“Do I smell cookies?” I ask as Sierra moves down the hallway.
“Yes,” Luke says. “Because apparently now Lauren and her baby can eat only cookies, cucumbers, and ranch dip.”
“What happened to the ice cream?” I say as I join him in the hallway.
“It makes her sick now.” He shuts the door.
“Sierra!”
At the sound of Julie greeting Sierra like she already knows her, I give Luke a quiet, “We need to talk in private.”
“I assumed as much,” Luke says, as our women disappear around the corner. Luke and I follow, bringing his newly remodeled apartment into view, the new floors some kind of dark grayish brown wood. The entire place looking like a spread from a magazine I’ve never read, nor will I ever read. The formerly flat ceiling is now inset low. The living area to the left is done in muted white couches and a boxy table. We head in the other direction toward the open kitchen where Lauren sits at the head of a long teakwood table, I’ve never seen before, with a glass of milk and cookies in front of her. I look at Luke. “To think you used to just have some brown couch and a glass table someone told you to buy.”
Luke laughs. “Marriage changes things, man, and not for the worse.”
“You want a cookie?” Julie asks, looking every bit the Marilyn Monroe twin people call her, as she carries a tray to the table.
“I would love a cookie,” Sierra says, sitting down on a chair next to Lauren that looks like a damn tree trunk. Who wants a tree trunk in their house?
“I really need a damn cookie,” I say, walking to the table and taking two, before giving Sierra a wink and then joining Luke at the island a few feet away. Both of us sitting on some fancy silver stools, facing the girls. “That’s the new Prada release,” Julie says, fawning over Sierra’s new bags. “I didn’t know this was out already.”
“Can I see it?” Lauren asks.
Meanwhile I down my last cookie and interrupt with a more urgent matter. “Do I have to be pregnant to get milk around here?”
Sierra looks up at me at the same time Lauren does, both of them brunette beauties. A fact that has me flashing back to Royce’s furious reaction to Blake taking the Ju-Ju case when the women look like Lauren and Kara, and now, Sierra. I’d thought he was overly protective. I don’t anymore. Funny how a shot of mace and the woman who tortured me with it have quickly changed my perspective.
“About that milk, Asher,” Lauren says, snapping me back to the present. “You get milk if you’re pregnant or an asshole. You qualify as at least one of those two things.”
“You’ve been hanging around Blake too much,” I say. “You used to be so nice.”
She laughs. “You know I love you and you can have all the milk you want. It’s Julie and Luke’s. I have my own.” She looks at Sierra. “I hear you have a Ph.D. in psychology? And you’ve actually interviewed several living serial killers.”
Sierra’s gaze shoots to mine and Luke hands me a pint of milk. “That’s my big mouth talking there, Sierra,” Luke says. “Lauren’s a criminal defense attorney. I told her I thought you might help her on a few of her cases.”
“What’s said in this room stays in this room,” I tell her.
Lauren covers Sierra’s hand with hers. “What happens in this building is like Vegas. It stays here.” She smiles at Sierra. “Sometimes it’s even just as exciting.”
And there it is. One of the reasons I brought Sierra here tonight. I wanted her to feel the bond that is this family unit, be it family by blood or those extended members like myself. Sierra shares a look of understanding with me before she smiles at Lauren. “Thank you. And no, I don’t have a Ph.D. Not yet. Close. Or maybe never.”
“Never say never,” I say. “Not in the Walker clan.”
“We’d love to hear about the interviews you’ve done,” Lauren says. “And we’re going to help make calls on the Ju-Ju case tomorrow. Julie has client meetings, but I’ve been so sick that I’ve been taking Mondays and Fridays off when I can.”
“You both practice criminal law?” Sierra asks.
“Isn’t Royce back tomorrow?” I ask quickly, trying to avoid the topic of Julie’s legal specialty of high profile divorces, that might hit a hotspot.
“He got delayed,” Lauren tells me. “He won’t be back until Wednesday.”
