by Casey Hagen
“Tonight, we’re figuring out how to get her back. We’re not waiting for the police to give a shit about a woman who’s been a thorn in their side for a good decade. She’s not going to be some number in their backlog. These men are her best shot at surviving, and you just assume I’m happily throwing her to the wolves because it’s easier than being her brother?”
Her cheeks heated with the flush of mortification. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he asked.
“I might have heard that before,” she muttered before biting her cheek.
He stepped into her space, crowding her, surrounding her with his warm, spicy cologne. “You have a mouth on you.”
She jutted out her chin. She wouldn’t back down. She wouldn’t be intimidated. Not by him. Not by anyone ever again. “I’ve heard that, too.”
“Hmmm, I bet you have. You don’t know when to keep those pretty lips of your shut and your ears open. You have no patience.”
Her lips parted on a sharp intake of breath at his sensual words before a rush of temper flooded through her. “No patience? I’ll have you know—”
The words died when his mouth closed over hers. His warm lips commanded her attention, and his chest swelled with the ragged breath he sucked in his nose, all while he tasted her, nipped at her, and locked his hand on her ponytail, holding here there against him.
Not that she tried to break free.
Nope.
She laid her palms on his chest and ran them clean up over those hard shoulders of his and held on for dear life.
All the worry, the tension, the sheer agony of the role she had played in those kids’ lives coiled tight and screamed for release through the underlying pull of attraction swelling between the two of them.
His warm tongue slid along hers, and a growl vibrated in his throat. God, she’d swear she felt it all the way to her—
“Oops.”
They froze.
He’d wound her ponytail around his one hand while the other had not only slid down to cup one cheek, but his long fingers rested on the seam of her jeans where it disappeared into the heat between her legs.
His warm breath fanned over her lips as their heavy breathing mingled between them.
She fought the urge to press her thighs together, but lord have mercy, when he slid his finger away, the sensation rocked her right to the tips of her fingers and toes despite the sound of Ashton’s voice crashing over them like Niagara Falls in January.
“This can’t happen again,” she whispered, the words thin and lifeless with total lack of conviction.
“It won’t,” he said, taking a step back.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, meeting his gaze and the storm tumbling in his eyes.
“I don’t believe me, either,” he said before turning away and heading for the kitchen.
Chapter 9
“So, Ashton mentioned she walked in on a little something out there,” Dylan said as he slid a piece of pizza onto his plate.
The guys from Fierce had filled his house within minutes, along with their wives, girlfriends, and in Dylan’s case, children. Dylan made the introductions and the minute he finished, Kinsley had ducked into the den to gather up Tyler and Brielle.
And hide.
Oh, she was definitely hiding.
Not that he could blame her. He’d held a tight rein on his libido for the better part of a decade, never getting deeply involved with anyone, and instead enjoying the occasional flash of attraction that flared to life, but quickly burned out long before he ever even took off his clothes in their entirety.
He’d perfected the art of getting a nut off without getting naked.
Because he had secrets. He had pain-filled memories that kept him awake at night, that kept him vigilant despite living a civilian life, and made him wonder if he’d ever find a shot at normal again.
Christ, he hadn’t tasted a woman’s lips since before, long before, the enemy captured him and changed him forever. He never let himself get that close, that intimate, not with anyone. Now, in just a few short hours in Kinsley’s presence with her warm scent of ripe pear following him, wrapping around him, and fucking with both heads, he’d dropped a grenade on the wall he’d built around himself.
Not that she’d crossed over the rubble to invade his man-made prison. Nope, he’d walked right out and snatched her up as though he had some sort of right to the sweet taste of her mouth, to her soft skin under his hands. Hands forever stained with the blood of enemies he’d killed.
He’d mar her. He had no right to pluck her from the comfortable world she lived in just to drag her into his darkness and agony.
“It was nothing,” Zane said, watching Kinsley shuffle in the kitchen with his niece hugging her tight, her skinny arms wrapped around Kinsley’s neck and Tyler pressed to her hip as he scanned the people in the room.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. From that guy. And that guy. That one. And yeah, that guy over there, too,” he said, pointing at each member of his team. “Hell, I’ve even said it. Want to try again?” he asked just before biting into his slice.
“I slipped. It won’t happen again,” Zane said, looking away from Kinsley as she pressed a reassuring kiss to Brielle’s head.
They were a job to her. Nothing more. Nothing less. He’d do good to remember that. If he could just make himself believe she was some callous bitch who cared for nothing more than saving her ass with the county, he might be able to keep his hands off her.
She just needed to stop stroking Brielle’s hair and whispering to her because every time she did, with every act designed to calm, she looked less and less like the professional that had crashed his living nightmare and more like a woman made to have babies, to nurture children, to soothe their pain and make them believe in good again.
“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that, too. So, who is she?” Dylan asked.
“She’s the social worker,” Zane said, leaning against the cabinet and crossing his ankles, going for relaxed when he was anything but.
He resisted the urge to smile at the sound of Dylan choking on a mouthful of mozzarella next to him.
