by Liliana Hart
It was hard for her to deal with Brady on a good day. The Navy SEAL commander was two hundred pounds of solid muscle packed into a six-foot-two frame. His jaw was square, his lips full, and his eyes an unusual shade of green with tiny gold flecks around the pupil. He was the nicest man she’d ever met, and even when she’d made it clear she had no desire to be his friend, he’d been friendly to her anyway. He’d also been on the team Declan had sent to rescue her after a group of Alexander Ramos’s men had beaten and repeatedly raped her, leaving her broken and nearly dead on a dirt street in Mexico.
She always wondered if that was the image Brady saw when he looked at her. Naked and bruised and bleeding, begging for them to let her die because the pain was so great when they’d tried to move her.
Her body had healed. And she’d learned to live with her past. Or at least bury it enough to function. But Brady had kept showing up, smiling at her despite her rudeness to him, and subtly making it known that he wasn’t at all deterred by her attitude.
“They make it out yet?” he asked.
She shook her head no and tapped the earpiece of her headset so he’d know the mission wasn’t complete. She muted her comms again.
He nodded and came into the room, closing the door behind him. “I thought mission ops had them in and out with civilians in tow in less than an hour, tops?”
He leaned toward the primary display board and squinted at the topographical map.
“Wow, coming into this command center always gives me technology envy. We’ve got nothing like this for the SEALs,” Brady murmured. “They always save the good stuff for the private sector.”
Much like she’d done before, he used his fingers to swipe at the wall screen, homing in on the ground team and the unfolding chaos halfway across the world. They’d taken cover in the rock crevice and had been able to use it as a shield and a way to slowly pick off their attackers as they tried to reach them. All she could do was sit by helplessly and listen to the sound of shouts and gunfire, watching the vitals screen to see if there would be any more deaths on her watch.
She couldn’t tell what Brady was thinking as he watched it all unfold. He blinked a few times, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, and then he jabbed the screen for a quick zoom.
“What the fuck is happening?” he demanded.
Elena’s shoulders stiffened and heat flooded her cheeks. His outburst caught her off guard. She’d seen him bark out orders, and she’d seen him struggle to hold on to his temper. But he’d never lost that control around her. He was always so…careful. Like what had happened to her seven years ago had made her too fragile to be real with. Everyone treated her like that. And she hated it.
She was tired of being treated as if she was going to break at any moment. No one knew how strong she really was. How much determination she’d managed to forge just to live from one day to the next. She remembered exactly how many bones had broken in her body—seven—and the excruciating pain of having her shoulder torn out of socket. And the searing smell of burnt flesh as they branded her thigh while another man crawled between her legs and grunted and sweated on top of her until he found his release.
After that, nothing could break her again. The MacKenzies had saved her. They’d made sure she’d gotten the medical care she’d needed, and then they’d given her a purpose by giving her a job. Her days and nights were all the same. She trained—because she’d determined she’d never be helpless again. Never again would she be taken without a fight. She worked—because it occupied her mind. And when her body and mind were too tired to function, she collapsed into an exhausted sleep, only to be bombarded with the nightmares of her past and woken with the feel of hands around her throat and the smells of everything that had happened in that filthy alleyway.
No one had ever questioned her work. She was too good at it. She put too much time and research into everything she did. But to have Brady question her set her temper off.
“What the hell does it look like?” she replied. “The mission went belly up, and now I’m trying to coordinate who’s going to rescue the rescue team.”
He looked at her in surprise and held up a hand as a peace offering. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “It was supposed to be an in-and-out op. I’m the one who recommended the new TL. I wanted his first mission to be a success. He’s got a lot of promise.”
“He’s gone,” she told him gently.
“What?” he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. Then he said again, “What? How is that even possible? What the hell happened out there?”
She couldn’t deal with him right now. She’d never seen him that upset, and she realized she’d come to rely on his constancy over the years.
“Let me do my job,” she told him. “This isn’t over yet, and I’ll give everyone a briefing once it’s played out.”
“Shit, Elena, what’s left to play out? We sent a ten-man team to rescue a group of BrexCorp hostages, and the only thing I see on the screen is the enemy taking over. Your job is to be their eyes and ears when they can’t. To keep them safe. They’re putting their lives on the line and they’re relying on you.”
Her brows lifted and her hands balled in to fists at her side. “What’s left?” she asked incredulously. “You want to know what’s left to play out?”
She stepped from behind the console and wedged herself between him and the wall screens. She was too pissed to notice how close she’d gotten. She made it a point to always stand at least an arm’s length from anyone. She didn’t like to be touched.
Her fingers moved fast and furious across the screen, pulling up the image she wanted. And then she slapped her hand against it to drive home her point.
“They’re what’s left,” she said, her chest heaving. “These are the nine men who almost died in the line of duty because their team leader refused to follow my orders.”
“Instructions,” Brady corrected coolly.
