Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (Brotherhood Protectors Book 11)

by Elle James

  Even she’d had a hard time believing it. Mason’s last words to her—besides I love you—had been We’re going out to nail some crooked Americans. He’d sworn her to secrecy because he wasn’t supposed to tell her about his missions. She wasn’t to tell anyone, including Trevor, their best friend, what she knew. Mason had eavesdropped on a secret conversation by accident. He’d known why they were going on his last mission, despite what his commander had told them. “And I have a good idea who they are.”

  After almost a year, and after going to work for the Department of Homeland Security, Lana had names of those she suspected were responsible for her husband’s death and for the ongoing planning of a potentially deadly terrorist attack scheduled to take place in the US.

  Lana had taken the next step. That morning she’d contacted the district office of the FBI and set up a meeting for the following day. When asked the nature of the meeting, she’d hedged. As an executive secretary to Huntley Powell, a high-level, regional director of the DHS, she didn’t want to out-and-out accuse anyone over the phone. She wasn’t certain whether they would spill her story to the world or sweep it under the rug. Either way, she was putting herself out there and was in danger because of what she knew, and she could be exposing herself to the organization where she worked.

  Now, she was certain someone had caught wind of her findings. She wouldn’t be safe in her own home. Not until she exposed the people involved.

  Even before the two policemen made it out the door, more arrived through the front.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “We got word shots were fired. An ambulance is on the way,” the lead officer said.

  “I don’t need an ambulance, but you might check the neighbors. The gunman fired several rounds. I don’t know where all of them went.”

  The policeman talked with three other officers who’d arrive. Those three split up and headed for the neighbors on either side of Lana’s townhouse.

  An ambulance arrived moments later, and an EMT jumped to the ground and hurried toward her, carrying what appeared to be a medical kit.

  The police officer intercepted him and told him she wasn’t harmed, but to check on her anyway.

  The EMT gave Lana a brief smile. “Do you mind if we check you over. Sometimes, the shock of an assault makes people unaware of their injuries. They don’t always realize they’re hurt.”

  “I’m not bleeding…” Lana ran her hands up her arms and stopped when her fingers touched something wet and sticky. She held her hand in front of her and felt her knees weaken again.

  “Ma’am, could you please take a seat until my guys can unload the stretcher?” He led her to the sofa and gently pressed on her shoulder.

  Lana sat before her knees gave out. “Really, I’m okay,” she said, though her voice shook, not sounding very convincing. “I don’t need a stretcher. I’m more worried about Trevor.” Lana glanced toward the back of the townhouse. “Shouldn’t you send more men after the gunman?” And Trevor? What if he caught up with the man who’d tried to kill her? If Trevor cornered him, he might try to kill Trevor.

  Her pulse kicked up, and she half stood.

  The EMT who was taking her blood pressure frowned and held her arm, keeping her from rising all the way to a standing position. “Please. Let the professionals do their jobs.”

  She bit her lip and settled back on the sofa, tapping her foot as she waited for news about Trevor and the gunman.

  What was taking them so long? Had the gunman gotten away? Had he hurt Trevor?

  Had it been a mistake sending that text message to Trevor? If anything happened to him, Lana didn’t know what she’d do. Though she hadn’t seen him in a year, not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought about him.

  And every time she thought about Trevor, guilt gripped her heart and squeezed it so hard she could barely breathe. After Mason’s death, she’d wanted to fall into Trevor’s arms and let him hold her forever. She loved both men. But was clinging to Trevor fair to her deceased husband? At the time, he hadn’t been dead for even a week.

  What kind of person did that make her, she’d wondered. A selfish, heartless widow. No. She’d decided she couldn’t lean on Trevor. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to Mason’s memory.

  So, she’d spoken to Trevor on the phone when he’d called, telling him she was fine when her heart was breaking for so many reasons. She’d lost her husband, whom she’d loved dearly, and she’d lost her best friend because of her sense of guilt.

  Now that Trevor was back, Lana wasn’t sure she could push him away again. Hell, she didn’t know whether he’d gone on with his life. He could have a girlfriend, a fiancée or a lover.

  His promise to Mason to look after her might be the only reason he’d returned.

  Lana squared her shoulders. She needed to handle this problem on her own. She never should have texted Trevor.

  With that thought came another. If she hadn’t contacted him, she would’ve been dead by now.

  Chapter 3

  Trevor raced after the man who’d attempted to murder the only woman he’d ever loved. He wouldn’t let him get away. He couldn’t allow him to run free and make another attempt on Lana’s life.

  The metal clang of a trashcan hitting the pavement sounded ahead of him. His muscles straining, Trevor pushed faster. A dark figure rounded the corner of a house, disappearing out of sight.

  Trevor focused all his energy on catching up and taking out the man who’d dared to shoot at Lana.

  Lifting his elbows and knees, he pushed harder, faster and leaned into the corner, skidding sideways on loose gravel.

  Something round and metal swung toward him, blocking his vision a second before it collided with his forehead with a loud bonging sound like a bell or a large cymbal.

