Late the next afternoon, Rocco put away the post-hole jack and the metal stakes he’d pulled from the old fence line. He’d continued with his normal work that day, after they had rearranged things in the basement to make the rooms ready for Kit and his team. George had been released from the hospital but wouldn’t be allowed to return to work for another few days. The construction crew continued as usual. Mandy had worked with Kitano. Despite the shadow that hung over the riding center, she had a schedule to keep and there was still much work to be done.
A black SUV turned up the drive.
Rocco shoved his leather work gloves in a back pocket and picked up his shotgun, watching from inside the toolshed. He expected it was Kit, but wanted to be certain. He couldn’t see inside the vehicle with its dark tinted windows, and that made him nervous.
He didn’t have long to wait, however. Kit jumped out of the driver’s side and hurried around to the passenger door. Rocco shouldered his gun and went to greet them.
“Back off, Kit. I’m not a goddamned toddler,” Blade groused as Kit tried to help him get out of the SUV.
Rocco smiled. Some things never changed. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you needed big, bad Kitten to bring you home,” Rocco teased.
Blade’s piercing gray eyes lifted to Rocco. For a moment, Blade studied him, missing nothing. It was uncanny how he could look at a man like that, peel all his protective layers off, and see the truth of what lay beneath. “You look good, Rocco. Kit had me thinking you’d taken up cutting yourself or some such bullshit.”
“Hell, you know better than to listen to him,” Rocco admonished as he held out a hand. Blade hooked his thumb around Rocco’s and pulled him close for a shoulder bump. “I’m glad you guys are here,” Rocco told them, “but I don’t like it one bit.”
Kit slapped him on the shoulder, then handed him a duffle bag. “Thought you’d keep all the fun to yourself?”
“Something like that. Where’s the team you mentioned?”
“They stopped for dinner at the diner in town. Wanted to make it real obvious that the game had changed.” Kit smiled.
Blade looked at Rocco and grinned. “You’ve heard of the subtle and patented ‘Guns Blazing’ approach?”
Rocco laughed. “You staying here or at your place, Blade?” he asked as he took up another duffle bag.
“Here, for now,” Kit answered for him.
Rocco led them through the front door into Mandy’s house. No sooner had the door closed than Mandy came running from the kitchen.
“Kit!”
“Hi, sis,” Kit said, catching her up as she launched herself at him.
She pushed free and looked up at him, cupping his hard chin in her hands. “Wow. Look at you.”
“What do you mean?” he said with a frown.
“You’re all buff. And you’ve got that flat top. You look scary.”
“I am scary.”
Blade scoffed that off, stealing Mandy’s attention. He stood inside the door, leaning on his cane.
“Hi, Ty,” she greeted him, somewhat cautiously.
“What? No hug for the man who watched after your brother’s ugly hide all these years?”
Mandy smiled and gave him a hug. Watching Blade’s arm wrap around his woman, Rocco felt an unfamiliar tension ratchet up his nerves. He had the absurd drive to rip her out of Blade’s hold-until he caught the look in his friend’s eyes, the look of an orphan at Christmas time. Blade had no one, nothing to go home to. There would be no welcome home dinner for him. No one to weep tears of joy at his return. Rocco knew what that hollowness felt like, for he’d experienced that very thing not too long ago. He met Blade’s gaze and watched him shutter away his emotions.
Blade straightened and looked down at Mandy. “Well, little sister, you sure filled out in all the right places,” he said with a grin.
Rocco made a warning sound. Mandy moved to stand in front of him and leaned back against him.
Kit frowned, glaring at Rocco. “What the hell is this? I sent you to protect my sister, not take advantage of her.”
“Dial it back, Kit.” Rocco pushed Mandy behind him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
Kit moved closer, his face dark with anger. “Implying, hell. I’m stating full out. You overstepped yourself.”
“You got an issue with me, then let’s take it outside. ‘Cause, yeah, I got a thing for your sister.”
“A ‘thing?’ What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I care for her.”
“Shit. I care for her, too, Kit,” Blade interjected helpfully, “but you aren’t tearing me apart.”
“Stay out of this, Blade.” Kit was face to face with Rocco now. He was built heavier and had a few inches on Rocco, but such differences mattered little to either of them. “What are your intentions? My sister deserves better than a wham-bam, thank-you ma’am.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Kit.” Mandy leaned around Rocco’s arm to speak-he blocked her from coming forward. “I’m not a child, so don’t you two dare have this conversation without me. And what Rocco meant was that we’re still discovering what it is we’re feeling. Don’t crowd us. Now, why don’t you all go wash up? I’ve got dinner ready.”
Blade laughed. He clapped a hand on Kit’s shoulder and steered him toward the bathroom. “Nice going. Would have been better if you two had come to blows, splattered some blood, broken some furniture. Next time, try harder, okay?”
Rocco had forgotten what a smart ass Blade could be. He rolled his shoulders, then followed his two friends. It was going to be interesting having them here.
Dinner was an event Rocco could have passed on. He didn’t like sharing the table with Mandy and two other men, despite the fact that one was her brother. Mandy sat opposite Rocco, as she had for many meals. Unbidden, the memory of her sitting before him in her bra, laughing, being serious, being Mandy, popped into his mind-the night he’d driven her to put the brakes on their relationship.
