As Kiera re-entered the living room, which was lit only by a single muted lamp, she took in the few pieces of warm, solid furniture with dark colors. The cabin had traditional Appalachian construction with pale chinking between the square wood beams on the outer walls. A small wooden desk in the corner of the room held several laptops with black and white images playing on four quarters of each screen. No dust on the shelves. No pictures.
No doilies, lace, or a vase of flowers. Not a single feminine touch in this home.
A cozy cabin like this shouldn’t feel like a sterile collection of rooms. Even the sound of her footsteps echoed, the sound seeking substance to bounce off of and finding … nothing.
Jake sat motionless on the brown leather couch, staring into space. He leaned forward, corded forearms resting on his knees, fingers laced in a white-knuckled grip. The holstered guns were still strapped across his chest and on his thigh, like the equipment was part of him. In profile, his features could have been chiseled from granite. While he didn’t look at her, she had no doubt he tracked her every movement, able to react in a split second. Her skin twitched.
Silence settled around her, making the thud of her heart sound far too loud in her ears. Time to talk.
She eased into the recliner with a creak of leather and a groan as the injury on her back protested, but she kept her feet on the floor. Reaching for the lever to put her legs up was too much work right about now. Besides, if she reclined, she would be asleep in a few seconds. She and Jake had to come up with a plan for her to deliver the information. Then she could get out of his life as quickly as she’d re-entered it.
As she sat, a hint of his aftershave and that faint hickory scent rose from the chair, tormenting her.
The spicy aroma from a mug of steaming tea next to the chair tempted her. Little Bit kicked. The baby must like tea. Would it be too much to ask for this kid to show their appreciation in a way that didn’t involve pummeling her uterus?
Next to the tea was a PB&J sandwich, cut into precisely equal triangles. And another glass of water. Of course.
Also on the end table rested a pair of clean wool socks, neatly folded. Too large for her feet. Something in her chest twisted again.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, trying to swallow past a hard lump in her throat.
Silence.
When she tried to bring her leg up, she only managed to do so on her good side.
In a ghost of movement, Jake knelt in front of her and tugged the wool sock over her other foot. His feather-light touch was at odds with the tight cords of muscles in his arms. The two of them created a weird image of raggedy Cinderella and muscle-bound Prince Charming. He returned to the couch, his movements whisper-quiet. She still felt the residual warmth of his fingers on her ankle. Wanted that touch elsewhere.
He pressed his mouth into a grim line.
Her vision blurred until she blinked a few times to clear it.
Finally, his gunmetal-gray eyes focused on her. “Do you need something else to eat? You should eat. Because of…” His Adam’s apple bobbed and he stared somewhere beyond her right shoulder.
Holding up a corner of the sandwich, she smiled. “This is perfect. Thank you.” She took a bite, despite the nervy sensation crawling over her skin.
“More water?”
“I’m good.”
He stared at her.
Fine. She took a sip, only so he wouldn’t witness her desiccating in front of him.
“So.” Like a pebble tossed into a calm pond, his low voice disturbed the space between them.
“God, where to start?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“How about explain why you’re here?” He glanced at her and then toward the computers. “How did you even find this place?”
“You haven’t been in touch with Mateo for how long? I thought you two were almost as close friends as you and Brady were.”
“Things were complicated. I last saw Mateo at Brady’s funeral.” The tone, flat, lifeless. The time frame, precise. “Remember?”
“Of course.” And how. Her thighs pressed together. “How did I find your house? After I ran from the people who shot at me, I followed Mateo’s hidden directions.”
“Wait. Someone shot at you? You said metal exploded and shrapnel hit you.” His gaze scanned her, like he was searching for more injuries.
“It was kind of both things happening.”
“What?” Every muscle went tight, like he could levitate off the couch.
“Not at the same time.” She shifted in the seat. “So, you’ve heard of the Fallen Comrades charity?”
His spine ramrodded. When he pinned her with a glare, it felt like he was drilling laser beams straight through her body. “Fallen Comrades? The company run by that fake-disabled vet, Beau Lequire?” Like lashes of a whip, he bit out every word. “Why, yes. I’m extremely familiar with that organization. As well as that particular asshole. What does the organization have to do with any of this?” He slashed his hand in her general direction. “Why the fuck would someone shoot at you?”
“Jealous you didn’t get dibs?”
Hands went up in a hurry. “Hey, whoa, uncalled for. You and I broke up fair and square years ago.”
“Fine.”
He reared back. “Shit. When you say ‘fine,’ it’s never ‘fine.’ It’s always the opposite. Usually my fault.”
