THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle

by Kristina Weaver

  “I’ll tell you everything.”

  I owe it to them and, quite frankly, I’m so fucking tired of this shit it’s killing me. I know I’ll never have a chance with them again, not after what I’ve done. But even without the dream of barbecues with the family I threw away so long ago, I owe it to them to come clean before the government and other Shadow operatives come after my ass.

  Chapter Three

  Jess

  The steady beep of machines is the first thing I hear when I swim back up out of the fog I’ve been in. I want to howl my denial when pain hits me because I know that can only mean one thing.

  I’m alive.

  I don’t want to be. I can’t be. Oh God, please no, I silently plead. My insides go cold at the thought of opening my eyes, only to see my grungy little cell and the evil black eyes of my tormentors.

  I’m so wrapped up in thinking of ways to kill myself before they come back for me that it takes me way too long to register a few very key things. One, the surface beneath me isn’t hard. In fact, it’s so soft I have to stifle a groan of thanks when my aching muscles sink deeper into the bed.

  The other thing that becomes apparent is the smell. One thing I have always hated about the desert is the lack of natural scent, augmented only by the stench of blood and suffering. Oh, and of course my own rank reek, which is not present, I think, breathing slowly.

  And then I raked it all in. Softness. Comfort. Coolness.

  My heart starts beating erratically then, and I hear the monitor go a little nuts when I open my eyes to see a clean room with furniture and knick-knacks surrounding me.

  I move and almost groan when pain hits me. It’s then that I take in the queen-size bed and the view of greenery and trees out the window directly to my right.

  Forgive me my confusion here.

  I’m not in my cell—thank you, Jesus—but neither am I in the hospital. No, this place, wherever it is, is definitely not a hospital. The room is large and painted a creamy off-white that’s soft on the eyes, and the carpet is blue and so plush where it covers a highly-polished hardwood floor that if I could stand right now, I’d body plant on it just to feel it against my skin.

  “Oh good! You’re awake.”

  I start and turn my head to look at the very pregnant woman waddling my way, her face wreathed in smiles. She’s so pretty and elated that I find myself smiling at her as she waddles closer and falls to the bed beside me, groaning with a laugh.

  “God, you look like straight-up shit, honey, no offense. How do you feel?”

  Broken. Confused. A little pissed to be alive if you want the truth. I mean, honestly, I was so ready to go, and the peace I felt when the warmth hit me and I started floating away…

  “Where am I?” I croak, turning my head to look out at the wonder of greenery and the blue sky beyond.

  The sight makes me want to break down and cry because I never once thought I’d get to see any of this again. I haven’t seen the sky in so long that just looking out at the bright blue expanse makes me feel panicked and at a loss.

  “My home,” she says softly, laying a gentle hand against my brow.

  I can’t help but lean into the soft touch, my body and mind starved for this kindness in a way that I have always taken for granted, even when I was all alone in Texas and so starved for love there were days I thought I’d just stop feeling to halt the need burning inside me.

  “Who are you?”

  She smiles softly, and I see a shadow cross her face before she sighs and shakes her head.

  “This is gonna be awkward no matter which way you slice it, babe, so I may as well just get it all out on the table. My name is Lenny Storm, I’m Nick’s wife.”

  Joy and a little sadness engulf me at her words, but I find myself smiling again, though honestly, part of me hurts a little to know that he’s lost to me forever.

  Not that I would ever have gone through with the wedding. I wasn’t who he thought I was, and Storm deserved so much better than me…but darn it, I adored that man and would have happily been his at one point just to stop the other feelings from taking me completely.

  I’m happy, too, though. Yes, I said that right. Because this woman is so adorable and…and just glowingly good that I feel peace just looking at her.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I manage, swallowing tears.

  She smiles at that and cradles her belly, her very big belly, as she looks down at me.

  “I hated you for a long time for what you did to him, you know. I sort of figured you must be the worst person alive or the dumbest for letting him get away, but then when Gunny came back and they brought you in…I just like you. Does that make any sense?”

  No, but I totally understand because I don’t even know this woman, and yet I want to curl into her like a cat, just absorbing her heat and goodness.

  “Yes, because I kinda like you, too, and I don’t even know you. Where, how, and what the ever-loving hell?” I ask, smiling at her giggle and the spark of her blue eyes.

  “Tennessee. The guys went in to get you after Gunny crawled out of the wood work, and you’re lucky to be alive, little lady.” She laughs, stroking my brow again. “You came in with—”

  “Gunny?”

  My voice is a croak, but I’m lucky to even get a word out at the moment, as her words hit me with the force of a grenade to the chest. Okay, so here’s the part where a teeny tiny part of me always suspected that rat bastard of having escaped death. But it was small, okay? And even with the new information I had, one of the reasons I was fleeing home to begin with…well, I never really believed it.

  I saw Gunny die. I fucking saw it with my own eyes, as Storm was dragging me, kicking and screaming from that hellhole as the man I loved threw himself at that explosive.

  I saw it go off. Saw…hell that night.

  Lenny pauses, and I see her eyes go hard before she rolls them and grins at me.