Which means I’m going to need to call him. The doorbell rings and before Luke can even get up, Blake and Kara are walking into the room. “Do I smell cookies?” Blake says, making a beeline for the kitchen.
“Do not eat all of my cookies, Blake,” Lauren warns while Kara sits down next to Sierra.
“Of course I won’t eat all of the pregnant woman’s cookies,” Blake says, already at the table and taking two of them. “Why would you think I would be that cruel?’
“Because you’re a pig,” I say. “We all know it.” Lauren and Kara chime in in agreement, and there is laughter that pretty much sums up the room’s agreement on that point. There is also an exchange between Sierra and Kara that ends in more laughter, with their heads tilted low in conversation, in a budding friendship.
Conversation flows for a good fifteen minutes, and there is a point in the midst of many voices and more laughter when Sierra’s lashes lower, a bittersweet look on her face. She likes them. She trusts them, but she’s confused in some way. I eye Luke and he says, “Now?”
“Now.”
“Blake?” he asks.
“Just you right now,” I say, wanting to talk about Sierra, but also Kyle, and to do so with someone objective about Alvarez, which Blake is not.
We both stand and Luke indicates the cantilevered wood and steel staircase. I pause behind Sierra, my hands on her shoulders, and lean down to her ear. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”
She covers my hand with hers and nods, and I catch Lauren’s warm look at our intimacy. They get it. I’m crazy about her. I have to free her. I lean in and kiss Sierra before I leave her there and follow Luke up the stairs that are just wide enough for one. We enter what equates to a den with a corner bar, pool table and a brown leather couch framing a stainless-steel fireplace, two matching chairs on either side of both.
Luke and I claim the pair of chairs that face the stairs, keeping any company in view. “Are we talking about Kyle or Sierra?” Luke asks.
“Both,” I say. “What’s your opinion on the Kyle-Alvarez situation?”
“I’m torn, man. The buzz about Alvarez being alive could be nothing more than the cartel trying to play a game with law enforcement or a rival cartel.”
“In other words, these rumors could float around for a lifetime,” I say. “Kyle and Myla can’t hide for the rest of theirs.”
“Agreed,” he says. “But I do think that the two of them being in Europe while we investigate is a good idea. And Myla was traumatized by that man. At least when we tell her, we can give her the facts.”
“We can’t let this drag out.”
“Agreed again,” Luke says, “But right now, we have Ju-Ju to deal with and whatever is going on with Sierra.”
We.
Not: me.
Not: my problem.
Not: her problem.
This is the part of the Walker clan I hope Sierra is starting to understand downstairs right now. “I need one of the Walker planes.”
“When?”
“Sunrise. I want to get there and get back as soon as possible and it’s not a short trip.”
“What can you tell me?”
“I’m going to Dallas to get the ammunition I need to make Sierra’s problem go away. But when I’m there, I’m going to talk Adam into joining us. Does that recruitment bonus still stand?”
“Hell yeah. We need him.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Do you need him while you’re there?”
“Yes.”
He studies me a few beats. “Do you need me?”
“I need you to protect Sierra.”
“That would be easier if you told me what was going on.”
“That’s why you brought her here. To get her familiar with everyone and how we operate.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Give me something here,” Luke says. “Give me a scale. On a scale of missions—Cambodia to Syria, how does this rank? How bad is this?”
Sierra steps into the room. “Bad enough for me to go to that safe house you offered me.”
I stand up and so does Luke. “You don’t need a safe house, Sierra,” I say. “You have me.”
“And me,” Luke says.
“I believe you,” she says. “I believe everyone in this house would help me.” She looks at me. “I know that’s why you brought me here and thank you. It worked. They’re great. They’re wonderful. They’re all wonderful.”
“Whatever you’re running from,” Luke says. “We can—”
“I’m not running,” she says. “I want to fight. I want to shut him down forever, if that is even possible, but I can’t do that while placing other people in the line of fire. I need to go to that safe house, Luke. You have to be the one to take me there. He can’t see it because he’s—we’re—It’s just—it’s the right move.”
