Unexpected Vows Read online

“Brenner’s?”

  “Fancy. I went there with Matt and Grace once.” Sudden apprehension creased her forehead and she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not promising anything.”

  “Well, don’t go all negative on me before we even get started, Goldilocks,” Colt teased. He knew this was a big step for her and he wasn’t at all discouraged by her hesitation.

  “Don’t start giving me nicknames just because I agreed to go out with you,” she retorted. “You think I didn’t notice you called me ‘babe’ earlier either?”

  Colt grinned. “Can’t help it, it sounds right to call you ‘babe,’ babe.”

  “So, how do we do this? I guess you’re going to pick me up,” Kate asked. “Or do we meet—”

  “There’s no meeting up at the restaurant like we’re strangers,” he said. “I’m picking you up at seven here at your apartment. No running down to meet me at the parking lot because it’s convenient. And, Kate, I am paying for dinner. I know you’re a strong independent woman, but I am an ole Southern boy. No splitting checks. I take care of what’s mine.”

  “Whoa there, cowboy, I’m not yours,” she protested on a laugh.

  “You will be.”

  “Are all Southern boys arrogant as well?”

  “The worst.”

  Her mouth quirked into a smile. She gave a slight shake of her head before she resumed eating. He was coming on too strong, but he had to redeem himself after he fumbled asking her out on a date. Her walls were coming down brick by brick and he was making sure she wasn’t getting a chance to build them up again.

  5

  Kate

  I waited for regret to hit me the following morning but it never did.

  Colt left right after lunch and it didn’t take long for me to close the blinds and hit the bed. I slept like the dead for twelve hours. My arm was still swollen when I woke up and it hurt when anything brushed against it. Otherwise, I was recharged and ready to face the day, or, in this case, my siblings.

  When I opened my fridge to see yogurt, fresh-cut fruit, and everything I needed to make a healthy breakfast, my heart squeezed at the thoughtfulness of the man who had done this. No, I didn’t regret Colt coming by yesterday. Hell, I had a working garbage disposal. His persistence was chipping away at my resistance. And the way he was doing it without being a jerk, but simply being kind, patient, albeit dominant when needed was … downright sexy. And when he declared that I was all he ever wanted.

  What woman could resist that?

  Colt Montgomery was one of a kind. I wasn’t naïve and even if I’d never had a relationship before, I’d dealt with enough men to know that the former SEAL was a gem. I was dangerously attracted to him and I had a feeling it wasn’t just physical, but the experiments done on me, the death of Piper, and that presence lurking in my head were obstacles to opening my heart. What if I was too damaged to give him what he needed? But could one dinner hurt?

  Except I’d never gone on a date. Ever. I’d gone on “fake” dates as part of an op. Acting came easy to me when I had to play a part and the target I was conning was a mass murderer or a crime lord. Sex to me was a physical release. It was rare that my emotions were involved, even rarer was the desire to see a man for more than a weekend. With my job, I never stayed in one place for long. But a woman had needs. There’d been a few times too many when my partners had gotten too attached.

  It was almost lunch when I left the apartment. I was picking up Cassie at TAC and we were spending the rest of the day together. The facility was near Edington. Acres of land were devoted to training the next generation of law enforcement. There were several target ranges and kill houses onsite as well as bomb disposal areas. TAC not only trained domestic LEOs, but also welcomed law enforcement units from other countries. One unit from Brussels arrived the week before.

  I pulled my SUV into an empty parking space and stepped out onto the front of the facility’s main building. A group of guys emerged from the double glass doors, took one look at me, and began scrambling to hold open the door.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” I said as I breezed by.

  Male banter ensued behind me mixed with some lewd comments, but they didn’t faze me. Cassie was smirking at the reception area as I approached.

  “The admirers you leave in your wake,” my sister teased.

  “Not as potent as I used to be,” I quipped. “You should have seen me strut my stuff in my twenties.”

  She burst out laughing. “Is that some kind of reverse humility?”

