“You did that? I tried that once and got caught.”
“You have to get the signature down pretty well.”
“Yeah, my mom has an odd way of signing her name. I guess that’s how they caught me.”
He came back to the stove with a pot filled with the potatoes, sitting it on the already hot burner.
“And I cooked dinner most nights.”
“Who taught you?”
“Taught myself. I checked out cookbooks from the library, learned a bunch of recipes that my sister and my mom would eat, and just rotated them.”
“Is this one of them?”
“This is a more grownup version of one, yes.”
“I’m honored.”
He went to the fridge and grabbed a stick of butter, peeling the paper away and setting it aside to use in the potatoes. “Don’t be. You’ll hate me in a week because of all the fat in the recipes I know.”
“I doubt it.”
He paused for a minute, picking up his wine glass to drink. I watched him, finding myself admiring things about him that I never noticed on another man, like the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed, like the way his long fingers held the stem of his glass, like the way his white shirt contrasted with his dark skin. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, setting them over the back of the couch in the living room, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I worked all day with men in suits, but none of them made a suit look quite as sexy as Alexander did.
“Where are you from originally?”
“Here in Austin.”
“You grew up here?”
“On the other side of town, but, yeah. Why?”
I blushed a little, afraid I was about to insult him. “You have a little bit of an accent. I thought that maybe—”
“My mom was from Brazil. I grew up speaking Portuguese.”
“Really?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “My dad was in the military as a young man, and he spent some time in South America. I’m not quite sure where or when or why…my mom was never clear on how they met. But he brought her to Texas when he left the military and married her.”
“Then he left.”
“Yeah. She wasn’t really prepared to be alone with two kids. She was a citizen by then, and she could have held down a job, but she didn’t have an education or any work experience, so she didn’t know what to do. And then she got sick…”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes seeming to see right through me. “The truth is, she never should have come here. She had family, a support system back in Brazil. But she couldn’t afford to take us back, and they couldn’t afford to come here. She would have been better off staying there and meeting some nice guy who wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“She had you.”
“Yeah, well, I was five. I wasn’t quite enough.”
“I doubt she felt that way.”
“She killed herself when I was sixteen.”
He said it so matter-of-factly. I wanted to cry for the little boy he once was, the boy who tried so hard to take care of his mother only to have her commit one of the most selfish acts a human being can commit. How does a child deal with the finality of something like that? And what about his sister? How had it messed up his sister? How much guilt did he carry around for the two of them?
“Alexander…”
“I don’t know why I just blurted that out.”
I reached over and grabbed an edge of his sleeve, tugging him toward me. He came willingly, his eyes glued to the glass in his hands. God forbid he should look at me. But then I touched the side of his face and our eyes met. He suddenly leaned into me and stole a kiss, his lips like silk sheets against naked skin. He tasted of the wine and something else, something like how I imagined sunshine would taste. I slid my arms around his neck, wanting to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss. But then he suddenly stiffened and pulled away.
“What?” I mumbled, a little discombobulated from his sudden disappearance.
“The perimeter alarm.”
He’d pulled his phone from his pocket and was staring at something on the screen. And then a loud knocking began on the front door. He immediately pulled me off the counter and pushed me into the depths of the apartment, shoving me through the door of my bedroom.
“Stay here while I go check it out.”
My heart was pounding as I watched him walk away. Who was at the door? Would an attacker knock? And if this was the person behind my death threats, did that mean Alexander would walk out of my life tomorrow as quickly as he’d walked into it?
I certainly hoped not.
Chapter 6
At the Compound
David sat on the couch in the small living room he shared with his little family, a laptop on his lap. His brother’s face filled the screen, the familiar lines of it creating a weird combination of nostalgia and weariness in him.
“We’re averaging three to four cases a week. And then we’ve got the background checks and other things going on. We’ve been in the black for more than two months already.”
“Even with all the construction costs?”
“Even with the construction costs.”
“That’s impressive, brother.”
“I told you a new office would do well. And we’re getting cases from New Mexico and Louisiana, too. It won’t be long before we’ll have to open another office.”
“Maybe I can talk Kirkland into opening an office in New Orleans.”
David laughed. “I’m sure he’d love it.”
Kirkland was one of the original operatives at Gray Wolf. He left almost two years ago to become a cop with the Los Angeles Police department. He’d always kind of admired the detectives they worked with there, especially Detective Emily Warren, the wife of the police chief there in Santa Monica when they first opened their doors. From what David had heard, Kirkland was perfectly happy there and content with his home life. He and Mabel had been married for more than four years now, nearly as long as David and Ricki. And they had a boy just a few months younger than Chase.
