Protective Operation Page 2

  “Wanted to get the hell out of Dodge,” he said, finishing her sentence. “You’re hardly the first person to step foot in this town and immediately want to head for the hills.”

  “That’s not it... It’s just—”

  “I scared you...and you thought your father sent me,” he said.

  “Are you in the habit of always finishing other people’s sentences?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

  “Ha, it’s sad, but you aren’t the first woman to tell me that. My wife loves to constantly remind me.” He rolled down his pant leg. “Now, what was all this nonsense about your father? Clearly, you’re on the run—I’m assuming from him. But where you running to?”

  Regardless of his ability to piece together the puzzle of her life, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him anything. Considering the fact that she had pepper-sprayed and then nearly killed him, he was being remarkably nice.

  He stared at her as she dumped the last bit of water on her face and gasped from the cold.

  “You gonna tell me, or will I have to play twenty questions to get it out of you?” he persisted.

  “Actually,” she began, “I’m here looking for a man. His name is Chad Martin. Do you happen to know where I can find him?”

  The man stood up, then reached behind his back and pulled out a set of handcuffs. Before she could even react, he had her arms behind her back and the cuffs flipped over her wrists. “Lady, I don’t know who the hell you are or what the hell you are doing here, but if you’re looking for Chad, you ain’t gonna find nothing but trouble.”

  Chapter Two

  Chad Martin looked around his cousin’s barn. It was the quintessential guest-ranch barn, designed to charm their visitors. Everything hung from the wall in neat order. On each halter was a shiny little badge with a horse’s name. On the top shelf of the tack room was an assortment of different-size helmets, and there were at least twice as many stalls as at the Martins’ place, the Widow Maker Ranch. Ever since Gwen had sold the Widow Maker property to his family, it was almost a ghost town—they had a few pieces of necessary equipment and a saddle or two, but that was about it. They only had Sergeant, the black gelding, who was more of his sister’s pasture ornament than anything else.

  After Gwen sold them their ranch and moved in with her husband, she’d turned her sites to fixing up the Dunrovin Ranch. Atop the normal trappings of the barn, the ranch’s crew had strewn up string after string of Christmas lights, wreaths, pine boughs and bows, making the place look like something from a Hallmark movie.

  At the front of the barn they had set up a makeshift dance floor and the band was just setting up and plucking the strings as they tuned their instruments.

  Though he had never been to a Yule Night Festival before, he was sure this was going to be one hell of a shindig.

  His sister, Zoey, walked into the barn. Her hair was a bright red color that matched her Christmas gnome sweater. He laughed, glancing down at her gnome leggings as she walked toward him.

  “Laugh it up, chuckles,” she said, giving him a wink. In her arms was another sweater, which she thrust at him. “Guess what you’re wearing.”

  He groaned. “No. I’m not wearing some ludicrous, ugly sweater.”

  “If we had a choice, do you think I would be wearing this marvel of modern fashion?” she asked, waving at her so-ugly-it’s-cute outfit.

  He chuckled as he unfurled the sweater, revealing a goofy reindeer with too-large eyes and a bit of hay sticking from its mouth. “Wow, this is something. Please tell me this isn’t one of the new bulletproof numbers you and Mindy have been working on.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Come on now, you have to know that we have better taste than that.” She smiled. “If our tactical-gear team came up with something like this, we would only use them as target practice.”

  “Are you telling me you want to use me as target practice?” he asked, teasing his sister.

  “Just put it on before Mrs. Fitzgerald comes out here and sees you aren’t dressed for tonight’s event.” She nudged him. “Their ranch depends on this night to cover most of their yearly overhead.”

  “Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” he pressed. “We’re in hiding, remember?”

  “I’ve done the legwork, everyone attending has been cleared,” Zoey said with an exacerbated sigh. “Dunrovin needs our help to make ends meet. Family does for family.”

  “Family or not, you do realize that if our CIA liaison saw me wearing this, I would be a laughingstock for decades.” He slipped on the sweater over his T-shirt.

  “You already are.” Zoey stuck out her tongue, reminding him that even though she was team leader, she’d always be his older sister.

  He snorted. “Where’s Eli? Is he wearing something to match with you?”

  “He was called to the Pentagon. For what, I don’t know.” Her face pinched. “But Jarrod is here and he has a gnome on his sweater. I’m not surprised you haven’t seen him around. I’m sure he’s hiding out in the ranch’s main office, watching the game or something.”

  “There’s a game on?” He perked up.

  “Don’t you even think about it,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “You volunteered to help out as bartender tonight. Don’t think you’re getting out of it now.”

  “You better hope no one orders anything other than a Budweiser or they are going to be in trouble.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the bar, which was set up in front of the barn under a heat lamp.

  “I thought you might say something like that,” she said, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a bartender’s guide. “Just remember, heavy-handed pouring makes for a short night.”

  “But bigger tips.”

  “If we were after the money, I could think of a thousand better ways to get it. To start, we could have let someone act on the contract that was out on you.”

