Unexpected Vows Page 6

  Not too sure about that. They could be full-blown ES yet to realize their full potential. Shit, he had to remember Josh was an empath.

  Milk. Kids needed milk.

  He poured two glasses and headed to the table. “Here you go.”

  “So,” he said and sat across from them. “Did you guys sleep well?”

  Olivia nodded and took a sip of her milk.

  “Yes,” Josh answered. His eyes wandered to the windows. “I thought I heard horses this morning.”

  “This is a horse ranch.”

  “It is?” The boy’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen real horses, just on TV.”

  Colt scooted his seat closer. “Did they ever let you out at all?” Porter said they were rescued from some kind of estate which had been an old asylum.

  “No, we were only allowed in the gardens.”

  “Were there other kids?”

  Josh shrugged. “No. Just me and Liv.”

  “Were you locked in a room?”

  “Sometimes. When we’d fight against the white coats.”

  “Doctors?”

  “Yes. Or when we’d disobeyed our father.”

  Father

  It was a sucker punch to his gut.

  Millie dropped a spoon and muttered an excuse, but she tilted her head to Colt telling him to keep Josh talking.

  Meanwhile, he was trying not to lose his shit knowing Kate was connected to another man through these kids … and maybe more. What did he really know of her past?

  “So your father stayed with you?” He pushed through gritted teeth. Empath. Josh was an empath. Keep your cool, Montgomery.

  “No, but he’s supposed to, right, Mr. Colt?” Josh asked. “Children are supposed to be with their parents.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your father’s name?”

  “Aleksey. Ms. Elisa calls him polkovnik.”

  Russian for colonel.

  Colt’s jaw tightened. What else had Porter not told them?

  “Ms. Elisa is your nanny, right?” That much was in the kids’ file.

  “Yes,” Josh replied. “She was nice.”

  “Do you look like your father, Josh?”

  The boy nodded. “Papa is big. I don’t think I’ll be big like him.” So dark hair must be from their dad.

  “Tall?”

  Josh hitched his shoulders. “He’s just big.”

  “Bigger than me?” Colt couldn’t help asking.

  Millie snorted from the kitchen.

  “No,” Josh said, his eyes widening. “You’re really big, Mr. Colt.”

  If he could thump his chest like the king of the jungle, he would.

  “How many pancakes do you want, Josh?” Millie called from the kitchen.

  “Two.”

  “How about you, Olivia?”

  The little girl put down her glass of milk and raised her hand with two fingers up.

  “How often do you see your father?”

  A sad look came over the boy’s face. His mouth twisted and he shrugged again. “Once a month.”

  “Are you sad we took you away from him?” Millie asked as she set the plate of pancakes in front of Olivia.

  “Why should I be?” Josh said defensively. “He doesn’t want us and he hurt Liv.”

  Both he and Millie tensed.

  In a controlled tone, Colt asked, “What do you mean?”

  “He let those white coats take her even when she was crying.”

  “Josh,” Olivia whimpered and clutched her hair with her tiny fists. Her mouth trembled as her face crumpled.

  “Okay.” Millie speared a warning look at Colt that clearly said to stop with the interrogation. “Let’s eat breakfast first.”

  “Sorry,” Colt muttered.

  “He wants Mom,” Josh blurted out.

  Fuck.

  He didn’t know what to ask because it may upset Olivia further, but judging from the look on Millie’s face, she was dying to ask a question.

  “Papa said the reason he’s away so much …” Josh started. Colt and Millie leaned forward and nodded their heads in encouragement.

  “He was looking for her. He said he found her and we will be a family again,” the boy said in a rush. “He said … he said he needed to let the white coats take Liv to make it happen, but when they brought her back, she stopped talking.” Josh looked at Colt. “I don’t want Mom if it will hurt my sister.”

  “Of course,” Colt said gently. “Your sister comes first. We won’t let anyone hurt either of you, all right?”

