“Oh, hey, did you hear the news?” Courtney asked.
Marissa’s gaze cut over to Courtney, her friend’s eyes once again glued to her phone, her long, dark hair falling down around her face as her slender fingers tapped out something on the screen.
“What news?”
“Danielle Davidson is coming back home.”
“Dani?” Marissa stared at Courtney, waiting for her friend to meet her gaze. “Are you serious?” Marissa hadn’t talked to Dani in… Wow. It’d been several years. Two, maybe three. Ever since Dani had hauled ass out of town. “What does Hunter think about that?”
“Let’s just say, if I were you, I wouldn’t bring it up.”
Holy crap. It was hard to believe that Dani was coming back. No wonder Hunter seemed even grumpier than usual. “Don’t worry, he won’t hear a peep from me.”
Courtney’s phone chimed.
“Today is supposed to be my day off,” Courtney snarled as she sat across from Marissa, dropping her phone in her lap after briefly scanning the screen.
Marissa cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Courtney to finish her thought.
“My dad just texted me. Said I need to join them for an impromptu”—Courtney did air quotes with her fingers—“family meeting.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
That got Marissa’s attention. “Here? As in my parents’ house?”
That explained why she’d seen Trace and Hunter arrive a short time ago.
“Looks that way,” Courtney told her as her fingers flew over her phone.
“Has Trace told you anything? About what’s going on?”
“Me? No. But that’s not unusual.” The regret in Courtney’s tone was subtle yet unmistakable. “But think of it this way … at least you’re home.”
Always the optimist, Courtney was.
Marissa knew she should be grateful for the fact that, for the time being anyway, she was there with her family. It would probably help if she didn’t feel like a prisoner in her own home. Considering the estate was on lockdown—no one in and no one out with the exception of a very limited few—Marissa had nothing to do except think.
What she really wanted was to be free of all this shit. But this time, things were different. In all the months that Marissa had been tucked away in isolation, never once had Trace personally come to get her. Sniper 1 had always sent a secondary agent. Not Trace or one of his brothers. Not even one of her own brothers. And for whatever reason—not since meeting up with Ryan and Clay at the diner—no one was telling her anything.
Then again, they’d already managed to link the series of events back to the Adorites, although Marissa had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t actually the ones after her. Could’ve been wishful thinking, but she didn’t think so.
But if she had to guess, Ryan and Trace knew something she didn’t. They just weren’t sharing the information with her.
At first, Marissa had tried to comply with every wish, every command, because she wasn’t ignorant of the danger. She’d spent her life growing up with it thanks to who her father was. She knew that they could all ultimately become targets. She wasn’t the only one who’d experienced it firsthand, but for some reason, they treated this threat with more sensitivity than, say, the time Ryan had come under fire many years ago. Or the life-or-death situation Trace and Z had found themselves in. Or…
No, this wasn’t as serious as when Conner’s beautiful wife had been murdered in cold blood a year and a half ago.
Marissa felt the burn of tears behind her eyes and fought them. She didn’t want to cry anymore over the loss of one of their own. But it helped to put things in perspective. Here she was, feeling sorry for herself, when Conner and his daughter, Shelby, had suffered the most.
Sniper 1 Security was an elite security company known for its covert operations and its frequent involvement with some pretty nasty people. They worked on the right side of the law; however, she also knew they straddled the line in a big way because they were the good guys.
Still, through the years, the owners of Sniper 1, Bryce and Casper, had made some pretty powerful enemies. Her brothers were even racking up points in the not-very-popular category these days, but they weren’t being whisked off like she was. Then again, if she were entirely honest, it had been her suggestion to be sent to a safe house. In the beginning. No one seemed to remember that fact anymore, because over time, they’d stopped allowing her to make decisions for herself, which was how she ended up in multiple safe houses in a twelve-month period.
In a nutshell, they were treating her like a child, and she was beginning to lose her patience.
When she’d become the target, Marissa had been shocked into submission—mostly out of fear and dread after they’d lost Tricia in such a horrific way. So, she had followed the rules and allowed the men in her life to make the decisions in regard to her safety. And that was all good and fine because she knew they were only interested in keeping her safe.
Only there was one thing missing: communication.
Hers and theirs.
From the beginning, Marissa had kept her mouth shut, wishing like hell she was wrong about who she suspected was after her. And yes, Ryan had hit it right on the nose. From all angles, it looked as though the Adorites were targeting her for whatever reason. Not that it made sense. She wasn’t actually the one who’d spurred the raid that had temporarily closed down several of their nightclubs. But she had supplied some of the information.
God. And now Douglas was dead and it looked as though she was going to be next.
The fact that Trace had shown up this last time—not one of the lower-ranked agents—to take her away from the danger that had gotten too close meant things had escalated to an entirely new level.
Too bad Trace represented as much danger to Marissa as any of Sniper 1’s enemies. Trace was the one man she wanted but knew she’d never have. And with every minute they spent together, Marissa felt that longing deep in her soul that she couldn’t seem to get past. The only thing that kept her from pursuing her feelings for him was the danger that had become an integral part of her everyday life.