  “Was. That ship has sailed, sister. Now, I’m a free man.” They both knew he was full of it. None of them were free, not with the Gray Wolves—the terrorist organization responsible for killing his twin sister, Trish—trying to hunt them down. But now wasn’t the time to point out such nagging threats. Now was the time to put up their feet, take a little break from life and have some damn fun. For the last few months it had been nothing but a constant barrage of life’s curveballs, all attempting to strike them out. For once, he wasn’t going to let any drama ruin his fun.

  He took the red book.

  “Regardless,” she said, passing over his little white lie, “we are here to help Dunrovin, not act like jerks. Don’t make an idiot of yourself tonight. You, on your best behavior.” Zoey pointed at him like he was still a five-year-old boy.

  Zoey turned on her heel, then tore off to go after some other poor, unwitting soul.

  As he made his way out of the barn and to the bar, he thought about the last time he’d really felt at ease—the days he’d spent with Shaye after they had gotten out of Spain. She had helped him find his center, thanks to the quiet days they had spent together in France, sitting at the wrought-iron bistro tables, listening to street performers and just staring out at the Mediterranean Sea. In a life as manic and dangerous as his had been for...well, years, it had been nice to breathe.

  Though there were definite sparks, nothing had materialized between them. He had been there to avenge the death of her fiancé, who was also his best friend, not to make a move on Raj’s widow. Chad took out his phone and scanned through the couple of photos he had taken of Shaye when they had been together.

  Even though he shouldn’t have been thinking about her, given who she was, he missed her. Hopefully she was doing okay.

  He and Raj had met in the battlefield of Syria three years ago. Raj had come from a modest background, where hard work and determination were the name of the game and it had served him well in his work as a protective ops team member of
STEALTH. He would do anything that was asked of him without needing micromanaging. He was like the unicorn of employees. Right up until he had fallen in love. After meeting Shaye, Raj told them he was leaving STEALTH and intended on going back to work for his father in the fishing industry—all so he could marry the woman of his dreams.

  Chad had tried to convince him to stay, told him that no woman was worth giving up the good life—a life with no boundaries and a world just a keystroke away.

  Shaye’s father had hired a hitman to kill the man his daughter wanted to marry. Chad still found that unbelievable. And yet, from all he had learned, Raj had been aware of the danger. His friend had made a choice—one that had ended up costing him his life and Shaye her family and her childhood home.

  However, after Raj died—and Chad met Shaye—he could finally understand why Raj had made such a crazy choice. Shaye had a way of smiling, with one corner of her lips, and the simple action made the world brighten around her. She was just like the sliver of moon on an otherwise dark night—her presence made those near her feel not quite so alone.

  He slipped his phone back in his pocket as Mrs. Fitzgerald, the sweet and powerful matron of Dunrovin Ranch, came roaring through the front doors of the barn. Her gray hair was just a touch purple, but it was perfectly coiffed, and even as she breezed by him, not a single piece moved. “Places, everyone!” she called. “Our guests are beginning to arrive and the limos from the hotels will be here in just a few minutes.” She fluffed up her hair as she spoke. “Don’t forget to be kind, considerate, thoughtful! These are our friends, family and esteemed guests!”

  Chad chuckled as he watched the nerves take over the normally steady woman. The way she lit up at the talk of the party and all her guests reminded him of Trish and how she had had always looked when they found out that they were being sent on a new mission.

  It was almost the same look that she’d had on her face when they had gone to Turkey for the gun trade with the Gray Wolves.

  The Gray Wolves... Trish...

  Some of his joy slipped away at the memories of his twin sister.

  He couldn’t wait to say goodbye to this year, and all the heartbreak that had come with it.

  He heard the sounds of chatter and laughter coming from the parking lot as a bus arrived with their first round of guests. Thank goodness they were here, so he no longer had to deal with the thoughts of all he had lost.

  Some losses were too great to think about, too large, too all-encompassing and dangerous in their capacity to bring him to his knees. It was just so much easier to shove them away and lock them up in the area of his mind that he rarely allowed himself to wander.

  Screw healing. Hopefully time would make him forget.

  The first group breezed into the barn and a line formed at his bar. Most people were asking for spritzers, wine or beer—thankfully. But soon he found himself making up the night’s signature drink—the drunk cowboy, his take on an old-fashioned. It quickly became a hit and the guests kept buying him shots in thanks.

  A man sauntered up to the bar, an empty tumbler in his hand and a sneer on his lips. Chad recognized the man—he was an off-duty sheriff’s deputy, Kash Calvert. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  Crap.

  It had been years since he’d seen him, and time had done Kash no favors. He was only a few years older than Chad, but the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the gray at his temples made him look at least a decade older. For a split second, Chad wondered what had happened in this man’s life that had aged him so prematurely.

  On the other hand, the last time he had seen this man, Kash had been calling him a rotten son of a b—

  Not that he hadn’t had it coming.

  “Kash, what can I get you?” he asked, hoping to get him moving along so he could stay out of his direct line of fire.

  He thrust the tumbler at him. “Let’s start with a drink, then we will go from there.”