  Millie stepped back into the kitchen, wringing her hands and clearly at a loss at what to do. Olivia seemed to have calmed down and tipped her glass to finish her milk. Afterward, she started digging into her pancakes as though her freak-out never happened.

  Josh was staring at him intently as if trying to figure him out.

  “Look, bud,” Colt said. “You need to stop using your empathic abilities to find out what we’re feeling or thinking. It makes us uncomfortable.”

  The boy stared at his glass of milk. “Sorry.”

  “Trust us. We’re not the bad guys and we only want to help you and your sister.”

  “Gotcha, Mr. Colt.”

  A huge platter of bacon and more pancakes landed on the table effectively ending the line of conversation.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Mac showed up at the house and Colt introduced the kids to his ranch manager. Mac was surprised when he saw their young visitors but he managed to mask it quickly. Colt made sure the twins were comfortable with him, but he needn’t have worried because their excitement about meeting the horses put them immediately at ease. Millie also volunteered to stay behind while Colt did his check-in at TAC.

  He left the ranch around noon. On his way to the training facility, he took a detour to Kate’s apartment. Leaving a message on her phone cancelling their date didn’t sit well with him. He wanted to make sure there was no doubt about his sincerity in taking her out.

  He knocked on her door and hoped she was home.

  No answer. He was tempted to call her.

  Just when he was about to rap on the door again, her neighbor in the facing unit came out. Judging from the uniform the woman was wearing, she worked in the dive bar across the apartment complex.

  The woman’s eyes appraised his body from head to toe. “I saw Kate leave an hour ago.”

  Colt exhaled in disappointment. “I’ll catch her later. Thanks.” He headed for the stairs.

  “She had her duffel bags,” the neighbor called out. “Looks like she was heading out of town.”

  A pit formed in his gut. “Did she say when she was coming back?”

  The woman shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Colt lifted his chin in silent acknowledgment as thoughts swirled through his head. Dammit, why would she leave? Had she planned to leave before or after his message. Had she been planning to stand him up to piss him off so he’d quit pursuing her? His eyes felt like popping out from their sockets. He thumbed Kate’s number.

  It rang until it got to voicemail.

  Goddammit, Kate.

  “Kate, I’m at your apartment. Hoped at least to see you today even if we couldn’t have dinner but your neighbor told me you’re heading out of town. Can you please give me a call when you get this?”

  He ended the call, still pissed off.

  When he got to TAC, he saw Cassie coming out of the office.

  “Hey,” Cassie greeted him. “Thought you said you weren’t coming in.” She smiled slyly. “Ready for your date tonight?” Her smile faded when she took in the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I cancelled on Kate this morning—”

  “What?”

  He ignored Cassie’s glare and continued. “Something came up, all right? She wasn’t answering her phone, so I left a message. Stopped by her apartment and a neighbor said she’d left with two duffel bags.”

  Frustrated, he dragged fingers through his hair.


  Cassie crossed her arms, still maintaining her glare. “I can’t figure out if I’m mad at you or Kate. What could be so important that you had to break a date—the date—that you’ve been waiting for?”

  Just then, Trent walked through the doors. He spotted their tableau and winced. The sheriff knew something.

  He sauntered up to them and rested his hands on his hips. He was staring at Cassie. “I guess you both know.”

  “Kate skipped town,” his wife said accusingly. Colt wasn’t sure if her ire was directed at him or the sheriff.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Trent replied. “Although,” he said, rubbing two fingers under his chin. “I know Montgomery here broke off their date and Kate said she had better things to do anyway.”

  “I had something come up,” Colt gritted through his teeth. Christ. How many times would he have to repeat that.

  “Like what?” Cassie challenged.

  “Can’t tell either of you.”

  Trent’s eyes narrowed. “Might I remind you that I’m the law in this town.”

  “Not with this.”

  “This has the admiral written all over it,” Cassie said. She lowered her voice. “He has you hiding someone again, hasn’t he?”