“Fine, instructions,” she said. “The fact remains that they’re still there, and they still need me. You don’t have to tell me what my job is. I just listened to a man die. I know what the hell my job is better than anyone.”
His nostrils flared as he tried to get control of his temper, and he took a couple of calming breaths.
“What’s their progress?” he pressed.
This wasn’t the Brady Scott she knew asking the question. This was Brady Scott, the SEAL commander. The seasoned veteran who’d seen and done more than most people could hope to in a lifetime.
She rolled her shoulders back and reined in her temper. She was going to have a hell of a workout later. That’s where she got out most of her anger. She never let the others see when she was affected by something, and she didn’t know why she was acting so out of character now. Maybe because Brady was acting different.
“I don’t know because I’ve been fending off your attacks since you entered my workspace. Let me do my job,” she repeated.
Brady nodded and tried to smile, but the tension was etched on his face.
The MacKenzies had made her feel safe since her rescue seven years before. They’d given her a home. And a family of sorts, though she’d never accepted the invitations to gatherings they’d invited her to. Her father was dead, killed by the same cartel that had destroyed her, and her blood family was scattered and few and far between.
Someone like Brady Scott would never truly know what it meant to be alone. He was as much a MacKenzie as those that had MacKenzie blood. His brother Brant was married to Darcy MacKenzie, and his sister Bayleigh was married to Cade MacKenzie. So Brady felt comfortable enough coming and going from the MacKenzie compound, just like he’d feel comfortable questioning her ability.
She’d never be able to repay the MacKenzies for their generosity. But she wouldn’t take the blame for something that wasn’t her fault. She’d spent years trying to understand that what the cartel had done to her wasn’t deserved. She’d been the one to turn over information about the cartel
to the MacKenzies, and the guilt ate at her. Her father was dead because of that information. It had been hard for her twenty-year-old mind to understand that her rape was not punishment for his death.
She realized how close she was standing to Brady, and she quickly put distance between them, making her way back behind the console. He was too big. Too overpowering. And there was something about him that frightened her on a level she didn’t understand. She’d been dead inside since the cartel had taken her innocence, but it was hard to remember she was dead inside when he was around. There were sparks of something—she just wasn’t sure how to categorize it.
She chewed on her top lip and debated whether or not to apologize. Titus’s death had shaken her. He’d been so defiant, and he’d paid the ultimate price. And there was part of her that wondered if she could’ve done more to save him, could’ve handled it a different way.
“Look,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t mean to be a jerk. I just wasn’t expecting any of this when I came in. I thought the mission would be marked as a success, and I was going to try to persuade you to go to lunch with me.”
“You know I always say no,” she told him.
“You’ll change your mind one day if I keep asking,” he said with a confidence that made her want to shake her head. “But truly, I’m sorry. Focus on getting those guys out of there. They’re what’s important right now.”
Elena exhaled in relief and felt things shift back to normal between them. As normal as they could be. She never let anyone get too close, but Brady had wormed his way into her life, so he was a common fixture, as if he was supposed to be there. Though she’d often go months without seeing him if he was on assignment. But he always took the time to find her—a soft word or a funny joke—an invitation to lunch or dinner that she never took him up on. He was always just…there. And more often than not, he was there when she needed him most. There to hold the punching bag when she needed to let out her anger. And there to lift her spirits when she’d relived her torture during the night. She’d come to rely on him in ways she hadn’t realized, and their current exchange had shaken her.
Only a couple of minutes had passed since he’d entered her domain, but it felt like too much had happened in such a short amount of time. She focused back on the screen, back on the agents on the ground who needed her.
“If anyone can do it, you can,” Brady said, opening the door to leave. “I’ll see you at the briefing.”
She nodded and felt something catch in her throat. Just a small word of encouragement and she felt like blubbering like a baby. She was losing her mind.
The door eased shut and the room returned to a dim, cool chamber of electronic activity. She knew the confrontation had cost her valuable, life-saving moments. She tuned back in to the radio network controls so she could hear transmissions from the other team members.
“HQ to Alpha Team,” she dispatched. “Status report.”
Silence…
She’d seen them there only moments before—nine red blurs hiding in the rock crevice. It was possible the thickness of the rock wall was limiting their radio coverage.
“HQ to Alpha Team, respond.”
“Alpha Two,” a familiar voice said, though the words were broken by static. It was Murchison.
“Status, Alpha Two?”
Nerves danced in her stomach as more static came over the comms. She reached for the bottle of water to wet her dry throat.
More static came over the line, followed by Murchison’s voice again. “Narrow,” she said.
“The basin opening?” Elena asked for clarification.
“Very narrow,” Murchison repeated.
“Shit. Can you breach through?”
“Please,” Murchison begged. “Send help. We need help.”
