Feet dangling off the end of the dock, Etienne Boudreau lifted the icy cold beer to his mouth. Warm sunshine beat down on his bare shoulders, and a soft breeze ruffled through his hair. Tilting his head back, he felt the sun’s warm rays against his face, and let out a contented sigh.
He’d been slammed with so many back-to-back cases lately, and he’d finally caught a break. A nice long four-day weekend with nothing to do but laze about in the sunshine, toss a line off the end of the dock, and let his body recuperate from the crazy pace he’d been keeping since early December.
Leaning back, he rested his elbows against the wooden planks, watching the clouds drift by, and shook his head at the realization, shocking as it seemed, that he was bored. What happened to the days he could sit back and relax, doing nothing but lounging around in shorts and a tank and have no worries, no obligations? He missed it.
Now he deliberately kept his life racing ninety miles an hour, working hard and playing even harder. Because when he was busy, he didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to block out the memories of the ugliness, the atrocities he’d seen. Didn’t have to dwell on the friends he’d lost. And didn’t have to think about the one woman he wanted—and couldn’t have.
Stephanie Barnes worked for Carpenter Security. That fact alone put her strictly off limits. He made it a point never to mess around with anybody he worked with. Things could get way too complicated. Add in the fact Samuel threatened bodily harm to anybody who so much as touched Stephanie or he’d rip their arms off and beat them with the bloody stumps—well, he’d gotten the message.
Didn’t mean he stopped thinking about her though. She’d already been working for the company when he’d come back from his last tour and joined Carpenter Security Services. The first time he saw her, she’d been multitasking with the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear dealing with a client, while also making copies, and signing for a delivery from a courier. He’d come in with his brother, Ranger, to finalize the paperwork so he could start working at C.S.S. full time. When he’d spotted the pretty dynamo, he been struck by her energy and her cheerful smile. The blonde hair and blue eyes didn’t hurt, either.
But, once the edict came down from the boss man about Stephanie being off limits, Etienne kept his distance, despite the attraction. But that didn’t mean he could stop the fantasies about her. Dirty, nasty, curl-your-toes fantasies that played out in living color nearly every night and left him hurting and needy.
“Not gonna happen, my man,” he mumbled.
Taking another long pull of his beer, he stared at the lake water inches from his feet. The dock extended several yards from the shoreline, behind his daddy’s house, where his brothers tied off their boats. Nothing fancy, just small rowboats and pirogues they used to get back and forth to their cabins in the swamp.
The water beneath his toes was crystal clear, and he watched as fish darted past, inches below his bare feet.
When the text alert on his phone pinged, he was tempted to ignore it. This was his first day off, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anybody’s drama. Hell, he was still getting his strength back from that whole being-slipped-an-unknown-drug mess a couple of months ago. Whatever drug Stella Alexander doped him with had packed a wallop. He’d never been so sick, and he’d ended up unconscious and in the hospital. All because the frigid bitch wanted to kill her husband, and he’d been lucky enough to pull guard duty at the nursing home where her husband lay in a coma. He grimaced, thinking about the other woman. She’d caused a lot of damage before being hauled off to jail, and the team was still picking up the pieces.
But somehow, in his gut, he knew this text message was one he shouldn’t ignore. Correction—couldn’t ignore. That indefinable sixth sense all the Boudreau men seemed to have hammered at the back of his skull, telling him something big was coming, and he was about to find himself neck deep in alligators.
With a resigned sigh, he set the beer bottle down on the wooden dock and reached for his phone. Ranger’s name showed in the sender’s field. His brother wouldn’t contact him on his day off, not without a good reason. Hell, he’d been one of the men pushing him to take time off. Obviously, something big was going down, vital enough Ranger thought he should be updated.
Tapping his finger on Ranger’s name, his breath froze at the message.
911.
Code for an emergency. He hated it when he was right. Looked like recreation time had ended.
He typed the question—who—and hit send. Within seconds, he had an answer.
Stephanie.
Springing to his feet, he raced up the dock, bypassing the house completely. Tires squealed as he stomped the accelerator, speeding away from Gator’s house. One word echoed over and over in his head.
Stephanie.
Anna attempted making herself as inconspicuous as possible because she didn’t want to be sent upstairs. She wasn’t officially a part of the working team, but Stephanie was one of her best friends, and she’d be damned if they’d keep her out of getting her back safe. It was a battle to keep her hands from shaking, but at least there was one glimmer of hope. Either the bad guys hadn’t found her yet, or they’d left Stephanie’s cell phone behind, because it was still live and in the same locale the last time Carlisle had pinged it.
“Ranger, hasn’t one of the guys on Brandon McKinney’s SEAL team dealt with a jungle hostage rescue?” Samuel Carpenter asked the question, while other teammates flowed in and out of the space, gathering intel and making plans.
