Chapter 2
“Two hundred!”
Thomas King and Quentin Zane were doing sit-ups, one right after the other, in quick succession. They moved faster and faster, trying to outdo one another, like a seesaw, up and down.
King’s abs were screaming, but he’d be damned if he stopped first.
Zane grunted in pain.
“You ain’t gonna quit on me now, brother?” Please let him say “yes,” so I can stop.
“Fuck that. I could do this for another hour.”
“Yeah? Well, I could do this all day long.”
They were both drenched in sweat, after spending the last thirty minutes doing a brutal HIIT workout. King needed a couple of ibuprofen and a long hot shower.
“You’re both full of shit,” Travis “Storm” Reynolds said, from across the room. He was running sprints on the treadmill.
King and Zane were former Navy SEALs and Storm used to work for the CIA. They’d collaborated on several missions to take down terrorists in the Middle East, and now they all worked for Black Star Security.
They were in the gym located on the second floor of a renovated barn. It was the headquarters of their operation, and their barracks, all in one neat package. Since they all worked and bunked together, they were like a family.
Yeah, a really awkward family.
“Why are you workin’ out with us anyway?” Zane asked, in between huffing and puffing. “Don’t you usually go for a walk?”
“In case you missed the last episode, let me catch you up. A serial killer broke in here, kidnapped one of our crew and poked her with a knife. So, fuck that. I’m gonna get buff. I’m talking an Arnold Schwarzenegger level of fitness.”
Storm was thirty years old and he already had a lean, muscular build. He stood a bit over 6 feet tall, with dark brown hair and eyes.
A few weeks ago, they’d rounded up escaped fugitives, and the thing had gone a bit sideways. Thankfully, no one had gotten hurt. Well, no one that mattered anyway. The murderer was now six feet under, where he belonged. King wasn’t losing any sleep over his demise.
“I thought you installed a state-of-the-art security system.” King gasped for breath.
“Aren’t you ready to quit, old man?” Zane taunted.
“Never.” He laid back down and struggled into a sitting position again. “And who are you callin’ old man? You’re only a year younger than me.”
“Yeah, but I look way younger.”
Zane was thirty-two, six feet tall, and he had steely blue eyes, medium brown hair, and a sinewy, well-developed frame.
King grunted, and Stormy rolled his eyes.
King was six feet eight with reddish blond hair, and he usually sported a thick layer of stubble on his chin. Although, it had grown into a full-blown beard, because he hadn’t shaved in a month.
Zane’s black German Shepherd puppy, Bomber, trotted over and sniffed him experimentally. Zane gave him a fond pat on the head, and the puppy settled by his hip and nosed him, trying to get Zane to play.
“Your bond with Bomber is downright strange.” It was almost like a furry child.
“You’re just jealous because he likes me better than you.”
When Bomber grew up, he’d be their canine officer. Zane had also handled a dog in the field, Ares, so he was experienced at training them. That dog would’ve followed him into hell and back.
“I know you let him sleep in the bed, and follow you around, but you don’t, like, bathe with Bomb, do you?” Storm asked.
Zane scowled. “No. He’s a puppy, so he needs a lot of attention. And I want him to trust me in the field, so it’s important to build a relationship. Therefore, anywhere I go, he goes. Get used to it.”
Bomb leaped onto Zane’s stomach, wagging his tail, and barking. Zane collapsed on the floor, unable to move.
“And we’re done.” With a Herculean groan, King grabbed a towel and wiped his sweaty face.
“So, who won?” Storm asked.
“We both did.” King glanced at Zane who nodded.
Zane gave him a high five. “Damn straight, we’re awesome.”
“Downright spectacular.”
Storm just shook his head.
***
After showering, they all headed downstairs to the kitchen.
While Storm made his customary smoothie, King seized a cast iron frying pan and cooked Zane and himself scrambled eggs, veggies, and some bacon while the coffee brewed.
Due to his six foot plus frame, King required a lot of fuel. Workouts always made him ravenous.
Zane took a seat at the end of the table, and Bomber settled at his feet. Storm joined him with a glassful of green junk.
“Whatcha got?” Zane asked.
