Anyway, I know we have a lot to talk about. And I know there’s plenty of time to do it. But I wanted to show you that I take this seriously from the word go. So I called my accountant and had him take out a new life insurance policy with you and the baby as beneficiaries. Then I opened a trust fund in your name for you and the baby. I know it would be presumptuous to assume you’ll want to make a life with me, but I want to make sure you’re taken care of. You are a smart, beautiful woman. You just need to believe in yourself. And money never hurts. So…when you’re ready, you can use this money to go to school like we talked about. And, in the meantime, it’ll help you get the best medical care and find a good place to live. Maybe even quit that dead end job. Or not. The choice is yours.
I’m sorry for making your hard life harder. But please let me make up for my stupidity by making things a little easier.
Peter
We were both quiet for a long time, staring at the letter in her hands. Then I lifted the other documents out of the box, whistling when I saw exactly how much my brother had left to his child and the child’s mother.
“You’re a very wealthy woman now, Amber.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take it.”
“Of course you can take it. It’s what Peter wanted.”
“But—”
“It’s what Peter wanted. How can you argue with a dead man?”
She was quiet for a long time, her hands shaking as she stared at the paper still clutched in her hands.
“It’s what you wanted. To not be dependent on me or my family anymore.”
“That’s not what I wanted.”
“You were looking for a job.”
“So that you would know that I was here by choice, not necessity.”
I tilted my head, looked at her for a long minute.
“What?”
She shook her head. “I wanted a job because I thought…you were acting like you didn’t believe me when I said I loved you. I thought it was because I made such a big deal about not wanting to depend on you. So I wanted to get a job to show you that I was still here, not because I had no choice, but because I wanted to be here.”
“That wasn’t…” I grabbed her face and pulled her close to me, kissing her roughly. “Stupid woman,” I whispered. “I didn’t care about that. I mean, I did, but it wasn’t what worried me the most. I thought…I was afraid you were in love with Peter and I was just—”
“Second best?”
“Yeah.”
She groaned, the sound like the painful groans that slipped from her lips when she gave birth to PJ.
“I never loved him. I love you. Peter…he was so kind to me. But he didn’t make me feel the way you did. You do.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She kissed me, hard, with all the desperation I felt. “I’ve never told anyone I loved them. I never felt this way for anyone. Peter…I was grateful. But that’s not love, Cole.”
“I know.”
I pulled back and studied her face, feeling like I wanted to scream and cheer and tell the world about this ball of happiness that was expanding in my chest.
“I love you.”
She smiled.
“I know.”
Epilogue
Megan
Six months later
“The new candidates are waiting.”
I looked up, distracted by the report on my computer. Dominic just finished a case involving some guy who thought he could use his employer’s plane to smuggle drugs in and out of the country. I was reading the report, wondering what trouble Dominic might be in this time.
“Okay.” I slowly stood, flipping off the monitor. “How many?”
“Four today.”
“I liked that guy yesterday. Vincent Caplin.”
“Me, too. I’ve already arranged for his background check.”
“Good. Maybe one more and we’ll be good.”
“Well you’ve got four good candidates today. Two were in the Marines, one was a SEAL, and one worked for the New York Police Department for five years.”
She handed me four file folders with names and pictures clipped to the front. Two stuck out to me right off the bat. Marcus Hanson. He was one of the Marines, active around the same time Cole was in the service. The other was Dante Saladin.
“What kind of name is Dante Saladin?” I asked as I walked into the room. “Your mom a fan of Dante’s Inferno or something?”
“Something like that.”
My head jerked up at the sound of his voice. It was deep, but silky, very much like Luke’s voice had been. But this man looked nothing like my missing fiancé. He was just as tall, just as dark. His hair was a longish black that curled at his collar and his eyes were a caramel brown that seemed to sparkle in the fluorescent lights. But his jaw was a little wider, his chin heavier. And his nose was narrower.
Not Luke. But the voice was almost too much to bear.
And Inferno. It was something of a joke between Luke and me. We read it in high school together because he had to do it for English class, but he didn’t understand any of it. But when we read i read it together…
I tilted my head slightly.
Get a grip, Megan. You’re tilting your sword at windmills.
“So, you were a cop…”
~~~
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GRAY WOLF SECURITY SERIES
Prologue
Kate
The bank was locked up for the night. I curled up in my office chair, my shoes kicked off, and went over the last few applications of the day. It never failed to fascinate me, the millions of reasons why people wanted a loan. Some of the applications told a better story than the bestselling novels piled up on my bedside table waiting to be read. Like this one from an older man whose wife died six months ago. I guess he was feeling a new sense of freedom because now he wanted a small business loan to start a small social club for “the social-security-aged youth” of his community. It made me chuckle, some of the colorful ways in which he made his case.
