by Susan Stoker
TJ lurched forward. “What?”
“Is he all right? Was anyone injured?” she asked, her heart strangely lodged in her throat.
Knight shook his head. “No one was inside. It was parked in the driveway.” A line etched between his brows. “I offered help on several occasions, but the stubborn fool turned me down. I was prepared to let him handle his family’s business, but not now. Not when one of my agents is threatened. That’s why I’m sending you, Tarah.”
She straightened in her seat. “Yes, sir. What do you want me to do? Help him investigate? Protect him and Remy? Does he have a list of names I can start on?”
“No.” Knight stared at her. “He doesn’t know you’re coming. Exactly.”
She cocked her head and frowned. “What do you mean?”
Instinct told her she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Rook doesn’t want any help, but he’s getting it anyway.”
“I don’t understand.” But she tensed her shoulders because she had a sinking feeling she did.
“I got him to agree to help me with a protection detail.”
Shit.
“Today, at noon, he’s expecting Tarah Swanson, witness to a mob hit.” He thrust his finger toward her file. “It’s all in there.”
“Oh, look, sis, you’re a schoolteacher from D.C.” TJ flashed her a grin. “Wow, you really are tough. Some of those districts are rough.”
She ignored her brother and skimmed the next page in the folder. Her page.
“Memorize your profile,” Knight said. “Rook has never met you, and you need to lay low until we can assess the fallout from Serrano, so this is a win/win.”
TJ’s snicker echoed through the empty warehouse. “No, bossman, it’s priceless. Rook thinks he’s protecting Tarah from mobsters, when Tarah is actually there to protect Rook from this unknown bomber.”
“Protect, and investigate.” Knight sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I need you to equip Tarah with a burn phone, and one of those bracelet communicator things you gave Nikki.”
“Will do.” TJ sprang to his feet and disappeared into his pit.
She was thrilled to have an assignment, but hated being dishonest to a fellow agent. With determination setting her shoulders, she turned back to her boss and opened her mouth.
“No, Tarah. It has to be this way.”
Damn man was a mind reader.
He leaned closer. “Rook made it very clear he didn’t want help. But he’s getting it anyway.”
“Surely, once I arrive and introduce myself, he wouldn’t turn me away.”
Knight’s lips split into a grin as he barked out a laugh. “The man is stubborn as hell. And a former SEAL used to relying on himself. He’s damn good. I trained him that way. So, no, he would not think twice to toss you over his shoulder and carry you back on the plane.”
She’d like to see him try.
But kept the comment to herself.
“I’m sorry to put you in this position, Tarah, but you’re going to have to pretend to be that schoolteacher, do what Rook tells you, all while guarding his six.” His brows drew together. “Can you do that?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course, sir.”
At least she sounded surer than she felt. But, Rook was one of them, and she’d lay down her life for Jameson, Lisa, Sam, Brooke, TJ, Nikki, Sharon, and Knight’s youngest daughter Kenzi. So, the same would hold true for Rook.
“Good. Now, you’d better get ready. Brooke is due any minute. You fly in thirty.”
Which left her little time to prepare.
She nodded, gathered her file, and headed to wardrobe to pick out schoolmarm clothes. If only she knew what the modern day teachers wore. Five minutes later, she returned to the common area, suitcase in one hand, and a carryon bag loaded with her weapons, ammo, and a few gadgets.
“Looking ever so lovely, Ms. Swanson.” Her brother approached with a grin. “I’d leave you an apple for sure.”
She snickered. “Who you kidding, TJ? You’d eat it and leave the core.”
“True.” He laughed. “How about I give you this instead?” A silver bangle bracelet dangled from his hand. “You do remember how to use this, right?”
She held out her wrist. “Yes. And I know it’s waterproof, fireproof, and bulletproof.” Her brother and Kenzi had designed the gadget to be inconspicuous, but effective for communicating when a phone wasn’t an option.
He slipped the pretty gadget on. “Just remember, my heart is always in the right place.”
She laughed. He referred to the medium-sized heart, which housed a mini, fully functioning smart phone. She lifted up on tip-toe to kiss his face. “I know it is.”
“So, how perfect is this? You’ve never met Rook, so you can go undercover to protect the big guy.”
She wouldn’t call it perfect. More like unfortunate. Despite having never met, she knew enough about Sam’s friend to know the former SEAL wouldn’t appreciate deceit.
And she was stuck right in the middle of it.
*
As the Gulfstream taxied to a stop, Tarah glanced out the window at the private north Texas airstrip. Clear blue sky, desert, tumbleweeds, a small but decent hangar, and one building in the middle of nowhere. Perfect. Just the sort of location one would expect an agent to hand over a witness.
Brooke emerged from the cockpit with an arched brow. “Ready to play damsel in distress?”
Tarah smirked as she rose from her seat and stretched. “Yes, although, it’s not exactly my favorite persona to assume. Still, as far as assignments go, I’ve drawn worse.”
By far the deadliest and prettiest of all Knight agents, her dark-haired friend strolled closer and grinned. “Guarding a former Navy SEAL? Yeah, I’d say you could do a lot worse. They put the S in stamina. And from what little Nikki divulged of her time with him, Rook has it in spades.”
