by Vicki Hinze
“Or hurt you so bad you forget it ain’t fixed.” Sam groaned and rubbed his stomach. “Mark, don’t do it, bud. I can’t handle cayenne right now.”
“Let me guess.” Tim bit back a smile. “You got here yesterday, which means you spent the day at the center today, which means Peggy and Nora have already juiced you because you’re too hardheaded to remember not to curse around them.”
“At least three times—so far.” Nick hiked a thumb toward Sam. “He either loves jalapeno tea or he’s a really slow learner.”
“He’s not slow, he’s pigheaded.” Mark corrected Nick, looked at Tim. “Should I put cayenne in it? It might cover the, um . . .”
“Too-well-done smell?” Tim suggested, stretching for diplomacy while walking around the bar. He peeked into the pot at the lump of black sunk in a swirl of dark brown gravy that resembled a decent mud puddle. Oh, boy.
“It’s charred, pure and simple.” Mark looked desolate.
“It is that.” Was there a word for beyond charred? Oh yeah, Lisa, you definitely hate cooking. “Why don’t you just tell her it’s burned?” he asked Mark. “She’s a doctor, she knows burned when she sees it.” Tim hiked a shoulder. “We’ll order a pizza or something.”
Nick shoved his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and growled in Tim’s direction. “Are you crazy?”
“Crazy?” Tim glared at Nick. He’d ditched his tie but had worn a deep blue suit. Blue, black, gray—that was the extent of Nick’s color palette, and for style it was suit, tux, or camo. He rarely had been spotted in anything else. “What’s crazy about ordering a pizza?”
Nick grumbled out his frustration, then spoke up so everyone could hear. “She’s a black belt, genius. Think.” Nick thumped at his temple. “You’ve seen her take down bigger men, and you want to tell her her food isn’t fit to eat?”
“I ain’t telling her spit,” Sam said. “Upset Lisa, and Peggy and Nora will burn out my gut-lining for the rest of my life.” He cast an apologetic look toward Mark. “Sorry, buddy. I’d die for you, but getting on the wrong side of those two? I ain’t that brave.”
Sam was one of the bravest, and most underestimated men Tim had ever met. They all were. Spies who spy on spies and fight terrorists off the grid had to be. But like Sam, Tim wasn’t eager to take on Peggy or Nora. Either of the senior women in Seagrove Village was formidable standing alone, not that they ever were. Cross them, and you had to fight everyone else in the village—and the other Shadow Watchers. Nora had claimed them as “her boys” along with the rest of Mark’s personal security staff. No one messed with Nora’s boys and went unchallenged by everyone in the village.
Mark dropped the top back onto the bubbling pot. “I don’t know what this is. I do know it’s burned to a crisp, and I know we’re going to eat it anyway—no pizza.” Mark cut to the chase. “I don’t know how we’ll eat it, but we will. Nobody upsets Lisa.”
The men groaned like they were dying. Tim couldn’t blame them. They all loved Lisa. She was an admirable woman who had gone toe-to-toe with NINA—Nihilists in Anarchy—the team’s archenemy and one of the worst terrorist groups and criminal activists in the nation. They’d come after her with an arsenal. She’d survived interception and abduction, being kidnapped, and an attempt to sell her in a human-trafficking scheme. She could have walked away on the trafficking—the Shadow Watchers had advised her to walk away—but the doc had stayed to help the other women captured and the team to take down the operation. Lisa Harper had guts, and that all the team admired. But they loved her because she loved Mark. He’d never been loved, and he needed it badly.
Lisa loved Mark like Mandy once had loved Tim.
At least, the way Mandy had loved Tim before she’d met Mr. Wonderful and had broken their engagement to marry the man.
Tim’s heart clenched. He stiffened, pushed off the bar and grabbed a carrot, then dragged it through a creamy dip. “We understand, Mark. Upset her and die.”
“I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that, but, yeah, that’ll do.”
Mark would put it exactly like that. He always cut to the chase. Fortunately, he loved Lisa and the team.