“We’ll talk about it,” Luke says.
“We can talk on the way out of here,” she presses.
“Sierra,” I say.
“No, Asher,” she says. “No to whatever you’re going to say.”
“Whoever this is,” Luke interjects. “Or whatever this is—”
“Devin Marks,” Sierra shocks me by saying. “I’m his wife, who he wants dead. Are you ready for me to leave now?” She holds up a hand. “Don’t answer. Don’t be the hero like Asher right now. I’m going to do the right thing, the thing two SEALs would do. I’m leaving before someone gets hurt.” She turns and heads down the stairs.
The minute I turn to go down the stairs, I find Blake standing in front of me. “Welcome to your safe house,” he says.
My mind explodes with one word: No. No. No. No. What part of ‘I’m married and Asher is trying to get himself killed does this man not understand’? “Do you even know who Devin Marks is?” I demand.
“I’m ex-ATF, sweetheart. Yes. I know who he is.”
“What does the ATF have to do with him? He sells military weapons.”
“Some of which ended up in Mexico, in cartel hands, more than once.”
Asher’s hands come down on my shoulders. “Come sit down, Sierra.”
I turn to face him. “I’m married, Asher. To another man. What part of that do you not understand? And now they, all your people, know that fact.”
“Sierra—”
“Why don’t you get it?” I demand, curling my fingers around his shirt. “You can’t run off to Dallas and plot some attack. You can’t do it. I’m married to a man who will kill you all. He’s not you. I’m married to another man. I’m—”
He kisses me, and he kisses me like no one is watching, like he’d kissed me in the thrift store. His hands on my face, his lips on my lips and his tongue stroking deep, long, and when his mouth parts mine, he says. “That’s how much I care about your marriage to a man who wants to kill you.”
“You cannot—”
“I can,” he says. “I will.”
“They all know. They all know I’m married now.”
He lowers his forehead to mine. “Stop, Sierra. I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to leave.”
He pulls back and looks down at me. “You’re freaked out about me going to Dallas. I’m going to get the evidence you gathered. I’m going to get him. And I’m not going to let you go. I’m not backing away from this.”
My chest knots and I have a rare moment in all of this where I want to cry. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone to die because of me.”
He cups my face. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m okay. No one is going to die. That’s the reason we take action. To stop him from killing again. Come sit. We’ll figure it out. Yes?”
“You’re a stubborn, stubborn man.”
“And you’re a stubborn, brave woman.” He kisses me. “Come.” He laces his fingers with mine and I don’t pull away. I cave to the moment and let him walk me into the room, but I don’t give up on my cause, which is protecting him, because he’s not going to give up on me and protecting me. In other words, my only other option is to try to get the Walker brothers on my side and drag him out of this. With that in mind, I let Asher lead me further into the room to a chair, while he claims the one next to me and Blake and Luke sit across from us.
“I’m going to let you tell your story, Sierra,” Asher says, and I know this is because he doesn’t want to tell more than I want told. Because this man is pretty much perfect except for his hero complex.
“I married him thinking he was Prince Charming,” I tell the Walker brothers. “Turns out he’s the Beast under the bridge.” I pull the recorder from my pocket and play it for them.
When it’s over, Luke looks at Asher. “We should have killed him when we had the chance.”
“My exact thought,” Asher agrees.
“That was Norman Casey, the Deputy Director of Intelligence of the CIA, on that tape with Marks, wasn’t it?” Luke asks.
“Yes,” Asher says. “It was, and to make matters even more complicated, Sierra went to a federal agent in Dallas for help. He turned on her.”
“What’s the name?” Blake asks, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Dirk Bennett,” I say. “He’s high up the chain.”
He types a text message and then looks at us all. “I just group texted Royce and Kara and asked if either know him.”
