by Anne Conley
“Motherfucker,” Crash’s voice sounded from the doorway. Ah… So Chris had heard something. And Crash looked pissed.
“Andrew?” Misty’s sleepy voice rose from under the covers next to him.
Crash advanced on Chris, tense and ready to fight. Chris held his hands up in a gesture of defeat, unwilling to fight his buddy.
“Hey, man. It’s not—” Chris started to explain, but Misty’s brother was having none of it.
Crash grabbed his hand and yanked him bodily from the bed, and Chris allowed it. He’d taken Chris in hand-to-hand combat training a couple of times. But he wasn’t willing to fight in front of Misty. Not right now.
“I told you! You were the one guy I trusted to not fuck my sister, and what happens? You’re fucking her!” He raised his fists to hit Chris, and he understood. He totally got it. Crash had trusted him, and he’d broken that trust. The bro code. He’d fucked up.
But he couldn’t see any way around it. He had to go against the loyalty to his best friend to be with the woman he loved.
“Dude, hang on a second—” Before he could finish his sentence, Crash’s fist smacked his jaw and pain radiated throughout his head, rattling his brain around. His neck snapped back, and the pain floated toward his shoulders, but Chris ignored it, looking his friend square in the eye.
Crash’s dark eyes were full of betrayal—a betrayal which bled over into murder. Chris was confident his best friend was about to kill him.
Misty was holding the sheet up to cover herself, sitting up in the bed on her knees. “Andrew, stop it.” Her voice was calm, and a ripple of admiration went through Chris.
“Dude, chill,” Chris tried to placate. If he could calm Crash down, he could explain how things had played. But Crash wasn’t seeing any of it.
“Do you have any idea? What? Are you planning on just fucking my sister and leaving in the night, like the asshole you are with women? Do you not understand what she’s been through? She doesn’t need that shit in her life. I trusted you,” Crash seethed as he bounced from foot to foot, ready to strike again. His eyes darted around wildly, finally landing on Chris’s nudity. “For fuck’s sake.”
“I love her.” Telling her brother first wasn’t the way Chris wanted it to happen. He’d imagined a candlelit dinner and an explanation he hadn’t uttered those words to any woman besides his mama. But Chris was about to screw things up royally between them, and he needed his friend in his life.
“I’m going to pretend this never happened. You make me fucking sick.” Crash’s fists dropped, and his shoulders went limp. He looked defeated. “Get some fucking clothes on. I’ve got a job and I need you away from her for today so I can think about this without worrying you’re fucking up her life.”
That hurt, but Chris nodded. He looked over at Misty, who was staring at him, eyes wide and unblinking. What if she didn’t feel the same way about him? Had this just been a fuck for her? He didn’t think so, but she’d never said as much. He didn’t expect her to love him the way he loved her, because she hadn’t been staring at his picture for years. But he’d hoped she at least cared for him.
God, she was beautiful with her hair all mussed from the long night of love-making and her mouth swollen from his kisses.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Chris leaned over and tangled his hands in Misty’s hair, pulling her toward him. “After I calm him down, we’ll talk. I mean it.” Kissing her possessively, he wanted to leave no doubt he’d meant what he said. He loved her. She was his. Now he just had to make her brother—his best friend—understand that.
***
After she heard the guys leave, Misty got up and got ready to go in and open the coffee shop. It was still a little early, but there was no hope of her getting any more sleep. She’d never seen Andrew so angry before. And Chris’s words were still banging around in her head. I love her. Stated so simply. She had no idea if he really meant it or if he was just trying to keep Andrew from beating on him more, but she liked hearing it.
Because she loved him, too. If she’d had any doubts before last night, they were now eradicated. The way he’d physically shown her so many acts of love and kindness in the last twenty-four hours had only opened the door to her feelings for Chris Malone.
She’d fallen face-first off the cliff and was mired in the love bog. She could only hope he’d meant what he said and wasn’t just trying to keep Andrew from killing him.
