by Melody Anne
“The bastard isn’t getting away,” Ace said.
He jumped to his feet and fought his way through the chaos of the mansion, trying to avoid being shot as he hunted for Anton. There was no way after all of this that he was going to give that man freedom. And Ace knew if Anton got away, he would hide, making it virtually impossible for them to find him again.
“Got him, Ace. He’s in the back of the house. Agents are closing in. Don’t blow your cover.”
“Thanks.”
Ace might not want to blow his cover, but he wanted to see the takedown, that was for sure. He took off in the right direction, being able to travel through the place with blinders on if he needed to. He’d familiarized himself with his surroundings, knowing this fight was going down.
Another bullet flew past him as he turned a corner, this one ripping the fabric of his tux. Shouts of pain and anger could be heard behind him. More police and agents were swarming the house as the fight continued.
“We’re getting control of the situation, Ace. Stay out of the fight,” the agent in his ear commanded. The man knew him well, and knew it wasn’t easy for him to back down.
Ace didn’t need to reply. Finding Anton was all he was focused on at the moment. He made a left and then halted. Anton was standing against the west wall in the kitchen, firearm in hand, his eyes wild as he looked around him, agents surrounding him. Ace edged closer, still staying out of sight even though it nearly killed him.
“Do you really think you can get away with this?” Anton snapped.
“We already have, Anton. You can leave this place in cuffs,” an agent said with a smile tilting his lips, making him look quite feral, “or you can leave in a body bag. The choice is yours.”
“You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” Anton snarled.
“I’m not going to lie to you. I think this world would be a much better place without you in it,” the agent told him. “But I also want you on trial, where the families of the victims you’ve terrified for decades can see you get what you deserve.”
“That won’t ever happen,” Anton said with a leer. “A man like me isn’t so easily captured.”
“Give it up, Anton. It’s over,” another agent yelled. Ace’s feet were twitching with the need to jump into the scene and take this man down.
“I will kill everyone who has ever crossed your path,” Anton promised as he glanced at the men moving in even closer.
“You will do nothing more than rot in prison,” a man told him.
“Go to hell,” Anton shouted.
“You first,” the agent replied, a mocking smile pulling up the corner of his lip.
Ace watched Anton’s finger twitch on the trigger of his gun before a shot rang out, barely missing the agent in front of him. The agent no longer hesitated as he fired on Anton, dropping the man to the ground.
The agents rushed forward, instantly kicking away Anton’s gun and covering the wound to the man’s chest. They all wanted to see him face a jury. But they had known his death in this battle was a definite possibility.
Anton screamed curse words at the agents as blood spat from his mouth. The wound could be fatal, which wasn’t what Ace needed or wanted. He wanted him in court, facing his crimes.
“Don’t let him die,” Ace snapped into his earpiece, still staying out of sight. Let Anton think he’d been shot. “This bastard will face his accusers in court.” Ace’s leg hurt, but he didn’t have time to analyze if he’d been shot or not. He was too focused on the man on the ground—so close, yet so far away.
“He’s not going to make it,” one agent said.
“Get him out to the ambulance. He doesn’t get an easy out,” Ace told the agents, who nodded while they spoke into their mics. The danger still wasn’t over, but Ace lowered his gun. The guy he’d been chasing for four years had been shot. Ace could soon go home. But now wasn’t the time to relax.
Even so, he was tired. Ace was far too young to be this exhausted. But this sting operation was indeed over. It was time to figure out what he was going to do next. He stepped up to the back door when someone behind him shouted. Ace turned in time to see Anton with his finger on a black remote that he must have slid down from the sleeve of his jacket. Why hadn’t the agents frisked the man?
“Good-bye,” Anton said before an evil chuckle escaped his throat.
“Stop him,” Ace shouted, forgetting about staying out of sight as he took a step toward Anton. But it was too late. Everything blurred as Anton’s laughter was amplified in the small space.
An explosion erupted, sweeping Ace off his feet. Hot fire burned around him; his skin felt like it was boiling before he slammed back down to the floor, his head cracking on the hard marble as his body flopped like a rag doll and the lights went out.
CHAPTER TWO
Dakota Forbes wasn’t a meek woman—not by any means. And when she wanted something, she had no problem going for it. Yes, sometimes she was impulsive, and yes, that could certainly get her into trouble—once in a while. But without a little danger, life was too dang boring.
She smiled as she sat back at the small airport—in the cool zone, the place only those with a special badge got to be. She didn’t know why that made her feel haughty, but maybe it was because she was somewhere the average person couldn’t access. She watched small aircraft lift off into the sky and then land again. It was utterly mesmerizing.
Yes, this might be another impulsive decision, but the joy in her heart, and the itchiness in her body, told her it was the right one. She stood up and moved inside the hangar, where Sherman was speaking to a young teenage boy with hair too long and eyes filled with excitement. She probably wore the exact same expression he did.
“Okay, you go out and chop some of that hair off before we get started. A pilot needs to be able to see,” Sherman told the boy, who eagerly nodded.
“Will do, sir,” he said before he turned around and spotted Dakota.
