Unmasking Evil: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Holt, Desiree

  She gnawed on her thumb, a bad habit she wished she could break.

  Grey shook his head. “I can’t say this enough times. If this guy is killing anyone who comes forward on a rape, what’s to stop him from going after you? You’re kicking up dirt in his playground. And no one was ever charged, with either the rapes or the killings.”

  “Which is why he keeps getting away with it.”

  He nodded. “I just want you to look at every angle here. If it’s someone as powerful as you think—and I agree with you on that—he’ll have his eye on everything and killing is obviously not a problem for him. A couple of the girls who were killed were just visitors in the area.”

  “Fresh pickings,” Grey pointed out.

  “It baffles me that he’s still free.”

  “Because he leaves no evidence and kills victims who speak out. All those cases are still open investigations.”

  “Going nowhere,” she reminded him.

  “I’ll say again, he has to have an inside track somewhere. Go out there and you don’t know who or what you’ll be stirring up.” He studied her with those eyes that could see everything. “I just wish you’d change your mind.”

  “Grey, someone went to the trouble of emailing me and drawing me into this. There has to be a connection. I have to follow it.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay out there? I mean emotionally. Revisiting the scene, as they say.”

  “I won’t be going anywhere near my stepfather’s ranch,” she assured him. “Hey, we haven’t even exchanged two words since I left there. You can bet he was damn glad to get rid of me. Maybe he’s forgotten all about me by now.”

  He shook his head. “How can he not even want to know what’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “I’m nothing to him. I hated him from the day my mother married him. When I was thirteen, he was already looking to arrange a business marriage for me as soon as I turned eighteen. And my mother was no help at all. She couldn’t understand why a marriage into wealth and status didn’t appeal to me the way it did to her.”

  “That’s something I don’t understand.”

  “I loved my mother, but she never got over my dad leaving her, and she was swept off her feet by a real asshole. Roger Holland is arrogant, filthy rich, and travels in high society. She thrived on being the society hostess and rubbing elbows with the world’s elite. He knew I hated him and, when I balked at his plans, he wrote me off. Anyway, I’m going. I found a great cabin to rent. There’s a whole group of them clustered at the foothills of the Crazy Mountains. I haven’t exactly broadcast my intentions, so I’m sure my target has no idea that I am trying to identify him.”

  “Yet.”

  “What?”

  “He has no idea yet.”

  She sighed again. “Grey, I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, you will,” he agreed, “because I’m getting you protection.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No, you are not sending someone with me.”

  “That’s right, I’m not. But I called Hank Patterson in Eagle Rock. He heads the Brotherhood Protectors. I told him what you needed, and he’s assigning one of his best to you. A former SEAL named Scot Nolan. He’ll be waiting when you get to your cabin.”

  “Grey, this man I’m trying to find, whoever he is, has no idea I’m hunting him. That I’m digging into these cases. And I’ll fly well under the radar. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “If he’s as powerful as you think, your radar won’t do you any good. And this man’s a hell of a lot more than a babysitter.”

  “Then maybe I can smoke the asshole out.”

  “Not your smartest idea,” Grey objected. “But if that happens, you’ll definitely need protection. I take care of my friends, Jenna. Deal with it.”

  Jenna gritted her teeth. “If I’m walking around with a guy who might as well have a sign on him that says bodyguard, how far do you think I’ll get?”

  “A lot further than if you’re dead. Anyway, Hank Patterson and I got it all figured out. Nolan’s going to be your boyfriend.”

  “My—” She’d stared at him. “Oh, great. I barely hook up with anyone I know, never mind a complete stranger. No. Just no.”

  “Too bad. We’ve got it all worked out. Hank’s already made the assignment, and Scot Nolan has your file so he can know as much about you as anyone else does.”

  “This sucks, Grey.”

  “Not as much as being raped again or dead,” he pointed out. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about him crossing the line. Scot’s a loner. Hank says he wishes the guy would find a nice woman and settle down but, he seems to be fine by himself.”

  “Good, because I am, too.”

  So here she was, about to face her demons.

  I can do this. I can definitely do this. No, I have to do this or I’ll never have any peace.

