He couldn't be that man. Wouldn't be that man. His life revolved around the Wind Warriors, fighting the baddest of the bad behind the scenes and in the dark, with only a handful of people knowing their existence. Men he would give his life for, as they would for him. That was his career and sole focus now and would continue to be. Wives and children were a cherished novelty and rare as a flood in the Sahara Desert. The nomadic group never settled in a single spot for long, dashing off immediately with the ring of a phone, having no set work hours or schedules, just whatever it took to get the job done. Their work, though necessary, often claimed their lives and their sanity. Hardened veterans, they saw and lived through too many things for any of them to retire to polite society. A normal job would never do for any of them. Instead, they thrived on adrenalin and challenge, constant change and seclusion.
All former military, they could return to those ranks if they were desperate enough and decided to swallow their independence and abilities in order to be puppets to whichever commander they would be stuck under. Insubordination and individual actions weren't part of the military life. But in Wind Warriors they could excel, having the clearance to do what they thought best with no questions asked. A flexibility that most men craved, a paycheck to compensate for all the inconveniences and hazard pay, along with access to all the newest and greatest weapons produced across the world.
What else could a man ask for?
Lily.
The kind of woman a man would give anything to come home to, stand in her arms, and soak up all the love and comfort she could provide. To spend the rest of their lives knowing that love did exist and they could share decades of exploring that love, reveling in it, and passing it on for future generations to be a part of.
With a heavy sigh, Cale trudged toward the house, filled with contradiction and indecision. No matter how much he lectured himself, he couldn't find an answer for the woman that stuck in his head like superglue.
Chapter 8
Stepping back into the house, Cale sniffed deeply, drawing in the scents of simmering stew and cornbread, along with a freshly baked blueberry pie, which sat on the countertop cooling from the oven. In the background, the washer and dryer cleaned clothes while the dishwasher hummed, polishing the dirty dishes from earlier meals. His stomach growled at the enticing aromas while something near his heart clenched in a sure feeling of rightness.
A man could get used to this. He certainly could. After years of survival on the run, coming home to dinner and a warm woman that loved him would be more than a dream. It would be paradise.
He shook off those thoughts, looking around for Lily. She sat on the couch, holding a stick with a piece of material attached, making it jump and dance as the kittens leaped and grabbed in obvious delight of play. A small grin popped out, not just from amusement watching the babies, but at seeing Lily finally relaxing, sitting instead of her usual dashing here and there through the house, doing one chore after another. No doubt about it. She worked hard.
"Where's Dillon?"
She looked up from her task. "On the phone with Della."
Anger shot to the fore. Dillon knew better. No communication rules during a job existed for a reason. The men they sought weren't dumb or ignorant. They could easily pick up a cell phone tracer on any of their lines and follow them to the source, either to the Wind Warrior himself or to the person they spoke with. Frowning, he turned toward the bedroom, prepared to read his brother the riot act for putting them as well as his girlfriend in absolute danger.
Lily's face morphed from happy greeting to bafflement before something clicked in her mind. "He's using my cell phone. I offered. After all, she would want to know he's okay. I would if I were in her shoes."
Cale's eyes snapped back to her, his mouth falling open before he shut it again. His moment of temper vanished immediately. They should be safe using Lily's phone. Dillon didn't take advantage and ask. Thus, he could only chalk it down to Lily's kindness and innate ability to read beneath the surface. A potentially deadly skill if she didn't possess the goodness he saw in her over and over again. With a sigh, he relaxed onto the couch beside her, absently stroking Hope when she climbed on his lap, purring loudly.
"Please don't be mad at him. It was my suggestion and offer. I thought it might help him feel better and recover faster, getting to at least talk with the woman he loves." Lily bobbed the stick again. Charity grabbed the end of the cloth with teeth and nails, refusing to let go of her prize. Faith batted at her until Lily found a toy mouse, tossing it near the black and white spotted kitten, watching her smack it and chase it around on the hardwood floor.
He couldn't argue with that logic. "It's okay. And, I think you are right. It will do him good to talk to her."
Lily continued to watch the babies. "He told me she's an elementary school teacher."
Cale nodded, not really surprised Dillon had spoken of Della to Lily. She had a talent for weaseling things out of a guy.
"They hope to marry soon. Settle down. Raise a family."
"Yeah." He knew all that a while back.
"You don't approve?" Lily glanced up.
He shrugged. "I like Della. She's a good woman that I think can make Dillon happy. I really wish them the best."
"But…" She pressed him for more.
He waited until Hope turned a couple of rounds before settling comfortably in his lap, tucking her front paws under and closing her eyes. "I worry what kind of job Dillon will find. It's not like he can mesh back into polite society easily. He needs excitement and challenge. We all do."
"We?"
Debating on how to answer that question, Cale took a long breath. "We. Others that do the same kind of job. It's not nine to five, no holidays, no weekends. It's a go from the moment the phone rings until the job is done. Then you re-group and head off to the next one."
