by Kat Martin
“And Reese? He’s the middle brother, right?”
“Reese just said to let him know if I needed anything—he’s a genius at getting things done. Said to stay safe and he’d see me at Thanksgiving if not before.”
Thanksgiving. October had turned into November. The holidays were coming. Jessie glanced away, suddenly missing her family. Her brother was gone, now her dad. She had lost her mom some years back, but she still missed her. She hoped Bran knew how lucky he was to have a family who cared about him so much.
She heard the chair scrape as he rose to his feet, then his arms slipped around her. “I told you you’re invited to Thanksgiving dinner.”
She smiled a bit sadly. “I know and I appreciate the offer. I’ll be fine. It’s just...thinking about your brothers makes me miss my family.”
“Yeah, I get that. Sometimes I think about my mom and dad. I’m lucky to have Chase and Reese.”
“Yes, you are.”
Bran kissed the top of her head and let her go. Missing the warmth, she reached for her coffee mug and took a sip. “So are we going after this guy, Tank?”
“Seems like the best option at the moment.”
“According to Digger Graves, Tank is supposed to be in Denver. We can stay at my apartment if you don’t mind being a little cramped. My friend Hallie has been watering my plants, but I could really use some clean clothes.”
“Might be risky. There’s a chance they’ll be staking your place out.”
Her shoulders slumped. “It’s possible, I suppose. But I’ve only been home off and on for weeks. Hallie’s never mentioned any problems, and I can’t imagine they’re just hanging around in case I show up.”
“We’ll check it out. If it looks okay, we can at least go in long enough for you to get some clothes.”
“Great.”
“We also need more info on Mara Ramos.”
Jessie had talked to Agent Tripp, but according to him, Mara’s social security number and personal information at the time of her visit to the prison had all checked out. Since then she had moved away, and they had no way to contact her. Bran had gotten lucky with the apartment manager. Now Tabby had tracked Ramos’s plates to California.
“Maximum Security has an office in San Diego,” Bran said. “I’ll call one of the PIs, have him check, see if Ramos showed up at her old address.”
Bran’s phone signaled just then. Jessie set her empty mug on the kitchen counter. “I’ll hit the shower while you answer the call.”
He flashed her a hot look that held a trace of disappointment. Jessie laughed as she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Bran to answer his cell.
NINETEEN
The caller ID read Jailbird. Bran chuckled. Tyler Folsom. Same name as the prison in California made famous by Johnny Cash. Ty was one of the SF Airborne guys at Fort Carson that Bran had texted with photos of Petrov and Graves.
He pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, Ty. You get my text?”
“Reason I called, bro. Saw them looking for you on the news. That guy in the photo, Petrov, is dead. Sheriff is looking for you as a person of interest. Figured I’d see if you needed some help.”
“Old news, my friend. I’m square with the law, at least for now.”
“If you haven’t heard, I’m out of the army. Didn’t re-up this last time.”
“No kidding. I figured you for a lifer.”
“That was my plan, but my sister and her husband got killed in a car wreck. Their two kids were in the car. Little nephew ended up in a wheelchair. And his sister, Sarah, is only four years old. Somebody had to raise them, and I figured it ought to be me.”
“That’s rough, man.”
“In some ways it’s great. I love those kids, and their grandmother has a ton of money. She insisted we move into the guesthouse on her estate in Denver. Dude, it’s bigger than most people’s homes. She takes great care of the kids when I’m working, so everything is good.”
“You don’t miss the army?”
“Only every minute of every day.”
Bran laughed. “Listen, I might have a way you can help. I’m headed to Denver with a client. She’s going to need protection while I’m tracking down the SOB who killed Janos Petrov. Can you handle it?”
Excitement shaded Ty’s voice. “You bet I can. I’m working security, but it’s pretty routine. You want the truth, except for the kids, most of the time I’m bored out of my skull.”
“So I guess you miss jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.”
Ty chuckled. “You better believe it.”
Bran smiled. “We’ll be in late this afternoon. We’ll let you know where we’re staying once we get there.”
“Why don’t you stay here? This place is like Fort Knox. Guarded gate, the whole bit, plus it’s up in Evergreen, a little ways out of the city. Safest place your client could be.”
Bran mulled over the idea. His first concern was the safety of Ty’s kids, but at the moment Weaver’s crew had no idea where they were and no way to track them. Being somewhere outside the city would make it even harder. And with any luck, they wouldn’t be there long.
“Sounds great. I’ll phone you when we get close.” Bran ended the call and glanced toward the bedroom. The water in the shower had just started running. His pulse kicked up. He started peeling off his clothes as he headed toward the bathroom.
He was naked by the time he pulled open the door. The plastic shower curtain wasn’t an obstacle. Jessie’s big green eyes widened as he stepped in with her, his erection already rock hard.
He reminded himself to go easy, that she was still getting used to him. Reaching for the soap, he lathered his hands and began to spread thick white bubbles all over her delicate curves. Jessie moaned as he gently soaped her breasts, slid his hands down to her sex.
Sweet Jesus, he hoped the hot water didn’t run out because he didn’t plan to hurry.
