Cease Fire
Janie Crouch
A sordid past, a killer secret…When Keira Spencer is targeted by a killer, only handsome Omega agent Roman can save her. From entirely different worlds, Roman needs to get over Keira’s infamous past to win her heart.
One perfect weekend changed his life
And now he’d die to protect his unborn child...
Two months ago, Roman Weber and Keira Spencer spent a breathless weekend together. But her sordid past and his privileged upbringing conspired against any happily-ever-after. When Keira is targeted by a killer, Omega Sector assigns Roman to safeguard her—and possibly win her back. Then Keira reveals she’s pregnant, and Roman knows the killer must be stopped...if they ever hope to become a family.
Omega Sector: Under Siege
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. This USA TODAY bestselling author cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. She enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com (http://www.janiecrouch.com).
Also by Janie Crouch (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
Daddy Defender
Protector’s Instinct
Cease Fire
Special Forces Savior
Fully Committed
Armored Attraction
Man of Action
Overwhelming Force
Battle Tested
Infiltration Countermeasures
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Cease Fire
Janie Crouch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07895-5
CEASE FIRE
© 2018 Janie Crouch
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to Rob, who married my friend M. I despaired she would never entrust her heart to someone again, but your patience and unfailing love convinced her. I know you will stand by her side no matter what. You are everything I would’ve picked for her and more.
Contents
Cover (#u7139ac77-ace4-531f-8770-378d2a61cae0)
Back Cover Text (#uf4fc7d6e-7d13-5d2e-8a3a-2805b7531827)
About the Author (#u3bef9a89-32aa-5691-ace7-6bcca2c91f5c)
Booklist (#ucebccef7-7156-5ee9-b0d6-2161e71c0711)
Title Page (#u7765caf5-48db-5c38-bcd5-9ac044944464)
Copyright (#uce2d2732-53b3-58d8-9731-1d8120059522)
Dedication (#uc3f0b4a5-cbc1-5029-a6e7-e62ae7964f67)
Prologue (#u5172e063-b31a-565f-9773-dc2fb8263492)
Chapter One (#u8f50e877-1ce6-5e20-8195-3d4912571a8b)
Chapter Two (#u3d70ebe2-a931-578c-ad3b-57aeeb1bdc40)
Chapter Three (#ub2df6dd0-37f4-5a0d-a9dc-8824a3347348)
Chapter Four (#ud97d8bf3-9f22-5e0a-a3df-05fd0e35afbb)
Chapter Five (#uada5b5f6-e898-5286-a7ed-ba09e928bae1)
Chapter Six (#u7822929a-79d2-52ff-acde-0882192b04e2)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
If you wanted someone killed right, you had to do it yourself.
He should stitch that on a pillow. Damien Freihof smiled as he watched guests enter the church.
He knew from “Mr. Fawkes,” his mole inside Omega Sector, that the church had already been swept for explosives and there were guards posted at all the doors. No one without an invitation, and a facial scan to prove their ID, was getting into the building.
It was at least nice to see the law enforcement agency was taking him seriously.
But Damien wasn’t crashing the wedding today. Even though it was Brandon Han and Andrea Gordon’s, both of whom Damien knew personally. They’d all come so close to dying with each other last year—didn’t that bring people closer together?
Damien wasn’t at all surprised they were getting married today, just a year later, after the way Brandon had fought to free Andrea. It had been remarkable, really; the other man’s passion—utter determination—to save her.
He’d saved her that day, but in the end it wouldn’t be enough. Thanks to Mr. Fawkes’s plan, they would all die. Every single member of Omega Sector’s critical response team.
But that was for later. Not today.
Today, Damien was just here to look around. To prove to himself how close he could get without anyone realizing who he was. Snap a few pictures.
Particularly of the woman he planned to kill within the next few weeks.
He’d already picked her out. Knew who would die. He hadn’t yet decided exactly when or how, but he knew it would be with much fanfare and would definitely garner the attention of those working at Omega.
They had to pay—had to pay for what they’d done to him and his precious Natalie.
Damien’s more subtle approach at revenge—convincing others to stalk and kill the people beloved by Omega Sector—hadn’t been enough. Yes, one Omega Sector agent had been killed and another put in a coma, but there should’ve been much more bloodshed by now. Much more grieving.
But Damien had left the killing to others and they had not been able to live up to their commitment. He wouldn’t make that mistake this time. Now he would take matters into his own hands.
But not just yet.
Damien was nothing if not a patient man. It had been a while since he’d last struck and it would be a while before he struck again. Just enough time for the law enforcement agents to wonder if he was still here or if he was gone for good.
He hadn’t gone anywhere.
And soon, while their defenses were down, he would strike again. Strike at the very heart of them.
Everyone might survive the wedding today.
But they wouldn’t survive much longer.
Chapter One (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
Everyone wore their sidearm to the wedding.
Given that at the last wedding, two months ago, a maniac had burst in and tried to kill the wedding party, firearms were understandable.
Every member of the elite law enforcement task force known as Omega Sector remained determined not to be caught unawares again.
The psychopath at the last wedding had been arrested, and fortunately, no one had been hurt. But everyone knew that as long as Damien Freihof, the mastermind behind the recent attacks against Omega, remained at large, none of them would be safe.
So every agent at Brandon Han and Andrea Gordon’s wedding had some sort of holster. Waist, shoulder or ankle for most. A few of the female agents probably had weapons strapped to their thighs or in their evening clutch bags. None of the sidearms were noticeable, but they were there.
Roman Weber had one at both his waist and his ankle. And there was no way he was letting his guard down tonight.
Thanks to Damien Freihof, Roman hadn’t even been able to attend the last Omega Sector wedding. He’d been too busy coming out of a coma from an explosion Freihof had carefully planned. Another Omega Sector agent had been killed. If Roman had been two feet closer to the blast, he would’ve been killed, too.
So no, Roman wasn’t interested in laughing and drinking and dancing, even if many of his closest friends were in the room. Instead, he kept finding his eyes drawn to the multiple entrances to the ballroom of the ski resort here in Colorado Springs, where the reception was being held.
Two main doors leading into the resort, three separate kitchen entrances, and a set of double doors heading out to a terrace. Freihof could attempt to make his way through any of them.
He was around. Roman hadn’t seen the man anywhere, but knew in his gut that Freihof was nearby today. The man was so good at disguise it was possible he already waited here inside the room, although Roman didn’t think so. There were too many trained agents looking for Freihof for him to risk it.
The guy was a psycho, but he wasn’t stupid.
Still, Roman walked over to the shadows closer to the main doors. Just in case.
“See anything suspicious?”
Roman knew Steve Drackett, director of Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division, was present before he spoke. Grace Parker, Omega’s head psychiatrist, stood beside him.
“No. But it doesn’t hurt to keep looking.”
Steve nodded. “Damn right about that.”
Something inside Roman eased slightly. His boss didn’t think he was paranoid. Didn’t think searching for Freihof in the shadows of a wedding was being overly cautious.
Steve slapped Roman on the shoulder. “But you do know that watching for Freihof isn’t solely your responsibility.”
“Maybe not. But it’s definitely something I take personally.”
Grace smiled at him, tucking a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. “If you didn’t take it personally, given what happened, I’d be a lot more concerned.”
Roman had spent a lot of time talking to Grace over the past few weeks. The older woman would ultimately be the one who cleared him for active duty once he was cleared physically.
The required sessions with her had been pretty agonizing at first. Roman wasn’t a sit-around-and-get-in-touch-with-his-feelings sort of guy. But Grace had made him feel comfortable. She had an air about her that never judged or condescended.
She’d helped him realize how damn pissed off he was that he’d almost died. That Damien Freihof had almost killed him. That it was only sheer blind luck Roman was alive today.
And that all those feelings were normal.
“Am I acting crazy, Doc?”
Grace gave a delicate shrug. “You’re acting aware and vigilant. Again, nothing wrong with that.”
“I just want to catch this son of a bitch.” Roman gritted his teeth just thinking about Freihof.