“I don’t even know where to start with that,” he coughed, pounding his chest with his fist. “What the hell is she doing here? And you are aware of what we’ll be discussing tonight, right?”
“Yes,” Zane said, watching smiles light up Tyler and Brielle’s faces as Kinsley helped them choose two slices each. There was no way Brielle was going to fit in that much food, but from the looks of it, she couldn’t decide which kind she wanted so Kinsley let her have anything that she laid hopeful eyes on.
“Well, I should tell you now, we don’t have much to go on with your sister. My guys are working on it. Tex is on it. They’re gathering pieces, but they don’t have anything for us to work with yet.”
“Time is running out,” Zane said.
“I know, and we’ll have something soon. We just don’t have it quite yet. Look at it this way, we won’t have to lay all of that out in front of her. She’s going to see it as vigilante justice, no doubt,” Dylan said.
He grunted in response. Maybe she needed to see that part of him. The part that would spill the blood of every last person who’d had a hand in hurting Tyler and Brielle, in hurting his sister. Then, if he reached for her, she’d turn away for sure. She’d keep him on the straight and narrow path to a sound ending with no complications.
Only, it felt more like with each passing moment, she was backing him to the edge of a cliff, and at the bottom of the ravine? Every last thing he ever imagined for himself, for his life, for love…
Before.
Was this waking up?
If it was, it fucking ached worse than lying in that hospital bed, his ribs exposed, his skin curled and cauterized, as he prayed for death.
This pain didn’t just fill his every cell, it wormed its way into the recesses of his mind, places he’d kept under
And if it was, who the hell asked Kinsley to step into his life and do it?
“I recognize that look, man. Easy. Put it away for now and tell us about what you have planned for the facility,” Dylan said.
“Not having second thoughts on me yet?” Zane asked, his jaw tight, his hands locked in fists at his sides, worried that Dylan was doing just that.
For the first time since he’d left the military, he’d gotten a taste of the brotherhood again and how that bond could exist in the everyday world.
Dabbling in that craving had him painfully wishing for more.
“Not a chance. If anything, watching you protect those kids no matter the cost, solidifies it even more for me. Come on, fill us all in,” Dylan said.
“I’ll do you one better,” Zane said, unclenching his teeth, the release of pressure on his jaw sending a rush of pain through his skull. “Gather the guys around the table, and I’ll show you.”
Not giving a shit about pizza, Zane headed for the laptop in his office. In this, his career, his programs, he had confidence. He welcomed the sweet relief of being sure of himself, sure of his skills while he fought the constant tug of sacrificed dreams.
When he got back to the kitchen, he found Dylan, Slyder, Cole, Evan, and Jake sitting around the table, their women next to them, and Kinsley—gone.
Well, it was better that way.
“Kinsley and Ashton took the kids into the other room to read for a bit,” Dylan said.
Was he that fucking transparent, or had they already begun pulling him into the fold, their heightened senses honed during their time as SEALs, keeping in tune with one another and drawing him in like a pig to a trough full of kitchen scraps?
“Uh, good. That’s good,” Zane said, opening his laptop. When was the last time he’d been knocked off balance? He couldn’t remember, but the feeling—it filled his belly with a sense of disquiet that being on home turf couldn’t even assuage.
“Actually, if you guys don’t mind, I think I might just go in and join them,” Destiny, Jake’s wife, said. “Not that I don’t think this will be a brilliant presentation, but this little one has me running to the bathroom every few minutes, and I don’t want to interrupt.” She smoothed her hand over her gently rounded stomach and laughed when Jake turned to her, pressing a kiss to their child with a secret grin.
“They’re still in the newlywed stage. Don’t mind them,” Slyder said, hitching his thumb at the easy affection.
“Hey, at least they’ve hit the newlywed stage with actual vows,” Nebraska, Slyder’s er—partner, said beside him, her narrowed gaze boring a hole into Slyder’s temple.
Slyder grinned at Nebraska and leaned in to whisper something in her ear that had her cheeks flaming red and her lips parting on a sigh.
“Jesus. What the hell is this, some sort of lovefest? I’ve been waiting to see what this guy has up his sleeve, and you guys are flirting like you’re on a damn double date,” Cole interrupted.
“Says the guy who’s got his hand so far up Josie’s thigh that he’s one step shy of performing a sex act in front of the whole group,” Evan muttered.
“But I’m focused. That’s all that matters,” Cole said.
“Yeah, because you know Josie would shoot you herself if you stepped out of line,” Dylan said.
“Okay, he’s not wrong,” Cole said to Zane.
“Guys, shut the hell up and pay attention,” Josie said, giving them all a hard look. She waved her hand to Zane. “The floor is yours. Better get a move on before they get riled up again.”
They were a family. Not related, but a family no less. And not just of the military variety, but they’d incorporated their private lives into their brotherhood and it—well, it worked.
“Okay, first, in the spirit of full disclosure, I’ve applied for the patent on this but had no real intentions of using the technology until I was well into the process, but your project can’t wait for the patent application to slog through bureaucratic channels. With that being said, welcome to Spectred.”