“Just like this situation is not ‘fine.’ But not your fault.” She sighed. “Bear with me. It will all make sense.”
“Fine.”
She snorted.
“Hold on. Let me double-check the system.” He uncoiled off the couch, strode to the computers, and tapped.
Kiera finished off the triangle of PB&J and washed it down with the water and tea. Her hunger pangs subsided, and she sighed. “Is my car okay out there?”
He glanced back at her with a smile so grim that the hairs on her arms rose. “Of course. I swept it while you were in the bathroom. No bugs. No identification at all. Not even a VIN or insurance information. Mateo put security and defensive tech in it that I can’t let anyone else get hold of.”
“Really? Anything else?”
“Couple of holes in the back window and bumper I’m not happy about.”
“Makes two of us.”
He paced the floor slowly, a lion on a stalk. “You should get some shut-eye. It’s been a long day.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to tell you what happened.” And yes, for the record, she would love to catch forty winks right now.
“Then you’ll sleep?”
“I … guess so.”
“Good.” A curt nod. “Go on.”
Despite his angry tone, she still loved his baritone voice. Every word slid in a soft southern accent when he spoke, and his voice riled her nerves in the best possible way, even now. Even after everything. Damn him.
“So. About Brady.” She fought to keep her tone neutral.
Jake and her brother had been best friends in high school. When they had enlisted in the Army after a few years of college, she had made only one request of Jake: keep Brady safe.
It took all of her self-control not to blame Jake for Brady’s injuries in Afghanistan. What happened to her headstrong brother had been out of anyone’s control. By all accounts, he should have died in the explosion. Over time, she had come to realize no one could have prevented everything, while Brady served or since then.
But Kiera could damn well get revenge for some of it.
He turned. “Okay. About Brady.” He scratched the light-brown stubble on his rigid jaw, the sound harsh and electric.
“You know how he wasn’t … okay? Because of the traumatic brain injury and all?”
His eyes became two flecks of cold steel. “Yeah. I was there when the accident occurred.”
She flinched. “Once he was discharged, Brady got tapped to be the ‘poster boy’ for Fallen Comrades. He did commercials and gave talks about how great Fallen Comrades was and how the organization had helped him recover from his injuries.”
“I’d heard about him working with the company, but I wasn’t paying much attention to … the outside world … at that time.” He pulled down a blind and peered out the front window. “Did they help him?”
“No.” She sucked in a breath. “Well, let me back up. They paid him for the commercials and gave him a salary as spokesman, so it was something. He was proud to have a job again. Brady kept hoping Fallen Comrades would help more with rehab services for veterans who live far from their local VA facilities. Fallen Comrades were also supposed to retrofit houses for soldiers who had been injured. Set soldiers up with service animals. Provide additional mental health services.”
“And?”
“A little over a year ago, Brady uncovered what was really going on.” When she laughed, her voice came out hollow. “Well, some of it. He had only discovered the tip of the iceberg. He could have blown the lid off the entire company, even with the small amount he knew.”
“Why didn’t I hear about this?” His shoulders went rigid, and one hand curled into a fist that he pressed to the edge of the window sash.
“It wasn’t public knowledge. Yet.” She squinted with one eye at the pine ceiling beams. “I believe you had, um, been out of contact then.” She waved a hand. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Brady had an NDA placed on him by Fallen Comrades, complete with threatening boilerplate language. All the pressure didn’t help his PTSD and brain injury one bit.”
“So, he was a whistleblower? Happens all the time. Legal paperwork wouldn’t stop Brady from doing what was right.”
“It stopped him when the threats escalated into unfortunate accidents.”
“What.” No inflection.
She rubbed her belly until she caught Jake staring. Deliberately shifting her hand to her knee, she continued. “When Mateo visited us in June, Brady told us about what was going on at Fallen Comrades. Shortly after, Brady died in suspicious circumstances. The police tried to chalk it up to ‘random violence,’ but I knew better.” Her breath caught. “Mateo offered to help get to the bottom of Brady’s death and go after Fallen Comrades. Mentioned something about how he had some resources from past work with a group of ex-military guys.”
“He told you about the team?” One blunt fingertip ran the edge of the sash. Up and down. Like an absentminded motion, only Jake never fidgeted.
“What team?”
He froze and stepped forward. “Wait. You went undercover with him and he didn’t inform you about the team?” He tapped his chin. “Actually, it makes sense. That would be need-to-know.”
“What didn’t I need to know?”
“Never mind.” He huffed out a big breath. “You really should rest. We’ll get a plan for the morning.”
“No. Let me go over everything, then you can decide if you even want me to stay here.”
