GRAY WOLF SECURITY, Texas: The Complete 6-Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  He laid his hand on my knee. “I’m sure it has been. He knew you last night.”

  I nodded, tears coming to my eyes at the memory. Last night he’d looked at me and said my name. That was the first time he’d done that since the accident.

  Elliott leaned over and kissed the side of my mouth. “You did the best you could, Brooks. Now it’s up to the docs.”

  I slid my hand over his throat, pulling him close to me. We kissed again, the kind of kiss I thought only existed in romance novels. There was so much he was teaching me about the real world and my own body. I was tempted to crawl into his lap and enjoy a few of the things he’d taught me last night, but he pulled away before I could.

  “We should go inside.”

  I nodded regretfully, taking a second to pat the few loose strands of my hair back against the braid that held the bulk of my strands. Then he was there, yanking open the door, his hand slipping into mine. We walked inside, hand-in-hand, a blush burning my cheeks as a few people turned and smiled at us. We signed in at the front desk, then headed down to the elevator, less harried than we’d been the night before. I was almost sad when the elevator doors slid open on the third floor, the tug of Elliott’s hand leading the way down the long corridor to Dr. Forman’s office.

  Jimmy was sitting calmly in a chair in front of the doctor’s desk, his hands caught under his thighs.

  “Jimmy?”

  He looked up, his eyes—blue like mine—flashing with emotion as he launched himself off his chair and came to me, pausing just before he enveloped me in a bear hug.

  “Books! Books!”

  I laughed. “It’s me, Jimmy. I’m here.”

  He swung me back and forth, making this sound that was almost like a laugh. I sighed, overjoyed. He knew me. He remembered us. That was…it was more than I could express.

  “Jimmy? You need to let your sister come into the room and sit down,” Dr. Forman said in an authoritative voice. “Please let her go.”

  Jimmy stepped back, his eyes moving over me slowly, as he lifted his hands to his face, pressing them to his cheeks. But then his eyes shifted to Elliott, and he suddenly moved between the two of us, grunting.

  “It’s okay. He’s my friend.”

  Jimmy glanced back at me, clearly unsure if he should trust this man or not. He eyed Elliott, then me again. Elliott held up his hands to show Jimmy he had no weapons. And it was true. He’d left his gun at the house because he said he figured it would be more of a threat than a benefit in a place like this. And he was probably right. At the moment, I was relieved he’d made that choice.

  “Jimmy, please let them into the room.”

  He slowly backed up at the doctor’s new command. I smiled as I moved past him, reaching back to take Elliott’s hand. Jimmy watched closely, clearly placed at ease by the sight of our friendly touch. He pranced over to the chair he’d vacated, settling down again. I sat beside him, pulling my chair a little closer to his so that we could touch. Elliott remained on his feet, leaning against the wall close to the only entrance and exit to the room.

  Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

  “I’m glad you could come, Mrs. Alvarez,” Dr. Forman said, interlacing her fingers in front of her as she leaned into her desk. Her eyes moved slowly over me, taking in everything from my simple pink blouse to the leather boots pulled up over the cuffs of my black linen trousers. I had this odd impression that she disapproved of me, but I couldn’t imagine why. “As you can see, Jimmy has made some clear progress these last few days.”

  “All of this has just happened?”

  “In the last twenty-four hours to be exact.” She studied me a moment longer. “I understand you ran into a group of patients at the drugstore yesterday? Including Jimmy?”

  “I did.”

  “Quite by accident, I’m sure.”

  I nodded. “It was, actually. Elliott and I just happened to wander into that drugstore after lunch, didn’t we?”

  “We did,” Elliott quickly agreed.

  Dr. Forman studied my face. “I was under the impression that you’d been out of the country, which was why you hadn’t come by to visit your brother in months.”

  Obviously that was what Juan had told them. Jimmy touched my knee, his hand cold and shaking. I laid my hand over his and was rewarded with a little squeeze.

  “I’m back now, and I’d like to be kept apprised of everything going on in Jimmy’s care.”

  Dr. Forman’s eyes narrowed slightly, that sense that she didn’t approve of me sliding over me like a blanket on a cold night. But then she sat back and opened Jimmy’s file.

  Most of the words were Latin and so above my paygrade that I didn’t know what they meant, but I got the basic meaning. Jimmy’s brain was permanently damaged from the accident, but it appeared that his brain was beginning to make new connections, in part because of the therapy they’d been giving him. But the new developments, his suddenly reentry into the world of reality, had only happened because he saw me in the drugstore.

  I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to hear that. To know that I was still that important to my little brother, that my presence could still mean that much to him. To know that he was coming back to me in huge leaps and bounds now.

  The last time I saw him, he was barely beginning to walk. His expression was constantly devoid of all emotion. He opened his eyes and he responded to basic commands, but he never attempted to communicate or otherwise respond to the world around him. He was like the shell of the brother I once knew. But now there was a familiar spark in his eyes that I recognized. My Jimmy was back.

  No one, not even Juan, was going to keep me from him now.

