Chapter 1
Prologue
Arriving at his destination, Monty Lytton parked his large, black SUV on the tree-lined street, due to the large number of cars in the driveway. He sat for a moment, looking at the comfortable homes in the neighborhood. Most were two-story colonials with few distinguishing differences. A few bicycles and swing sets littered across the lawns, in between snow-covered flowerbeds and trees.
His gaze landed on the house outside of his vehicle and his lips curved upward thinking of the family living there. A wisp of envy floated through him, while not desiring this exact scenario, he wondered what else might be out there for him. Smiling, he remembered the easy camaraderie and the fun times he enjoyed with the family residing inside.
Checking his appearance in the sun-visor mirror, he ran his hand through his dark hair, making sure it was neat. Not a fastidious man, he nonetheless maintained a professional appearance—perhaps from his time as an undercover FBI agent working in the State Capitol. Satisfied, he stepped down from his SUV, before twisting around to take out the brightly colored package. Walking toward the front door, he heard the sounds of screaming children and barely made it to the porch before the door flung open.
“Uncle Monty!” yelled the little girl dressed in a pink ballerina costume.
“Hey, baby girl,” he called, bending to scoop her up in his arms after quickly moving in from the cold and managing to set the package on the dining room table without dropping it. “How’s my favorite four-year-old niece?”
“No, no, not four anymore!” she squealed. “Today I’m five!”
A quick assessment of the dining room revealed an explosion of pink, purple, and teal. Streamers hung from the light fixture over the table to the edges of the ceiling. The colorful circus tent effect overwhelmed the senses. Princess placemats were set on the table along with plastic crowns at each chair.
He wondered if he had ever heard his niece speak softly, but laughed all the same. “No,” he pretended not to believe her. “You can’t be five!”
As he lowered her wiggling body back to the floor she saw the huge present, her eyes widening with glee.
“Is that for me?” she beamed.
“Are you the birthday girl?”
“Yes!” she screeched. “Then it must be for me! Thank you!” She scooted down the hall toward the den, her little arms waving above her head, still screaming, “Five, five, I’m five today.”
Looking up, he saw a lovely woman walk from the kitchen toward him. Her dark hair mirrored his own, but her smile was much easier. She did not stop until she walked completely into his arms, wrapping hers around him, squeezing as though she had not seen him in ages.
“How you holding up, Sis?” he asked, hugging her back.
She leaned back and looked into his blue eyes. “I’m fine.” She cocked her head toward the back of the house where the noise of the party blared. “I’ve got eight little five-year-old princesses back there with Bob and dad entertaining them. Mom’s in the kitchen trying to figure out how to get the ice cream into the packed freezer. I’ve got a pouty seven-year-old upstairs because he got fussed at for attempting to sneak a cupcake.”
“Wow,” he replied, honestly awed at his sister’s ability to handle such chaos. Growing up, their parents, often working on furthering their degrees, required Monty and Felicity to stay as quiet as they could. Since they were expected to follow in their parent’s academic footsteps, staying quiet had not been difficult as both spent a great deal of time reading. So how the hell does she keeps her cool with all of this racket?
Before he could walk down the hall to enter the madness, she stopped him with her hand on his arm. “Guess I should tell you now since I won’t have a quiet moment later.”
He glanced at her, immediately noting her hand resting lightly on her stomach. His gaze jumped back to hers. “You’re…”
“Yes indeed,” she grinned. “Bob and I are expecting again.”
“Congratulations, Sis,” he replied sincerely, pulling her back in for another hug. Chuckling as they released each other, he said, “Well, you’re certainly living up to your name.”
“Oh, thanks! Felicity, the Patron Saint of expectant mothers strikes again!” Smiling, she added, “At least one of us is!”
“Don’t remind me,” he said, shaking his head. His parents groomed him for a political career but much to their chagrin, he entered the FBI Academy after obtaining his law degree.
“But you were always meant to be a lawyer,” his mother reminded him when he told them of his choice.
“Son, you were named Montgomery after my father, a magnificent lawyer and politician, and your mother’s grandfather, the town’s mayor for over thirty years. You could excel at a brilliant career if you would just listen to your mother and me.”
