HIS Series Box Set (Books 4-7)

by Sheila Kell

  When he caught her, she was giggling like a little schoolgirl. Holding her back to his front, and with her feet off the ground, he spun them around, full-on belly laughing with her. When he stopped, a bit dizzy, he kept her aloft. “I think you’ve got something of mine.”

  She clutched the candy bar to her chest, holding on for dear life. He’d seen women this desperate for a chocolate fix, but they’d usually been pregnant.

  Since trying to steal it failed, she attempted another route and proceeded to pout. “Won’t you share some with me?” She turned to him and batted her eyelashes super-fast, amusement etched on her features.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he growled in her ear. “I’ll share… after.”

  Furrowing her brow, she asked, “After what?”

  In a move he’d learned from Matt, he set her down and before she recovered, he spun her around and tossed her over his shoulder. Bouncing her to ensure she was secure, he grinned at her protests. When her laughter mellowed a bit, he slapped her on the ass and walked back into the cabin. “After.”

  DRAWING HER BROW low, Rylee watched Devon. “Why are you bringing so much crap in your backpack? We’re just going there and back. Good grief. Is that really a pump to purify water?”

  “We should look authentic.” He stuffed the pump and a first-aid kit in the small space available. They definitely looked the part in polypropylene and pile pants and shirts, and sturdy hiking boots. Almost chuckling aloud, he noted how her stuff looked worn, and his looked as if it’d just been purchased. And, it had been. Hiking hadn’t interested him before now. Rylee seemed to enjoy it though, so he’d have to get into it. “Besides, if we don’t find anything, and it isn’t raining, you and I are hiking, having a picnic and exploring that cave you mentioned.”

  “And if we find something?”

  Placing his hand on his hip like he’d seen her do to him, he assumed her frustrated pose and answered, “Then we hightail it back here, call Jesse along the way and find those girls.”

  “Ha-ha! I see what you did. I do not look like that.”

  Chuckling, he stepped to her and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He kissed each knuckle before releasing them and resuming his packing.

  She picked up her juice glass and wiped down the table from their breakfast. A flash of something—a vision of Rylee doing something similar flooded him. She was wearing a black dress and it was at a table in a restaurant or bar. Smiling, she lifted the glass and the dirty napkins from the table to a waiting waitress, then she turned that brilliant smile on him. His heart melted at the sight. As suddenly as it appeared, it vanished.

  Vegas. There was no other explanation. He didn’t want the vision to stop. There was so much more that he wanted to remember. Preferably all of it.

  “Will it be safe to have a phone and still pretend to be lost?” Breaking him out of his thoughts, she sounded almost breathless.

  Remembering why, he gave himself brownie points for her reaction and fought the tug at the corners of his lips. “We’ll hide it before we go into the house.”

  “Are you worried they might search us?”

  “It would be stupid not to be a little worried since somehow the owner knows Westbrook—good or bad.” And, he knows me, which could also be good or bad. “If something happens—however we can—we get to the phone and call Jesse.” A sliver of doubt crept its way into his mind, warning him he should call his brother now. Frustrated, he slapped it away. Christ, it was one man and no girls at the house. He had a pair of balls and his wife surely held her own since she’d been an FBI agent. Enough second-guessing himself, he nodded as if he’d resolved all the world’s problems. “Did you give Angel and Max extra food?”

  “Yes. We’re lucky Angel doesn’t wolf it down all in one bite. Do you think it necessary though?”

  He shrugged and looked at the dog, wondering how old she was. Definitely not old enough that she’d slowed down as far as he could tell. “Probably not, but it can’t hurt to be prepared for our getting lost or something.”

  After zipping his pack, Devon turned to his wife and raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready for this?” Christ knew he wasn’t ready. Once again his thought shifted to Robert Carver. If he was there, alarm bells would raise with Rylee. She might think Devon had been keeping her away on purpose and trying to protect the man. However, now wasn’t the time to discuss that relationship because if they didn’t move, they’d never beat the rain that might come.