  “I know, right? I kept hearing stories about the man, and then when we acquired our very own guardian angel…”

  She keeps talking, telling me a tale of such odd unreality that by the time she’s done, I know not only her but also a woman named Cleo, another named Evie, and even one named Kinsley.

  The Rosie character I refuse to believe, and I tell Lenny so as she chuckles and starts off on a spiel about a female Elvis impersonator who stole Lex’s heart right from the get-go.

  I listen with half an ear because, honestly, I’m stunned and not a little furious right now. Furious because what she’s telling me is that Gunny is alive and has been watching over them for a long time, months in fact, as I was being watched. Only my gift from the intelligence Gods happened to be a group of militants, who snatched me and tortured me to the point that I tried to kill myself lest I break.

  And for what!

  “Oh honey, you look so frazzled by all this, and believe me, I get it, but please don’t get all het up just yet. I put some wicked stitches in you that I’m pretty sure won’t leave all that much of a scar, and I just set your arm properly two days ago after you messed it up with your thrashing. You need to relax and heal.”

  Heal? Relax?

  How should I do that? I wonder, as I stare at a woman I like but don’t know and allow the reality of her story to sink in. I know things, at least I have a pretty decent idea about a few things right now, and just thinking them hurts so much it almost drowns out the maliciously potent rage coursing through me.

  Gunny, my Gunny, the man I mourned and hated all at the same time is alive and has been watching and protecting his unit for months. I know this man, maybe better than anyone ever has, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that the only way he’d crawl out of the woodwork after years of being a Shadow is that he’s got something up his sleeve.

  Something that likely has to do with how and why I was found and taken. Just thinking it makes my eyes burn with the need to cry, but I squelch it ruthlessly and focus instead on the here and now.

  “They ca
me for me? Storm?”

  “Is plenty pissed right now, and I swear Jericho is not…er, well…”

  “Happy to have me here?” I finish with a grimace of amusement, though you know I feel anything but amused right now.

  It’s not great knowing that the only other family I have besides Rachel hates me, you know? And it hurts more to think that I threw it all away because I was the puppet of a man who has no heart and less of a conscience than Idi Amin did.

  I’ve had to come to terms with a lot over the years after I lost everything, and the one thing that I regretted more than allowing Gunny to enthrall and use me is knowing that if I’d only come clean, I could have kept these men as friends at least.

  I wouldn’t have had to break Nick’s heart, or walk away into a lonely existence. I could have told them everything: about being Rachel, about my mission, and most definitely about their pal Gunny.

  Instead, I chose to honor the memory of a man they loved, and in the course of that stupidity, I was left with nothing and no one.

  I hate him so much right now it pisses me off that a part of me is happy that he’s still alive.

  The door opens then, and I find myself gaping when four other women walk in, their faces a kaleidoscope of happy, closed off, and just plain suspicious expressions, as they close the door and stop at the foot of the bed to take me in.

  I get it. Their men—because yeah, I know who they are just looking at them—must not be too happy at this moment, seeing as they had to save my dastardly ass from imminent death.

  I know who Cleo is from the get-go because she’s got a sweetness about her that Jericho would never be able to resist, and I know who Evie is because she’s got a strength that I know Blaze would go gaga for.

  The others are all I would imagine for that hard-ass King and the slightly hard but always joking Lexington.

  If pushed, I’d admit fully that I would probably see these women with their guys just by looking at them, without knowing a thing about them.

  Seeing them, knowing that my friends have found their ideal matches, makes me so damn happy it’s hard to breathe around the knot forming in my throat.

  “She’s pretty, even with the bruises,” Kinsley says softly, making me roll my eyes.

  “I call crock, lady. My hair is a mess, my face feels like King Kong skull-fucked me, and my mouth hurts just talking.”

  That gets me grins, and just like that, I see the four of them smile and throw Lenny a look.

  “You’re right; she is cool, even if she punches in her sleep. Thanks for the shiner by the way. Jericho was a real asshole about it,” Cleo mutters, giggling at my look of horror. “Don’t worry, I told him I hit you back, so it’s all good. Sorry for the extra bruise by the way.”

  Hell. Just what I need, another reason for the guys to look at me as if I’m dog shit. Which I am as far as they’re concerned, and I know it. All things aside, rescue and everything, which makes my head spin really, I’m not their favorite person, and I get that.

  I deserve no less than their scorn after all the lies I’ve told to protect Gunny.

  “Aww, she looks sad.”

  “I don’t,” I mutter at Evie, schooling my features immediately.

  “Holy shit, you have got to teach me that trick for when King gets all ape on me, girl. That shit was cool! If your eyes were closed, I would swear you were dead.”

  I snort at that and ignore the pain that radiates through me when they all pile onto the bed to stare at me as if I’m a zoo experiment. Just what I always wanted, I think sardonically, eyeing them through my good eye and the only slightly swollen right one.

  “Sooo, you’re the big, bad Rachel, who screwed around on Storm and broke his heart.”

  I grunt at Kinsley and shake my head slowly, avoiding sudden movements lest my head explode and ruin the pretty purple bedding and white sheets.

