“Oh. Okay,” Robin replied, as if she’d do anything just because he asked. “But just one minute. Then come right back.”
“We may need a little more time than that.”
Robin crossed her arms over her chest and huffed like the little tyrant Bree knew she could be. “Well, okay, but I want you to tuck me into bed tonight. Just you. Okay?”
“You bet, sweetheart.” The oddest light cracked Kruze’s manly face when he passed her off to her grandpa. Bree had to look away. Love at first sight was real. She was witnessing it in action.
Kruze stretched a hand for Bree. “Walk with me?” he asked, an adorably cute, boyish smile on that manly, clean-shaven face. Now she knew where Robin got her charm. This guy was full of it.
“Sure,” Bree replied as she clasped his fingers. “Let’s go sit on the front porch.”
She intended to lead the way, but Kruze didn’t let her step around him, and he seemed to know right where to go. Not like her parents’ massive front door was hard to miss, but he was doing it again. Taking command. Leading her. Bree’s thin hold on common sense weakened with every step. He did it again when he closed the door and gestured for her to sit beside him on the steps, instead of in the comfy, homemade rocking chairs her mother had picked up at one of the local antique shops.
Bree settled to the top step. Darned if he didn’t float his leather jacket over her shoulders. Needing space just to think clearly, she edged away from him. Just that fast, Kruze reached one long muscled arm around her and pulled her back into his side and under his arm.
“Don’t start on me,” she warned him, even as the masculine scent of his body lifted up from all the folds of that delicious leather. Her traitorous nostrils flared wider to catch every last pheromone.
He pressed a breathy kiss in her hair. “Not starting anything, Bree. Thanks for letting me meet Robin. I don’t deserve it, but I can’t tell you what she means to me. She’s something else.”
Bree swallowed hard, needing more than just that tiny kiss. She’d held onto her hurt and anger for so long, it felt disloyal sitting there chatting about her illegitimate baby girl with that baby’s absentee father. Weirdly, jealousy had lifted its head and poked one long, crooked finger at her. Kruze had been out of Robin’s life for years. Bree wasn’t sure she wanted him in it now. He’d done nothing to earn that little girl’s love. For heaven’s sake, all he’d done was just—JUST—show up. He’d missed every last one of Robin’s smelly diapers, her middle of the night earache, the single nightmare she’d had when she’d watched Ghostbusters, of all things. Bree had her father to blame for that. Yet Robin had readily and eagerly accepted Kruze—as if he hung the moon in the sky. She already loved her father. How could Bree hurt her?
Bree shifted her butt on the cold concrete step, not sure why she was edgy. She didn’t have to earn Robin’s love. That was a given. She’d die for that sweetheart. Every good mother knew that.
Kruze rubbed his palm up her arm. “Sorry, sugar. I know I’ve put you in an awkward position tonight, but…” His chest swelled with a deep breath.
“Don’t,” she told him before he launched into reasons for being anything more than an on-again/off-again visitor in Robin’s life. “I don’t need anything from you, and I’m not asking. Don’t think for one moment that’s what this visit is about. It isn’t. I’ve done fine financially without you these past years.” Not emotionally, but you don’t get to just show up and act like you never left.
“Yes, you have. I can see that. You’ve done great, and your parents adore Robin. I’m proud of you. So proud. You remind me of my mom. She had a deadbeat husband, too.”
“You’re not a deadbeat husband. You’re… you’re…” Bree choked. She had no idea what category Kruze fell into. She’d honestly thought she’d loved him in Paris, but it had hurt so much when he’d left without a word. Why was she defending him now?
“Yes, I’m the worst kind of deadbeat dad. I can’t deny it,” he said quietly. “I failed you, and I failed my one and only child. I should’ve been with you when you were pregnant and especially when you delivered our daughter. Hell, I should’ve been there for you since Paris. But I wasn’t, and I can’t go back in time and change what happened. I’ve already told you I’m an ass, and I am. But I’d like the chance to make up for the time I’ve wasted. Berfende is in the country.”
“Wait. What?” Talk about changing the subject.