  She murmured the words over and over to herself as she steered her rental SUV down the highway from Bozeman to the cabin she’d rented at the foothills of the Crazy Mountains. She hadn’t wanted to come back here, but if she was going to see this thing through to the end, finally, she had to do it. But she wasn’t staying anywhere near Helena, that was for damn sure. Nor had she bothered to let her stepfather—a man she’d hated from the day she met him—know she’d be here. That would be defeating the purpose.

  Then the emails showed up, and everything came rushing back like a tidal wave, engulfing her. Thinking about it now sent memories skittering through her brain, along with the words of her therapist.

  Rape is the most demeaning kind of attack. It robs the victim of…

  Out of nowhere, the feel of hard masculine hands covering her eyes and mouth popped into her brain, choking her. The scent of alcohol so strong. Someone dragging her into a room, throwing her on the bed—

  Choking, she swerved to the shoulder and stopped the car, slamming her hand against the steering wheel

  No, no, no. I will not think of it.

  Deep breaths. That’s what her psychologist always told her. Take long deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. That’s what she’d been doing for the past ten years, ever since she’d decided dealing with the aftermath by herself wasn’t working.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  Damn. She’d thought she had the recurring images and sensations under control. She rolled down her window and drew in a deep breath of the fresh Crazy Mountains air, spiced with the essence of white birch and lodgepole pines.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  She felt all her inner muscles relax, the tension easing as it usually did, her breathing evening out. She closed her eyes and counted to fifty, as her therapist had told her to do, and called up pleasant images—the sun setting over the water, A child on a playground, a dog chasing a stick on the beach. After a few moments she felt calm enough to continue. She was almost there. Almost in a safe place.

  And hungry. She’d either been on a plane or driving most of the day. Digging in the console, she found the last of a package of snack crackers and chowed them down. Calmer now, she put the car in Drive and pulled out onto the roadway again. It pissed her off that even after all these years, any little tiny piece of memory could still set off a panic attack. With effort she focused on the highway and the magnificent scenery on either side. The beauty of the Crazy Mountains and Yellowstone National Park should be enough to soothe anyone, right?

  Then she remembered Grey’s insistence on the bodyguard. Even now, she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream or be grateful. She was more than grateful for Grey’s friendship. He had been her rock so many times when she’d been on the edge of a meltdown. But, except for him, she had enough trouble dealing with men as it was. How would she be able to handle having one around twenty-four seven?

  She was still talking to herself when she rounded a curve in the road and found herself in the little enclave of log cabins. Twenty of them. That’s what the rental agent had told her, but each one far enough from the others to ensure privacy. Every porch had a number on it s
o she cruised slowly down the road, checking each one.

  Then she realized she didn’t need any number at all. A big pickup truck was parked in front of cabin fourteen, and a tall, lean man who looked as if he ate nails for breakfast stood on the porch. He was well over six feet, his dark-brown hair slightly shaggy, framing a face defined by high cheekbones and a beard that shielded his jaw.

  Warrior. That was her first thought.

  Her second was, He doesn’t look very friendly. She could almost see the wall around him.

  And third? Here stood the first man to ever kindle a tiny flame of desire and penetrate the ice that enclosed her body. A need that made her nipples harden and an unfamiliar throbbing set up in the heart of her sex. Oh my god! How did this happen right now, of all times, after years of failure and closing herself off? She wasn’t sure she’d even know how to act. Life was playing an unfair trick on her.

  Exactly how was she supposed to do this now?

  Bodyguard, she reminded herself. That’s what he was and all he was going to be. But she trembled nevertheless at the sudden assault of unfamiliar feelings.

  Stop it! Now!

  She had to keep telling herself she’d be a big disappointment to him.

  She parked next to him and climbed out of the SUV, stretching a little because, between the plane and the rental vehicle, she’d been sitting a lot today.

  “Hello.” She managed a smile for him. Be friendly, she told herself. You’ll be sharing a cabin—actually everything every day—for the duration of this trip.

  But she guessed smiles were not in his repertoire because he just nodded, his face a stone mask. Then he walked down the two steps to the little parking area and held out his hand.

  “Scot Nolan.”

  Oh, well. At least he was courteous.

  “Jenna Donovan.”

  “I know.” He shook her hand once then dropped it.

  Inexplicably, her hand tingled from the contact and heat shot up her arm. What the hell?