  “Not confirming or denying,” Colt replied curtly. He looked at Trent. “Where did she go?”

  “Frances is running the skip trace,” the sheriff replied. “From what I gathered, they’re heading south.”

  He left Kate voicemails until he was sure she was so annoyed she’d have no choice but to return his calls. He’d called until her voicemail was full and wouldn’t accept more messages. There was desperation in his need to know where she was. He felt so out of control he wished he had injected her with a tracker—the BloodTrak serum—to know where she was.

  Realizing that Cassie and Trent were witnessing his frustration, he schooled his features and glanced at the sheriff. “Can’t stay long. Wanna go over the Greenville S.W.A.T. training runs?”

  8

  Kate

  “So, tell me about the guy.”

  “Which guy?” I asked innocently.

  “The one who has you on edge,” Frances said. We were sitting in her SUV which was parked across from a motel, staking out our skip.

  “You’re imagining things.”

  “Ha. I don’t think so,” Frances replied. “Rumor has it a certain rancher is sweet on you.”

  I shook my head in amusement. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors.”

  Dating etiquette was foreign to me. When Colt broke off our date via voicemail, I did the next best thing so I wouldn’t overanalyze his message—I looked for something to do. Confusing emotions hit me when he canceled our first date. It felt like disappointment and an odd kick of rejection. No matter how much I wanted to mope, I convinced myself that I wasn’t wired for insecurity and the answer wasn’t lying at the bottom of a tub of ice cream. I moved on. So, I called Frances and asked if she needed me on the skip she was after and she said yes.

  As soon as we left Buckland County heading toward Miami, I knew I’d overreacted. I saw a missed call from Colt, so I switched off my personal phone. I usually did that anyway when I was on a job and switched to prepaid. Three days had passed and I had an inkling I’d left a shit storm behind, especially after the conversation I had with Cassie and Lucas. A frustrated sigh escaped me.

  “Would you quit that?” Frances whispered.

  My knee was jerking up and down. I rarely did that.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” my mentor told me. “You’re distracted.”

  “I’m good.” I nodded at our surveillance feed from the camera we installed in the inn’s hallway. “Looks like our skip is on the move.”

  “Show time,” Frances said.

  * * *

  The script was simple. I had no qualms using my physical charms to my advantage. And if the person was an accused drug dealer, I had no problem playing a role to reel him in.

  We’d already flattened a tire of the rental we parked beside the skip’s car. I was wearing Daisy Duke shorts, the curve of my ass peeking from the fringe. I wore a white cotton blouse with long bell sleeves to cover my swollen arm. It was unbuttoned to reveal generous cleavage, the edges of the shirt knotted above my navel. Not an unusual outfit for warm Miami weather.

  I bent at the waist, as if inspecting the flat, and made sure my butt was sticking out suggestively. My golden hair draped in a cloud of curls from my head. Pain exploded at the base of my skull and my eyes pressed against their sockets.

  Shit! I straightened up quickly until the feeling passed.

  “Dammit! He changed his mind and went back into his room,” Frances said through my earpiece.

  “What?”

  “He got a call and turned back.”

  “Wait. Someone made us?” I caught the flash of black in my peripheral vision.

  “Two black SUVs heading your way.” Frances’s voice sounded like she was jogging. “Act normal. I’m coming toward you.”

  “Maybe you should keep out of sight,” I muttered as I folded over the car again. Were the people in the SUV acquaintances of our runaway drug dealer? The vehicles stopped right beside me. Ignoring them at this point would be conspicuous.

  I nonchalantly turned my head and lowered my sunglasses slowly. The second-row door opened and well-polished shoes hit the pavement before the passenger came into view.

  Son of a bitch.

  It was the admiral. Five men and one woman alighted from the SUVs.

  “Kate.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I scowled, straightening my posture, all suggestions of seduction gone.

  “That’s not a very welcoming question.” I hated how his voice was calm and condescending.

