After dinner, I let Adler talk me into going to a concert at a park a few blocks from our building. We sat in the grass, and I closed my eyes, letting the smooth jazz wash away my worries—at least temporarily.
I must’ve dozed off, but I woke with a start when I felt Adler touch my arm.
“Sorry. Your phone was ringing.” He handed it to me. “I think it was your sister.”
I groaned, remembering the weird feeling I’d had earlier.
“Be right back,” I said, standing and walking over to the sidewalk where I’d be better able to hear when my sister answered. The voice I heard, though, was a man’s.
“Hello, this is Sheriff MacIver calling from Hays County in Texas. You are listed in a woman’s phone as the emergency contact.”
I felt my stomach drop. “That would be my sister, Sybil Knight. Has something happened?”
“Ma’am, is there somewhere you can take a seat?”
“Why?”
The man cleared his throat. “A woman we believe might be your sister was found outside of Austin, Texas, this evening. I’m sorry, Miss Knight, but…”
“But, what?” I shrieked. I saw Adler stand and walk in my direction. Several other people were staring at me.
“We haven’t been able to confirm her identity, but if it is your sister—again, I’m sorry, ma’am—but she’s dead.”
3
Decker
It had taken exactly three seconds for me to get into the dead woman’s phone. Didn’t people know by now that the first password someone would try was password?
I looked up when Mac walked out of his office.
“What did you find out?”
Mac motioned for me to come in and closed the door.
“Reached the sister. Her name is Mila Knight. If it’s her, our victim is Sybil Knight.”
“Knight? The name sounds familiar.”
“You’re probably thinking of Judd Knight, their father.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
Mac shook his head. “He and their mother—I think her name was Nancy—divorced damn near twenty years ago. I haven’t seen any of them around these parts since the girls were little. I remember hearing that Nancy died. Can’t remember when that was exactly, at least ten years, though.”
“If the mother is dead, wouldn’t Judd be next of kin?”
“The sister’s already on her way to identify the body.”
Poor woman. First, she lost her mother, and now, her sister. “Where’s she flying in from?” I asked.
“Boston, of all Godforsaken places.” John “Mac” MacIver believed anywhere outside of the great State of Texas was Godforsaken. The sheriff scrubbed his face with his hand. “It’s always hard to tell someone their loved one is dead, but over the phone…”
I’d never had to do it; I didn’t envy Mac’s position.
“After I broke the news, someone else came on the line. A man. He was the person who confirmed she’d come and identify the body.”
“When’s she flying in?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“This isn’t your responsibility, Decker. Go home and get some rest.”
“I found her. The sister will have questions.”
“I’ll send her your way if she does.”
I waited until I got back to the ranch, where I lived and worked, to pull my second cell out of the truck’s console. I stuck it in my pocket, grabbed the takeout food I’d picked up when I left the airport hours ago, and went inside.
I set the two phones and my food on the kitchen counter and went into my office to power up the monitors. There hadn’t been a whole lot going on here in the last week, and it would be fine with me if it stayed that way.
Summer was typically a slow season, but this year, more would fall on my shoulders than usual. Quint Alexander, the ranch’s owner, was away for a month on the honeymoon he and his wife had been trying to plan since January. Not that I minded the extra responsibility. I’d lived and worked on this ranch since I was thirteen years old, and had been the ranch manager since I was twenty-three, when Quint and I took over running it full-time.
Before that, Quint’s father—who everyone called Z—had run it, usually with Quint and me by his side. When he felt we were ready, Z announced his retirement from ranch life and returned to London where he was currently Chief of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service, otherwise known as MI6.
I never met Z’s late wife and Quint’s mother. She’d died before I came to live on the ranch. She was the one who inherited the property from her daddy, Wasp King.
Hell, even before I knew a thing about the Alexanders, I’d heard stories about ol’ Wasp. Just about everyone in this part of Texas had. If I remembered correctly, Wasp and Judd Knight, father of the dead woman, had been tight at one time, even though Judd was several years Wasp’s junior.
Walking back into the kitchen, I opened the take-out container of Mexican food, dumped half of it into a bowl, and stuck it in the microwave. It was close to one in the morning, and the last thing I should be doing was eating food likely to give me heartburn, but I hadn’t eaten since before I left the UK.
I’d been there for a friend’s wedding, and on the day before I left, I’d been invited to attend an impromptu meeting for a start-up business. It was the kind of side work I already did in addition to my work at the ranch, only instead of being contracted when needed, I’d be a founding partner of the new company.
It was tentatively named Invincible Intelligence and Security Group—a name as long as it was pretentious—not that I gave much of a shit about stuff like that.
The meeting had been called by Cortez “Rile” DeLéon. Rile’s father, Carlos DeLéon, Duke of Soria, was the youngest brother of King Felipe VI of Spain. Rile’s mother was eighth cousin to Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom. With dual citizenship and connectivity to royalty, Rile had become an early asset to MI6.
