by Kaylea Cross
His teeth were startlingly white in his camo-painted face. “Surprise. Wanted to capture your reaction on video, because this is epic.” He hugged her first, then dragged Braxton into one, slapping his back. “Congrats, man. You’re gonna love retirement. Tate and I promise not to work you too hard in your golden years with RTC.”
Avery shook her head at her fiancé and gave Tala an apologetic smile. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he was hell bent on doing this.” She gestured to the Ghillie suit.
Mason shrugged and looped an arm around Avery’s shoulders, an unrepentant grin on his face. “Didn’t want to spoil the surprise by risking you seeing me. I got some amazing shots of you on the course earlier too.” He lifted the camera. “Angle just now was awesome, by the way. Wait until you see the look on your face when he tells you.”
Tala laughed, so happy she could burst. “You’ve made a memorable event even more unforgettable.”
Rylee turned away slightly, her gaze on someone over her shoulder. Tala followed it to find her coach striding up, smiling broadly, and another man next to him. Tala’s breath caught even as her heart stuttered.
The national team coach.
“Congratulations, Tala,” Harry said, pulling her into a hug as the others fell back to give them some privacy. “That was one hell of a race. I’m real proud of you.”
“Thanks. Were you in on this too?” she asked him, nodding at Braxton.
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”
No maybe about it. He, Braxton and her friends and family had absolutely all conspired together to pull off this surprise, and she loved everything about it.
“You remember Randy,” he said, gesturing to the tall man next to him.
“Yes. Hi.” She shook the hand he offered, a swarm of butterflies doing a nervous loop-de-loop in her stomach.
He gave her a warm smile, his eyes full of admiration. “Fantastic race, Tala. The whole coaching staff is incredibly impressed by your performance, and especially how far you’ve progressed over the last year. So impressed, we’d like to officially offer you a spot on the Canadian Masters National Team.”
Tala cried out, her hands flying to her mouth as everyone around her burst into cheers. A second later, she was engulfed in the center of another ecstatic group hug.
She closed her eyes and stood there in the middle of it, memorizing the moment. Absorbing the sense of accomplishment, and the love and joy of the people who meant the most to her in the world.
When everyone finally stepped back to give her room to breathe, she still couldn’t take it all in. She’d done it. Made the national masters team. The Winter World Masters Games were next year, games specifically for athletes over age thirty. And now her Paralympic dream was within reach as well.
She looked up into Braxton’s face, shaking her spinning head. “I can’t believe it. Can’t take it all in.”
He settled his big hands on her hips, the love in his eyes melting her insides. “Believe it, sweetheart, because you deserve it. You made it all happen.”
Tala grinned and cupped his face between her hands as his mouth came down on hers. She was back in Braxton’s arms, and for the first time ever, he was all hers.
As incredible as it seemed, her dreams were finally coming true. And now she had the man of her dreams to share them with for the rest of their lives.
—The End—
Dear reader,
Thank you for reading Lethal Protector. I hope you enjoyed the Rifle Creek Series. To read an excerpt of the first book in my next series, turn the page.
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Kaylea
Excerpt from
Undercurrent
Kill Devil Hills Series #1
By Kaylea Cross
Copyright © 2021 Kaylea Cross
Chapter One
He hadn’t outrun the past yet. But he kept trying anyway.
The rhythmic slap of his shoes against the cool pavement settled into a monotonous background noise as Bowie jogged up the quiet residential street. All the houses he passed were dark, no one else stirring yet in his neighborhood. Ahead of him, the eastern sky was aglow with the approaching dawn. The early May morning air was cool against his skin, carrying the briny scent of the sound behind him.
Last night his demons had taunted him mercilessly. When the weight of the memories became too much, this was the only way he knew how to chase them away.
Maintaining his pace, he cleared his mind of everything, exhaustion bringing the numbness that finally allowed him to sink into the closest thing to peace he could reach these days. At the top of the hill he circled back along the footpath that skirted the canal as the birds began to sing, the marsh and inlets glowing with the orange and gold of dawn.
His two-story house stood at the bottom of the hill, backing onto the sound. He bent over in front of it to catch his breath while the cool breeze washed over his sweaty skin, staring at the house. Ghosts were waiting inside for him. But at least now he could handle confronting them again.
The quiet of the empty house surrounded him as he entered the small, spotless kitchen. Through the window above the sink, the surface of the canal rippled in the breeze as it flowed past at the end of the dock where his Hurricane sport boat was moored.
It was his baby and he loved being out on the water, but he barely took it out anymore. Going out there alone just made him miss his family more, and the good times they’d had together fishing or racing across the water.
He grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and stood there while the stillness settled around him. It suited him. The solitude. He was meant to be alone. And if he ever needed a reminder of that, all he had to do was glance over at the stained-glass panel hanging in the window beside the French door leading outside.