Ranger stood inside the second floor conference room, having responded to the team’s S.O.S. They’d moved the entire operation upstairs right after Stephanie’s call cut off. Carlisle and Nate continued monitoring her cell signal, pinging her phone’s location, and watching for any movement.
“The whole SEAL team’s dealt with multiple hostage rescues. It’s kind of what they do. But Charlie, A.K.A. Book, is married to the woman he rescued.” Ranger gave her arm a squeeze, and Anna realized she wasn’t quite as invisible as she’d hoped.
“Frankie,” she interjected softly. “They really had a rough time. Got separated from the rest of the SEAL team. Ended up racing through the jungle, until they were rescued. Thank God, they got out safe and alive.”
“I’ve already got a call in to Brandon, and I’m waiting to hear back. I’m praying they aren’t out on assignment because we could really use somebody with expertise in this kind of situation. It’s a little outside my normal realm of experience.” Carpenter paced in front of the whiteboard, where they’d begun documenting the timeline since Stephanie’s call.
“Savannah’s right. Call Frankie.” Everyone’s attention swung toward Carlisle at his agreement. He shrugged. “She has a good head on her shoulders, and she survived something similar.” When his eyes met hers, Anna could read the anguish he couldn’t quite hide. Knew he didn’t want her reliving any part of her own kidnapping. “Unless you think it would hurt her to talk about it, in which case we won’t.”
Anna shook her head. “Call her. She helped me a lot when I was going through that whole nightmare with Stavros Aristides. If she can’t answer your questions, she might know how you can get in touch with her husband.”
Carpenter studied Anna’s face for a long moment before nodding. “Give me her number.”
Dialing, he hit the speaker button before laying his phone on the conference table. It rang three times, and Anna closed her eyes, praying it wouldn’t go to voicemail. Franke picked up on the fourth ring.
“Frankie? It’s Samuel Carpenter with Carpenter Security. We’ve got a bit of a situation here, and I wondered if you could tell me now to contact your husband.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carpenter, book and his team went wheels up a couple of days ago. I’m not sure how long he’ll be out of touch, or when they’ll be back.”
Anna leaned in closer to the phone. “Frankie, it’s Anna. I hate to ask, but we could use some help. One of our coworkers is in an apparent hostage situation, and—”
“Oh, no! Whatever I can do. Damn, I wish Book was here. Or Brandon.”
Samuel motioned for Anna to keep talking, since Frankie seemed to be responding openly with her. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened, but she—”
“She? Anybody I know?”
Anna bit back a grimace. It was going to be a very long conversation if Frankie didn’t stop interrupting her every other sentence.
“Stephanie Barnes. She works for Carpenter Security.”
“Do you know where she was taken from? Was it stateside or foreign?”
“Costa Rica.” Carpenter answered before Anna could. “There are several hostages, including Stephanie. I wanted to coordinate with the Brandon McKinney’s SEAL team, since I know they’re one of the best, but if they’re unavailable, I’ll have to have to make other arrangements. We don’t have time to wait.”
“I understand, really, but…” There was a long pause, before Frankie added, “I might know somebody who can help. Let me make a call and I’ll get back to you.”
“Anything you can do to help is appreciated, Frankie. Thank you.”
“If I hear from Book or any of the team, I’ll have them get in touch.”
With that, she hung up. Anna knew Frankie probably felt the same gnawing in the pit of her stomach, the swift flash of bile in the back of her throat. An overwhelming urge to flee and hide. Survival instincts kicked in at the slightest hint of danger nowadays, and Frankie had been one of the people who’d helped teach her coping mechanisms and techniques to get past the panic that occasionally threatened to consume her. It had gotten better since she’d been with Stefan. But Frankie had warned her that it never went away entirely.
“Gunner, you and Nate coordinate travel details with Carlisle. He’ll get the paperwork cleared for you to be in Costa Rica. Ranger…”
Before he finished speaking, Etienne barreled into the room and skidded to a halt. “Where the hell is she?” His words held a demand for answers. Anna involuntarily took a step back, reacting to the barely-controlled rage pouring from him.
“Bro,” Ranger placed a hand on Etienne’s shoulder, and he shook it off, his eyes never leaving Carpenter. “Where is she?”
Carpenter let out a weary sigh. “As far as we know, she’s still in Costa Rica. The villa’s been overrun with armed guerillas. Fortunately, she was on the phone with Anna when the incursion happened, otherwise, we might not have found out until much later.”
Etienne’s head turned toward Anna. “She was okay when you talked to her?”
She nodded. “Yes, we were talking, and she heard shouting in Spanish, and then shots. After that, she stopped talking, though the call is still connected.” She pointed toward the phone. “I don’t know if she dropped it, or…”
“How long ago?”