The other two men at the meeting were Keon “Edge” Edgemon and Miles “Grinder” Stone. Both men were with MI5—the national intelligence side of England’s secret service.
All three men were ready to leave formal employment and strike out on their own. I, on the other hand, had always been a private contractor. The idea that I’d have more administrative responsibilities with this new entity didn’t thrill me, and I’d said so.
Rile had asked me to stay behind when the meeting adjourned. “We need you, Decker,” he’d said. “Please consider joining us.”
The man hadn’t insulted me with sanctimonious platitudes, and that was the only reason I even considered accepting the offer. I knew exactly how good I was, and I didn’t need anyone blowing smoke up my ass to confirm it.
Before I walked out, I promised Rile an answer within the week. First, I needed to talk the proposal over with the two men who had been my mentors for most of my life—Z Alexander and Laird “Burns” Butler.
Z was well aware of the new venture but told me to think it over before we spoke.
It was likely Burns was equally aware. Nothing in the intelligence world escaped the man who was renowned worldwide for his contributions to security technology—my specialty. I was good, but Burns was the best in all the world.
I walked back into the kitchen, dumped the food sitting in the microwave into the trash, and went to bed. It had been a long damn day, and something told me tomorrow wouldn’t be much better.
4
Mila
“I’m coming with you. This isn’t something you should do on your own,” Adler said as we stood at the airline ticket counter the next morning.
“This isn’t your responsibility. I can pay for my own airfare.”
When I pulled out my wallet, Adler covered my hand with his. “Please, let me do this,” he said.
I nodded, trying my hardest not to jerk my hand away. I was too exhausted and overwrought to argue with him.
Last night, after I’d dropped my phone w
ith the news of my sister’s death, Ad had picked it up and finished the conversation with the man I’d been talking to.
“They’ve asked you to come and identify the body,” he’d said after the car service he’d called dropped us off at our building and he walked me to my apartment.
“Of course,” I’d murmured. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Adler had stayed with me, saying he’d sleep better if he knew I was okay, even if it meant sleeping in the chair.
I followed him through the security line and up to the waiting TSA agent. I handed him my boarding pass and ID.
“Sure is hot in Texas this time of year,” the man said, attempting polite conversation.
“Yes,” I responded when he handed back my documents, wishing people would stop trying to make small talk with me.
“You have a nice day, miss,” I heard him say as I stepped aside to wait for Adler. A nice day? It would be the worst day of my life—identifying the body of my sister, my last surviving family member—since I no longer considered my father as family.
When we exited security at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, Adler excused himself to the men’s room. I was waiting a short distance down the concourse when I saw a man holding a sign with my name on it.
“I’m Mila Knight,” I said, approaching him.
The man lowered the sign, held out his hand, and I shook it. “Decker Ashford.”
I knew the name. Could it be the same Decker Ashford? It had to be. It wasn’t exactly a common name. Not to mention I’d never forget the kindness of his striking green eyes or the hint of a smile that he rarely showed, even all those years ago. The only thing that was different, besides his age, was that he no longer had hair that hung past his shoulders. Now, it looked like he kept his head shaved completely bald.
“Did Adler arrange for you to pick us up?”
His brow furrowed. “Adler?”
“What about me?” my friend asked, stepping up to my side.
“I thought you’d arranged for a ride.”
His eyebrows scrunched as he studied the man who had lowered the sign that bore my name. “I reserved a rental car.”
“Um, this is Adler Livingston.”
“Decker Ashford,” he repeated, not extending his hand to shake Adler’s. “I can take you to the medical examiner’s office.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” I murmured, wishing Adler didn’t look so irritated. What the hell was his problem? Did he really have to get mad about another person simply being kind?
“Did you check a bag?” Decker asked.
“I just have this carry-on.” He took the handle from me and wheeled my bag behind him.
I raised a brow, looked at Adler, and shrugged. Decker hadn’t bothered to ask if he had checked a bag.
“I’m here,” Decker said, pointing to an oversized pickup truck. After opening the door and holding out his hand to help me into the front seat, he put the suitcase in the backseat of the cab and left the door open for Adler to climb in behind it with his bag.
At six feet two, poor Ad looked scrunched in the small space. “I can sit back there,” I offered.
Before I could open the door to get out, Decker had started the engine and put the truck in gear.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said as he pulled out of the parking space.
“Thank you.” My eyes filled, and I looked away even though he hadn’t turned his head in my direction when he spoke.
“I’m the one who found your sister,” he added, leaning toward me as though he didn’t want Adler to hear him. “If you have any questions, you can ask.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I mumbled, brushing away a tear. Questions? I had countless, but I didn’t want the answers to any of them.
None of us spoke again until we reached the county building where the sheriff’s office and the morgue were located.