Steve squeezed his shoulder. “Your medical doctor said you would be clear for active duty next week.”
Roman noticed Steve didn’t say anything about Grace clearing him mentally. His behavior here tonight wasn’t helping. He all but itched with the desire to get back out with his SWAT team on active missions. Desk work was killing him one minute at a time. But active duty was a no-go until he was cleared by both the Omega physician and the psychiatrist.
“Okay, I’ve got a beautiful family who need my attention.” Steve grinned as he looked to where his new wife held their two-week-old son at one of the tables surrounding the dance floor. “Roman, you let me know if you think something’s not right. But on the other hand, you’re not the only one on duty tonight. Hell, you’re not even on duty at all.”
Roman and Grace watched Steve walk across the room to his family. Neither of them said anything right away. Roman was going to try to outwait the older woman, but knew that she would win that battle. The psychiatrist had much more practice at the waiting-out-silence game.
“I noticed Steve said that I’d be physically cleared for active duty next week, but he didn’t say anything about being cleared by you,” Roman finally said, not looking at Grace.
“Do you think you’re ready for duty, mentally? Emotionally?” she asked.
“I know that sitting at a desk is doing more harm to my mental health than being active and back out with the team would do.”
“And is that what you think I should say in my report?” Grace raised one eyebrow.
Roman had long since learned that almost every statement he gave to Grace would result in another question from her. It didn’t bother him anymore. He knew it was just her way of getting him to think through answers for himself.
Grace Parker was a brilliant psychiatrist. She worked with all sorts of people at Omega Sector: agents, victims, and had even acted as the SWAT team’s medical doctor in a few emergency situations. If she wasn’t twenty or so years older than his own thirty-one, he might have made a move on her long before now. Not that she would’ve taken him up on the offer.
“You want me to say whether I think I’m ready or not,” Roman said.
“Ultimately, that’s what really matters, isn’t it?”
“Not on the piece of paper, it’s not. Only your opinion matters, not mine.” Roman trusted Grace to give an honest judgment and not hold him back if she thought he was fit for duty.
But damn it, he wanted so badly to be back out in the field he could practically taste it.
“Do you think that I think you’re ready?” she asked, turning toward him.
“I would hope so.”
“Do you think I think you think I think you’re ready?”
Roman tried to wrap his brain around that statement, until he realized Grace was grinning.
“Now you’re just messing with me,” he said, shaking his head.
Her soft laughter rang out. “Guilty.”
Roman smiled now, too, the tension broken. “That’s not very nice, you know.”
“If it helps, I wouldn’t tease you about it if I didn’t think you were prepared to join the team in active missions.” Grace said.
“Really?” Roman turned to face her more fully.
“Steve didn’t mention me clearing you for duty, because I cleared you over a month ago.” She smiled at him. “Mentally, I think you’ve been ready for a long time. You just needed to give your body some time to rebuild and restrengthen.”
“So I’m cleared?” Roman felt tension he’d held for weeks melt off him.
“Yep. As soon as your physician says so.”
“You don’t think it’s a little odd that I’m wearing two weapons here tonight, and wandering from shadow to shadow to make sure Damien Freihof isn’t somewhere in the building?”
Grace shook her head. “I’ll admit it might be a little bit hyperdiligent. But I promise you, you are not the only person here with two weapons. And you are not the only person here searching the shadows every few minutes. Including the groom.”
Roman looked around the room. Grace was probably right. He’d been so caught up in his own need to be sedulous that he hadn’t realized there were a dozen others being just as watchful.
“Now, believe it or not, I actually have a date to get back to.” Grace smiled again, tilting her head toward a man in his early sixties sitting at a table nearby. Grace’s husband had died a few years before and Roman was glad she was seeing someone socially.
“Thank you, Grace. Sometimes it’s hard to stay centered.”
“That’s what I’m here for. That’s what we’re all here for. For each other. You’ve got to remember you’re not in this alone. I think that is what Damien Freihof most wants to do—isolate us and fracture us. It’s important that we don’t let that happen.”
Roman nodded. “You’re right. I’ll try to relax, at least a little bit tonight.”
“Aren’t your mother and stepfather here? Do you want to spend some time with them?”
Roman refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely. “No, I’d rather sit here and look for invisible bad guys than go hang with my mom and Maxwell, and listen to all the reasons why I should be rubbing elbows with the bigwigs in the room.”
Grace laughed. “Well, the state political VIPs are definitely here en masse. And I know you’ve said your mom would much rather you had gone into politics than be a member of the Omega SWAT team.”
“Whether I wanted to or not.”
Grace shrugged. “Regardless, they are family. Don’t cut them out.”
“Trust me, I couldn’t cut them out if I wanted to. If you see my mom, don’t tell her where I am.”
Grace grinned again. “Will do. And Roman, it’s a wedding. It’s okay to have fun, maybe talk to a girl—like that gorgeous one you’ve been checking out all night whenever you let your guard ease enough to think about something other than Freihof.”
Roman knew exactly who she meant. Keira Spencer. The raven-haired, curvy, petite bridesmaid. One of the bride’s friends from high school or something. His attention had been drawn to her tonight like it had at the last few social functions he’d seen her at, as friends of Brandon and Andrea. He would’ve asked her out long before now if his plans hadn’t been waylaid by the whole coma thing.
His eyes left the shadows and sought out the dark-haired beauty now. Like him, she was standing mostly away from the action of the wedding, although he doubted it was for the same reason.
“Exactly,” Grace said, touching Roman gently on his arm. “Freihof wants all our attention to be on him, not on living our lives. Let’s not give him that satisfaction.”
With that she gave him one more smile and made her way back to her date, who politely stood and held out her chair as she sat down, smiling brightly at her as he did so. Roman already liked this guy.
Grace was right. This was a wedding, and it was already midway through the reception. Armed guards stood outside every door. The entire site had been swept extensively for explosives. Trouble in the form of Damien Freihof wasn’t making its way in here tonight.
Plus, as Grace had pointed out, they weren’t here to focus on the criminal mastermind, they were here to celebrate Brandon and Andrea, two of their own.
Roman didn’t know either of them well, but what he did know he liked and respected.
Brandon Han was generally regarded as one of the most intelligent men in the entire country, and his family was an important part of the state government, so this wedding was a grand event. An interesting blend of watchful law enforcement, merry partygoers and political personages networking in a neutral, friendly setting.
The last, Roman knew, included his mother and stepfather. He had no doubt his mom was searching for him, to encourage him to network likewise.
She still hadn’t quite embraced the concept that Roman had chosen law enforcement as his means of contributing to society, rather than politics, like his late father.
Roman got a beer from the bar and headed back to the shadows, although this time to avoid trouble rather than search for it.
He wasn’t alone for long.
“You’ve got that ‘oh hell, it’s another wedding’ look on your face.”
Roman glanced at the man who had made his way to his side. Damn it, what was his name? Sam Poniard or something. The guy wanted to be SWAT, but for whatever reason hadn’t been accepted into the training program.
He shouldn’t take it personally. Most people who applied didn’t get accepted.
“No kidding.” Roman gave a smile to the other man. “Seems like agents around here are falling like flies. You’re Sam, right?”
“Saul.”
“Saul, that’s right. Saul Poniard. Sorry, man. I blame the coma.”
Roman could tell he’d offended Saul, but the other man still gave a slight smile. “I guess almost getting blown up is certain to affect your memory.”
Roman doubted he would’ve remembered the other guy’s name anyway, but didn’t say so. He would be sure to remember it now.
“How’s it going for you? Enjoying the party?”
Saul nodded. “Yeah. Not usually my thing, but I thought I would stop in and say hello. Thought it might get me some points.”
“Points for what?”
“I’m thinking about reapplying for SWAT.”
Roman grimaced. That’s why Saul was over here talking to him. He was campaigning. Of course, Roman had zero to do with who got initially accepted into the training program. The leaders might ask the team’s opinion before bringing someone on in the final stages, to make sure he or she was a good fit, but not at the beginning.