“Less than two hours,” Carpenter answered. “We’re coordinating a team to—”
“I’m going.”
“No, you’re not.”
Etienne got right up in Carpenter’s face, and Anna held her breath, hoping she wasn’t about to see World War III start in the middle of the conference room. The determination written on Etienne’s face made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to back down.
“You’ve got two choices. I’ve got my bug-out bag and I’m heading to the airport. You can either authorize me to work the case and I head to Costa Rica, or I quit and head to Costa Rica. Choose. But know this, I will be going to find Stephanie and bring her home safe.”
It was fascinating, Anna mused, watching the two men square off. Samuel Carpenter, so controlled, dynamic, and cool under pressure, no matter the situation. Versus Etienne Boudreau, the Ragin’ Cajun, with an ice-cold fury emanating from him. She bit her lip, wondering who’d back down first.
Before either man made the first move, Carpenter’s phone rang. He hit the speaker button. “Frankie? What have you got?”
“I spoke with Book’s C.O., Commander Jameson Weeks. I briefed him on what you told me. Everything I’m about to tell you is off the record, understand?”
“Got it.”
“There’s a former Navy SEAL who’s living in Costa Rica. I personally don’t know him, but Commander Weeks vouches for him. Says he’s a good man, somebody who’ll know the locals and can coordinate with your team, lead them through the terrain. He moved to Costa Rica when he left the Navy, but he still keeps in touch with some of his former teammates. His name is Dylan Roberts. I’ll e-mail his contact information and everything else Commander Weeks gave me.”
“Thank you, Frankie. I’ll get in touch with him ASAP.” Carpenter ran a hand across his brow, and Anna noted the lines of strain. He and Stephanie were close, their relationship more like brother and sister than employer and employee. There was a past there, between the two, though Stephanie had never once mentioned anything, and Anna hadn’t pushed.
“Keep me posted. When the guys get back, I’ll have them get in touch.”
“Thanks again, Frankie.”
When he disconnected the call, Carpenter stared at Etienne, and shook his head. “My telling you she was off limits didn’t do a damned thing, did it?”
“I listened. Kept my distance. Respected your wishes.” He gave a cynical laugh. “Didn’t seem to matter to my heart.”
Anna tentatively touched his bare arm, noting for the first time he was dressed casually, in shorts and a white tank, his feet shoved into a pair of ratty-looking sneakers. His skin still held some of the warmth from the sun. “Bring her home, Etienne.”
His hand gently cupped her cheek. “I will, little sister.”
She jumped when Carpenter slapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s find out about this Dylan Roberts character. Carlisle, start digging. Gunner, call and get the jet fueled. Nate, start making calls, gather whatever intel you can on who’s pulling the strings on this little op down there. Ranger,” he paused, eyeing the tall Cajun. “Go give your baby girl a kiss. Then help your knuckleheaded brother, make sure he has everything he needs for Costa Rica. I have to cancel my appointment, so I can make the flight.”
“Honey, you can’t.” Andrea walked to Samuel’s side and put her hand on his forearm. “You’ve had this meeting scheduled with the head of the NSA for weeks. It’s already been rescheduled twice.”
“He’ll understand.” When he tried to shrug Andrea’s hand off, she gripped tighter, and Anna smiled at her friend’s action.
“And Stephanie will understand you’re coordinating an entire rescue operation to go and get her. Let Etienne go.” When he started to interrupt, she put a finger against his lips. “You know how important this meeting is. You were asked by the President to work with the NSA. These men,” Andrea waved a hand around the room, indicating each man on the elite C.S.S. team, “will move heaven and earth to rescue Stephanie. And I promise, the minute the meeting is finished, I’ll have us scheduled on the next flight out.”
“I can’t let anything happen to her.”
Andrea patted his chest gently. “That’s why you’re going to send Etienne. He will protect her with his life.”
Carpenter gave a frustrated sigh before turning to face Etienne. Stared at him for so long, Anna wondered if he’d ever speak.
“Boss, I have to do this.” It was probably the closest she’d ever heard Etienne come to begging. He might joke and kid, because that was part of his nature, but he was one of the strongest souls she’d ever met and didn’t back down—not for anything.
“Fine, but go change first. You’re not flying to Costa Rica looking like some wannabe surfer from Point Break.”
“What about this Dylan Roberts’ guy?” Etienne asked, moving toward the door.
“You’ll know everything, right down to the color of his underwear or lack thereof, by the time the plane’s wheels leave the tarmac.”
“Good.” Etienne paused, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m not coming home without her.”
Anna watched the byplay between the two men. It always fascinated her, the connection each one of the Boudreau brothers had with Samuel Carpenter. They might not be related by blood, but they had a bond that went straight to the soul. She doubted there was anything they wouldn’t do for each other.
“I’m counting on it.”