Finally done, I shut down my computer and straightened the surface of my desk. Mrs. Talbot, my manager, was a hard ass about the way our desks looked.
A bank is not the place to leave your panties hanging off the back of a chair.
That was her favorite mantra. Made me wonder what her house looked like. Probably so sterile she could eat off the floor. Either that, or she was a hoarder like on that television show. Boxes and papers and paintings and clothing stacked all over the place.
I slid my shoes back on and grabbed my bag, tugging it over my shoulder. Joe, the security guard—they were all named Joe, weren’t they?—pushed open the door.
“Have a good night, Miss Thompson.”
“You, too, Joe.”
I stepped out onto the front steps of the bank and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air. Santa Monica in January. There was a little chill to the air tonight. Nothing that would have my teeth chattering before I could get to my car though.
I made my way to the sidewalk, my thoughts still on that old man who wanted funding to open what would essentially be a brothel for older gentlemen, again chuckling under my breath. Then I turned the corner and the chuckles died.
What was going on? Something wasn’t right.
I hesitated before stepping into the dark alley where the employee parking lot sat. There was just something not right here. I thought about going back, asking Joe to walk me to my car. He’d offered often enough that I knew he’d be more than happy to walk me. And then there was movement, deep in the back of the lot, near where my car was, and…
I ran.
Chapter 1
At the Compound
The office for Gray
Wolf Security was actually at the home compound of Ashford Grayson. He bought the property with the company in mind after spending nearly a year wandering the county aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do with himself after he left the military—the Green Berets to be exact. He loved being a soldier. Adjusting to civilian life again was…difficult.
The security firm was born out of not only a need to find a purpose for himself, but to find a purpose for a few soldiers—like him—who also needed a direction. A purpose. Therefore, it was his business plan to hire men and women like himself, retired soldiers looking for something stateside that would have some of the adrenaline of the military without so many of the risks. A few risks. Sometimes more than even he could anticipate. But nowhere near what they’d risked in their day-to-day lives in Afghanistan and Iraq and Korea and wherever else they served.
The main house, a rambling cabin-like structure, served as the office space for the company—with Ash’s living space upstairs. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were advertised as “open-concept living.” Now they held a half dozen desks where Ash’s main operatives were expected to keep up with the paperwork that came along with a job of this kind. That included David, his brother, who spent most of his time working on the bank of computers arrayed in one corner of the room as their tech guy. The dining room housed a large conference table where clients were often given the dog-and-pony speeches over why they should hire Gray Wolf, or the explanation of what was done for them and why they should pay their bill that was often in the thousands.
Twenty-four-hour security was not cheap.
The kitchen was still just a kitchen. Ash had been known to make four-course meals there for his people after a particularly tough case was completed. Kirkland Parish, one of Gray Wolf’s operatives, also liked to cook, but you couldn’t always call what he made edible.
Ash had good people working for him. Each was handpicked for reasons that went beyond their ability to do the job asked of them.
Donovan Pritchard was a member of Ash’s own Green Beret unit. They worked closely together during Ash’s last deployment to Afghanistan. They saw things together that other people couldn’t even imagine, let alone see in their nightmares. Donovan was an expert at explosives. He could work with any material, blow up anything, and predict accurately how it would fall. He could take out a dozen insurgents but avoid the civilians right next door.
Kirkland Parish was also a Green Beret. Although he was with a different unit during Ash’s days with the Army, Ash had heard stories about him. He was something of a character, outgoing and something of a lady’s man. If there was a woman within a fifty-mile radius, Kirkland could find her and get her in his bed in a matter of minutes. Charm didn’t even begin to describe Kirkland. There was just something about him that instantly set people at ease. It was a skill that often came in handy with the kind of frightened, wired clients Gray Wolf served.
Joselyn Grant Hernandez, Joss, was a tiny but fierce soldier who stood up to and conquered every obstacle thrown at her during basic training. And then she served two tours of duty, leaving the Army only because she fell in love and wanted to experience a normal life. She was on Ash’s radar when he began building his company, but she was happy living with her schoolteacher husband and being a stay-at-home mom to her six-year-old daughter. But when her husband and child were killed in a car accident, Ash and his Gray Wolf team stepped in, made sure the driver of the other car received his just punishment, and gave her a place to turn to when she was ready to get back to work. She took it and she was good at her job. The fact that she wouldn’t speak didn’t seem to bother anyone.
And then there was David.
Ash and David grew up in Austin, Texas where their father was a longtime member of the Texas legislature. They were a close-knit family, one of those that politicians often parade out in public with big smiles on their faces. The only difference was, it was true in their case. When Ash graduated college with a degree in political science and decided to join the Army, his parents couldn’t have been more thrilled. The dream was that he would one day follow in his father’s footsteps. David, too, was serving his country. After college, he joined the FBI.
