Hard Night (11th Hour #3)

by Jackie Ashenden

  But only if Kellan himself were dead. And since he wasn’t, the only person who was going to be protecting Sabrina was him.

  “No,” he said flatly. “Not happening.”

  There was amusement in Jack’s green eyes, which was annoying. Especially seeing as the guy hadn’t had a sense of humor at all when he’d first joined the team. That seemed to have changed since he’d hooked up with Callie, the pretty socialite he’d been guarding for an 11th Hour job and had subsequently gotten engaged to.

  But it turned out that Kellan didn’t have a sense of humor either, at least not when it came to Sabrina’s safety.

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Sabrina’s voice was tight.

  He turned sharply to meet her green-gold eyes, glowing with anger. “What?” he demanded. “You don’t think your safety’s important?”

  “I like my safety, believe me. What I do not like is you being a territorial asshole about it.”

  He raised a brow in surprise. “I’m not being territorial. I just don’t want—”

  Isiah cleared his throat loudly. “Perhaps you two need a moment to discuss this?”

  Kellan’s attention snapped round to the older man. “No, I don’t,” he began at the same time as Sabrina said, “Yes, that’s a great idea.”

  There was a silence.

  “Seems like Sabrina has a different opinion,” Isiah pointed out. Needlessly.

  Fuck.

  Kellan turned back to her, trying not to let his anger show. Her familiar freckled face with its small upturned nose was set in lines of determination and there was a mulish slant to her chin.

  She almost never disagreed with him. Almost never got angry with him either, at least not like this. It was as if a friendly kitten had suddenly grown razor sharp teeth and bitten him.

  “Bree,” he said. “What’s the problem? You can’t possibly—”

  Sabrina suddenly pushed herself off the couch, not giving him a chance to finish, presenting him with her long, slender back and the bouncy ponytail of dark curls that ran down the length of it. “Tell Mr. Night I’m in,” she said to Faith.

  Then before anyone could say another word, she strode to the door and walked through it.

  * * *

  Sabrina headed straight down the corridors that led from the 11th Hour HQ to Mac’s, the bar that fronted the place. The bar was kept deliberately seedy to discourage too many patrons: cracked linoleum and vinyl seats, crappy TV above the bar, the scent of cigarette smoke from the decades before the first smoking laws imbued into the very walls.

  When she’d left her job at an Internet start-up in Silicon Valley in order to join the 11th Hour, she’d taken on some of the Mac’s bar work when there was some downtime, and she’d found she’d liked it. Pouring drinks and listening to sob stories from the few patrons that Mac’s did have didn’t require any brain power and neither did wiping down the bar and messing around with the bottles stacked on shelves behind it. She found both tasks soothing.

  But she didn’t find it particularly soothing today as she slammed the door that led to HQ behind her and stormed into the empty bar.

  Not that she would have found anything particularly soothing if she was honest with herself.

  Her hand was shaking as she reached for the least crappy of the bourbons, pulling the bottle off the shelf and grabbing a glass, pouring herself a hefty measure. Then she picked the glass up and downed it.

  Drinking was another thing she didn’t do very often, but shit, after what had happened in there, needs must and all of that.

  She poured herself a second glass, then put her hands flat on the bar and stared down at the bar top, taking a few calming breaths.

  Fear and shock sat like small hard stones in her gut, the rush of alcohol doing nothing to dissolve them, along with a flickering anger that didn’t help either.

  The moment Faith had gotten her to hack into Phillip Blake’s computer a day or so earlier, Sabrina had felt that fear touch her, and it had only gotten worse now Faith had made the latest mission clear. And the more Kellan had protested, the angrier and more afraid she’d gotten.

  It wasn’t fair to get angry at him, not when she knew how much of a shock finding out about this latest job had been to him. He idolized his father—always had—so it was no surprise that he hadn’t reacted well to the news.

  And that was part of the problem.

  His father wasn’t the man Kellan thought he was, as Sabrina had good reason to know. And if there was one thing she didn’t want, it was Kellan finding that out.

  He’d already been through so much after the helicopter crash that had effectively ended the military career that had given him his identity. Physical pain from the burns he’d suffered. Emotional pain from the medics’ decision that he wasn’t fit to resume military service and wouldn’t ever be.

  Now this.

  She stared down at the amber liquid in the glass, pain twisting inside her. Then there was him getting all territorial on her. It made her think things she shouldn’t be thinking, feel things she shouldn’t be feeling.