“Well, good luck with that.” Saul appeared fit and strong enough to be in the program. But for whatever reason, he was being overlooked. Roman trusted the people making those choices, Steve Drackett being one of them.
“Maybe we could work out sometime. Spar or something.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure, no problem.” At least Poniard wasn’t asking for a letter of reference or anything. “Hopefully, I’ll be cleared for active duty next week. But I’d be happy to do some lighter stuff with you until then.”
“That would be awesome. Thanks. Are you hanging back in the shadows looking for Freihof? I’ve been doing the same thing.”
Maybe Poniard would make a better SWAT member than leadership was giving him credit for.
“Yeah. I have to admit I am. Although Steve Drackett was over here a minute ago reminding me that it’s okay to relax. That there are other people on guard here.”
And Steve and Grace both were right. Roman needed to not let Freihof steal any more of his life. His eyes flew back to Keira, who’d made her way onto the dance floor with the bride and the groom’s sisters.
Keira was a much better place to center his attention, rather than searching for an enemy who wasn’t here, or avoiding family who wanted what he didn’t.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Saul said. “But I understand. SWAT has to be diligent.”
Roman clapped the other man on the shoulder and gave him a smile. “How about if you help us be diligent tonight? Just keep an eye out.”
Saul nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, will do.”
Roman excused himself. His mother was moving in his general direction and he had to make sure she didn’t catch him. He didn’t want a scene tonight.
Roman smiled and took another sip of his beer as he moved away. He loved his mother, even though Maureen Weber Donovan tended to be a little conceited. He knew she loved him and fiercely guarded the family name. She’d remarried after Roman’s father, a member of the Colorado General Assembly, had died fifteen years ago, and had never stopped encouraging her children to continue their father’s political legacy.
Whether they’d wanted to or not.
Not that Roman wasn’t ever going into politics. He just wanted to do it on his own terms, not on his mother’s. He wanted to make a difference in the system, and his time at Omega Sector continued to help him understand where the system worked and where it needed fixing.
Roman rubbed a hand over his face and sat down at a table that had been vacated by people out on the dance floor, still glancing around the shadows, looking for danger. A couple months ago he would’ve been out on the floor with them. Could’ve kept a watchful eye out while having fun at the same time. He was known as the jokester on the SWAT team. The one with a witty comeback and always ready for a good time, taking nothing too seriously.
Or had been.
He wasn’t trying to go back to that persona. He’d been changed at some very basic level by his near-death experience and would never be that same person again.
And although he had no desire to talk politics tonight at his friend’s wedding, he could see that perhaps he might be moving in that direction sooner rather than later. Not because he was afraid of death or wanted to get out of the SWAT team, but because now more than ever he realized how short life really was.
Maybe it was just time for him to grow up. Maybe all these changes would’ve come about regardless. All Roman knew was that he couldn’t go back to who he’d been before he’d almost died. Didn’t want to go back to who he was formerly.
But before he could move forward with his life, they were going to have to catch Damien Freihof. Although Roman had to make peace that it wasn’t going to happen tonight.
Keira had taken herself back off the dance floor and was standing over in the shadows at the side of the room. Roman stood. He was finished staying away from her.
Finished letting Damien Freihof determine every decision he made.
At least for now.
Chapter Two (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
“How do I know the bride? Oh, we used to be strippers together back in the day.”
Keira hadn’t actually used that statement as the answer to the question she’d been asked a few times, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.
But Andrea, the bride and one of Keira’s closest friends, hadn’t disclosed her previous line of work, so Keira wouldn’t, either.
Although Keira didn’t care who knew she was once an exotic dancer. She wasn’t ashamed of it. She had clawed her way out of a hell most people would never even conceive, and she wouldn’t apologize for how she’d survived. Dancing had been part of that.
But if the bride wanted to keep her past private, that was certainly her prerogative. Keira wouldn’t reveal the information, either.
“Hey there, beautiful. You doing okay?”
The bride had somehow sneaked up on Keira right as she’d been thinking about her. Their arms wrapped around each other.
“Yes! What are you doing over here with me? Brandon’s going to be looking for you.”
Andrea smiled, her straight blond hair in stark contrast to Keira’s riotous dark curls. “He’s watching me, I can feel it. I’m not sure where he is exactly, but I can guarantee he knows where I am.”
Keira laughed. “If he wasn’t so crazy in love with you, that would be sort of stalkerish. But I know what you mean.”
Andrea’s smile, as always, was soft and sweet. She was never going to be someone who wanted to draw attention to herself if she had other options. That had been true even back in their dancing days. Keira still didn’t know how Andrea had managed to survive it.
Except that Andrea was a survivor.
Ultimately, that had drawn Keira and Andrea together, the two of them so opposite in personality, looks and temperament. Survivor had recognized survivor.
“I love you, Andrea.” Keira brought her friend in for another hug. “And I’m so excited for you here on your beautiful day, and for the stalker standing over there with some friends, looking at you with adoration in his eyes.”
“Do you really think this turned out okay?” Doubt tinged Andrea’s voice. “This wedding was so much bigger than I wanted. This reception so elaborate. It’s just that Brandon’s family is involved with politics and business. They wanted to do the whole big thing.”
“It’s perfect. The wedding was beautiful, everyone is having a good time at the reception and you’re handling it all like a champ.”
Andrea didn’t have her own family—her parents had died when she was young, and the people who’d raised her afterwards had made her home life so bad that she’d run away as a teen rather than stay there—but Keira had to admit the Hans had embraced her with such open arms that she could hardly claim no family anymore. They loved their son and loved their new daughter-in-law.
Proof was in Brandon’s sisters making their way over to Andrea a few minutes later and pulling her out on the dance floor.
As they went, a man—the very epitome of tall, dark and handsome—caught Keira’s attention from across the room, over near the terrace doors. He was studying her in a way that made her insides begin a slow burn. Keira knew he was an Omega agent, had seen him around at a couple events in the last few months, but didn’t know his name. Had been afraid to ask in case she couldn’t stop herself from pouncing on him.
Her attention was yanked back by Andrea. “Come join us!” the bride said over her shoulder, a new sister attached to each arm as they crossed to the dance floor.
“In a few.” Keira laughed and waved. She looked over again, but tall, dark and handsome seemed to have moved back into the shadows.
She shrugged, surprised by how disappointed she was to lose that moment with him. She didn’t tend to be so romantic as allowing herself to feel heat from just a glance.
Didn’t tend to be romantic at all.
But Keira didn’t head to the dance floor. Most people had brought a date to dance with. Keira deliberately had not because, as one of the bridesmaids, she wanted to be able to concentrate on Andrea and anything she needed. But mostly because she just didn’t date much.
Keira looked around at the large crowd. There seemed to be two types of people populating the wedding. Omega Sector agents, all half mingling, half watching the door for any sign of that maniac who had almost killed both Andrea and Brandon last year. They were intelligent, they were armed and they were ready.
And they weren’t even the most dangerous people in the room. That was the other part of the crowd.
The wealthy. The privileged. The elite.
Those people scared Keira much more than someone with a gun did.
They shook hands and slapped backs, then stuck proverbial knives in those very same backs as soon as it served their best interests. The room was filled with men and women who aspired to be congressmen, governors, maybe even more. Those who desired to start, run and sell multimillion dollar corporations.
And they had the power—or the family with power—to back up those goals.
She knew these types of people, knew what they could do to someone. Had been married to a member of a family like the ones here. One who had powerful political aspirations.
Six years ago, she had fled this state a broken person. Not much more than a child. She had bought her freedom from the upper echelon with her own blood, always afraid the man who’d broken her would wield his wealth and power to find her again.
His family wasn’t here tonight; Keira had made sure that would be the case long before this day came. She’d asked Brandon, not Andrea, if the Cunningham family of Denver would be attending the wedding. Brandon hadn’t thought so and had double-checked, since his parents—who were paying for the wedding—were inviting some business and political associates he didn’t know well. He was soon able to assure her there would be no Cunninghams in attendance.