  “Ha. Not at all,” I replied. “You ready?”

  “Lucas wants to come with us. Are you okay with that?”

  My eyes lit up. “Of course I am. I’m surprised he can take the afternoon off.”

  “The feds are holding an emergency meeting in Atlanta regarding the recent string of mass shootings. Most of the LEOs are leaving for that after lunch. Trent is already there,” Cassie replied. “Come on. Lucas is finishing up at the range.”

  * * *

  “So you’re saying the feds have no leads regarding the recent massacres in Wilmington, Greenville, and Phoenix?” I asked.

  We were at Cassie’s house, discussing the country’s string of mass killings committed by our own citizens with no known motive—political, religious, or otherwise.

  Congregating in the living room, Lucas claimed the lone recliner and was fiddling on his laptop. He was collecting information from the FBI database. I was still getting used to seeing him in a man-bun. His bulk left no doubt he spent hours at the gym and he completed his badass look with sleeve tattoos.

  I was sitting cross-legged in front of the coffee table where Cassie set a crockpot of pork carnitas. We were having tacos for lunch. Cassie was plopped on the sofa; she had the TV on the XNN News, but it was on mute.

  “Nope.” Lucas looked up from his screen. “They’ve gone through bank and cell phone records. Gone through their emails, hard drives. Nothing.”

  “They all committed suicide before the authorities got to them,” Cassie added.

  “Huh,” I responded, deep in thought. I took hold of a soft corn tortilla. “Lucas, want me to make you some tacos?”

  “Sure.”

  “No.” Cassie glared at her twin. “Lucas can get up and make his own tacos. You should stop mothering us, Kate.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were,” my sister cut in. “And we wouldn’t mind it so much if you didn’t disappear for weeks on end. You don’t get to show us how it used to be for one afternoon and then take off when it suits you without even returning our calls. We’re not your responsibility anymore. Can’t you just be here with us, be our sister, our friend? We can have a new normal.”

  Tears brimmed Cassie’s eyes causing cracks in my heart.

  “Piper let you down,” she continued.

  I shook my head. “I let her down.”

  “That’s bullshit!” This from Lucas. His eyes were blazing. “Piper made her choice. You didn’t make it for her. She let you become a lab experiment so she could have her strength forever. That’s not what family does. Cassie gave her several chances to make it right. She didn’t. You’re not responsible for her death. Her getting killed was tragic, but we don’t blame you, Kate. Never think that.”

  “Every time you leave,” Cassie exhaled raggedly. “We’re afraid you won’t come back.”

  “Oh, Scout, no.” I uncrossed my legs from under me and sat beside her, placing a hand on her arm.

  “We can’t help it.” Her eyes slid shut and tears spilled down her cheeks. When she opened them, she said, “The longest you stayed was when Matt and Grace had trouble with the cartel and that was only for a few weeks.”

  “You and Trent were newlyweds. I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”

  “There’s plenty of room at the ranch and you could have stayed at the garage loft with Lucas,” her sister argued. “And then you took this job as a bounty hunter that takes you further away from us.”
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br />   “I’m trying to find my place in this world,” I explained. “Who am I outside of being an Enhanced Soldier? In almost all my thirty-seven years, that was who I was.”

  “And you can’t find your place among us?” Lucas queried.

  “It’s complicated,” I said, thinking of my battle with the Gray Room in my head that I was struggling to keep on lockdown.

  “What’s complicated?” Cassie asked. “Is something else going on with you?”

  “No, nothing is wrong,” I lied quickly.

  Cassie looked at me strangely, opened her mouth about to say something, but changed her mind. “Sometimes it’s as if you don’t want anything to do with us.”

  “Scout,” Lucas warned, using her nickname at Chrysalis.

  “Why else wouldn’t she return my texts or calls for over a month. I left dozens!”

  A wave of guilt engulfed me, especially knowing I kept in regular contact with Millie. Unless Trent had mentioned to my sister what I said to him, she was damned perceptive. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be a better communicator.”

