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  When deception leads to vengeance, it's only your heart you can trust.

  Ken dropped down on one knee in front of her and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I didn’t need to be so blunt. Who knows? Maybe Lance would’ve changed his tune and been your biggest supporter on this job. I promise I’m not sexist. I know you can do the job, but I also know you can die on the job.”

  With wet eyes and tears sliding down her face, she looked at him. Die on the job. Could it be that easy?

  After dropping one of her hands, he clung to the other as he stood and pulled her up with him. Standing so close her breasts touched his chest, neither said a word. Her breathing quickened and their gazes locked with a fire lighting and flaring between them. The one thing they’d been dancing around since she’d joined HIS.

  Slowly, he leaned his head down, his lips covering hers. But it wasn’t the chaste kiss she expected. It was full of red-hot passion that tried to make up for the last ten years of separation.

  “Sheila Kell is a mistress of the genre and she has a gift for crafting well-rounded, rock-solid characters and scenes that are emotionally charged and interesting.”

  —Readers’ Favorite

  Table of Contents

  Titles by Sheila Kell

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  8

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  12

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  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Books by Sheila Kell

  Titles by Sheila Kell

  H I S SERIES

  His Desire

  His Choice

  His Return

  His Chance

  His Destiny

  His Family

  His Heart

  His Fantasy

  A Hamilton Christmas

  AGENTS OF H I S

  Evening Shadows

  EVENING SHADOWS

  Copyright © 2019 by Sheila Kell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, Cunningham Publishing, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  Publisher: Cunningham Publishing

  Coordinated by: Hot Tree Self-Publishing

  Editor: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover and Interior Design: RMGraphX

  ISBN 978-0-9992496-4-2

  1

  His life would, in all effect, end today. Everything he’d ever been would be no more. He’d quickly learned that the twists and turns life threw could impact life irrevocably, and in only a moment. And all those little moments led him to this point. The point of no return.

  In Baltimore’s dreary weather, and its on-again and off-again drizzle, Ken Patrick leaned on a cane, his hip aching from the healing bullet wound and the dampness in the air. The deep ache merely emphasized the need to do what he must.

  He paused outside the steel door that led to the amazing life and people he’d known the last few years and didn’t truly want to lose either. He and his conscience had struggled over this decision since his most recent injury, and his conscience—as always—won the argument. No matter the pit of anxiety in his gut, his decision was made, and he’d put off following through long enough.

  As team leader of the best men and women he knew—bar the men he’d served with as an Army Ranger—of Hamilton Investigation & Security, he’d failed once too often. Resigning from the team and HIS would restore the strength of the agency. Truthfully, Ken had been surprised they’d held on to him for so long, especially after the last FUBAR op. Okay, it hadn’t truly been fucked up beyond all recognition, but it’d shown him he’d lost his edge. In his line of work, that could be deadly. Glancing down at the black cane he leaned upon, he sighed heavily at the reminder of why he’d shown up at HQ.

  It’d been nearly a month since he’d taken a bullet in the hip—the same hip he’d been wounded protecting Madison Maxwell, now Madison Hamilton. At the time, he’d been focusing too much on Samantha Milton’s safety—one of his sharpshooters—instead of concentrating on the protection detail as a whole. While things rarely went as planned, his distraction had put people in danger, including himself, and subsequently, he’d had to turn over the lead to his second-in-command, Rob Grimes, aka “Grits.”

  Thinking back to the day of his injury, he wanted to kick his own ass for being so stupid. His loss of focus had been the problem that could’ve ended more than one life, and even though everyone survived and the op had been successful, the entire incident was unacceptable.

  Unable to keep the pain and weakness from his mind, Ken continued to deal with the repercussions of his stupidity. Taking the bullet wasn’t what frustrated him most, since it was always a possibility when on an op. Instead, the recovery rankled him. He required the use of a damn cane for support and had lingering pain while attempting to regain the flexibility and strength he would need to outrun or outfight any trouble in the field.

  Trying to think on the positive side, Sam had remained at his bedside while he’d recovered after surgery. Even though she’d assured him most of the team also waited, his heart absorbed the impact of her fussing over him. Since she’d come aboard HIS, they’d rekindled the closeness they’d shared what seemed like a lifetime ago. The heat that sizzled between them neared explosive. But, no matter what was building between them, they kept it strictly professional at work. With his injury, she seemed to be straddling the personal/professional line perfectly.

  “Maybe while you’re high on the drugs, I can finally beat you at darts,” she’d teased after adding another pillow behind his head on the hospital bed.

  Like that would happen. The woman may be able to hit a small target at record ranges, but she couldn’t hit the bull’s-eye of a dartboard if she stood right in front of it. His mouth curved into the grin he reserved for her. “I prefer it when we’re partners.” He meant more than at darts but wouldn’t push her, even though he felt they were on that precipice of falling into bed and burning up the sheets.

