by Em Petrova
Looking at his face, she found him one hundred percent dead serious.
“I am,” he ground out. “But you’re obviously not.”
“I…don’t know what I feel. We’ve only been doing this”—she waved her hand through the air to indicate them sharing a space—“for a few weeks, and we were parted for several days.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”
She huffed out a breath. “I never pictured myself being with someone, Alix. I never expected to find anybody who wants to be with me, if I’m honest.”
“Why the hell not?” He sounded affronted, as if the insult aimed at herself pissed him off. The tendon in the crease of his jaw pulsed.
“Because of my job. It isn’t only a job—it’s a lifestyle. I’m out of the house more than I’m here. I won’t come home to dinner with my man. I might not ever come home!”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully fatalistic, aren’t you? You should have more confidence in your abilities.”
“It’s just that my father died doing this job, and he was fairly young. He was the most skilled handler I ever knew, and I’m not half of what he was.”
“Let me get this straight. You may or may not have feelings for me, but you won’t say because you don’t think you’ll live long enough to have a relationship. Not that you ever expected to have one at all. Have I summarized that?”
Fuck. The frustration and hurt echoing in his tone knifed through her. She stepped up to him and rested a palm on his muscled chest. “Alix.”
“Maybe there’s something else going on,” he said with a rough edge.
She shook her head. “What else could be going on?”
“You were gone twelve days with Cason.”
Her jaw dropped. “You think I have something with Hunt? I told you we’re colleagues and friends, nothing more.”
“You shared sleeping quarters with him.”
A squeak of surprise left her. “How did you know about that?”
“I can find out everything, remember?”
“Alix, nothing happened with Hunt! I’m not refusing your offer of a relationship because I want somebody else.” Horrid tears loomed too close to the surface for her peace of mind. Above all, she hated to break down and show her weakness.
He leveled a stare at her. “But you are refusing me.”
She died inside. All lights flickered out, leaving her a hollow, black shell. “Why do we need to define anything? We haven’t been seeing each other very long.”
“You already said that you don’t want a relationship. You think you have to go it alone until the day that you stop existing. Well, I can’t live that way. I believed I could, and then I met you. Now I can’t go back to fucking a woman and walking out the door as if I never gave a damn.”
In long strides, he crossed the living room to the front door. She gaped after him and then hurried to catch him. “Alix, stop! Let’s talk this through.”
“We’ve both said enough, Vivian.” He reached for the door handle.
“You can’t leave!”
Face icy, he shot her a look over his shoulder. “At least I didn’t fuck you before I left.”
The door slamming only sounded in her mind for a second, but it lasted much longer in her soul, reverberating on and on until she broke down. Tears and snot ran down her face. Astute as ever, Zack got up and came over to sit by her hand. She rested her fingers on his furry head and tried to make sense of what happened between her and Alix.
Either she’d made the worst mistake of her life…or saved them both a ton of heartbreak down the road.
Now, she wished she’d been brave enough to take another path…instead she was left alone with Alix’s final hurtful words.
“Broshears. Broshears!”
He jerked at Penn’s voice.
“Where the hell’s your head at, man? I called your name six times.”
He pointed to the shooting course the team had set up behind the barracks to keep their skills honed. “Just thinkin’ about today’s shoot.”
Penn eyed him. He didn’t buy it.
He had no desire to be singled out for his mood. Was he in a constant state of come-near-me-and-I’ll-rip-your-head-off? Yes. But he refused to talk about it, think about it or find a way to deal with it.
Burying it deep down inside sounded like the best answer to him.
Turning to the shooting range, he lifted his sniper rifle, took aim and hit the first target square in the chest. He put another bullet between the eyes for good measure and swung to the next.
Penn stood aside watching him in action. He swapped weapons for a Glock 19, his preferred concealable handgun. He rushed in closer to the next two targets, placing precise, deadly shots. Firing bullets didn’t do much to relieve his frustration, and he gritted his teeth as he returned to his station.
He picked up a knife and threw it. It whirled end over end, whizzing through the air toward the target. It hit true, the blade point sank into the throat.
“Nice. You about done?” Penn drawled out, folding his arms.
“No.” Broshears grabbed an automatic rifle and sprayed ammo across the shooting course. He paused.
“Now?” Penn asked.
He unloaded again, emptying a shit-ton of ammunition. When he ran out, he lowered the weapon and set it on the shooting bench. Penn watched as he picked up a grenade launcher and volleyed a few into the field a few hundred yards away. Dirt and rock fountained into the air.
Penn cleared his throat.
Without looking at his captain, Broshears set aside the grenade launcher and started walking away.
“Special Operative Broshears!”
He stopped and pivoted to look at his superior officer. “Yes?”
“Your weapon skills pass the test.”
He saluted his captain and continued on to his quarters. When he opened the door, it hit the outer wall. He grabbed it and slammed it shut behind him. Bad moods never lasted long for him, but he was on day four. Worst was realizing that he was acting like a dick to everyone surrounding him simply because of a little rejection.
