Chapter Eighteen

Leo frowned at the computer screen. “This guy here, Alexey? How do we know him?”

Her small teeth chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t remember that name. What’s he done?”

They’d spent the previous day combing through the information Claymore had sent, and started back at it first thing that morning, but by noon, they were struggling to integrate the new data with Prue’s research. The web of connections overwhelmed.

With a defeated sigh, Leo tossed the notebook on the coffee table as his latest attempt to map the network of players once again trailed off the page.

“He and King met last year.” On his feet, Leo pointed at the computer. “Keep reading. I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen, he rummaged through drawers until he found a pad of tattered Post-it Notes. Back at the sofa, he scrawled each name from his notebook onto a separate Post-it, then crossed to the wall on the opposite side of the room and began arranging the notes. Soon, yellow squares plastered the white wall.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Prue gaping at his handiwork. “That is so hot,” she said.

A smile on his face, he surveyed the arrangement of notes as she came to stand beside him. For the next hour, they worked together, adding names and events and linking them with lines he drew in pencil directly on the wall. He needed to paint eventually anyway.

When her stomach let loose with an angry growl, they took a break to make dinner. He started the grill while she prepared the potatoes and cut up some vegetables. Food cooking, he left her lounging in the hammock and slipped inside to clean the tongs that he’d dropped in the sand.

As he headed back to the patio doors, the chime of his cell phone drew him to the coffee table.

Claymore’s number displayed on the phone’s screen, and he accepted the call.

“Hey, man. Thanks for the information. I don’t want to know how you got your hands on so much so fast.”

Claymore’s deep chuckle had a sinister ring to it. “I’m about to send you the rest of it.” He hesitated. “There’s one file I wanted to explain to you, ear-to-ear, so to speak.”

“All right.” A frown pulled at Leo’s features. “What’ve you got?”

“It’s about Owen’s sister. How well do you know her?”

An image of Prue riding him, her breasts bouncing in his face, came screeching to his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well enough, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“There are some interesting rumors out there about her.”

Alarm rippled through him and he stole a glance outside to see Prue swaying gently in the hammock, her laptop propped open on her stomach. “What kind of rumors?”

“You know, the usual stuff—drug abuse, alcoholism, questions about her stability and sanity.”

Leo made a sound. “What? None of that is true.”

He knew what an alcoholic looked like, and she wasn’t it. Had he seen her drink at all? And questions about her sanity? Seriously? It might be the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“I assume it’s King and his bot army trying to sow doubt about her, but I wanted to get your take on it.” Claymore’s tone remained flat, as though he merely recited the daily brief to his commanding officer. “Though there does appear to be a history. I haven’t confirmed it yet, but a few years ago, she overdosed—or attempted suicide maybe…?”

The knot twisting Leo’s stomach wrenched. “It was accidental. She mixed a prescription with alcohol.”

“Ah, okay. King will probably seize on that to create a narrative. He’s already crying about harassment. Says she’s unstable and obsessed with him, has been for years.”

“He’s scared shitless, isn’t he?”

“It certainly smells like it. He’s also threatening to sue her.”

Leo exploded. “For what?”

“Who knows? I think defamation was the latest charge floating around the internet.”

Curses fell from Leo’s lips. “I didn’t think her Twitter following was that big.”

At that, Claymore snickered. “The point is to scare her, use his endless stack of dirty money to bankrupt her and generally make her life miserable. There’s really no downside for him.”

“He’s going to file all these lawsuits from halfway around the world?” Leo’s gut churned with anger and dread.

“He arrived in the US two days ago.”

Leo stilled. “Can you track him?”

“I’m looking at him right now.”

“Where are you?”

“DC.”

“Let me know if he moves?”

“You got it.”

Leo disconnected the call and went outside to check the food on the grill. In the hammock, Prue’s fingers toyed with the end of her loose braid while she stared off into space. By now, he recognized her dreamy expression and knew she worked away at one of the puzzles in her mind.

For a moment, he stared, struck by the beauty of her dainty features and the sensual promise of her long, tanned legs and smooth, bare shoulder, left exposed by her T-shirt’s wide collar.

As he tended to the food, his cell phone vibrated against his hip. He closed the lid to the grill and retrieved Claymore’s message. Monitoring the hammock out of the corner of his eye, he sifted through the new batch of files until he located the document titled “P.Lockhart.”

He dragged and dropped it into the junk folder.

When he approached Prue, she remained lost in her thoughts, so he reached out and tapped his finger lightly on her nose.