“It’s great that you haven’t changed the place much, Mandy. I can still feel your grandparents here,” Blade said. Rocco narrowed his gaze on the man, trying to read beneath his statement. Blade was an expert in manipulative psychology. He knew, always, what to say and when to get the results he wanted. Exactly what was he after here?
“I didn’t want to make many changes. I liked that homey feeling. It’s as if they’ve just stepped out for a little bit and will be right back.”
Blade smiled at her. Rocco lost his appetite. “Your grandfather was a big influence in my life. He stood strong against my dad. He’s the only one who ever did, I think.”
“What he did for you when you broke your leg, getting you to stretch it out by riding and doing all the different chores he had you do inspired me to go into hippotherapy. I noticed your injury’s in the same leg. I can massage it for you, if you like.”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
“No,” Rocco growled. What the hell was wrong with him? Blade was like a brother to him. Rocco should be glad that Mandy could help him, but all he could think of was her hands on his friend’s thigh.
“I’m a trained physical therapist, Rocco. It’s what I do. Or what I was meant to do, before all of this.” Her voice broke, and it was that thread of emotion that made him relent.
“Then you aren’t doing it alone.”
Blade sighed. “Fine. Rocco can join us, because if he doesn’t, I won’t get the massage. And if Rocco comes, Kit has to as well because he’s too damned curious to be left out.”
Kit frowned as if he were no more pleased about Mandy treating Blade than Rocco was. “We’ve got the other guys coming shortly. Let’s get them settled first. Besides, I need to talk to both of you. Rocco, if you have gear down at the bunkhouse, bring it up here. You can bunk with me.” He looked at his sister and added in a grim voice, “Or Mandy.”
Kit’s phone rang. “Bolanger,” he answered.
“Hello, Mr. Bolanger. Glad to see you arrived safely,” came a smooth voice on the other end.
Kit hit a couple of buttons on his phone, triggering the voice recorder. “Who is this?” he asked, though he knew the answer. Amir Hadad, lieutenant to a powerful Afghan druglord.
“I am disappointed that you don’t recognize me. I know your name, where you live, who your friends are, what your sister is doing. I know so very much about you, yet you know nothing about me.”
“So enlighten me,” Kit urged.
“My name is not important. What really matters is that I am going to destroy your life as you did mine. First, I will kill your friends, who themselves are guilty of heinous war crimes. And then I will terrify your sister, a process that has already begun. Perhaps I shall offer her protection as only a strong and intelligent warrior can-”
“Well, that eliminates you then, Amir” Kit interrupted the man’s diatribe.
“Ah, so you do know me. I will destroy your village, as you did mine,” the man continued, his voice strident. “It is the will of Allah that justice be granted. An eye for an eye. Allah akbar, Mr. Bolanger.” The call ended. Kit stopped the recording.
Kit looked at Rocco and Blade. “Allah akbar, my ass.” He played the call back. “Amir Hadad is here, in town. He’s watching us.”
Mandy gasped. Rocco reached across the table and took hold of her hand. He could feel her trembling and tightened his grip. “Amir started it, but we’ll end it.”
“Mandy, do you mind if I talk to Rocco and Blade for a few minutes? We’ll go outside.”
Reluctantly, she let go of Rocco’s hand. “Not at all. I’ll get some coffee started.”
Rocco and Blade followed Kit as he moved across the porch and walked into the middle of the wide, circular dirt driveway. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looked at the construction site. Rocco glanced at Blade to see if he knew what Kit was up to. His face revealed nothing, which meant he knew exactly what Kit was going to say.
“What’s going on, Kit?”
“I want to talk to you about joining Tremaine Industries.”
Rocco had mixed feelings about Kit’s new endeavor. The Army’s Red Team Program produced assassins-the coldest, deadliest killers in the service or out of it. Going into business with any number of other sociopaths wasn’t something to take lightly. “Who else is in?”
“Blade’s in.”
Rocco looked at his friend. Blade smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? I like guns.”
“You know Max Cameron, Val Parker, and Kelan Shiozski,” Kit continued. Those were names Rocco hadn’t heard in years, guys he’d completed the Red Team training with. “The others finished the program before Blade and me or came after you. You’ll meet them tonight. Tremaine Industries is a sanctioned company that’s well funded and equipped. Their work led them to the group behind Mandy’s problems. Owen Tremaine wants you, too, because while collectively we know several languages, none of us has your linguistic capabilities.”
“I’m done, Kit. I’m fried,” Rocco told him.
“Don’t decide yet. We’ll talk more about it later, with the rest of the guys.” He looked at each of them. “I think it may be the only way to keep Mandy safe. And we’d be able to complete something we left unfinished in Afghanistan.”
Rocco frowned. “What’s that?”
“Take down Abdul Baseer al Jahni and his little flunky, Amir Hadad.”
Mandy waited with the guys for the rest of Kit’s team to arrive. Rocco was pacing, which heightened her nervousness. She jumped when Kit’s phone rang.
“They’re here,” he said as he went to open the front door. The dogs started barking when the first of the six men crossed the porch. Each of them was carrying large black equipment cases and heavy duffel bags. When they were all in the living room, the space shrank to half its size. Every one of them was tall, wide, and built for fighting. Though they were dressed in civilian clothes, no one could mistake them as anything but warriors.
Three of them came forward right away to greet Rocco. They grabbed hands and bumped shoulders, pounding each other on the arm.