“Devin Marks has connections in every agency and armed service operation,” I say. “People you think you trust are with him, I promise you. Dirk. I liked him. I thought he was a good guy and I don’t know why you want me to help with Ju-Ju or why I thought I could. I didn’t figure him out.”
Blake leans forward, arms on his knees. “When you’re studying a killer, you look for the bad you know exists, even if it’s in someone who is just a suspect. When you’re with someone who is supposed to be in law enforcement, you look for good because that’s what the fuck they are supposed to be.”
“And everyone in our inner circle knows this,” Asher assures me. “We know bad hides inside good all the damn time.”
“You can’t be sure everyone on your team is clean,” I argue. “It’s impossible.”
“You’re right,” Luke says. “But all of us have a handful of people we completely trust. When you bring that list together, it’s powerful.”
“We need to know what we’re bringing them together for, though,” Asher says, looking at me. “We need in that lock box.”
I want to tell him to back away. I want to tell him this is insanity. He knows. He reads me and says, “This isn’t just about our lives. Every weapon he sells to an enemy could kill an American solider or one of our allies’ soldiers.”
“Worse,” Luke says. “Innocent women and children, not to mention however many more people end up having the accidents you’ve accounted for.”
Now it’s my turn for a reality check. They’re right. It’s a thought I’ve had in the past, but staying sane when I had no option but to run meant setting it aside. I look at Asher. “The key is in my money belt in your safe.”
He gives me a nod and looks at Blake. “If I leave at sunrise—”
“If we leave at sunrise,” Luke says. “I’m coming with.”
Asher gives him a nod this time. “If we leave at sunrise,” he says, “we can watch the box for a day, and grab it and leave Tuesday. That gets me back in plenty of time to be at the bar Wednesday night.”
“I thought we weren’t due in until Friday?” I say.
“We’re on call for Wednesday and Thursday,” Asher explains, “and so far, I’ve been called into work both da
ys.”
Blake’s phone buzzes and he looks down at his messages. “Kara doesn’t know Agent Bennett, but Royce has heard of him.” He sets his phone on the round stone coffee table. “I’ll contact Royce on a secure line when we’re done and find out more,” he says to us all before focusing on me. “And we’ll look out for you here, Sierra. What you did to get here, what you’re doing now: It’s all the right choices and brave, very brave.”
“Agree one hundred percent,” Luke says. “And, Sierra. My wife is one of the top divorce attorneys in the country. She’s sought out by movie stars and athletes. And I promise you she will tell you this isn’t a marriage you’re in. It’s a prison with a death sentence that is his, not yours.”
This hasn’t gone as I thought it would in my mind. I didn’t get any sense talked into Asher. I made myself the scorned married bitch who is going to hurt Asher. “Do not underestimate him,” I say, standing up. “None of you get to die,” I say. “Not one of you. None of you.” I turn and start walking.
Asher is behind me an instant and just before we clear the wall, I stop and turn to him. “Please don’t stop to talk. I need out of here.”
His hands settle on my waist. “They’re on your side, just like I am.”
“I’m married.”
“Stop fucking saying that. It only makes me want to fly to Denver and kill him now.”
“You don’t listen.” I turn and head down the stairs only to find Kara, Julie, and a very pregnant Lauren now standing at the bottom.
I inhale and let it out, starting down the steps, not sure what to expect. When I reach the lower level, Julie steps forward. “If he lives, you have a divorce attorney.”
“I’m not letting him live,” Asher says.
“Then I’ll help you kill him,” Kara says.
“And I’ll be everyone’s criminal attorney,” Lauren says.
They’re all exaggerating, of course. Or I think they are. “You’re all insane.”
Asher slides his arm around my shoulders. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He doesn’t give me time to respond. He eyes the three musketeers in front of us. “We’re going home.” And with that, he turns us toward the door. Home. We’re going home, as if his place is my place. This idea burns a hundred emotions in my belly.
Pulled Under: a standalone Walker Security novel Page 19