Most of the original operatives at Gray Wolf had moved on. Kirkland was a cop, Joss had quit to be a full-time mother to her girls, Aiden and McKelty. David had even heard rumors that she was thinking of having another, maybe a boy this time. And, of course, David had come to Austin to open the new branch office. Donovan was the only one who stayed with Gray Wolf, but he no longer went out in the field. He’d moved more into management. Now he ran the technical department in David’s place. And he, too, was still happily married to his beautiful wife of five years. And father to eight-month-old Madeline.
It was funny how a group of unhappy, but confirmed bachelors—and bachelorette—had found themselves falling in love and settling so easily into marriage, one right after the other.
Even Ash. As they spoke over Skype, David could see his kids playing in the background. Ford was four and a half, and his little sister was two.
“Everything’s going smoothly, then.”
“Most everything.”
Ash’s eyebrows rose. He could read his brother well, even over the computer. “What’s the problem?”
David dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to find the best way to ask for the advice he needed. “We’ve been following Gray Wolf protocol almost to the letter, and it’s worked well so far. But we’re a different company with more of a focus on technology. And I think we need someone—a consultant of sorts—to come in and help us figure out how to manage the operatives a little better. They need more support, more…” He didn’t know how to say it without boosting his brother’s ego more than he already had. But he knew that what they really needed was a manager with military experience who could manage the place a little more efficiently.
Or teach David how to keep things a little more structured.
It wasn’t that the operatives didn’t respect David. It was that they were always sort of leading him around by the nos
e, sort of doing their own thing without really involving him in the decision process. They knew more about what needed to happen in most of their cases, and they didn’t bother to run it by David because they knew he wouldn’t understand most of what they were talking about. And they were pretty bad about getting their reports turned in on time.
“I know a guy,” Ash said without needing to hear more. David was almost relieved, but also annoyed. How was it that Ash always knew just what to say? “His name is Kipling McKay. He was one of my superior officers on my first tour of duty in Afghanistan.”
“Kipling?”
“He’s had a hard time recently, but I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out.”
“Yeah? What kind of hard time?”
Ash glanced back at his kids, clearly reluctant to discuss it. He sighed, as he turned back to the computer. “I’ve tried to get him to help out around here. Asked him to be an operative a few times, even asked him to come in and take your place, but he turned me down every time. But I think he’d be a great asset at GWS 2. You’ll just have to be persistent with your request.”
David felt the weight of that suggestion fall on his shoulders. Just what he wanted—someone else he had to beg to do what he wanted, when he wanted.
“Call Kipling,” Ash said. “I’ll text you his contact info. He’s the man you need, David. Trust me.”
“I trust you. But I also know you. This isn’t going to be an easy task.”
“Is anything ever truly easy?”
David ended the Skype call and set the computer aside. He got up and stopped in the doorway of Chase’s room, watching as Ricki read to him from one of his favorite storybooks. She caught him watching and winked at him, her smile lifting his spirits in a way no one else could possibly do.
Despite the fact that his brother annoyed the shit out of him, David had learned the value of family the moment he met Ricki, the moment she pulled him out of his own head and convinced him that there was more to life than the guilt that had been holding him back for too long. Most people couldn’t say for certain where they’d be if they hadn’t met the people who populate their lives. But David knew. David knew he would still be in a wheelchair, hating the world, and living in a cottage on his brother’s property if he hadn’t met Ricki.
He was grateful every day for her presence in his life.
He’d call Kipling McKay in the morning. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy his family.
Chapter 7
Alexander
I jerked open the front door of the apartment, expecting a gun or a knife or some sort of assault. What I got was a beautiful woman, who looked an awful lot like Tierney, throwing her arms around my neck.
“You must be the bodyguard. I can’t thank you enough for watching over my daughter!”
She brushed past me, carrying a large canvas bag into the kitchen. She stood at the counter like she lived here or something and began to take bottles of wine out of the bag.
“Where is my daughter, anyway?”
“Here, Momma,” Tierney said, coming into the kitchen from where I’d left her in the bedroom. The two women hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, the mother rocking Tierney in her arms as if she was a child.
I felt like a voyeur. I turned away and closed the front door, pushing the security bolt and the chain into place, as though those things would protect this house from insanity.
They were talking about me when I went back into the kitchen. I could tell because they had their heads close together, and I thought I heard one of them say something about abs. When they realized I was there, they pulled apart and stood awkwardly for a few moments.
“Momma,” Tierney said, avoiding my eyes when she gestured at me, “this is Alexander Garcia. He’s from Gray Wolf Security.”
“It’s nice to meet you properly,” Tierney’s mother said, holding out a hand to me. I took it and squeezed it firmly, but not too firmly, just like one of my high school teachers taught me to do.
“I’m Mare, by the way.”
“Mare Michaels?”
She smiled with delight. “I am. How do you know that?”
“A guy I work with is a real art lover. He was talking about your show downtown for weeks before it happened last month.”
Mare’s smile widened. “Well, that’s good to know. I was beginning to wonder if I had any fans around here anymore.”
