GRAY WOLF SECURITY, Texas: The Complete 6-Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Was he supposed to meet with that client the day he died?”

  She bit her lip, her thoughts clearly confused. “I was supposed to be here, but Daddy filled in at the last minute because I needed to be at home.”

  “Who knew the schedule? Who knew where you would be?”

  “Just my mom, the nanny, and the guide who was supposed to take the client out that night.”

  “The guide. You trust him?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. He’s worked with us since we opened the business.”

  I moved the boat around a curve of the island, moving slowly toward the mouth of the Trinity Bay. The water was filled with debris, so we had to move slowly. But we were out of Galveston and away from the cops who were likely sent to find exactly what they were going to find: a dead body.

  “What’s the plan?” Bailey asked.

  “We’re going to find a car and then we’re going to figure out who told Carmichael where to find you.”

  “And then?”

  I glanced at her. “And then we figure out how to prove what those assholes are up to.”

  She smiled. “I have recordings in a safe at my house.”

  “Then we’ll start there.”

  We made landfall a few minutes later, climbing onto a dock outside someone’s house. The place looked abandoned because of the storm. Again, there was debris everywhere. We picked our way around it and broke into the garage. There was a black Mercedes sitting there, the roof dented by the beams of the garage collapsing onto it.

  It was a trick getting the trash off the car so that we could pull it out of the garage. And then it was a trick navigating the residential roads. The emergency crews wouldn’t get to these streets for a while. But once we hit the highway, we discovered that most of it was clear. We just had to go slow and watch for unexpected debris.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket once we made it to downtown Houston.

  “Annie?”

  “Oh, Ingram! We were worried when we heard about the hurricane. I guess things are pretty bad down there.”

  “There’s a lot of debris.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  I glanced at Bailey. She was staring forward, her jaw set like she was pissed about something. I almost laughed when I realized what I was seeing was jealousy.

  “Listen, Annie, is David around?”

  “Sure. Just a sec.”

  I reached over to touch Bailey’s thigh. She stared at me, her eyes filled with hurt and anger.

  “She’s the office manager at the security firm where I work. That’s all.”

  She didn’t respond. She just turned her head toward the windows.

  David came on the line a moment later, his voice low and smooth. I still didn’t know what to think of David even after working for him for nearly five months. He seemed to really care about the business and each of us operatives, but I couldn’t figure out if that was because of the bottom line or if he really cared. The fact that he was former FBI, not military, bothered me a little. He had little idea what most of us had learned and done in the military. He couldn’t really relate to us. But he was the best employer I’d ever worked for.

  “I’ve got myself into a little trouble here in Houston.”

  “What kind of trouble.”

  I glanced at Bailey. “The thing is, I need a safe place to bring my wife and child. Would it be possible for me to bring them to you?”

  Bailey looked at me then. She shook her head almost wildly.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she announced.

  I ignored her.

  “That’s fine,” David said. “If you’ll tell me what’s going on, maybe we could help.”

  “I’ll do that when we get to Austin. Things are pretty bad here, so it might take us a little while to get out of the city, but we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  I disconnected the call as Bailey glared at me.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you, Ingram.”

  “These people are trying to kill you. I can’t keep you here, knowing you’re in harm’s way.”

  “Ingram—”

  “Where’s the child?”

  She shook her head, her face turned away from me again.

  “Bailey?”

  “He’s at my house in Katy.”

  She said it in a sulky voice, clearly not pleased with me. But all I heard was the pronoun. He. I had a son.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Adam. Adam Ingram Greer Porter.”

  I glanced at her. “Seriously? Poor kid.”

  She looked at me again, a little laughter dancing in her eyes. “You don’t like his name?”

  “You named him after me.”

  “I wanted him to have a part of his father.”

  I inclined my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was going to.” She shook her head. But then she straightened in her seat, her spine as rigid as a piece of rebar. “I did tell you. In all those letters I wrote to you while you were in the brig. I told you everything over and over again. I even sent pictures of him.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d been angry. Hurt. I didn’t want to read her letters, to read excuses that I would have found difficult to believe. But to know that I’d been a father all this time and I didn’t know…that was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “Do you remember that night on the ship, the night a few weeks before everything exploded? That night you snuck into my bunk?”

  I nodded. “It was our four-month anniversary.”

  “I had the flu right before that. I guess I missed a couple of pills…”

  “That’s when it happened?”

  She nodded. “I realized it just before we hit port. I snuck into a drug store on the way to the hotel and bought a test, then I did it when you went downstairs to meet your shipmates.”

  “You’d just found out when—”

  “Yeah. When they handed me that glass of wine. If I hadn’t known, I might have drunk it and then…I don’t know where we’d be.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shook her head slowly, the movement almost rhythmic. “I didn’t want to distract you from your court martial.”