  She huffed, pulling him back to his original question. “I’d be more ready if you’d allow me to carry my weapon inside.”

  “It’s like the phone—a necessary precaution to stash them away from the house.” Because he’d sure as hell have his there as well, and although he didn’t normally carry one, his hand itched to have a weapon in it to protect Rylee. No matter the situation.

  They departed and trekked through the woods in silence. The trip took longer since they’d swung around to come from a direction other than the rental. Devon and Rylee emerged from the trees with the horse corral between them and the house. He wiped at the sweat that beaded down his face. In her eagerness, she’d put him through a workout with the pace she’d set on the hike. As would any man, he’d refused to tell her to slow down. Instead, he fought to catch his breath when she wasn’t looking.

  The moleskin in his backpack called to him. They’d have to stop so he could remove his boots and apply some to his heels before they continued on their way. He’d have to concede that one to her since she’d foisted the healing product on him when he’d bought new boots in town.

  Rylee stopped at the pen where two horses ambled toward her. The closest, a reddish-brown colored mare with white markings, halted in front of her and pushed her muzzle into Rylee’s waiting hands. Stroking the animal, she spoke quietly, “I think we should wait here for a few minutes to see if the guy approaches us. Makes us seem less threatening.”

  Pride flooded in at her thinking. He’d bet she’d been a damn good FBI agent. “That works.” He dropped the backpack, wishing he’d listened to her and made it lighter. The second horse, a stallion, approached him, nudging at his chest. Devon reached out and stroked the horse’s muzzle, and it pushed out a heavy breath that flared its nostrils.

  He glanced at Rylee and caught her fighting to keep the hair the wind kept blowing out of her face. She pulled a stretchy thing from her wrist and tied her hair back in it. A laugh almost bubbled up from him because the hair around her face was too short to be contained and flew around. He turned his gaze upward and his gut did a summersault. The storm had rolled in faster than he’d anticipated while they’d been in the woods. The skies were nearly black and threatening to soak the inhabitants unlucky enough to be in their path as they breezed by. They needed to make this trip quick.

  Watching the sky and knowing the picnic and exploring with his wife were not happening today, he almost missed the movement at the barn. Of course, his wife caught it first and she’d swatted at him before he fully caught the man’s silhouette. “I see,” he mumbled. His pulse rate increased and his palms turned clammy at the fear of being identified and him not having prepared his wife. It’d been a stupid thing not to tell her on the hike over. Of course, being winded and talking were a hard mix. So, his excuse went.

  Putting on what he hoped was a charming smile, he turned and his body relaxed a bit when the man before him wasn’t Carver. “Hello,” he said loudly. “My wife and I got lost and wonder if we can have some water and directions. We heard there’s a great waterfall out this way, but we must’ve missed a turn.” When he’d finished, the two men faced each other and Devon extended his hand. “Daryl Reynolds.”

  “And an indoor bathroom would be fabulous,” Rylee piped in, as she came to his side, dancing around as if in urgent need of the facilities.

  The burly man, held Devon’s hand and surveyed the two of them intently. So long, in fact that Devon worried he’d deny them. They needed to get inside the hous
e to move forward in one direction or the other. Finally, he let go of Devon’s hand. “Nick is the name. Come to the house and I’ll help you out.”

  They grabbed their packs and followed. “This is a nice place. You live out here by yourself?” Rylee asked conversationally.

  Nick stuffed his hands in his front pants pockets. “Yep.”

  A man of many words. Great. How the hell would Devon keep him talking while Rylee searched? Time to test the waters. “How about them Broncos?”

  The man nodded. “Great start to the season although they got robbed last week.”

  Devon smiled. He’d chosen the right topic and team. Hell, it was a universal male conversation piece.

  “Listen, you boys can discuss football later. I need a bathroom and I’m not peeing in the bushes again until I absolutely have to.”