While their team had been active-duty, they’d been through hell together more times than any one of them could recall—and even more times since then in their work as off-the-grid security consultants. They relied on each other for everything, including survival, and when someone messed with one of them, they’d better be ready to fight them all. “Don’t worry,” Tim told Mark. “Whatever it is, we’ll choke it down and nobody will hurt Lisa’s feelings. Right, guys?”
“Not me.” Sam repeated, no doubt still visualizing a pepper-charred gut.
“Of course not,” Joe said. “We all adore Lisa.”
In truth, Joe adored all women and they knew it, which made him a virtual woman-magnet. It was as if they sensed that he genuinely respected and appreciated everything about them. That deep sincerity came in handy sometimes and was a nuisance at others. The team put up with it because it was honest. Joe couldn’t deny that part of himself anymore than he could not be cool. Both were in his genes, encoded in his DNA.
“Right.” Nick nodded. “We like Lisa, Mark. There isn’t a man in this room who wouldn’t die for her.”
Like was a strong, positive word from Nick, who was the best man in the world on computers but he always bent to the dark side in everything. And he was right. There wasn’t a man in the room who wouldn’t die for Lisa—or one who hadn’t almost died for her, when her nut of a NINA-connected stepfather had paid a fortune to have her abducted and shipped down to Mexico for resale.
Joe gave Nick a subtle thumb’s up for a constructive effort. “What’s not to like? The doc’s a remarkable woman. Gorgeous, talented, good hearted, and—“
“A black belt.” Mark finished for him and raised an oven-mitted hand. “First man makes her cry is going to wish he were facing her black belt instead of me.”
“Quit threatening us, bro. Didn’t we tell you we’ve got this covered?”
“Listen to Joe, Mark. It’ll be fine.” Tim joined Mark at the stove. “Move over.”
“Why?”
“Recon.” Tim did a little pot-snooping and then set out to brief the team. “Okay, the meat is pot roast. That’s broccoli with something in it that resembles water chestnuts.” He snagged one and crunched down on it. “Definitely, water chestnuts.” Scorched water chestnuts. She didn’t just not like to cook. She hated it.
“Nice work, bud.” Sam slapped a hand to his knee. “Nick, Tim’s taking you down on the investigative identification front. Better watch your back, bud.”
“You’re safe, Nick.” Tim interjected. “I have zero certainty on that one.” Tim pointed to a white open-cover dish with brown-crusted something on top. “Can’t even comfortably speculate.”
Sam studied it, then his face wrinkled in confusion. “Beats me, bud. Maybe it’s potatoes?” He backed off and checked it out from a different angle. “Sort of looks like it might be.”
“With your legendary nose, you can’t tell?” Joe asked, seemingly surprised.
“No way.” Sam shook his head. “The burn smell in here is overpowering everything—even Nick’s gallon of cologne. My sniffer’s all out-of-whack.”
Joe looked closer. “I’d say the big lumps are definitely potatoes. But I’m not making a call on the brown stuff. Not a clue.”
“Morons.” Nick groused. “I can’t believe I put my life in your hands. You’re all dead from the neck up.” He swept the air with a broad hand. “Step aside and let me see it.” Nick rounded the bar to peer into the dish atop the stove. He dragged a tentative fingertip at its outer edge. “Some kind of cheese—or it was.”
“Ah, I got it.” Tim nailed it. “Potatoes au-gratin.”
“Or scalloped potatoes.” Nick returned to his seat at the end of the bar, his back rigid. “Close enough. Mystery solved.”
Half an hour later, the men sat at the table with Lisa. O
ver small talk, they choked down every single bite.
Then Mark noticed Lisa wasn’t eating. “You okay?”
“I'm fine.” She dipped her blond head, avoiding his gaze. “Is everyone finished?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Stuffed to the rafters.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” Tim shot a warning look at the others to drop the enthusiasm about the meal being over. “You worked hard, and we appreciate it.” That was sincere, and the best he could offer.
“Great.” She stood and then gathered dishes.
Sam started to leave the table. She stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Don’t get up yet. We have dessert.”
Sheer panic filled their eyes. Lisa didn’t seem to notice; she stepped out of the dining room and headed to the kitchen.
Sam glared at Tim, his voice a stage whisper. “You didn’t tag dessert. Nobody said spit about dessert. How’re we supposed to know what it is?”