* * *
The hotel wasn’t much, but the shower was pure luxury. At least when Bran Garrett was giving her his personal spa treatment.
Jessie bit back a moan. Those big hands were all over her, gently spreading soap bubbles across her rapidly heating skin. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her, exactly what to do to make her burn.
He soaped her breasts and between her legs until she was panting, the shower making her muscles loose and pliant. She wanted more, wanted all of him, wanted to feel his heavy erection inside her.
A deep, scorching kiss had her insides quivering. She barely noticed when he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Hang on to my neck,” he softly commanded, cupping her bottom to hold her in place. He propped her shoulders against the shower wall to steady her, eased himself inside, and dear God, he felt good. Big and hard and amazing. He slid even deeper, taking it slow and easy, until she started begging for more. Bran hissed in a breath and began moving faster, deeper, harder, setting off every nerve ending in her body.
Warm water ran down his magnificent chest, sluiced seductively over her breasts. He set up a rhythm that sent heat and need pouring through her, sank deliciously into her core.
When she pulled his head down for a deep, erotic kiss, a growl slipped from his throat. Tightening her legs around his waist, she took even more of him and realized he was fighting for control.
A surge of pure feminine power rose inside her. She was no longer victim, but victor, an equal partner in pleasure, as she had been from the first moment that she had been with Bran.
His pace increased as he drove into her, and the first ripples of climax struck, sweet and hot and delicious. A soft whimper escaped as her body clenched around him. Bran growled low in his throat and followed her to an earth-shattering release.
He tipped his forehead against hers and took several steadying breaths. Long seconds passed before he let
go and she slid weakly down his body.
A last lingering kiss, and he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. He pulled another towel off the rack and bundled her up in it.
“Even better than in my dreams,” he said with a grin, then took care of the condom, and headed out of the bathroom to dress for the day and give her a chance to get ready.
Jessie leaned against the bathroom sink, limp and sated. She loved sex with Bran. He was every woman’s fantasy. Handsome, strong, intelligent, protective. Great in bed.
She thought of her brother’s warning. He’s a real heartbreaker, sis. Bran Garrett’s my best friend, but he’s the last guy you ever want to get involved with.
Danny assumed she and Brandon would meet sooner or later, which they would have if Danny hadn’t gotten killed. Her brother didn’t want her getting hurt, and now that she and Bran were spending so much time together, she understood what he meant.
She needed to put things in perspective, keep tabs on her emotions. She told herself it was just sex. It didn’t really mean anything to either one of them. They’d become friends, and Bran was just trying to help her get over the hang-ups she’d told him about. She wasn’t the kind of person to have meaningless sex, but there was a first time for everything.
Or at least that’s what she was determined to believe.
One thing was certain. She didn’t want to fall in love with him.
Jessie prayed it wasn’t already too late.
* * *
They left for Evergreen that afternoon, driving instead of flying. Making the hour and a half trip by car was easier than moving the plane, then having to rent another vehicle.
Ty had given Bran directions up the winding road to his home in the hills overlooking Mount Evans. The weather was cloudy and cold, the temperature down in the thirties with a storm moving in, but the drive through the forested mountains was beautiful, a sea of pine trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.
When they arrived at the property, a uniformed guard in the gatehouse opened the tall wrought iron gates to let them pass, and they continued up the winding drive.
“Look at that,” Jessie said as the huge house came into view, modeled after a French château, with balconies and turrets and a circular drive out front. An ornate fountain sat in the middle of the drive, though the water had been turned off for the winter.
“The guesthouse is out back,” Bran said, following the road deeper onto the property. He glanced around. “Ty sure didn’t oversell the place.”
The guesthouse looked like a smaller version of the main house, two stories, with a turret on one side and an arched, ornately carved front door.
Ty, who was about six feet tall, with light brown hair and a lean, solid build, walked out as Bran drove up. He was pushing a wheelchair and flanked by a little girl with pale blond hair. The little boy in the chair had features similar enough to hint at a relationship, and the same sandy brown hair as Ty’s.
Jessie noticed one of the two garage door bays stood open. Ty motioned for them to drive inside, and Bran parked next to a silver Subaru Forester.
“Good to see you, buddy,” Ty said as Bran climbed out of the SUV.
“You, too.” Bran leaned in to bump shoulders. “Appreciate the help.”
“No problem. Let’s get you two inside where it’s warm, and I’ll introduce you to my kids.”
Knowing the story of the car accident that had killed the children’s parents, Jessie’s gaze ran over the two smiling faces and she felt a pinch in her heart.
She and Bran grabbed their bags and their jackets and went into the house through the garage. The kitchen, a chef’s fantasy, had the latest stainless appliances, white cabinets, black-and-white granite countertops, black-and-white marble floors. A white kitchen table and six ladder-back chairs sat in a turret that looked out big glass windows into the forest.
Aside from a few plush animals and a stack of games on one end of the counter, the kitchen was immaculate. Jessie figured someone probably cooked and cleaned for the family.
“Ty, this is Jessie Kegan,” Bran said. “Jessie, meet Ty Folsom, former Green Beret and one of the craziest wind dummies in the army.”
