I don’t have to ask what she’s thinking about. I know. I’m there, too, reliving the night I asked her to marry me. It started with a promise of a surprise when we got home. Then dinner at our favorite Italian spot. Then we came here and danced. I tipped well to gain entry to the private balcony and loft area that is only open for rented parties. From there, I led her upstairs.
“Are we allowed up here?” she asks as I hold her hand and imagine the ring on her finger.
“You know I never break the rules.”
She laughs her sweet laugh. “You, Rick Savage, never follow the rules.”
But I had followed the rules. I’d asked her father for her hand in marriage, all proper like that. He’d been pleased. He’d been supportive. And then he’d encouraged me to leave. It doesn’t make sense, but for now, I shove that thought away and return to that trip upstairs to the loft above the dance floor. She’d been in a skirt, and I’d backed her into a corner, out of the line of sight, and went down on a knee.
“Rick, no,” she objects, pressing on my shoulders. “Not here.”
I already have my fingers around her panties, and a yank and a gasp later, I say, “Yes. Here.”
I settle my hand over Candace’s hand on her leg and when our eyes catch, our stares cutting through the shadows, I say, “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed the moment you trembled against my tongue and in my hands that night?”
She blushes and I catch her face in my hand. “I’ve relived every moment of that night, including you agreeing to marry me when we got home, a million times. It was one of the nights that I remembered when I needed hope, when I was tempted to do something so damn stupid, I knew I’d die. Because I wanted to come back to you. I need you to believe that.”
She covers my hand with hers. “Rick,” she whispers, right as there’s a thundering knock on the window that makes her jolt.
“Damn Asher,” I murmur, the coded knock telling me it’s him.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Candace asks urgently, catching my arm.
“Completely.” And with our moment lost, I move on to the business we need behind us. “Let’s go get Gordan out of there.” I kiss her and release her, opening my door as I do. Once I’m outside, I find Asher waiting on me and Adam towering over the car on the opposite side, opening the door for Candace. “Who’s watching the house?” I ask.
“Derek and Nelson,” Adam says, he and Candace heading in our direction. “They both work out of the Dallas office,” he says, as we form a small circle on this side of the Porsche, Candace by my side where she belongs. Where I’m keeping her.
I don’t know either man he’s named personally, but I don’t question their skill. Walker Security doesn’t hire lightweights. Misfits, yes. Lightweights, no. “What’s the plan?” Adam asks. “Because right now, it’s to corner him when he goes to his car. Talk to him. Bring him to our hotel where he’ll be safe. I take it that’s all changed?”
Candace hugs herself, and I know her. It’s a sign that she’s nervous. “I’d like to think he’ll talk to us once he knows his life is on the line,” she offers, “but if he’s sworn to top-secret status, he may not. I need to ask him questions when it’s just me and him before he knows his life is on the line. I’ll see if he wants to have a drink and when we’re chatting, seek answers.”
“It’s a good plan,” Asher says, hands on his hips. “But I’ve been thinking about this. The one risk we face is someone seeing you two together, and deciding whatever he is going to tell you, is a problem. That might be when they decide to take him out.”
“He’s right, Candy baby,” I say, turning to her, hands on her shoulders. “It’s too risky.”
“I have some of the most elite soldiers in the world standing here with me,” she reminds me, catching my arms. “And we’ve all agreed that I’m not in danger. Not right now. He is, though, and we need answers he might offer before he can’t offer them anymore.” Her lips thin. “Before he’s dead, too,” she offers tightly.
“That’s the point,” Asher comments. “You and Gordan together could trigger a hit on Gordan.”
“It’s crowded,” Adam says. “The risk is when they leave the building or when he leaves the building.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Candace says. “And then I’ll get him to a bathroom to wait on an escort out of the building.”
“Not the bathroom,” I say, mentally deciding that she’s right. She’s safe. For now, but also planning my actions, to ensure her safety. “Keep him in the crowd,” I continue. “If he goes to the bathroom, one of us will follow, but try to keep him in the public space.”