The boy smiled at her before he began walking, and she had to fight to keep her laughter in when the teenager added a bit more swagger to his awkward gait. She was used to teenage infatuation. She was a cheerleader for the Seattle Seahawks, after all—at least for one more season.
Though it filled her heart with sadness, knowing her time with the Seahawks was almost up, it was a day she’d known was coming for a while. She was almost twenty-seven, and playtime was over. Now, she needed a career she could do for the rest of her working years.
Looking in front of her at the slick red plane with smooth curves, long wings, and crystal-clear windows showcasing leather upholstery, she couldn’t help but sigh in enchantment. She had made the decision to become a pilot.
Her brothers all flew, and she’d shown a little interest when she was younger, but not enough to take the lessons she’d been offered. At that time in her life, cheering was her passion. Now she was finding a love for something else.
Maybe it was simply that she needed to do a job that caused her adrenaline to pump, and something that couldn’t pigeonhole her. People often thought of pilots as men, but she was there to prove she was just as capable as any man, if not more so. She would work harder, put in more hours, and kick some ass at becoming a pilot. Soon, she’d be flying the biggest and baddest planes out there.
Okay, when she wasn’t in dreamland, she could admit that it might take a little while for her to work up to the big planes, but that wasn’t going to stop her from getting there someday. She wanted to step onboard a huge plane with four stars on her shoulders. She would double dare someone to call her a flight attendant. A smile of anticipation curved her lips at even the thought of it.
“You look like I did the first time I laid eyes on a plane,” Sherman said as he sneaked up to stand next to her. “Of course, way back then, in the olden days, my plane sure wasn’t as pretty as this one,” he added with a laugh.
“You really like to milk this wise-old-man thing, don’t you?” Dakota said with a laugh. She actually didn’t k
now Sherman’s age, but if she were to guess by his eyes alone, she would put him at twenty-one. They had a youthful sparkle in them that automatically made her smile and want to draw closer to him.
Dakota was from a great family, but that didn’t mean her heart didn’t have room to draw more people into her circle, and men like Sherman were one in a million. She was so glad her best friend had married Sherman’s nephew, ensuring Dakota would have him in her life forever.
“An old man has to do whatever he can,” Sherman said, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips. “So, you want to become a pilot?”
“Yes!” she said, excitement screaming from her. “I should have done this years ago, but then again, I don’t think I would have given it the proper attention back then. I’m now ready to be the best pilot in Seattle, maybe even the world.”
“I have no doubt you will achieve whatever you set your mind to,” he told her.
“You know me well. I don’t quit,” she assured him.
Sherman laughed. “No, I’ve learned that for sure,” Sherman said. “And I love your determination. You will do well with this endeavor, and lucky for you, I’ve found you the perfect trainer.”
“Great!” Dakota told him. “When can we start?” She was ready to do it right this minute.
Sherman laughed again. “Slow down there, Turbo,” he told her. “I’m going to send you home with materials, and I’ll let you know when you get to do your first lesson.”
“I knew I wouldn’t be flying today, but . . .” She trailed off, unable to take her eyes from the beautiful plane in front of her.
“Don’t you worry. It won’t be long,” he assured her. “And you know what?” He trailed off, making her want to jump up and down.
“What?” she said when he didn’t continue quickly enough.
“I don’t think you’re the kind of girl to be in a slow plane. I think you can handle an upgraded model.” They both stared at the plane in front of them.
“Oh, yes, please,” she said. “I will study every aspect of it, and I’ll be safe,” she assured him.
“I have no doubt about that,” he told her with a pat on her back.
“Can I stay awhile longer and watch the planes coming and going?” she asked.
“Of course. I have a few more things to do,” Sherman told her.
He moved over to where he had a desk and cabinets and pulled out several items. He handed them to her, and then he walked back over and sat down. She took the handful of material and moved outside, sitting down in a nice grassy place in the sun as she began devouring it all—that was, when planes weren’t taking off or landing.
They were in a small airport in Washington away from Seattle, which Sherman assured her was a much better place to train than SeaTac, where it was way too busy. After a long lapse of time, she moved back inside the huge hangar and went over to a wall where a bunch of photographs were proudly hung.
She got caught up with one picture. She knew it was the missing brother—Ace Armstrong. It was taken when he was young, and a boyish smile filled his face as he stood before a plane, wearing a ripped shirt, holding up a piece of the worn cotton with the date on it to commemorate the event. His first solo flight.
There was so much happiness in his eyes. She knew from what she’d been told that he’d been away for a really long time, and the family didn’t know why. She suddenly wondered what his story was and what would make him want to leave the loving embrace of his family. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.
After too much time, she shook her head, forcing herself to look away. Dakota had a thing for people in need. She didn’t understand why, but she’d been that way since she was a young child and had found a small boy at the playground who’d fallen off the monkey bars.
She’d immediately gone up to him and assured him all people fell off once in a while. When he’d gazed at her with those crushed eyes, looking as if he didn’t believe her, she’d climbed the monkey bars and purposely fallen, spraining her ankle, which she hadn’t intended on doing. Graceful falling wasn’t in her DNA.