And then things changed.
Their father was elected to Congress. There was a celebration that ran late into the night on Election Day. Ash couldn’t be there because he was deployed, but he managed to speak to his parents for a few minutes via satellite phone. If he had known it would be the last time…
David was driving the car. Dad was too tired, and he’d had a few too many to drink. And Mom, well, she just didn’t drive. The car hit a patch of black ice. It was Austin. In November. Not a common occurrence, but it was known to happen. The car flipped. Mom was declared dead on the scene. Dad lingered a few days, the press thick outside the hospital, waiting with baited breath. And David crushed his lower spine. Bone fragments were removed and his potential recovery was optimistic. However, they missed a few, and the inflammation caused paralysis from his upper thighs down. The doctors thought they could restore movement, maybe allow him ninety percent mobility, but he refused to undergo the procedure. He said the risk wasn’t worth it.
Ash thought it was guilt. And guilt he understood.
“Listen up!” Ash called, as he made his way through the room, a handful of file folders in his hand. “Assignments.”
Like good soldiers, his people immediately gathered around the conference table. Donovan in jeans and a t-shirt, dark circles under his eyes. Kirkland looking dapper in slacks and a silk button-down shirt. Joss stood off to one side, still in the wetsuit she wore each morning to conquer the waves on her surfboard. David was always last to join them, moving efficiently in his fiberglass wheelchair.
“Kirkland, you’ll be working with Detective Warren today, tying up loose ends on your stalker case. He’ll meet you downtown at noon.”
“Hope he plans to buy me lunch.”
There were a few titters around the table, but they disappeared when Ash looked up again.
“Joss, there’s a doctor at Cedars-Sinai who’s having some trouble with an ex-husband. I’d like you to go over there, keep an eye on her for a day or two.”
She nodded, as she stepped forward to take the file he held out to her. She stepped back again, glancing through the file as Ash continued the meeting.
“David, you should keep working on those background checks. We need those by tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” David said, snapping a weak salute that made Donovan reach over and smack his shoulder.
“And Donovan…you’re behind on your paperwork. You need to spend the day getting caught up.”
Donovan groaned. “Really, can’t David or Rose do that for me?”
“The paperwork has to be done by the operative himself. You know that.”
“What’s the matter, Donovan? Intimidated by a simple little computer?” David asked.
“Shut up,” Donovan said, feinting a punch at David, laughing when he flinched. “You may be in a wheelchair, but I’m not afraid of kicking your ass.”
“Boys,” Rose said from across the room.
“Sorry, Miss Rose,” both David and Donovan muttered, their hands properly tucked into their laps.
Ash hid a chuckle behind a cough. Somedays he didn’t know what he’d do without Rose. He’d hired her to be the office manager, to take care of the administrative crap he didn’t have the patience to deal with, but she’d become something more than that, almost like a mother figure to this rag tag band of misfits.
“Okay, people. You have your assignments. Go do your jobs and don’t get dead.”
Ash watched them leave, then he went to his own desk, his thoughts going to the same place they always seemed to go to on quiet mornings. Or busy mornings. Or lazy afternoons. It really didn’t seem to be any particular time. She was always on his mind.
He pulled a file folder out of his desk drawer, one that was so thick and so worn at the edges that it was o
bvious it was opened often. The top sheet was a picture that he shouldn’t have, one that wasn’t supposed to exist. Her name was Alexandra, but she liked to be called Alexi. She thought it sounded exotic. And exotic went a long way toward describing her. Despite a mundane Midwestern upbringing, she’d reinvented herself in the military. She was a lot like Joss, tough but feminine, strong but gentle. Tall, with dark hair and haunting, golden-brown eyes, she was beyond words. Ash tried to describe her, but he always failed. There was just something about her that wormed its way under his walls and made him feel things he never thought he would.
She was his fiancée. Only no one knew it but the two of them.
Alexi was CIA. They worked multiple missions together in Afghanistan. The last was a recon on a corrupt politician that went wrong. They got separated. He made it to the extraction. She didn’t.
It was two years now that she’d been missing. He’d gone over their plan, over all the things that could have happened to her, but every lead died out. As far as the United States government was concerned, Alexi was dead. However, Ash couldn’t believe that. He knew how talented she was. He knew what she was capable of. For her to have been killed on that mission, her body never found, someone had to have gotten her unawares and taken advantage of her distraction. And that just didn’t happen with Alexi. She was not distractible.
He knew in his gut that she was still alive.
He was going to find her. He didn’t know how or when, but he was going to find her.
COLE (Dragon Security Book 1) Page 16