by Barb Han
Guarding Lauren
Brotherhood Protectors World
Barb Han
Contents
Brotherhood Protectors
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Also by Barb Han
About Barb Han
Brotherhood Protectors
About Elle James
Copyright © 2020, Barb Han
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
© 2020 Twisted Page Press, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.
Brotherhood Protectors
Original Series by Elle James
Brotherhood Protectors Series
Montana SEAL (#1)
Bride Protector SEAL (#2)
Montana D-Force (#3)
Cowboy D-Force (#4)
Montana Ranger (#5)
Montana Dog Soldier (#6)
Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)
Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)
Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)
Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)
Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)
Montana SEAL’s Mail-Order Bride (#12)
SEAL Justice (#13)
Ranger Creed (#14)
Delta Force Strong (#15)
Montana Rescue (Sleeper SEAL)
Hot SEAL Salty Dog (SEALs in Paradise)
Hot SEAL Hawaiian Nights (SEALs in Paradise)
To Elle James for letting me write in your world and introducing me to your awesome readers—a huge thank you. You already know how much I love you.
Chapter 1
The Texas sun beat down on the white canopy over a fresh grave, creating a greenhouse effect and intensifying triple-digit temperatures.
Jaden Dean loosened his tie.
At five o’clock the heat had peaked. A half hour into the inferno, his shirt threatened to melt into his skin. But his mind was far from the August heat in San Antonio. His focus was Helena Turner.
Long after the few attendees had gone home, she sat there, broken. A stark contrast to the deadly field operative she was. Jaden couldn’t walk away, so he moved to the chair next to her. “There anyone I can call?”
She didn’t look at him. Only shook her head before staring at a spot across the manicured lawn.
Jaden sighed sharply. “Talk to someone. A priest?”
She didn’t respond.
“Then take some time off. Hell, take as much time as you need. I’ll work it out with Gunner. Your job will be waiting for you. ManTech can survive without you.” As her supervisor Jaden could make that call. He’d clear it with Gunner Randol, the owner of the agency, at their next rally point.
She glanced at Jaden.
Damn, it was hard to look her in the eyes, see the pain there. Pain that was his fault because he’d essentially sent Tim to his death.
“Work is all I have,” she admitted.
Right. She’d been orphaned as a child. A wrench tightened inside Jaden’s gut at remembering the details of her abusive past. There was no family to surround her. Tim had been everything to her. He was her love. Her redemption. Her life. And now he was dead.
Shame washed over Jaden for allowing Tim to take the assignment that was supposed to be Jaden’s. Jaden was the supervising officer. He had more experience. It should’ve been him in that jungle, not Tim.
Helena’s chin shot up. “Whoever is responsible will pay for this.”
The hollow look in her eyes was a knife to his chest.
Jaden knew all about losing someone close. The darkness and anger that settled in the soul. The hopelessness.
His operatives were all the family he had. One-by-one they were being killed. He was beginning to think he was cursed.
Lauren James had learned the hard way that sometimes the best childhood was a brief one, there was a direct link between determination and success, and it only took one phone call to unleash hurt and memories she’d spent the past decade trying to suppress.
“Help me,” a man’s voice choked out. It was strained and cracked. His identity was unmistakable.
“Max—” A crack followed by a pained grunt dropped her stomach to the floor, scrambling her nerves.
“Max. Max? Are you there? Are you hurt? Who’s doing this to you?” The words fired off like buckshot. Her brother had called four times in the past three months. She’d ignored all of them because when he’d called four years ago he wanted to use her for money.
Lauren had emptied her savings in order to give him the help he said he desperately needed. She’d followed his instructions. Once the money transfer had been made, Max had promised a stint in rehab before going to work in her small florist business where she specialized in native plants and wildflower arrangements.
It was supposed to be a fresh start for Max. But he’d disappeared as quickly as her savings. She’d sworn never to be taken advantage of again.
More muffled noises, and then a tortured scream seared her eardrums. This call was different than the others.
“Max?” she asked but no response came.
Three days passed before she got another call from an unidentified number.
“Pay or we cut him into pieces.” The male voice was unfamiliar but had a distinct Latin accent.
Icy regret stabbed her chest. Why hadn’t she tracked her brother down after the last call? Made sure he was safe?
“No. Don’t hurt him. Tell me what to do,” she said, trying to keep panic out of her voice. Think. Think. Her cell was in her purse in the kitchen. Could she get to it?
