Deadly Force

by Misty Evans

  Emit’s brows drew together and he looked confused. “Nooo.” His voice held a trace of a lie.

  She took the invitation. “I’ll think about it. What’s the second thing?”

  He reached into his coat pocket again. “This.”

  The envelope this time was legal sized and pale ivory. Her lawyer’s name and address were in the top left corner.

  The divorce papers.

  Her heart cramped inside her chest. As usual, her instincts and her logic had been spot on. This was no casual visit. “Oh. I see. He finally signed them.” But he couldn’t bother to bring them himself.

  Fingers shaking, she snatched the envelope from Emit’s hand. “He could have just mailed them to the lawyer.”

  Emit scratched the back of his head, looked around. “Are you doing okay, Bianca? I mean, Bronwyn? Harris said you’re consulting for the taskforce, but he said you won’t come back to his team fulltime.”

  The envelope in her hand felt too heavy. She tossed it onto the foyer table and the stupid thing slid off. “I’m not an undercover agent, and there’s a lot of stuff up here.” She tapped her temple with a finger and focused on Maggie for a second to calm herself. The dog did wonders for her anxiety. “Criminals, terrorists, and foreign governments would like to get their hands on that kind of information. It’s not safe for me to stay in one place too long or to form permanent relationships.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  Ironically, she felt less alone now than she had before. It would suck when she had to pack up and move, but Victor Dupé had already found several government consulting jobs along the west coast for her where she’d make new friends and have a decent income. “I know how to take care of myself. I’m fine.”

  And she was, except for the raging gap of misery in her heart.

  “Well…” Emit hesitated. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  He held up a hand. “Hear me out. Business is good, but I need help. Help that I can trust. You’d be challenged and never bored, and you’d be safe. My team is made up of all crack bodyguards and they’re smart. Not as smart as you, but I need the ultimate analytical mind to teach them how to fine-tune their skills so they can be better. I don’t want them to just be meat bags that stop a bullet. I want them to stop the bullets before they fly.”

  Neurons in her brain fired. Her pulse sped up. What he was offering sounded too good to be true.

  Which meant it was.

  Maggie stood and looked down the sidewalk toward Emit’s SUV parked at the curb. There was no one in the front seat, no one nearby.

  “Offering me a job out of pity or because you owe Cal is low, even for you, Emit.”

  “No one in their right mind would ever pity you, Bianca, and I would never offer anyone a job if I didn’t know they were the right person.”

  “Bronwyn, not Bianca.” She didn’t believe him. His eyes were sincere and his posture earnest, but there was a slight dip in his voice. “You’re lying again.”

  He pinched his lips together, sighed. “Not about the job. I’m prepared to offer you a very substantial salary and all the perks that go along with management. You’d have your run of all my gadgets and I’d tell you all my secrets.”

  “I don’t want to know any more secrets. Trust me.”

  He put his hands on his hips and gave her an exasperated look. “Tell you what, why don’t you speak to my project manager. He can explain things better than I can.”

  He turned and motioned toward his vehicle. Maggie wagged her tail.

  As the rear passenger side door opened, Bianca’s heart stopped.

  Cal exited the SUV slowly, shutting the door and standing on the sidewalk. He didn’t move, just stared at her.

  Maggie woofed once, then looked back at Bianca. She was too stunned to do anything but give the dog the command to go. Maggie rushed down the sidewalk and nearly jumped into Cal’s arms.

  Dog and master greeted each other, Maggie’s enthusiasm pulling a smile from Cal’s otherwise grim face.

  Bianca tried to harden her heart. “What is he doing here?”

  “What the hell do you think he’s doing here?” Emit said. “He was afraid you wouldn’t open the door if he showed up, so he sent me ahead to scope out enemy territory.”

  “Why. Is. He. Here?”

  “Because he loves you, B. He’s not going to sign those divorce papers so you may as well burn them.”

  The reunion with Maggie over, Cal started up the sidewalk, the dog slowing his progress by trying to get him to play.