“A green smoothie this time—avocado, romaine lettuce, kale, green apple, and almond milk, along with ginger, for its anti-inflammatory properties.”
“So, basically it’s a salad in a cup?”
“Yep.” He took a slurp.
“Gross.” King shuddered.
“Hmm, I’ve been thinkin’ about eatin’ healthier.” Zane squinted at the smoothie.
“Awesome. I could help you out, Zane, if you want.”
Zane mulled it over. “Yeah, I’d like a few tips, but I’m gonna eat eggs and bacon this mornin’.”
“Fair enough. I’ve also been thinking about organizing runs a couple times a week. Would you be interested?”
King and Zane were Southern gentlemen, while Storm had grown up in California. He’d picked up some strange notions on the East Coast.
Zane lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“What about you, King?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” King didn’t mind working out, but he hated running. He’d gotten his fill of it in basic training. They’d made them carry heavy ass backpacks and run five miles every damn day.
The phone rang, and King hit the green button. It was his younger sister, Elinor.
“Hey, Ellie, how’s it goin?”
There was a long pause. “Everything’s fine.”
“Great.” She’s lying. King knew her very well.
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
She was dating a bastard. Dave belittled her, found ways to put her down. Things hadn’t gotten physical, as far as King knew, but emotional abuse was no joke. King wished he could intervene, but she was a grown woman and could make her own decisions.
Even if they are shitty.
“I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you, too. Look, I gotta go to work, but can we talk this weekend?”
“Of course. Give me a call anytime.”
“I will.”
“I mean it. Day or night.”
“Okay, Tommy.” She still called him by his childhood name. “Bye.” And then she hung up.
“Was that your sister?” Zane asked.
“Yeah, she didn’t sound so hot.” King had confided in Zane about her troubles. Back in their SEAL days, she’d bunked with him a few months until she’d found her own place, so Zane knew her.
“She’s not ready to leave him yet?” There was a tightness in Zane’s voice.
“If she was, I’d be at her place tonight with a U-Haul.” Whenever he’d tried to have a conversation with her about Dave, she changed the topic.
“It’s tough. There’s nothin’ you can do until she’s ready.” King had told his brothers what was going on. He wanted their advice on the matter.
“I know, and it sucks.” On average, it takes a woman seven times to leave an abusive partner. It was so damn frustrating.
After handing a plate to Zane, King sat down and shoveled the food into his mouth, chewing silently, trying to shake off this funk.
It wasn’t working.
Mackenzie Pierce, Mack for short, walked into the kitchen with a blue velvet box in her hand. She didn’t glance at them as she grabbed some cottage cheese and cantaloupe from the fridge, evidently lost in her own thoughts.
They all exchanged glances but didn’t say anything.
Mack was thirty-one years old with curly red hair, a snub nose, and wide-spaced blue eyes. A light dusting of freckles dotted her face. Mack was a strange name for a woman who was just over five feet, but it suited her.
For what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. She could handle men twice or three times her size. Mack was a former FBI hostage negotiator, and only a fool would mess with her.
Zane nudged King and widened his eyes.
King sighed. Fine. “Whatcha got there, Mack?”
“Huh?” She blinked, as though noticing them for the first time. “Right, the box.” Mack sat beside King and opened it to reveal a swanky leather watch.
He pointed. “Are those—”
“Diamonds? Yeah. It’s from Hermès.”
The watch face was encrusted with a ring of them. King had never seen so much bling in his life.
“Holy shit. Who bought it for you?” Zane leaned over to get a better look. Since the company was just starting out, she couldn’t have afforded such a luxury item. Their salaries were on the small side until they could pull in some more clients.
“Um yeah, about that.” Her cheeks went a hectic shade of red. “Remember the robber?”
Storm’s eyebrows backed up into his hairline. “John Doe? The one who got away from us?”
It was still a sore spot with the team. Along with the serial killer and the junkie, they’d found John Doe, but he’d taken a hostage, whom he later released. Presumably, he was somewhere in Canada.
“Bingo.” She snapped her fingers. “When I was trying to talk him into giving himself up, he asked me what I would buy, if I’d stolen the money, instead of him.” King, Zane, and Storm hadn’t been at the scene when he escaped, so they didn’t know the full story.