Elena felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as the line to all comms went dead. Her link to Alpha Team was gone, and they were all alone. She’d sent them to their deaths.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”
Chapter Two
Declan MacKenzie paced the spacious conference room like a caged tiger. He caught his reflection in the large mirror at the end of the room and his gray eyes shimmered silver with anger. The scar that ran across his jawline was stark white. No one would know he was angry unless they knew him well. He was relaxed beneath the expensive suit he wore, though his skin vibrated with the heat of his rage.
He hated suits. But when he’d left field ops and started MacKenzie Security, he’d understood the need for his image to change. People didn’t feel comfortable investing millions of dollars in a company where the president wore BDUs and a thigh holster, even though that’s certainly how he was most comfortable.
He stopped pacing and ran his hand over his closely shorn hair. The carpet was thick and a deep gray. And pale gray walls were stark with the exception of two paintings that had been used for payment on a particularly difficult mission.
He’d spent a day in meetings, and his head was pounding. All he wanted was to go home, forget about the day, and bury himself deep inside his wife. He’d had to leave early that morning to make his first meeting, and he’d been surprised as hell when he’d gotten a text during that meeting of his wife wearing nothing but a pout on her face. She hadn’t liked that he’d left without waking her up properly. To say the rest of that meeting had been spent uncomfortably would’ve been an understatement.
Sophia had been making noises recently about having another baby, and he was more than happy to accommodate her, but he was worried she was putting too much strain on her body and her time since they already had a two-and a three-year-old running around the house.
He’d never known he was capable of the kind of love he had for his wife and children. Sophia was the light to his darkness, and he’d never have really lived without her. And he found that the more he loved her, the more his priorities had shifted. He had a duty to his country to keep it safe. But his first duty was to his family, and he’d do whatever it took to keep Sophia happy. And if that meant keeping her pregnant for the next ten years, then that’s what he’d do. The core of the MacKenzies had always been family.
He’d been on his way home to make things up to his wife when he’d gotten the alert from Elena about the loss of Titus Dean. Things had gone downhill from there once he’d started receiving the reports.
Now he was stuck in a conference room waiting on his agents to show up and tell him about the clusterfuck that was the Somalia mission instead of making love to his wife.
His brother Shane was the first to arrive. Shane had been a Navy SEAL commander before he’d lost his leg in an explosion a couple of years before. It hadn’t been an easy road to recovery, and Declan had to give a lot of the credit to Shane’s wife, Tess, just for her pure determination and unwillingness to let him give up.
There was no doubt when you looked at any of the MacKenzies that they were related. They all shared the dark hair of their father, and the boys were all about the same size, though Cade was a couple inches taller than the rest of them.
Shane was a different man than he’d been two years before. Declan had spent many nights wondering if they’d lose him after the loss of his leg had taken away the career he’d loved more than anything. But he’d battled back, and MacKenzie R&D had given Shane the opportunity to try a prosthetic prototype.
As Shane walked down the long hallway toward the conference room, it was impossible to tell he was missing a limb. His stride was as cocky as ever, and there was no limp. His mouth was quirked to one side like it was when he had something amusing to share.
“Whew, you look pissed as hell,” Shane said, clapping him on the shoulder and entering the conference room.
“And I thought I was hiding it so well,” Declan answered. “What has you in such a good mood?”
Shane’s mouth twitched again. “It’s my day off. Or it was my day off until you called me in. I went fishing with Dad this morning, and then had a long lunch wi
th Tess.”
By the relaxed posture and stupid grin on his face, Declan was guessing they did more than have lunch.
“How’s Dad?” he asked.
The last year had been hard for all of them after losing their mother to enemy hands. But there had been a time after her death when they thought they might lose their dad too.
He and their mother had truly been one, and when she’d been killed part of him had died right along with her. They’d barely gotten her buried when their robust, larger-than-life father had a heart attack. He’d survived, but his spirit wasn’t the same, and Declan couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know what he’d do if anything ever happened to Sophia.
“He seemed okay,” Shane said. “He likes to keep up to date on the parts of the business we can talk about.” James MacKenzie had been a career Marine, and since his retirement he’d turned to running the MacKenzie ranch full time, with the help of various family members. “He just needs to keep busy. Though he said he barely has a moment’s peace all day. Someone is always stopping by the house to make sure he’s taken care of. He said he never realized how many damned grandkids he had and that we should learn to keep it in our pants.”
That made Declan grin, because it sounded exactly like their father to say something like that. “Which is why he’s got five kids himself.”
“That’s what I told him,” Shane said, smiling. “And then he laughed and told me that MacKenzies weren’t meant for celibacy from their wives. He said in another hundred years we’d probably have populated the whole state of Montana.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Declan said. “Sophia wants another baby.”
“And I’m sure you’re so against giving her one,” Shane scoffed.
“Not at all,” Declan said. “I’m more than happy to do my part to populate the state.”
“Well, you’d better get busy. You know it’s more fun when all the cousins are the same age. Tess and I were going to announce at dinner tonight. She’s about three months along.”