  Friends. That’s all they were. Just friends.

  She’d been telling herself that for years, but it never made any difference to her poor stupid heart. Her poor stupid heart had been in love with him since she was ten years old.

  But that was beside the point.

  The point was the potential of this mission to uncover a lot of skeletons in Phillip Blake’s closet. Skeletons that Sabrina had been trying to keep secret from Kellan for years. She didn’t know for certain that Kellan’s father was involved in the things that Faith said he was, but she knew he wasn’t the fine, upstanding former general that everyone thought so well of either.

  She also knew that Kellan couldn’t find out, not ever. He was a man who protected people, but someone had to protect him, and she’d decided years ago that someone was going to be her. Because she’d do anything for him.

  Anything at all.

  Besides, she’d made a promise to Charlotte, Kellan’s mother, who’d been a mother to Sabrina too, after she’d lost her own and her father had left. A promise that she wouldn’t tell Kellan a thing.

  Charlotte had been very clear to Sabrina how important it was that Kellan know nothing about the cracks in Phillip’s smooth facade. Family. That’s what it was about, and Sabrina, having lost her own, could only agree. Her own father had once been the Blakes’ live-in gardener and when he’d simply left one day and never come home, Charlotte had taken her in and made her part of the Blake family.

  Well, maybe not quite part of the family. Charlotte was always very careful to make sure that Sabrina knew she wasn’t actually a Blake. Her purpose was to be Charlotte’s confidant without all the “messy” stuff around being her actual child, which was how Charlotte herself had put it.

  Anyway, Sabrina had always been grateful to the Blakes for their kindness to her and to Charlotte in particular for making her feel less like an abandoned stray and more like a valuable family member.

  God, Charlotte would be appalled if she knew what was happening now—and she’d certainly be expecting Sabrina to make sure Kellan had no part of it.

  Except . . . Sabrina had no idea how to do that, not if this mission was driven by Jacob Night. None of the team had met him or knew anything about him, only that he had the money and connections to somehow run an ex-military team—well, except for her, as she wasn’t ex-military—who took on “special projects” that were just on the right side of legal.

  Soon after she’d joined the team herself, she’d looked for traces of him online—and she, if anyone, knew where and how to look—but she’d found nothing. Weird. Because everyone left some digital trace, everyone.

  But not Jacob Night.

  A worry.

  She reached out for the glass again, picking it up as the door behind her banged open.

  “Bree?” Kellan’s voice, deep and with that husky edge that never failed to raise a shiver across her skin, came fro
m behind her. “What’s up? Why did you walk out?”

  So he’d followed her. Well, that wasn’t a surprise. She was going to have to get her game face on though, because although she didn’t have to explain her own shock, she couldn’t show him her fear. Especially given how protective he was and what a terrible liar she was.

  Then again, she’d been successfully hiding things from him for years, so there was no reason to think she’d fail now.

  She took another steadying sip of the bourbon, then turned around.

  Kellan was standing just outside the door that led from the bar to HQ, filling the doorway with six foot three of long, rangy muscle. He was built like a quarterback and looked like a Hollywood movie star, massive shoulders, high cheekbones, and a perfect jawline. Dirty blond hair and stunning ice-blue eyes. He was in faded blue denim that clung to his lean hips and a fitted T-shirt that outlined his broad chest, powerful biceps, and flat stomach to perfection. Today’s T-shirt was a dark navy that made his eyes look even bluer.

  He made her heart beat way too fast whenever she looked at him, and no matter how many years passed or how many other guys she dated, it had never gotten the message that he wasn’t for her and never had been.

  They were best friends and nothing more.

  Sabrina leaned back against the bar, cradling her bourbon. “Why do you think I walked out? It’s a hell of a shock. And I . . . didn’t appreciate being told what to do.”

  He snorted, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m not apologizing for that. Not that it matters anyway since the mission isn’t happening.” The expression on his face was guarded, but she knew him. She could see the shock still resounding in his eyes.

  Her chest felt tight and she put her bourbon down, her first instinct to go give him a hug. It was a measure of her own shock that she almost did, but at the last minute held herself back. He wasn’t physically demonstrative—none of the Blakes were—so she tried to keep her own need to give physical comfort to a minimum.

  “I’m sorry, Kel.” She folded her arms instead. “The whole thing is crazy.”