  It couldn’t be true. He’d had Emit track her down. He hadn’t signed the divorce papers. She’d given him his freedom and her blessing and he’d come back anyway.

  Hastily setting the gun on the table, Bianca stepped out onto the porch. “Is it true?”

  He was smiling. “Is what true?”

  Emit backed away as Cal took the steps, sweeping her up in a bear hug.

  She let out a squeak. Surprise, mixed with that fragile but tenacious spark of hope, made her giddy. But that hope was still tempered. “Do you love me for me and not out of a convoluted sense of honor and duty?”

  He stared into her eyes, his own dark ones snapping with what looked like the same hope she was feeling. “I’ve always loved you for you. This past month, I worked on my rehab, and it was hell. I went before the investigative board and Congress and cleared my name. But the only reason I left you alone was to prove to both of us that we belong together. I can’t imagine my life without you. We’re a team, remember?”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Aren’t you going back to the Navy?”

  “You heard Emit. I’m his new project manager. And we need an analyst, badly. Emit can’t keep up with the number of clients we have and something’s going to slide through the cracks. A client or one of our men are going to get hurt or killed. I have the field knowledge, but you…you have the brains. The ability to analyze and predict outcomes. Together, you and I can make sure Emit’s team stays safe and so do the clients.”

  “And,” Emit added, “you won’t need a fake name. You keep my men safe and they’ll return the favor.”

  It was a big step. A huge one. The dynamics were mindboggling. Exactly the kind of thing she loved.

  Emit peeked over Cal’s shoulder at her. “What do you say?”

  What could she say? She got her husband back and a new career.

  She gave Cal a death glare. “How often will you be leaving me?”

  “Did I not just say we’re a team?” He grinned. “Where you go, I go, and vice versa. We’ll travel to locations together to scope out security holes, and we’ll brainstorm, plan, and execute operations together as well.”

  “Where will we live?”

  “Anywhere you want,” Emit said. “As long as it’s here on the West Coast. We’re doing more and more business in China and Russia. Keeping our base of operations here is more efficient.”

  “Do we have a deal, B?” Cal was still holding her. He lowered his voice, his gaze dropping to her lips and slowly working its way back up as if he were memorizing her features. “Will you be my wife again and my on-the-job partner?”

  Her mind was spinning with possibilities. The complications.

  A new adventure was waiting. A job that would challenge her mind and that came with one incredibly awesome benefit package.

  Bianca didn’t need logic to make this decision. All she needed was her heart. “On one condition,” she said.

  Both Cal and Emit lost their smiles. “What?” they said in unison.

  “Maggie’s part of the team too.”

  The two men released a collective sigh of relief. “Of course,” Emit said.

  “Not just as a pet,” Bianca added. “Maggie likes to work and she’s good at sussing out bad guys.”

  Emit shot Cal a quizzical look. “Sussing?”

  “Never mind,” Cal said.

  “She has separation anxiety.
” Bianca ran her fingers through Cal’s dark hair, touched the scar on his eyebrow. “Like a certain other female in your life, she doesn’t like being left behind.”

  Cal grinned. “I think you’ve fallen for my dog.”

  “She’s my dog, and surprisingly, I love your dog as much as I love you.”

  He kissed her, laughing against her lips. “By the way, we have one more addition to the team. Come meet her.”

  He set Bianca on her feet and led her to the SUV.

  When he opened the door and stepped back, she peered inside. She saw no one. “Your new team member is a ghost?”

  He pointed. “Over there. In my coat.”

  On the seat, a jacket was wadded up. Bianca leaned closer, and Maggie stuck her nose in, sniffing. Her tail beat a rapid-fire staccato against Bianca’s leg.

  A tiny ball of black fluff moved, stretched, and then blinked up at her. A small, pitiful mew came from its lips.

  “A cat?” Bianca threw her head back and laughed. “You adopted a cat?”

