Declan Elliot motored down Interstate Sixty-Nine with the radio cranked to high. He was headed to COBRA Securities headquarters in southern Indiana to undergo a grueling battery of tests meant to gauge his physical fitness and shooting accuracy, the last steps before he officially became an agent for the famed company.
He’d already interviewed with the two bosses, Luke Colton and Logan Bradley, over Skype and he liked them both instantly. Having the glowing endorsement of current agents Noah and Ethan Addison bolstered his credibility, as did his stellar military background.
A month ago, he wouldn’t have doubted his ability to ace all the tests, including the firearms proficiency. He’d earned expert marksmanship qualification badges multiple times in both service rifle and service pistol, and proudly displayed a clasp between the brooch and the expert pendant on his dress and service uniform. His physical fitness was at peak level as well.
That was before he’d been shot in the hip and had his head mistaken for a baseball and bashed with a bat, resulting in a coma. Three weeks later, his headache was practically gone and though his hip was tender where the bullet passed through, he was raring to go. He’d always been a fast healer and he felt ready to tackle whatever obstacles were thrown in his path. He’d followed the doctor’s advice—mostly—and clocked his time with the physical therapist. He’d added his own bevy of rehabilitative exercises to return to fighting form and he hit the shooting range several times. At first, it’d been hard to focus on the paper targets with an annoying case of double vision, but the fuzziness had cleared, and he was back to clustering his hits in the head and heart.
At one time, Declan thought he’d be a lifer in the military, leaving only when they forced him to retire. But that was before a mission that went sideways, killing two of his best friends. Though it hadn’t been his fault Jay and Manny died, he felt guilty that he was alive while they were transported back home in plastic body bags. They’d all known the score when they signed on. There were no guarantees in life or in war. But the thought of continuing on for several years without them was unappealing, as was the possibility that other teammates—or himself—might meet the same fate.
A few short weeks ago, he’d been at loose ends after returning home to Chicago with no clear career objective. He thought about signing up for the police academy or maybe trying his luck with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but fate had other ideas. He’d been out running while contemplating what path he wanted to take—figuratively, not literally—when out of the corner of his eye, he caught the reflection of the sun off the barrel of a rifle. He had a split second to locate the intended target and tackle him to the ground. The diving takedown set up a chain of events leading him to a new opportunity that seemed too good to believe.
Before he packed for the trip, he’d talked to Noah Addison, the man whose life he’d saved that fateful afternoon, and he had a pretty good idea what to expect when he arrived. From the horror stories Noah and his younger brother Ethan told him, he was imagining the man who’d test his physical abilities to be a cross between Atilla the Hun and Morey Hicks, his boot camp instructor. Morey had been one sick, evil bastard. But despite what Noah and Ethan told him about Dante Costa, they clearly loved and respected the man. Declan had no doubt he could handle anything Costa dished out. He’d been a Marine. MARSOC. They didn’t let just anyone into the United States Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command.
He glanced over at his copilot; a stuffed brown bear named Yogi. The bear belonged to Jamal West, a young boy he’d met while working with Noah and Ethan on the assignment that brought them to Chicago. They’d been in town to guard Peyton Durant, an Olympic gold medalist many times over, from a twisted stalker. After Declan saved Noah’s life, Noah and his bosses offered him a temporary job assisting on the case. He’d barely gotten his feet wet when disaster struck.
Peyton volunteered at a community center teaching swimming. Jamal was one of her students. His older brother was a hardcore gangbanger trying to force him into the life, but Peyton was determined to not let that happen. They decided to whisk him away and Declan accompanied Jamal to his rundown apartment to pack a bag when Jamarcus West showed up waving a gun. He’d already been shot in a gang turf war—mortally, it turned out—when he lifted the weapon and squeezed the trigger, nailing Declan in the hip—though the bullet had been intended for his brother. He’d covered the boy and taken the slug, and he’d do it again a hundred times over to prevent Jamal from being injured.
Getting shot hurt like hell and he’d barely processed what happened when Jamal’s mother roused herself from a drug-induced stupor, picked up a baseball bat and swung like Joe DiMaggio aiming for the right field bleachers. Unfortunately for him, she used his head for the ball. Lights out. He was done.
To be fair to the woman, she heard the gunshot and saw him pinning Jamal to the ground. She thought he was hurting her son and deep inside a brain ravaged with alcohol and illicit narcotics, her motherly instincts kicked in and she tried to protect him. Too bad she hadn’t tried to shield him from a brother pressuring him into a life of crime, her various addictions or the revolving door to her bedroom. Some of the men she brought home had even tried to molest Jamal. Thank God they hadn’t succeeded.
Declan didn’t remember anything after the incident until waking up days later with a massive headache, his brother Eric by his bed and Yogi tucked against his side. He’d missed all the action. Thankfully, Noah, Ethan and their coworkers were able to keep Peyton safe and neutralize the stalker. Along the way, Peyton and Noah fell in love.
Though Jamal’s home life was horrendous, he was incredibly sweet and kind and Declan bonded with him instantly, probably because of his own horrendous upbringing. Having been shipped from one foster home to another, he’d seen it all by the time he was Jamal’s age. He’d never known his parents, who’d apparently ran away when they were teens and had him. They’d been killed in a car crash soon after he was born and with no family to take him in, he’d been sucked into the system. It wasn’t until a sickly, shy, bookish boy showed up at one of his foster homes that Declan learned what it meant to have family. Eric Bishop’s abusive father killed his mother during an argument and had been sent to prison. Eric had no other family to take him in either, so he landed in the same home. Declan noticed the telltale signs of bullying instantly. Eric wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone and he shrunk away when someone raised a hand or their voice. The man of the house smelled fresh meat and when he started in on Eric, Declan became his fierce protector.
It didn’t matter that they didn’t share the same parents or even the same race. Eric was his brother in every way that mattered. They’d gone through hell together and stuck by each other’s side through thick and thin. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Eric and knew his brother felt the same way. Being away from him while in the military had been hard, but Eric had thrived in college and was now an accountant and part-time financial analyst making big bucks. Declan couldn’t be prouder of him.
If he was offered the job at COBRA Securities—and he fully expected to be—he planned on persuading Eric into moving with him. Though Eric’s office was in a high-rise in downtown Chicago, he could work anywhere. He’d always talked about starting his own company so Declan thought this would be the optimal opportunity to set the wheels in motion. He bet some of his coworkers might be in the market for some financial advice.
As a sign for Bloomington loomed in the distance, excitement raced through his veins. His life was about to change, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future held.