Okay, a lot of rejection. He was fucking gearing up to spend his life with Vivian—propose to her. If she’d given him the slightest glimmer of interest, he would already have a ring purchased.
But he wasn’t even asking her to commit to being man and wife. All he wanted was her to admit she had feelings for him, and the woman shut down.
He barely dropped to his bunk when the door burst open again. He expected to see Penn barging into his personal quarters, but instead it was Lipton. Followed by Gasper. With Hepburn on his heels. The three men made his space feel cramped.
He got to his feet. “We get called out? I didn’t hear anything.”
“No. We watched you shoot up the range and then stomp in here like a teen girl with boys on her mind.” Lipton cocked a brow at him.
“Jesus, Lip, you must want a fat lip this afternoon.”
“You know I’m right. What’s up your ass, Broshears? Is this about Valentine?”
“Everyone needs to mind their own damn business.”
“When you’ve got an attitude that affects the team, it is our business,” Gasper said with a hard edge.
“Until my attitude gets somebody hurt or killed, then I’m just another asshole on the team nobody wants to be around.” He grabbed a bottled water off his nightstand and downed it.
Hepburn scrubbed his knuckles over his jaw, contemplating Broshears. “Sometimes shit doesn’t work out the way we hope. We’re here to get you back on track.”
He stared at the tall special operative. “How do you plan on doing that?”
Hepburn reached into a pocket and withdrew a deck of cards.
“Poker?” Broshears wouldn’t admit to cracking a smile, but his lips might have twitched a little.
“Damn straight. So get outta your funk and outta this box you call your quarters and join us in the barracks.” Without another word, Lipton walked
out. The others followed him, leaving Broshears wondering when he’d ever feel normal again. Vivian had fucked him up—or loving her had. He didn’t know if opening his heart made him into a better man or just an asshole.
“Broshears!” Hepburn bellowed from outside. “Get yer ass out here!”
Shaking his head, he chuckled. Whatever happened with Vivian was anyone’s guess. But by the end of the night, his buddies’ wallets would be lighter and his fatter. He might not have won the girl, but he could kick ass at poker.
Chapter Eleven
“Thanks for keeping Zack for a few days.” Vivian turned to Hunt.
“Of course. Anytime. He gets along with Aries really well.”
“When you exercise him, give him a few minutes to warm up. We’re trying to stretch those tendons in his hip slowly.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes at his mocking tone and handed him Zack’s bag containing his leash, harness, food bowls and enough food for a few days while she was away.
He accepted the bag and set it on the floor of the entryway where they stood. Aries and Zack were already in the living room romping. A rumble of items falling had Hunt glancing into the space behind him. “That would be the toy basket.”
She smiled. “Sounds as if Zack will enjoy his vacation and playmate. Seriously, thanks again, Hunt.”
When he looked at her, she felt a flutter of dread. Please don’t ask me why I’m leaving town for a few days.
“Vivian—”
“If you need anything, just call my cell. I’ll have service at the cabin.”
“Will you be…vacationing alone?” He obviously took care in choosing his words.
She lowered her attention to the floor. A squeaky toy bounced into the foyer, and Aries bounded after it, grabbed it in his jaws and raced to the living room.
She spared a smile for the dog but sobered when she responded to Hunt. “Yes, I’ll be alone.”
“You’ll be okay?” Concern creased his brows.
“Yes.”
He didn’t ask why she wouldn’t be spending her trip with Alix, and for that she was grateful. Reaching out, she took his hand and gripped his fingers. “You’re a really good friend, Hunt. Thank you.”
To her shock, he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. There was no thrill of heat or surge of desire—only a warm bond of friendship.
He dropped her hand and stepped back. “See you soon. And if you need anything, call me. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” she mocked his earlier yes, ma’am.
They traded a grin, and then she went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Before he could react, she rushed out the door to her waiting truck loaded with a small weekend bag and everything she’d need for a cabin getaway.
She jumped behind the wheel and sped away from Hunt’s place toward the interstate. Her father’s old fishing cabin, on one of the many lakes dotting Alaska, had stood empty since his death.
Sure, she took a yearly pilgrimage there each summer to check the roof for leaks and to remove any nests of critters that might have inhabited it. But she couldn’t bring herself to stay there. The good memories were very thick on that plot of hallowed ground, and she wouldn’t mar them with the sad ones of her missing him.
And she did miss him, especially right this moment. Having no one left to talk to about her recent heartache—or whether or not she’d made the worst mistake of her life—infused her with a heavy ache she hadn’t known since those first months following her father’s death.
As she drove, she drank in the landscape. The mountain range’s jagged peaks broke the blue sky. A thick cloud wreathed one peak like a halo, and the snow melted on the sunny slope of the mountain.
She’d been up there many times, for recreation but mostly for work reasons, searching for lost people or criminals who fled from authorities. Now, she only considered the view as a beautiful treasure to kick off her vacation.
Needing a break from her overcrowded brain filled with questions about Alix, she’d planned a three-day weekend at the cabin. In the passenger seat sat her bag along with a box of food supplies to get her through without hitting up the country store near the cabin.
She hoped she wouldn’t see a single soul while away. What she craved was some peace.