As Misty showered and dressed, she hummed absently, unable to stop herself. She danced around her house, getting ready, and then laughed at herself because she was acting so silly. But she didn’t care. Misty floated on a cloud to work, nothing seeping into the happy feelings she felt. Not even her brother.
Andrew would get over himself.
At her shop, Misty was surprised to see a crowd of people from all walks of life milling around. Due to the neighborhood, there were typically pan-handlers trying to get some spare change from the professionals who went in and out of the capitol building, as well as the tourists trying to get a great picture. But the people here were all races and income levels. She remembered the rumor about the emergency legislative session at the Chamber mixer last night and smiled to herself. She loved being in the middle of stuff. There was no doubt she would be busy today.
Misty sent a text out to her employees, asking if she could get all hands on deck today, then went into the kitchen to start the baked goodies before opening.
When a scraping at the loading bay had her seeking out the source of the noise, Misty was surprised to see Ghost standing in her kitchen. He wore all-black fatigues with all sorts of paraphernalia strapped to him, including guns. Her eyes widened. She knew it. He must be the Delta guys she’d heard about last night. Suddenly, his warning about the chatter on her Wi-Fi flooded back to her. She’d been so distracted with Chris and sex, she hadn’t given Ghost a second thought. Judging by the seriousness of his attire, she’d made a mistake there.
“Um, couldn’t wait until we opened for your coffee?” She laughed through her unease. This wasn’t like Ghost to scare the crap out of her. “I thought you were on a different assignment?”
His grim face didn’t do much to allay her fears. “I’m here now. Is there any way I can convince you not to open today? I’ve been working a case, and your coffee shop is smack dab in the middle of it,” he pleaded with her, which was a rare thing for the usually no-nonsense man.
She thought on it, but honestly, she couldn’t imagine anyone targeting her little shop for anything nefarious. Even with Misty’s background, she chose to believe the best from people. In her wildest imaginings, she just couldn’t come up with a picture of some suicide bomber walking into her store with dynamite strapped to his chest.
She couldn’t shut down on what was promising to be the busiest day she’d had so far. Thoughts of all those lost donations filtered through her head.
But Ghost seemed adamant.
“I’ll keep an eye out. If things look rough outside, I’ll close up shop. Okay?” She was trying for some sort of compromise, but Ghost’s face didn’t buy it.
He pressed on his throat and murmured something before turning and leaving the way he came.
Well, that was weird.
Chapter thirteen
“So, what’s up with the new job?” Chris was anxious to get his buddy thinking about something different. The cold shoulder on the way downtown was ridiculous. Crash drug Chris along, the least he could do was explain himself.
“It’s at Pierce Securities, with Jordan. He’s a cool guy. They’re all cool.” The square around the capitol building was full of protesters and law enforcement. Everyone was edgy. The protesters were looking to make the news and the police looked terrified of making the news. Media was everywhere, capturing it all on film.
“I filled out the paperwork a couple of months ago, and when I got fired from the surveying job, I called Jordan. City of Austin sub-contracted every security firm in the city to help out with thi
s. It has potential to turn into a cluster-fuck.”
A shiver of unease coursed through Chris. “Then why am I here?”
“I’m keeping you away from my sister,” Crash growled at him, clenching his fists.
Holding his hands up in front of him to ward off more blows, Chris countered, “But if the city implodes, who’s going to be with her?” If she was in danger, he needed to be at the shop.
“Not you, fucktard,” was his friend’s only reply.
“I meant what I said. I love her, man.”
A huge guy with dark hair and eyes and more muscles than most men walked up to Crash. “Hey,” he acknowledged, eyeballing Chris. He looked familiar, but Chris couldn’t put his finger on it. He was still wrapped up in the possibility that Misty was in danger. And all the people milling around were making him more nervous.
“Hey, Quinten. This is Nova. Chris Malone. AKA Dickface,” Crash sneered the words, and Chris rolled his eyes.