Mark shot him a warning look. “Upset her and die.”
Sam frowned but settled back in his seat. “All I got to say about this is somebody better identify it fast and cue the rest of us.”
Tim and Joe shot each other amused glances.
Lisa returned with plates and a white-frosted cake topped with fresh strawberries. She set them down on the table then went around and pressed a butterfly kiss to each of the men’s cheeks. “Thank you.” She smacked Sam, then moved on to peck Nick, Joe and finally Tim. “How you swallowed that stuff is beyond me. And not one complaint.” She dazzled them with a smile. “You’re my heroes—again.”
Mark frowned at her. “Is that why you didn’t eat?”
“It was awful, Mark. I couldn’t swallow it.” She cut the cake. “Sam, stop freaking out down there.” She glanced to him at the other end of the table. “The strawberry cake is beyond good. I promise.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed like a rock in his throat. “I’m, uh, sure it’s great, Lisa.”
She laughed. “Bet on it.” She cut an extra-large piece and passed him the plate. “Nora baked it.”
Relief flooded his face. “Awesome.”
The village mom-in-chief, who adopted all strays, made great food, including cakes and pies.
Ted, Joe and Mark cleared their throats, signaling Sam not to sound so happy.
Nick, being Nick, kicked Sam under the table.
“Umph.” Sam laid a you’re-a-dead-man look on Nick, then swerved a soft gaze on Lisa. “Um, Nora makes good cakes,” he said, his face flushing. “But I’m sure you do, too, Lisa.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Sam, but you’re a wonderful man.” She kissed his cheek a second time avoiding his backward baseball cap, and then served the rest of the cake. “Congratulations on your Civil War Reenactment. Mark tells me you were the general this year.”
“Sure was.” He laughed. “We still lost, of course, but the kids like it. Brings history to life for ‘em.”
“That’s important,” she said.
Sam sat a little straighter.
“Now,” Lisa went on. “I have a pleasant surprise for you guys.”
Here it came. The engagement announcement. Tim shut out thoughts of Mandy. Memories of how happy for them the team had been when they’d announced their plans. This was Mark and Lisa’s night.
“What kind of surprise?” Nick asked. “You know I’m not fond of surprises, Lisa.”
An understatement if ever Tim had heard one.
“You’ll like this one.” She smiled. “As a reward for your bravery in choking down that mess, I promise not to cook for you anymore.”
“Lisa,” Joe said. “Anything you do is fine with us. We’re here for the company.”
“And I bless you for it. But for the sake of your stomachs and mine, in the future, I’ll stick to sandwiches or we’ll order in.” She shot Mark a sorry look. “I tried. I just can’t seem to grasp cooking.”
“You have many other talents, doc,” Joe reminded her. “Besides, Mark’s a decent cook so it’s no problem.”
Nick added, “We can’t all be good at everything—myself excluded, of course.”
“Arrogance doesn’t become you.” Mark slid him a frown.
“It’s nasty,” Sam said, a twinkle in his eye. “Better keep an eye on your tea, bud.”
That created a stir of laughter. The idea of Nick getting spiked tea struck everyone as hilarious—and likely.
Ah, sweet balance. Tim breathed a sigh of relief. They would get through the meal without Mark killing anyone.
Tim’s phone vibrated at his hip, signaling an incoming text. He removed it from its belt-clip and checked the message.
In trouble. I need you now. M.
His heart dropped to his stomach.
“What’s wrong, Tim?”
“I’m not sure.” He stood up. “Oh, wait. Mark, you have an announcement to make?”
“After dinner, yeah. Are you leaving now?”
“I have to go.” Fear roiled in Tim’s stomach. “The text just in is from Mandy—her secure phone.” He let them see his worry. “She’s in trouble.”
“Oh, no.” Lisa’s fork stilled mid-air. “Our announcement can wait. You do what you need to do, Tim.”
“He doesn’t need to do anything,” Sam told Lisa, then glared at Tim. “She’s not your problem anymore, bud.” Sam sniffed then took a bite of cake. “She dumped you and married Mr. Wonderful. Let her call him to help her out.”
“Here, here.” Nick emphatically agreed, clearly still miffed at Mandy.