“What?”
“I’m a liability, Jake. You might be in danger because of me.”
He snorted. After snagging her empty glass, he stomped over to the kitchen. He popped a frozen dinner in the microwave. A few minutes later, he brought the noodles and more liquid back over. “Eat. Please. Then finish the story. Then you’re staying here and resting. That’s an order.”
She snapped, “I’m not in the military. You can’t order me around.” Taking a bite of steaming pasta, she sighed as the tomato sauce and cheese met in harmony in her mouth.
“I never could make you do anything.”
Nearly snorting a noodle, she managed to mumble, “Almost.”
Was that a wickedly sexy smile on his face?
She set the food down after a few more bites. “Our mission was undercover. Kind of,” she added in a hurry. “We concentrated on getting useful information out of Beau and from Fallen Comrades. I trusted Mateo because he’s a good friend. We were both avenging Brady. I was focused on getting justice for Brady.” Shaking her head, she creased the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. “Mateo always said the less I knew, the less of a liability I’d be if…”
Jake rolled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white. “If your cover got blown. If you ended up in a bad position. Shit.” He blew out a breath. “What the hell was he thinking, putting you in danger? Especially with the—you know,” He flapped a hand in her general direction.
“One, we never thought this project would be this dangerous, or I wouldn’t have done it. Two, he knew I needed to avenge Brady’s death. Even if Mateo had known there was danger involved, I still would have tried for Brady.”
“I bet you would have.” He circled back to the computer screens for a few seconds before straightening up and pacing again.
“Brady had two solid friends who would give the shirts off their backs for him: you and Mateo.”
“No question.” He stopped pacing, his voice only a decibel higher than a whisper.
“If you had come up with a plan to avenge Brady, I would probably have gone along with it for the same reason: I trusted you. Like I trusted Mateo.”
“Yeah, but there are better ways. Hell, send in the whole team.”
Shaking her head, she said, “What we were doing had nothing to do with any team. We weren’t official anything. Our project was never meant to attract attention. Besides, according to Mateo, the team was still rebuilding after…”
“After I went off the deep end and then refused to join them when they reformed here stateside?”
“He didn’t share any details.”
All she knew was that Jake and his wife had divorced. Kiera could imagine him picking fights at bars, throwing himself into workouts—anything to take his mind off of the pain.
A buzzer sounded, making her jump.
“Clothes are done.”
“That’s fast.”
“I have really good tech.” He walked midway down the hall, returned, and set the toasty garments in her lap. “Here.” Like he couldn’t stand for her to continue wearing his clothes.
“Okay.” Wincing at her protesting muscles, she walked to the bathroom once more and quickly changed into her outfit, transferring the thumb drive and the folded envelope back into the zippered jacket pocket. The twin holes on the side of the tunic and jacket didn’t look too bad. A little breezy, maybe. Returning to the living room, she folded the Jake-scented shirt and sweatpants and laid them on the end table, then leaned against the back of the recliner, stretching sore muscles. Her empty noodle dish and empty cup of tea were gone. The water glass? Full again.
He barely spared her a glance as he stood next to the bookshelf with legs shoulder-width apart, arms folded over the holster straps that strained to contain his chest muscles. “About that bad time back then, a few years ago, when the team was forming up stateside. Look, I was in a rough place. Mentally. I kind of … broke down.”
“Oh.”
Raking his hand through his dark-blond hair, he grimaced. “Oh is right.” He thumped his chest. “But no excuses. I didn’t help Brady when he needed it the most. Didn’t keep my promises. Couldn’t help my—anyway. Ancient history.” He paced back and forth, covering the length of the living room with leonine efficiency.
“Is that why you’re so tense?”
“My training made me, um, extra vigilant.” He rolled his shoulders. “Then you came into the cabin.” His gaze slid away. “I’m sorry. If I’d known it was you, I would never have…”
“I get it. It’s not abnormal behavior to be defensive if someone trespasses.”
“Yeah. Anyway. I —I’m sorry. Go on with the story. It’s going from bad to worse.”
She blew out a deep breath. “So, after Brady was killed—” Her voice cracked. “We went to the authorities. Random violence, they said. No witnesses. No clues.” Her eyes burned.
Damn Jake for the way he watched her, with a furrow forming between his thick eyebrows, as if he cared. As if he wanted to resurrect Brady—or move heaven and earth if she asked him to do so. The time for stark emotion was far in the rearview mirror. If he kept up the intense caring act, she’d start crying, which wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Stalling, she took a sip of water.
A creak and a bang sounded outside the cabin.
She slammed the glass down on the table. Hard.