Shielding Shayna: Brotherhood Protectors World (Special Forces & Brotherhood Protectors Series Book 6)

by Heather Long

  Oddjob’s blood ran cold.

  “I wasn’t ready to give up,” she said, her gaze taking on that thousand yard stare. “Not really. A part of me kept finding excuses. But my uncle…he pulled me back here, and brought me to Brighter Days. I lived there for the last year, putting my life back together.”

  “Thank fuck for him, then.”

  “Oorah.”

  In that moment, he committed to a second mission. Somewhere along the way, Shayna left herself behind. She was fighting to get back to that woman—the woman who’d saved his life in a desert. A woman who’d given him a reason to live. A woman he’d crossed a continent to find and thank.

  It was about damn time he returned the favor.

  Chapter 3

  Three days after the explosion and they were no closer to the source of the incidents than she’d been when Hank offered Oddjob to help with security. They’d cleared the house, the barn, and all the other structures on the property. Worse, after they went through the debris at the cabin, they’d found no evidence of incendiary devices or a rational explanation for why it exploded. Shayna leaned against the fence railing, watching the horses as they lazed about. She’d turned them out after morning feed, and mentally went down the checklist of things she needed to do.

  “Morning boss,” Oddjob’s voice tingled over her as he came to lean against the fence next to her. He held out a travel mug of coffee. The routine had grown familiar after just a few days. Thankfully, someone had gone back for the mugs they’d lost or maybe he’d had more replacements up there.

  “Thank you,” she said by way of greeting and cradled the mug. At least the flare she’d endured after the explosion had subsided. Deep stretches each day had freed up some of the tension along her spine and relaxed her arm. Yeah, the new normal was going to take a long time. “How are you doing?”

  “Well as could be expected considering age and circumstance.” The man didn’t have a serious bone in his body. Or at least he managed to play it as if he didn’t. Strange, yet adorable in the same breath. “You?”

  “Nervous,” she admitted. The man could get her to confess to things she didn’t even like admitting to herself. Taking a drink of coffee, she tried to contain the follow-up already bubbling to escape.

  The weight of his gaze settled on her, and she could almost see his frown from the periphery of her vision but she forced herself to focus on the horses. They were calm, their tails swishing as they ambled along, nibbling at the grass. Of all of them, they seemed the least distressed by the latest events.

  So maybe she should take a page from their book. Though she wasn’t entirely certain how possible that would be.

  “Talk to me, Shayna.” Somewhere in that man there had to be a flaw, not that she’d discovered one yet. The need to trust him, coupled with the ease of relying on him seemed like a mistake waiting to happen. Just because she couldn’t see the trap, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Look at the cabin.

  “It’s stupid,” she said finally, dismissing the unsettled feeling in her gut and taking another swallow of coffee. “We should be getting a delivery today, and I have more paperwork to review. The attorneys sent it over and I’m sure it’s fine, but I would rather read it all before I sign it.”

  “All right,” he said, seemingly accepting her response. Then he shifted his position and leaned sideways against the fence. “Are you nervous about the paperwork?”

  “What?” Caught, she glanced at him. He’d clipped his beard, neatened the scruffiness and she found herself missing the way it had looked before. “No, it’s more about the non profit status, and my appointment to run the facility. I’ll draw a small stipend, but I still have to have the ability to sign off on everything. Like I said, I’m sure the paperwork is fine. I reviewed most of the conditions with the attorneys a couple of weeks ago. We’re going to be a satellite of Brighter Days Ranch for a time, but the goal is to stand on our own.”

  “All right, so then the delivery? What’s bothering you about it?” He took a long drink of his coffee, but his gaze never moved away from hers.

  “Nothing—forget I mentioned it.” Giving into the anxiety let it win.

  “’Fraid I can’t do that. You’ve been cool as a cucumber since you insisted on sleeping on the sofa.” He’d been very clear in his dislike of that choice and his inability to dissuade her when she’d stayed at the barn the night after the explosion. “You said you’re nervous, which is not something you’d say lightly. Talk to me. The only thing worse than a bad plan is having no plan at all.”

  Once they’d gotten the all clear on the house, she’d resumed sleeping there—and if he thought she hadn’t noticed his crashing in her living room, he was mistaken.

  He came in after she went to ‘bed’ and left before she ‘rose,’ but she hadn’t slept a straight night through in years. Take the man out of the Navy, but they couldn’t take the Navy out of the man—or maybe it was the Air Force and the SEALs too. Either way, he seemed determined to have her back and since he wasn’t intrusive about it, she avoided the argument.

  And it makes me feel better knowing he’s out there. Another sign of weakness that hadn’t left the body. She should be able to look after herself, but considering her collapse and backslide, maybe she would never have that privilege again.

  Worse, maybe… “We’ve got a big fat lot of nothing. The jeep’s brakes were tampered with, but nothing obvious—they just failed. If it had been the piece of shit I drove around in DC and lived out of, maybe. The jeep though? That was my uncle’s and he took damn good care of it.” She hadn’t told him about the accidents yet, but she’d bet even odds he knew. The Brotherhood Protectors involved themselves damn quick after the first few incidents.