“I don’t know if she married him or not,” Tim admitted. “I haven’t seen or talked to her since she broke our engagement.”
“To marry him,” Nick added. He grumbled something under his breath about her having set a wedding date.
“Yes, to marry him and, yes, I heard the date.” Tim’s voice sounded starched enough to compete with Lisa’s potatoes. Joe had spent that day on the phone with Tim, and helped him get through it.
“So, married or not, why’s she calling you and not him?” Mark asked, then sent a questioning look at Lisa. “Wouldn’t you call me?”
“When I was in trouble, I did call you.”
Tim cocked his head, perplexed. “I don’t know why Mandy’s calling me, but she is.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Joe lifted a staying hand. “I have to say, bro, this doesn’t sound like Mandy. She pretty much deals with whatever comes to her on her own. You sure the message is from her?”
“It’s from the secure phone I gave her. She’s only used it to contact me.” In the past. What about now? Tim had no idea.
Joe nodded. “So what kind of trouble is she in? Did she say?” He put down his fork. “Regardless, you need backup. I’m going with you.”
“She didn’t say, so I don’t know what this is about.” Tim rubbed at his neck. “But, you stay here. This could be nothing.” Tim’s mind whirled. Joe was right. Mandy did handle things herself, yet she wouldn’t text him for nothing. She’d never, not once, called him for nothing. “I’ll check it out and, if I need you guys, I’ll let you know.” Tim headed toward the door.
Lisa joined him and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Be careful, Tim.”
“Secure phones to us, just in case,” Mark reminded him.
“Right. Look, don’t worry, okay? Like I said. This could be nothing.” It didn’t feel like nothing. It felt . . . desperate. The Mandy he knew would have to be in lethal jeopardy to contact him after skating out on him—especially after all this time.
Mark sobered. “Ordinarily, I’d agree, but this is Mandy, Tim. It could be nothing, or a whole lot of something.”
He too knew her habits.
“I figured she’d come running back to you long before now, buddy.” Sam helped himself to more cake.
Nick shot Sam a gloomy look. “It’s been eight months. If that’s running, she must have started her return in Siberia.”
“Nine months,” Joe corrected him automati
cally. “What?” Joe shot Nick a sharp look. “Facts are facts. Keep them straight.”
“Facts are facts,” Nick countered. “And, apparently, Mr. Wonderful isn’t so wonderful after all.”
“Nick, ease up. You don’t even know what’s wrong yet.” Mark called for a fair assessment. “She might be married.”
He lifted a hand. “Then surely she would call her husband and not Tim for help.”
“She might call Tim,” Lisa said. “If she knows how good you guys are when someone’s in a jam.” Lisa nodded for added emphasis. “Me? I wouldn’t even think about calling anyone else.”
Nick digested that and then grunted. “But Mandy’s not you. She’s got secrets, Lisa. Quit snarling at me, Mark. She’s always had secrets. Every one of us knows that’s true.”
“Forgive Nick, Lisa,” Tim said without rancor. “He’s still ticked off at Mandy for breaking our engagement and dumping me.”
“Bet on it.” Nick growled. “She broke your heart.”
Fiercely protective. They all were, including Tim. “She did.” No sense in denying the obvious.
“So why are you running off to help her, buddy?”
Tim paused at the door. “We were engaged, Sam. I loved the woman enough to ask her to be my wife. She calls me saying she’s in trouble and, of course, I’m going to help her.”
“Understood.” Mark said, closing the door on challenges to the discussion.
“Report in ASAP.” Joe shouted to Tim’s disappearing back. “She at home?”
“Yes.” Tim stepped out.
Lisa stroked his shoulder, gently squeezed. “Let us know.”
“I will.” Tim nodded and shut the door.
“He’s terrified for her.” Lisa’s heart felt stuck in her throat. Tim was a great guy. Sophisticated, wealthy, charming, an all-around good man who looked as wickedly handsome in a tux as he did in fatigues. “Shouldn’t someone go with him, Mark?”
“He said if he needs us, he’ll let us know.”
“But he shouldn’t do this alone.” She turned a beseeching gaze on him. “Can’t you see that his heart is still breaking?”
“Oh, yeah, I see it,” Mark agreed.