“You bring the feds, young lady, we cut him up and mail you the pieces.”
No federal officers. Of course they would have anticipated that.
Scuffling noises came through the line before another loud crack sounded.
“Then we come looking for you.”
“No. No law enforcement. I’ll be there,” she promised.
Max screamed in agony, then shouted, “Don’t do it, sis. Don’t listen to them. Go far away and don’t come back. They’ll kill you too. I’m already dead.”
Even though she’d promised herself that she would never be pulled into Max’s world again, she couldn’t turn her back on him. Not like this.
“Please. Stop. Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.
I’ll go wherever you say. Just tell me what to do.”
“You better pay, perra. If you don’t want to glue his body parts back together. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Another crack sounded, followed by more moaning.
“Please. Stop. I’ll. Do. Anything.” She had to find a way. A throb ricocheted between her temples.
“Antigua Bay Resort. In two days. On the beach at noon.”
Click.
“Oh. God. No.”
Lauren didn’t hang up. Not even when the dial tone sounded.
Think. Think. She had a little money in savings. Her business was doing well. Maybe she could secure a loan for the rest? But how? There was no time. Where on earth would she get that kind of cash on short notice?
Knees weak, she sank to the kitchen floor. Her body quaked. A slow ripple that arose deep in her belly moved through her chest, her arms, her fingers.
Tremors vibrated down her legs.
She didn’t move. Or cry. The fight drained from her.
But she shook so hard it felt as though her bones might fracture, splinter through her skin, and explode into a thousand tiny flecks of dust.
Chapter 2
An untraceable call. A hundred-fifty thousand dollar loan. An express ticket to a known money launderer’s favorite drop spot. An innocent woman caught in the middle. And the dog really ate your homework, didn’t it, sweetheart?
Jaden Dean raked his fingers through jet-black hair, ignoring the icy chill running down his spine as he memorized the details of Lauren James’s file while on the flight.
Two weeks had passed since he’d taken the assignment to keep an eye on her. It was supposed to be a simple, local babysitting job while he recovered from his injuries after being shot on his last mission. The Blackwater-type agency he worked for was headquartered in D.C. but Jaden was a Dallas man. He’d be stupid to ignore the similarities between missions.
Jaden had recently been burned by a so-called innocent woman trapped in a sting by a family member. Experience had taught him there was no such thing as straightforward when it came to family ties and criminals. Besides, it had taken some skill to get that amount of money on a flight undetected.
Nothing had been transparent since Tim Johnson’s death a little more than a month ago. Tim should be alive. Then a week later, Agent Smith had taken a bullet while on assignment with Jaden, who by all counts should also be dead. Smith was buried six-feet under and Jaden had a permanent reminder of the failed mission in the form of a bullet hole in his shoulder.
They’d been working a mission to gain crucial evidence on the Menendez family so the American government could issue warrants and stop the flood of money and illegal weapons flooding the streets and landing in the hands of a couple powerful gangs in Portland. It was getting more dangerous in the jungle and harder to know who to trust. Jaden should know. Camila Menendez had played him for a fool.
Jaden ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. What the hell was happening? He’d spent the past month trying to figure out exactly when and where he’d gone wrong.
And now everyone had to keep an eye on Helena. She’d been blinded by her grief and was becoming a liability. She was a distraction ManTech couldn’t afford.
He picked up Lauren James’s picture from the file of intel and studied it intently. Jogging shorts and a tightly-fitted tank revealed flawless ivory skin. Her curly mane of red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her bare neck.
Her body? One look at her perfect, long runner’s legs said she’d picked the right sport. Her lean, taut body was built for the track. To say she was attractive was a lot like saying a motorcycle had two wheels.
She looked exactly like the kind of woman Jaden would want to get to know better. Except his attraction was out of place under the circumstances.
He stood and stretched long, muscular legs. The memory of his recent encounter with Smith’s wife still a little too fresh. Normally, he’d push the memory down deep and create some distance from it. The anguish, the crying, the whole scene had nearly done Jaden in. He did emotion about as well as he did family. His job left room for neither. Smith had mistakenly thought he could have it both ways. He’d left behind a heartbroken wife and two kids in diapers.
The pilot turned on the Fasten Seatbelt sign and made an announcement that they were starting their descent. Jaden’s shoulders tensed and his chest squeezed. He tried not to think about the fact that he was flying to the Caribbean during hurricane season. He tucked the picture of Lauren James in the file and closed the folder during landing.
