Confusing as hell. Simply put: the four of them had determined that they’d paired up with the wrong person in the beginning. And according to the stories, no one had been bothered by the switch. Then again, Trace knew that the four of them had a relationship that went a little deeper than merely friends. They were family, according to them.
Not only had they married the women who’d introduced them to one another, they’d also done pretty much everything together from that point on: grow their business, start families, raise their children. Even the kids they had were born relatively close to one another. Almost as though it had been planned.
Trace dropped into one of the chairs across from Bryce and Casper. Hunter grunted as he eased off the barstool he’d claimed a few minutes before and then gently maneuvered into the chair beside Trace.
“Problems? You hurt or somethin’? Or just gettin’ old?” Trace chided Hunter.
“Fuck no,” his older brother retorted, grimacing as he shifted in his chair but not clarifying which question he was answering.
Trace let it be.
“Where’s TJ?” Casper asked, his question directed at Bryce, referring to Bryce’s brother, who also worked for Sniper 1.
“On his way. Said he had something he needed to take care of first.”
Shit. TJ was coming? That made it official. This was serious. And if they had to wait for TJ, Trace figured he might as well get comfortable. No telling how long it would take the man to show up. He seemed to work on his own timeline.
The iPad chimed, notifying them of another visitor.
Needing something to do, Trace pushed to his feet so he could retrieve the tablet. As he moved across the kitchen, he realized it would’ve been a hell of a lot simpler if he’d just carried the damn thing with him. Peering at the screen, he frowned.
It only took a fraction of a second for Trace to recognize the shark-gray metallic Corvette Stingray idling at the gate. With the top down, despite the frigid temperature—it seemed they’d brought a bout of cold weather back with them from Connecticut—Trace saw his sister tapping her fingertips on the steering wheel. After keying in her code, she accelerated, shooting up the drive as the gate closed slowly behind her.
“You invite Courtney?” Trace asked his father.
Casper shook his head. “But I intended to. Why? She here?”
“Yep.”
A minute later, Trace’s exuberant sister traipsed into the house, waving over her shoulder as she made her way to the stairs. “I’m here to see Marissa. Y’all have fun!”
“Young lady,” Casper called out, “I want to talk to you before you leave.”
“Yup,” was the only response that came back as Courtney rounded the top of the stairs, disappearing from view.
Trace’s phone chirped and he grabbed it, glancing at the screen.
As the confusion over what was going on took root, Trace realized he should’ve just ignored his phone that morning and opted to sleep.
It was going to be a long damn day, he could feel it.
Fourteen
“Hey, girlie! How are you do—?”
Marissa jumped, damn near launching herself right out of her chair as she stared wide-eyed at her best friend, who was standing stone still in the doorway to her bedroom.
“Oh, shit, Marissa! What’s wrong?”
What was wrong?
Seriously?
Marissa’s heart was lodged in her throat, her eyes peeled back as she watched Courtney lower her arms slowly, as though she were dealing with an injured animal. Two seconds before, Courtney had barreled through the door, her chipper voice echoing through the spacious room as if she’d introduced herself using a freaking megaphone.
Unable to get her voice to work, Marissa cleared her throat. Only then did she manage to croak out, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Realizing she was still clutching her chest, Marissa did her best to fight off the hysteria, forcing her hands back to her lap.
Shit. She really needed to get a grip.
“I. Am. So. Sorry,” Courtney said dramatically, drawing each word out slowly, her nearly colorless eyes wide as she gaped at Marissa. “Still shaken up after last night, huh?”
Leave it to Courtney to dismiss something as serious as an intruder attempting to break into the house. Since the woman was a powerhouse, it shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Sometimes Marissa wished she were as brave as Courtney.
Marissa wanted to tell her that she was still shaken up from the first time—nearly a year ago—when some asshole had attempted to snatch her from the mall, or the second time he’d successfully drugged her and put her in the trunk of his car, or even when he’d tried to blow her up in her own house, but she didn’t.
The last thing Marissa wanted to do was to make her best friend believe she’d been sitting there feeling sorry for herself. Because she hadn’t. Not much, anyway.
“It’s okay,” Marissa reassured her friend. “It’s my fault.”
“The hell it is. Good grief, woman. Here I am, barreling through your door like I did when we were teenagers. I wasn’t thinking—”
Marissa cut Courtney off before she apologized any more. “Seriously, I’m good.” Granted, the squeak in her voice probably wasn’t all that convincing.
She was good, though. Now anyway. Her heartbeat was somewhere in the normal range, or relatively close to it, and the roaring in her head had ceased. All good signs.
Courtney held up her cell phone, waving it at Marissa as though the small electronic device was actually the culprit. “I was giving my brother shit.”
“Which brother?” Marissa asked. All three of Courtney’s brothers were older and deserving of her wrath, at least according to Courtney.
“Trace. Who else?” Courtney retorted as she flopped down into the empty chair across from Marissa. “You remember him, right? The guy you spent so much time with recently.”
Marissa rolled her eyes.
“Are you really all right? I mean, I know I scared the shit out of you and all, but seriously? Other than that?”