Ty grinned. “Nothing better than the rush of air in your face and the bloom of a canopy overhead. Pleased to meet you, Jessie.”
She grinned back. “You, too, Ty.”
He turned to the little dark-haired boy in the wheelchair. “This is Christian. He’s seven. Say hello to Bran and Jessie, Chris.”
“Hello,” the boy said shyly.
“And this is Sarah.” She had softly curling blond hair and blue eyes. “How old are you, sweetheart?”
Sarah held up four chubby little fingers. “Thwee.”
Ty laughed and so did Bran.
“She just turned four. She’s only starting to learn her numbers. They both had a bit of a setback, you know, with...what happened to their folks.”
“They’ve got you now, so they’ll be fine,” Bran said.
Ty seemed pleased by the words. “Yeah, they will. They had a day off from school today, some teachers’ function, but they’re back in class tomorrow.”
The children were darling. And Ty clearly loved them. Jessie had always wanted a family, but the timing never seemed right. Or more likely, it was the person who wasn’t right. She wanted kids with a husband who loved her, a man who would love their children as much as she did. Watching Ty with his kids tugged at her heart.
Ty grabbed the handle of Jessie’s carry-on. “Come on. Let’s get you two settled.”
Ty led them through a big, comfortable family room with a manteled fireplace and overstuffed brown furniture, obviously the center of the household, past a dining room furnished with a mahogany table and eight elegant chairs, and a living room decorated with gold velvet furniture and French antiques.
“Two bedrooms downstairs and a bathroom,” Ty said. “Me and the kids are upstairs. This wing’s all yours.”
“Great. This is perfect,” Bran said.
Ty’s gaze went from Bran to Jessie and back. Maybe it was how close he was standing, or a look that had passed between them. “She’ll be safe with me,” Ty said to him.
Bran nodded. “I know.”
He was leaving her with his friend, going after Tank by himself. They had argued about it on the drive down, but once Bran had talked to Ty and felt sure she’d be safe, there was no convincing him to take her along.
“I can’t deal with this guy and worry about you at the same time. Tank’s a killer. I need to find him and figure a way to take him down. I can’t do that if you’re with me.”
Since she was pretty sure he was right and she’d be putting him in even graver danger, she had conceded. Not that he’d ever intended to give her a choice.
Ty left the two of them to get settled in, Jessie in one bedroom, Bran in the other. She glanced at the queen-size four-poster bed beneath a snowy eyelet comforter and mound of matching white pillows and thought how much she would miss Bran’s warm body curled around her that night.
She unpacked her toiletries in the adjoining bathroom and walked back into the bedroom just as Brandon opened the door. He looked different, harder, colder, a man on a mission. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, which made him look even tougher. Dressed in jeans and combat boots, he wore a faded, slightly tattered olive-drab jacket with military patches on the shoulders.
“Time to go,” he said. “I don’t know how long it will take me to find this guy, but I’ll text and let you know what’s going on. If trouble comes, do what Ty tells you. He knows what he’s doing.”
She swallowed and nodded, suddenly afraid for him. “I will, I promise.” She looked up at him. “Please be careful.”
Eyes as blue as the Colorado sky locked on her face. Bran hauled her into his arms a
nd kissed her, quick and hard. “I’ll be back,” he said a little gruffly, and her gaze followed him all the way out of the room.
He’s a soldier, she reminded herself. Just like Danny. Just like Dad. She had never even dated a military man. She didn’t want to fall for one, didn’t want that kind of life.
Still, she couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to him. As she walked out of the room, Jessie said a silent prayer that he would be safe.
TWENTY
It took Bran the rest of the day to track the A-BOYZ motorcycle club to the town of Aurora on the outskirts of Denver. The first call he’d made had been to Hawk Maddox at The Max. Hawk was one of the best bounty hunters in the country, one of the most connected guys he knew.
Hawk had made some calls and phoned him back. Tank’s full name was Wayne Conrad Coffman. He was ex-army, born in Denver, joined the military right out of high school, dishonorably discharged, gone from the city for years, only recently returned.
By early evening, Bran had the info he needed. He didn’t have Tank, but Hawk’s informant had given him a place to start looking.
It was ten o’clock by the time he pulled into the dirt parking lot in front of Mack’s Roadhouse out on East Colfax Avenue. The lot was about half full, a few battered, mud-splattered pickups, a row of customized bikes, mostly Harleys, a couple of BMWs, and a few crotch rockets.
Bran turned the SUV around and backed into a place in the darkness at the edge of the lot. Always better to be ready if you needed to leave in a hurry. He could hear a band playing country rock a little off-key as he strode toward the entrance.
Two guitarists and a drummer pounded away on a stage on one side of the room. Old plank floors, motorcycle parts on the walls, photos of scantily clad women in various poses and bare-chested bikers in leathers. A shuffleboard clacked in the background.
Bran made his way to the long bar and sat down on one of the black vinyl stools. The bartender, a sleazy looking dude whose shoulder-length brown hair needed washing, mopped the counter with a dirty rag.