Kruze leaned into her surprised face. “You heard me. I’ve been talking with my boss.”
“Who is—?”
“Senator McQueen Sullivan from Texas. He’s got solid intel that Berfende entered through JFK. The FBI lost track of him, but—”
“But Queens, New York? That’s so close.” Bree shivered. She’d never met Berfende, but Josephus was bad enough. Berfende had to be worse.
“My thoughts exactly. This is no coincidence. Sullivan and I both believe Berfende intends to reacquire you. He’s a terrorist, plain and simple. He wants to make a point.”
Gorge lifted up her throat at the point Berfende had already made by demanding Josephus deliver her to him like a side of meat. “What’ll I do? Robin… Mom and Dad….” She turned into Kruze’s arms, panic roaring in her head. “I can’t go through that again. What if he hurts my family this time? Like they killed Mehmet?”
“Shush, sugar, shush.” Kruze tugged her under his arm and scrubbed a hand up under her ponytail to the back of her neck. It felt good being close to him again. To hear that strong heart beating under his ribs. To feel his warm hand on her bare skin. “I know you’re scared, but no one’s going to hurt you or your family, least of all that rat bastard. We do need to leave, though, tonight. Sullivan has safe houses all over the country. We’ll protect your entire family. I’ll need help telling your parents and our little girl, though.”
Bree pulled back from the man she didn’t really know. “Are you telling me the truth or is this your attempt to—?” Get me to make love with you again?
Kruze cocked his head as if what she’d insinuated hit home. His lips thinned and his beautiful, sexy eyes darkened. His nostrils flared. “This is my attempt to save your family’s lives, Brianna Banks. That’s all. Do you honestly think I’d lie?”
“No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean that. I’m just…” Out of my mind. Bree collapsed against his side. “I had no right. I’m sorry I said that. It’s just… I thought once I was home, I’d be safe. Why… How does he know where I live? Oh, my Lord! That telemarketer!”
“What telemarketer?”
“A man. Yesterday. He called on Mom’s house phone. He sounded like he was from Pakistan or India or…” Bree couldn’t breathe, her heart was pounding so hard.
“What’d he say?”
“He… he asked if I was Brianna Banks, the reporter.” Bree fell back into that despicable hole again. She was trapped. There was no way out. Hysteria took over. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore! First, Turkey, and now you’re telling me that nightmare isn’t over. That I need to go inside and p-p-ack a bag for me and my baby girl, and I need my medicine, and… My God, Berfende is really here? In America? That must’ve been him. It had to be. He tracked me down, then called to make sure he found me. And I answered! I hate that stupid, old phone!”
Kruze crushed her to him before the scream in her heart climbed out of her throat. Bree was out of control, her panic aiming straight for hysteria.
“Be still. Please, just shush,” he murmured, his lips warm and gentle on her cheek, his voice so damned low and sweet. “You’re upset, and you’re having a panic attack. Stop. You’re only hurting yourself. Please stop.”
“I can’t! I’m not upset, I’m s-s-scared, you idiot!” she cried, her poor heart about to explode.
“I know, but honest, this time Berfende’s on my turf, in my country. He’s a pompous ass, and he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Trust me. I’ve got this handled. Sullivan and I won’t let an
ything happen to you and Robin, or to your folks. Let’s get you and your family packed and out of here. That will help. You’ll feel better once they’re in a safe house. They’ll have to hurry. One suitcase a piece. Let’s put Robin to bed first, then talk to your parents.”
Bree nodded even as she clutched Kruze close. She had escalated quickly this time, but she was so tired of being scared. Even Kruze tapping at her car earlier had nearly pushed her over the thin line between her sanity and screaming. She didn’t know how much she could take. Her fear was killing her, and she was part of the problem. For Robin’s sake, it needed to stop. All of it!
“Yes. Right. I can do this. R-r-right. I can.” I can. I can. I can!
Kruze turned her to face him, then bumped foreheads with her, his breath soft and warm. “I know you can, sugar. You and I outsmarted him once, we can do it again. Big breath. Deep breath. There you go. Slow exhalation. Nice and easy. Hyperventilation won’t help anyone, and you need to be on your best game from now on.” Like in that cave, his chest expanded as if he needed to show her how to breathe.