  I grunted. “A little distraction might have been a good thing at that point.”

  “Yeah, well, if you’d known, you wouldn’t have let me testify at all, so maybe I should have told you.”

  “He threatened you? Carmichael?”

  “No. It was Philips.”

  “With what?”

  “I told you. Jail time. Who would have raised the baby if we were both behind bars?”

  “There had to have been more to it.” I looked over at her. “What did he really threaten you with? Did he know about the baby? Did he threaten him?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  I knew there was more just as I knew my own name. Bailey wasn’t a very good liar.

  When she didn’t answer me right away, I pulled the car to the side of the road. For a long minute, I sat there with my hands on wheel, staring at the road ahead of us. There wasn’t much movement out and about right now. I saw an emergency vehicle go by in the opposite direction, but that was about it.

  “I hated you,” I said softly. “I sat there and watched you say those things, say those lies, and something inside of me just died. Even though I knew there had to be a reason for why you’d betray me that way, my head immediately went to that place it’d always gone when someone stabbed me in the back. I assumed you did it because you never loved me, you never wanted me. That it was all a scam built on a house of cards.”

  “That’s not true,” she said softly.

  “How was I supposed to know that? You know about my childhood. You know about the things my foster parents and the kids in the group homes did to me. You know that there were very few people I could trust.”

  “I know.”

&nbs
p; “You were the only person I really believed in, that I really thought believed in me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, the torture she’d put herself through these last few years clear in her voice.

  That’s what confused me. It was so obvious that she regretted what she’d done. Yet, she did it knowing full well what it would mean. So why do it?

  She was not a woman who got off on betraying the people closest to her.

  “When did you know what Carmichael and his cohorts were up to?”

  “Not until after the court martial.”

  “Why did you start investigating it?”

  She looked up at me, her big eyes filled with tears. “To exonerate you.”

  “Bailey—”

  “I thought that if I could prove that they were going to rape me, they would have to let you out early. But I couldn’t get enough evidence before your time was up.”

  “You did this for me?”

  “For you. And for Adam. He has a right to know his daddy.”

  I bit my bottom lip, my thoughts whirling. “And your testimony? Why did you say what you did?”

  “That’s what Philips told me to say. He said if I didn’t…” She shook her head. “He was standing in the back of the room. I knew he wasn’t lying, that he would really…”

  “What? What would he do?”

  Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “He threatened you. He said if I didn’t say what he wanted me to say, he would make sure you didn’t make it out of the brig. But if I did, he would have his people watch over you.”

  “He said that?”

  “He would call me every couple of months and give me updates on you.”

  “What would he say?”

  She brushed the tears away. “He told me when you got into a fight with your cellmates. He told me when you turned evidence on another prisoner. He told me when you took up weight lifting.” She glanced at me. “I wasn’t sure how much of it was true.”

  “Sounds like he nailed it.”

  It creeped me out a little to think that someone was watching over me the whole time I was in the brig. I wondered who it was, but knew that wondering would only drive me crazy. It could have been anyone, from a guard to one of the other inmates. I would never figure out who it was.

  “I was afraid for you,” she said, resting a hand on my thigh. “I kept imagining you getting hurt on the exercise field or something.”

  “I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for a very long time.”

  “I know. But you don’t have to anymore.”

  That cut through me. It made me feel an overwhelming amount of guilt for the flames of hate I fanned while I was in the brig.

  “I didn’t want to take the chance,” she said softly. “I knew you would be angry, that you would hate me. But at least you’d be alive.”

  I groaned. “You never sent me divorce papers. I expected them, every time I got mail I thought they would be there. I figured you wouldn’t want to be married to me anymore. But you never sent them.”

  “I didn’t want a divorce.”

  I reached for her, brought her close. My hands slipped over her face, my fingers pressing themselves into her hair. She looked up at me, tears fresh on her eyelashes. I moved close and kissed her gently.

  “You should have told me.”

  She sighed. “I tried, Ingram. I did.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t read your letters. I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls.”

  She pressed her hand to my jaw. “You were angry. And hurt.”

  I kissed her again. “I’m sorry I left you alone to deal with this.”

  “I’m not alone now.”

  We sat there for a long while, clinging to each other. So much lost time. If things had gone differently…but I supposed there was no point in regrets. We just had to get through this mess we’d fallen into and then focus on the future.

  I kissed the top of her head, thinking about that future. I’d imagined I’d be alone for the rest of my life. I’d imagined I’d be one of those guys who was always sitting at the bar alone, the guy who always went home alone. I imagined I’d be the guy who would die alone in his apartment to only be discovered when a neighbor complained to the super about the smell. But now? I was almost afraid to hope.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered against my neck. “Every single day.”

  I slid my hand down her back. “I missed you.”

  She looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Every day. I just wouldn’t let myself admit it.”

