The scene at dinnertime made Kiera laugh out loud.
It was like ‘Kiera and the Seven Dwarves,’ except the dwarves were hulking giants. Worn out from her afternoon of yet another brain download, courtesy of Stumpy and his darned computer, she sighed and stretched her legs out on the couch cushions while activity swirled around her.
Not exactly swirled. The way these guys moved, they’d hang out at Point A. Then they would suddenly appear at Point B. Every action in between was performed with smooth, noiseless efficiency.
When Rodeo arrived after his afternoon patrol, she asked about the stealthy movements. He dropped into an oversized leather recliner across from her. His body language projected casual ease, but his gaze tracked every movement in the room. Thumbing the brim of his hat up, he said, “Green Berets are known as the Silent Professionals. We’re stealthy to begin with. But now, thanks to the virus, we’re even more dangerous. Soundless, too.”
She jumped at a loud crash in the kitchen.
“My bad!” Gonzo yelped as he waved his hand in the air and galloped in place until he thrust his hand under the cold water tap.
“Soundless. Check.” She grinned.
Rodeo pulled a face and drew out the yo-yo, turning it over and over in a palm. “Uh, except for mealtime. Iron Chef over there is the current gourmand, and he only has the title because expertise is relative around here. Now Pele. He’s the true culinary expert. Amazing skills.” Rodeo patted his flat belly. “But he’s out on assignment watching your sister, Reagan.” He leaned forward and whispered behind a hand. “If it was up to my cooking abilities, we’d eat frank and beans out of the can.” He leaned back, propping an ankle on the opposite knee. “So, the best of the worst is Gonzo. Oh, he always makes a ruckus in the kitchen.” He called over his shoulder. “It’s so we will notice and appreciate his hard work, right, George Alonzo?”
Gonzo spouted a line of Spanish, punctuated by a flap of his unburned hand.
“What did he say?” she asked.
Rodeo waved his fingers in the general direction of the kitchen. “He thanks us for the support and kind words and promises to follow military protocol in his food preparations.”
Another spurt of Spanish emanated from the kitchen.
The cowboy pressed both palms against the purple toy. “More or less.”
She touched her mouth, holding back a laugh. “Um, you didn’t happen to be one of those little brothers who constantly irritated their older siblings?”
He lifted his big hands in a gesture of innocence negated by the impish glint in his dark eyes.
“Exactly. Hey, I am a younger sister. I know how things work. A little poke here, a little poke there. Older brother or sister explodes. No idea why. Hey, I’m innocent.” A warm blanket-like sense of family love was quickly swept away by the sharp pinch of guilt for the risk she’d created for her family.
Rodeo opened his mouth to comment.
“And, that’s enough for tonight, Casanova.” Jake inserted himself into her field of vision. He had on his ever-present tight t-shirt and shoulder holster.
Her heart skidded as she inhaled his hickory and outdoorsy scent. He must have come in from a patrol shift as well.
Jake pointed at Rodeo. “Stumpy needs help laying out wire.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Then keep an eye on Gonzo before he blows up the stove with his terrifying ‘salute to Asian cuisine’ he’s fixing.” He cringed as the chef brandished a wooden spoon while mumbling to himself. A puff of steam burst from a clattering lid.
Rodeo’s eyes narrowed to slits as he studied Jake. “Roger.” The cowboy pushed up, uncoiling in a fluid movement. Then, in a blink, he was in the kitchen.
Jake sat on the other end of the couch and let out a groan as he sank into the cushions. Similar to Rodeo, though, Jake visually swept the room, over and over. She drew her feet back, but he patted his thighs. “It’s okay, you can stretch out.”
He wrapped his hands around each ankle and gently tugged her legs onto his lap. Several conflicting thoughts crashed into each other. One, she could get used to the feel of his palms on her lower leg. Two, they’d done this exact activity years before, sitting together on a couch, enjoying each other’s company. A painful bubble formed in her chest.
At the end of the day, she was still an obligation for Jake to fulfill.
Unfortunately, Kiera The Obligation noticed too acutely that her calves were heating up thanks to the toasty warmth of his hard thighs. As a matter of fact, her legs rested inches away from … places she had no business thinking about.
She knew where things stood. She was a mission for Jake—a mechanism for him to atone for Brady’s fate, a do-over of his childhood, and a way for him to complete Mateo’s mission. With a dash of paternal duty thrown into the mix.
With all that baggage in mind, she vowed not to get sucked into the emotions stirred up from her proximity to Jake. Vowed. She mentally pushed the ‘firm resolution’ button. For good. Mentally brushed off her hands.
“How did the afternoon go?” he asked, rolling his massive shoulders and turning his head toward her. The weight of his steel gaze knocked the breath out of her. The resolution button hadn’t been enough. Come on.
