Defiance (The Protectors, Book 9)

by Sloane Kennedy

  “Shut up, old man,” Vincent returned. “No one’s buying your “aw, shucks” act.” Vincent glanced at me as he began searching out a bowl in the cabinet next to the stove. “Everett’s sharp as a tack, even for his advanced age. He pretends he’s all about making pottery and babying his prize-winning roses, but it’s complete shit. He could just as easily walk into the situation room at the White House and take control of whatever fucked-up shit’s going on there.”

  I shifted my eyes to Everett, who winked at me as he finished his beer.

  Before I could say anything, Vincent’s phone was beeping.

  “There’s your man,” Vincent said. “You tell him the rules?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Everett asked. Vincent shook his head which had Everett saying, “I told Grady to tell him.”

  Vincent turned the stove off, and then he walked over to a small monitor on the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. I followed him and saw him punch a button on a digital panel next to the monitor. I could see on the monitor that a dark sedan was sitting in the driveway. The first gate opened and the car immediately pulled in. The gate closed behind the car, but when the second gate didn’t move, the driver began honking his horn and then an arm came out to hit a button on the small metal post just before the gate.

  “Yes,” Vincent said, his voice holding none of the mirth it had a moment ago.

  “United States Secret Service,” the voice said sternly. “Open the gate.”

  “What’s his name?” Vincent asked Everett.

  “Nash?” the other man said.

  “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  “It’s either Nash or Bridges.”

  Vincent shook his head. “Where are you getting that from?”

  “I remember thinking I miss that show when he introduced himself,” Everett explained. He looked at me and said, “It was a good show, huh?”

  Since I’d never seen it, I merely nodded in agreement.

  “Ev, focus,” Vincent said.

  “Nash,” Everett murmured with a nod.

  “First name or last?”

  “Not a clue,” the older man said with a shrug.

  I smiled to myself as I watched the byplay between the two. Whatever they were to one another, it was something they’d likely spent years building.

  Vincent hit the button on the dial pad and said, “What’s your name, Agent?”

  “Special Agent Jonathan Nash,” came the response, and then the man was holding up ID. “Open the gate, sir.”

  The man’s tone left little doubt what he expected to happen, but seeing the way Vincent tensed up, I knew the fun had come to an end. “Agent Nash, I assume you’re armed.”

  “That’s none of your concern, Mr…”

  “If you were any kind of agent, you’d already know my name.”

  “Fine, whether or not I’m armed is none of your concern, Mr. St. James. I’m here to collect President Shaw and if you don’t open this gate immediately, I will be forced to break it down and you will be arrested for interfering with a federal officer.”

  Yep, the game was definitely over because Vincent straightened and then he was striding past the door.

  “Bad move, Nash Bridges,” Everett said to himself, and then he was rushing past me. I hurried after both men and caught up to them just in time to see Vincent pull a rifle from the trunk of his car in the garage. He slammed his hand against the garage door opener on the wall between the doors.

  “Vincent,” Everett called, but Vincent ignored him and strode out of the garage. “Fuck,” Everett muttered, and then he was striding after Vincent. By the time I caught up to them, Vincent had reached the gate.

  “Get out of the fucking car!” Vincent snarled and then he pulled the lever back on the rifle.

  “Put the weapon down!” the man in the car yelled. “Put it-”

  Vincent shot out the front driver’s side tire before the man could even finish talking.

  “Jesus, fuck, Vincent,” Everett yelled and then he was pushing between Vincent and the gate. I reached Vincent’s other side and grabbed his arm, not caring what he’d likely do to me, considering how he normally reacted anytime I touched him.

  “Don’t,” I said softly.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the man in the car who’d at least had the sense to put his hands up. But he also didn’t throw off my hand.

  “Get the fuck out of the car, Nash,” Everett snapped and then he went to the side of the gate. I finally noticed he had a watch just like mine and Vincent’s. He waved his wrist against a small metal panel on the gate post and it slid open. The car door slowly opened and the man got out. His arms were no longer raised, but he was careful about where he put his hands since Vincent hadn’t lowered his gun.