  “I do too.” Her soft voice almost escaped him. When he stared at her, he didn’t know if the narcotics played tricks on his mind and showed him what he longed to see in her vivid blue eyes. Love.

  He had to strengthen his body before he set them on the path from friends to love
rs. First though, he had to straighten out what lay ahead of him.

  Even though he’d been assured that with physical therapy he’d regain full strength without a limp, not being fully capable of doing his job chafed him.

  Sick of having his own pity party, Ken slowly input his six-digit passcode into the keypad beside the door to HIS headquarters. Once the heavy door released, Ken entered and ensured it closed with its automatic lock before he moved away from the entrance. His palms grew sweaty as nerves assailed him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that unsettling feeling. Even fighting his way through country after country, he’d never experienced the like of today. As his heart raced and with the combined awareness of his unease, he decided he could do without a case of nerves.

  Ken limped down the carpeted hallway into the depths of the structure Jesse Hamilton had constructed for a more secure building to conduct business in then the back rooms of his home. Frowning, Ken contemplated how his resignation would be received. Undoubtedly, they’d take it as a blessing so they didn’t have to fire him. What was the point of having someone on staff who couldn’t do their job? Cut and run… it was the best possible option for all of them.

  With a heavy heart, he stepped into the spacious war room where their ops were planned, briefed, and debriefed. Ken stopped and took in the sight for the last time, branding the memory on his brain. Inhaling, he wondered what they did to keep the windowless room from smelling of the sweaty, dirty agents post-op before they’d have an opportunity to shower.

  He sought out Jesse, the oldest Hamilton brother and head of HIS. With a glance around the room, he noticed the Hamilton brothers and their sister, Emily, crowded around her desk, looking at her computer monitor. On the other side of the large room, half the team huddled around each other laughing. He expected they were playing at who could one-up the other. Although he never added one of his horrific stories, he enjoyed listening to others with their acts of valor.

  Hearing a round of “Congratulations,” he swung his head back to the family. The men were each hugging their little sister and kissing her on the top of the head. Observing what appeared to be a personal moment between siblings twisted his heart. He missed the twin sister he’d lost when they were ten years old. His throat tightened at the memories. As if he didn’t have enough grief to deal with today, he didn’t need the losses that had impacted his family at the forefront of his mind.

  When Jesse spotted him, he broke apart from the family and strode toward him. Knowing Jesse would slap him on the shoulder, Ken planted his strong leg so he wouldn’t stagger under the man’s strength. Not that Jesse was generally stronger than him, but right now, most people were.

  As expected, he received that powerful slap on the shoulder. “How are you? How’s the physical therapy?”

  Ken wanted to scream about how painful the damn PT was. Between the stretching and twisting he’d endured with this injury, he’d convinced himself that it was torture in repayment for his failure. The only benefit he’d seen to date had been the reduction in pain, but the doctor said that occurred naturally with his recovery, so he wasn’t ready to credit physical therapy as anything other than a dreaded requirement.

  Attempting to exude an air of nonchalance, Ken shrugged and acted as if all was well. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Oh, how he hated that word, especially when a woman used it, but it slipped from his lips before he could recall it.

  Jesse raised a dark eyebrow. “Okay,” he dragged the word out. “Then how long before we can make you active again? We miss you out there.”

  Garnering his resolve, Ken looked around, then back at Jesse. “That’s what I came here to speak with you about. May we talk in private?”

  “Sure.” Without further question, Jesse led the way to his office in the back corner.

  Ken’s mind raced to outrun the indecisive thought trying to rear its ugly head. After this, what would he do about Sam? Just the thought of her in danger made his gut clench. He’d promised to protect her, and he’d orchestrated her being a member of HIS so he could watch over her, but his resignation would make it difficult to have her back. Then again, on ops he focused so much on her that he jeopardized himself and his team. He’d puzzle out how he’d keep that promise later, but it wasn’t like he’d done a bang-up job so far at keeping his word.

  They entered one of a few offices that had been set aside for admin work, initial op planning, and private meetings that needed to occur. Ken settled into a burgundy leather chair and glanced at Jesse’s large mahogany desk. Somehow, he kept it immaculate, and Ken wondered if Jesse just slid everything in a drawer at the end of the day so it looked like he’d been productive. Then again, Jesse didn’t do anything half-assed, so Ken figured his boss took care of business as needed on the admin side.

  With an assessing gaze, Jesse leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers behind his head. “How’s it really going?”

  Ken thought for a moment how to answer. He didn’t typically share his private life, but he’d always given Jesse what he asked. “It’s taking too damn long to heal, but the doc says it’s coming along fine.”

  Jesse appeared to contemplate his answer, making Ken even more nervous. He wanted to wipe his sweaty palms on his black cargo pants but didn’t want to show Jesse that he was anything other than the strong agent he’d hired.