“Let me guess, you told him you’d buy that fancy pants watch?” King offered.
“Yep.”
“And then he got it for you?” Zane raised a brow.
Mack nodded. “Right again.”
Zane whistled. “Damn, girl, you should’ve asked for a Maserati.”
She laughed. “Let me be clear, I didn’t ‘ask’ for anything. He up and bought it for me out of the blue.”
“Because he’s sweet on you.” King couldn’t find any other reasonable explanation.
Mack shook her head. “No, he’s messing with us.”
“No, this isn’t how some criminal sticks it to law enforcement.” Storm pointed to the watch. “He wanted to impress you.”
Mack folded her arms across her chest. “Anyway, I thought I could get some clues from it, but the watch came by messenger, so there’s no shipping address to track down, and he paid in cash, too.”
“Dammit,” Zane said. “I’m guessin’ he used a fake name, too.”
She nodded.
No one new Doe’s real name anyway. The FBI was forced to charge him under the alias because he’d refused to give them his real name. According to records, they’d interrogated him for days, but he never blinked. In other words, he was one tough customer, and his interest in Mack was troubling to say the least.
“So, what are you gonna do with it?” King asked.
She swallowed. “I guess I have to turn it into the FBI. The watch is evidence, isn’t it?”
Zane snorted. “Fuck that. I say you keep it, or better yet, sell it. Use the money to pay off some bills.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?” Storm asked.
“It’s engraved, too.”
“What’s it say?” King leaned over.
She showed King the back of the watch face. It read: Until Next Time.
“Woah.”
“Yeah. Clearly, he plans on seeing me again.” She bit her lower lip.
And from what he gathered, Mack wasn’t discomforted by the fact. If anything, she was looking forward to another encounter. Maybe it’s the whole lure of the bad boy thing. King had never understood it.
Why go for a bad boy, when you could have a decent man?
While King doubted Doe meant her any harm, having a dangerous felon romantically interested in you never worked out.
She ran her thumb over the leather strap. “Damn, it’s smooth, like butter.”
“Have you tried it on yet?” Storm asked.
“No, of course not.” She snapped the case shut. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We don’t have the funds to track him down.”
“I don’t think we need to. If we play our cards right, he’ll come to us, well, to you anyway.” Storm pointed at her.
“I didn’t ask him to send me a gift.”
King held up his hands. “No one here is sayin’ you did.”
“Yeah, easy there. It ain’t your fault,” Zane chimed in.
Mack tucked the box into her pocket. “Anyway, I should get going. I have a lot on my plate today.” And then she headed up the stairs, ending the conversation.
King shook his head sadly, watching her go. “Yeah, that’s gonna end well.”
“Think we should do something?” Storm asked.
“Nope, it ain’t our business. Besides, she’s a big girl and can take care of herself.”
King would stay in his own lane on this one, and not get involved. It wasn’t like he was her brother or her boyfriend.
After he finished eating, King headed into the living room. Zane went upstairs to get ready, and Storm grabbed his laptop and took a seat in the meeting room.
King ordered Google Home to turn on the TV. They had a massive flat screen television which took up a large portion of one wall. Storm, their technology guru, had outfitted HQ with smart speakers, among other toys.
He flipped through the channels, until he found the news, and half-listened as the reporter droned on about the stock market. But King nearly choked when a headline flashed across the bottom of the screen.
Singer, Savannah Summers, injured in an attack.
After thumbing up the volume, he leaned forward, listening intently as the anchorman spoke.
“According to the hospital spokesperson, her injuries were minor, and she is expected to make a full recovery. However, one of her backup singers is dead. The country music star has canceled the European leg of her world tour and is reportedly heading home to the United States. Her publicist has declined to answer questions about the incident. Instead, she read a written statement, saying Summers will be resting and recovering with her loved ones.”
Meaning she was headed to Kentucky? Her momma lived in the area, and Savvy had a house near her.
The reporter moved on to another news segment, and King frantically flicked through channels, seeking more details, but they were frustratingly few and far between. He grabbed his phone and checked Savvy’s social media accounts, looking for updates, but all he found was well wishes from her fans. He posted one himself before he tossed the phone down with disgust.