She nodded. "What exactly is it you do?" The words whispered from her lips, as if she considered not speaking them at all.
He debated for a moment, then gave her a truthful answer minus details that she didn't need to hear. "We are a small group of men that are paid to ferret out particularly nasty criminals and capture them." Send them to Hell was more like it. But he didn't want her expression of interest and trust to turn into one of disgust and repulsion. No. He needed her acceptance, her trust, the look of mindfulness of his maleness when she thought he didn't notice. Once he received those precious gifts, he stubbornly refused to return them, holding them protectively like a child with a favored Christmas present. Cale watched her features closely, as his words soaked in.
One of her hands reached over to his, twining her smaller fingers with his. Softness descended over her face. "Unfortunately, someone has to do it. If you didn't, I fear the world would become a darker and treacherous place."
His shoulders slumped in relief at her quick approval.
"I can only imagine the dangers you and Dillon must face. It has to be doubly hard on Della." She looked down, whispering beneath her breath. "I'll worry about you, too."
One large hand reached over to cup her cheek, turning her head until her eyes met his. Leaning in, he brought their lips together, seeking the pleasure and sweet taste he savored once before. She returned his attentions, sending fire directly from his mind down to his groin. With a low moan, he opened her mouth with his own, slipping his tongue in for a deeper taste.
Lily drew a ragged breath, but allowed his explorations, giving back, as she shyly moved to run her tongue across his.
That simple action spurred his libido. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he tugged her closer, as he reclaimed control of the kiss, pushing for greater depth, starving for another taste of sweet essence that belonged solely to Lily. Ambrosia. Her tentative responses reminded him to focus on slow and steady even as they heated his blood to a frenzied state. She could burn him to a pile of ashes at this rate. If her kiss was this hot, what would it be like to lay her down on the king sized bed, spread out for him to see and appr
eciate? His engorged cock would spear inside, separating those glorious, glistening, pink folds on his way to the promised land.
"Earth to Cale."
Dillon's voice broke into his erotic daydream.
Lily pulled back, face flushed from passion or embarrassment, or a mixture of both. Cale hoped it was the former.
Tearing his gaze from Lily, he glanced at his brother. Dillon stood behind the couch with what could only be called a shit eating grin on his face. So much for keeping his feelings for their host under wraps. "Don't you have someone else to bedevil?"
Dillon chuckled deeply, looking first at Cale then to Lily before returning once again. "Nope."
Cale snorted, shifting to ease the tightness below.
"If you will excuse me, dinner should be done." With that said, she retreated.
Cale glared at his younger brother, frustrated with the inopportune interruption. "What is it?"
"I thought the poor girl needed to come up for air." Dillon's wicked grin told the real story.
Dillon would never pass up a chance to give him a hard time. That was the job of a younger brother after all. He was going to kick Dillon's ass for interrupting them and sending Lily scurrying off like a wild filly at the first glimpse of a cowboy with a saddle.
"I think you must like her." Dillon's whisper carried to Cale's ears.
Not liking the topic of conversation, Cale ignored him until Dillon plopped down beside him and elbowed him hard in the gut. His low growl didn't deter the kid, either.
"She's a good woman. Reminds me of Della. Someone a man can come home to, who will be there for him, and love him to pieces."
"We're leaving after Thanksgiving." The tone brooked no argument.
Dillon grinned. "Then you better get in gear, big bro. Not much time to make that pretty girl yours."
A scowl formed on Cale's face. "I… can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"We're leaving… soon. She doesn't deserve to be left broken-hearted with no hope of a relationship. She needs a man who will come home every night, shower her with kisses, and hold her through the long cold nights." His own words sank deep, hitting him like a punch to the gut. Damn it. It's true. I want to be that man. "She needs more than what I can offer. A life on the run with no rest or safety. That's no way to raise a family."
"Why not you?" Dillon questioned again.
Throwing his arms up in frustration, Cale faced his brother, barely noticing when Hope jumped down, obviously uncomfortable with his jerky motions. "Have you forgotten what we do? How dangerous it is? Not only for us, but for anyone linked to us? How can I play with her emotions, run off, leaving her alone and unprotected, while I do my job, perhaps never seeing her again?"
Dillon's lips compressed once more. "You don't think I've considered each and every one of those arguments before? Believing that Della would be better off finding another man with a more stable lifestyle? Let me tell you something she told me that makes a hell of a lot of sense. None of us know how much time we have on earth. She would much rather be with the man she loves, for however long she gets, than to go through life wishing for something that could have been. Della is strong. So is Lily. They understand and will face fire to be with the men they love."
Cale savored those words for a long moment, considering the message being pounded into his head. With a sigh, he laid his head back on the couch, running one large hand through his short hair. "I can't bear to see anything happen to her. Not to mention Lansing is still out there." Still whispered, the words carried more emotion than he would have preferred.
Dillon slapped him on the shoulder in an age old sign of support. "I know." He paused for a beat before continuing. "I'm considering retiring."