There wasn’t an easy way to answer Courtney’s question, so Marissa forced a smile as she continued to breathe steadily. If she told Courtney that nothing was wrong, first, it would be a lie, and second, Courtney would see right through her. Because of the fact there were only eleven days’ difference in their ages—Courtney being older—and they’d practically grown up in the same house, Marissa couldn’t very well lie to her best friend.
At least not well, anyway.
Keeping a weak smile pasted on her lips, Marissa forced her muscles to relax. Although Courtney’s entry left something to be desired, Marissa couldn’t help but welcome the distraction from her pressing thoughts. She’d spent the last hour ping-ponging between an inconvenient depression and soul-wrenching fear—a direct result of the nightmares that had started up again.
Courtney tilted her head, clearly studying her, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. That damn smile was like a beacon, calling out to the answering one inside of Marissa and demanding she return it. Unable to help herself, a real smile formed on Marissa’s lips, relief engulfing her as she let all of her previous worries temporarily dissipate into thin air.
“What?” Marissa asked with a chuckle after a lengthy staring contest that she apparently lost.
“You’re not telling me something,” Courtney stated, tilting her head to the opposite side, her perfectly plucked eyebrows slanting downward, her lips pursed as she appeared to be trying to read Marissa’s mind. “You have one minute to tell me what it is,” Courtney finally demanded.
God, the woman was bossy. Courtney Kogan liked to order people around, and even Marissa had to admit she generally got her way. Probably because she was the youngest of four kids—the only girl, on top of that—and she’d had twenty-six years of practice wrapping her entire family, and Marissa’s, around her little finger.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” Marissa a
ssured her, although she had absolutely no idea what Courtney might be referring to.
“Yeah? I don’t recall getting the details of the time you recently spent with my brother. Care to share?”
No, she really didn’t. There wasn’t much to tell, anyway. Nothing had happened. Nothing at all.
“Wait a minute,” Marissa stated, purposely changing the subject. “Why’re you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Courtney grinned, straight white teeth flashing brightly back at her. “Nope, not today. First Friday in, like, six months that I’ve had off.”
“Slacker,” Marissa mumbled, pretending to be scoffing at her friend.
“I know, I know. I’m working on that, actually,” Courtney said in mock seriousness. “It’s tough, but I’ve been tryin’ my best to improve that skill, and I figured hangin’ out with you would definitely increase my chances of mastering it.”
“Oh, shut up,” Marissa said without much heat, trying to scrounge up her stern tone of voice but failing. “I know you aren’t calling me a slacker.”
“Never,” Courtney grinned, her white eyes sparkling with humor. “Although, if my eyes aren’t deceiving me, you’re still in your pajamas, you haven’t brushed your hair—probably not your teeth, either—and you’re practically still in bed.”
Marissa laughed at Courtney’s not-so-far-off description. Okay, fine. So she was sitting in a lounge chair with a blanket draped over her legs, staring out her bedroom window, but she was dressed. Although some people would argue that yoga pants and a sweatshirt weren’t exactly daytime attire. Her hair was haphazardly clipped on the top of her head, and yes, she had brushed her teeth, thank you very much.
“Who let you in again?” Marissa questioned, frowning. “I need to know who I should talk to about the house rule of keeping the riff-raff out.”
Courtney smiled. “I let myself in today. Surprisingly, Trace wasn’t guarding the front gate like a Rottweiler seeking fresh meat.”
Trace Kogan. The much too tall, much too sexy shadow that Marissa had acquired ever since he’d dragged her ass out of the safe house in Connecticut and driven her back home to her parents’ house in Texas. The very man who’d spent last night in her bedroom—sleeping in the very chair Marissa was sitting in, in what appeared to be an incredibly uncomfortable position for less than an hour.
“I’m kinda surprised he didn’t find a way to keep me out,” Courtney tacked on, glancing down at her phone.
“You’re his sister,” Marissa stated unnecessarily with a rusty chuckle. “Then again, you are a brat, so I could definitely see why he might keep you on the far side of the fence.”
“Me? A brat?” Courtney tried to act offended, but the huge grin that lit up her face belied her attempt. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to have you home?”
No, she hadn’t—not in so many words—and the sincerity in Courtney’s voice gave her pause. Now that Marissa thought about it, she felt as though not a single day had passed since this whole nightmare that was now her life had begun nearly one year ago. Well, minus a few changes. Like the permanent bodyguard she’d acquired recently and the fact that said bodyguard was keeping her locked in her parents’ house, under his thumb.
Other than that, everything was the same.
Okay, that was a huge lie, too, but Marissa was going to continue telling herself that so maybe it would become the truth.
Courtney belted out a laugh as she stared down at her phone. “God, can he be any more pathetic?” she asked, apparently talking to no one in particular.
“Who?”
“Geez, woman. Weren’t you listening? Trace. He told me that he’s gonna hijack my cell phone if I don’t leave him alone.”
It was nice to hear that Trace was at least joking with someone, because he damn sure wasn’t showing his lighter side around Marissa. Ever since they’d gotten back to Texas, Trace had been more closed off. It seemed that when they were in the same room together, the man was always fiercely focused, as though he expected the paintings on the wall to morph into bad guys and jump out and snatch her. Ever since the night he had held her in his arms, he’d been … different. Even more serious than before.