Saying he was a fan, was something of an understatement. Savvy meant a great deal to him, and since her security team had failed her, maybe she was in the market for a new bodyguard?
Like, say, somebody from Black Star Security?
Savvy wouldn’t have gotten hurt on his watch, that’s for damn sure.
Bellowing for West, King took the stairs two at a time. They had to contact her manager and offer their services.
No, offer his services.
***
“They won’t hire us. We’ve only been operatin’ a few months.”
A half an hour later, King and Jackson West, the head of their firm, sat in the meeting room.
It was an eye-catching place. There were three brick walls, and one large floor to ceiling window, with a breathtaking view of the woods behind the property.
In the center of the room, stood a farmer’s table surrounded by several brown leather chairs. There were a series of framed posters on the wall, all of them featuring motivational sayings.
The only easy day was yesterday.
Don’t run to your death.
All in, all the time.
The last one meant a great deal to King. He never did anything by half measure. Whatever situation he was facing, King rolled up his sleeves and got the work done. He’d follow the same roadmap while protecting Savvy.
In the center was the Navy warfare special insignia—a golden eagle clutching a trident, an anchor, and a rifle. He and West had gone through BUD/S training together although they’d ended up on different SEAL teams.
They’d been stationed in Little Creek, Virginia afterward. When West had offered King a position, he’d only been too happy to turn in his resignation. King had wanted a job in the private sector for a long time.
“Yeah, but they definitely won’t give us a shot, if we sit here and do nothin’.” At the very least, it was worth a try.
West pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll make some calls and see what I can do, but I ain’t makin’ any promises.” West was also in his thirties, fit. He had short-cropped blond hair and sharp blue eyes.
Why did he have to be so pessimistic?
“Don’t be so negative. The power of positive thought can change the world, brother.”
“Gee, thanks, Gandhi.”
King flipped him off. “When this goes through, the case is mine, and I’ll handle everything.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t count your chickens.” After firing off an email to his Nashville contact, West sat back in his chair, his brows drawing together. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a bit too excited.”
“Naw, I’m just enthusiastic about helpin’ her.”
King didn’t want anything to happen to Savvy, but he was excited about the opportunity to meet her in person. He’d gone to several of her concerts, and he’d downloaded all her music.
At one time, the songs had been a lifeline.
“The more I think about this, the more I realize it’s a terrible idea. If we get the contract, somebody else should take it.”
“Why the fuck would you go and say a thing like that?”
“Because you’re emotionally involved. I know how much you like Savvy.”
West is out of his ever-lovin' mind if he thinks I’ll let somebody else protect her.
“West this case is mine, brother.”
“I believe the title you’re lookin’ for here, is Chief.” He laid a palm on his chest. “I’m the boss here, not you.”
They called one another “brother” because they were a tightknit group, but West was technically in charge. They referred to him as “Chief,” as a term of respect.
“I’m gonna shoot your ass if you don’t let me do this. And, no, I’m not joking.”
“I rest my case.” West spread his hands. “You’re all over the place. What if somethin’ happens to her?” He sighed. “After your wife—”
“I don’t want to talk about Nicole.”
“You never do.”
“Will you drop it?”
West held up his hands in surrender. “Consider it dropped.”
“Thank you. Nothin’ will happen to Savvy, not while I’m by her side.” He squared his shoulders.
“Tell you what, Prince Charmin’, will discuss this after I find out if it’s even a possibility. Are we cool…?”
“Yeah, no hard feelings, brother, but this is happenin’, get on board.”
And then King stormed off.
“Was it somethin’ I said?” West called, after him.
***
“Seriously? You’re bringin’ the dog?”
“Remember our earlier conversation?” Zane drawled. “Think back. We were both in a gym, you were sweaty and out of breath…”
“This is gonna be a long car ride, isn’t it?”
Bomber was in the backseat of King’s gunmetal gray Jeep Wrangler, lying on a red blanket, chewing on a toy.
King shook his head in disgust.
Three hours had passed since he’d spoken with West, and he’d secured them a meeting with Savvy’s manager, Adam Campbell. West had wanted to come, but he’d gotten involved in another case this morning. King hadn’t caught any of the details on his way out the door, but apparently, it was a big deal. In fact, the rest of the team was working on it. Unfortunately, he’d sent Zane with King, which sucked big time, because he didn’t need a babysitter.
