First Nolan Mason. Now The Edge. The spec ops world was a small one, but Ethan didn’t realize how much so until a few hours ago when he’d heard Jacob reference the Quillery Edge.

He wasn’t sure what to think about their paths crossing once again, so he packed the thought away to focus on another time. For now, he was single-mindedly determined to make Mari’s world safer.

The first step in that mission was her statement about the break-in and assault. He squeezed her hand as they followed Detective Raul Rodriguez into a small room with a sofa along one wall and a chair on the other. A camera pointed down at the two seating places.

“I’d rather you step outside, wait for Ms. Santos there. We have coffee around the corner in a breakroom,” Detective Rodriguez commented.

“I’d rather he stay,” Mari replied quickly.

Ethan’s protective instincts ratcheted up a couple notches when she squeezed his hand harder. He sat beside her on the sofa and dared the detective to do anything about it. If she wanted him there, he wasn’t leaving.

The detective’s lips quirked up in a grin. “Tex said you were stubborn.”

Ethan didn’t offer comment. Just because he knew Tex didn’t make him good people, it just made him smart.

“I’m going to share a couple things with you, Ms. Santos, because I feel it’s important we start our relationship off on the right foot.” The detective motioned toward the cameras. “A couple acquaintances of mine are working with the Internal Affairs Division to investigate your ex-husband. I’ve been asked to facilitate information gathering from you on their behalf.”

Holy crap.

“It’s unfortunate my presence here is because you suffered yet another incident. I assure you as far as my acquaintances and I are concerned, it’ll be the last.” Detective Rodriguez looked at Ethan. “From what Tex has told me, your operation is the best around. I agree. We’ve heard a lot of great things about Counterstrike. Hell, a lot of the cases I’ve worked have crossed your path at one point or another.”

“I’m not here because of last night.” Mari tensed against Ethan. Her voice was low, pained. “You don’t care about last night.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around her and wished he could take away her pain, undo what’d happened to put it there. She trembled but relaxed within his hold.

“I am most certainly taking a statement about last night’s attack, Ms. Santos. I do care, more than you’ll likely ever know. No one gets by with hurting anyone on my watch.” The detective leaned forward. “But this isn’t the first time you’ve had trouble. I’ve looked into your previous incidents. Things are escalating. It’s time someone got to the root of the real problem and dug it out of your life. It’ll be my pleasure helping that happen. So in that respect, I’m not focused on last night. I’m focused on why it happened in the first place. That’s why you’re here.”

“W-what do I need to do?”

“Take a deep breath,” the man advised. “We’ll start at the beginning whenever you’re ready.”

Ethan sat back and studied the man a moment. Pieces clicked together in his head. “I’m thinking Tex didn’t wait for my say to get a certain friend of ours in the Texas Rangers activated.”

Raul’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation, but I can assure you all pertinent outside agencies have been in contact with the Internal Affairs Division and the investigation is being taken very seriously.”

Ethan and Milo had met Daxton Chambers a couple months after starting Counterstrike, when their first client’s troubles necessitated Tex’s involvement. Chambers, along with a couple buddies of his from the San Antonio Police Department had helped get their client’s mother secure when a drug dealer had threatened her life.

Daxton Chambers was one hell of an officer, as was all the others he’d met through Tex. The fact they were a short trip down Interstate 35 in San Antonio was reassuring. He’d intended to phone Dax, get his input on how best to proceed with this situation once he got a firmer grasp on the details.

Clearly things were progressing faster than Ethan expected, likely because of the whirlwind known as Zoey who’d entered the situation. Tex’s friend was a touch strange, but Ethan couldn’t deny that she, Gage, Jacob and Jud had gotten to work immediately.

His mind wandered to Nolan Mason, but Ethan shoved the thoughts aside. Everything else would have to wait until he got Mari secured. All that mattered right now was helping her through giving her statement.

Mari swallowed the unease rising in her throat as Ethan navigated his massive truck into a narrow parking spot of the unpaved parking lot. She stared at the green dumpster beside the vehicle as her heart thudded in her chest.

Her gaze swept upward until it rested on the small eatery in a small out-of-the-way pocket of East Austin. Hank’s was a downhome style restaurant that was more of a local watering hole for cops, firefighters and every other assortment of first responders than anything else.