  Chuckling, Nick opened the front door and the outline of a handgun at the waistband under his shirt was evident. Cool air hit Devon’s face as they followed the man inside the home. Keeping his head forward, Devon allowed his eyes to roam the area. Remembering what Jesse always asked for in surveillance, he looked for cameras, sensors or anything that told him what type of security to expect in case they needed to return with the team. He’d expect some security from a former spook, but to have cameras in your own hallways wasn’t a good sign. He hoped Rylee saw them before she went about exploring and equally hoped someone wasn’t monitoring them real-time.

  “Down the hall”—Nick pointed—“third door on the right.” He nodded to an open living area. “Wait in there and I’ll grab you two some bottles of water.”

  Devon and Rylee gave a knowing nod and went about their mission realizing time was critical. Dropping his pack inside the room, Devon made to bend down to pull something from it when he slipped a small listening device from his pocket to below the small table. He’d just planted a second one across the large room when Nick entered, two bottles of water in hand. “Where are you staying?”

  “We rented a cabin about an hour from here. I think it’s an hour. Hell, I’m so turned around right now.” Devon accepted a bottle dripping in condensation. “We’re not sure how to get to either the waterfall or where we’re parked.” Shrugging, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a smashed compass. “It got stepped on and the needle bent. I straightened it, but it’s not worth shit anymore.” It had been Rylee’s brilliant idea to doctor it up. She just kept earning more and more props on this mission of theirs. Christ, he hoped she didn’t push it too far and go where she shouldn’t. “What do you do?”

  Nick narrowed his eyes at the abrupt change of topic. “Retired.”

  Hell, he had to go back to sports to keep him talking. “So, robbed huh? I’m a Ravens’ fan and they played at the same time, so I missed the Broncos’ game.”

  Nick dropped into one of the chairs. Devon followed suit. “Yeah, damn refs are crooked. They tossed flags on the Broncos all day long, but never on the Chargers. We lost by a field goal to them.”

  “Really?”

  “Fucked up, that’s what it was. We lost by three points. Three! And, if we’d had the field goal, we’d have tied and gone into overtime and crushed them, no matter the assholes ref’ing.”

  Pouring water down his gullet to keep from arguing with the asshole in front of him, Devon nodded as best he could. Robbed, my ass. The Broncos played a shitty game. It happened. One dealt with it and moved on, not blamed everyone else.

  “Where’s your woman? She’s taking a long time.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I think she really, really had to go. Sorry, dude.” Where the hell had the word dude come from? He was not cut out for subterfuge, and she would have his ass if she found out he’d said that about her.

  Laughing, Nick opened the water bottled he’d presumably brought for Rylee, stopping only long enough to drink. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he continued talking about the game as if they’d not spoken of anything else. Devon wanted to scream, but instead played the proper pal to commiserate the game loss with. There’d be no time for him to slip into the hallway and plant a bug so he hoped his wife did before she returned. Speaking of returning, he was getting worried about how long she’d taken.

  When the man looked at the entryway and frowned, Devon attempted a redirect. “So, where is this beautiful waterfall we heard so much about? Please say we’re close because I gotta tell you, my feet ain’t made for this much hiking.”

  Turning back to him, the man took a moment and then laughed. “Well, buddy, I hate to tell you this, but you’re a good two miles from it. You got good ’n turned around.”

  “Shit. She sure had her heart set on the waterfall. I’ll tell you what, just tell me how to get back to the main road, and I’ll let her think we’re headed to her spot and act surprised when we wind up back at the car.” He grinned with gusto, like he’d had a brilliant idea.

  Nick chuckled. “You’ve got balls, man. Okay, it’s not too difficult.” He explained what Devon already knew, but to keep up pretenses, and add more time for Rylee, he asked questions and allowed himself to appear directionally challenged. When it seemed he’d have to go back to the Broncos, she magically appeared with a bright smile encompassing her face. Either she’d found something or she was a damn good actress.

  “I’m so sorry. I actually dozed off on the toilet. So embarrassing.” She tilted her head to Devon. “Is that water for me?”

  “Shit. Sorry.” Nick breezed past her.

  Devon leaned close to her ear. “Don’t say a word.”

  She nodded.