  “I didn’t mean to be pushy,” she said with a sniff. Telling them the reason why I was keeping my distance was cruel, especially when they were trying to build a relationship with me. They weren’t asking for my soul and maybe I could come to a compromise with myself and my own demons.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about my date with Colt tomorrow night,” I interjected lightly to change the subject.

  “Get out!” Cassie exclaimed, her eyes dancing. “How did he manage that?” She glanced at Lucas. “Did you know?”

  Her twin shook his head, but there was a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “He didn’t tell you guys?”

  “Contrary to what you think, we don’t gossip at TAC,” Cassie laughed. “I even encouraged him to move on.”

  I frowned. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I was sort of successful too, but he had to move on with your Xerox copy.”

  “Mya, right?” I tried to keep the bite out of my voice, but I had a suspicion that I had my first taste of jealousy.

  “Yes.” She winced. “That was a disaster.” She grumbled an impatient sound. “Forget about her. Where’s he taking you tomorrow night?”

  “Brenner’s.”

  “Good choice,” Lucas piped in. “Their steaks are good.”

  “Wanna tag along?” I asked, deadpan.

  “There!” Cassie shrieked in condemnation. “Right there is a dating no-no.”

  “Maybe I need a chaperone,” I said innocently.

  “Oh my God, Kate, what decade were you born in?” my sister exclaimed in horror before her eyes widened with excitement. “Oooh, that reminds me. I got something for you.” She jumped up and disappeared into their library. Seconds later, she came back and dumped a paper bag in front of me. Curious, I looked inside and saw a collection of DVDs.

  Pulling one out, I laughed. “The Shining?”

  Cassie was giddy. “Remember all of our movie nights at Chrysalis?”

  “How can I forget?” I grinned as I dug out the other titles. Movie night was our favorite form of entertainment back then, not that we had many. Most of the higher-ups left for Bogota on Thursdays and that was when we made an effort to act like a normal family. The Colombian housekeeper who took care of our living quarters at Chrysalis snuck us pirated copies of American films. Horror was our favorite genre, but there was one movie I played over and over. A twinge of nostalgia pinched my heart when I recognized the characters on the cover of the next DVD I unearthed.

  The Princess Bride.

  “Maybe Colt should call you Princess Buttercup,” my sister said slyly.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m two decades too old to play the role of a princess.”

  Lucas guffawed. “I can just imagine you calling him Westley.”

  “Why, Bear, I’m impressed you recall the characters,” I teased.

  “It’s a cult classic,” Lucas mumbled.

  A scene on TV drew our collective gazes, putting an end to our banter. It was the footage from the aftermath of the Wilmington, Delaware, shooting three weeks before. Time to get the subject back on track.

  “Retired Marine Arthur Johnson,” Lucas read from his laptop. “Ran a successful hardware store he inherited from his father. No history of PTSD—loved by his family as well as former military colleagues, many of whom would vouch for the upstanding Marine. Married fifteen years, two kids, ages nine and twelve,” he paused, “killed thirty people and wounded more than one hundred at a Greenville County fair before killing himself.”

  Cassie and Lucas were going over the profiles of the perpetuators of the mass killings. There’d been six in the past three months and the casualties were climbing with the feds no closer to determining motive or any link between them. The Greenville S.W.A.T. unit was arriving in a few days, so it was important to assess their needs.

  “Why did he retire?” I asked.

  “His father had a stroke,” Lucas said. “He finished up his tour three years ago and didn’t re-enlist so he could take over the business.”

  “Where was he last deployed?”

  “Afghanistan.”

  “Had he been embedded with any tribe?”

  “You think he could have been indoctrinated?”

  I shrugged. “There’s that possibility but that’s the first thing the feds would look at. They would have found something by now.”

  “He and his family are devout Christians,” my brother added. “Family goes to church every Sunday. Their hardware store made a huge donation to Habitat for Humanity and Johnson himself volunteered his time.”