Yep—that’s how I got stuck with the name Montgomery Honor Lytton. He hung his head for a second, thinking of his great-grandfather, the Honorable Honor Seaton. I can’t believe he didn’t hate that name too!
Giving himself a mental shake, he hugged Felicity a little tighter. It seemed both of them disappointed their parents when it came to their choices.
Finally separating, they were about to walk down the hall when their mother came in from the kitchen. Lois Lytton, a tall, elegantly dressed woman appeared distressed as she held her hands out with a gallon of ice cream beginning to drip. “Felicity, I can’t get the ice cream in. I don’t know why you have to have it so full of junk.”
“Mom, frozen meat is hardly junk.”
“Humph,” their mother grumbled. “How do you know what you’ve got in there?”
“Bob’s friend went deer hunting and gave us a bunch of venison. It’s all labeled, mom,” Felicity answered, rolling her eyes.
Before their mother could retort with her opinion of venison that did not come from an exclusive butcher shop, she laid eyes on Monty. “Montgomery! I didn’t know you were here.”
Felicity giggled as she moved past her brother, heading toward the back of the house after taking the ice cream from their mother’s hands.
He walked over, his arms embracing his mom. I’ve gone by Monty my whole life and she has to be the only one who insists on calling me, Montgomery. I guess I should be glad she doesn’t call me Honor just to stick it to me that I’m not a judge. Sucking in a deep breath, he asked, “How are you, mom?”
“Oh, the same. Your father should be up for the Dean of the Law School once Lionel retires next month. I’m on the board but, of course, can’t vote for Russell, although I think he would be the best. I am thinking of cutting back on my classes now that I’m Dean of the Law School Admissions, but who knows if that will happen.”
Wanting his mother to finish her dissertation so he could make it to the party, he smiled politely while nodding at the appropriate times. “Well, it sounds like you and dad are staying busy.”
A questioning expression crossed her lovely face. “What I don’t understand, Montgomery, is why you threw away a perfectly good law degree to become a policeman?”
Feeling the familiar rush of irritation when in his mother’s presence for more than thirty seconds, he stated, “I worked for the FBI, mom, not the local police department. Although, if I had worked as a policeman, I would have considered it a worthy career. I was perfectly happy there and am now even more happy as an investigator for a private firm.”
She turned and started to move back to the kitchen, but fired a parting shot, as usual, over her shoulder, “Why you want to run around playing private eye is beyond me. Such a waste of an excellent education!”
Felicity walked out of the kitchen at that moment declaring, “Mom, I got the ice cream in.”
Monty watched as his sister stepped up, linked her arm through his, and said, “Come on, cowboy. Let’s go play with the princesses!” She leaned in and whispered, “At least dad has mellowed a bit with age!”
Laughing, the two made their way to the den.
An hour later, Monty and his dad stood back as Felicity and her husband, Bob, circled around the table serving the drinks and ice cream and generally handling the pandemonium. The eight little girls giggled and squealed at the decorations. The older brother, no longer pouting, made his way to the table, anxious for the treats.
“How is your…uh…work?” his father asked.
Still on color-explosion-overload, Monty turned his head toward his father and replied, “It’s fine, dad. And before you ask, I still work for Saints Protection & Investigations.”
“Um hmm,” his dad murmured.
“And yes, I still love my job and find it quite rewarding.”
“I didn’t say anything, Monty,” his dad admonished, drawing himself up.
“You didn’t have to, dad. You and mom have made it abundantly clear that my career choices are lacking in your eyes.”
Before his father could refute the claim, his mother walked over to them. “I tried to get Felicity to have the party at one of the lovely clubhouses and be catered,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. “How they stand this noise, I’ll never understand.”
Monty said nothing, knowing no reply was expected. Before he was forced to endure more comments from his loving, but clueless parents, Felicity walked in from the kitchen carrying a massive platter of the most ornate cupcakes he had ever seen.
Each one was piled high with swirls of white, pink, purple, and teal colored frosting and flowers.
“Angels!” the little girls screamed in delight.
“Oh, my, now that is impressive,” Lois said, unusually awed. “She got them ACH.”
“What’s ACH?” Russell asked.