  “Here.” Nick returned extending a bottle of water. “I hooked your husband up with directions.” He winked at Devon.

  Quick on the uptake, she raised her brows at Devon.

  “Let me grab my pack and we can get on our way.”

  They exited the house amidst small gusts of a chilly wind with the hint of rain in it. Time wasn’t on their side. They would get wet. How stupid he’d been to think they could beat a storm.

  Rylee leaned close to him. “Why are we going this way? Our phone and weapons are the other way.”

  Glancing over his shoulder to see Nick standing in the doorway, he nodded to the man and turned to his wife. “Because this is the way he told us to go. It would be mighty suspicious if we went in the opposite direction.” Reaching out, he clasped her hand in his. “We’ll just circle around and get them. But, first, I think we need shelter. Feel the dampness of the air?”

  “The cave is closer than the cabin.”

  Protection was protection and a cave sounded awfully cozy. “Lead on.”

  As if by mutual agreement, they didn’t speak of what either found, or didn’t find, at Canyon Creek Ranch. Rylee bounced with energy, so he had an inkling of suspicion that she’d found something. How she kept it quiet after all her determination to search baffled him.

  “Pick up the pace, the bottom is about to fall out. Grab some wood along the way and we’ll make a fire. If we wait, we might only find wet pieces.” Devon leaned down, almost toppling with the weight of his pack, and snagged a broken branch that appeared perfect for a small fire. Pity, he hadn’t been a Boy Scout growing up, then he’d know what pieces were truly the best. Oh well, they’d have a fire—easy or not.

  ROBERT CARVER UNBUTTONED his light gray Armani suit jacket, grasped both lapels, and then pulled it off his shoulders and down his arm before tossing it haphazardly on the back of a wine-colored leather chair. Walking to the plate-glass window in the room he’d designated as his office within his Manhattan home, he stared out over the clear sky, wondering when they’d have some rain to break their drought.

  Pride swarmed him, from his thirty-fourth-floor space, at his grand life. A life not dependent on a ridiculous government salary or listening to someone in charge who had no clue. Now, he was in charge of everything and had a small empire. Many years ago, the elder Westbrook—Keith—had shown him the easiest way to make money. The man would kill h
im if he knew that Robert and Dave had been lovers. His stomach clenched at the thought of Dave being murdered. They hadn’t been in love, only lust, but the loss was still raw.

  Hell, if the old man ever found out, he’d probably turn Robert over to the authorities. But, with Dave gone, it was too late for Keith to find out because Robert sure as hell wouldn’t tell anyone.

  There had been a benefit to having a relationship with Dave. Robert had jumped on Keith’s share of the market in a matter of seconds after his arrest and used Dave, unwittingly, so his father would hand over everything the authorities hadn’t confiscated without question or, most importantly, cost.

  After he finished the current sale he had pending, he’d find the woman who got away. Rylee Hawkins. The benefactor who wanted her had offered double upon hearing she’d escaped them. Enough to make Robert almost default on other agreements, but no, he honored his word. A bitter grin grew on his face. Honor amongst criminals was true and alive.

  The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Reaching for it from his pocket, he automatically drew himself up to his full five foot eleven inches—six foot with the lifts in his shoes. After seeing the number, he knew to expect bad news, and he hated bad news. Before he’d left the CIA, he’d set up a network that kept him knowledgeable about anything that mattered to him. He was always intent on getting information first. For some things, he had to rely on nonagency help, and that was where things usually went awry.

  “Yeah,” he said shortly.

  “Um, boss, you told me to tell you if anyone ever came to the ranch. Well, a man and his wife did today. They were lost,” the voice said nervously.

  “What do you mean a man and his wife visited the ranch? How the fuck did they get lost around there? We’re out in fucking nowhere land!” Robert bellowed to Nick through the phone.

  He never should’ve left that idiot to oversee the ranch. Sure, he was excellent with the horses, but he was still an idiot. Having people inside one of his houses, without his approval, grated on his nerves and made him want to smash something. Right now, that something was Nick’s head.