  She kissed my neck, her breath lingering on my skin. I groaned, trying to remind myself we were sitting in the front seat of a stolen Mercedes. But there was no one around. The city was evacuated and those remaining were hiding in their homes until the emergency workers came to clear the area. We hadn’t seen another soul for some time.

  I slid my hand under her shirt.

  “We have so much time to make up for.”

  She climbed onto my lap, her eyes dancing with laughter. “Too much time,” she breathed against my mouth.

  I slid my hands down the back of her jeans, taking big handfuls of her ass. My fingers brushed against her pussy, her moisture exciting me more than her kiss or the smell of her skin. I nibbled at her throat, ran my tongue along her jaw.

  “I love you,” she whispered against my ear.

  Her jeans separated easily. I tugged at them, pulling them down and urging her to move her legs to take them away completely. It was not the easiest thing in the world, stripping her in the tiny confines of the driver’s side of that small car. But we managed. She wiggled her hips and moved her thighs, my fingers prying at her jeans as they finally slipped from her body. And then I was inside of her again and it felt almost like the first time.

  We were on ship the first time. There’d been a flirtation going on since that first meeting in the ballroom. We’d be in the mess hall and there’d be looks across the room, little things like a smile here and there, or a little eye contact that seemed to mean more than it should. We’d pass each other in the narrow corridors and there’d be little touches. And then there were moments of stolen conversation that held more meaning than long, drawn out conversations I’d had with women before and since. And then we met late one night in a corridor that was infrequently used. We didn’t say a word. Our lips met for the first time and it ignited a fire that couldn’t be put out. She’d been wearing slacks then, too. I turned her into the wall and pulled them free of her hips, donning a condom just before I slid deep inside of her. I had to hold my hand over her mouth to keep her from alerting anyone to our position, biting hard on my own lip to keep myself from doing the same.

  It was a moment that defined our relationship, the secrets that would surround it for so long.

  I touched her as she moved into a rhythm, her hips rocking and grinding, her body doing things to mine that made me lose my sense of reality. We were in the middle of a war zone brought on by nature, running from an unseen enemy that could appear at any moment. Yet, we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves, couldn’t stop reaching for each other every opportunity we got.

  I stole her mouth again, tasting her again. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. She suddenly pulled back, rearing her head as her muscles began to convulse around my cock. I grabbed her ass and pulled her hard against me, watching her face as her orgasm overwhelmed her. I waited until she began to come down off that wave, then I grabbed her ass and pulled her hard against me, using her body, planting my feet hard against the floorboards of the car to thrust against her. I was coming to the edge. I could feel it building inside my balls. She rolled with me, her hips responding to my movements. She buried her face in my shoulder, her teeth coming down on my throat as another orgasm began to blow through her. Mine came on her coattails, a scream escaping my lips before I could catch myself.

  When it was done, she collapsed against me, her breathing just as wild and erratic as mine. We held each other, the p
ounding of our hearts the only sound in the car. After a while, I buried my fingers in her hair, kissing her jaw and her throat.

  “I love you,” I whispered softly.

  She groaned. Tears started to slide down her cheeks as she buried her face against my throat. I held her close, feeling like I wanted to cry, too. I thought I’d lost everything. But I didn’t. It was all right here in my arms. As long as she believed in me, I could do anything.

  Chapter 11

  At the Compound

  David called Kipling McKay. He was hoping to get some advice like Ash had suggested. What he got was nothing.

  “I have an operative who’s run into some personal trouble,” David said.

  “Then you should probably tell your operative to leave his crap at home.”

  David stiffened, not pleased with this man’s attitude. “I don’t know about you, but I care about my men and their welfare. I simply called you for a little advice.”

  “I’m not in the market for giving advice.”

  “Ash thought—”

  “Tell Ash to mind his own business.”

  McKay hung up before David could respond.

  He sat back and stared at the phone, wondering what the hell this man’s problem was. Ash had hinted that there was something going on, but David hadn’t done any investigating. He was trying to respect the man’s space. If Ash thought it was important for David to know, he would have told him. Yet, his resistance was frustrating.

  David went upstairs to find Ricki. She was in Chase’s playroom, sitting at a low table with him as they read a book about superheroes.

  “Daddy!” Chase cried, jumping up to launch himself at his father’s arms. David swung him up and laughed as the child snuggled close to his chest. David ran his hand slowly over his son’s slight back, trying to imagine what it would be like if it was his wife and child in danger. It had been bad enough when Ricki was the target of an unbalanced woman who’d tried to kill her six years ago when they first met. That was bad enough. But if it were to happen again…

  David hugged his son closer to him.

  “Everything okay, babe?”

  Ricki looked up at him, concern etched in her eyes. When he didn’t answer right away, she got up and pried Chase from his arms.