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  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.

  He teased her lips, and with no resistance, she parted them, then welcomed his tongue into her mouth. She mimicked his tongue’s movement, putting every positive emotion she had for him into this foreplay before he deepened the kiss.

  Her response came swiftly. Needing to get closer, she slid her hand up his rock-hard chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. When her breasts fit snuggly against him, Ken pulled her closer until sparks of pleasure drove through her.

  She drank in all that he gave her in that moment when reality crashed in and her blood turned cold.

  Jerking back out of his arms, she covered her mouth in self-reproach. This was one of the men responsible for her husband’s death. The intel reports told all. Bev had told her Ken hadn’t saved Lance because he wanted Sam for herself. She hadn’t believed her friend, but….

  Sick to her stomach, she did the only thing she could. “Leave,” she demanded.

  He turned away from her. “As your team leader and a man who’s always held our friendship dear, I support you. As your husband’s best friend and someone I care about more than friendship, I don’t want you anywhere near the danger that comes with this job.” He turned back to her. “I’m having trouble reconciling the two.”

  Her heart wondered if there was more to his statement. Even if not, reconciling those two things had to happen. Either she had to allow things with her and Ken to progress and forget about what she’d learned. Or, she had to find a way to make both Ken and Jesse pay for her husband’s death.

  She slammed the door behind Ken as she strode away. Could she really allow herself to fall in love with one of the men responsible for her loss? Not wanting to think it through, she dropped on the couch. Dropping her head in her hands, she cried for all she’d lost and all she might lose.

  5

  Where the hell had that come from? Ken had been a fool to kiss her while he’d been acting like an ass. He could understand—in a small way—if his action had been too much as she hadn’t verbalized her agreement to move to the next step. What he couldn’t understand was why she turned him down for dinner then used the “boss” bullshit.

  To be complete, he needed her in his life. His heart had always been devoted to her, even from afar. He had to pull it all together.

  He had to remember the most important part—she asked him to leave after he kissed her. No other words. Just asked him to leave. He’d overstepped his bounds, but she’d looked so defeated and vulnerable that he’d wanted to enfold her in his arms.

  When the first agent on his team burst from the building, Ken brought his focus back to his task. With the team split, he could devote more time to the cohesiveness of his smaller group. They’d all worked together, but now they had a chance to strengthen their bonds and become a smaller family. One who anticipated every move and countermove their teammate would make. Plus, they had to get used to Franks—his team’s new second-in-command—leading them when he couldn’t. Like right now. The agents had become comfortable with Grits, but times had changed.

  “Dammit!” he shouted, a stopwatch in his hand. “It took you four seconds longer than our target time.”

  Not long ago, a training house had been constructed so that they could practice rescues, which, unfortunately, numbered higher on their ops than protection details, but equal to their government-sanctioned ops which kept climbing.

  “Four seconds,” he stressed, “longer to clear the house,” he reiterated to a tired and sweaty team.

  Dressed in full tactical gear, the team had run different scenarios inside the hull of a house with no air conditioning with him not giving them time to rest in-between. They had to be ready to tackle a rescue even while exhausted. The rescue came first and foremost of any such op.

  He had to get his point across even though he knew they understood. “Your delay could’ve notified the captors and our op would’ve ended in recovery instead of rescue. Our goal for the victims is rescue.”

  No one spoke. Solemn, tired faces looked back at him, offering no excuses—which he wouldn’t tolerate. He hadn’t needed to tell them what taking too long could mean. They were hardened warriors. And warriorettes, if there was such a thing.

  “Let’s run it again,” Ken said, even knowing he’d probably pushed them far enough for the day. He worried that if they were called up for an op right now, he couldn’t go in and lead them. They had to learn to beat the clock without him.

  “Come on, Boss. Give us five to catch our breath,” Franks requested while leaning over with his hands on his knees. Ken trusted him, but he wished the agent had more leadership experience. His DEA experience was good—but not enough. When he was back on his feet, Ken would work with him, because his second had what it took.

  Seeing how tired they were, he looked at his watch and grimaced. It was later than he’d expected. It wasn’t like him to lose track of time. In truth, he knew he’d pushed so hard because Sam hadn’t been acting as sniper; she’d been right in the thick of it. They had to get it right to protect her while he couldn’t. “We’ll call it a day and tackle this tomorrow. Make sure to clean your weapons before you leave.”

  Cowboy snorted and rolled his eyes. “Like you have to tell us that.”

  “Since Bravo team is out, you’re on call,” Ken reminded them.

  Stone laughed. “You don’t have to tell us that either.”

  “Wait,” Franks said. “Don’t tell me—make sure your gear is in good working order.”

  “Don’t forget—make sure your go-bag is ready,” Sugar added with a chuckle.

  “And the med kit,” Doc added.

  By this time, the entire team was either grinning or laughing. He’d give them this bit of fun because it told him they listened. Not that he’d had to truly tell them to do all those things and more; they knew how to prepare. “Are you done?” he asked sourly.