  The easygoing Everett I’d met just moments ago was gone, and in his place was the man I’d watched countless times on television as he’d talked to the American people. A man I’d hoped to be just like someday.

  “Did or did Grady not explain to you who this man is?” Everett pointed to Vincent who had yet to take the gun off the man. Everett seemed completely unconcerned that the weapon was essentially now pointed at him.

  “He did,” Agent Nash said, his voice steady and even as his eyes remained on Vincent.

  “And is it your habit to disrespect a man who is more of a brother to me than my own fucking flesh and blood?”

  “No, sir,” the man responded coolly.

  “Yet you come onto this man’s property, knowing what you know,” – Everett’s voice ticked up as he spoke – “knowing I’m safer with him than I am with ten of the likes of you, and you don’t show him or me the courtesy of respecting his wishes. Do I have that correct, Agent?”

  I was stunned when, instead of cowering, the man stepped forward, getting into Everett’s face. “With all due respect, I am not Grady, and contrary to what you and everyone else thinks, I’m here to do my job and that includes keeping you safe from any threat.” The man’s eyes shifted briefly to Vincent, but he seemed unfazed that the gun was still trained on him. “If you’d shown me even an ounce of the very respect you’re demanding, you would have allowed me to accompany you this evening instead of running off like an errant child, and I would have been given the opportunity to meet Mr. St. James under more appropriate circumstances. And only once I’d made sure you were safe in his care would I have respected his ridiculous rule about leaving all of my weapons in my trunk.”

  Agent Nash shifted his focus to Vincent. “If you care about him so much, you would let me do my damn job and keep him safe. Just because he’s with you doesn’t mean I’m off the clock,” the man bit out. “I don’t know what your deal about federal officials coming onto your property armed is, and frankly, I don’t care. I’m here to do my job and I’ll damn well do it, no matter how many of my fucking tires you blow out.”

  Vincent’s jaw ticked a few times and then he lowered the weapon. “You get five minutes with me while I explain the perimeter’s security, and you can wait out here until Everett is ready to leave. But you will not come armed into my house, and I will not be showing you the interior security.”

  Agent Nash held Vincent’s gaze a moment before nodding. Everett was noticeably quiet, and I couldn’t help but think that he seemed lost in thought as his eyes followed Agent Nash as he walked through the gate towards Vincent. I fully expected Vincent to comment on the fact that the man was still armed, since I could see a pistol sticking out from beneath his jacket in some kind of shoulder holster, but Vincent remained silent. I guessed Agent Nash to be a few years older than me. His hair was coal black and his skin had a slightly olive tone to it. Italian heritage maybe. He was almost as tall as Vincent and had a similar build, but whereas Vincent had a certain hardness about him, Agent Nash seemed stiffer. Like he was always on point.

  Everett stopped by my side as we watched the men begin walking along the fence line. I noticed that Vincent kept his finger near the trigger of the r
ifle and while he wasn’t holding it on Agent Nash, it wasn’t exactly in a non-threatening position either.

  “What happened to him?” I murmured before looking at Everett. I’d initially thought Vincent’s reaction had been about Agent Nash being a federal agent, but I’d quickly realized the real issue – the only issue – had been that the agent had been unwilling to put his weapons away.

  Everett patted my back and said, “Would you believe he’s actually come a long way?” There was no humor in Everett’s voice as he spoke, though, and I knew he too must have been rattled by the encounter. Though he didn’t seem overly surprised by it…at least not by Vincent’s reaction. Now Agent Nash’s reaction…

  As I followed Everett back into the house, I had to wonder if Agent Nash would still have a job come tomorrow…assuming he and Vincent even made it back to the house in one piece.

  Chapter 14

  Vincent

  “You sure do know how to throw a dinner party, Vincent St. James.”