  As Kash stared at him, a woman walked into the barn. Her dark hair was down, covering her face from his angle, but as she walked there was an air of breeding and plutocracy in the way her hips swayed from side to side, the action smooth and graceful but hinting at sexual prowess. It reminded him of Shaye and he went spiraling to thoughts of her as he poured the whiskey into Kash’s drink.

  He stopped pouring when the glass was three quarters of the way full.

  Maybe the guy would take the heavy pour as an apology.

  He splashed a bit of orange in the drink and handed it over. “This one’s on the house.”

  Kash gave him a look of surprise as the next person in line pushed past him and gave his order. Kash started to say something, but stopped as Chad went to work. He was relieved as Kash turned and sucked away at Chad’s best attempt to mollify him.

  He worked quickly until the line finally dwindled and the band moved into full swing, playing old George Strait songs. As he wiped down his work space, he looked out at the dance floor. Shaye was standing there, her arms crossed over her chest and an expression on her face that made it clear she wished she was anywhere other than standing at the edge of a crowded dance floor in the middle of Montana.

  He stopped wiping as he stared at her.

  What was she doing here?

  Maybe it was her doppelgänger. Shaye didn’t know he lived anywhere near here. At least he didn’t think she did. Was it possible that the Fates had brought them together at this place and this time, or was she here looking for him? The odds seemed long that she was still thinking about him, too, after all that had happened in Spain.

  She was wearing a thick coat and black leggings, and stood out against the rest of the crowd, who were all wearing this season’s best ugly sweaters—several complete with colorful Santa jokes. Maybe she was just like him and hesitated to participate in the nonsense, or maybe she wasn’t here of her own volition. He knew all about that.

  He closed down the bar for a moment, then walked across the barn toward Shaye as the band started to play “Honky Tonk Christmas.” She glanced around at the two-stepping couples and suddenly looked about as comfortable as a ballerina at an MMA fight.

  “Shaye?” he asked, rubbing his hands together in a feeble attempt to stave off his nerves as he walked toward her from across the room.

  As she saw him, her eyes lit up and a smile took over her entire face. “Oh, my goodness, Chad!” she said, her voice taking on a high-pitched excited sound. “I’m so glad you are here.”

  Her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  She rubbed at her wrists. “It’s a long story and I may have been nearly arrested, but I’m here and I’m fine.”

  “Arrested? It must be a whopper.”

  “You have no idea.” She gripped her hands in front of her, looking sheepishly up at him like she was about to ask for one helluva favor. “To be honest, I came here looking for you. You once said if I needed anything, you’d help.”

  “Absolutely,” he said, surprised by her candor. Shaye had more connections than he and his family combined. If she was here, standing in front of him, asking for his help... Well, it could have meant any number of things, but first and foremost she must have been desperate. “What do you need me to do?”

  If her request was that he was to kill a man, he was going to need an hour to finish his shift, then they could hit the road.

  A look of discomfort washed over her features.

  He glanced around at the crowd and saw a few people looking in their direction. “If you don’t want to tell me here—”

  He was cut off as Kash stumbled toward him, his empty tumbler in his hand. “Hey, man, you gonna get back to work or you just gonna hit on poor, defenseless women all night in hopes they’ll take your sorry butt to bed?”

  Heat rushed through his body and his cheeks felt as though they were on f
ire. He instantly regretted giving Kash the extra pour.

  “Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he said to Shaye, hoping to save himself at least a small amount of embarrassment—even if he had it coming.

  He took Kash by the arm and made to move him, but Kash jerked out of his grip. “Come on now, Chadie boy,” he said, spitting his name out like it was watermelon seeds. “What? You don’t want to look bad in front of your new love interest? What is this, number five this week?”

  Chad gritted his teeth as he attempted to check his anger. “Kash, if you want to take your anger out on me for what happened with your sister, then let’s take this outside.”

  “Chad?” Shaye shot him a look as though she was trying to figure out if he was really guilty of the philandering the man was accusing him of or not.

  “He is blowing a mistake out of proportion. Seriously, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He turned back to Kash. “Isn’t that right, Kash?”

  The man expanded like an angry puffer fish, and like the fish, his words were poisonous. Chad stepped back but Kash teetered toward him. “Is that what you call my sister—a mistake?”

  Dating Kash’s sister was a mistake, and he hadn’t meant for anything to head to the bedroom, but Kayla had been lonely an emotional basket case. If he had been thinking straight, the nights they had spent together would have ended with a game of spades and a cup of coffee, but... “No. Kayla’s a nice woman... I didn’t want—”

  Kash swung, his fist connecting with Chad’s cheek. The pain was muted by the shots the patrons of the bar had bought him throughout the night. Until now, with the world spinning around him and the throbbing in his head, he hadn’t realized how much he’d had to drink.

  As he ran the back of his hand over his cheek, he stumbled. Kash was coming at him, his fist pulled back, and Chad watched as it came down upon him. Kash connected with his left cheek and he could feel the bones crack against each other. The dull thud of the hit reverberated through his skull.