“Damn, it’s good to see you again,” a tall, black-haired warrior said. He had warm, olive-colored skin with dark brown eyes and arching black brows. His high cheekbones gave him the look of an American Indian. “When we didn’t hear from you, Max and I checked in with Kit. Heard you’d taken a long-term assignment in Afghanistan.”
“Yeah, you were under, what, seven years? Sure took you long enough. But you always were the slow kid in class,” said a man who looked like a Viking warrior.
“Slow kid? What the hell, Val? He smoked your ass in training. He smoked all of us,” the third man clustered around Rocco said. He looked like a pirate with the red bandana he’d tied around his head like a skullcap and his bushy beard and moustache. Blue ink covered his arms in a complex pattern that looked Celtic.
Val grinned. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He paused and gave Rocco a searching look. “You are okay, aren’t you? You look like hell.”
Rocco shook his head and gave them a sheepish grin. “Never could hide anything from you.”
Mandy reached over and slipped her hand into Rocco’s. One by one, the men became aware of her. It was unnerving having all nine of them turn their focus on her. Rocco wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She felt an odd thrill at the thought that he was staking a claim.
Kit glared at him, still unreconciled to the fact that they were together. He made the introductions. “This is my sister, Mandy Fielding and that’s Rocco Silas,” he said for the benefit of the men who hadn’t yet met Rocco. “You guys know Blade. We’ll go around the room.” He thrust a thumb toward the man leaning against the wall. “That’s Owen Tremaine, founder of Tremaine Industries.” His light, blond hair was shaggy and had a slight curl to it. His tan face was weathered and clean-shaven. The fine lines about his ice-blue eyes told a story his mouth would never reveal. His cold gaze met Rocco’s for a long, assessing look before he glanced at Mandy and nodded.
“Mandy, that’s Max Cameron, Tremaine Industries’ systems expert,” Kit said as he indicated the man with the bandana. Shadows darkened his hazel eyes as if he’d seen more of life than he’d wanted to. He looked like a knot of energy. Mandy wondered how he could sit still and be focused enough to be their tech guy.
Next, Kit nodded to the man whose rich butterscotch hair fell in waves from his forehead-the Viking warrior in the trio who’d greeted Rocco. Thick brows framed Caribbean blue eyes. A trim beard and moustache wrapped around his mouth in a way that didn’t quite obscure his dimples. “That’s Valentino Parker, sniper extraordinaire.”
Kit gestured toward a man who appeared to be Puerto Rican, with warm mocha skin and black eyes. “Angel Cordova, Tremaine’s engineer and demolitions expert.” He was built like a wrestler, with arms as wide as her thighs. He had a great square jaw, a mobile mouth with large, white teeth. His hair was thick and wavy, shaved close to his head.
“Kelan Shiozski,” Kit continued, pointing to the next man. “He can move like a shadow,” he told Mandy. Kelan, the third member of the trio around Rocco, had inky, black hair that was straight and fell to his shoulders. He looked like a tribal warrior from long ago.
“Greer Dawson is a systems guy, too.” Greer looked like an all-American suburban athlete, lean and clean-shaven with silky brown hair that curled about his ears. Thick brown brows arched over whiskey-colored eyes.
Mandy looked at each of them as he was introduced. She tried to associate each name with a face, but feared she’d get it scrambled for a while. She’d never seen such a large group of fierce men. She did notice that, except for Owen, each of the other men had acknowledged Rocco with a demeanor that was neither assessing nor judgmental. He was one of them-nothing more needed to be said.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Mandy greeted them. “Thank you for coming out to help. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but if Kit brought you here, it can’t be a good situation.” She looked at Kit. “We’ve cleared out the basement for you. There are three bedrooms down there, two with double beds and one with two bunks. Then there are two more bedrooms with twin beds in the bunkhouse. Put your team where you want them.”
Kit had them move the cases into the basement and their duffels into the bunkhouse and the bedrooms downstairs. He and Blade were going to take the bedrooms upstairs.
While they were getting settled, Mandy smiled up at Rocco. “Have you decided who you’re bunking with yet-me or one of the guys?” she asked with a saucy smile.
He looked at her, surprised at her invitation. “You ready for that? ‘Cause I’ve been doing fine in an armchair.”
“No more armchairs. You need to sleep.”
“Then I better bunk with one of the guys.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He laughed and lifted her up into a tight embrace, holding her captive so that his mouth could take hers. She surrendered in his arms, circling his neck with her hands as her lips parted beneath his. Her acceptance of him was the most seductive thing Rocco had ever experienced. Their tongues stroked each other, gently, slowly. Reverently.
He drew back and looked down at her, touching a hand to her face, shocked by the changes she’d wrought in him in such a short time. Good Lord, he was falling hard for this woman.
“Well, it’s a true fact that you’re a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than any of the team. If you have room for me, I’ll stay with you. I can sleep on the floor.”
She smiled and slowly shook her head. “My bed or nothing. Your choice.”
He frowned down at her. “There is no choice, then.”
“Get a room, you two,” Blade growled as he slung his duffel over his shoulder and claimed one of the bedrooms down the hall. “We’ve got a war to conduct not a porn flick to film.”
When everyone was settled and the equipment had been set up, Owen convened a meeting in the downstairs rec room. As the men moved downstairs, Kit pulled Mandy aside.