  I looked up to see Nathan standing above me, two glasses of whiskey in hand. He handed one to me where I was sitting on the steps leading down the porch and into the backyard. Dusk was just starting to fall, so Mickey was chasing fireflies all around the grass while Minnie had taken up residence on a lounger by the patio door. We’d said our good nights to Everett twenty minutes earlier, but when I’d started helping Nathan clean up the kitchen, he’d waved me off with a comment about the cook not being on dish duty. I’d retreated to the patio to nurse the rest of my beer as I’d considered my behavior earlier in the evening.

  And the fact that Nathan had been privy to all of it.

  I knew my reaction had been over the top when Agent Nash had blatantly refused to follow my rule about not bringing any weapons into my house. I’d gotten used to Grady and Everett’s other long-time agents following the rule without question. But I begrudgingly had to admit, Agent Nash had had a good point. If the roles had been reversed and I’d been charged with protecting Everett, nothing and no one would have gotten between me and that duty. I hadn’t actually told the man that, but I’d allowed him more than the allotted five minutes when he’d asked in-depth questions about the security measures I’d taken to protect my property. Luckily, he hadn’t asked me why I’d gone to such lengths. Once we’d returned to the front of the house, I’d helped him change his tire, though I hadn’t invited him to join us for dinner. I still wasn’t sure enough about the guy to risk having him in my house. And he’d seemed just as content to remain outside.

  Everett had been quieter than usual after the encounter. If we’d been alone, I would have tried to figure out why. I’d thought maybe he was just thrown by how bluntly Agent Nash had spoken to him, but he’d seemed more and more distracted as the night wore on…restless, too. Yeah, he’d interacted with Nathan and they’d rambled on about all sorts of political happenings, but I’d tuned out that conversation and had just focused on my friend. There’d been no explanation for the sadness I’d seen lingering in his eyes. Yes, it was something he always carried with him, but he was usually better at hiding it, especially after all these years.

  “Yeah,” I murmured.

  “Take a walk with me.” His words caught me off guard and I looked up at him. “Come on, I need to walk off dinner. I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten this well.”

  “It’s not safe to leave the grounds after dark,” I automatically said.

  “We won’t,” Nathan responded. “You’ve got this gorgeous backyard, Vincent. Come show me around it.”

  I nodded and climbed to my feet. I’d left myself a couple of acres on the inside of the fence and had had it professionally landscaped to include a small creek that fed into a larger pond in one corner of the yard. So it didn’t surprise me when Nathan headed in that direction. I fell into step next to him and tried to ignore how damn good he smelled.

  “Vincent, I need you to stay calm,” Nathan said in a hushed voice.

  “What? Why?” I asked. I immediately began scanning the property for some kind of threat and automatically reached for the gun in my ankle holster.

  I was shocked when he put his hand on my arm. “Stay calm. The assailant is about twelve inches tall with buck teeth, but he’s got a pretty sizeable set of ears on him so he can probably hear us.”

  I followed Nathan’s gaze to the far side of the pond and then shoved at him hard. “Fucker,” I said as the small rabbit spotted us and took off.

  Nathan laughed and said, “Sorry, I had to. Didn’t want you to go all commando on Thumper’s ass.”

  “Asshole,” I said, even as I smiled. Never in a million years would I have guessed the man had a sense of humor. We fell silent as we made our way closer to the pond. But it didn’t last.

  “So are you going to tell me?” he asked.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…how it is that you know the president of the fucking United States.”

  “Little starstruck, were you?” I asked.

  “Yes, and don’t deflect.”

  “I met him about a couple years before his term ended. But I can’t tell you the how and the why.” When Nathan opened his mouth to object, I added, “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “Fine…then tell me why you need to live in Fort Knox,” he said.

  “Fort Knox might as well be made of toothpicks compared to this place,” I said.