  Oddjob didn’t say anything. Patience rolled off him, the same kind of calm which wreathed the horses. Maybe that was the source of her discontent. He fit right in on a ranch. The horses, obviously, belonged. So what the hell was Shayna doing there? What did she really hope to accomplish starting this effort here? The veterans she needed to help were in cities…

  “The cabin explosion…the jeep. The fact I don’t feel like I belong here. It’s all making me a little nervous I guess. I’m second guessing the plan. Second guessing myself.”

  “Then run the plan down with me.” He shifted his position and leaned his back against the fence rail.

  “Why are you so damn upbeat?”

  “Because I’m alive.” If she’d placed a bet, this response was not one she would have gambled on. In fact, it wouldn’t have even made the top ten. He skimmed his gaze across the wide green separating the house and the barn. “Survival is underrated a lot of the time. We mark our missions by accomplishment, and our service contracts by the number of missions we complete. We look at what we achieve, our rank, our duty assignments, and we say look what I did right. If we get hurt…we tend to say look what I did wrong.”

  “Or if we lose someone.” She could follow his logic.

  “Exactly. Now we can beat ourselves up about what we failed, or we can learn from the failure and thrive. I’ve lost guys…and I’ve carried guys out. I’ve seen some of the best men I know lose a limb or end up in a wheelchair. Or worse, in the bottom of a bottle with no discernible way to climb out. So I survive and that means I have a duty to every single one of those who didn’t make it all the way back to live the best way I know how and to find a way to make the things that need to happen—happen.”

  “Dude…you never stop.” Admiration vied with envy as she stared at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that upbeat before and I did my share of tours overseas…and in hot zones.” Even before women were allowed on the front lines of combat situations. They’d been there.

  The mistake too many made was considering modern battle lines to resemble those which carved the French countryside in World War I or as if the mythical Mason-Dixon line separating north from south was an actual line demarcating where the battles took place. Women both in service and in ci
vilian life were often caught up in the conflicts.

  “So what did you do before?” An element of challenge curled his words.

  “Got up and went to work. Reported for duty. Did my job.” Damn, that sounded sad now that she thought about it. “The way I was raised, you put up or you shut up. We didn’t share our problems with the world, and if we had to limp to put one foot in front of the other, you just did it until it got a little easier.”

  “You were a real champ at Basic, weren’t you?” The teasing pulled a smile from her and she laughed.

  “Don’t get me wrong, it sucked—but it was the same thing. Get up, do it. Hurt like hell, get some sleep and get up and do it again. Eventually, even the most difficult challenges get easier if you repeat them enough.” It was how she made it through classes in high school—the ones that didn’t come easy. It was how she learned to ride a bike after wobbling and falling constantly on broken training wheels. Ripped them off and skinned her knees, elbows and even her chin—but she learned.

  “What if you couldn’t do something? What if you physically weren’t able?”

  “I don’t believe in that.” Not even now. “Not even when my body is fighting me every step of the way. I just haven’t figured out how to make it work. The day I can’t…”

  “Don’t say it.” The order sliced through the air like a verbal slap. “You already told me you were close to making a call you couldn’t walk back, don’t even suggest it now as a joke.”

  It wasn’t a joke, but… “I hear you. It’s a challenge to get up every day and not be certain what you will or won’t be able to do. Sometimes, I can go all day, and I’m only a little tired. Other days, it’s a physical effort to just get out of bed. My goal is to reclaim every ounce of my independence. Part of why Celebrate is so important to me.”

  “And why it scares the hell out of you at the same time?” Just like that, he zeroed in on the source of her nervousness and she had to pause to think it all the way through.

  “Partially true,” she said, but her ready agreement wasn’t the whole story. “Making this place work, providing a safe space for other veterans to reclaim their independence is about more than me. If I’m not up the task, if I fail them before we’ve even opened our doors? I’m not the one who really loses, am I? I tried, if I get pushback and have to start over—I can do that.” She could, too. How many times in her life had she had to start again and again? How many times did she reach the top of one wall, all bruised and bloody, only to discover there was a taller one on the other side? “If I fail them, then they lose out on a place to help them pick up the pieces.”

  “Failing yourself is fine, you’ll dust off and go again.” He summarized. “Failing others isn’t acceptable?”

  “No. Not ever.” If someone was counting on you, then no. She’d rather drill her own teeth than let down someone to whom she’d given her word.

  “Shayna, you’re a hell of a woman, but that’s nuts.” The wry sentiment lacked the heat of a real insult. “If you can’t overcome the obstacles here, and you start over—are you telling me that nothing you do in the future will help any of these people you want to help?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “And there are no other organizations out there right now, doing what you’re attempting? There’s literally no one looking to help these veterans?”

  Damn him and his logic. “No. In fact those organizations are part of the reason I want to do this in the first place.” They’d helped her.

  Straightening, he drained the last of his coffee and she realized, belatedly, she’d finished hers sometime during the discussion. “Last question, do you really think you’re in the field alone? Or do you trust me? Hank? Brighter Days? The rest of the Brotherhood Protectors to have your back?”