“Can you give us a few minutes? Owen and I need to bring everyone up to speed. We’ll have you brief us about what’s been happening afterward. Gather up your files covering the construction project and bring them when I call for you. Greer and Max will start digging through them tomorrow.”
“No problem. I’ll be ready when you are.” Mandy collected her files and stacked them near the stairs. She poured herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and discovered the new team had brought in a ton of food supplies in coolers and bags. She stored what she could in the freezer, fridge, and cupboard, then boxed some of it to take down to the bunkhouse in the morning. It began to feel as if they were preparing for a siege. The whole thing was terribly unnerving.
Downstairs, the guys settled around the room, some sitting on either of the two sofas, some leaning against the walls. Greer and Max turned their desk chairs to face the room instead of the long, white tables loaded with equipment. Owen closed the basement door. “Did you sweep the basement for bugs?” he asked Max.
“We’re clear,” Max said.
Owen nodded for Kit to begin the briefing. “Tremaine Industries provides security and intelligence services to various U.S. government agencies,” Kit said to Rocco. “They’ve been contracted to work on a case out this way involving an Afghan druglord whom Blade, Rocco, and I know quite well-Abdul Baseer al Jahni-and the Wyoming-based organized hate group he’s aligning himself with.” Kit looked at Rocco and Blade.
“Is al Jahni in the country?” Rocco asked.
“We think so. And his hate group of preference is the White Kingdom Brotherhood, or the WKBs.”
Kit sent a look around the room at the rest of the guys. “At the beginning of this year, the three of us, Blade, Rocco and I, executed a kill order to take out a warlord named Ghalib Halim. Rocco had been positioned to collect intelligence on him. Halim wasn’t merely a village elder, a fierce general, and a Taliban officer, he was also a pivotal link in Abdul Baseer al Jahni’s drug trafficking infrastructure. al Jahni replaced him with Amir Hadad. Amir’s a graduate from the University of Colorado. He is the one facilitating al Jahni’s partnership with the WKB to distribute al Jahni’s heroin here in the U.S.”
“What do we know about the WKB?” Kelan asked.
“They’re a white supremacist gang that’s thriving-in prisons and out-in Wyoming and nineteen other states including California, Florida, and Virginia,” Owen answered. “They have about ten thousand members nationally who are not currently incarcerated. They’re making alliances with any criminal group of any racial mix that helps them grow their power network, including the Mexican drug cartels and Afghan druglords.”
“I gave you the identities of the WKBers who got through to Ghalib Halim,” Rocco reminded Kit. “They bragged to us about getting men in their squad killed while on patrols so that they could be taken by Halim’s men. They caused some of the friendly fire incidents that hit the news. The bastards knew being captured was the only way to get close enough for a meeting with Halim. Their allegiance was only to the WKB, never to their units or their country.”
Rocco looked around at the team. No point telling them how easy it was to assume a false identity-they were all masters of that art. “I had the traitors branded before they left Halim’s hospitality. I wanted to be able to find them again if needed. And I made it clear that they were to make a similar mark on their brothers and associates-anyone Halim and al Jahni could trust once they came stateside.”
Kit slowly smiled, holding Rocco’s gaze. “What’s the mark?”
“A crescent moon and star right here,” Rocco said, pointing to the area below his left ear.
“It’ll be interesting to see how pervasive that’s become among the WKBers.” Owen said.
“We believe al Jahni is retaliating against the three of us for the damage we caused his supply chain. He’s learned who we are and where we live, and he’s sending a message to his associates-allies and enemies-that he’ll recoup an eye-for-an-eye if anyone dares move against him. At anytime. In any country. He may be building this into a fatwā targeted against anyone with military connections here in the U.S. in order to grow his power network back home.
“This situation is a Pandora’s Box. If it isn’t quickly contained, there could be a flood of retaliatory actions taken on our soil against our troops, peace officers, and even civilians-families of our warriors. Our warriors’ identities are concealed during missions, but not on base, not from the public, and not from the Afghan askars working with us. Once an enemy knows our name and our point of origin, they have everything they need to hit us hard here at home.”
Kit sent another look around the room, waiting for the full impact of his words to settle in. “Tremaine Industries has been retained to discover who al Jahni’s operatives are, how he manages them, how he put his team together, how he’s funding it. When we have our information, we bring them in for further questioning. We do not, and I repeat-we do not-have kill authority. We take the motherfuckers alive if it’s a kill or capture situation.”
Owen gave Rocco an assessing look. “So now you know what we’re up against. Before we go any further, I need to know if you’re in or out.”
Kit nodded, his expression grim. “Rocco, you met some of the key White Kingdom Brotherhood liaisons. You speak the languages of all the warlords in al Jahni’s network. You’re intimately familiar with their culture, their thinking, and their strategies. We need your knowledge and expertise.”
Rocco met Kit’s hard gaze. Truthfully, he knew he didn’t have what it took to do another long-term undercover assignment. “I’m done, Kit. I can’t go under again like I was.”
“We won’t be sending you overseas,” Owen told him. “We need you here working with us-stateside. I need you to stay in the game.”
Rocco looked away. It was no fucking game. Men’s souls were at stake. But Mandy was also in danger. So were these men and others like them-and their families. He looked around the room at the men Kit had assembled.