  He shifted his stance, moving his head slowly from left to right.

  Jenna looked around, her forehead creased in a frown. She didn’t see anyone near them. A little way down the road, she saw a couple with two kids climbing into a van, but they didn’t seem very dangerous.

  “You think someone is watching us? I’m not sure anyone even knows I’m here yet.”

  “Did you call the sheriff before you flew out here?”

  “I did, but I didn’t exactly get a warm reception.”

  Scot lifted one eyebrow. “What did he say?”

  She nodded. “I told him I had read about the murders and wanted to get some details from him. He told me he couldn’t release information in an ongoing investigation. He also wanted to know what possible interest I could have in a case way out here in the boonies.”

  “I’m sure you know that’s pretty much standard in situations like this.”

  She sighed. “Yes, but I was kind of hoping I could talk him into at least sharing some information with me. He sounded more irritated than anything. Still, he did agree, grudgingly, to meet with me, after I told him I’d camp out in his lobby until he did.”

  “Do you want me to call Hank and see if he can put some pressure on him?”

  Jenna shook her head. “No, thanks. That would only piss him off more. I’ll see what he has to say to me in person. “

  “He could be under a lot of pressure from a number of different factions,” Scot pointed out. “Nobody outside of his office has made the connection between the rapes and the killings because no one knows about the rapes. Right? If this guy is as powerful as you think, and he’s really from around here, it’s possible he’s got a line into the sheriff’s office to bury this.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Bury nine rapes? Nine murders?”

  Scot shrugged. “It’s not unheard of. And if that’s true, he probably already knows you’re chasing this.”

  Her stomach muscles clenched. She’d thought about that but hoped she could do it under the radar. Stupid of her.

  “You’re right.” Of course he was.

  “Let’s get your stuff inside.”

  Scot headed for her SUV. When he moved, his untucked shirt shifted, and she saw a gun tucked into the small of his back. She’d seen enough artillery doing her stories to recognize it as a Glock 19. Well! At least he had good firepower.

  “I can get my stuff,” she protested, pressing the fob to unlock the hatch.

  “No problem. I’ve got it. Then we’ll go over the ground rules.”

  Ground rules? Was she being protected or kept a prisoner.? Thanks, Grey.

  But she could hear his voice in her head.

  “Better pissed off than dead.”

  Hidden Danger

  And here is a taste of

  Introduction

  Something is wrong in Alix Bonner’s marriage. Maybe in her life. How can she pick two losers in a row? But her husband’s lack of attention is nothing compared to the shocking graphic she sees on their television screen when she arrives home unexpectedly. Now she has to get away before he knows she’s seen it…and erases her.

  Charlie Zalman—otherwise known as Charlie Zero or Zero—is heading home after a long assignment for Brotherhood Protectors. All he wants is a hot shower, a cold beer and a soft bed. He’s still nursing the damage to his arm that got him his medical discharge from the SEALs and chased away the woman he thought loved him. No more women, at least for more than one night. Until he finds Alix Bonner stranded on the highway and frightened out of her mind.

  Lee Bonner has built an empire on corrupt business but now it seems to be closing in on him. Someone has snitched to the feds and his wife has seen information never meant for her eyes. She can tighten that noose around her neck if he doesn’t find her.

  But he doesn’t know about Brotherhood Protectors, trained former military led by Hank Patterson, who will do anything to save their own. In less than twenty-four hours everyone’s life will change.

  About Desiree Holt

  USA Today best-selling and award-winning author Desiree Holt writes everything from romantic suspense and contemporary on a variety of heat levels up to erotic, a genre in which she is the oldest living author. She has been referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, and is a winner of the EPIC E-Book Award, the Holt Medallion and a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice nominee. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times and numerous other national and international publications.

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  Original Brotherhood Protectors Series

  By Elle james

  Brotherhood Protectors Series

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  Brotherhood Protectors Vol 1

  About Elle James

  ELLE JAMES also writing as MYLA JACKSON is a New York Times and USA
Today Bestselling author of books including cowboys, intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edges of their seats. With over eighty works in a variety of sub-genres and lengths she has published with Harlequin, Samhain, Ellora’s Cave, Kensington, Cleis Press, and Avon. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, snow skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories. Learn more about Elle James at www.ellejames.com

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