  “You told me to.” Cal scratched Maggie behind the ears. “And I was lonesome. You stole my dog.”

  “I didn’t steal her. She wanted to live with me.”

  Bianca drew out the kitten and cuddled her. Maggie tried to stand on her back legs to see it, but Bianca made her sit. Then she lowered the cat and let Maggie take a sniff. Maggie wagged her tail and the kitten mewed and licked Maggie’s nose.

  “Well, that’s settled,” Cal said, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulders.

  She cuddled the kitten again, suddenly feeling very maternal. “Not exactly.”

  Leaving the security of Cal’s embrace, Bianca hustled back to the apartment, carrying the cat with her and Maggie running by her side.

  “What’s going on?” Cal followed her inside.

  Emit joined them, and Bianca handed the cat off to Cal. “What’s her name?”

  “She doesn’t have one yet,” Emit said. “We decided we both suck at naming things, so Cal was leaving it up to you.”

  “I see.” She eyed the bathroom door at the end of the hall. “You guys grab a beer from the fridge and have a seat.” Thomas had stocked her fridge with some kind of IPA while Ronni had stocked her pantry with chocolate PopTarts—her kind of friend. “I’ll be back in about, oh, three minutes.”

  In the bathroom, she unwrapped the pregnancy test. Maybe the universe wasn’t playing tricks on her. A new kind of hope took root in her chest.

  The test didn’t take three minutes. A plus signed showed up in less than one. Bianca hung onto the bathroom sink, staring at that little plus sign and trying not to hyperventilate. She laid a hand on her lower belly. “Hang in there, kid,” she murmured. “You have a very bright future if we can make it through the next few months.”

  She splashed water on her face and prepped herself to go back into the other room.

  Cal was standing at the end of the hall waiting for her. When he saw her face, he frowned. “You okay?”

  She marched into the living room, past him and over to Emit. The kitten was in his lap, purring and trying to go back to sleep. “What kind of maternity benefits do you offer?”

  He’d made himself at home on her sofa, propping his feet on her coffee table and swigging her beer. Neither man seemed to have noticed the baby book hidden under Reunion In Death. “Why do we need maternity…?”

  He stopped with the beer bottle halfway to his lips, his eyes bugging out.

  Standing at the arm of the sofa, Cal looked like he was going to drop his bottle. “Are you…?”

  She held up the stick with its pretty little plus sign. “I am, and I think this time we have a good shot at going full term. So you better make sure you know what you’re doing, Callan Reese, because your team is about to expand.”

  With a loud whoop, he set down the beer bottle, picked her up, and spun her around. “Yes!”

  They were both laughing when Cal finally set her back on her feet. “We’re going to be one awesome team, Bianca Marx.”

  Maggie jumped and barked, delighting in the happy moment. The kitten opened one eye from the comfort of Emit’s lap and looked disinterested.

  “It’s Bianca Reese, for your information,” she told her husband, “and we’re going to be an awesome family.”

  Note from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  PTSD affects between 11% and 20% of our military veterans. Service dogs can help traumatized veterans overcome emotional as well as physical challenges. Many veterans with PTSD report their dog companions soothe, draw them out of their emotional numbness, and allow them to sleep at night.

  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. For some veterans, their service dog is not just man’s (or woman’s) best friend, but the one thing that keeps them functioning and connected with their families and friends. Bonding with a dog elevates a person’s levels of the hormone oxytocin which can improve trust and overcome paranoia. The best part is that many organizations adopt shelter dogs and train them for this rewarding job. Being adopted by a service dog organization and trained to help a veteran is a dream come true for them as well as the person they help!

  Please consider supporting one or more of the service dog organizations. You can learn more about a few of these organizations by visiting my website at http://readmistyevans.com/book/27/deadly-force.

  A portion of proceeds from the sales of this story in the SCVC Taskforce series will be donated to service dog organizations providing support for our veterans.

  Happy reading!