“Why are you riled about the dog? Do you think she’ll mind?”
“Actually, Savvy loves dogs. As a kid, she had a Scottish Terrier named Angus, but he was run over by a car when she was sixteen, and she was devastated. Since then—”
“Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“You know her childhood pet’s name.”
King rubbed the back of his neck. “So, sue me, I remember details.”
“No, you’re basically a stalker, and she’s your internet girlfriend.” Zane snickered.
“I don’t know why West sent you with me in the first place, I can handle this on my own.” King gripped the steering wheel, to keep from decking Zane.
“West didn’t think so. By the way, he wanted me to remind you to be a professional. We don’t have a reputation in the industry yet. If you fuck this up, we won’t get another shot in Nashville.”
“I’m aware of the stakes, thank you very much.”
West had to call in three favors even to get this meeting. It was by no means a guarantee they’d get the job. He’d had to contact a friend, of a friend, and so on. Apparently, one of his old Navy buddies worked at a studio.
“He also gave me some rules, assumin’ we get this gig. Number one, don’t get her killed.”
“I ain’t plannin’ on it.”
“Number two, don’t screw around with her, even if she bat’s her lashes at you.”
She was country music royalty. As if she’d give me a second thought.
“Don’t worry. Neither one of those is a problem for me.”
“Are you gonna ask her to take a selfie with you?”
“No.”
“Ask her to sign your butt cheek?”
“No!”
“Make her autograph all the magazine pictures of her you tucked into your sock drawer?”
“How did you…shut up.”
“Hey, no worries, big guy.” Zane slapped him on the shoulder. “I won’t tell her.”
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll pull over and punch you in the throat.”
Zane cackled, pleased he’d gotten under King’s skin.
Later, they pulled up in front of Savvy’s mother’s house.
They’d gotten the directions from her manager after he’d faxed them a nondisclosure agreement to sign. The brick house was set back on three acres of property, and it was fenced in, but there were no other fortifications King could see.
“This place is gonna be a bitch to protect,” Zane said.
“Tell me about it.”
The house was surrounded by woods on three sides, where anyone can be hiding. A sniper could get in and out without anyone noticing. It wasn’t even on high ground where they’d have a vantage point.
“She needs to leave.” King couldn’t protect her, not under these conditions.
“You think some spoiled celebrity is gonna do what we tell them to?”
“Savvy ain’t spoiled.”
“How do you know? You’ve never even met her, King.”
“She seems nice.”
Zane made a face. “Oh, Jesus. You’re gonna swoon, aren’t you?”
He pulled back a fist. “Is it throat punchin’ time?”
“You’re so full of shit, it ain’t even funny.” Evidently, Zane wasn’t buying it.
King leaned closer. “Say that again.”
“Easy now.” Zane hopped out, tugged on Bomber’s leash and headed for the front door. “Come on, Lover Boy, let’s go meet your sweetheart.”
Gritting his teeth, King followed.
After they showed some identification, they were waved in by a couple of bodyguards. After heading down a long hallway, they arrived in a living room. Like the outside indicated, the place was nice—a leather sectional sofa, large screen television, and a couple of oak end tables, but nothing particularly fancy.
Three more bodyguards, a man in an expensive suit with a redhead on his arm, and then finally Savvy filed into the room.
King sucked in a breath, as his gaze fixed on Savvy.
She was even more beautiful in person—tousled blond hair, big blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and she wore a V neck black shirt and a pair of jeans which showcased her curves. And while she looked fantastic, Savvy was quiet, eyes fixed on the floor, oblivious to her surroundings.
Clearly, she was disturbed by the incident.
His heart went out to her. King knew exactly how she felt. Watching someone, you care for die right in front of you was devastating.
“I’m Adam Campbell,” said the man with the snazzy suit. “And this is my fiancé, Emerald Price.” The redhead waved. “And of course, you know Savannah Summers.” Adam gestured to her, but Savvy wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t bother introducing the guards.
“Pleased to meet ya.” King shook Adam’s hand, and so did Zane.
“You’re with Black Star Security, correct?”