She had to admit, she was quite curious to meet the man who’d helped one of their fellow agents through some tough times last year. He had to be special for Nikki to befriend him. “Whatever he has, I’m just glad the guy helped her overcome her past and move on to reunite with Cage.”
Brooke’s dark ponytail bobbed with her curt nod. “She deserves to be happy.”
“True.” Nikki was now re-engaged to her former fiancé, and starting up a satellite office in Florida.
Knight Agency was spreading out.
“Same goes for Rook.” A fleeting smile ghosted her friend’s lips.
Unease whispered down Tarah’s spine. She shook it off. Brooke Hudson didn’t do secrets. The lethal beauty was a black and white, up front, hard-nosed agent.
This business with the damn shooting last week was making Tarah paranoid.
She straightened the hem of her blue floral blouse and smoothed the creases from her white capris. “That may be, but I’m not here to get to know Rook in that capacity. I’m here to keep him and his brother safe, and to find and eliminate the threat to their training ranch.”
“Without either of them knowing,” Brooke added.
Tarah grabbed her suitcase and the carry-on containing her weapons from the small cabin closet. “I know. That’s why this suitcase is loaded with frillier clothes. Rook thinks I’m a school teacher targeted by the mob for witnessing a hit.”
Brooke snickered. “Yeah, you look like the poster child for Sears. He’d never suspect you were the one who took out Serrano.”
She recoiled. “I had no choice. Bastard turned his gun on me.”
Not her finest moment, but kill or be killed, she’d followed protocol. Their boss hadn’t been happy, but he hadn’t chewed her out over it either.
“Hey, I’m not judging.” Derision tugged her friend’s lips. “In fact, if it had been me, I would’ve taken them all out.”
Tarah slung her purse over her shoulder and laughed. “If it had been you, there’d be nothing left of the whole Serrano family.”
“True.” Brooke opened the exit door and
lowered the steps before grabbing the big suitcase. “Looks like Rook just pulled up. You ready?”
To investigate the threat to a ranch where agents trained? Yes.
To finally meet Rook? Yes.
To pretend she was afraid and needed protection? No.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She adjusted the strap of her carry-on and followed her friend from the plane.
Careful to remove traces of confidence from her stance, she fell into character with a hunch of her shoulders, slight furrow to her brow, and huddled close to Brooke on the tarmac.
A lean, broad man unfolded from the truck and shoved a black Stetson on his head.
Holy Texans.
Her pulse leapt in an unprofessional manor.
The epitome of a cowboy, the tall man lumbering toward them with broad shoulders and a strong jaw covered in a delicious five-o’clock shadow was born to wear a cowboy hat. And he wore it well.
Tan, no doubt from hours under the unforgiving Texas sun, he approached in well-worn cowboy boots and jeans with creases in the most delectable spots.
Even more mouthwatering was the SEAL in him. Powerful and confident, he strode with an underlying lethal refinement that bespoke of a past full of adversity and triumph.
She understood why Nikki had trusted him. Envy pierced her chest. He was magnificent.
A gray T-shirt stretched across a muscled torso that rippled as he walked. Wave after wave of awareness skittered down Tarah’s body and grew stronger as he neared.
This wasn’t good. In fact, it was bad. How was she supposed to remain detached and unmoved when she could literally feel his presence like invisible fingers caressing her skin?
In a good way.
Dammit.
Talking her body out of this unwanted attraction was essential.
A lot of yoga was in her near future.
“Brooke. So nice to see you again.” He stopped and leaned in to kiss her friend on the cheek.
Of course he’d have a sexy voice to match the persona. Low, with a deep rumble she felt clear to her toes.
Meditation. Meditation was in her future, too.
“You too, Rook.” Brooke gave a genuine smile she reserved for only a select few.
Another indication this man was exceptional. Not only had he touched Brooke without permission, he lived to tell about it. No one dared get near the deadly agent without her consent, unless they had a death wish.
He turned his attention to her. Two seconds under his intense blue gaze and she felt naked, sized up…confused.
“You must be, Ms. Swanson. I’m Callahan Lawe, but my friends call me Rook.” He thrust out his hand and, the instant his warm, strong fingers curled around hers, the strangest thing happened. All her misgivings disappeared. “You’ll be safe here.”
No. She was beginning to realize safe was the last thing she was around this potent cowboy.
She cleared her throat and tugged free to brush her tingling palm down her hip. “Th-thanks, Rook. I hope so.”
At least the stupid quiver in her voice lent credence to her character, and seemed to remove some of the reservation from his gaze.
“I know Swanson isn’t your real name.” He continued to scrutinize her. “But the commander never told me your first name.”
“Tarah,” Brooke offered. “It’s her real first name, but we feel it’s safe to use, especially since you two are supposed to be engaged.”
“What?” She reeled back, her heart thudding loud in her ears. Knight never told her that.
“Relax.” Her friend grabbed her left hand and shoved a ring on her finger.
Where’d the rock come from?
Brooke grinned. “How else would poor Rook explain your sudden appearance at his ranch?”