His head jerked up, staring at his brother in shock. "Really? Since when?"
"Since I've been serious with Della. It's true she will accept whatever decision I make on the job, but I want more for her."
"So, she's talked you into quitting?" Cale frowned at the thought.
Dillon shook his head. "No. I haven't even mentioned it to her yet. It was just an idea, considering my future. Our future. Truth is, I want to be there with her, come home to her smiling face, spend the nights cuddled up instead of freezing my ass off in the mountains, laying in a snow bank, and waiting out a hit."
Cale nodded, then confessed. "I've briefly thought about it, too. But what other job is there to do for us? We aren't cut out to work nine to five, sitting on our asses in a cubicle."
"I'm not sure, but I've been giving it some thought. Perhaps there is something in the organization without being on the front lines or with another agency. Heck, even being a local cop is possible. I just need to do a bit of research, but, I know there has to be something. Other men have left and settled down."
For the first time today, Cale felt a weight shift on his shoulders, not relieved of a heavy burden quite yet, but definitely lighter. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make this work. Dillon intended to. If he could maneuver into a similar position but with local ties, he could be close to Lily. Pursue this budding relationship, watching it and her flower with his attentions.
Quickly chastising himself, he stomped down that possibility. It was an ideal solution in an ideal world. He didn't live in that. Reality came up to bite you in the butt when you least expected it.
"Ready to go court the young lady in the kitchen?" Dillon teased, standing with both crutches for support.
Cale rolled his eyes. "We're outta here. Soon." Anger laced his voice. He quickly stood and turned.
Dillon shook his head. "You wouldn't know what's good for you if it stood there staring you in the face. Besides, have you considered that Lansing's crew might have stumbled across our ditched car? It won't take a genius to track us here. Once we're gone, Lily is vulnerable."
Cale's gut clenched at the thought of what those men would do to the shy and innocent woman that took them in. For helping them out in a bind, she would suffer as no one should ever have to. Just the thought of those men touching her stoked a deep seated rage. Fury rose up flashing through his veins. He shot Dillon a glare before stepping from the room.
Cale drew in a deep breath, forcing calmness over his raging emotions. Cool it, seaman. Losing control signed your death warrant in his business. In order for him to protect Dillon and Lily, he needed to focus rationally, not go off half-cocked. He would think of something. He always did.
He forced a smile when he entered the kitchen, determined to shield Lily from his caustic mood and sincere worry that killers would show up on their doorstep at any minute.
Chapter 9
Charles Lansing slammed his fist down on the table in sheer frustration. His lucrative arms exchange went to hell in a hand basket when those military types showed up and killed two of his best men. Blind luck had saved his life and a couple others when they ran late to meet for the exchange.
ATF? Maybe. It didn't matter. He worked too hard for too many years to build his weapons trade business on the black market for anything to get in his way now. Word of mouth carried far. If other customers heard even the barest whisper that he couldn't provide the items promised or that the government was hot on his trail, they would look to his competitors to fill their orders. He couldn't have that. He wouldn't have that.
Toby, his best tracker and computer expert spent nearly every minute since the ambush trying to find out information about and locate those that were responsible. They knew one man had been shot. He would require medical attention, so Toby had methodically scoped out hospitals small and large, searching inpatients and emergency rooms in five states, seeking anyone with a bullet wound that would meet the criteria. Nothing as of his last report this morning, but something would turn up. It had to. He could be patient a little longer, after all the risk and reward were both high. It was a game of kill or be killed. Revenge and retaliation.
He wasn't stupid enough to believe that whatever group these two men were with would simpl
y walk away, leaving him to conduct business in peace. Oh, no. They would do everything in their power to see him six feet under. It's the same determination he possessed toward them.
He would track them down, corner them, and kill them like a rabid animal.
"Sir, we have a location." Toby dashed over. "We found their abandoned vehicle. Tracks and blood drops lead toward Cooperstown."
A slow smile slipped out. Finally.
Pulling some maps out, he placed them on the large desk, scouring over them for the destination. A pencil jotted down supplies they would need and potential areas of interest.
Most rural areas had a family doctor. They would start there. Find the doctor, follow the trail. Kill the vermin where they lay in hiding.
Only then could he go back to the business of shipping his highly specialized and powerful weapons to those that had the money to pay for them. He didn't care which side they were on or even which country they resided in. All he wanted was the money, the riches he accrued from those deals. After all, entrepreneurship and making money was the American way.
Grabbing what he needed, he placed a quick call to his remaining men. Rounding up everything, they quickly left the base, with a destination of Cooperstown.
* * * *
Several hours later, all three men sauntered into the Cooperstown Diner, seeking two things. Hot food and information.
A handful of customers spread over the small room before them. Choosing a somewhat isolated table in the back where they could watch the door, Charles sat down. All three glanced over the room, catching the eye of the waitress dressed in an old fashioned pink dress complete with white apron.
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