By God, she’d keep things friendly and professional. “It went well. Slow going, but we’ll eventually have a complete database of information. What I recall plus the data on the thumb drive should be more than enough to bury Beau. The details about the connection with Senator Lequire and Bratva are slower going, but we’ll get it fleshed out as well.”
A muscle jumped on his jaw. “I don’t like that you’re tangled up in this mess.”
“What’s done is done.”
“I’ll say.” He stared at her until she began to sweat. A blink. He muttered, “It’s too dangerous, you having this knowledge. Too many people will want your silence. The reporter died because of this information.”
A cold shiver got her attention. “I can’t un-ring that bell. At least if Morpheus Squad has the data, then I’m less of a liability, right? Multiple targets. They can’t silence all of us.”
She froze.
Oh, God.
“I don’t like that you’re involved.” He patted her leg. “I want you and the baby safe. My baby,” he whispered.
Her resolution, and a piece of her heart, melted. “Jake.”
He blinked and pressed the slash of his mouth into a hard line. “New topic.”
“But—”
His eyes took on the color of a thunderstorm. “Move on.”
She rubbed her arms. Later, always later.
The tight lines around his mouth softened. “Stumpy’s not working you too hard, is he?”
“No.” She sighed. “He makes me take breaks and drink lots of water. Thinks it’s better for the baby.”
“Good.” His lost, empty expression gutted her.
What she’d give to see the lighter, laughing Jake again.
She shoved the hair behind her ears and pretended to pay attention to the cooking show happening in the kitchen.
Hunt entered the building, and the atmosphere became charged, like the men unconsciously homed in on him.
With a businesslike nod to everyone, he strode over to Stumpy, who sat at the desk, surrounded by computer consoles. Murmurs from the two men filtered over to her. After a few minutes, Hunt walked over to Kiera. Even from a seated position, Jake sat up straight as he tightened the grip on her ankle.
“How are my sisters and dad?” she asked the CO.
One curt nod. “Safe. The men are in place and have begun surveillance on your family members. They will have fully infiltrated their targets’ lives by Tuesday.”
“Infiltrated?”
His calm smile? Scary. “It’s easier if we hide in plain sight. Each team member will get close to their target by any means necessary.”
“Target?”
“Your family member.”
“How, exactly?”
Hunt winked. Really? A wink?
“For example,” he said “an assistant postmaster position has been available for some time in your dad’s office. Well, what do you know, turns out Rivera was the best qualified applicant for this job. Funny how stuff works out. His application must have gotten stuck in the system for a while until it happened to pop into your dad’s email inbox today. Coincidence. Right, Stumpy?”
Without turning around, Stumpy lifted a hand and gave a thumbs-up, then returned to tapping away on the keyboard.
“How—?” Kiera sputtered.
Jake smiled.
“Amazing how a computer genius can infiltrate even USPS jobs website. Stumpy made it look like Rivera’s application had gone through all the preliminary review and background checks with the regional office.” With a calculating glint in his eye, Hunt continued. “Of course, Rivera has an airtight but completely bogus identity, complete with a stellar work history and superb references from previous supervisors.” Hunt tapped his cell phone attached to his belt. “Since they were desperate for an assistant postmaster, your dad did the on-site interview today and offered Rivera the job. No surprise, since he and Rivera got along like old friends.”
“Old friends?”
Even Jake sat forward, hand remaining on her ankle.
“But of course.” His smile didn’t make her feel warm or comfortable. “It’s how we infiltrate. Each team member receives a file on their target—each of your family members—and adjusts their approach to fit the target’s personality accordingly.”
Her gut clenched. “Do I want to know how you got all this information?”
Hunt barked out a laugh. “No, you do not.”
“So, someone’s working up at the environmental education camp in the mountains?”
He nodded. “Pele. Here’s his chance to get away from it all.”
“You know my sister Reagan has survival skills, right? She could probably take care of herself and Pele.”
A corner of Jake’s mouth rose. “He’ll be overqualified window dressing, then.”
She thought for a moment, then squinted at Hunt. “Who gets to attend art school?”
Jake snickered, a sound she didn’t hear nearly enough. “With Britt?” Jake’s thumb rubbed her skin.
“Yeah. Good luck whoever keeps track of her.”
“Ah, yes,” Hunt said. “Red. It’s almost impossible to wear him out.”
Catching Jake’s eye, she exchanged a grin. “Red hasn’t met my baby sister.”
Hunt crossed his big arms. “It’s okay. Red can handle any hostile environment.”
“Like art school? With a budding fashionista who is part Energizer bunny?”
“Exactly.”
She relaxed into the cushion and adjusted her legs, so comfortable with Jake’s hand still on her ankle, yet careful not to bump the holstered gun on the side of his chest. “I’d love to see it.”
The kitchen sounds, conversation, and laughter swirled around her, almost like she sat in a normal living room with normal people whose lives weren’t in perpetual danger.
Almost.