  “There’s plenty more,” Franks responded with a wry smile. “Should we continue?”

  Normally he’d tell them to go fuck themselves, but he’d been trying to clean up his language so he wouldn’t owe Reagan so much. That child’s jar had already begun to fill. Plus, he did want to behave better around the Hamilton children. The Hamiltons had become his family. They’d taken him in and treated him as if he belonged. Although that pack of brothers could get overwhelming and opinionated when he didn’t want the hassle. “No. Just get it all done.”

  After punching his code into the keypad beside the door, the team trudged through the war room to the weapons room. Once finished, Ken expected them to go to the locker rooms and get showers. He could use one also, but he’d survive until he arrived home. Not wearing full gear or running the drills, he’d survived the worst of the stifling heat. Plus, even with the wind in his face on his Harley, he’d still sweat on the ride home.

  The in-residence Hamilton brothers strolled into the war room, most carrying their gear, bag, and weapons. It was odd since a typical investigation didn’t require tactical gear. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Trent needs some help,” Jesse stated. Ken missed running the team with Trent McKenzie—the Hamilton’s half-brother. Although he’d taken to ranching in Montana instead of his spot at HIS, the brothers remained close. Well, as close as they had before. The brothers always respected Trent on the
team and since they’d grown up together, they knew each other better than most.

  “What kind of help?” Ken nodded toward the bags that AJ and Matt—Brad’s twin—carried. With Jake and Brad augmenting Bravo team, that would leave Jesse and Devon—their former CIA computer guru—as the only Hamiltons at HQ—minus Rylee and Kate. He couldn’t forget that Emily would be there also.

  “Someone’s slaughtering his cattle. He also found a stallion dead in his stall. His throat had been slashed. Plus other cruel actions,” AJ said with a heavy dose of anger and disgust.

  Hell. Anyone who harmed animals—and children and old people, heck anyone—deserved punishment. “Why aren’t you sending my team?” He felt slighted, no, more like fully insulted at being overlooked.

  Jesse hesitated. “We’re not sure your team is ready without you.”

  Ken couldn’t help but bristle, even though Jesse was in all probability correct. Individually they were strong, but with a new second-in-command, they needed time.

  “Besides,” Jesse continued, “we’re making it a family reunion of sorts. The wives and kids are going.” Jesse lifted two tactical bags that Ken imagined were for Kate and Rylee.

  Unbelievable. Hadn’t they just spoken of danger? “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  With a cheeky grin, Devon said proudly, “Have you forgotten two of those wives were FBI before they joined this elite group?”

  Of course he remembered. Kate and Rylee were incredible assets on the team. Together, they could clear an area faster than any of their spec ops brethren. “No, I remember. Does this mean Devon’s going too?” If Rylee was going, that probably meant her husband would travel with her. They’d need Devon’s skills if another op came up.

  Devon shook his head. “No. Jesse and I are staying back since we have Bravo team in the field.”

  He nodded, thankful they would have support if needed. He’d let them figure out the family thing and danger. Although, none of it was new to them.

  When the brothers went back to planning, Ken sought out his team.

  “No, on the second run, I got the drop on the tango in the back room,” Cowboy insisted.

  “Bullshit,” Stone said. “Sugar clearly had the bead on him first.”

  A frisson of pride filled him that Sam held her own, not that he doubted her for a second.

  While he quietly held fast at the door, no one said a word to him even though he knew every single one of them was aware that he stood there. They’d have acknowledged him had he strode into the room bearing news, but for him to stand there meant nothing more than he’d been observing.

  Sam smiled without lifting her head from her task. “I do believe I did, Michael.”

  Looking up, Cowboy narrowed his eyes at her and muttered, “Don’t call me that. The name is Vaughn or Cowboy.”

  “Whatever you say, Michael,” she taunted as her grin broadened.

  Cowboy’s face turned red, and Ken held his breath. Cowboy could be lethal, and he appeared to be headed toward angry. Then he surprised Ken by relaxing and shrugging. “Okay, Samantha.”

  Her animated interaction with the team fit in well with the dynamics. It sucked keeping that professional distance from her when he wanted to pull her into his arms. First, he’d ask her why she broke their kiss, told him to leave, and avoided being alone with him.

  Sam regarded Cowboy a moment and laughed. “Touché.”

  With that, Ken walked into the room to the tables where the team completed their task.

  “Hey, Boss,” Doc said, without breaking from his work.

  Taking an empty seat, he nodded in response—even though Doc couldn’t see it. “The remaining brothers are taking off.”

  Everyone stopped what he or she’d been doing and snapped their attention to Ken. “What’s going on?” Franks asked.

  “Some trouble at Trent’s place.”

  Cowboy whistled. “That’s a big place with a shitload of land to cover.”

  “They’re taking Kate and Rylee also. Along with the rest of the brood.”

  “Well hell,” Franks said. “Who does that leave us as backup if we get called out?”