“Only the best bakery in the whole area. Angel’s Cupcake Heaven. It’s said that the owner has orders from all over the state and she even sends some to a few events in D.C. If she had any business sense, she would expand as quickly as possible and not just keep her little shop here in Charlestown.”
“Uncle Monty!” screamed the birthday girl. “You have to eat one.”
He stared dubiously at the pink, purple, and teal lips of every girl at the party and wondered how he could excuse himself from the confectionary explosion. His eyes searched his sister’s gaze for assistance but found none.
“Come on, little brother,” she called. “You only get to party with the birthday girl once a year.”
Sighing, he nodded as he walked over to the table, hoping his clothes would be able to escape any icing disasters. He was not sure his white dress shirt would weather a pink or purple stain.
“Go big or go home,” his no-longer pouting nephew pronounced. Cocking his eyebrow at him, he shook his head. What the hell, he thought as he tried to get his mouth around the enormous cupcake. Unsuccessful at maintaining his dignity, he gave up and began to shove in as much in as he could to the raucous laughter of the partygoers.
Felicity came to the rescue before he choked. “Here, you can spit some out if you need.”
As the sweet, creamy deliciousness melted on his tongue, he shook his head, continuing to chew. The moist cake paired perfectly with the light confection on top. As he finished, he looked triumphantly at the crowd as Bob snapped his picture. The children giggled as he walked past his parents to the hall powder room and gazed in the mirror. Pink, purple, and teal. All over his lips. All over his tongue. Even smeared on his right cheek.
Washing it off good-naturedly, he headed back to the party. Definitely color-overload. Won’t be sorry if I never see those three colors again!
*
The evening skyline was striking as Monty stood staring out of his floor to ceiling windows. His condo resided in a large downtown warehouse that had been revitalized along with the area. The open space was minimally decorated. For him, a home was just a place to eat, sleep, and be alone. Leery of too many mementos lying around seemed to be an occupational hazard from his investigating days as an FBI agent. He had poured through homes filled with knick-knacks, photographs, old furniture, and closets stuffed with childhood memories. Coming home to his immaculate condo gave him a sense of order.
Walking from the windows to the kitchen, he pulled down a tumbler and poured a few fingers of whiskey. He heated a slice of last night’s pizza, left over from a party of his co-workers. Plating his slice, he took the drink and plate over to the kitchen bar and settled on a stool.
Digging into the hot, melted cheese combined with spicy pepperoni, his mind wandered back to the previous evening. Jack Bryant, his boss, hosted an engagement party for one of their co-workers. Bart, a reformed player, was now planning his wedding to a woman who had helped them on their last case. Faith, a psychologist and artist, was also a seer with the ability to sometimes help solve crimes. The petite beauty had managed to tame the notorious Bart and witnessing the two of them together gave Monty hope that, one day, he might find his match.
Chuck’s Bar and Grille hosted the party and he smiled as he thought how the group had grown. Jack was now married to Bethany; Cam married his rescue mission, a sweet nurse named Miriam; Jude was engaged to Sabrina, Bart’s cousin; and now Bart and Faith were engaged.
Running his hand over his face as he finished the pizza, he took his drink to the sofa and sat down after kicking off his shoes. Sipping his drink, he remembered six months ago, as Jack moved into his new compound for the Saints, the eight original men wondered if a woman would ever fit into their lives.
Jack’s business, Saints Protection & Investigations, was exactly what they had all been looking for. A former Special Forces soldier, Jack had brought together a team of men from various backgrounds, including DEA, SEAL, CIA, FBI, weapons and explosive experts, using their combined specialties for a security business that flew under the radar. Private and government contracts provided lucrative enticements, but every one of the men who were Jack’s elite would have done their jobs for a lot less money. The chance to investigate crimes and protect, without the bureaucratic bullshit that hampered each of them in the past. Monty’s lips curved up at the thought.
Polishing off his drink, he moved to the bedroom. Another room sparsely furnished. Utilitarian…but male. Stalking through to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Leaning closer, he noticed a slight streak of pink on the edge of his jaw. Chuckling to himself, as he washed it off, the thought of the colorful morsel from his niece’s party had him licking his lips once more. The sweet confection no longer remained on his face…but stayed in his memory.