Val, Max, and Kelan were men he considered brothers, as were Kit and Blade. The others had to be made of the same steel, forged in the same fire. They had all survived the Program to become Red Team members. Every one of them was a well-honed killing machine. He glanced at Blade, who started to grin.
“Aw, hell. I’m in,” Rocco caved.
Kit came over and shook his hand, pulling him in for a bro hug. “I never thought you were out. Let’s get Mandy down here to go over what’s been happening.”
Mandy walked through the basement door that Owen held for her. She looked around the space that had served various purposes to her family since she was a child, but none this terrifying. In the short time they’d been here, the new team had assembled an entire war room, with maps, white boards, and computers lining the circumference of the rectangular space.
The old rec room, which was large enough for two suites of living room furniture, seemed to shrink in on itself with nine very large warriors in it.
She set her folders on one of the folding tables the team had brought, then went to stand near Rocco. He reached over and took hold of her hand, providing an anchor in a world that had gone crazy.
“Mandy,” Owen started, “as you may have surmised, the problems you’ve been having here aren’t the work of mischievous kids. It’s intentional sabotaging by some enemies of the United States, enemies your brother, Blade and Rocco faced overseas. It’s a big deal, and it’s why we’re here. Those enemies have brought the war stateside, and they’re using it as a distraction to cover their real purpose-growing their drug network.”
Mandy couldn’t hide her shock. She looked from Owen to Kit, then Rocco. Their serious faces drove home the fact that this was a major issue.
“The people in question are teaming up with the White Kingdom Brotherhood. You may have heard of them?”
The WKBers had a big spread less than fifty miles from the ranch. “Yes. Everyone here does. They keep to themselves up at their compound,” she said. “They’ve been there since before I was born. They’ve had a few clashes with the town and the law here and there, but none in a long while. They sometimes go to Winchester’s. Hal, the owner, has had some run-ins with them. But generally, they don’t give us any trouble, and we leave them alone.”
“They aren’t a benign biker gang,” Kit told her. “They’re colluding with Afghan criminals to take their drug network global. They’re still active, still lethal, still spreading hate, and they need to be stopped.”
Mandy looked around the room. “So that’s what this is about, then.” Rocco squeezed her hand, worried about how this added stress would affect her.
“Why don’t you bring the guys up to speed on what’s been happening here,” Kit prompted.
When Mandy finished, Greer asked, “What contractors has George brought onsite?”
“There were several bids, but I think he ended up going with just one who could handle the plumbing. He has an electrician on staff. And there was some flooring work, but he decided to keep that in-house as well. I brought my files so that you can look through them.”
“Wait a minute,” Rocco stopped her. “The sheriff said that plumber was the only plumbing and HVAC guy in town. He’s the one who worked on George’s furnace, too. And didn’t you say he was at the diner that day I felt an enemy?”
Kit frowned at him. “Whoa. What happened at the diner?”
“Mandy and I went there for lunch one day last week. I felt an enemy in the room. Triggered a nasty panic attack.” Rocco sighed and glanced at Kit, who exchanged a look with Owen.
“Look man,” Kit told him, “we all know you’re working through some shit. Your instincts are probably spot-on. They always were. We’ll look into the plumber.”
“It can’t be him,” Mandy argued. “He’s been here for two years. He bought out the business from its old owner. Everyone knows him. He’s not a stranger. And he’s not a drug addict.”
“It’s a place to start, Em. Nothing more. Nothing less,” Kit told her.
Rocco went to the maps and showed the team the areas where he could tell patrols had taken up observation positions. “These are the ridges where we’re vulnerable from sniper fire,” he said, pointing on the topographical map to a few high points that overlook the property. “In the morning, I’ll give you a tour.”
When the briefing concluded, Owen speared her with an intent look. “This is a sensitive operation, Mandy. You’ve been brought into it because you’re already in the middle of it. What we’ve discussed here is not to leave the premises. Is that understood?”
“Of course.”
“If anyone asks what the team is doing here, we’ve come for some R &R and to give you a hand getting the center open. Given the problems you’ve had, no one except the bad guys should doubt the cover. Under no circumstances are you to have visitors over or bring anyone down here.”
“I understand.” She crossed her arms to keep herself from surrendering to a burgeoning sense of terror.
It was late that night before Rocco, Kit, Ty, and Mandy gathered in the upstairs living room. Ty was absently running his fist over the knotted muscles of his thigh. She retrieved a towel and her massage lotion, then faced him.
“Let’s do that massage. The lotion I have contains a mild heating and numbing agent. It should help ease the pain. Tomorrow, I’ll massage it again. And I’ll give you some exercises you can do to help stretch and strengthen your leg.”
Ty leaned back against the sofa, spreading himself open for her as he gestured for her to begin.
“I need you to take off your jeans, please,” she asked quietly.
He stood and grinned at her. “Sure thing, sweet knees.” He dropped his pants, exposing the black boxer briefs he wore and his raging hard-on.
Kit cursed. “Cover that thing up, would you?”
“Mandy-” Rocco growled, warning her away from Ty.
“Enough you two. Leave the man alone.” She handed Ty the towel she’d brought.
“Yeah. I haven’t had any since before I was shot, you know. It’s not like I can control my reaction when a beautiful woman tells me to get naked.”
“Blade, I don’t think you need to be conscious for the massage,” Rocco warned.