  He knew they’d balk at this—by whether being passed over for the op or because they’d be left with Franks for the first time if called out—but they’d find out the truth when they walked into the war room. “Old Man and Devon.”

  Cowboy snorted. “So you mean Old Man.”

  “Hold on,” Franks said. “Devon can hold his own out there. You’ve seen him.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him kick some ass. He surprised the hell out of me, but he doesn’t go out,” Cowboy argued.

  Needing to put a stop to it, Ken jumped in. “Look, we need Devon back here on that magic computer of his. Besides, since I’m down, Old Man will automatically go with you to give you support.”

  Tension filled the air. He should’ve told them when they split the team instead of waiting until after they’d had a tough training session. Even though they’d love to work with Old Man, they probably felt like they were being punished. It resembled having the principal take over the class instead of the teacher. No one really liked that as they feared they wouldn’t measure up to the standards.

  “You didn’t tell us that,” Sugar said in a strange voice. Ken couldn’t tell if she was happy or angry about it. “I thought Franks would lead us.”

  Ken shrugged. “It’s the only way you can go. Since we brought the group down to smaller sized teams, we can’t afford any shortages. It’ll take us some time to add more agents.”

  The team worked in silence, then Cowboy piped up. “I still say on the second run I got the drop on the tango in the back room.”

  Laughter filled the room and the tension disappeared.

  Sam slapped the table bedside her weapons. “Done.” She beamed with pride. “And it’s not even my piece. It’s just that crap you guys carry.”

  A bit of grumbling went through the men since they knew the M4 she’d used today was nothing to laugh about, even compared to her top-notch sniper rifle. As for the handguns they carried, HIS allowed the men—he had to remember women also—to carry what they felt most comfortable using. Mostly Glocks, but plenty of SIGs.

  For rifles, they’d all argued over their favorite—M16, AR15, AK47, and M4. In the end, after weighing everything, Devon purchased them M4s, which they all enjoyed even if they grumbled about how their service weapon had been superior. When he provided them with M203 grenade launchers to attach to the rifle, the grumbling ceased. Devon promised to look for anything better. Ken figured that meant before it went on sale to the military or civilians.

  Bragging rights for the first to complete their weapons cleaning were held in the balance. There seemed to be some non-tangible reward that went with it, but Ken hadn’t extracted that information from them. Smartly, they kept it to themselves because he’d have to lecture them on doing it right instead of doing it fast for reward. Although, he remembered those days as a Ranger when the teams had done the same thing.

  Picking up her weapons, Sam stood. “I’m off to shower. See you guys in the rec room.”

  Ken hadn’t realized he’d been blatantly watching Sam’s backside as she exited the room until the snickers reached his hearing. Turning his head back to the men, they abruptly quieted but kept smirks on their faces. Had he really been that obvious? Apparently so.

  Tipping his chair back on two legs, he thought of something to say that would take their mind off his wandering eye. “Did I tell you that Em’s pregnant again?”

  Cowboy shook his head. “That family is a regular baby factory.”

  “Only if you put them all together. Separate they’re not too bad,” Doc said.

  A stabbing pain gutted him. He hadn’t thought much of children before, but having a family….

  Without looking up, Cowboy s
tated, “I’m not having kids.”

  “That’s because you haven’t learned how to make babies,” Stone said.

  “Fuck you.”

  Franks made a tsking sound. “It’s a good thing you’re not having kids with language like that.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Cowboy asked. “What about all your language?” He looked around the table.

  “We’re trying to clean it up—at least when we’re home. Reagan gave us a tongue-lashing the last time we were with the family. Then she introduced us to her swear jar.” Franks shook his head. “That girl is way too grown up.”

  “What type of military team doesn’t use foul language?” Cowboy persisted.

  “One that isn’t only military,” Franks responded. “Some of us were taught manners.”

  Before a military versus law enforcement argument broke out, Ken stood. “Look, your language is your own, and so is whether you contribute to her. Just be respectful around the kids. That’s all the brothers and I ask.”

  Ken stood. As he exited the room, he smiled when he heard Cowboy say, “Well, hell.”

  While Ken finished up a little bit of paperwork, the team played darts in the rec room. He was unsure whether they waited for him so they could depart together or if they really wanted to play the game before they left for the day.

  After finishing, he joined them and played a round—getting his ass handed to him by Stone—before they all called it a day. Jesse and Devon were huddled around Devon’s computer when they left and gave a nod goodbye.

  As the team fanned out to go to their vehicles, Ken closed in on Sam. He had to try again, apologize, or at least smooth her ruffled feathers. “May we speak for a minute?”

  Probably still bristling from their last meeting, she stated matter-of-factly, “No.”

  Nearly struck dumb at her easy dismissal, Ken stood for a moment then strode toward his Harley. He needed the wind in his face to clear his head. Somehow he’d been going about this all wrong. Actually, he had to get his head on straight for what he wanted with her. And what he could reasonably ask of her.