Keira had expected Brandon to press for details, but he hadn’t. Just gave her that look that said he’d probably already figured out 90 percent of the situation in that huge brain of his, and moved on to other questions, about wedding bands and cake flavors.
Keira had been relieved she wouldn’t have to miss one of her closest friends’ weddings. But she would have to avoid Jonathan Cunningham and his family.
There weren’t many things Keira was afraid of in this world. But a family willing to use its wealth and power to hide the hideous sins of its son?
Let’s just say she was never getting involved with anyone from a wealthy and powerful family again.
Not that she had much interest in attaching herself to anyone on a permanent basis. When the bouquet was tossed in a little bit, Keira would definitely not be part of the group trying to catch it. She’d already lived through her own hell of a marriage once. That was plenty for one lifetime.
Andrea waved to her from the dance floor and Keira made her way out there. No more boo-hooing over the past. Keira had survived. She would always survive.
Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
Keira joined the group out on the floor, jumping and waving their hands over their heads to an upbeat song. Andrea was positively glowing. Keira was so glad her friend had found her knight in shining armor.
Keira didn’t need one. She preferred to fight her own battles and had now finally gotten herself situated to help others who needed assistance.
Help people like the scared, broken girl she’d once been.
After a few more dances, things began to wind down. The speeches were given, the cake cut, the music became slower. She noticed some women sliding their high heels off to give their feet a rest. Keira didn’t need to, one of the perks of her ex-occupation.
She grinned to herself from the edge of the ballroom, where she stood in the shadows. Her three-inch heels were nothing compared to most of the shoes she’d danced in at the club. Plus they made her seem not quite so pitifully short.
“I have to admit, you look like someone very pleased with herself.”
The deep voice startled her and she glanced to her side.
Wow. Tall, dark and handsome had decided to join her in the shadows.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.” His smile was so charming she couldn’t help but smile back.
“I just didn’t think anyone was hiding here but me. At least on this side of the room.”
“Are you hiding?”
Keira shrugged a shoulder exposed by her strapless dress. “Only because I’m afraid Andrea’s going to throw the bouquet in a minute.”
He chuckled. “You gathering your strength to wipe out the competition?”
Keira raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Look at them.” She waved her arm toward some of the single women at the tables in the middle of the room. “I don’t need to gather my strength to take them out.”
“I stand corrected.” He laughed softly again, the sound doing things to Keira’s insides she hadn’t felt in a long while.
“But no, I’m over here because I don’t want anyone to notice when I don’t join in the tradition of tackling poor, defenseless flowers.”
“I thought all single women wanted to catch the bouquet.”
She turned completely toward him so she could give him the full weight of her opinion of that asinine statement.
But instead just got caught up in the ridiculous blue of his eyes, coupled with his brown hair. She literally felt her breath catch at the spark between them.
So much for not being romantic.
He felt it, too. She could tell by the way he eased closer. “I stand corrected again. Not every woman wants to make a flying tackle for the bouquet. I’m Roman Weber. I work with Brandon and Andrea at Omega.”
“Nice to meet you, Roman Weber. I’m Keira Spencer, old friend of the bride.”
“I’ve seen you around.”
Yeah, she’d seen him, too, since she’d moved to Colorado Springs six months ago. But she’d never had a chance to talk to him before now. Or really, Keira hadn’t pushed it. Had deliberately not let herself be pulled in by the instant attraction between the two of them.
With him standing beside her, she couldn’t help but be pulled in by it now.
“Dance with me?” He tilted his head down near her ear and whispered the words softly. The music was slow. Sultry even. Definitely not helping her resist this attraction pooling in her.
“I’m trying to stay out of the lights on the dance floor, remember?” But she knew if he led her out there she would definitely not resist.
She felt his arm slide low around her waist. “Not out there,” he whispered. “Right here.”
He pulled her into him and began to gently sway with the music. His other hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, keeping their fingers entwined.
Even with her heels she barely came up to his chin. She knew this sort of closeness should make her feel uncomfortable, and waited for that tinge of panic to assail her.
It never came.
One song led into a second as they moved slowly together, in perfect rhythm.
“Why are you hiding in the shadows, Roman Weber?” Keira asked as the second slow song ended and the band took a break for the bouquet and garter toss.
“I’m dancing in the shadows with a gorgeous woman,” Roman replied.
“Not hiding from the garter?”
He smiled. And still hadn’t slipped his arm from her waist or released her hand from his chest.
“No. Although I will admit, shamefully, since I’m a grown man, that I’m trying to avoid my mother and her nagging agenda at events like this.”
Keira smiled. “Mom’s not a big fan of you working at Omega Sector?”
“Oh yes, believe me, she is not happy about my chosen profession.”
She couldn’t blame a mother for being concerned about her son’s well-being. Keira could feel the muscles of the chest beneath her fingers, the light balance he had on his feet. Roman was definitely an active agent. Probably regularly in the line of fire. A mother could be forgiven for nagging about that.
“I understand the hiding. Even if I wasn’t trying to avoid the bouquet, I generally avoid crowds like this.”
He eased back so they could see each other’s eyes. “Law enforcement agents?”
“No.” She shook her head, smiling. “The other ones. Rich and privileged, with an agenda of their own.”
Roman studied her for a long moment in a way she didn’t really understand.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Nothing.” His gaze turn into something softer, more inviting. “You’re trying to get away from these people. I’m trying to get away from these people. What do you say we just get out of here together, right now? I have a suite upstairs.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It can just be for more dancing. I promise.” That smile again that took her breath away. “All I’m trying to do is save you from the plant-damaging violence of the bouquet toss. Although I agree, you could definitely take out most of the women here.”
Despite what some people might think of her because of her past profession, giving in to an instant attraction wasn’t Keira’s normal way of doing things. Letting a man get close to her was difficult. Hell, given her previous marriage, even being attracted to someone was a novelty.
But the attraction between her and Roman Weber was something fierce. She couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to.
And she didn’t want to.
For the first time in her life, Keira threw caution to the wind. “What if I’m interested in more than just dancing up in your suite?”
His grinned widened. “Then I would ask why the heck we’re still here talking about it.”
He let go of her waist and pulled her to the door.
Chapter Three (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
They didn’t leave the suite for the next day and a half.
They hardly left the bed except to grab what they ordered from room service.
Keira couldn’t stop smiling. She came back out of the bathroom midday Monday after brushing her teeth and attempting to do something with her hair, hardly recognizing the woman she’d seen in the mirror.
Spending the weekend in bed with a man she hardly knew really wasn’t part of her MO. She may have been an exotic dancer, but that hadn’t meant she’d allowed men close to her. As a matter of fact, stripping had been the furthest thing from intimacy for her.
While onstage, she’d known exactly what moves to do to make the most money and gather the most attention. And even offstage she’d always been confident and capable, her thriving salon business now proof of that.
But when it came to intimacy with a man, Keira was much more wary. Her confidence much lower. She could thank Jonathan Cunningham for that. After her disastrous sham of a marriage, she’d been afraid to get close to anyone.
She could count on two fingers the number of relationships she’d had since her divorce six years ago. And that was including whatever was going on with Roman right now.
He’d already taken her phone’s calendar and scheduled her to have dinner with him every night this week, so evidently he planned on them seeing each other again after they left here.
And she couldn’t stop smiling. Not her fake-but-sparkling stage smile, but her legit, bubbling-from-somewhere-deep-inside smile.
“I like that look on you,” he said, as she crossed to him with the sheet wrapped around her.
“Sheets are all the rage this season.” She twirled as if she was on a runway, then let out a yelp as he grabbed the sheet and pulled it off her.
“That’s even better,” he murmured, using the sheet still wrapped around her hips to pull her closer. His lips melded to hers and she melted into him.
“You know we have to leave this room sometime,” she finally said against his mouth.
“How about if I quit my job at Omega and you close the salon?”