Chris held out his hand for a shake, and the man’s grip nearly brought him to his knees. “Nice to meet you. Are you with the security team?”
Not much intimidated Chris, and this muscle head didn’t, either. Until he spoke.
“I’m the firm lawyer.”
“Wait. Are you the Haymaker?” It was like a clicking noise went off in his head. He’d seen the guy fight once a couple months back. Dude was fierce. And a lawyer? He never would have put those two together.
One nod, and his eyes narrowed on Chris, as if sizing him up.
Looking back at Crash, Quinten, AKA the Haymaker said, “You need to get mic’d up. We have to be in constant communication. Anything you see goes to the police. We’ve got strict instructions on this one. We can’t get too involved. We’re security only.” Holding out his hand to Crash with a tiny electronic device inside, he said, “Put this on. Things are about to get weird.”
***
Misty watched the line grow as her shop filled with people. Mia had texted that Jordan wasn’t letting her leave the house today, but some other employees had shown. So she had plenty of help, but things were getting crazy. At least people were buying coffee. She’d sold out of muffins and one of her girls was in the back, making more, as people were sitting in front of the window, watching the events unfold outside.
Protesters were lining the sidewalks with homemade signs, trying desperately to appear unaffected. Some of the protesters egged them on, but most just silently held their signs while law enforcement stalked around in front of them, hands itchy at their weapons.
Every once in a while, someone would yell out something which made the police jump a little, but nothing ever happened. Camera crews were around, trying to set up with reporters primping to get on camera. Men and women in suits tried to get through the line of people, and most went through unmolested, but more vocal protesters were there to yell in their faces.
It was tense to say the least.
Misty was watching for the oddness Ghost had warned her about, but so far, it just seemed like a relatively peaceful protest of the governor’s plans to keep refugees out of Texas. There was a group of Muslims protesting racial profiling, which Misty could see their side. But on the other hand, she could understand why the refugees weren’t being let in, especially with recent events in other parts of the country. The entire state of affairs had her torn. She wished there was a peaceful way to remedy the situation.
When Saul came in with another man, Misty was so glad to see the familiar face she didn’t immediately recognize the threat. When his friend turned and stuck a gadget in the closed door, she still didn’t see it. It wasn’t until Saul raised a gun in the air that she gasped. It looked like an automatic rifle, but it was small. She didn’t know much about guns, outside of the movies, but she didn’t let the size of this one fool her. Saul had brought a deadly weapon into her store. He fired one bullet, which had everyone in the shop ducking for cover and screaming.
“Everyone in the back, or I’ll blow the door!” His normally sedate expression was unfamiliar to her, wild and angry. It was like he was suddenly a different man, and a tremor of recognizable fear raced through her. She wished this feeling wasn’t so memorable to her, and she pushed down the memories of Michael’s house and bed that suddenly surfaced in her mind. She needed to save her customers.
Because Saul was holding up her coffee shop.
While everyone else raced for the back, trampling each other, the silent man stood by the front door. He wrote on a piece of paper and showed it to her before sticking it to the door so everyone who walked up could see it.
Door is rigged to explode when opened.
That’s what he’d stuck to it. An explosive device. Motherfucker was going to blow up her shop. Her shop.
Misty was pissed. Grateful the fear subsided, Misty embraced the anger.
While everyone else ran to the kitchen area, hands thrown over their heads, Misty stood at the register, fuming.
“Saul, what the fuck are you doing?”
The silent man walked back to the kitchen, raising his own gun in the air, shouting words in a different language into a walkie talkie. Saul faced Misty.
“You need to get in the kitchen, too, Misty.” Saul’s voice was back to the quiet she was used to, although his face was still angry.
“Why?”
He gave her a small smile, one she’d seen before, but only now realized the secrets it hid. “Just go.” He raised his gun level with her heart, and Misty was helpless to refuse him. Heart pounding, she raised her arms in a gesture of defeat while her mind raced.