  Misty

  misty@readmistyevans.com

  And now enjoy an excerpt from the first book in the SCVC Taskforce Series

  Deadly Pursuit

  by Misty Evans

  Cooper Harris wanted to hit something. Hard.

  FBI Special Agent Celina Davenport—sexy siren of his daydreams as well as evil temptress of his night dreams—was sucking face with the biggest drug cartel leader in California and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Her soft voice coming through the mic as she taunted Londano to have sex with her on the beach gave him an instant headache of giant proportions. But it was the silence that followed, broken only by the sound of them kissing, that made him want to slam the wall of the surveillance van with his bare fist.

  Sucker punched. That’s what it felt like.

  It’s her job, idiot. She knows how to handle herself.

  Didn’t make him any happier. Which showed what a total sexist he really was. Sure, he felt protective about all the guys on his squad, but he never second-guessed them or their skills. He never went apeshit if they kissed a mark or led her on in order to get the information to take someone down.

  Celina was female and a little one at that. Short, underweight, except for a few well-placed curves, and she had a soft, almost Southern Belle persona that totally belied her fiery Cuban roots. Push her buttons and you’d see that fire, but it took an ungodly amount of button-pushing for it to surface. He knew. Out of everyone on the SCVC taskforce, he’d managed to tweak every hot button she had at least once. Most of them he’d not only pushed, but punched into the stratosphere.

  He loved it when the real Celina came out. Not the professional FBI agent she’d polished to perfection, but the holy shit amazing woman underneath. The one whose emotions rose up and took over, blasting him with her clever wit and overwhelming logic even as she flushed with anger and made gestures with her hands he’d never seen before.

  Yeah. That was the Celina he’d fallen for.

  But he couldn’t ever let her know that. How she tied him up in knots. How absolutely gone he was every time he was around her. He was her boss. Head of the taskforce.

  He was also fourteen years, six months and four days older.

  She was a baby. A rookie. A Feebie, for Christ’s sake. DEA agents did not play well with FBI agents.

  And he was The Beast after all. His reputation would hardly hold up under the pressure if he r
obbed the cradle and got the female rookie Fed on his team hurt in the line of duty.

  So he didn’t cut loose and punch the wall of the surveillance van, didn’t give into the surge of acid in his stomach. Instead, he scratched Thunder’s tiny square head and batted away the image of Special Agent Celina Davenport kissing Emilio Londano.

  FBI agent Dominic Quarters’ gaze was heavy on Cooper’s neck. Fucker had the hots for Celina, too. Cooper shot him an accusatory glance. Fucker could eat shit. “What the hell is your girl doing to our op, Quarters? This wasn’t the takedown we had planned.”

  “Pull your shorts out, Harris.” The shorter man eased back in his plastic chair and shrugged. The San Diego Mafia had been formed in the early 1970s by Jose Prisco. Thirty years later, his twin nephews, Emilio and Enrique Paloma-Londano took over the business. While most cartels gained international reputations for brutality and murder, the San Diego traffickers posed as legitimate businessmen. Their unique criminal enterprise involved itself in counterfeiting, kidnapping, and drug trade, but Emilio and Enrique passed off as law-abiding citizens, investing in their country’s future and earning the respect of their neighbors and the general public. The Feds wanted them gone. The DEA wanted them gone. Even the CIA thought it was a good idea. Too bad it wasn’t one of the spies he’d worked with before instead of Quarters sitting next to him. “She saw an opportunity and ran with it.”

  An opportunity? That’s what this asshole called it? “She’s going to get herself killed.”

  Quarters did the shrug thing again and Cooper’s hand balled into a fist. Punching Quarters would be way more satisfying than punching the van’s side panel.

  The van slowed, following a discreet distance behind Londano’s car and bodyguards’ vehicle. “Perp is pulling off highway and parking approximately one-quarter klick from here,” announced Thomas, a West Point grad who’d held a high profile position with the Department of Defense before defecting to the DEA. The T-man was Cooper’s right hand man on this takedown.