“Right. I’m Quentin Zane, and this is Thomas King.” Zane pointed to King. “We prefer to go by our last names.”
He glanced at his phone. “Your boss, Jackson West, used to work with Earl Blake, right?”
“Yup,” King said. “And Mr. Blake used to provide security for Callie Carter.” She’d been the opening act for a couple of big country stars.
“And you were both Navy SEALs?” Adam squinted at them, as though unimpressed.
“Once a SEAL, always a SEAL,” King said.
“How does this work? You’d take turns protectin’ Savvy?”
“Yes,” King said, although, he’d rather be on a solo mission. “If you hire us, we will divide guard duty into two twelve-hour shifts.
Savvy still wasn’t paying attention.
Adam nodded. “I assume you’ve seen the news and know what we're up against?”
“Yeah, several times. He’s her number one fan.” Zane elbowed King.
King smiled broadly like nothing was wrong. But later, there would be an epic ass-kicking, especially if he didn’t get this job because of Zane’s big mouth.
Adam frowned.
Savvy glanced up but said nothing.
Time for damage control.
“Yes, I enjoy her music.”
Enjoy was such an unenthusiastic term. However, he didn’t want to appear unhinged, so he held back.
Adam shook his head. “Look, I appreciate you drivin’ all the way out here, but I took this meetin’ as a courtesy. While we appreciate the offer, as you can see, we’ve got her security needs covered.”
He gestured to the bodyguards behind him. They were dressed in jeans and black shirts, as though it were a uniform. And yet they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, mentally tuning out. Dumbasses like these could get her killed.
“Do you now?” King glanced at Zane who smirked. “Do any of them have military experience?”
Adam turned to the men. “Have any of you served?”
The men shook their heads and shrugged.
As King suspected, they were glorified roadies—burly men who’d been elevated from moving sound equipment to guarding the talent. It took more than strength to protect a potential target from an assassin.
“We can give you a demonstration if you like?” Zane offered. “You might find it illuminatin’.”
Adam frowned. “No, I don’t think it will be necessary.”
“Let them show us,” Savvy said softly. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Savvy, I don’t think we need—”
“Who’s payin’ the bill?” Savvy asked tiredly. “And, more importantly, whose life is on the line?”
Upon closer inspection, she looked exhausted. King had been too overwhelmed by her beauty at first, to notice. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
Adam sighed. “Fine, have it your way.”
The tension between them was palpable, and King wondered what was going on. Well, he wouldn’t get the chance to find out, if he didn’t put on a show.
“Okay then. Give me your best shot.” He walked to the center of the room and held out his arms.
The bodyguards didn’t approach.
“Don’t you want your little friend to join us?” said the biggest one, a bald man in his forties with veins straining in his neck. He stepped forward.
“Hey! Who the hell are you callin’ little?” Zane asked.
The bald dude was the biggest threat. King was an inch or two taller, but the man weighed a bit more. And King had a good seventy pounds and several inches on the rest of them.
King chuckled. “Nah, I can handle this one on my own.” It wouldn’t even be much of a challenge. “But you can bring your friends if you like.”
Baldy’s buddies gathered around King, surrounding him on all sides, but it didn’t make him nervous. Baldy pulled back a fist, but King kicked him right in the nut sack.
“Ugh,” Baldy mumbled as he went down like a sack of potatoes, holding his bruised junk with both hands.
“Sorry, man. I wore my steel-toed boots today. That’s gotta hurt.”
Grunting, the man stood and lunged at King, but he popped Baldy in the mouth, and he fell back to the floor.
“Who’s next?”
The one directly behind King wrapped him in a bear hug, but King donkey kicked him and sent the dude sprawling on his ass.
Zane gave him a round of applause.
King spun around to punch the one on his left. And when King lunged for the bodyguard on his right, the man backed off with his hands in the air.
“Don’t hurt me, man!”
It took him all of three minutes to neutralize her so-called bodyguards.
I rest my fuckin’ case. King smirked.
And then Savvy met King’s gaze, really seeing him for the first time. It was like being blinded by the sun, a shining moment of joy. For a moment, King was almost speechless, stunned into silence.
“When can you start?” Savvy asked.
“Right now.”