Noticing that Courtney was staring back at her, Marissa tried to sound casual as she asked, “What does your dad want to talk about?”
“Work, obviously, because he won’t text details about that.”
Marissa couldn’t help but feel a little excited. If Casper was meeting with Courtney at Marissa’s parents’ house, it probably meant it had to do with her. God, she hoped it was good news. Like maybe last night’s intruder had led them to the douchebag who’d insisted on chasing her all over the country. And if Trace wasn’t going to be the one to give her the news she wanted, maybe she could get it from his father.
“Looks like the party’s gonna take place in the kitchen,” Courtney informed her as she stood up, stretching her legs. “Wanna come with me?”
“As long as you don’t think Trace will tackle me when I try to leave my bedroom,” Marissa teased, earning another huge grin from Courtney.
“I can’t make any promises there.”
Knowing Trace, anything was possible. Still, Marissa smiled and said, “No worries. At this point, it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Fifteen
Trace had known, the moment Casper mentioned TJ was on his way, that whatever this meeting was about, it was serious. Granted, everything going on at the moment was serious, what with Marissa being the target of one of the biggest crime families in the great state of Texas.
Tanner Jonathan Trexler Sr., better known as TJ, was not only Bryce’s younger brother, he was also an integral part of Sniper 1 Security and had been ever since he’d shown an interest in his brother’s company a solid twenty years earlier. Trace would be the first to admit that TJ was probably the key reason they’d grown as significantly as they had through the last decade. It was because of TJ that they’d ventured into monitored security services, something that allowed a steady r
evenue stream. Not something Trace was interested in due to the desk nature of those particular jobs, but it had been a brilliant idea on TJ’s part. Since TJ generally didn’t get in the middle of an op, his expected presence was making Trace nervous.
Never being much on patience, after a solid fifteen minutes had passed, Trace was ready to get on with it. Leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table, he asked his father directly, “What’s going on?”
“Wait a minute,” a booming voice called from the front of the house. “Hold your damn horses.”
Trace twisted in his chair, his eyes tracking TJ and the other two men now moving into the kitchen to join them. Following close behind TJ was RT—the owner of the irritated voice—who dropped into a chair closest to his father, on the other side of Colby. Z followed them, but rather than taking a seat, he opted to lean against the wall behind Trace. Clay, the last one to the party, made a beeline for the coffeepot, looking like a man on a mission.
“You’re late,” Bryce informed the men now sliding into the remaining chairs at the table.
“You gave us five fucking minutes to get here,” Colby said by way of reprimand. “The office is fifteen minutes away.”
“Last I recall, you’re not all that mindful of the speed limit. I’m sure you had plenty of time,” Casper said gruffly, with a hint of amusement mixed in, obviously trying to keep the tension to a minimum.
“Right. And if y’all had bothered to go into the office, we wouldn’t be sitting here in Bryce’s kitchen,” Colby inserted.
“Not enough privacy in that place,” Bryce joked, although the smile on his worn face looked forced.
That statement caught everyone’s attention, but no one said a word. The comment had been said without heat, but Trace could see real concern in Bryce’s midnight-blue eyes. Obviously he was still convinced they had a mole.
RT glared at his father, running his hand through his thick blond hair as he asked, “What’s going on?”
“Is Courtney comin’ down?” Bryce inquired, glancing around the table.
“She should be,” Casper said. “I asked her to join us.”
“Well, this can’t wait any longer.” Bryce looked from one man to another. “I wanted to talk about Marissa and the shit that went down last night,” Bryce told them, planting his elbows on the table as he made fleeting eye contact with everyone seated around him.
“My daughter was home less than forty-eight hours when someone targeted her here. On my fucking front lawn.”
Trace’s back straightened.
“Who knew she was home?” Conner asked, glancing around the table.
“The people in this room,” Bryce growled.
“Who else?”
Trace glanced at all the faces of the men sitting at the table. That was a good question.
“We run a company, for Christ’s sake,” Colby said. “Everyone in the damn office probably knew she was home.” His head snapped around, and he stared at Trace as he followed with, “You find out who the asshole from last night was?”
Trace sipped his coffee and glanced around the table. “At this point, we know his name—William Waters—but other than that, we don’t have anything more to go on.”
“Who does he work for?”
RT laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “If he works for anyone, I’d be surprised.”
“What does that mean?” Colby inquired.
“The guy’s a fucking idiot,” RT explained. “He hopped the wall, walked in through the gate, and we tackled him. He damn near pissed his pants when he saw the dogs, and when the police showed up, his lips were sewn up tight.”
“Fuck,” Colby grumbled, expressing Trace’s exact sentiment when he’d learned as much from RT in the wee hours of the morning.
“What else do we know?” Hunter asked.
“We know that we’re twelve months in, one attempted kidnapping, one successful kidnapping, a house blown to shit, a car chase, and now an intruder… But not a damn thing on why these people are after Marissa,” Conner answered snidely.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clay shouted angrily. “It’s been a fucking year and we still don’t know a damn thing? Trace? Weren’t you the one tackling this?”