  Trevor’s head snapped back, and his feet flew out from under him. He landed on his back, the air knocked from his lungs, pain reverberating through his skull.

  A metal trashcan lid clattered to the pavement beside him, and footsteps raced away into the night.

  Rolling to his side, Trevor pushed up to his hands and knees. His head spun. When he tried to stand, the world tilted.

  “Have to catch him,” Trevor muttered to himself and shook his head to clear his blurred vision.

  The movement only made him dizzier. He clutched his head and trained his eyes on the figure in the distance. Or were there two?

  He took a step, swayed and tried another.

  His head ached, and his eyes still couldn’t focus.

  No. He couldn’t give up now. But then, what if the assailant circled back?

  More footsteps sounded behind Trevor. Turning slowly, he spied the two cops who’d come to their assistance and promptly lost their perp.

  Trevor pointed in the direction of the man getting away. “He went that way.”

  When the officers stopped beside him, he jabbed his finger at the air. “Don’t stop. He’ll get away.”

  “He’s gone,” one of the officers said.

  With a groan, Trevor turned back in the direction the gunman had run. Like the officer said, the man was gone.

  “Damn!” He faced the two officers as they bent over dragging in huge gulps of air. “And who is watching out for Lana? Did you leave her alone?”

  The two men shook their heads. “More units arrived as we left the house.”

  “Did you at least wait until they made certain Lana was okay?”

  “She seemed fine,” the other officer said.

  “Hold one,” Officer number one held up a finger and clicked the key on his mic. “How’s the homeowner?”

  “EMTs are looking at her now,” a static-y voice responded.

  The cop looked up. “Like I said, she’s covered.” Still breathing hard, he hooked Trevor’s arm. “We’ll need you to return to the house.”

  Trevor jerked his arm free of the officer’s hold. “I’m not the shooter.�
�

  “I didn’t say you were, but we need to ask you questions about what happened.”

  With a deeply indrawn breath, Trevor nodded. The police officers were only doing their jobs. “Let’s head back first, and I’ll answer questions along the way, as long as you can keep up.”

  On the way back to the townhouse, Trevor filled the two officers in on what he’d observed from outside the townhouse and what had happened once he’d climbed up the trellis.

  “Have you ever seen this man before?” the officer asked.

  “You saw as much as I did. He was wearing a ski mask. I didn’t have time to rip it off his head.”

  “He could be anyone,” the shorter officer remarked.

  “That’s why I was trying to stop him. If he tried to kill Mrs. Connolly once, he might go after her again.”

  “It could have been a simple break-in.”

  “The man didn’t stop to take anything like electronics or jewelry from the ground level. He headed straight up the stairs and aimed his gun at Mrs. Connolly. If she hadn’t been blessed with brains, she’d be a dead woman by now.”

  Trevor had been half-walking, half-jogging through the alley, eager to get back to Lana and make sure she really was all right. Until he knew for certain, he couldn’t calm down and couldn’t quite catch his breath.

  At the end of the row of townhouses, Trevor veered toward the front of the structure, figuring Lana would be outside on the lawn or in the street answering questions and giving her account of what had happened.

  No fewer than six squad cars lined the street, along with an ambulance and a fire truck. Lights flashed, and emergency personnel milled around the street, in the house and on the lawn. Neighboring tenants poked their heads out of their front doors or peered through the windows.

  In the middle of them stood Lana and an EMT who was just slapping a bandage on her upper arm. She gave the man a small smile and glanced around at the chaos of flashing lights, deep shadows and people.

  When her gaze found him, she pushed away from the first responder and ran toward Trevor.

  He opened his arms, and she flung herself into them.

  “Oh, Trevor,” she sobbed. “I was so worried about you.”

  He held her, reveling in the feel of her warm curves pressed against his harder planes. God, he’d dreamed of holding her in his arms every night over the past two years. First, after she’d married Mason. And then after Mason had died.

  Now he held her in his arms, as he’d always dreamed, and he couldn’t tell her how it made him feel.

  Lana wasn’t his to love. She was his best friend’s widow. He’d promised to take care of her and, because of his own selfish longings, he’d failed Lana and Mason miserably.

  At that moment, Lana didn’t need the messiness of a man who wanted her for his woman. She needed a man who was her friend and protector.

  He set her at arm’s length and tipped up her chin. “You okay?”

  She nodded, tears flooding her eyes, hovering on the rims but stopping short of falling. “I’m okay.”

  He touched her arm where the EMT had cleaned and bandaged her wound. “He got you?” His jaw clenched. “I should have killed him while I had the chance.”

  Lana gave a short bark of laughter. “I wish you had, too.” She stepped away and rubbed her hands along her arms, her face pale. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

  Trevor’s mouth twisted. “You were doing pretty well on your own.”

  She shook her head. “He would’ve killed me.” Lana shivered and bit her lip as it, too, trembled. “Why did you come?” She looked away. “I told you I’d handle things on my own.”

  “I stayed away far too long. I promised Connolly I’d look out for you.”

  “You have,” Lana insisted.

  Trevor’s lips twisted. “A call once a month is not looking out for anyone. I should’ve been here for you all this time.”