  “Our therapist would like to meet with you on Monday to discuss the therapy that she would like to do that would incorporate bringing you into the facility to work with him. The idea is that you would run him through the exercises that he’s already done with her and draw him out with the connection of your relationship.”

  I nodded, enthusiastic. “They told us about that at the hospital not long after he came out of his coma. They thought it would be really helpful to him.”

  “Our therapist is of the same mind.” Dr. Forman closed the file and studied me. “But you’d have to commit to this. You couldn’t disappear again.”

  “I understand. I won’t.”

  She studied us a moment longer, then she stood. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  She left the room and Elliott stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. I wanted to kiss him for being so considerate to understand that I needed a moment.

  “I knew you would come back to me, Jimmy,” I said, taking my brother’s hands between both of mine.

  “Books!” he said.

  I smiled. “So much has happened since your accident. Do you even know what happened to you?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, but then they were big and bright again. I touched the side of his face and he leaned into my hand, making a sound that was half grunt and half laugh.

  “I love you so much. I never should have let you ride in that stupid race, even if it was in Daddy’s name.”

  Jimmy and Daddy had been dirt bike racers from before I had memories. Daddy thought it was a man’s sport, the kind of thing that only a real man could do. And he put Jimmy on a bike when he was just a toddler. I could remember Momma getting mad at him, telling him he would be the death of her with his need for danger. But Daddy would kiss the back of her neck and whisper in her ear, and she would melt and allow him to do whatever he wanted. I didn’t understand it then. After last night…I was beginning to get it.

  All my childhood, the two of them were either in the garage tweaking their bikes, or at the track and coming home with bruises and scrapes. Daddy broke his elbow so badly once that he had to have three surgeries to correct it. Jimmy broke his leg in three places when he took a turn too fast and put his foot down to catch himself. But they were always back at it as soon as the casts came off.
r />   When Daddy died, it was in the garage while working on his bike. One second he’s prying a bolt off the exhaust, the next he was lying flat on the floor, gone before the paramedics could get there. It was months before Jimmy could even look at a bike again. So when he came to me and told me that there was a race taking place at their favorite track on the anniversary of Daddy’s death…even I couldn’t argue with the coincidence of it, of how it felt like Daddy trying to tell us something. So I agreed to let him race as long as he promised it was the last time.

  And it was. He lost his helmet on the second turn. He wiped out on the third turn.

  I patted his face lightly. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

  He shook his head, his eyes suddenly sad, but filled with confusion all at the same time. He wiped away the single tear that fell from my eyes and whispered, “Books,” as he pressed his forehead to mine.

  Books. He’d always called me that, and it never occurred to me to correct him.

  It was nice to hear it again.

  A nurse came a moment later, leading Jimmy out of the room. Elliott stood by the door and waited for me to pull myself together. Instead, I went to him and buried my face in his chest. I lost a few tears before the sense of security the feel of his arms around me gave me and helped me get a grip.

  “He’s okay,” he whispered against my ear.

  “He is. And that’s a miracle.”

  Elliott kissed the top of my head. After a minute, he turned me and led the way to the elevator. I could feel eyes on me, but there was no one around. I don’t know why I felt so scrutinized, just like I had no idea why I felt like the doctor disliked me. But as we got on the elevator, this heavy sense of dread fell over me. I suddenly didn’t want to leave.

  “Elliott,” I said, not sure what I was trying to say to him. But then the doors of the elevator slid open, and he was tugging at my hand, pulling me out into the lobby of the facility. And that’s when I saw him.

  Juan.

  His car—a Porsche Cayenne S Rolls Royce Edition—was parked in front of the glass doors. He was leaning against the back door, one of his expensive, double-breasted suits making him look like a businessman playboy, his ankles crossed above his Italian leather shoes, his sunglasses—those kind that reflect everything he sees—making you feel as though you’re constantly looking in a mirror.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  “Back door,” Elliott hissed.

  But I knew it was too late even before I turned and saw Juan’s men coming up behind us.

  “Senora Alvarez,” one of them said in heavily accented English. “Senor Alvarez would like to speak to you.”

  There was no choice.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to Elliott as one of the men—the one who hadn’t spoken—took my wrist and led the way out the doors.

  It was over. The dreaming and the fantasizing…reality had returned. And he looked angry.

  Chapter 11

  At the Compound

  Kipling watched the expression of disbelief rush over David’s face as he studied the documents on Knox’s computer. He took his time, reading each word on every page. Kipling just waited, knowing what a disappointment this must be. David had told him how he had hoped that the successful conclusion to this case would lead to more work with Alvarez’s many business ventures. It wasn’t as if Gray Wolf needed the work. There was plenty of work to go around already, especially since they were down one operative. But he also knew that getting work like this would bring some added prestige in this town, David’s hometown, and that would be a personal coup for him. Kipling almost felt sorry for him.

  David finally sat back and grunted.

  “Where did Knox get these files?”

  Kipling shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t say.”

  “These are clearly not just random files taken from the internet. Did she call in a favor with her CIA friends? Are we even supposed to have these?”