Her eyes fluttered and a warm blush heated her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

Unable to resist the sweet bloom of her mouth, he bent down and kissed her. She tasted good, familiar, and the overpowering heat of her response singed him. He could kiss her like this forever and never grow tired of it.

With an aching reluctance, he pulled back. Big blue eyes ate him up and at the lustful yearning in them, one corner of his mouth lifted. She was lovely and passionate, and completely sane. If he was wrong, well then he’d happily drink of her madness.

Her fingers touched the side of his face. “What is it?”

“Claymore sent the rest of the files.”

She sputtered and scrambled out of the hammock.

Inside, he sat on the sofa while she positioned her laptop in front of him. Connecting his phone to the computer, he transferred the files.

All except one.

He opened the first document, then stood. “I’ve got to get the food off the grill.”

She scooched into the spot he’d vacated on the couch. When he returned with their overloaded plates of food, setting them on the coffee table while he skirted around to sit beside her, she leaned close to the computer. He pulled his plate onto his lap and started to read over her shoulder.

Just then, she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

“What?’ He swallowed his bite of potato, only half-chewed. “What is it?”

“He’s a traitor.”

“What?” Leo set down his plate and slanted closer to the computer.

She surged to her feet. “He’s selling weapons to known terrorist groups.” Her hands sliced wildly through the air as she spoke. “Terrorists who kill innocent people. Who—who—who fight American soldiers.”

She exhibited none of the devastation from the previous day, when they learned about King’s human trafficking crimes. Today she was simply pure, pissed-off female.

And it was glorious.

He settled back in the cushions with his dinner plate and, feet propped on the coffee table, prepared to witness the full force of her outrage. Arlo, who’d been sleeping on the sofa back, lifted his head to watch with him.

Before them, she paced. “That lying, no good, low-life traitor.” She whirled on him. “Omigod, Leo, he’s a traitor.”

“I don’t know the legal definition….”

She turned on her heel and resumed pacing. “Are all private military contractors turncoat mercenaries?”

“No. Most are patriots. Retired or former military, good at what they do, willing to risk their lives to get the job done. Aron King gives them all a bad rep.”

“He was a SEAL, wasn’t he? How does he go from the highest levels of our military to fighting against them? My God, he’s arming the enemy.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Leo said. “Guys who feel slighted or betrayed by their country sometimes switch sides.”

She stumbled to a stop. “He feels betrayed? What the hell did we do to him?”

“Our government put him on trial for war crimes.”

A frustrated growl vibrated in her throat. “I can’t believe I let that man touch me. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Stop that.”

Her eyes touched his face with an unbearable softness. “Thank God I met you again. If I’d died having only ever slept with that pig, I’d be so disappointed.”

The laugh that trickled from him sounded rusty from lack of use.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

He slid his plate onto the coffee table and stood. “For starters, we need to gather more facts.”

A soft groan escaped her and she bit her lip. “You are so sexy when you talk like that.”

How could it be that he was laughing? Their situation was growing more serious by the minute, and he had no idea how or even if he could keep her safe and unharmed.

Until this moment, the threat had been an indistinct, if undeniably dangerous foe. Now he knew what hunted Prue. What remained to be known was how far Aron King was willing to go to silence her.

The Fear crouched in the shadows, ready to pounce. Since he’d left Blackstone four years ago, he hadn’t been able to control it, and operated under no illusions he’d be able to do so now. When it struck, he’d be on his ass in a flash and useless to help her.

Rather than sit around and wait for something bad to happen, he needed to be proactive. He needed a plan. He needed information.

He needed backup.

“I’ve got to go out for a bit,” he said.

Fear flashed in her blue eyes. “Okay,” she said warily.

“You, uh, want to come with me?”

Surprise flitted across her face. “Where are you going?”

“To my brother’s place.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly. “Is he going to help us?”

“They, and I hope so.” He gritted his teeth. “Luke is in law enforcement, and I have some legal questions for Shea.”

“Luke and Shea?” She tried out their names. “Shea is a lawyer?”

“Last I knew.”

“What are your other brothers’ names?”

Dread gnawed at him. He didn’t share personal details about his life with others. Ever.

Until now, apparently.

Inevitability settled on his shoulders. “Jack and Noah.”

“Noah. How could I forget him?” A teasing smile played on her heart-shaped mouth.

While she slipped into her bedroom to change, he tried to shake off his unease. What would it hurt to talk to them? It didn’t mean he’d become attached to them, or them to him.

If there was a chance his brothers might be able to help him keep Prue safe, then it was worth the risk.