Once Bree did as Kruze asked, her heart ceased pounding quite so hard. Of course, he was right. In his line of work, Bree guessed he knew a lot of tricks and rules for keeping sane in the middle of chaos. He certainly knew how to help her rein in her panic. Bree could actually breathe without her throat clamping tight and her heart racing. Okay then. It was time to break this horrible cycle once and for all. Right after she broke the news to her mom and dad that they had to leave the home they’d built and lived in since they’d gotten married.
Chapter Nineteen
Brandon Banks owned one helluva sweet, eight-passenger luxury utility vehicle with full-time four-wheel drive, a full-size spare, as well as mud and snow-rated heavy-duty tires. Three rows of seats. Eight-speed automatic transmission. Paddle shifters. Kruze was in heaven driving the classy monster.
It was zero-dark-thirty, and the streets were quiet. Bree sat shotgun beside him. She’d changed into jeans, tennis shoes, and a plain black sweatshirt. He was still in the same clothes he’d worn to the group therapy session. Kruze hoped his jacket was somewhere in this vehicle. He’d stored his gear bag, plus a few other things in the odd-as hell lockbox installed in the center of the middle passenger seats.
At first sight, most civilians would think it was a rich man’s idea of a bigger, better console, the way the front of it butted against the back of the front seat. But the two pistol mounts along the sides of that lockbox, plus a few spent fifty caliber shells at the bottom were telling. Kruze wondered what job Brandon had retired from. He certainly looked the part of an average retiree who golfed all day. He was tan, his hair was trimmed short, and nothing about him was threatening. The guy was slender, nothing too impressive or worrisome. But he’d been too accepting of Kruze, too eager to welcome him into the Banks family. Too willing.
There were other tells he might not be who Bree thought he was. He’d distinctly said, ‘Sure wasn’t expecting it’d be you,’ when he’d met Kruze. Had almost sounded like he’d known him from somewhere. Kruze had let it slide, but now he wondered about the male charged with protecting Robin.
Bree’s parents were sitting in the rear third seat, Robin harnessed between them in a top-class booster seat with drink and snack holders. For the moment, her eyes were glued to the vehicle’s top-of-the-line entertainment system, complete with earphones, watching a program about penguins. Not a cartoon, but a documentary. Kruze kept checking the rearview mirror to see her bright, pretty face. He still couldn’t believe he had a daughter, but he was keeping an eye on Brandon, too.
Breaking the bad news with Bree’s parents had gone well, considering they were told to leave all possessions behind, to take just the barest necessities, and that their lives were in danger. It was Bree coming undone from all their questions that had won Lark and Brandon over. In minutes, bags were packed, a sturdy, super-sized cooler with enough bottled waters, food, and snacks for the long trip was loaded into the LUV, and they were on their way.
Kruze had called Senator Sullivan then, and they’d come up with a plan for two agents from The TEAM, an elite security company based in Alexandria, Virginia, to meet up with Kruze. Those agents would take Brandon, Lark, and Robin to a secure location, while Kruze and Bree went a different way. It was essential to split the Banks family in order to keep everyone safe. Kruze just hadn’t told Bree yet.
He’d already put a call into Wayne to apologize for not showing as planned. He’d asked Wayne to take care of his truck until he returned. The keys were under the rear, passenger-side floor mat. Next, Kruze called home and got a snippy, “Sinclair Ranch, how may I direct your call?”
“Paloma?” Why couldn’t it be Suede?
“Oh, it’s you,” she answered with enough disdain in her tone to choke one of Chance’s horses. Pagan’s wife wasn’t exactly fond of Kruze. They’d had a hate/hate relationship over the years. Still did.
Kruze ignored the attitude. “Please put Chance on.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s in the barn.”
“Doesn’t he have a phone out there yet?”
“Guess not.”
“Not even his cell?”
“Only if he took it with him. Which he didn’t. It’s sitting here in its charger.”
“Okay, then put Pagan on.” He would do.