Mandy knelt on the floor beside his leg. “The wound looks good, Ty. You had some excellent surgeons work on it. It will take a while to build up your muscle strength again. You’re favoring your thigh, which is throwing you off in other areas-your back, your hips, your shoulders. Let’s get this thigh a little more relaxed.”
She poured the oil into her hands and rubbed them together to heat it up. The light scent of flowers perfumed the air. She knew Rocco watched every stroke she made, but she forced herself to close her mind to his reaction.
“Mandy, how are you funding the construction?” Kit asked.
“Grandpa left me some money from his life insurance policy. And the town has held a couple of fundraisers for the center. I have two grants, one federal, one from a private investment firm.”
“Who was the private firm?” Rocco asked.
“RKT, Inc.,” Ty answered.
Mandy looked at him. “How did you know?”
“We invested in it?” Kit asked, a surprised pleasure in his voice.
“We needed a tax deduction. She needed the money,” Ty answered.
Mandy frowned at Rocco.
“The three of us started an investment company years ago,” he told her. “I had all that income from my salary that I wasn’t using. Blade started investing it for me, then we used it as seed money for larger investments. He’s got an instinct for it that neither Kit nor I have. He and Kit bought in. None of us needs to work another day if we don’t want to. We can live off the interest the fund makes. It took a hit a few years back, but it’s already recovered that loss and then some.”
She looked at Ty, then Rocco and Kit. “I don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your grant. There was one other donation, but I don’t know whom it came from. I found five thousand dollars in cash in an envelope on my doorstep one morning. There was a note that it should be used for the center, but no signature.”
“Do you still have the note?” Kit asked her.
“I do. It’s in the files downstairs.”
“Good. I’ll send it off for fingerprints. See if we get anything.”
As Mandy finished working on Ty’s leg, she heard Kit ask Rocco, “So what’s with the beard, man? Thought you said once you were stateside, you’d never have a beard again?”
It wasn’t so much the question that caught Mandy’s interest as the silence that followed it. She looked over at Rocco, waiting for his answer, disliking the changed tension in the room. She nodded at Ty, then straightened.
Rocco’s face was taut, his eyes bleak. “I’m going back.”
Kit cursed.
“Rocco, he’s gone,” Ty said as he drew his jeans up and fastened them. “We looked everywhere, talked to all our informants, and had our female translators question women from several villages. There was no hint, no whisper, not even any misinformation. No one took our bribes or payments or tried to swap favors. There was nothing.”
Had someone been left behind? Mandy wondered.
“And that didn’t seem like odd behavior? Didn’t make you suspicious?” Rocco asked. “They’re afraid. Terrified. They know something. Someone has him. He did not die.”
“What are you talking about?” Mandy asked Rocco.
His gaze slashed her way. She could tell he did not want to answer. “My son.”
Mandy felt the room spin. He had a son. First, a wife he didn’t think to mention, and now a son. How many more surprises was he keeping? She’d lost her heart to a man who did not trust her and would not share his life-his past or his future-with her.
He could give her only the now, and God knew, if that was all she could get, she’d take it.
Kit stood up. The cold glare he gave Rocco chilled the room. “You’d go back knowing they’d send one of us after you? You’re too dangerous to be allowed to go rogue. Your death would be sanctioned. You’d make one of us, your brothers, kill you.”
Rocco gave a dry laugh, an empty, humorless sound as he, too, came to his feet. “A Red Team assassin would be the least of my problems.”
Blade gripped his shoulder. “Rocco, Rocco, he’s dead.”
“No. I still feel him. He lives.”
“You feel what an amputee feels-a phantom reality. The horror of his death is too terrible to accept.”
The hard planes of Rocco’s face turned rigid. He shoved free of Blade’s hand. “No. I feel him.” Rocco pounded his chest. “Here.” His voice was raw, as if it came from his spirit not his throat. “He lives. He breathes. He cries for me.”
Blade put his hand on Rocco’s chest, his fingers spread wide. “That’s because this is where he lives. It’s where he will always be, where you will always know him.”
Silence. Rocco choked on a harsh breath. His gaze darted around the room. Mandy saw the panic in his eyes, fear the likes of which she’d only seen in abused animals. He stormed out of the house, slamming through the front door. The dogs cowered and looked over at her.
Mandy didn’t move. No one did. She covered her mouth, trying to bottle her emotions. She wouldn’t cry. She looked over at her brother. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and glared at Blade.
Blade stood with his hands on his hips, his head hanging low. Mandy started to follow Rocco. “Leave him,” Blade ordered.
“I will not. I can’t leave him like that. You saw how he was.”
Blade’s face was like stone, his gray eyes emotionless. “He needs time to process things. He has to think it through, has to accept his son is dead. When he does, I honestly believe the nightmares, all this crazy shit he’s going through, will get better.”
“Leave him to it, Mandy,” Kit bit out.
Mandy picked up her oil and the towel Ty had used, then left the room. Her hands shook as she put the lotion away and the towel in the laundry. She heard Kit and Blade in quiet conversation as she took the two strays for their last potty break of the day.
She closed the back door and stood in the cool night air as the dogs saw to their needs. Folding her arms around her middle, she let her pain break free. She dropped down to the top step and wept for Rocco, for his son, his wife. He was like the wind. She could no more stop or redirect or soothe him than she could a tornado.