From her thoughts of Alix.
From wishing he’d contact her, and yet dreading him doing exactly that.
She’d hurt him—herself too—and she couldn’t see a path back to him at this point. With luck, the getaway would provide an opportunity to get her feet under her again so she could continue on with her life.
What had he been doing since they parted on bad terms? More than once, she’d woken in the night thinking she heard his voice, only to realize it echoed in her dreams. And more than once, she’d awakened sweaty and filled with need, an ache between her legs Alix alone could satisfy.
It was over. Why did she continue to torment herself with thoughts of the man?
The two-hour drive didn’t provide enough escape from Alix. She hoped once she reached the cabin, the beautiful lake views and coziness of the place would do it.
As she rambled slowly through the small town on the lake’s edge where they did all the shopping for the summer fishing trips in her youth, she fondly remembered the ice cream treats her daddy bought her and how sometimes Uncle Billy and Aunt Geri would join them for a weekend.
Years of memories—all good ones, filled with warmth and feelings of family. They’d even spent a Christmas at the cabin, and Uncle Billy and her father had dragged in a tree much too big for the space, and she and Geri had laughed and laughed at the pair trying to stand it upright.
She slowed her truck and turned into the rutted old driveway leading to the cabin. After cutting the engine, she sat staring at the wood siding and peaked roof. In the yard, they’d hold bonfires, and the wooden Adirondack chairs would be tucked up in the shed, safe from the elements.
Except, one of the chairs was out. It sat by the fire ring.
Her heart gave a hard jog in her chest.
Someone was squatting at her father’s cabin.
Leaning across the passenger’s seat, she popped open the latch of the glove compartment and withdrew her handgun. With it tucked into the waist of her jeans and within reach if quickly needed, she approached the cabin.
It appeared vacant, the windows dark. Hands shaking, she tried the door and found it locked.
Her stomach knotted as she took out the key and slid it into the lock. Somewhere nearby, a large bird shrieked, the sound like an omen.
No, her mind was playing tricks on her. If someone had dragged out a chair and sat by a fire at some point during the long months when nobody came to the cabin, they’d be long gone by now. The door hadn’t been forced open, and she possessed the only key.
When she turned the handle and pushed the door inward, she smelled it—the scent of fried eggs.
Using her training, she kicked the door inward and yanked out her weapon. The small cabin had few walls, and she got a clear view of the kitchen, where a man stood at the old cast iron stove her father had dragged up here all those years ago.
He whipped to face her, shock on his face, which appeared much older and heavily lined from his time in prison.
“Billy.” Her voice grated on the syllables of his name. “What are you doing here?”
And how did you escape?
Slowly, he set down the spatula he held over the frying pan. He took a step toward her, a smile on his face and arms outstretched.
Her heart gave a wild beat out of rhythm to the rest of them.
“Vivian… God, you’re a sight for these old eyes.” He glanced at the gun in her hand, which she hadn’t yet lowered, but continued toward her as if to pull her into his embrace.
Seeing his familiar face and the smile he wore hurtled her through to better days with him and her father and Geri, the four of them fishing and cooking up their fresh catches.
Bu
t he shouldn’t be here—he should be behind bars in the new prison he’d been transferred to with higher security.
“Billy.” Her voice came out choked.
He stood a foot before her, blue eyes burning down at her. The smile fell from his lips, and he grabbed her, whirling her around and disarming her in the same move.
She gasped as the cold steel of the weapon pressed into her temple. “Stop!” she cried.
“I’m sorry, but you weren’t supposed to see me, little girl. Now I have no choice.” His voice wasn’t that of the surrogate uncle she loved but one stripped by madness.
“No choice but to do what?” She tried to keep her tone even and her knees from buckling.
“No choice but to take you hostage so you can’t run to the authorities. You made a mistake in coming here, Vivian—a big mistake.”
The blare of Penn’s phone alarm preceded his bark of command. “Time to scramble! We’ve got a prison escapee—a known terrorist—on the loose. You’ve got five minutes, Xtreme Ops!”
Broshears’ heart stopped at escapee and started again with a jerk. He ran for his locker and ripped out his bulletproof gear. “Escapee’s name?”
“Christopher.”
His blood ran cold. “He escaped when they moved him?”
“Seems so. Last seen running into the woods.” Penn already had his vest in place and went for his next article of clothing.
“Fuck! Do they have dogs on him?” He thought of Vivian, tasked with chasing after a man she once thought of as family—maybe still did. But of course the unit wouldn’t force her to participate in a manhunt for Christopher when she had ties to him.
Except the unit didn’t know that, did they? Hunt might but nobody else.
Broshears grabbed his weapons and slammed the locker shut, finished first of the team. He strode from the barracks to the waiting SUV and claimed shotgun where Lipton usually sat.
Seconds later, all doors opened and Penn threw him a look as he started the engine. “Since you’re taking interest in this, you’re in charge of planning.” He tossed his phone to Broshears, and he caught it midair.
As they sped toward the place where Christopher was last spotted, Broshears spouted all the details including the hour Christopher was last seen and his proposed path.