In the kitchen, one of her employees—a girl not much younger than Misty—was doing her best to calm everyone. For the most part, they all followed Misty’s movements with wide, pleading eyes. Most of the customers were young; there was one family with a young boy, probably about eight years old. His wide blue eyes would haunt Misty’s dreams for a long time.
She had to put a stop to this. That little boy’s eyes were the stuff of all new and improved nightmares. Dirty clothes in a garage were nothing compared to what she would dream of if something happened to that child. Misty had to come up with a plan.
Chapter fourteen
On the other side of the square from Misty’s coffee shop, Chris was crawling out of his skin. The protesters seemed peaceful enough, but it was the idiots who were just showing up to start shit that had him nervous. There was a group of people, totally unorganized, who were shouting things at the law enforcement officers about being pigs and baby killers, and then shouting at the congress people trying to go to work that they were evil. They were the pot-stirrers, and they were the ones causing trouble here.
Meanwhile, he was sure the same thing was going on over in Misty’s neck of the woods, and he was stuck here with his buddy who wasn’t speaking to him.
“What the fuck am I doing here, man? At least let me go check on Misty and make sure she’s safe. That’s what you wanted me to do.”
Crash’s eyes hardened as soon as Chris opened his mouth.
“You know what? Fuck you, Andrew. I don’t like this. I’ve told you my intentions toward your sister are good, but you’re the one being a dick face. I’m going to go check on her. You can fuck the hell off.”
With that, Chris set off at a jog around all the people. He was only about a half a block away when he saw a man in black fatigues melt out of the shadows. He grabbed a man in a choke hold and dragged him back between the buildings, melting away.
Ghost.
Fuck. His jog turned to a sprint. He’d known Ghost was military, and his words yesterday came back with a vengeance. Don’t leave her alone here.
And he’d left her alone. Dude had to be some sort of Special Forces. Maybe even Delta. At Fort Hood, he’d heard about the Deltas but had never seen one that he knew of. They were legends. Myths.
Ghosts.
Knocking people out of his way, Chris could only hope he reached her in time. The crowd was working itself into a frenzy an
d his nerves were shot. He could only hope to find Misty safe, convince her to close up shop until all this shit was over, and get her home safe.
Then the explosions started. One deafening boom after another, knocking Chris off course.
He was back in Syria, bombs going off, gray dust everywhere as he searched for survivors. He couldn’t let that happen here. This was Texas, for Christ’s sake. He was finished with his time in the military. He remembered finding an entire family, huddled together for safety under a bunch of rubble, dead. Chris saw, in his mind’s eye, the random, detached limbs on the roadside, amid rubble from the buildings.
He couldn’t tell what was real and what were memories from another time. All he knew was he needed to get to Misty.
His steps only faltered briefly. Chris was a man on a mission. People around him were going crazy. The protesters were screaming and running. A cop was firing wildly into the crowd, getting tackled to the ground by bystanders. People were yelling and crying as smoke poured into the air.
Chris squelched the panic in his gut.
He had to get to his girl.
***
Everyone in the kitchen screamed when the explosions started. So far, the front door to her shop hadn’t blown up, but Misty was afraid it was just a matter of time. She was dancing with the devil right now as she looked at Saul and his soft smile. He seemed to be enjoying this, and it made her a little sick.
Panic welled in her gut as the scent of the explosives drifted in through her air conditioning system. The fear came back, but it was a different sort of fear. She wasn’t afraid for herself, which was what her fear months ago had been all about. Now, she was afraid for her customers—the people who had only come in for a cup of coffee and some people-watching entertainment. Guilt filled her at her earlier thoughts of the increased business from the protests. It was the fullest her coffee shop had ever been, and now they were all going to die at the hands of a madman.
Misty had to do something. She could hear the little boy sniffling near her, but she couldn’t stand to look at his cherubic face. Sirens wailed in the distance, and she heard the muffled pop-popping of gunfire nearby in neighboring businesses coupled with the sound of screaming. She wondered how many other people had been taken hostage. Or killed.