God, he had a son. Believing his boy was still alive, he must be going insane with worry. No wonder he was so broken. Had his boy been in the explosion with him? Had he been injured, too? Was he dead as Kit and Blade thought? She didn’t doubt they’d scoured the countryside for his son. And she didn’t doubt that Rocco still felt a connection to him. Her heart ached for all of them.
“Hey.” Mandy heard Kit behind her. “Want some company?”
Mandy shrugged. He would stay no matter what she said. She moved to make room for him, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her wrist as she did so.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess you didn’t know about his son.”
She shook her head as she tightened her arms about her waist. “What other secrets does he have, Kit? What other things don’t I know about him?”
“I don’t know, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you. I can tell you he’s a good guy. He’s someone who understands the arcane nuances that define a culture, a people. That makes him dangerous and effective as an undercover operative. Did you know he’s a linguistic savant?”
Mandy looked at her brother. She sniffled and nodded. “You asked him to work for Owen’s company, didn’t you?”
“I did. He’s very good at what we do. It takes a long time to train an operative. Even discounting Rocco’s linguistic skill, he isn’t easily replaceable.”
“What are you guys? Why would you be sent to kill Rocco?”
From the look Kit gave her, she could tell he was considering his words. “We’re an elite unit of soldiers. That’s all I can tell you. We’re allowed to quit or retire, but if any of our own were to go off-grid, one of us would be sent after him.”
“He’s broken, Kit. I don’t think he can do what you need him to do.”
“You ever hear of getting back in the saddle, sis?”
“There’s a time and place for that, Kit. This may not be it. He isn’t whole yet. I’ve seen him crash.” She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t know what would happen if he were to break all the way.”
A noise roused Mandy from sleep hours later. The room was dark. She felt like a kid again, waking when Grandpa rose early to run the plow. He’d give her a sip of sweet coffee from his Thermos, then send her back to bed. He’d grown crops on the lower plateaus-corn, wheat, alfalfa-to supplement their income, and spent many long days in the spring and summer working his two jobs.
She laid in bed now, remembering her Grandma in the kitchen, getting breakfast started on those early mornings. In her sleep-hazed mind, all was right in the world. As she woke, memory faded and reality settled around her like a thousand blankets-dark, heavy, and suffocating.
She reached out to the mattress beside her, searching for Rocco. He wasn’t there. Had he come to bed at all? She remembered his revelation about his son and his intent to return to Afghanistan to search for him, a thought that filled Mandy with dread.
She went to the window and spread the curtains. Someone was in the far pasture, standing in the headlights of the tractor. Rocco. He was using the fence post jack to hoist the old metal posts out of the ground. The clock read 2:00 a.m. She drew a hoodie on over her long sleeping tee, leaving it unzipped, then shoved her feet into her work boots. She knew she looked ridiculous but didn’t care.
She made a beeline for Rocco with the dogs close at her heels, crossing the first field to get to the far pasture.
“Rocco.” He didn’t respond, just kept working the jack to yank the post out of the hard ground. When the post came free, he tossed it down and set the jack over the next one a few feet away.
“Rocco!” He ignored her as he began jacking the post. “Rocco, listen to me!” she said, stepping into the tractor headlights, touching his shoulder. He shrugged her off.
“Leave me, Mandy.”
“No. Rocco, don’t do this. Stop.”
The jack freed the post. He threw it aside and moved to the next post, shoving the jack handle hard for several pumps.
“Rocco-”
“Jesus, Em. What do you want me to do? I can’t sleep-there’s no fucking way I’m gonna lie down and let the nightmares eat at me. You’d think I’d lost my mind again if I took off jogging for a few hours. You don’t want me to sit up, sit still, sit quietly, and let the night pass. I can’t go to bed and just hold you because I can’t be near you without wanting to fuck you. And that shit ain’t happening because you’re not ready for it and I’m not staying. I’m not staying, Em, and likely I won’t make it back. So I’m not doing you any favors by letting you think we have chance. Because we don’t. Not a single goddamned chance in hell.”
The headlights illuminated the angry twist of his features, the fury and anguish in his eyes. He moved to the next post. She didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? There was nothing he wanted to hear, nothing he would listen to. His hurt was so far beyond her reach, there was no aid she could render.
She felt empty inside. And very, very alone. She started back for the house, her heart ripping apart with each step. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rocco straighten. Metal clinked as he threw the latest post like a spear on top of other ones.
Rocco cursed. “What do you want from me, Mandy?” She didn’t stop. She didn’t know how to answer that question so she said nothing.
“He lives,” Rocco shouted. “My son is not goddamned dead. He lives, Mandy.” His broken cry stopped her. She looked at him standing with his shoulders slumped, his gloved hands empty, his heart laid bare in the bright headlights of her old tractor.
She started back for him, walking, then running. She leaped into his arms. He caught her up, held her in a vice grip as he buried his face in her neck and wept. She cried, too, as she stroked his hair. His sobs were ragged, broken, keening, so filled with pain she thought her own heart would rupture.
Eventually, he grew quiet. She pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were searching her face, looking for answers she didn’t have. She kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, pausing there, waiting for him to accept or reject what she was offering. He pressed her face into his, slowing his breathing to match hers. When a ragged breath broke free, he interrupted it by taking her mouth. She became his entire focus. He bent his head to fit his mouth against hers as his tongue swept inside to find hers.