Tarah blinked at the large diamond gleaming on her finger. It felt foreign and strange…just like her. “I hadn’t thought about it, but surely he could’ve said I was the new cook or something.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He smiled and tipped his head. “Already have one. Old Burly has been with us for two decades. He’s more like family, and he’d be right upset if we sent him away to bring in a beautiful woman.”
He thought she was beautiful?
An unexpected warmth spread to her extremities and seeped into her face. Shoot. She had absolutely zero control over her body in his presence. Which explained why she allowed him to take the carry-on from her hand. A good agent never let her weapons leave her side.
She reached for her suitcase, but the damn man grabbed that too.
“Safe travels,” he told her friend. “Tell Commander Knight we’re good here.”
Brooke nodded, then turned to her. “You’ll be safe with Rook. Just do whatever he tells you.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, ma’am. I promise.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. Somehow, she knew he’d keep her safe with his last breath. But what about her heart? Overexposure to this man and the strange chemistry zinging between them was a huge problem.
But, dammit, she was a professional assigned to keep the former SEAL safe. Playing the role of his girlfriend would place her in close proximity and allow her to do her job without his knowledge.
She nodded to Brooke, then followed the cowboy to his truck.
Pretending to be his fiancée was a good set up, considering Rook had refused help from her boss, even though the threat to his ranch was real enough to send his brother to the hospital with a broken shoulder and concussion.
During the first few quiet miles of their drive, Tarah used the time to study her surroundings. More desert and tumbleweeds. Nothing new or threatening.
A second later, the cowboy pulled to the side of the deserted road and cut the engine.
She twisted to stare into a hard, intense gaze. All traces of the friendly cowboy were gone.
Her heart rocked. “What’s wrong?”
“You,” the SEAL replied. “Something is off. What are you hiding?”
Chapter Three
‡
Tarah’s hysterical snort echoed through the cab.
It gave credence to her cover, and…well, the bugger slipped out before she could swallow it down.
Rook’s eyes narrowed further.
She blew out a breath and shook her head. “Of course I’m hiding stuff. My identity. My whole life.” She waved a hand between them. “Take your pick.”
Sad part was, it was all true.
Which the SEAL must’ve sensed because his narrow-eyed, soul-searching assessment stopped, the engine started, and once again, he pulled onto the deserted road.
After a good ten miles of silence, she glanced at him for the third time, wishing she could treat this assignment like her others. But it was different. Very different.
He was different.
And so darn attractive she couldn’t stop staring at him. The man had a great profile, all sharp angles and strong jaw—clenched tight, like his grip on the steering wheel.
She wondered briefly what it would feel like to have those big, strong hands gripping her tight. A shiver of awareness spread down Tarah’s arms and fluttered her stomach.
Nikki had been one hell of a lucky lady.
“You don’t have to be afraid to speak.” He turned to her with a friendly warmth entering his eyes.
The cowboy was back.
He grinned. “I don’t bite.”
“Darn.”
His head snapped back and eyes widened.
Shoot. She said that out loud.
Tarah broke eye contact as heat infused her face. “Sorry, it’s been a rough week.”
Another truth.
“It’s all right. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
Her heart tripped. “You think I’m—”
She swallowed a curse, slapped a hand over her mouth, and closed her eyes.
His deep chuckle filled the cab, and sent goosebumps down her neck.
Great. She was mortified and turne
d on.
He must think she was a complete idiot.
More truth. At least, around him. She needed to get it together. Her only consolation was all her stupid, ruffled nervousness helped her cover. But, she needed get her head on straight and work the case.
Both Rook’s and his brother’s lives were in danger.
She dropped her hand and turned to face him. “Well, on the bright side, I just proved you can’t die from embarrassment.”
His gaze met hers, and he laughed.
He had a great laugh. Deep, like his chuckle, but strong and full. And the blue in his eyes really lit up to mesmerizing proportions.
Working with him would be great if she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t…although, so far, she hadn’t pretended a bit.
She really was an idiot around him.
“So…um, thanks for letting me come to your ranch.”
He smiled and his gaze held a measure of compassion. “Of course. And don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I think it’s admirable that you’re testifying. I know it’s not easy. I testified in a drunk driving case a decade ago.”
Her thoughts immediately shot to her mother. She cleared her throat and decided, since he was in a talkative mood, it was good time to fish. “Mr. Knight said you were on leave taking care of some business at home. I’m sorry to intrude.”
He turned onto another long two-lane highway with open range on both sides and a house cropping up here and there. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just here helping my brother while he recuperates.”
“Oh, wow.” She widened her eyes and cocked her head. “Is he hurt?”
He shrugged, returning his attention back on the road. “Remy fell off a ladder and broke his shoulder.”
She winced. “Ouch. I heard that’s one of the most painful breaks.”
“He’s tough. He’ll handle it.”
He didn’t elaborate, just drove a few miles in silence, so she tried again.
“How will he handle the fact you’re bringing a fiancée home?” The ring glistened under the sun streaming into the truck as she made a show of staring at the large rock.
It was beautiful, but felt heavy. Strange.