“Okay,” she agrees. “What about questions? What do we need to know the most?” She turns and faces the team again. “I figured I’d tell him that I’m worried about my father and that I need him to confirm that he’s alive and well, but why am I worried? What’s my story?”
“Be honest,” I say. “Tell him that your father’s top-secret program is going south. People are dying. See how he reacts.”
“And if he asks how I know all of this?” she asks.
“You were sent an anonymous warning,” Asher suggests, looking at me for confirmation.
I nod in agreement and a thought that should have been obvious hits me and has me turning Candace toward me again. “Gordan’s alive. Last I heard, Max Murphy is alive. He and I are the only ones who aren’t still working for Tag who are alive, which means—”
“Either of them could be working for Tag,” she supplies.
“Not Max. No chance in hell. But Gordan? Yes. That’s right. If he is, he’ll already know where you are, and where I am. He’ll try to run. Whatever the case, I’ll be right there, ready to act.”
“You can’t go in with me.”
“I’ve made my decision. You go in, I go in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Candace
If I go in, he goes in.
I push back on that point. “If you go with me, Rick, you ruin the entire point here. I’m supposed to be getting him to talk. And furthermore, if he works for Tag, I promise you, he knows who you are.”
“I’ll stay back and blend in,” Rick says.
I gape at him and look at the other men. “Is there anyone here that thinks this man,” I wave my hands up and down at him, “blends in?”
Asher laughs. “She has a point.”
“I blend just fucking fine,” Rick snaps, scowling at Asher before he returns all that fiery attention to me. “I’ll follow you in. I’ll be there, but you won’t know it.”
I scowl this time, but I stop fighting. I’m not going to win with him. “Who’s he here with, by the way?”
“His roommate, Casey Allen,” Adam says. “New guy. Med student. He looks unremarkable. Studies. Works. Occasionally comes here. Know him?”
“No,” I say. “But he probably knows me because of Gordan and my father. Or of me. That’s what happens when you’re a general’s daughter.” I shiver as an evening breeze gushes over us and promises more while reminding me that Halloween has just passed, and the holidays are fast approaching. “I’m going to get this over with.” I start walking.
“Strong-minded,” I hear Asher say. “She’ll fit right in.”
Rick catches my arm and turns me to face him. “You forgot something.”
I push to my toes and kiss him. “That too,” he says, “but this is what I was talking about.” He opens my purse and pulls out the gun, handing it to Asher. “They’ll search your purse and they have metal detectors. The tactical pens will be an issue as well, but you can get a couple by in your purse. Move them once you’re inside.”
I do some adjusting, removing pens from various places and sliding them into my purse. “Anything else?”
His hands come down on my arms, he pulls me to him and he kisses me. “Make this fast.” He turns me toward the door of the bar. I don’t hesitate. I start walking and I keep walking, already planning where to hide my pens on my person once i
nside, but somehow my mind darts in another direction, to Asher’s comment: She’ll fit right in. It begins to play over and over in my head even as I weave through parked cars, my skin prickling with Rick’s determined presence at my back. That’s a good thing, but I don’t know where this is headed. He lives in New York. I live here, but he’s asked me to go to New York with him. To visit, I remind myself. Why am I thinking about this now? Music lifts from inside the building that is more warehouse by design, the walls rattling. I approach the short line by the door, thunder rumbling overhead. Wonderful. I love the rain when it includes Rick Savage, but right now, this night, it needs to go away.
I step into the line that is about six deep, while several people follow behind me. Rick is one of those people. I don’t actually see him. I don’t dare look behind me, but I feel him there. I can always feel this man. The wind gusts again, and I hug myself, wishing I had a jacket. The doors open in front of the line and an old-school George Strait song lifts in the air. “All My Ex’s Live In Texas” teases Rick’s past here with me. Thankfully, it ends by the time I’m at the door, showing my ID and allowing my purse to be searched. The process goes quickly and as Rick assured me, the pens gain no attention. He was right. They’re a weapon no one sees as a weapon, and that offers me an edge.