Gradually, Rocco became aware of other things about them, the heat of her body against his, desire swelling, consuming him. He ran a hand down her back, over her bottom. He cupped her buttocks, lifted her against himself, moving them out of the headlights.
“Open for me. Wrap your legs around me.” When Mandy locked her ankles around his hips, he groaned. She laughed against his mouth. Laughed. The sound did something to his insides. Tied him up, set him free. He didn’t know, only that he wanted more of it, more of her and her joy. He lifted her higher and rocked himself against her, feeling the ridge of his erection move against her core, registering a oneness with himself, with the world, with this woman he’d never felt before. And still he wanted more, wanted all of her.
He drew his gloves off his hands with his teeth, switching the hands beneath her bottom as he removed the other one. “I want to be in you, Mandy.”
“Yes,” she answered, her mouth against his.
“Open my pants. Take me out. Let me in.” She did as he ordered, flicking the button loose on his pants, unzipping his fly. The pressure of her hand on that part of his clothing was almost enough to unman him. He jerked hard against her touch. And then he felt her fingers in the waistband of his briefs, inside them, finding him, grasping him.
He tossed his head back and dragged a deep breath into his lungs. And then he was kissing her again, eating her mouth, hungering for more. More. He dragged the hem of her nightshirt free, baring her core. Now only her panties separated them. He didn’t want to set her down long enough to have her remove them. With her legs still locked around his hips, he held her bottom with one hand and pushed the lacy covering aside, then slid his fingers into her sweet folds. She was wet, ready.
“Love me, Mandy.”
“I do. I do, Rocco.”
“Put me in you. Do it now.” He watched as she moved slightly, positioning him. He lifted her, let her own their coupling. She slid him inside her, slowly, slowly, until he was fully seated. It felt so good. He gritted his teeth, aching for her, throbbing, needing to break free. He held her hips and began pumping himself into her, feeling every inch of his cock slide in and out of her warmth.
She kissed him, moaning into his mouth. Their tongues danced and pressed against each other, sliding and retreating as his cock worked her sheath. He gripped her with one hand again as he freed a hand to touch her curls, her clitoris. He gently pressed the swollen nub, feeling her tighten around his cock.
And then her legs tightened, and then she was bucking against him, pressing, pleading for more, her small muscles gripping him, squeezing. He gave it to her, gave her all of himself. Holding her with both hands, he pumped all the way into her, out fast and in hard. Again. And again until he met his release.
He continued holding her until the last echoes of passion faded from them. “Rocco, take me to bed. If you can’t sleep, I know we can find better ways to spend the time than having you out here working, or running for miles, or sitting awake in a chair.” She cupped his face and smiled at him. “Yes?”
He smiled back at her, wondering at his incredible good fortune to have a woman like Mandy in his life. God, he hoped he made it back to her. “Yes,” he answered. “Yes.”
He set her on her feet, then righted himself. He climbed into the tractor seat and shut it down. They walked slowly back to the house, arms around each other. Mandy waited under the covers while Rocco showered. He drew his briefs on, then got into bed next to her. He lifted his arm and waited for her to scoot close to him.
“Why haven’t you gone back to Afghanistan yet?”
He sighed. “I need to get my head on straight before heading back. And I have to remember what happened the day of the explosion. Afghanistan is a deadly place, full of mines and scorpions, snipers and assassins. I have to be fully engaged. The explosion was almost four months ago, now. When Kit had me extracted, it was by force. I was broken. I’d become more Afghan than American. I didn’t want to be taken out. I wanted to stay and search for Zavi. I honestly cannot remember my first two weeks back stateside. They brought me back in restraints, heavily sedated. For the next ten weeks, they had me on a dozen different kinds of meds, trying to find the right ones that would numb my emotions, help me sleep, wake me up, enhance my appetite, calm my anxieties. I was fucked all the hell sideways.
“The only way I could get out of there was to settle down, eat whatever they gave me, pretend to sleep. I knew they watched me sleep. I would fake REM sleep cycles but stay awake. If they saw me having nightmares, I wouldn’t have been released. I went to the therapy sessions. I listened when I was expected to, lied when I was expected to talk.
“Eventually, they thought I was recovered enough to be discharged. I went home, or at least, I went to the ranch where I grew up. My mom had died while I was in training, so there was no one there for me, no reason to stay. The rancher she worked for retired to Florida. The ranch had folded. No one was there. Just the wind and dust.
“And then Kit asked me to come here.” He paused, looking at her. The moonlight caught a shimmer of tears in her eyes. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mandy.” He looked at her. “It’s because of you that I can eat, can touch someone when I need to. I’m even sleeping better. I’m almost ready to go back. But I want to see you safe before I go. And I still need to remember what happened that day.”
Mandy reached over to grip his hand, threading her fingers through his. She lifted them and brought them to her mouth. “You go when you have to go, Rocco. And you come back when you can. I will be waiting here for you. Do you understand me? This is your home. You belong here. When you find your son, you bring him home. I’ll redo my old room in trucks and Transformers and Spiderman for him.”
“His name is Zaviyar.”
“I like that name.” She grew pensive. “Do you think he could be happy here?”
“He’ll love it. He’ll love you.” He pulled his hand free of hers so that he could cup the back of her head, letting his thumb stroke her cheek. “Thank you for believing that he’s alive.”
“I believe in you, Rocco. You’ll find him, and you’ll bring him home. Or you’ll find his grave, and then we’ll know.”