She giggled. “I’m pretty sure they’d kick us out of here soon, when we run out of money.”
“Argh. Damn consumerism in the US.”
His phone buzzed again on the nightstand. Hers had been doing the same thing for the last few hours.
The real world was calling.
It was late Monday afternoon. The salon was closed on Sundays and Mondays, so it had worked out fine to be here with Roman. But she had paperwork to do and the salon involved much more than just cutting and styling hair.
But she hadn’t explained any of that to Roman yet. Even though he was law enforcement, she still wasn’t completely comfortable sharing the Fresh Starts salon’s true purpose. Those secrets weren’t fully hers to tell.
“I’ve got to get back to the salon.”
“I thought it wasn’t open today.”
“It’s not. But paperwork and shipments and handling stuff all keep going no matter what day it is. The glorious life of a small business owner.”
“And I guess I’ve got to go back to Omega and sit at a desk all day.” He gave the most adorable pout, lying there against the pillows.
“Aw.” She trailed her fingers down his cheek. “Poor little SWAT team member frustrated by having to use his brain?”
She joked, but the burn scars he had across his chest and shoulder from his close call with death two months ago were anything but funny.
He spun her around and had her pinned under him in a second flat.
“I’ll admit I’m much more prone to action than I am profiling or researching.” He bent down to kiss her and shifted his hips so they were more fully pressed up against each other. Keira couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her as his lips worked their way across her jaw and down her neck.
His phone rang again. This time the music from the movie Jaws. Keira laughed. It wasn’t the first time that person had called.
She pushed at his chest to stop his lips from going lower down her shoulder.
“Okay, I’ve got to know who that is. The Jaws theme.”
Roman propped himself up on his elbow and rolled his eyes. “My mother.”
Keira threw her head back and let out a laugh. Until Roman took advantage of her exposed throat and soon had her gasping for breath.
But when the shark theme came again from his phone five minutes later, Keira knew she had to get him to answer it.
“Roman, it’s your mother.”
“She’ll call back.”
“Uh, yeah, in another five minutes. You said she doesn’t like your Omega job. She’s worried about you.”
After what had happened with that explosion that had almost killed him, Keira didn’t blame his mom. She nudged him. “Just answer it so she won’t be worried.”
He didn’t look thrilled, but he did it. Probably because he knew his mother wasn’t going to stop calling until she knew he was safe.
“Hello, Mother.”
Immediately, Keira could hear his mother talking at a rate and pitch that had to be barely discernible even to Roman. Keira couldn’t make out a bit of it and she was only six inches away.
Roman kept the receiver at his ear and bent down to kiss Keira again. A luscious kiss that almost made her forget the other woman on the line. But all too soon, he ended the kiss and pushed back.
“Of course I’m listening.”
He winked at Keira and got up from the bed, walking naked across the room toward the window. “I left the wedding early with a friend.” He glanced back at Keira and smiled. “Yes, someone I met at the wedding, and that’s why I left. Well, met again. We have mutual friends.”
Keira didn’t think she’d ever get tired of looking at Roman’s naked form. Hard to believe those six-pack abs and firm buttocks were what he looked like now, during recovery. Him in top physical form just might kill her.
“Keira Spencer.” He waited patiently while his mother said something else. “I tell you what, why don’t I check with her and see if she’s available to join us all for lunch next Sunday?”
Keira’s eyes flew to Roman’s. Did he really want her to join his family for lunch? He was smiling reassuringly at her. Maybe this wasn’t as big a deal as she thought.
Regardless, she got up while he was finishing with his mom. She needed some sort of fortification right now. Clothes seemed like a good start.
She dressed, glad she had grabbed her change of clothes and toiletries from the hotel room she’d booked but hadn’t used. She was putting on some makeup when he finished his conversation and tapped on the door.
“You okay in there?”
She opened it. “Dinner with the family? Does that mean I get to wear your letterman’s jacket, too?”
He stole a kiss. “Smart-ass. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Sunday lunches with my family are sort of a networking event. Everybody brings someone if they want. I don’t always even go.”
Was he backpedaling? Did he not want her there? She didn’t know him well enough to know how to respond. “Oh. Well...”
“I tell you what. Have dinner with me every night this week and then if you still like me, you can come hang with the family. They’re pretty overwhelming.”
She laughed and shook her head at his crazy proposal. “I can’t have dinner with you every night this week. The salon is open late some nights.”
“I’ll bring takeout.”
It was nice to be wanted, and by someone not only so damn attractive, but trustworthy also. He was a friend of Andrea and Brandon’s and worked for one of the top law enforcement agencies in the country. Pretty damn trustworthy.
And although they hadn’t gotten into each other’s financial background in the hours they’d talked in between bouts of lovemaking over the last two days, Keira felt safe in assuming Roman wasn’t part of the high society group she’d left behind six years ago. Nobody born with a silver spoon and aspirations of power became a member of SWAT, putting his life in danger every day.
Roman Weber was pretty close to damn well perfect.
He finally wore her down, and she agreed to having dinner with him two nights and the meal with his family on Sunday.
It was crazy and scary and oh-so-exciting.
For the first time in six years, Keira could actually imagine a relationship with someone. Maybe not marriage—she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for that—but something long term. Permanent.
There were still obstacles, of course, Keira very definitely wasn’t naive. One utterly fabulous weekend did not necessarily mean they’d have something going on long term.
But it was a hell of a start.
Chapter Four (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
When Sunday rolled around and Roman picked her up for the mid-afternoon lunch with his family, Keira was still on cloud nine.
She’d thought that Roman would pull back, try to play it cool this week. To maybe ease out of their meal-with-family plan.
Actually, Keira was surprised she hadn’t pulled back herself. It was all a little scary.
And although they’d toned it down a little physically, both of them wanting to reset and ease more gently into whatever was happening between them, she’d seen or talked to Roman every day this week.
She felt like Cinderella waiting for the clock to strike midnight and everything around her to turn into a pumpkin. Things couldn’t continue to go as well as they’d been going.
Fresh Starts continued to thrive also. Not just the salon part, although Keira could admit she was damn good at styling hair, but its fuller purpose: providing women who had nowhere else to go a shelter. Apartments where they could stay as long as they needed. And then training in cosmetology, so the women had a way of supporting themselves.
Keira had sunk all the money she’d had left of her inheritance—money she’d desperately needed when she was younger, but that her parents had thought they were being so wise in putting into a trust fund untouchable until she was twenty-five—into the shop, the equipment and the building. She owned it all, free and clear. No debt, which allowed all the earnings from the salon to funnel back into the shelter.
And she would use it all to help as many women as possible. Help them get out of abusive or trafficking situations. Help them learn they had other choices, other options, than what they’d grown accustomed to. She had three women living there now.
She still hadn’t told Roman about the safeguarding aspect of the salon. It was too soon. That wasn’t something you told someone you’d been dating for only a week.
Dating. She grinned at the word.
“What are you smiling about over there?” He reached out and grabbed her hand with one of his, keeping the other firmly on the steering wheel.
“Just at what a difference a week makes. If you had asked me a little over a week ago what I would be doing this Sunday, I would’ve put a million dollars on anything but this.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah, this week was pretty unexpected for me also.”
“I’m not trying to rush things.”
“Me, either. Let’s just have this lunch with my parents to get my mom off my case, and then we can take things at our own pace.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He looked her up and down and wagged an eyebrow. “As long as our own pace means I can take you back to my place tonight.”
She ran her hand through his thick brown hair as he drove. “I think that can be arranged. So are we going to your parents’ house? Do your brother and sister both come over every week?”
The thought of a mom cooking for her family even though the kids were all out of the house was pretty heartwarming.
“We don’t get together every week. Usually it’s more like once a month. Daniel is off at college. Angela comes if she can be bothered and sometimes brings her fiancé, Brock.”
“I think it’s great.” For someone with no siblings and dead parents it all sounded sort of lovely.