  Kipling simply shrugged.

  David snapped the laptop closed and got up, moving around his desk to pace the large, spacious office. “Does Elliott know what’s in these files?” He glanced at Kipling, but then he answered his own question. “Of course he does. He’s the one who asked her to get this information, right?”

  He began to pace again. “We need to get him out of there. The last thing we need is for one of our operatives to get involved with the mafia. Already went through that once with Ash.”

  “Is that right?”

  David shot him a look. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it one day.”

  “I have Knox calling him, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want to do, so I simply told her to tell him to be prepared.”

  “He should get out of there. He can tell Alvarez and his wife whatever he wants except for the truth. If these files are what I think they are, we probably shouldn’t have them, therefore no one should know we saw them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kipling headed for the door, but it opened before he was even close to it. Knox burst in, high color on her cheeks.

  “He won’t leave without the wife.”

  “What?” David demanded.

  “Elliott. I just talked to him. He says Alvarez came back early and he’s got the wife. He said he thinks she’s in trouble.”

  The frustration was almost palpable as it flowed in waves from David. Kipling started to step in, assuming David wouldn’t be prepared to deal with this situation. But then David spoke.

  “Call Elliott back. Tell him to stand down. I’m going to call that detective we worked with last month, Detective Sinclair, and ask him to go over to the house to check things out. Elliott’s not to do anything until he gets there. Make that clear to him.” David gestured to Kipling as he marched back to his desk. “Which of the safe houses are open? We need to have a place to send Elliott and the woman when we get them out of there.”

  “Ash’s property is open. And the house on Maple should be open, too.”

  “Get over to the Maple place, make sure it’s clear. I’ll let you know when they’re on their way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kipling watched David drop into his office chair and snatch up his phone, impressed with what he was seeing. David had been somewhat passive since Kipling had arrived. He never seemed confident in his decisions, never seemed thrilled to be in charge of these people. This was the first time he’d seen him in crisis mode. He had to say that David was stepping up much better than he expected him to.

  “Connect me to Detective Sinclair, please,” David barked into the phone as Kipling walked away.

  Kipling felt like a father who just saw his kid accomplish something they’d been working on for weeks. But then his elation soured a little when he realized that David didn’t really need him here anymore. And he’d soon figure that out.

  Then it would be back to sitting around his empty house, remembering all he’d lost and having nothing to pull him out of his own thoughts. Back to plotting the murder of the man who was sitting in prison for the deaths of his family. Back to...but not right now. Right now, they were in crisis mood and Kipling was feeling that adrenaline rush that always came just before the fight. And he was loving it.

  Chapter 12

  Elliott

  I felt like an ass, watching those guys come up and grab Brooks, dragging her off like a prisoner being sent to solitary. I tried to pretend as if everything was normal, that she was just a client and I was just her bodyguard. But it wasn’t like that anymore, was it? Alvarez watched us come toward him behind those mirrored glasses, his stance so casual that he simply exuded arrogance. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to hit him so badly that my hands clenched at my sides.

  “Surprise, mi amor,” he said to Brooks as she approached between those two thugs.

  “Juan,” she said softly. “I thought you weren’t due home for another few days.”

  “It’s obvious that’s what you thought. Or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”
/>   She stood in front of him, standing her ground even though he was bigger than she was. Everyone was taller than she was, but Alvarez had a good forty or fifty pounds on her. But she kept her chin up and her shoulders square, determined not to let him see the fear that must have been roiling just under the surface.

  I couldn’t have been prouder of her.

  “I wanted to see my brother. He’s had a breakthrough and the doctor said—”

  “I know what the doctor said,” Alvarez announced. “Why do you think I’m here? These people were instructed to call me if you showed up.”

  “Jimmy’s doing really well, Juan. He’s—”

  “Get in the car.”

  She didn’t respond. She just stood there in front of him, staring him down.

  “She should ride with me,” I said, moving up beside Alvarez’s henchmen. “You hired me to keep her safe. That’s the best way to do it.”

  Alvarez didn’t even look at me. “She’s my wife. She rides with me.”

  Alvarez stepped aside and, as if on some unspoken cue, the two henchmen pushed Brooks forward, shoving her toward the back door of the car. I started to reach for one man, but Brooks shot me a look, warning me to back off. I had never wanted to defy anyone as much as I wanted to defy that little look right then and there, but I didn’t. I stepped back and watched as they opened the door and shoved her inside.

  Alvarez came over to me, moving so close that I had to back up, losing sight of Brooks.

  “Follow us back to the house. I’ll want to talk to you after I deal with my wife.”

  He emphasized the word “wife” so hard that spittle flew from his lips. I glared at him, my hands curling into fists again. But I was a good boy, and I just forced a smile and nodded.

  “Of course.”

  He hesitated a moment, then inclined his head before following Brooks into the luxury car. They were gone before I had a chance to catch my breath. I took off, snatching the keys out of my pocket, my hand searching for the comfort of my holster before I remembered that I’d left my gun back at the house.