  She didn’t want to rely on them, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t rely them. “I know they do—I know you do.” Nothing else could be clearer. Refusing to depend on others was an act of selfishness. One she’d already overindulged.

  “Then tell me what’s making you nervous right now?” Challenge radiated from him, but more than challenge was a sense of assurance. He needed a target, and he needed her to point him in the right direction.

  It was almost too difficult to admit he’d already nailed it.

  “I’m nervous about pushing forward and endangering the very people I want to help. I’m nervous that if we leave the property to run an errand, someone will sneak out here and hurt the horses or burn down the house—”

  The reality struck her and her stomach clenched.

  “And?” He pressed, dipping his head to hold her gaze.

  “And I’m nervous that you’re planning to be the first one through the door and if I can’t have your back, I might get you killed.” Fuck. The realization burned, but more than anything else, she’d come to value this man and his crazy name and upbeat attitude.

  Oddjob tucked a finger beneath her chin and bent his forehead to rest against hers. “First, we’re not dealing with inserting into a volatile situation. We’re running defense at the moment, easier to watch the walls than it is to burrow under them.” The fact he rolled right into strategizing muted the rapidly ramping anxiety. “Secondly, we’ve got a hell of a lot of backup and I’m betting we could even pull in air support if needed.” Then he winked. “Finally…there’s no one else I trust more to have my back.”

  The last statement stunned her, and she frowned. “I don’t get it…why?”

  “Story for another day,” he released her chin and backed away with a wink. “So, when is the delivery due here? What do you need in town? How long do we need to be out? I’ll get us back up so someone is here watching the place for us and we’ll take my truck.”

  Damn SEALs always ready to dive into the action.

  Looking hot doing it.

  Still, she had to grin. “Groceries…I’m sure as hell not eating MREs willingly.”

  “Aww,” he said, clutching a hand to his chest. “That just means more for me.”

  Damn, she really hoped she was as reliable as he seemed to think. “I’m going up to the house to make a list. Delivery is due in at two, so if we head into Eagle Rock as soon as someone can get here, we can be back before the furniture truck gets out here.”

  “Furniture. Check. I’m calling in at least two more guys.” The last he tossed over his shoulder as he carried their coffee cups up the stairs to his apartment. Instead of heading for the house, she stared after him.

  The nagging sensation of familiarity only increased the more time they spent together. Instead of finding a new friend, it was an awful lot like rediscovering an old one.

  And on that note, no more meds. You’re starting to sound like a cracked fairytale.

  Maybe talking about the issues had been the right thing to do. The grin she wore didn’t subside all the way to the house.

  Chapter 4

  Despite the pep talk he’d given Shayna, the next several days began to wear on his nerves. Following the cabin explosion and subsequent fire, no other acts of vandalism were immediately noticeable. He’d made a point of irregular checks of the perimeter, interspersed with the efforts of the rest of the team. They still had their own lives, though, and jobs. The amount of time passing without incident stretched even his credulity. Shayna’s nerves, however, were pulling taut. She checked, rechecked, and paced.

  She also didn’t bother to hide her lack of sleep. He’d been crashing on her sofa each night, and refused to entertain her suggestion of sleeping upstairs in one of the newly furnished rooms. Lack of sleep in the field was something he could handle. But the passage of time put inordinate pressure on his reserves.

  Throwing the idea around with Hank and some of the other members of the protectors led him to the phone call he currently placed. The guys were all on site—walking a tour with Shayna and one of the facilitators from the rehab facility. Shayna wanted to practice her pitch, and the guys were all interested to see the layout. It meant s
he was in good hands, but it didn’t stop him from keeping an eye out from the window.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to make the call, but it was the first time Jacko answered the damn phone. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I’m busy Oddjob, how are you?” the other man answered, his tone distracted. When it came to intelligence gathering and dissemination, Jacko was the best man for the job. The retired SEAL did a lot of information scraping since he left the teams.

  “Concerned. You too busy to help a friend out? Or do you need backup somewhere?” It would suck if Jacko did, because Oddjob liked to be there for his friends. No way could he step out on Shayna, not until they had her pseudo saboteur-slash-stalker handled.

  “Just crocheting some doilies.” Jacko didn’t miss a beat. “So if you have a good hook stitch, I’ll count you in. Otherwise…”

  It wasn’t always easy to tell when the other man joked or was dead serious. “Roger that. I’m on a job in Montana…”

  “Hank “Montana” Patterson is your guy. He’s got resources and contacts all over the state. Anything else?” The distracted note promised Oddjob didn’t have Jacko’s full attention, but the man could do more than walk and chew gum at the same time.

  “Yeah, I’m already working with them. Do you want the story or just what I need?” Because he didn’t sound like he had as much time for the latter much less the former.

  “Fuck, hit me. What do you need?” Just like that, Jacko’s attention would laser focus to the issue at hand.

  “I need some freelance backup—they stay out sight and out of mind unless something goes down. Decent sized spread here, about two hundred acres, but isolated foot print. Currently two human residents and four equine. That’s due to change in about four weeks, but we’ve had acts of sabotage and at least two attempted murders.”

  The cabin explosion definitely counted as one and there was no other way to look at the tampering with her brakes.