  “Okay, trust the doctor. Don’t rush it or it might not heal correctly.” Before Ken could say what he needed to say, Jesse continued. “The rest of the team will be back in a few days. Rob’s doing fine, but I’m looking forward to you taking back over. If you approve of his ability to lead a team, we’re planning to split the team since it’s so large, and that’ll give each group a team leader and smaller team to bond together since many ops only take a select number of operatives.” He paused. “You’d still lead as a whole.”

  Jesse took a breath and seemed to wait for Ken’s thoughts on his suggestion, but they were jumbled. His boss’s plans included him, but Ken’s participation would be a liability to HIS. It didn’t matter which way he looked at it, his injury was debilitating. No amount of his boss’s desire to welcome him back or create the whole family vibe they had going in HIS would change that fact.

  Since Ken remained quiet, Jesse plowed forward. “You’ll see less and less of me, my brothers, and our wives in the field.” He smiled. “Kids grow up too damn fast, you know? We’ll still be involved, but we want to stay close to home and take over our investigations side. Which reminds me.” Jesse snapped his fingers, turned, and opened a desk drawer, then pulled out a small stack of yellow file folders. “I’d like to go over a few candidates with you and get your thoughts.” Jesse must’ve thought Ken had a question about the folder color, because he shrugged and explained, “Em decided we needed to color code things for easier filing for her. Yellow for candidates, then red and blue for the two teams we’ll have. I have no idea what color she’s reserved for the family.” Jesse grinned and shook his head. “Anyhow, I want you to be a part of the interview process. I don’t want to drop someone on you that might not mesh well with how you lead. We’ll also involve Rob if you think he’s ready to select the right candidates for his team. No matter what, you’re still the ultimate team leader.”

  Ken’s gut clenched. Why did this man have to be such a great leader and friend? When Jesse had contacted him before his enlistment in the army ended and offered him this position, he hadn’t hesitated to accept because someone needed to be at Jesse’s back. In the army, Ken had saved his team leader’s life twice. Jesse always argued three, but Ken didn’t count the third as he hadn’t meant to step in front of the bullet meant for Jesse. Thank God for Kevlar. But, the main reason Ken had leaped at the opportunity was because Jesse had offered a perk that allowed him to comfortably leave Georgia, knowing HIS could help him keep track of Sam.

  Until now, he’d never thought his decision to join the agency questi
onable.

  With his stomach churning up a thunderstorm, Ken cleared his throat and looked his boss in the eye. “Sir, I’ve got something to say.” “Sir” slipped from his lips as it always did. In part because Jesse had been an officer and because his mother instilled manners in him that stuck.

  Jesse’s shoulders visibly tensed, and he placed the folders on his desk. His eyes narrowed, searching, as if he could extract the truth without words. “Go on,” he encouraged.

  This time Ken did wipe his hands on his thighs, although it did nothing for the clamminess. Pushing past the lump lodged in his throat, Ken bit the bullet. “I’ve come to resign.” His heart hurt over those words. When he’d said goodbye to the army, he’d been sad, but nothing like the sudden emptiness he felt. HIS had been his new family. The place he felt needed, wanted, and, yes, loved. Emotions roiled up inside him. Loss… sadness… grief. Good God, if he cried, he’d whoop his own ass. This was nothing but smart business.

  The silence in the office resonated through to his tortured soul.

  “No.” Sitting up straight, Jesse let the simple word stand as if law.

  “No?”

  “I don’t accept your resignation.”

  Flabbergasted at the firm response, Ken tried to figure out what to say. “Sir, I don’t think you understand. I’m leaving.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Son of a— Jesse was deliberately making this difficult for him, and he didn’t appreciate it one bit. “You know what I mean.”

  Leaning forward, his forearms on the desk, hands clasped, Jesse looked intent and authoritative and every inch the intimidating officer Ken had known. “Tell me why. I think after all we’ve been through, you owe me that.”

  A sudden flash of the losses they’d sustained over time settled deep in his bones, adding to the ache from his hip. Too many men. He still had a lot to reconcile in his life. A whisper of Sam’s name played havoc with his ability to remain focused, and a hint of weariness flitted through him, making him doubt his choice.

  His prepared speech vanished, so Ken just shared what his heart held. “We’ve been through a great deal, and in each instance, I’m glad you were there. But, sir—” Now came the hard part. With a dry mouth, he continued. “I’m stepping aside so you can find someone more competent than me. I’ve failed you too many times. This bullet and the time I’ve been laid up on my ass has helped me realize I’ve lost my edge, and I don’t feel you can depend on me any longer.” Damn, but that had been hard to say. At least he’d told the truth and believed Jesse would understand and let him be on his way. Alone and jobless. But the men and women with the agency would be led safely on their ops.