But a few minutes later, when Roman made a turn into the entrance of the Colorado Springs Country Club, Keira’s good feelings started to ebb.
“The country club?” She tried to give a light laugh, but it came out sounding as brittle as she felt.
“Yeah.” Roman smiled at her, unaware of her tension. “I guess I should’ve mentioned that my mother doesn’t really cook. All our family dinners or lunches are here.”
Keira tried to squash the panic bubbling up through her system.
Just because they were at a country club did not mean that Roman’s family was anything like Jonathan’s family. A country club membership did not necessarily mean power and privilege. Lots of people were involved in a country club. Regular, happy, kind people who also happened to have money. Or liked to play golf.
The words didn’t settle the panic in her system.
Keira remained silent as they drove up to the covered portico of the clubhouse. What could she say without sounding completely ridiculous? That country clubs threw her into a panic because of what had happened to her in her past?
She and Roman hadn’t gotten into any of that. It wasn’t anything she wanted to talk about. Wasn’t anything she’d thought she’d needed to talk about.
The valet opened the car door for her and she automatically stepped out, thankful she’d worn a nice knit dress coupled with heeled boots for this casual meal she’d thought she’d be attending. What if she had worn jeans? Would they have let her in?
Even Roman coming around the car and putting a hand on the small of her back in a protective gesture couldn’t stop her sense of foreboding.
“The most important thing to remember is just not to take my family too seriously.” He smiled at her again and still didn’t seem to realize how panicked she was, thank goodness. “I surely don’t.”
Keira didn’t answer as she studied the people around her. This country club was no different than the ones she’d gone to in Denver when she’d been married to Jonathan. Everyone was still chatting, shaking hands, slapping backs, congratulating themselves on being masters of their universe. It was a typical Sunday afternoon at a place like this.
Keira knew she was being unreasonable, that it was unfair to judge everyone on the actions of the few, but she couldn’t help it. She felt like she was going to throw up. She had to get a grip.
“There you are!” A woman in her midsixties, with perfectly styled brown hair in a bob, rushed over to them. “I thought you said you’d be here at one o’clock.”
“I didn’t think I needed to bring Keira for mimosas, Mother.” Roman leaned down and kissed the woman on her cheek as she offered it up to him. “Family lunch is quite enough.”
Roman’s hand rubbed circles at the small of Keira’s back. “Mother, I’d like for you to meet Keira Spencer. Keira, this is my mother, Maureen Weber Donovan.”
Maureen turned to Keira and for just a moment disdain burned in her eyes, before she quickly masked it.
“So glad you could join us so we could get to talk to you today,” Maureen said. “Roman doesn’t bring many of his girls around to meet us.”
The snub that Keira was just one of many, and therefore unimportant, was slight and said so gently it was almost unrecognizable.
Definitely recognizable was that this family obviously had money. It surrounded everything about Maureen, from how she dressed, to her walk, to her scent. It was all expensive and expertly finished.
They walked over to the table where the rest of Roman’s family sat, and introductions were made. Maureen introduced her husband, Maxwell Donovan, who was not Roman’s father but the man Maureen had married after Roman’s father had died fifteen years ago.
Maxwell Donovan was much more interested in the drink in his hand and the football game he had on his smart phone than he was in anything happening at the table.
Roman’s sister and her fiancé had also joined them. They seemed nice enough and by the time everyone had ordered lunch, Keira felt like maybe she had imagined the entire thing with Maureen when they’d first met.
The meal was fine, tasty. Everyone made light, mostly meaningless conversation. Even Maxwell joined in at times, although no one seemed offended when he would jump out of a conversation and back into his game when he felt it necessary. Roman’s smile had Keira relaxing and thinking that she’d allowed her paranoia to cloud her judgment earlier.
Which was why she was so unprepared for the attack when it occurred.
Keira couldn’t fault Maureen in her timing: she waited for dessert. If she had done it any earlier in the meal it would’ve just made everything awkward. Instead, she went for the kill in between bites of crème brûlée.
“So you two met at the wedding last week?” Maureen’s smile didn’t falter at the question.
Roman smiled over at Keira before answering. “Yes, although we had seen each other before the wedding and knew each other through mutual friends. But last week was the first time we truly connected.”
Keira appreciated that he was trying to make their relationship sound a little more respectable than how they’d actually got started. Not that she was ashamed of it, but telling his mother the hot details seemed unnecessary.
But Maureen Donovan had plans of her own.
“So I noticed you were one of the bridesmaids. How do you know Andrea?”
“She and I worked together a few years ago.”
Maureen looked over at Keira. “Was that before, during or after you were a stripper?”
The words were stated clearly, distinctly enough to make sure not only everyone at their table could hear them, but those guests sitting at the tables surrounding them, as well.
Keira realized she should’ve expected it. She knew people like this. Knew what they were capable of. And yet she’d let herself be drawn in here thinking that being on Roman’s arm could protect her.
She wasn’t stupid. She didn’t know why she had made such a stupid mistake.
Maureen calmly took the napkin out of her lap and folded it, placing it on the table beside her plate as chaos ensued around her. At the word stripper, even Maxwell had turned off his beloved football game. Angela and her fiancé had both gasped and gone wide-eyed, looking back and forth between Roman and Keira.
Roman narrowed his eyes and looked at Maureen. “What are you talking about, Mother? Andrea Gordon Han is an agent at Omega Sector.”
Maureen glanced at her son. “But she wasn’t always an agent at your beloved law enforcement agency—” her eyes turned back to Keira “—was she?”
Keira refused to allow herself to be browbeaten by this woman. “I can’t speak to Andrea’s past, but yes, I used to be a stripper. It was quite lucrative, actually.”
Keira could feel Roman studying her, but she didn’t even look at him. She knew where her enemy was and it was right across the table.
And Maureen wasn’t done. “And now you’re a hairdresser? Is that correct, dear?”
“Yes, it is.” Keira took her napkin and folded it next to her dessert plate just as Maureen had.
“I would imagine that’s not quite as lucrative as taking your clothes off—and whatever else you did—for money.” Maureen’s smile never faltered.
“Mother, that’s enough.” Roman’s voice held a cold anger, but Keira honestly wasn’t sure if it was directed toward his mother or toward her.
Maureen strategically knew when not to push. “Of course, dear. I was just pointing out that a new business can be such a drain on the pocketbook. I wasn’t sure if Keira maybe had discussed needing assistance from you.”
In other words, that Keira was using Roman for his money. Ironically, if she had known Roman and his family had such wealth she would’ve never gotten involved with him in the first place. She’d thought she’d just been getting involved with a law enforcement agent.
“I can assure you the salon is doing just fine and in no need of financial assistance from your family.” Keira stood. “As a matter fact, I would like to thank you for the lovely lunch, but now I should probably be getting back to the salon.”
Maureen smiled. “Of course, dear, you should get back to where you belong. A new business owner always wants to be with her business.”
A few minutes later, after tense goodbyes, Roman had the car pulled around by the valet and they both slipped inside, the silence between them thick and heavy. Neither of them knew quite what to say. No matter how much Keira wanted it to be different, Maureen’s words had hit them both hard.
The drive back from the country club was more of the same. Except for agreeing to go back to the salon rather than his place, there didn’t seem to be much to say.
Roman finally spoke as they pulled up. “My mother—”
Keira cut him off. “Your mother is the matriarch of a family with wealth and power. She wants to protect you. And your family name.”
Keira was intimately familiar with that sort of family protection. It had nearly cost her her life six years ago.
“But still, what she said wasn’t...” he seemed to struggle to find the correct word “...polite.”
Polite. No, talking about someone’s tawdry prior profession at a country club wouldn’t seem polite to him.
Keira shook her head. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. I was a stripper, Roman. I did take off my clothes for money. I don’t apologize for it or try to hide it. And I am a hairdresser now.”
“I know that.”
They sat there in silence for long minutes, neither of them knowing what to say.