“Why are we here?” She forced the words out even though she already knew the answer.

“Look at me, Mari.” Ethan’s firm voice drew her focus.

She blinked, turned her head and tumbled into the light cinnamon-swirled gaze. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“He’s done messing with you,” Ethan declared. “We walk in there, your face looking like a punching bag, everyone in his crew will get wind of what went down. You do it with me and my crew at your back, they’ll know things have changed.”

She swallowed. Shame kept her silent. He made it sound so simple. Maybe for him it was. She’d tried. She’d fought, both inside and outside court for so long. It wasn’t like she wasn’t prepared to go another twenty rounds with Chester, because she was. She just wasn’t an in-your-face style fighter.

“We’re sending a message, a warning to everyone in blue to either do the right thing, or stay the hell out of our way while we take out the trash,” Ethan continued. “You’re what matters in this situation, Mari. If you aren’t ready to walk in there, then we’ll go back to the house.”

The offer was sweet, but the firm set to Ethan’s jaw as his gaze slid over to the entrance of Hank’s spoke volumes. And he was right. Walking in there with her face bruising from the latest episode of her Chester nightmare was the right move, even if it felt like the most terrifying thing she’d ever done.

For the first time in a long while she’d left a police station feeling safe. Detective Rodriguez had been professional, kind and considerate. He’d been patient. He’d let her stop and take a break whenever she wanted, which she’d done more than once. Composing herself in the bathroom gave her small breaks from the intensity within the room, which had spiked incrementally as she offered more insight into what all she’d endured since the divorce proceedings began.

The questions had been intense, pointed and very embarrassing in so many ways, but she’d passed the point of worrying about what people thought about her long ago. She had very few, if any, real friends. They’d vacated her life like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

A couple of them called periodically, but the infrequent visits felt more like an interrogation than a friendly outing. It wasn’t until Christina’s last visit that she’d finally accepted what was going on—they were trolling her for gossip. The hell Mari endured was nothing more than fodder for their little clique of friends.

And most of Chester’s friends were cops, who drank and hung out at Hank’s.

Her stomach churned.

“Mari.” Ethan caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. The slow, methodical strokes dragged her away from the riotous what-ifs running amuck in her brain.

The thoughts slowed, her focus narrowed to the gentle glide across her skin. She focused on discerning the languid patterns he formed.

M. Her pulse quickened, not from fear, but awareness.

A. Gods, the man was lethal to her senses.

R. A gasp escaped her as she shifted her gaze to his face. A slow grin spread across his handsome face. She swallowed.

Ethan’s thumb froze at the seam of her lips, right at the edge. She licked her lips, watched his gaze track the swipe of her tongue. Heat spiraled through her as his thumb swept across her lower cheek, then halfway back and up. Her heart thudded in her chest. Breath held, she anticipated the stroke left across her upper cheek.

But he went right as the lazy grin on his face deepened to a knowing smile she felt clear to her toes. Left, all the way, and then back to the right where she’d expected.

I.

Ethan leaned in until his hot breath feathered across the cheek he’d just spelled her name out on. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

Heat crawled through her as she obeyed and peered into his intense gaze. For the first time in a long, long while she wasn’t the ex-wife of an abusive cop. She wasn’t a hopeless debtor in over her head.

Vanilla mingled with pine when she inhaled deep. The scent permeated her nostrils, infused with the heat radiating from Ethan. She reached out and stroked his face where he’d touched her.

“They can’t touch you, Mari. You hold the power, and whatever they do will bounce right off you as long as you remember you are not alone. You are not the cause, the blame, or the guilty party in this.”

“I’m the victim,” she whispered.

“Victim is not in your vocabulary. Ever. No woman who takes on the fight you’ve waged is anything but a victor. A survivor.” He caressed her other cheek. “They can’t touch you, Mari, because the second they try, I’ll make them wish they were never born.”

As if sensing she couldn’t find the words to respond, he continued. “So will everyone in there waiting for us. This is a statement, but you aren’t the only one making it.”

Her eyes burned as she pulled back enough to look into his eyes again. “I won’t ever be able to repay Tex for bringing you into my life. For the first time since this started, I’m starting to think I might be close to the other side.”