Against his will, his gaze shifted to it. To the familiar patterns of blues, greens and purples locked together forever between lead lines, the morning light making the pieces glow like jewels and reflecting on the floor and walls.
That all-too familiar hollow feeling filled his gut. So constant he barely took notice of it anymore.
Tearing his gaze away from it, he walked to the French door and stepped outside into the backyard. Immediately it was easier to breathe, the salty scent of the water soothing him as he crossed the back lawn, the dew cool under his bare feet. His steps echoed slightly on the wooden planks of the dock, mixing with birdsong as he walked to the end of it, then sank down to dangle his legs over the edge next to his boat.
A cool breath of air rose from the water, the surface so calm it looked like a mirror. He sipped his chilled water, absorbing the fragile sense of peace, knowing it wouldn’t last. It never did. And soon other thoughts and worries began to intrude. Like his sister, Harper. She was still up north in Boston. He hadn’t heard from her in over a week, even though he’d called and texted. That was unusual, and he couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong.
Gradually the neighborhood began to wake around him, signaling the end of his solitude. He got up and returned to his empty house, the invisible weight settling back in his chest. He still loved this place. Even if the memories it held were bittersweet.
After a long, hot shower, he got ready and drove up the winding road to work. He parked out back of the garage, climbed out of his ’69 Challenger and took a deep breath of the spring air. The warmer weather meant the town of Kill Devil Hills was enjoying the last few days of quiet before the hordes of tourists d
escended on the Outer Banks for the summer.
It also signaled the imminent approach of a painful anniversary he was dreading.
Pushing the past from his mind, he walked into the garage he owned, sliding his sunglasses up on top of his ball cap. The moment he stepped inside, a cool blast of air from the A/C hit him, bringing with it the comforting smells of motor oil and rubber.
Barb, his twenty-year-old receptionist looked up from her phone at the front desk and put on a sunny smile for him. “Morning.”
He’d hired her at the end of the college semester to take care of the phone and scheduling, both of which he hated. She’d work through the summer until school went back at the end of August. Then he’d have to either handle it himself or find someone else again. “Morning. Did that supplier call with the delivery date yet on that part I need for the Vette?”
“Not yet.”
Figured. And he couldn’t do anything else with it until the part arrived. “What’s the schedule like for today?”
“Umm…” She set her phone down and pulled up the appointment program on the computer. “You’re fully booked until noon tomorrow, and only one slot left tomorrow afternoon.”
At least business was steady. “Brian in yet?” His other full-time mechanic, and the only other employee he trusted to do body work besides him.
“Not until ten.”
“All right. Let me know if that supplier calls.”
“Will do.” She picked up her phone before he’d even turned away and started scrolling through whatever she was looking at. But the place was clean and the phone was quiet, so he didn’t say anything.
The garage area was still dark when he walked through the door. He flipped on the lights and turned on the stereo. Classic rock filled the space as he put on his coveralls and gathered his tools for his first project of the day—finishing up an upgraded rebuild on the carburetor of a ’67 Camaro.
He worked on vehicles of all types, but his first love was muscle and classic cars, and over the years he’d built a solid reputation for it. People from up and down the Outer Banks and beyond brought their classic cars to him.
An hour later he stood at his workbench, wrestling with a stubborn, rusted bolt when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
“Damn, how’s a man supposed to hear himself think with all this racket going on back here?”
He straightened in surprise and turned to find his brother standing in the doorway. A grin immediately spread over his face, the lingering heaviness in his chest lifting. It had been a damn long time since they’d seen each other in person. Too long.
He set down his wrench. Chase wore his usual outfit of jeans, a T-shirt and boots, and yet still managed to look like he’d just stepped off a Hollywood movie set. “What the hell are you doing in town?” Last he’d heard, Chase had been on location in L.A. working on a big-budget action movie. He hurriedly wiped his hands on a rag from his hip pocket as his brother crossed to him.
“Wanted to surprise you. Surprise.” Chase gave him a tight, back-slapping hug that Bowie had needed far more than he’d realized, then stepped back to grin at him, the glare of the overhead lights glinting on the golden-brown stubble on his jaw. He shook his head. “Wow. You should talk to management, because I think the boss has been working you too hard. You look like hell, man.”
“I appreciate that, thanks,” he said dryly. “You just come by to hassle me?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I’m in between shoots, so I thought I’d come annoy you for a while during my downtime.”
“Lucky me.” Bowie was damn glad to see him. After leaving the Marine Corps with an honorable discharge, solid skill set and combat experience, Chase was now an up and coming stuntman in increasingly high demand and didn’t get a lot of downtime these days. As a result, he rarely came home anymore.
But just because his brother had showed up unexpectedly didn’t mean he could quit for the day, even if he was the boss. Especially because he was the boss. “I’m just finishing up the carb on this one,” he said, nodding at the Camaro. “Wanna gimme a hand?”
“You gonna pay me for my time?”
He snorted. “Not a chance.”