“Look.” Keira finally broke the quiet. “We probably jumped into this relationship thing too quickly. Let hormones or lust or whatever get the best of us. Maybe we should just say we had a great week, super fantastic sex, and leave it at that.”
Because Keira couldn’t get involved with a man from a powerful, well-connected family again. She just didn’t have it in her.
Roman looked relieved. “Yeah. Maybe so. Just let it breathe for a while.”
But they both knew “letting it breathe” meant letting it go.
Roman opened the car door for her and hugged her before he left. They both mentioned something about getting together sometime in the future. They both didn’t mean it. Roman gave her a small smile and wave before driving away.
And right there in the late afternoon, the clock struck midnight and everything around her turned to pumpkins.
Chapter Five (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
Two Months Later
“Who’s up for a beer once we get off?” Liam Goetz asked as the SWAT team was heading back late in the afternoon from a full-day wilderness training course.
The Omega Sector SWAT team wasn’t often called in to do wilderness work, but it did happen. Therefore, training happened.
But this just seemed to be another long day in a series of long days for Roman.
“Don’t ask Roman, for God’s sake,” Lillian said, rolling her eyes. “He’s cranky. Again. This has something to do with a woman, I’m telling you.”
“I’m not cranky,” Roman protested, even though he knew it was just going to feed their argument. “And it has nothing to do with a woman. It’s just been a long-ass day.”
But his team was right; Roman was irritable. He’d been cranky for two months now.
And he knew exactly why he was grumpy, although he’d be damned if he’d admit it to anyone.
“Yeah, you tell him ’em, Roman.” Liam nodded supportively. “My wife was pregnant with twins, so I know what cranky looks like. And you’re only a little bit like that.”
The rest of the team chuckled, even Derek, their leader, so Roman knew he’d been pretty bad. John Cornell and Saul Poniard, two guys not part of the normal SWAT team, were with them—Poniard probably still trying to get bonus points like he had at the wedding—looking both confused and amused at the banter. Cornell studied them all like they were science projects. The guy gave Roman the creeps.
“I’d be irritable, too, if I had almost been blown up,” Ashton Fitzgerald, the team’s sharpshooter, said. “Oh, wait, I was almost blown up.”
Lillian rolled her eyes again. “You found the love of your life in that situation, Fitzy. Weber didn’t. So you’re not supposed to be cranky.”
Fitzgerald held out his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just glad you guys aren’t mocking me about being Summer’s handyman anymore.”
Even Roman had to smile at that. They’d teased Ashton mercilessly over his crush on Summer Worrall and the fact that she’d thought he was her condo building’s handyman for the longest time.
“Oh, I’m sure she still thinks you’re handy.” Liam wagged his eyebrows. “Just for more than fixing her sink now.”
“All right, boys and girls, it looks like nobody is getting a beer tonight,” Derek said, breaking in. “We just got a call. Emergency hostage drill at the simulator.”
Nobody groaned out loud, but everybody wanted to. Not that they minded being thrown extra training at the end of a long day. They expected that, even welcomed it, to keep the team focused and prepared.
Their apprehension lay with the training center itself. Everyone glanced in Fitzgerald’s direction, since he’d been the one almost killed in the very first training op in the simulator months ago.
“Don’t look at me. As long as we don’t have to wear the suits, I’m all for it,” Fitzgerald said.
Derek nodded. “No suits. No suits for the foreseeable future.”
The mesh suits, which were supposed to have simulated a gunshot wound by giving the team member a small electric shock, had malfunctioned and shocked Fitzy’s body over and over, until the SWAT team had finally cut the power to the whole building and saved his life.
The suits were great in theory, but in practice ended up being a bust.
With rumors that it had been deliberate sabotage.
“The call is one hostage and one perp. Federal office building.”
“One bad guy, boss? Seems a little lax, doesn’t it?” Lillian asked.
Derek shrugged. “Maybe they’re taking pity on us since we’ve already put in a fifteen-hour day, but somehow I doubt it.” The SWAT truck pulled up to the training simulator. “So let’s be ready for whatever they’re going to throw at us. Poniard, Cornell, you can come in, too, but you’ll need to stay back.”
John Cornell nodded, but Poniard looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to be part of the action. The guy definitely wanted to be SWAT.
The multimillion-dollar training simulator was designed to be different every time a team went in. The designers could pull up multiple scenarios and realistic-looking robotic bad guys, who were pretty accurate in terms of their “choices” and actions. Some of the best video game programmers and computer engineers in the world had developed the system. Once they got all the kinks worked out—for example, the suits not accidentally almost killing someone—law enforcement groups from all over the country would come here to train. Omega was very fortunate to have it in their backyard.
The team entered the giant warehouse-type building, into a holding room. There they traded out their real weapons for simulated ones. They weighed about the same and even felt very similar, but shot light beams rather than bullets.
The countdown was given, the door opened and the team walked into a replica of any generic urban area. This time it was a downtown situation, at night, with rain. Actual mist was simmering in the air around them. Darkness surrounded them except for what little light the streetlamps provided.
“Cornell, Poniard, this is as far as you go. Everybody else, keep your eyes peeled,” Derek said. “One perp can’t be right.”
Roman couldn’t agree more. The Omega SWAT team got called in for cases bigger than what local PD could handle, or if a situation occurred on federal property.
One bad guy in one office? Omega wouldn’t be called in for that, and it didn’t do that much good to train for it, either. But they would, regardless.
“Fitzy, Liam, head around back. I’m sure there’s some sort of fire escape on a building this old. Lil, find us a completely separate way into the office in case we need it. Roman and I will take the front. Let’s use cameras to see what we’re dealing with here, and watch your backs.”
Everyone took off in their assigned direction. Fitzgerald and Liam were the first to check in.
“We’ve got a visual on the suspect and the hostage. Hostage is female, according to the dress she’s wearing, tied to a chair, and has some sort of sack over her head. Suspect is pacing back and forth,” Fitzgerald reported.
“Or pacing as much as a robot can,” Liam added.
“Okay, pacing means agitated,” Roman commented. “Agitated means unpredictable. And like Derek said, watch for a partner.”
Roman and Derek were at the office door, which opened to a hallway. Derek positioned the camera cord under the door; that would allow them to get a visual feed from the room. Roman guarded the hallway to make sure no one would be able to come up on them unawares.
“Okay, confirm that,” Derek said, once the camera was in place. “Looks like we don’t have anybody else in the front room, either. I can see the suspect pace by.”
“Derek, I found a way into the air vent and have a good view of the entire room.” Lillian’s voice came through very soft in their ears. “Believe it or not, I think this is just a one-person gig. I can take him out without killing him and we can end this right now. Still have time for the beer and more of Roman’s crankiness.”
Roman rolled his eyes. This was too damn easy. “Maybe they’re keeping it simple this time. We’re always ready for the big baddies, but sometimes we just come up against a lone wolf.”
“Let’s hold for five minutes and see what happens,” Derek said. “Because this is a damn waste of good beer time if this is all they’ve got for us.”
Five minutes came and passed with nothing but the “hostage taker” continuing to pace.
“Okay, we breach on my mark,” Derek finally said. “Lillian, you take the guy out without killing him, everybody else enters to give her any backup she needs.”
“Roger that,” the team echoed back.
Roman wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe ninjas falling out of the sky or a bomb under the conference room table.
But nothing like that happened.
Maybe, like he’d told Derek, this was an exercise in restraint, to make sure the team was ready to handle a situation that required less brawn and more finesse.
But it still sucked.
The team entered the office building at the same time Lillian dropped from the air duct. She rolled as she landed, and shot the suspect in the shoulder, causing the simulated gun he held in his hand to fall to the ground.
Within moments the rest of the team had “cuffed” the bad guy so he could do no further harm to anyone.
Mission over.
“Okay,” Liam said. “That was almost as relaxing as getting a beer.”
Fitzgerald laughed. “Honestly, I thought the floor was going to turn to acid or something.”
“My bet was on flesh-eating zombies,” Lillian said.