“You’re still in deep, but you aren’t alone. We’ll get you to the other side,” he promised. “We’d better get inside before I do something Milo and Jen would kick my ass for.”

Awareness beaded along her skin. He felt the attraction, too? She nodded her head as she forced the thought aside. She had enough on her plate without adding a new relationship into the mix. No way in hell could she put anyone in Chester’s crosshairs by dating him.

Ethan could handle Chester easily enough more than likely, but Mari didn’t want to stir up any more trouble. She had nothing to offer a man like Ethan Davenport. She was in debt up to her eyeballs, and so far from dating material it wasn’t funny.

Which meant she needed to get the heck out of his truck before she did something impulsive. She licked her lips, savoring the shot of awareness when he did the same with his.

“Wait until I come around to get out,” he said.

Then he was out of the truck fast enough to leave her mind reeling. She gave herself a moment to accept the fact she was about to walk into Hank’s and have a beer and a meal like it wasn’t a cop hangout, like she hadn’t done their entire world wrong by divorcing one of theirs.

Her face throbbed where she’d been punched. The achy reminder was exactly what she needed to keep her centered on the task at hand—standing her ground.

She unbuckled her seatbelt as Ethan opened the door. He gripped her hips firmly when she turned around. A startled gasp escaped her when he lifted her out of the truck like it wasn’t a big deal. She weighed a good thirty pounds more than she should, if not more.

Mortification heated her cheeks as she averted her gaze away from him. A man like him definitely deserved more than a frumpy, disheveled, fat ex-wife of an asshole cop. She clutched the thought firmly as he put his arm around her and pressed her fully against his side until the heat wafting from his body seeped into her.

Protected.

She clung to the sensation until the tremble in her hands lessened. Ethan wasn’t going to let them mess with her. And, really…

What more could they do?

Country music played softly in the background, the distinctive twang barely discernible above the buzz of conversations echoing within the small restaurant. A long L-shaped bar took up the entire right side.

Ethan angled them to the left and into the thick of the eatery like he’d been there a thousand times. An older gentleman stepped into their path. Hank.

Mari had met the man plenty of times when she’d been with Chester. Time hadn’t been good to him the last few months. His hair was more salt than pepper now, and more wrinkles creased his brow. Large bags sagged beneath his eyes, eyes which always seemed to pierce straight into her.

“Hank,” she said by way of greeting.

“Whatever your play is, it’s not smart. You’d best turn around and head on home, Marisol. This is a hornet’s nest you don’t want to be kicking.”

“She won’t be the one kicking,” Ethan declared.

“What business is it of yours, Davenport?” Hank asked. “You and your brother have my respect. We soldiers stick together, no matter what. But this mess with her and Chester has no business airing itself in my place.”

“I’m thinking you know it’s past time the truth aired itself where Marisol is concerned,” Ethan said. “He’s done messing with her unless he wants to take on Counterstrike.”

“He’s a good man,” Hank argued.

A part of Mari locked down with the gritty determination radiating in the man’s voice. Why couldn’t anyone else see the monster behind the mask?

“Is that so?” Ethan edged closer. “You and I’ve dug up our bones over beers together enough for me to respect you, Hank. The things you did, the sacrifices you made. You’ve earned my respect. And my brother’s. You bleed red, white and blue just like we do. Don’t let that blue choke out your brain.”

Hank’s gaze swept toward Mari and pinned her, much like a bug on a pin. Although she wanted to cower behind Ethan’s body, she stood her ground at his side. Established eye contact with the man and waited as the silence ticked by.

An uncomfortable hush fell over the interior, but Mari ignored it and kept her attention on Hank. His stubble-covered jaw moved a couple times before he spoke.

“He do that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Someone broke into my place, attacked me. Third break-in since the divorce.”

“Girl, that place isn’t safe,” the man admonished. “Seems like you would’ve learned that after the first break-in. Didn’t your momma give you any sense?”

“Yeah, she did, which was why I moved out of the first apartment into another after the first break-in. And again after the second. I’m done running,” she said.

“You need a man in your life and in your bed. No one would mess with you if you had a man,” Hank said.

“I’m still drowning from the last one. I’m not about to weigh myself down with another.”