“Can’t.”
Kruze deleted ‘why the hell not?’ and strived for just, “Why not?”
“He’s in Bosnia-Herzegovina.”
“Okay then…” Kee-rist! Communication shouldn’t be this hard. “Is Suede there?” She was the pleasant sister-in-law.
“No.”
“Then where is she?” Kruze gritted his teeth, tired of having to drag every bit of information out of Pagan’s stubborn wife.
“She’s outside playing in the snow with Remmie, where do you think?” Remmie was short for Remington, Chance and Suede’s baby boy.
Kruze fought for patience. “Guess you’ll have to do, then.” Damn it. “Do you have access to Chance’s office? To his computer?” This time Kruze hoped she’d say no. He didn’t want Pal accessing his confidential information. But since she was the only one inside the lodge, she’d have to do.
“What do you think?”
His thin hold on patience snapped. “I think you’re rude as shit, Pal. And if I have to ask you to explain one more gawddamned answer—!”
“Hold please.” She disconnected before Kruze could finish, damn her.
Bree’s hand hit his wrist. “Language,” she whispered, her gaze darting back toward Robin.
Kruze nodded, message received. Robin didn’t need to know how to swear. But damn it. He jerked his cell away from his ear and stared daggers at the damned thing. Talking with Paloma was like being in a knife fight. She adored Pagan, but she thrived on ignoring, besting, or annoying Kruze every chance she could. Didn’t matter if he’d just said good morning. She’d still have a snarky comeback to shut him down.
But like everything else wrong in his life, that failed relationship was on Kruze. How could he have known she’d had her eyes on Pagan the night Kruze invited her to live dangerously and spend it with him? Like the lady assassin hadn’t already lived dangerously. That putdown should’ve been the clue he wasn’t as hot as he’d once thought he was.
After Juliana, Kruze had turned into everything he hated about himself now: a user of women and a selfish, rutting pig of a man. He’d let his basest instincts loose, and for a while, they’d served him well. He could charm the panties off any woman, and he knew it. Some of those same women had even called him charismatic. They’d wanted to marry him.
But the steady stream of debauchery had never been about appetite. Truth be told, all those hookups had been about pain control. They’d left Kruze with an aching, hollowed-out feeling in his soul that no amount of sex or whiskey could fill. All those one-night stan
ds happened because, deep down, he’d been looking for something; he just didn’t know what that something was. All he knew was that loving a woman wasn’t worth the pain of losing her. Like Juliana and his mother. Never. Again.
Until now…
While he waited, hopefully, for his brother to pick up, Kruze’s gaze strayed from the road ahead to the tense woman at his side. Bree was different than all those empty hook-ups. She just might be the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t lose her. She could be his last chance to have what Chance and Pagan had—his life back. And Kruze didn’t want just an off-again/on-again relationship with his daughter. He wanted what Chance had with Suede, and, yeah, okay, even what Pagan had with testy Pal.
“Chance Sinclair,” Kruze’s older brother growled over the phone. Him stating his name like that, told Kruze that Pal had probably told Chance he had a pushy telemarketer on the line, or someone else just as annoying.
“Chance, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Big brother’s hearty laugh blasted Kruze’s eardrum. “When haven’t you?”
“Yeah, well…” Chance had him there. Kruze didn’t usually call home. “Need you to run down a call that came in yesterday afternoon to this number.” He rattled off Lark’s landline number. He also wanted Chance to research Brandon Banks, too, but he couldn’t ask for that intel with Bree listening.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“General Berfende is in the country. Sullivan suspects he’s coming after Brianna Banks again.”
“You really think he’d call her first?” Chance knew Kruze had safely extracted Bree from Turkey. But he didn’t know Kruze had met Bree years ago. But then, Chance didn’t know a lot of things about his middle sibling, and Kruze meant to keep it that way. The whole less-is-more concept.
“Not sure, but someone did. Might’ve just been a telemarketer, but if it was Berfende, he’s gotten too close to her, too fast. If you can identify that caller, Bree can at least breathe easier.”
Damned (SOBs Book 4) Page 15