She knew the man well enough to know he wasn’t always this uptight, but she was beginning to wonder whether he’d lost that side of himself somewhere along the way.
Aside from being her best friend’s brother, as well as intensely focused on his job, Trace was the definition of alpha. Light brown hair, white-gray eyes, perfect white teeth—except for a tiny chip on the left front one—and those damned dimples. His no-nonsense approach to life wasn’t the only quality Marissa was attracted to, but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Not even Courtney.
Marissa looked up to see Courtney staring at her, that devious grin tilting her lips knowingly.
Ugghhh! He infiltrated her thoughts at the most inopportune times.
“Did you know that you blush when you think about my brother?”
“I do not,” Marissa disputed, her actions contradicting her denial when she reached up and touched her warm cheeks.
Courtney merely laughed, but like always, she fluttered on to a different subject. “So, how are you really feeling? If you don’t mind my saying, you kinda look like hell.”
Without missing a beat, Marissa said, “Disappointing to hear since I was just thinking I could easily be runner-up in a beauty pageant. Hey! Are those what I think they are?” Marissa’s attention locked on to the white paper bag Courtney had sitting on her lap.
How in the world had she missed that?
Another mischievous grin came from Courtney as she picked up the bag and swung it teasingly between them. “Maybe.”
Reaching out to snatch the surprise, Marissa wasn’t fast enough, but then Courtney, bless her, was tossing the sack her way.
“You went to the office today? I thought you said it was your day off,” Marissa stated as she roamed noisily through the bag, desperately seeking the one thing—other than her best friend—that was guaranteed to put a smile on her face.
Chocolate.
And now Courtney was there to distract her from the unwelcome depression that was hanging on like a wet blanket, one she couldn’t seem to crawl out from underneath. The damn nightmares could take the wind out of her sails faster than anything.
But give her chocolate and Courtney, and the world suddenly looked bright again.
Little things.
“Not the office, but yes, I stopped by Percolation. Just for you,” Courtney told her as she continued to text something on her phone.
“Have I mentioned that I love you?” Marissa said with her mouth full.
“Not enough lately, no.” Courtney smirked as she pulled her feet up underneath her and got settled in the oversized chair opposite Marissa. “Oh, and Ally said to tell you hi.”
“How is she, anyway?” Marissa asked when she swallowed, handing the last muffin in the bag back to Courtney.
Marissa couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen Ally Shaffaer, the beautiful owner of the coffee shop located on the bottom floor of the office building that Sniper 1 Security worked out of, and one of Marissa’s good friends.
“She’s good. Or so she says. She couldn’t chat long because they were busy.”
“I need to get over there and see her,” Marissa said absently, knowing that wasn’t likely going to happen in the near future. If Trace had his way, Marissa wasn’t sure she’d be outside for quite some time.
“I’m sure she’d love that. She said she’s having a helluva time right now.”
“Oh, no. Why?” Marissa met Courtney’s gaze as she waited to hear what was wrong.
“According to her, that infamous writer’s block has moved in permanently. If you ask me, I think she needs a man to come in and spice things up for her. You know, give her some material for those books she writes.”
Marissa laughed. “Court, she writes thrillers, not romance.”
&nb
sp; Did she mention that Ally Shaffaer was the Ally Shaffaer? Best-selling author who moonlighted as a coffee shop owner?
“So? Maybe she needs to try something new. Something with a little sex in it.”
“And maybe Clay can be her muse, huh?” Marissa added, referring to one of Marissa’s older brothers. The man would deny it to anyone and everyone, but he clearly had a thing for the lovely coffee shop owner.
“God, that’s brilliant!” Courtney exclaimed. “See, I knew you were good for something.”
Marissa laughed, enjoying her best friend’s teasing. It had been far too long since they’d had a chance to just sit and chat. Most of their correspondence lately had been done via email, on a secure server. Hell, Marissa hadn’t even been allowed to keep her cell phone during the time she’d been stashed in one safe house after another.
Brushing off the thought, Marissa wiped the crumbs from her hands before gingerly setting the muffin wrapper on the side table beside her and reaching for her lukewarm coffee.
“You know I’m right,” Courtney rambled. “Wouldn’t you rather be reading about sex? Then again, these are Ally’s books we’re talking about. And since she’s got a crush on your brother, I definitely wouldn’t want to think about sex and any of my own brothers, so maybe she should use, like, a fireman or something for her muse. Hell yes. Sexy, hot fireman sex. I’m gonna text her my idea.”
Marissa had to agree with Courtney there; she definitely didn’t want to think about Ally and Clay together. Or hell, Clay and anyone, for that matter.
Something loosened in Marissa’s chest as she watched Courtney reach for her phone again. This was exactly what she’d been missing over the last year. The random conversations with her best friend. Courtney’s enthusiasm over her own quirky ideas. All of it. And this morning, it seemed to be just the thing Marissa needed to clear the lingering dread from her brain.
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 12