  Lana shrugged without looking his way. “I’ve been managing on my own.”

  “I know you can manage on your own under normal circumstances. But what happened tonight was anything but normal.”

  “He was just an intruder. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “I suspect he knew you’d be alone. And he didn’t seem to be there to rob you.”

  Her gaze swung toward him. “How do you know?”

  “He could’ve stolen anything he wanted on the first floor. You might never have heard him.” Trevor closed his eyes as he relived the horror of watching the man heading up the stairs when Lana was alone in her bedroom. He opened his eyes and stared at her. “He was after you.”

  Lana nodded far too quickly.

  Trevor frowned. “You think so, too?”

  She nodded and glanced around at the policemen climbing into their vehicles.

  The officer in charge stepped up to her. “You can’t stay in the bedroom upstairs. It’s a crime scene. If you stay here tonight, you’ll have to remain on the ground floor. Do you want us to position a uniform in front of your home for the rest of the night?”

  Lana shook her head.

  “If you don’t feel safe here, you might consider staying at a hotel,” the policeman suggested.

  Again, she shook her head and glanced toward Trevor.

  He hooked her arm. “She’ll have a friend staying with her.”

  The cop nodded. “Good. Don’t hesitate to call if he comes back.”

  Lana held up her hand. “Oh, we won’t hesitate.”

  The officers allowed Lana to enter her townhouse and go upstairs long enough to collect what she’d need from her bedroom.

  Trevor waited at the door to her bedroom while she gathered clothes and a suitcase. Then he walked with her to the ground floor. “I think you should stay in a hotel tonight.”

  She shook her head, rubbing her arms with her cool hands. “I don’t think it’s necessary. I’ll be fine here. I can sleep in the spare bedroom down here.” Lana faced him. “But you don’t have to stay.”

  “The hell, I don’t.” Trevor crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m staying.” He tilted his head toward the couch. “I’ll be comfortable on the couch.”

  “My couch is small. Your body’s much longer than that couch will hold.”

  He snorted. “I’ve slept under much worse conditions.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, but you don’t need to be uncomfortable now. You’re not in a war zone.”

  “I’m not in a war zone when I go to my mother’s house, but she insists on keeping my old bunkbed from when I was a kid.”

  Lana snorted, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can picture you lying in a child’s bed with your legs hanging over the end.”

  His heart warmed at the brief smile on her face. This was the Lana he remembered from when the three of them had been such great friends. She’d had such a zest for life, her eyes always dancing with mischief. Her joy was the reason he’d fallen in love with Lana in the first place.

  And why he was still very much in love with her.

  Keeping his relationship with Lana impersonal would be hell. But he couldn’t desert her now.

  Lana shot a skeptical glance toward the couch. She frowned. “You could sleep on the guest bed, and I can take the—”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, his voice stern. “If you want to help, a pillow would be nice.”

  She gave a quick nod. “I can do that.” Lana spun, ran into the guest bedroom and returned carrying a pillow with a cotton-candy pink pillowcase.

  When she handed him the pillow, their hands touched, and an electric shock zipped up Trevor’s arm and into his chest.

  He snatched the pillow and backed a step away, his gaze rising to hers.

  Her eyes had widened, and her mouth formed a soft O. Just as quickly, she clamped her mouth shut, lowered her glance and looked toward the damaged door of the townhouse. “Did you need anything from your vehicle? I have an e
xtra toothbrush, soap and shampoo, if you want it. There’s a small shower in the guest bedroom on this level. The place isn’t very big, but it’s comfortable. Are you hungry? Do you need an extra blanket?” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I talk too much when I’m—you know.”

  “When you’re nervous.” He gave her a sad smile. “You were never nervous around me when we were The Three Musketeers.”

  She shrugged. “That was a long time ago. Things changed.”

  He nodded. “Yes. They did. You chose the right guy. Mason was perfect husband material.”

  Her eyes glazed, and she bit down on her bottom lip. She glanced away and paused for a moment before saying, “You must be exhausted. Did you fly in from Montana today?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine. And yes, I flew down this evening.”

  “I sent you that text earlier today. How did you get a flight so quickly?” She held up her hands. “Not that I’m complaining. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Trevor’s chest tightened. He never could stand to see Lana cry. He opened his arms. “You knew I’d come.”

  She walked into his embrace and rested her cheek against his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”

  He held her again, careful not to breathe too deeply and make his chest press too tightly against hers. He could like this far too much and be just as heartbroken as he’d been when he’d discovered she’d said yes to Mason.

  He still had the ring he’d planned to propose with. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he’d hoped that someday he’d have a second shot at getting it right. How pathetic was that?

  Trevor reminded himself that she’d chosen Connolly and poaching on a dead man’s widow just wasn’t right. He pushed her to arm’s length. “I’d like to get a shower, and then we need to talk.”

  She nodded.

  He checked the back door, making certain the deadbolt was in place and he jammed a chair beneath the handle of the front door the cops had damaged. Then he grabbed her hand and started for the downstairs bathroom. “You’re coming with me.”