Not necessarily, no. But Trace opted to answer anyway. “I know exactly how long it’s been,” Trace countered, trying to hang on to his temper. He had to remind himself that everyone was stressed with the situation, not just him. “It’s not like I can lure these bastards out of hiding.”
“I thought that was the plan?” Hunter asked seriously, looking around at the group.
From the get-go, Trace hadn’t agreed with the plan to use Marissa as bait. He was pretty sure no one else had been all that comfortable with the directive, either, but the majority had decided that finding the bastards who’d been targeting her was their one and only priority. They’d run out of options. As well as patience.
Trace wasn’t sure when they had finally realized the threat wasn’t going to go away on its own, but even he would admit they’d taken too damn long in making the decision.
Maybe it was after the second safe house she’d been stashed in had been leaked, or possibly the third, when they’d successfully abducted her. No matter what, it had taken too fucking long.
“And we’ve tried that, remember? They’re not taking the bait,” Trace replied.
“Nothing from the guys who tried to run you down in Connecticut?” It was TJ’s turn to interrogate.
“Nope. Two of ’em got away,” RT explained.
“But we know they’re workin’ for someone?” TJ asked.
“Yeah,” RT said seriously, glancing at Trace briefly. “In fact, we’re fairly certain that the Adorites are involved.”
The only sound at the table was a couple of deep inhales.
“Why do you think that?” Conner asked, his eyes narrowed on RT.
RT went on to explain about the article and the information he’d managed to get from Marissa—which wasn’t much at all. No one said a word as he spoke, and when he finished, the table remained silent.
“It’s like she’s bein’ chased by a ghost,” RT said conclusively.
Whoever it was, Trace was getting damned tired of the games this asshole was playing.
“If I may,” Austin—the resident tech genius—said, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “As of right now, we’ve got nothing else. I ran down the license plate on the Malibu from Connecticut but got nowhere. Stolen plates.”
“You trackin’ anything else?” Trace questioned.
“Unfortunately, nothin’ else to go on,” Austin stated in that laid-back drawl of his. “Since the dumb ass was caught last night, I figure the rest of them’ll lie low for a while.”
Or maybe that had been the plan all along. For William Waters to be captured. A distraction, maybe?
Had it not been for Austin and the shit he’d uncovered a few weeks ago, the topic of the discussion they were having now would’ve been entirely different. Likely it would’ve involved making burial plans for one of their own. Again. The thought made Trace’s gut tighten. Marissa’s younger brother had somehow managed to intercept the communication regarding her Connecticut location—although he wasn’t able to trace it—as well as the orders to either retrieve her or kill her, no particular preference.
“So what’s the plan now?” Casper asked, looking over at Bryce, then at RT.
“I’m meeting with Max Adorite this afternoon,” RT stated firmly.
What the fuck? “I’m going with you,” Trace insisted.
RT once again glanced at Trace but didn’t respond, then turned his attention back to Casper and Bryce.
Casper glanced at Bryce once more. “You plan to keep her here until we have somethin’ to go on?”
“Unless someone has a better idea,” Bryce said, his head in his hands, sounding defeated. “Her mother is sick of us carting her off, and I agree with her. I know Marissa has to be t
ired of it, too.”
“She is.” The soft but stern voice came from behind them, and Trace shot a look over his shoulder to see Marissa standing near the breakfast bar with Courtney.
Sighing, he looked back at Marissa’s father. His gut told him this wasn’t going to go well.
□«»□«»□«»□
It wasn’t unusual to find a Kogan or a Trexler camping out at one or the other’s house, but to find them—more than one, at that—sitting in her parents’ kitchen that early in the morning meant Marissa had been right. Whatever Casper had summoned Courtney for had been about her. If it weren’t, they would’ve been at the Sniper 1 offices, not at the house. Even then, Marissa had to wonder why they’d chosen the house instead.
As she stood waiting for one of them to acknowledge her, Marissa glanced around at the men. Her brothers, her father, her cousins Evan and Tanner, and her uncle TJ were there, along with Casper and the Kogan boys. It looked as though Liz, Steph, and Emily had decided to sit this one out. Not unusual, though. Since her mother, her Aunt Steph, and Courtney’s mother managed the financial and public relations end of things, that was generally par for the course.
Marissa put her hands on her hips and pinned her father with a glare, doing her best not to look at Trace. No matter how hard she tried, when Trace Kogan was anywhere in the vicinity, her eyes always tended to stray to him.
Not this time. She was too pissed to be deterred.
“What’s goin’ on?” she questioned as she stepped closer.
“Baby girl—” Bryce began, but Marissa quickly cut him off.
“Don’t, Daddy. Don’t shut me out.”
“No one’s shutting you out,” Bryce said adamantly, although he was trying to keep his voice down, she knew. “We’re just talkin’ right now.”
She got that. Truly. But if anyone should be included in this conversation, she was that person. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she spoke her thoughts aloud, “Good, then I can be included. I deserve to have a say in this.”
Marissa could tell that her statement didn’t sit well with the rest of them, but at this point, she really didn’t give a shit. They’d been making decisions for her for far too long. It was time she was included in the plans.
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 13