  Nathan’s voice softened as he said, “And you don’t see anything wrong with that?” I glanced at him and couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked. At some point after Everett had arrived, Nathan had snuck up to his room to swap out his T-shirt for a white button-down shirt. He’d rolled up the sleeves to expose muscled forearms with just a smattering of blond hair on them.

  “I’m not some paranoid Y2K fanatic, Nathan. I live like this out of necessity, not because I want to.”

  “Is that what you’re doing, Vincent? Living?”

  We’d reached the pond, but Nathan was looking at me instead of the water. His eyes were far too perceptive and I found myself looking away so he wouldn’t see things he shouldn’t.

  “Just drop it,” I murmured.

  “Look, Vincent, I don’t pretend to understand, but-”

  “You’re right, you don’t understand,” I bit out. “And frankly, it’s none of your business.”

  “Vincent-”

  “Just shut the fuck up, Nathan!” I snapped. The pain in my belly had grown to epic proportions, and I quickly downed the rest of my drink in the hopes it would stem the sensation. But it did nothing to quell the rage and agony that began to consume me. I’d had years to deal with it, but the wounds were as fresh today as they’d been that night.

  I was dimly aware of pain in my right hand, but it wasn’t until I heard Nathan say, “Fuck, Vincent,” that I realized I’d gripped the glass in my hand so hard that it had broken. “Are you hurt?” Nathan immediately asked as he put his own glass down in the grass and reached for my fisted hand.

  “It’s fine,” I said. There was a small cut on my palm, but it could barely be called a scratch.

  “No, it’s not. It’s bleeding,” he said, and then he was lifting the bottom of his shirt and pressing the hem against my hand, turning the bright white fabric dark red. “We should go back to the house.”

  My eyes fell on his hand which he’d bandaged again at some point. “We match,” I said absently. It was a stupid thing to say, but I was finding that between the beers I’d had during dinner and the whiskey, my tongue was a little looser than normal.

  “Yeah, I guess we do,” he said as he grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me forward. With the amount he’d touched me in the last twenty-four hours, I had to wonder if he was just a touch-feely kind of guy or if there was something more going on.

  I wanted it to be the latter.

  Badly.

  But I knew I shouldn’t want that.

  It was like wishing that night twelve years ago had never happened
or that I hadn’t lost David.

  I couldn’t undo either of those things, and I couldn’t have this man even just for a night.

  Nathan continued to try and tug me forward, presumably to get me to the house, but I resisted, and when he finally realized I wasn’t moving anytime soon, he looked up at me with questioning eyes. I wished it were lighter out so I could see the unique mix of gold and brown in them.

  “Vincent,” he whispered. “Talk to me.”

  It figured he’d see it in my eyes…the need to give him something of myself. A part that no one else had.

  “They killed my brother,” I finally said.

  “Pierce?”

  When I nodded, Nathan asked, “Who?”

  “Guys who came looking for me. Pierce was staying at my house because he’d just finished his last tour and was leaving the army. I wasn’t home. They tortured him and then they slit his throat. Because he refused to give them what they wanted.”

  “What…what did they want?”

  I dropped my eyes because Nathan had started rubbing little circles into my wrist with his thumb.

  “They wanted him to tell me to come home. They used his phone to call me and tried to force him to tell me there was an emergency at the house. He warned me instead. Shouted at me not to come home. The call cut off right after that and by the time I got home, he was dead. Tied to a chair, covered in blood and bruises. They broke his fingers one by one, cut him, burned him.” As Nathan’s expression grew more and more horrified, I stopped talking and pulled my hand free of his. “You want to know why I live like this?” I said as I motioned to the house. “Because I don’t have a fucking choice. Because even though I got vengeance for my brother, there are a dozen more guys waiting in the wings to get their shot at me.”

  “I’m sorry-”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I snapped. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it.”

  “What do you want, Vincent?”

  “That’s the thirty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” I bit out. I took a few more steps back because I needed some fucking space. I’d admitted more to him than I’d intended and it had left me feeling shaky and off balance.