Roman went over and took the sack off the “victim’s” head. But where a realistic robot face should’ve been was some sort of television screen.
With the picture of a woman, also wearing a dress, also tied to a chair, also with a sack over her head.
“What the hell?” Roman said. The rest of the team rushed over.
“So glad you could defeat one single perpetrator.”
Curses flooded the training center as the team watched Damien Freihof come into view on the screen.
“You have such a difficult time catching me, I thought we better see if you could catch a single bad guy in the simulator.” Freihof smiled for the camera.
“Where is he?” Roman muttered to the team.
“Not here, that’s for sure,” Lillian returned. “That’s a real office, not the simulator.”
Freihof’s face took up the entire screen once again. “Before we continue, let’s make sure we have everybody at Omega on board.”
A few seconds later, Roman felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He grabbed it, only to see Freihof’s picture come up on that screen, too. It looked like the same thing was happening to the rest of the team on their phones.
“I want to apologize to you,” Freihof said, looking impossibly genuine. “I’ve been toying with you, and the people who I’ve been working with haven’t always been successful in the tasks they’ve been given.”
“Is there any way to trace this?” Roman asked quietly to the side.
“Not from here,” Derek responded. “But if he’s broadcasting this to everyone in Omega, then somebody’s tracing it.”
“I realize,” Freihof continued, “that my colleagues’ failures to kill the people we targeted may cause you not to take me so seriously. And again, that’s my fault. Never trust someone else to do a job you really should do yourself.”
Freihof, showman that he was, slowly removed the hood from his victim’s head.
Grace Parker.
Roman looked into the eyes of the older woman he’d spent so much time talking to these last few months. The one who’d gotten him through not only the explosion that had almost killed him, but sorting through the feelings he had for Keira Spencer.
“Damn it, where are they?” Lillian said.
“I think that’s Grace’s home office. I met with her there a couple of times when I had required visits,” Roman said.
Derek was already calling it in.
But Freihof was too smart to waste time now that he’d let his location be known.
“I’ll make this lesson quick,” Freihof said, nodding sincerely. “You call yourself the good guys, but that’s not always the case, is it? It’s time for you to pay for your sins.”
The entire team rushed toward the screen as if they could do something when they saw Freihof take out a knife and stand behind Grace Parker.
“It’s time for you to know the pain I’ve known.”
Everyone watched helplessly as, with his words, Freihof slashed the knife across Grace’s throat. She died in front of them, none of them able to do a single thing about it.
Chapter Six (#u0d840a4b-a91f-59ee-8331-2a2acd4a7195)
An odd mixture of devastated silence and barely concealed rage permeated the air of the Omega conference room two days later. The mood inside the building reflected the weather outside.
A deadly storm was brewing.
Another one of their own was dead. This time murdered in cold blood right in front of their eyes.
Steve had called an all-hands meeting, knowing the team needed firm leadership now more than ever. Brandon Han stood at the front of the room with him. They both looked like everyone else in the room did: as if they hadn’t had a moment’s sleep since Grace’s death and wanted to break something with their bare hands.
Preferably Damien Freihof’s face.
Lillian sat next to Roman in the corner near the back. Tension fairly hummed through her small body.
“I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to sit through a meeting,” she whispered to Roman.
“I know. And Steve knows. Don’t worry.”
The room was pretty evenly divided between investigative agents and SWAT, with a few crime lab scientists and computer experts thrown in. You could tell who the SWAT team members were even if they weren’t all similarly dressed in black cargo pants and formfitting dry-weave shirts.
They were the ones—like Lillian—with a furious energy flowing through their bodies. They didn’t want to sit around having a meeting about how to catch Freihof, they wanted to be out there doing it.
But they couldn’t do that, because once again, they had no idea where Freihof was located.
“Grace Parker was one of our own,” Steve Drackett began. “A vital member of the Critical Response Unit and a personal friend to many of us. She’ll never be replaced.”
Steve waited in silence for a moment.
“Freihof has brought a war to us. To our own doorstep. We’re going to damn well make sure he regrets that.”
Everyone in the room nodded. A few cheered. Everyone sat up a little straighter.
“I’ve called you here today because I want to make sure everyone is up to speed on the case,” Steve continued. “Everyone is at risk, so we all need to have as much information about Freihof as possible. Brandon.”
Lips tight, Brandon hit some buttons on the keyboard of the computer he stood by and brought up a timeline on the big screen.
“Our history with Freihof goes back a long way. We thought it started five years ago when my wife, Andrea—before she was associated with Omega—was able to let Steve know about Freihof’s intent to blow up himself, and a couple dozen people, in a bank in Arizona.”
Steve nodded. “Grace was there that day also.”
Brandon paused for a moment, nodding, before continuing. “Freihof was stopped and sent to prison, but escaped last year. Andrea and I were both nearly killed when he reappeared in Arizona after his escape.” Brandon pointed to another spot on the timeline. “He showed back up here in Colorado two months ago, after not being seen for ten months.”
A picture of Summer Worrall and her daughter, Chloe, came up on the screen. Roman saw Ashton Fitzgerald tense. The other man didn’t like to think about what had almost happened to his fiancée, and the child he considered to be his own daughter.
“Two months ago, Freihof targeted Summer Worrall, because of her connection to us.” Brandon looked over at Roman. “We almost lost Roman in the explosion Freihof set, and Tyrone Marcus died.”
Roman didn’t need a reminder.
“A week after that, Freihof went after our friends in Texas, Caroline Gill and Zane Wales. Fortunately, the people he convinced to target them were not able to fulfill their mission—part of what Freihof was talking about when he killed Grace.
“We had not seen or heard anything from Freihof for two months. Although we certainly had hoped he was gone for good, we knew that wouldn’t be the case.” Brandon looked around the room at everyone. “But things have changed now. Freihof has upped the ante.”
Again, there were multiple muttered agreements.
“Freihof has decided to get his own hands dirty rather than just use other people to do his killing, the way he has in the past,” Brandon said. “Up until now, part of his MO has been convincing others to do his dirty work for him. We’re not exactly sure why, probably part of some sort of elaborate mind game.
“But what we do know is that he did not get the results he wanted, trying to convince others to do the killing. Their success rate was less than optimal.”
“He succeeded in killing Tyrone,” Roman reminded everyone.
Brandon nodded. “Yes, but Tyrone’s death was not the actual plan. He wasn’t the target.”
“Although that doesn’t make Tyrone any less dead and it doesn’t mean that we’re not going to make sure Freihof pays for that,” Steve assured everyone.
“Freihof has now decided that he wants to do at least some of the killing himself. Grace Parker was his first target. We don’t know anything except that she will not be the last,” Brandon continued. “This is the note that we found at the scene of Grace’s murder.”
A new picture came up on the screen. A note very clearly written in bold stroked letters.
When you lose someone you love it hurts.
“What the hell does that mean?” Lillian asked. “If he thinks it hurts now, wait till I get him in my rifle sights.”
There were a few soft chuckles around the room. But everyone felt the same way. Not a single person present would hesitate to take Freihof out if he or she had the chance.
Brandon leaned against the table. “We’ve studied the video of Grace’s death. It led us to look in a different direction than we had been. Specifically, the sentences ‘You call yourself the good guys, but that’s not always the case, is it? It’s time for you to pay for your sins.’”
A new picture came up on the screen, the photo of a beautiful blonde young woman.
“Do you think that is his next intended victim?” Roman asked.
“No.” Brandon shook his head. “She was actually our victim.”
“Our victim? What does that mean?” Lillian asked.
“It was six years ago,” Brandon responded. “Some of you weren’t even here at that point. There was a raid at a federal reserve in Tucson. The hostage situation had gotten out of control and we were called in.”
Roman nodded. He remembered that case, but wasn’t part of it. He’d been new on the SWAT team at the time, still in training.
“I remember that incident,” Derek said. “The team was called in, we infiltrated the building. I think one of the bad guys was killed, and unfortunately, a couple of people were injured. And then there was some explosion, right?”
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