The plane bustled with activity as soon as clearance came for passengers to move around the cabin.
Jaden reached for his bag in the overhead bin. Pain tore through his shoulder centering on the point of the bullet’s entry. He cursed as he tightened this grip on the handle, pulled the bag down, and deplaned.
Bryce, his spotter, was already on the ground waiting at the rendezvous site. Immediate radio contact informed Jaden that his asset had taken Burma Road until she reached Dickenson Bay on the northwest corner of the island.
Jaden also learned that Lauren had spent fourteen minutes inside the hotel before setting foot on the sand, which he figured was about how long it would take him to reach the beach and locate Bryce.
He was spot on.
“Love the hat. Nice get-up,” Jaden said to Bryce. He wore a straw hat and one of those obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirts with the requisite beer gut to match. Being loud was sometimes the best way to blend in. It was working, because not one person on the teaming beach gave him a second glance.
“Damn.” Bryce clutched his chest. “Why’re you always sneakin’ up on me like that?”
Jaden quirked a smile. “I didn’t.”
Instinct had him surveying the area before getting too comfortable. The hotel was shaped in a horseshoe, wrapping around a private piece of white sand beach the size of a football field. He glimpsed metal twinkling in the sunlight from the top window of the building to his left. Another on the right. There were two shooters in the building and three on the ground.
Wasn’t exactly afternoon tea with the Queen, but he didn’t figure he’d break much of a sweat if anything went down.
Jaden was used to working alone in worse situations. His odds doubled having Bryce as backup.
And yet, a little voice in the back of his head fired off a warning.
“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Bryce glanced down at the parrots covering the cotton button down. “What do you have against birds?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t want to see every species crammed on one sleeve.” Jaden was more of a White V-neck Hanes t-shirt and faded blue jeans guy. His compromise on this trip? Flip-flops.
“I’m like the woodwork. Besides, this one here,” Bryce said, pointing in the center of his chest, “is an African gray parrot. Pretty, ain’t she?”
“She’s friggen Miss America. Too bad there’s no sunshine to go with a shirt like that,” Jaden said with a wry smile. What was it about sunny places that made grown men want to wear shirts they wouldn’t be caught dead using to wash their cars with back home?
Bryce glanced up at the skies. “Hurricane’s moving in. Supposed to be a bad one. Wouldn’t want to have to stick around here longer than I had to.”
“Maybe we’ll be outta here by lunch. We figure out what she’s doing in the mix and why she’s giving money to a cartel, and maybe we find Camilla.” Jaden was ready to slap handcuffs on her. Death would be the easy way out.
“I hope. I’m hungry,” Bryce said, patting his stomach and planting himself on a beach towel.
The small folder with intel about Lauren James’s life pointed toward her innocence. Floral shop owner that specialized in native plants and wildflowers. Successful entrepreneur. Tough childhood, yes, but she’d distanced herself and made good. On the surface, she was someone Jaden could even respect.
Was she a simple small business owner who just happe
ned to be related to an international money launderer? Was she the unfortunate recipient of bad shared genes?
“So it’s two against five?” Jaden said, not minding those odds.
“Looks so. For now. More’s on the way. I can’t hang around for long.” Bryce looked glum as he checked his watch. “Our guys should’ve been here already.”
“What? You got a problem with the numbers?”
“Like it better when they’re flipped,” Bryce said truthfully. “Think this situation’s about to blow?”
Jaden rolled his shoulders. “Hard to say.” He paused, thinking how it would be nice to have at least one friend to watch a game with sometime. “You know, when this is over, we should grab a beer.”
“Sure thing.”
Jaden leaned forward until he located the asset. Not like he could miss that shock of long red hair against white sand anyway. In the sun, her hair shimmered like crystals.
She sat on the edge of a bright blue lounge chair in the middle of a hundred yards of oceanfront property. There was beach out in front of her, hotel around her, and a row of palm trees on either side. Her small overnight bag was tucked under the lounger. It was most likely stuffed with cash.
She was beautiful. He didn’t need to be any closer than five feet from her to tell that. Her pale green tank pressed against full breasts, a white cotton skirt fell to her calves. Her fiery hair framed an almond-shaped face and brown eyes with gold flecks in them. Her lips were full, pink and kissable…he stopped himself right there. Her lips were none of his damn business. He dismissed the thought as a side effect of going too long without female companionship. Another job casualty.