By the time I’m walking down a hallway that leads to the main bar, I’ve shoved a pen in my pocket, placed one behind my ear, and placed another in the outer pocket of my purse. My cellphone buzzes with a text and I glance at a message from Rick that reads: You still have a damn fine ass.
Just that easily, I forget that I was an ex because this is his way of telling me he’s got my back. I not only believe him, but I’ve missed the way this man always makes me feel so—his. He always made me feel like I was his. Despite my worries about him joining me, I’m glad he’s here. I enter the main room, with Luke Bryan’s “Strip It Down” blasting through the speakers now, and into a swarm of boots, hats, and southern drawls. A bar sits directly in front of me, inviting newcomers to spend money and get their drink on quickly. To my left is a dance floor. To my right, a couple of pool tables. My phone buzzes with a text and when I pull it from my pocket, I read another message from Rick: At a bar table by the dance floor.
I turn and my gaze returns to the bar, and now Smith is standing there, a beer in hand, that he lifts in my direction in a barely perceivable motion. I’m surrounded by discreet bodyguards and while I’m not worried for me, I am worried for Gordan. Feeling empowered, I give Smith a lift of a finger, and then cut to my left, weaving through tables until I’m at the dance floor, which is set-up much like an ice skating rink with tables all around it. There are also high narrow bar tables of wooden planks, with barstools in front of them, so that those lucky ones who find seats can watch the dancing while drinking. I head for the left side of the dance floor and just when I’m about to give up on this side of the floor, I find Gordan and his roommate sitting on the last two barstools.
Nerves explode in my belly and I don’t know why. Of course, I know why. This man isn’t a killer. He’s a redheaded Opie, who is super sweet. But he might be a target of a killer, one who will be on alert the minute I approach him. Suddenly this feels like a bad idea, but so does letting one more second pass when this man might know how to protect my father and Rick. Because Rick might be a killer, but there are killers planning to kill him, too.
Nerves go away with that thought. Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Backroad” comes on and the dance floor is suddenly ten times more packed. A space next to Gordan opens and I seize the moment. I close the space between me and him, and step to his side, opposite his friend. Grabbing the bar, I glance over at him. “Hi, Gordan.”
He looks up mid-laugh and his green eyes go wide. He turns to face me. “Candace.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he croaks. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No.” I lean in close to him, whispering in his ear to overcome the volume of the music. “I need your help. My father is involved with something that’s gone south. I think he’s in danger. I know you know details.” I pull back and his expression is ghostly, the lines of his face etched hard despite his full cheeks. He shoves his glasses up his nose, stands up, and downs the drink in front of him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that downs his drinks, but I don’t really know him. I also notice that his wild red curls, which I’ve spied on a few occasions, are presently buzzed short. After basic, a buzzed cut is not regulation, and far from standard in his administrative role where headgear isn’t a consideration. He leans over and says something to his friend, and then turns to me, motioning me onward.
That’s when the lights go out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Savage
The bar goes pitch black, the kind of pitch-black men like me know as the dark side of bloody.
Exactly why the minute the lights are out, I close the few steps between me and Candace, and grab her hand, becoming the body armor I’d vowed to become earlier this very night. “Don’t move,” I murmur by her ear.
“Gordan,” she whispers, gripping my shirt. “Rick, what about Gordan? Where is he?”
Cell phones start flickering around us, flashlights blasting through the darkness. “You’re my concern,” I say by her ear. “One of our men will grab Gordan. I’ve got them on a hot mic.”
“Gordan,” she whispers. “He’s why we’re here.”
I catch her hair with a firm enough grip to shock her. This is about safety, her safety. I give a sharp whisper of, “Quiet, baby.”