“Is that so?” Hank chuckled. “I’m thinking Davenport here might be disagreeing. He’s mighty protective of you.”

“Good men like him don’t sit on their ass drinking beers and ignoring women getting beaten and terrified by their asshole exes that can’t move the hell on.” She let her voice rise as she spoke so everyone could hear what she said. Ethan was right.

It was time to make a stand.

“Nothing he ever did was good enough for you. Don’t think I’ll sit here and let you trash talk him.” A chair scraped.

Mari’s gaze swept toward the sound, but she couldn’t see the speaker as three tables of people rose between her and the speaker. She gulped at the mountain of muscle. She recognized Milo and Gage, but there were at least twenty more. They took up the entire center of the restaurant.

Mari closed the distance between herself and the speaker. Ethan grabbed at her arm, but she was focused on her quarry. Of course. Roger Hamits. He was in the same division as Chester. Likely he’d had more than a few bullshit stories fed to him.

“You’re right, Roger.” She waited for her statement to settle in the room. “Nothing he ever did was good enough for me. I guess I should’ve been okay with getting hit so hard I got a concussion, all because he chose to come here and hang out with you all for two hours and didn’t tell me. How dare I not accept that and let dinner burn. Burned chicken parmesan’s deserving of a concussion, huh?”

“That was self-defense,” Roger argued. “You came at him first.”

“Oh?” She crossed her arms and let the anger take over. Jen was right. Anger was an awesome starting point to a new front on this war. “So an armed detective, one of Austin’s finest, has no recourse against a five-foot-two, unarmed woman but to batter her to the point of a concussion? Repeatedly?”

She let that statement thunder through the room a moment, then continued. “Fine. I’ll give you that. I suppose I deserved what I got for not being a perfect, mind-reading chef. That’s sarcasm by the way, Roger. I’m not sure if you and everyone else in here gets that, so I’ll be really clear. I was not okay with him beating me when dinner got cold while he was drinking away his paycheck in this dump.”

The man’s face reddened. Someone behind her chuckled.

“Oh, and I was definitely not okay with him doing our neighbor,” she admitted. “In our bed. That earned me a couple punches, too, because I dared to come home early. I guess I should’ve been okay with that, too, huh?”

Anger churned into rage as she took a step forward and continued her verbal assault on Chester’s friend. She was tired of cowering around them. “You disgust me, Roger. Every last one of you so-called protectors of the innocent. You’re nothing but hypocritical, sanctimonious sacks of shit as far as I’m concerned because you’ll protect and serve as long as it serves your personal agenda. You think you’re above the law because as far as you’re concerned, you are the law.”

Roger put a hand on his belt. A growl rumbled from behind Mari, but she kept her focus on the asshole before her. He and all the others who’d ignored the hell she’d been enduring.

For years.

“Jud, no,” a female voice said. “This is a no-body-bag night. Ethan and his men have this covered.”

And they did. Mari took a deeper breath when she realized she wasn’t alone. More importantly, Roger knew. Which meant Chester would hear soon enough.

“He’s done messing with me, Roger,” Mari said. “I’ve swallowed enough of his bullshit while you and everyone else hired to protect people like me looked the other way. Or helped him. You’re all done messing with me.”

“Is that a threat?” Roger asked.

“It’s a warning I’d heed,” Ethan replied. “Mess with her and you mess with Counterstrike. Make sure your buddy gets the message.”

“I think this conversation’s over,” Hank declared. Arms crossed, he looked at Roger. “Sit down or get out.”

“She came in here to stir up trouble. I won’t have her or anyone else talking trash about Chester behind his back. None of us will.”

“Take a look around you,” Ethan advised. “You are the only one standing up having words with her.”

And he was. Mari’s gaze swept the restaurant. While everyone watched, no one else had added their presence to the discussion. Either they suddenly believed her story, or they didn’t want to mess with Ethan and the twelve other people standing around her. Emotion clogged her throat.

She hadn’t had people at her back in this fight since…ever. She turned and shifted her focus to the three tables of people who’d all stood and positioned themselves between her and Roger. All the men were tall, muscular, and not very pleased if the expressions on their faces were any indication.

No one moved to sit, not even after Roger skulked back to his booth along the back wall. She gulped. Now what?