Chase’s lips quirked. “Some things never change. But all right, since I’ve got nothing better to do and I’m bored, I’ll help y’out for a while.” He grabbed a spare pair of coveralls from a hook on the wall and pulled them on.
“You finished that latest movie yet?” Bowie asked as he bent back over the parts laid out on the workbench and resumed his task.
“Wrapped up two days ago, over a week ahead of schedule. I have to be on location in New York for another one at the end of the week.” He came to the workbench and peered down at what Bowie was doing. “So what’ve we got here?”
Time and distance fell away as soon as they began to work together, and within minutes it was like they hadn’t been apart at all for the past seven months. They’d always worked together well, even back in the days when they used to help their dad on old cars before the heart attack had taken him, shattering their world.
He and Chase slipped back into that same easy rhythm now, his brother anticipating what tool he needed before he could even ask for it. Bowie was solitary by nature, except with family.
His brother and sister meant everything to him. Didn’t matter how long they went without seeing each other. They all kept in touch, and their bond was unbreakable. No matter what else Bowie did with his life, that bond would be the legacy he was most proud of. So Harper’s recent silence was weighing heavy on his mind.
“You keeping busy here?” Chase asked later as he helped install the air filter under the Camaro’s hood.
“It’s been steady.” He made enough to pay all the bills and put some aside for the future.
Not that he got excited about that or the prospect of retiring one day, since work was all he had now. But it was better that way. It’s what he deserved, and he’d made peace with that a long time ago.
“What about you, they doing up a star for you on the Walk of Fame yet?” he teased.
Chase chuckled, holding the filter steady while Bowie anchored the lid in place. “Not yet. Hopefully soon.”
Bowie was damn proud of both his siblings and all they’d accomplished after leaving home. He didn’t regret choosing to stay here while they left to follow their dreams. All he’d ever wanted was to help them realize their dreams and keep their family unit strong. “You heard from Harp lately?”
Chase looked up at him. “Not for about a week now. You?”
“Same.” It didn’t feel right. Harper had retreated into herself since her husband had been killed overseas a little over a year ago, but it wasn’t like her to be out of contact with them for this long.
They stared at each other a moment. “Think something’s wrong?” Chase asked.
“Hope not. Might take a few days off and go up there if I don’t hear from her soon.”
“If you do, let me know. I’ll see if I can carve out enough time in between filming days to meet you.”
He nodded and paused in the act of setting his wrench down on the workbench at the sound of an old motor outside, driving along the side of the garage. He and Chase looked at each other, both of them trying to figure out what it was, an old game they’d played since Chase was young.
Chase pursed his lips in thought. “Mini?”
Bowie shook his head. “Nah. Wrong pitch.”
A minute later Barb appeared in the doorway in her shorts and tank top. She aimed a megawatt smile at Chase, twirling a lock of her long blond hair in her fingers before turning her attention to Bowie. “There’s a lady here to see you about her car.”
“Be right there.” He wiped his hands on a rag and followed her, Chase right behind him. No surprise. His little brother was notoriously nosy.
The instant Bowie walked around the corner and saw the woman in question, his feet stopped moving. Chase was so close behind him he had to veer to the side at the
last second to avoid hitting him. “You forget how to walk or something?” he said to Bowie on a laugh.
Bowie didn’t answer, too busy staring at the newcomer. Because it was impossible not to.
She was a bit younger than him, maybe early thirties, dressed in a black fifties-style halter dress with cherries on it, the fabric hugging incredibly lush curves before stopping just below her knees. Both rounded arms were covered in colorful tats from shoulder to elbow. Her shapely calves were bare, leading his eyes down to the sexy, lipstick-red heels on her feet.
With effort, Bowie dragged his gaze back up to her face. Her long, deep brown hair was pulled back from her face in a red cloth headband, except for a shock of white that fell over the right side of her forehead. Heavy black eyeliner defined her upper lids, emphasizing incredible pale green eyes that had him frozen where he stood. A small gold hoop glinted in the side of her nose, and her lips were slicked with glossy red lipstick.
When he didn’t say anything she raised her eyebrows at him in question. “Mr. Davenport?”
Her accent instantly told him she was from somewhere out west, if he wasn’t mistaken. And shit, he was staring like an idiot. “Yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?” he managed once he got his brain back in gear.
“My car needs some work. She’s old.”
“You came to the right place. I’m his younger brother, by the way. Chase,” his brother said, hurrying forward to extend his hand.
She shook it, gave him a polite smile and then dismissed him, focusing back on Bowie. It surprised him as much as it did Chase. His charismatic, Hollywood-handsome brother wasn’t used to being dismissed by the ladies. “I just got into town a few days ago. When I asked around, your name kept coming up as the best with old cars. I don’t have an appointment, but I thought I’d come by and see if—”
“What kind of car?” Bowie asked, more intrigued by her than the mystery car parked outside. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.