But when he’d smiled at her, she’d known it was totally worth it. Sometimes a little bit of pain was needed to heal someone else. She’d never looked back from that moment on, constantly driven by the need to make others happy.
She had no problem making herself happy as well. And deciding to become a pilot was making her incredibly joyful. It was a new day, and she was more than ready for it to begin.
CHAPTER THREE
Pulling from what could only be described as a deep sleep, the first thought Ace had was how he’d never thought about how loud silence could be. Tuning in, he heard the ticking of machines and the quiet breathing of people around him, and he knew for sure that silence was louder than screams.
He wasn’t alone, which automatically made him tense as he tried to remember where he’d last been. He chose not to open his eyes, giving him time to assess the situation. He had to figure out exactly where he was and who was with him. His head was throbbing—his body aching in unbearable ways—but he couldn’t focus on that right now. First, he had to understand his surroundings. He had to figure out if he was safe or in danger. There always had to be an escape plan in motion.
“Is he waking?”
Ace tensed. He tried not to, but he knew that voice—knew it well. It was his uncle Sherman. Oddly, he felt a strange stinging sensation in his eyes. Irritation flooded him. Ace Armstrong didn’t cry—not ever! He refused to let such a weak emotion fill him. But knowing his family was with him made his fight-or-flight response instantly dim.
The stinging stopped, and he made sure he didn’t move, not so much as his pinkie finger. He concentrated instead on his other senses. He smelled strong antiseptic and heard monitors pinging. He listened beyond the silence, and he could hear voices in the distance, outside the room he was in.
It was a hospital.
He wasn’t in danger. Good. That gave him more time to figure things out. His uncle Sherman was there, and Ace was sure he wasn’t alone. The last thing Ace could remember was an explosion. It had pulled him from his feet and then sent him straight back down to the ground—hard. He tried to assess the damage to his body. It was difficult to do when he was trying so hard not to move.
Wiggling his toes the slightest bit, he wanted to weep in relief that he wasn’t paralyzed. He twitched his fingers and found that his body had many areas of aches and pains, and he might have a cracked rib or two, but other than that, nothing seemed to be broken. Good. That meant he’d be back on his feet again very soon.
But then what? Ace had no idea. The job was done—the job he’d been working on for years. He suddenly had no purpose—and no desire to keep working for the CIA. The only thing the job had given him was isolation. He wasn’t sure where he stood in life, or with his family, but he was tired of being a different man from who he truly was. Not that he knew exactly who he was.
It was time to open his eyes. It was odd how difficult it was for him to do something so simple. But he was afraid to face his uncle, afraid his brothers were going to be there as well. He’d been such a dick to them to keep them safe, and now he wasn’t sure he could turn that switch off.
Ace had long ago learned not to be afraid, though, so he pushed back the feeling of anxiety and slowly opened his eyes to look around the large hospital room. Sherman; his mother, Evelyn; and his three brothers—Coop, Mav, and Nick—were all gazing at him. There was a mixture of emotions inside him at the sight. On one hand, he’d been avoiding them for so long that it was ingrained in him to run—to keep them safe. On the other, he missed them—was glad they were there.
“Good to see you awake,” Sherman said, drawing Ace’s eyes to his favorite uncle.
“How long have I been out?” he asked, surprised by the croaking in his voice. Ace cleared his throat and focused his attention on his brother Cooper. For some reason, he was having a difficult time looking any of them in the eyes. He blamed it on
whatever the hospital was pumping into his system. He assured himself he would be back to normal very soon.
“We got a call late last night. You’ve been out about twelve hours,” Sherman told him. He then frowned as he stared intensely at Ace.
“What?” Ace asked, grateful some strength was coming back to his voice.
“Don’t you think you should have told us you are in the CIA? We’ve been worried about you,” Sherman said. The man had a way of making Ace feel like he was a thirteen-year-old boy again, getting caught behind the family home making out with the caretaker’s daughter.
“My position was classified,” Ace told him.
“We’re family. That trumps everything,” he said.
“We thought you were in some serious trouble,” Nick said, making Ace look in his brother’s direction. “You could have come to us.”
“No, I couldn’t. The case I was working on was dangerous. It could have gotten you all killed,” Ace told him.
“You could have had a safe haven to come home to,” Cooper pointed out. Ace turned but was afraid to see the judgment in his older brother’s eyes. That’s not what he saw. It was almost worse, because Cooper was looking at him with acceptance.
He’d been such an ass for so long, and his brothers were still there for him. Ace didn’t know what to think. He again blamed the damn medication the hospital was giving him.
Pushing the button on his bed, he raised it so he wasn’t in such a vulnerable position. When he was sitting up, he felt the aches and pains in his body, but he was strong enough not to need the crap filtering through his veins. He reached over and ripped the IV out, making Maverick jump from his seat.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Maverick snapped as he grabbed the sheet and held it over Ace’s now dripping arm.
An alarm went off, and a nurse ran into the room, approaching the bed and reaching for him.
“Don’t touch me,” he told her. She froze where she stood and looked around the room. It was filled with large men who must seem pretty dang intimidating. She took a step back.