With a series of clicks along his computer keys, he stood back and smiled.
Six sets of eyes scanned the room. Before long they were turning in their chairs and craning their necks, searching.
But not finding one damn thing.
“What am I missing?” Evan asked, standing up.
Zane’s computer beeped three times, and a slight vibration rippled through the cell phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and started reading. “Evan. Six foot two and one-eighth, two hundred seven pounds and four ounces. Skull measurement of twenty-two centimeters. Waist measurement of thirty-two—”
“What the hell?” Evan whispered, his mouth falling open before he dropped back into his chair.
Slyder’s eyes shot wide. “How did you do that?”
“Is it accurate?” Dylan asked.
“You want to know his body density?” Zane asked with a confident smile.
“Uh, do I?” Dylan asked.
“You sure as hell do if you want to be able to confidently confirm his identity, although, his density in the stomach region is a bit off after eating half a pizza,” Zane said, flicking off the lights and clicking a key on his keyboard.
“Hey,” Evan complained.
“If you know how many pieces I ate, keep it to yourself,” Josie said.
Zane laughed, the room plunged into darkness, and hundreds of lasers in blue, red, and yellow danced throughout the room, locking on the heat of human bodies and roaming over the features.
Measuring. Always measuring.
“Holy shit,” Cole whispered, waving his hand in the air, drawing the lasers to the contour of his hands.
“Sorry to interrupt, but—” Kinsley’s words died, and she froze in the doorway.
Zane typed a quick command into the keyboard, and the lasers winked out a second before the kitchen lit back up.
“What did you need?” Zane asked, not quite able to look her in the eye as a wave of self-consciousness he hadn’t felt since high school coursed through him. Goosebumps rose on his flesh, his skin tingling with the sudden exposure and awareness.
“Drinks. Uh, the kids need refills,” she said, searching the corners of the room as though she’d find the source of the lasers.
She wouldn’t. No one would.
He’d made sure of it. Just about every single security system in the world screamed its existence with clunky mechanics and invasive tools.
Not his.
“Go ahead,” he said, noting the fear etched into the tense lines around her mouth and the suspicion in her eyes.
“Um, okay. Don’t stop on my account,” she said, scurrying across the floor to the fridge.
“How is this the best system for the facility?” Jake asked.
Jake’s question forced him to discuss specifics in front of her. Specifics of something he spent hundreds of hours developing and hundreds more actually building. Everything about him, his motivations, his fears, they’d all been immersed in this security. The irony of the elite protection he’d developed leaving him exposed to her didn’t escape him.
He turned his back to her and pressed on. “Everyone in the building is scanned and measured. No passwords, no fingerprint recognition, and none of this one door opens at a time protocol like in a prison. The problem with rehabs, shelters, and family therapy centers on the scale you’re talking about is that they have outdated security that leaves the families, the children especially, feeling like their moving about in a prison. I’m assuming you want the families you take in to feel at home. Or at least as at home as possible. You’ve saved them from one prison; don’t put them in another,” Zane said.
His neck burned and with the sensation, he knew Kinsley’s eyes had locked on him. The curious son of a bitch inside who’d stolen a taste of her wanted to turn and try to read what she was thinking by the look in her eyes, her breaths, the set of her shoulders, but that road only led to another taste.
Another touch.
“But people change from day to day. Women have their hair up, hair down. We gain weight, lose it. How does it recognize us through those subtle changes?” Slyder asked.
“It’s always scanning. These lasers never stop. I shut down the lights so you could see them in action, but in the facility, they’re invisible. They’re recording every form of measurement throughout the day, through the body changes. Think of the optical fabrication technology used in 3D printing. Now times that capability by a thousand. No one can infiltrate the grounds of this facility without you knowing it. They couldn’t even Mission Impossible that shit and drop in through a duct; these lasers would detect them right away and know they don’t belong there,” Zane said.
The guys chattered, their excitement tangible, all but Dylan. Dylan had gone still, his eyes assessing, never leaving Zane for a second.
“Why did you design this?” Dylan said, his voice low and dangerously serious in a way that silenced the rest of them and had them all turning to Zane.
“To keep people safe,” Zane said.
Dylan pushed to his feet and approached Zane, his gaze never once wavering. “This isn’t about money or security. You took cutting edge tech and supersized it. That took money. An obscene amount of money. How? Why?”
Zane sucked in a harsh breath. “Leave it alone.”
Dylan’s lip curled, and in that moment, they shifted from allies to adversaries. “You want me to trust you. Be honest.”
A low buzzing rose in his ears as the memory tried to suck him back in. Alive and well, images reared up, and the sharp sting of a blade sliced through him, cutting so deep that the metal scraped his rib bones vibrating through his exposed body cavity as his captors laughed. “Because I’ve been concealed in the dark and at the mercy of torturers. My government didn’t have the eyes and ears to know what they were doing to me. What they took pleasure in doing to me.”
“You’re still living it,” Dylan said quietly.
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