  “No wonder the feds are stumped,” I murmured. My gaze drifted to another picture. “How about him?” I pointed to a photo of an olive-skinned male with white hair who was wearing a suit.

  “Hamid Shah,” Lucas answered. “Second-generation immigrant from Pakistan … MIT graduate. Children equally successful—one is a lawyer and the other is on track to become a neurosurgeon. Shah was one year from retiring as director of a Fortune 500 company. He killed fifty people in a movie theater in Phoenix with a Semtex explosive. Nearly leveled the entire building.”

  “Are they sure he’s the perpetrator, not a patsy?” Cassie asked.

  “They found the explosive lab in the basement of the house,” he told his twin. “The only lead at the moment is that one of his companies is a defense contractor, which may explain how he got the material. He had a double major in chemical and electrical engineering so putting together a sophisticated bomb isn’t out of the question.”

  “Psychological profile?” I asked.

  “Nothing alarming.” Lucas gave one shake of his head and flattened his mouth. “Just doesn’t make any damned sense.”

  “No,” I replied slowly, pursing my own lips. “Sounds like …” I trailed off.

  “What?” the twins asked in unison.

  “Someone is making them do these things.”

  “That’s some blackmail,” Lucas growled. “How can you justify murdering so many innocents to save someone else.”

  “You can’t,” I replied. “Maybe that’s why they commit suicide, but it still doesn’t add up because what’s to say the one forcing them to commit these atrocities wouldn’t kill the loved ones they were being blackmailed with,” I sighed. “And I just negated my theory.”

  “It’s good to talk these through,” Cassie said.

  And that was what we did for the rest of the afternoon. Went over intel and wondered how regular people could become mass murderers.

  6

  Colt

  It had been a long-ass day and Colt was looking forward to crashing in bed. Trent dragged him to that meeting with the feds in Atlanta for the newly formed Task Force Shadow Track. No new information shared that was useful in determining motive of the recent mass murders. The CDC had also attended. Tissue samples were being sent to their labs to determine if a virus was involved that could radical
ly alter brain function. They were working closely with a Stanford University team that would do a microscopic study on the brain tissue to determine abnormalities not detected by the autopsies.

  The wife of Hamid Shah admitted that her husband had started acting strangely four months prior to the explosion. He was the only one who didn’t have a military background. The other five perps were all veterans from different branches of the military. One had been diagnosed with PTSD, but the rest retired with no issues.

  Colt was about five minutes from the ranch when his sec-phone flashed—his direct line to the CIA. In the few seconds while he was deciding to pull over or drive all the way to the ranch, his dashboard phone chimed with Millie’s number.

  He tapped the screen to answer. “Hey.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t checked it yet, should I?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Just swing by the diner and pick me up.”

  “Millie—”

  “It’s Level 3.”

  “Shit. Be there in five.”

  The headlights of his car lit a gravel driveway.

  Colt shot his passenger a look. Never before had he seen Millie this apprehensive, although he’d admit her reaction was warranted. The request of the admiral to meet at a safe house was a first.

  “Why couldn’t he send them to the diner like he always had,” she groused, giving voice to his own thoughts. “And he usually sends a courier in advance with background information before anyone shows up. Not this cryptic text.”

  As his Suburban rolled down the driveway, Colt’s experienced eyes caught the movements of a perimeter guard.

  He pulled in front of a nondescript bungalow, one with standard clay roof and stucco siding. The purpose of the landscaping was not ornamental, but strategic to provide concealment. Two men in cargos, tees, and tactical vests met them. Both were armed with M-4s.

  Whoever the admiral had in there was a high-value asset.

  One of the guards motioned them to exit the vehicle. After the necessary security checks, including retinal scans to confirm their identities, they were led into a living room. The boarded-up windows made the interior look like a foreclosed property. There was a galley kitchen to the right and three adjacent rooms with identical white doors reminding Colt of those games where you’d have to pick a door to determine your prize.