“We good?” Ethan asked, his gaze locked on Hank, whose regard remained locked on Mari.

“Far from it. I’m thinking I got choked out by the blue a while back,” the man admitted. He looked at Ethan. “It won’t happen again. This is a safe haven, for her, or anyone else your crew’s helping. Whatever you need, whenever. Let me know.”

“Appreciated,” Milo said from Mari’s other side.

“Someone’ll be over to get your orders,” Hank said as he shuffled away.

Mari released the breath she hadn’t realized she held. Her agitated pulse beat its fury in her ears, but the knots in her stomach had loosened. Had she…

Had she actually won a skirmish in the war with her ex?

She honestly wasn’t sure. He wasn’t here, but he may as well have been. Hank’s was so filled with his buddies in blue the atmosphere was thick with tension. Even though no one had risen to take Roger’s back, they’d all been tuned to the confrontation. They’d heard.

And said nothing.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Ethan’s hot breath against her neck and his hand at her hip felt right. Good.

“Nothing,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t think it’d go that well.”

“It went well because of you, Mari. You stood your ground and gave them a heaping dose of truth, one so big it was likely hard to swallow,” Ethan said. “I’m proud of you. I know that wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.”

The reality of what she’d done seeped into her, an unwelcomed douse of unease. “He’ll react.”

When Ethan’s eyebrows lifted, she continued. “Chester. He’ll react.”

“Good. That’s what we want.”

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“And you don’t know what we’re capable of,” he returned. “Trust me and trust my guys. This isn’t your fight any longer. It’s ours, and we’ve fought worst assholes than Chester.”

They may have, but Ethan was wrong. “This is still my fight. You may have tagged in, but I’m still in it. I’m not cowering in the corner while you take over.”

Ethan ran a hand down her hair. Intensity reflected on his handsome face when he looked her in the eyes. “I’d never expect you to sit on the sidelines of your own battle, especially one you’ve fought so long, Mari. You’re one hell of a woman. I may not have known you for long, but I recognize the strength it’s taken to endure this as long as you have. And I admire the hell out of you. Just because we’ve tagged in doesn’t mean we expect you to tag out.”

“Good,” she replied, unsure what else there was to say.

“Let’s eat,” Milo said. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” one of the men said with a chuckle as he sat at the table.

Mari sat between Ethan and Milo and smiled as the gathered group bantered back and forth. Their ease with one another was apparent.

A team.

One now fighting for her.

She glanced across the table at the pink and purple-haired woman who wore a big grin on her face. Zoey. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” Mari said, a little wary because the woman was seriously intense.

“You stood your ground just now. That’s good. Guys like Ethan go from quiet to lethal in less than a second. You ever need advice on how to handle that, you give me a ring. My girls and I will help you out.”

“Stay out of her shit,” a man growled beside Zoey. She’s got enough troubles without you adding to it.”

The woman glared. “Careful, Jud. We still have zingers. I’ll knock you out again, teach you a few manners.”

“He’s right. She’s got enough on her plate without you dragging her into the fold,” Gage said.

“And exactly how would my dragging her into the fold add trouble?” The woman paused. Gage’s brows shot up. Her eyes widened. “Okay, never mind. I see your point.”

The man smirked and glanced at Mari. “She’s right, though. Whatever you need, whenever. The Arsenal will help. You and Counterstrike.”

“The Arsenal?” Mari asked.

“You’ll meet everyone tomorrow, or most everyone,” Jud said. “A hell of a group, but it looks like you’ve already got one behind you. Still, it never hurts to have another in queue in case shit hits the fan faster or harder than expected.”

“Tex has their back,” Zoey said. “But the lummox is right. Whatever you and your crew need, Ethan, we’ll help however we can. Tex is great, and I know Beth is, too, but Quillery, Edge and I are available. You and I will talk one-on-one before I leave.”

“Leave him be, Little Bit,” Gage suggested.

“It’s not any of your business,” the woman shot back.

“Like hell it isn’t. I was sent along with specific orders to keep you wrangled. Until we get back to the compound, you are my only business.”

Jud chuckled. “Good luck with that, man. I’m thinking my woman’s attitude is rubbing off on Z.”