  “Damn right it’s crazy.” He glanced away, his jaw hardening, anger written in the tense line of his shoulders. “I don’t know where Night got his information from, but it’s wrong. Dad’s got nothing to do with this.”

  For a second Sabrina debated about what to say. She wanted Kellan to know she was on his side, but her lying skills were crap and if he picked up on the fact that she was hiding something from him, he’d soon get it out of her; he could be relentless when there was something he wanted to know.

  “Maybe he has,” she said carefully. “Perhaps you should speak to Night personally?”

  Kellan’s sharp blue gaze came to hers. “Are you really shocked about this?”

  She froze, feeling like a rabbit in the headlights. “Sure I am. What makes you say that?”

  “You just seem . . . unsurprised.”

  Shit. Had he picked up on something in her voice?

  Sabrina shifted against the bar, trying not to give herself away any more than she already had. “I guess you could say I’m a little . . . stunned.” And she had been, though not quite in the same way as Kellan.

  His gaze narrowed at her for a second, then he let out a breath and came over to where she stood, grabbing a glass for himself and reaching for the bottle of bourbon that stood on the bar. “Yeah, Christ. It’s a bit un-fucking-believable.”

  Okay, perhaps she hadn’t given herself away too badly. Thank God.

  Hoping her relief wasn’t too obvious, Sabrina picked her own glass back up again as he poured himself a drink.

  “You’re right though.” Kellan turned around and leaned back against the bar beside her, mirroring her stance, lifting his glass and taking a hefty swallow. “I should talk to Night. Figure out where the hell he got his intel about this file from.”

  “Good plan.” She kept her voice neutral. “He and Faith seem pretty ready to move on it.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not going to happen.” The words were hard, certain, and not a little grim.

  Kellan was generally laid-back, his good looks and easy smile masking a nature that was pure, sharp-edged steel. It was that steel that had driven him into two different branches of the military, pushing him to become the best of the best. She could hear that steel now. Whoever Jacob Night was, Kellan would give him a hell of a run for his money.

  With any luck, Night might even change his mind about the mission and decide to leave well enough alone.

  Except she had a horrible feeling that wasn’t going to happen, no matter how stubborn or forceful Kellan was. Night was a law unto himself and he was powerful. Then again, when Kellan wanted something, he tended to go out and get it.

  Pity that’s not you.

  Sabrina took another swallow of her bourbon, the rough alcohol sitting in her gut, trying to ignore the thought. God, she hoped this wasn’t building up into another one of her moods.

  She had them periodically, where all she could think about was how badly she wanted him and how much it hurt that she didn’t have him. They didn’t last long, but when they did, she usually got out her dating app to find herself a hookup.

  Maybe it was time to find a guy again, one who didn’t have blond hair or blue eyes. A nice guy who was up for a couple of dates and a few pleasant hours in bed. Though to be honest, she’d never found sex all that fulfilling, no matter who it was with. She could give herself a better orgasm with her own imagination and her vibrator.

  “Bree? Are you even listening?”

  Feeling him staring at her, heat crept into her cheeks. He was very close and she was very conscious of the warmth of his long, hard body next to hers. Of the familiarity of his aftershave, a fresh scent that reminded her of the sea, or of rain.

  Oh hell. She was definitely going into another of her I-want-Kellan moods.

  “What? Sorry, no, I wasn’t.” She drained her second glass of bourbon and put it down on the counter. “I still . . . can’t believe it, I guess.”

  Kellan had three smiles: one for charming people generally, one for charming women he wanted to sleep with, and one for her. The one he kept for her was warm and protective and tender, and she loved it as much as she hated it. And she hated it because it was very like the one he kept for his mother.

  His long, beautiful mouth quirked in that smile now. “Hey, don’t worry, okay? I’m sure it’s only that Night got some bad intel from somewhere, and it’s all a mistake.” The smile became a little sharp, though the look in his eyes remained reassuring. “This mission isn’t going ahead. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He always thought he was protecting her.

  He had no idea it was the other way around.

  Sabrina gave him a smile in return, because what else could she do? “Sure,” she said, ignoring the cold foreboding that curled its way through the warmth of the alcohol. “Of course you will.”

  Jackie Ashenden lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids, one dog and one cat. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their stroppy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, messing around with social media, or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. Jackie also writes the Tate Brothers romance series for St. Martin’s Press. Visit her at jackieashenden.com.

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