“Would you like me to go in with you?” Decker asked as he helped me out of the cab.
I looked at Adler, who appeared not to have heard. He also appeared to still be irritated when he pulled his wallet out.
“What do I owe you?”
I rolled my eyes. Adler could be such a condescending prick sometimes.
“Not a thing,” Decker answered, motioning us toward the building’s entrance.
I took a deep breath, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
Once inside, Adler stepped up to the desk to let the receptionist know that we had arrived.
“Why did you ask if I wanted you to go in with me?” I asked the man still standing by my side.
“Can’t be an easy thing to do.”
“Have you ever had to do it?”
He shook his head.
“Your family…” I stopped myself. How many people had deaths in their family that required a body to be identified?
“I don’t have any family, ma’am.”
Neither did I anymore.
“I’m Sheriff MacIver,” another man said, coming out of a door and into the lobby. “Hello, Decker.”
“Mac,” he responded with a head nod before motioning me to follow the sheriff. He followed too, leaving Adler trailing behind us. Every so often, his fingertips would brush the small of my back. It dawned on me then that every time Decker had touched me, I hadn’t flinched.
“Right this way, ma’am,” the sheriff said, leading me through another door and down a hallway. I stopped when I saw the sign for the morgue.
“I’ll go in with her,” I heard Decker say as he grasped the handle and led me into the cold room. I turned to look for Adler, who the sheriff seemed to have engaged in conversation.
“Decker,” said an older man who I guessed was the medical examiner.
“This is Mila Knight.”
“I’m very sorry to ask you to do this, ma’am.”
Not knowing what to say, I followed him over to the table where a body lay covered by a sheet.
“Would you like some privacy?” the medical examiner asked.
I turned and looked into Decker’s eyes.
“I’ll stay,” he said, and I nodded.
He moved the sheet and stepped back.
My sister’s lifeless form lay eerily still. “It’s her,” I whispered, closing my eyes. When I opened them, I was grateful the sheet had been placed back over Sybil’s face. “How did she die?” I caught the look that passed between the man and Decker.
“I should have the preliminary results of the autopsy within twenty-four hours. Full results may take up to six weeks to prepare.”
“What now?” I asked.
“There’s nothing else to be done here,” the older man said.
“Is there somewhere else you’d like to go?” Decker asked.
“My sister lived in my grandfather’s house in Bluebell Creek. Maybe I should head up there and see about making arrangements.”
“If that’s where you want to go, I can take you.”
“Thank you for your offer. I’m sure Adler won’t mind renting a car. He was in Bluebell Creek earlier this year when my grandfather passed away.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Decker muttered as we walked down the hallway to where the sheriff was waiting for us.
“Miss Knight confirmed her sister’s identity,” Decker said before the sheriff asked or I could speak for myself.
The sheriff nodded and turned to me. “I have your contact information. Here’s my card. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me.”
Too dazed to do anything else, I took the card and tucked it into my small cross-body bag and looked beyond him. “Um, do you know where Adler went?”
The sheriff shrugged. “Last time I saw him, he was outside on his cell phone.”
“Okay. Thank you.” It seemed odd that he’d leave while I was identifying my dead sister, but I had left him standing in the hallway.
“Will you be staying in town or heading right back to Boston?”
“It’s where her sister lived,” Decker added.
“Before you head out, could I have a minute on another subject?” the sheriff said directly to Decker.
“Go ahead,” I said when Decker turned to me. “I’ll be out front with Ad.”
I went outside, but didn’t see Adler. A few seconds later, he walked out from the other side of the building.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Making a call.”
Why was he being so short with me? It was so unlike him.
“If you need to get back…”
“What about you? Is there any reason you need to stay here?”
I stared at him. Was he serious? I folded my arms.
“What?” He reached out to touch my arm, but pulled back.
“You didn’t even ask me about Sybil.”
“Right. Um. Sorry. Distracted. It was an important call. Are you doing okay?”
“Am I doing okay? Adler! I just walked into a morgue and saw my dead sister lying on a metal table under a sheet. No! I’m not doing okay!” I dissolved into tears, and when he tried to comfort me, I pulled away.
“I’m sorry, Mil. I don’t know what else to say.”
I looked at him and shook my head, but before I could say anything more, Decker came out of the building.
“There’s been a change of plans.” He walked over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Mila, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the house in Bluebell Creek is a crime scene. There won’t be any access to it until the sheriff gives his okay.”
Adler made no secret of the fact he noticed that I didn’t flinch or pull away when Decker touched me. I couldn’t explain my reaction—or lack of reaction—myself. Decker Ashford, a man I barely knew, made me feel safe. Was it just his kindness? Was it that he took charge in a way that didn’t threaten me but, instead, made me feel protected? Or was it because all those years ago, he’d done the same thing?
Decked (The Invincibles Book 1) Page 2