“You do. If you see a big guy with gray hair come into one of your shows, that’s Tony. He’s one of our operatives at GWS 2.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
Mare turned to Tierney and winked. “I’ll get out of the way now. I just wanted to bring that wine over.”
“Why don’t you stay,” I said. “We were about to sit down to dinner.”
“I thought it smelled good in here. I assume you cooked.”
Tierney blushed at her mother’s not so subtle jab at her cooking skills. But then her mother laughed and hugged Tierney. “Just teasing, you know.”
“I know.”
The two ladies went into the dining room, and I followed a minute later with the steaks set out on a platter. Tierney helped and we got the food on the table in three trips. Then we settled down and that’s when the fun began.
Mare was a funny woman, and she wasn’t shy about telling stories about her daughter. Before we were even halfway through the steaks, I knew all about her potty training woes and her awkward first date in high school.
“She wore this cute little pink blouse that she tucked into a black skirt. Already practicing to be a stuffy lawyer, I think. But the blouse didn’t like being tucked because it had these little plastic discs sewn all over it and it tore halfway through the date. She ended up spending the whole night trying to hide the rip from the guy. He thought she had some sort of seizure disorder or something!”
Tierney was blushing so bright that her face almost looked as though she’d been out in the sun far too long. I wanted to support her, but I couldn’t help the laughter that rolled out of my throat. I could imagine her in that situation and that made it that much funnier.
“Well, you’re not the only one who had bad dates. I once went on a date without my wallet and had to ask the girl to pay for everything. And, of course, I had insisted on going to the most expensive restaurant in town.”
“Oh, that’s nothing on my worst date,” Mare said. “I once went on an entire date with my skirt tucked into the back of my pantyhose. The guy didn’t bother to tell me until the date was over. Needless to say, I never answered his calls again.”
We all laughed. Mare poured more wine, and Tierney sighed over the meal.
“So good,” she said in a breathless tone that brought to mind moans of ecstasy.
I found myself looking at her, watching her lick chunks of mashed potato from the end of her fork. She wasn’t aware of my gaze—and that made it that much sexier. I had to remind myself that I had been hired to protect this woman—this lawyer—not to admire her method of eating.
I straightened up, my attempt at nonchalance undermined by Mare’s knowing glance.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Alexander?” Mare suddenly asked.
“Mother!” Tierney groaned.
“Why do you ask, Mare? Interested?”
She laughed. “If I was ten years younger.”
“You can’t be a day over forty. That’s not much older than me.”
“Oh, I wish!” She smacked my hand lightly. “What a charming man!”
“What is Mare short for, anyway?”
“Mary Elizabeth. My parents were traditional Catholics.”
“Then you must have a sister named Mary Magdalene.”
“Close. My sister is Mary Ruth.”
I laughed, aware that she was being honest. She laughed, too, touching my hand again, this time allowing her hand to linger. Tierney suddenly stood up and began gathering the dishes quite loudly.
“Why don’t you help, Mother?”
Mare gl
anced at Tierney, a weariness coming into her eyes. But she got up and did as she was told. In a moment, I could hear water running in the kitchen as they began the dishes. I followed with the empty wine bottles and my own glass, but they were talking, and I paused to hear what they were saying.
“He has a girlfriend, Mother,” I heard Tierney hiss to Mare. “I overheard him on the phone once. He called her ‘babe’ and ‘darling.’ Some girl named Vanessa.”
I started to go in there and correct her, but then I remembered the feel of her lips on mine. I couldn’t allow that to happen again. That was one of the first things David lectured us on when he hired us. You don’t have sexual relationships with your target. The ironic thing was, I’d heard a rumor that Ricki was one of David’s targets when he was working for his brother at the original Gray Wolf.
But I’d also heard she was a hacker he traced while he worked at the FBI and that’s how they met, so I didn’t know how true either rumor was.
So I turned around and retreated to the living room, tugging my laptop out of its bag. I checked the cameras outside the apartment. Then I pulled up the cameras at Vanessa’s house. I spotted her immediately in the spare bedroom she’d turned into an office not long after we bought the house. She hadn’t gone in there a whole lot since the attack, so it was nice to see her in there now. She was working at her computer, her lips moving like she was talking to someone. But I knew what she was doing. She was talking her story out to the empty room.
Vanessa had been a creative writing major. She wanted to be a novelist. She’d been writing short stories since she was old enough to put a sentence together. And this was how she’d always done it, talking aloud to her characters—like she couldn’t plot a story without hearing the dialogue out loud.
When I saw things like this, it gave me hope. It made me believe that she might, one day, be the same lively, happy girl I’d once known.
But then I moved the camera and saw that she had the camera footage in a reduced window in the corner of her computer so that she could watch it while she was working. That’s when I began to wonder if she would ever move past her intense fears of the world around her.
DEFENDING TIERNY (Gray Wolf Security, Texas Book 1) Page 6