  “I repeat,” I snapped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I came to fetch you.” He nodded to a huge man with mocha skin who, in turn, signaled his colleague to head into the motel.

  “Me? Or are you after our drug dealer?”

  “He’s low-level scum. Not my concern.”

  “Then why did you send your men into the motel? You’ll spook him.”

  “Probably.” The admiral shrugged. “You should be thankful. His associates from the cartel were circling the motel.”

  “What?”

  “They probably warned him.”

  Porter’s remaining men suddenly drew their weapons and pointed them over my shoulder.

  “Kate, are you all right?”

  I turned to see Frances about ten feet away with her gun drawn. I gestured for her to lower her semi-automatic. “It’s okay. I know him.”

  “What’s going on?” my friend asked.

  Shouting erupted inside the motel, fueling our already tense standoff. Porter was the only one looking unconcerned. Actually, he looked bored.

  A few seconds after the shouting stopped, the motel door burst open and our fugitive was being led out by the big man and his partner. Our target was red-faced and gagged with his wrists tied behind his back.

  Porter nodded to the drug dealer. “As a sign of goodwill. Manning?” He lifted his chin at the big guy who led the skip to Frances.

  “Would someone tell me what’s going on?” my partner asked, her face more confused than ever.

  “Fuck you, Porter. You don’t get to show up and stick your nose in my business.” A look of disgust crossed my face. “I hate who you represent,” I added before turning to walk to Frances.

  Manning blocked me.

  Lowering my head, I cut my glance to the side, angling it slightly in Porter’s direction. “Tell Hulk here to get out of my way.”

  “You seriously want to do this here, Kate?” Porter challenged softly.

  My eyes looked around; people were starting to notice our group.

  “I’m not asking you to work for me,” the admiral said. “I have information you need to hear.”

  When I didn’t respond, he continued, “You’r
e coming with me whether you want to or not. No one needs to get hurt.”

  “Don’t you dare let him threaten you,” Frances snarled. “Come on, Kate.”

  I recognized some of Porter’s crew. They were Top Tier agents. Frances and I didn’t stand a chance.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Kate—” Frances started but I held up a hand to silence her.

  “Back to Misty Grove.”

  Asking further questions in public would be idiotic. Frances didn’t need to get caught up in agency bullshit putting her at risk of getting hauled in. The less she knew the better. I looked at her in resignation. “I’ll be fine. Take our skip back to Buckland County.”

  Ignoring Frances’s words of protest, I swiveled on my heel and headed toward the waiting vehicle.

  * * *

  It was a short drive from the motel to the heliport where a chopper was waiting to take us back to Georgia. I didn’t have the opportunity to change my clothes, but someone was kind enough to hand me one of the blankets stowed away in the emergency compartment. Porter refused to elaborate on the information he had for me until we got to Buckland County. Besides, the noise in the helicopter wasn’t ideal for conversation anyway. It also saved me from making small talk.

  The concrete structures of Edington rose ahead of us before the scenery turned into the pastoral variety that preceded Misty Grove. We flew over the one-mile stretch of town and a pit formed in my stomach. Why are we heading for Montgomery Ranch? Why not TAC? If this were agency business wouldn’t that office be better for this meeting?

  I wasn’t ready to face Colt, but I recognized his tall form leaning against his Suburban as he waited for us to land in the open field. I knew him to have three modes of transportation. His pickup, that Suburban, and his handsome Arabian, Storm. A familiar anticipation beat against my breastbone. I’d even be honest and admit my heart skipped a beat when I spied him. He had on a Stetson, pulled low. A long-sleeved, buttoned-down shirt was stretched across a broad chest and tucked into faded denim jeans he wore so well—slim at the hips, well-filled at the legs.

  Thighs and ass—body parts of Colt’s I obsessed about. Why? Because a man would need strong legs and glute muscles for wall sex.

  He was also wearing well-worn western boots.