Proving how damn stubborn she is, she doesn’t even think about being quiet. “Shine a light and look for him, Rick.”
“No light,” I bite out. “Just wait.”
It’s right then that Adam speaks into the earpiece I’m wearing. “Savage?”
“Adam’s speaking to me,” I warn her before I answer him. “I’ve got Candace,” I respond. “Negative on Gordan. What about you, Smith?” I ask because we’re all connected. Me, Smith, Adam, and Asher.
“Negative,” he replies, but he’s not on the mic. He’s right beside us. “He’s not fucking here.”
“He hasn’t exited the building through the front,” Asher chimes in.
“Or the back,” Adam adds.
Or they missed him, I think.
The lights come on and the DJ sounds off. “Boo. Halloween is over but we’re still bringing the spooky to your weekend. How was that for getting your adrenaline flowing?” he asks and the crowd cheers.
“Stay behind me,” I order in Candace’s ear. “Don’t move until I say move and then we’re going straight to the exit.” I turn, using my body as a shield as the DJ continues speaking. “Let’s get that dance floor moving again.” “Old Town Road” starts to play and the crowd is pure electric energy. The kind of crowd you can get lost or killed in just as easily.
Smith is already scanning the immediate view of the thick crowd before he’s shaking his head at me. Gordan is nowhere in our visual reach. That’s not an accident. “Back,” Smith says, already headed toward the rear exit.
“Front,” I claim, catching Candace’s hand and pulling her to my side. “We’re leaving. Stay alert.”
“Where is he, Rick? He was right beside me.”
“He ran or someone took him,” I say. “Either way, if we don’t find him inside this bar, he’s not here. One of those pens needs to be in your hand.” I don’t wait for her to make it happen. I start walking the path between the dance floor and tables, scanning for trouble, not Gordan. I meant what I said to Candace. He’s not here anymore and I want Candace out of here. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place, and every single one of us that thought letting her do this was a good idea deserves an ass-whipping. We’ll take turns and beat the shit out of each other. Some asshole steps in front of us with two beers in his hands. I halt before they end up all over us, but I want to kick his fucking ass now, too.
“Move, cowboy,” I order. “Befo
re I castrate you.”
“You want to fight, motherfucker?”
I do, but I recognize my displaced anger, and how bad that could turn out for a guy just having a night out. For that reason, and despite how satisfying punching him would be, I grab Candace’s arm and walk her around him. “He deserved that pencil you’re holding,” I mutter, snagging her hand again before we head for the door, where we exit without any further delay and just in time for a drop of cold rain to smack me on the nose.
Adam steps in front of us the minute we’re out of the crowd. “Anything?” Candace asks him before I can.
“Not yet,” he replies when a woman’s voice lifts. “He said someone is dead upstairs. Someone is dead!”
Fuck.
Gordan.
I grab Candace and hand her off to Adam. “This is Tag’s doing and Tag’s men. I need to handle this. Keep her safe.”
“Rick, no,” she says, grabbing my shirt. “Don’t go back in there.”
“Every second counts, baby,” I say, untangling her hands from my shirt, her desperation something I can’t cave to right now. “Stay with Adam.” I kiss her and step forcefully away while Adam grabs her and turns her toward the parking lot. I turn and jog back into the bar, ignoring the guard telling people to stay back. I linebacker my way inside, prepared to kill or be killed. Because that’s what a confrontation with Tag’s men might come down to.
***
Candace
“Adam, please,” I beg, trying to keep up because the man has my arm and is walking with me at lightning speed across the dark parking lot. The lights didn’t just go out inside the building, they went out here too, and they haven’t come back on out here, as they have inside the bar. That doesn’t seem good. But back to him dragging me through the darkness, where the damn boogie man otherwise known as Tag, could be waiting. The man is like six feet four inches. I can barely keep up, and my God, why is there water misting from the sky again?! “Please go with Rick, Adam,” I add. “What if Tag wants him dead too?”
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