’ to attract mates. If Gawain was a peacock, she was an ox, built for hard labor.

  Gwen had stopped caring so much after she had aged out of the awkward teenage phase. She was who she was, and she worked her body well. Her height and strength had propelled her through the ranks at boot camp, secured her place in the army, and had allowed her to gain acceptance when, after taking up boxing, she was able to knock more than one cocky guy on his ass.