  “My name is Jessica Lane Keene. I was, for a very brief time, Rachel Keene, who is my twin sister,” I say slowly, my mouth twitching when they don’t seem surprised.

  I guess whatever that fucker Gunny has told them is all out in the open now. Just another reason for them to hate me, I guess, as I lie back and breathe shallowly through the pain in my ribs.

  Not that I care anymore, I tell myself, knowing it’s a lie even as I say it. Of course, I care! I loved these men at one time and relied on them to keep me alive while I did my job to track down Zulu.

  They were mine, even after I lost it all. I never stopped caring about them, even when I made the decision to leave instead of shattering their world with the entire truth.

  I’ve missed them so much it actually hurts to be here now. I know that whatever they feel for me, it’s nowhere near the love I feel for them. I want to yell and curse at Gunny for this because no matter how alone I was before, it was okay. It was way better than being here and knowing that the daydreams I had about some stupid reunion are just that—dreams.

  At least when I was alone, I could pretend that they’d forgive me one day and want me around, just as a friend. Now all I have is the knowledge that I’ve been betrayed again, and I still have less than nothing.

  I left the CIA knowing that my career was over. And I was okay with it. I was tired, grieving, and just ready to become a civilian with no other worries than what I was going to cook for dinner.

  I wanted a normal life for the first time since I was old enough to want the action-packed thrill of the job I chose. I wanted normalcy and peace. I didn’t get near what I wanted, let me tell you, because I lost my family, Rachel and her family included, and ended up alone and regretting a lot of things.

  But I still had hope, a hope that is now gone because I fully understand that they all hate me now, even if their wives are cool.

  “You were a spook.”

  Evie sounds so fascinated that I hate to break it to her that there is nothing glamorous about that fact. I spent as much time waiting and gathering intelligence as I did in the field with my gun and skills.

  A lot of the time it was boring as hell, something the CIA does not tell you when they recruit you. Go figure, or I’d probably have gone with firefighting like I wanted to at one point.

  “Yes.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Exciting. Interesting. Boring. Painful. Hell,” I say, smiling a little at their expressions. “I was part of an unsanctioned operation that no one knew about. It took me months to get even a scrap of information about my target, and then I was forced to steal my sister’s identity because I needed a press pass to get into the bases I needed to. I’d already been Army at that point, but I needed to move around without suspicion, so telling my boss that I was the twin sister of Rachel Keene was my only choice. You can just guess how much fun that as for me.”

  “Huh? Wait, so you have—?”

  “A twin sister named Rachel. Bingo,” I mutter, snorting at their slack jaws. “What? You thought I was really the cold-hearted backstabbing cheater who chose to break Storm’s heart? Not likely. I like the guys, always have. Too bad for me, my sister decided she wanted her life back, and that left me up shit creek without a paddle.”

  Chapter Four

  Jess

  They’re all still staring at me with something akin to awe and horror after I tell them everything about how I came to be Rachel and why, exactly, I walked out on Storm years ago.

  It’s freaking awkward in the telling, seeing as his old lady, Lenny, is sitting right beside me, rapt and gaping the more I tell.

  “Whoa! Wait, let me get this straight. You actually loved Storm but…?”

  “But I’d fucked myself over at that point, and we all know it. And love…I did love Nick Storm, who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t right between us and I knew it.”

  “Er.” Kinsley pauses and I see her eyes go wide before she shrieks and starts jumping around excitedly. “I know who you are! Oh my God, you are like my ultimate superhero and GI Jane all rolled into one.”

  I grimace at that
because, dammit, it’s not exactly a compliment being compared to a bald dyke, considering I probably look like hell with my hair right now.

  “Kins, babe, we all get that you have a super brain in that noggin of yours, and we love it, but the rest of us are just mere mortals, you know. Care to explain?” Evie asks, looking as confused as I feel when Kinsley winks and sighs happily.

  My subtle headshake goes unnoticed by the others, but I see Kinsley go still, and I try to convey my desperation to her without words before she says something I can’t come back from.

  “Er, remember I told y’all about a lady who called in with the intel about project Echo?”

  They all groan, and I feel my lips twist when Lenny huffs and rolls her eyes, clearly not in the least interested to hear spy stories at the moment. I get it. I met Kinsley once, just once, as Rachel and the woman is scary smart. Granted, the meeting was via satellite-encrypted video, but even I could see this one is a brain. I became more certain of it when Nick told me later that it was intel she looked at that gave them the coordinates for my rescue. In essence, Kinsley Jacobs saved my life because without her convoluted thinking and genius they wouldn’t have found me before it was too late.

  Another arrow to my heart, because I know that Gunny knew and he never said a word to anyone. Asshole!

  “Kinsley, honestly, I’d rather wax Old Fred Hensley’s back and balls without wax strips than hear your stories about secret operations. They suck ass. Now, Jess…can I call you Jess? This is what’s going to happen. In about an hour, the guys are going to lose patience with us being in here alone with you and come up here to “talk.” Please do not take anything they say to heart, okay? They’re…”

  They hate me, I think, filling in the blanks when they all share a look that leaves me saddened and really angry at Gunny, who by the way…