Three #2

“I—”

“I find this all reprehensible.”

“And you killing the men I was going to take into custody, what about their lives?”

“They were on their way here to kill whoever crossed their path—and again, there are wives here, husbands, and children. I won’t shed a tear for them.”

“And you assume that what you learned from them is everything they knew? You’re so certain?”

Hawthorne took a breath. “After my people detained them, I sent Lee Tae San to talk to them. I can assure you that whatever they knew, we now know.”

“Lee works for you?”

He nodded.

“He’s been out of the contract game so long; we thought he was killed.”

“No. He works for me, and has since I became the Vault.”

Horace nodded.

“I need you to vacate this B and B at once.”

“What about that guy,” he asked, pointing to the sicario. “Who did he come here to kill?”

“He is not your problem,” Hawthorne said, turning his head slowly to Dante. “He’s someone else’s. Someone who should know better.”

Dante squinted at him. “You know about him?”

“Of course I know about him,” Hawthorne snapped. “And the fact that you don’t concerns me greatly.”

“I second that,” Colter chimed in. “What the hell?”

Dante threw up his hands as if done, at the same time the door opened and Jing Khoo leaned in.

Last Christmas, when she helped save me and my family, she became one of my favorite people. She worked for Colter, and as far as I could tell, was best friends with Isaak Skriabin, currently the most terrifying contract killer in the world. In retrospect, I should have rethought my guest list.

“Boss, we have trouble,” she told Colter.

“More trouble?”

“Yeah.” She sounded annoyed. “There were more cartel guys on their way to give your friend there, we suspect, some additional backup, and—” But she stopped talking, turned her head, and then leaned back in. “Hold that thought.” She then closed the door.

“What’s going on?” Hawthorne asked.

Colter shook his head. “Wait a minute. She’ll tell us.”

On cue, the door opened, Jing looking suddenly better, relieved almost. “Okay, we’re good. We know who that guy’s after, as well as the men on their way here.”

“And?” Colter prodded her.

“Carmello Ortiz wants Dante dead.”

“Hah, told you,” Chris crowed at Dante. “Why would he want me dead? I’ve worked for him in the past, plus I have the protection of the Nueva Leone cartel now. We have no issues.”

“I thought you were protected by the Lima cartel,” Colter said to Chris.

He shook his head. “No. They wanted me to kill a family, and you know I don’t do that. The man in charge got really upset when I protected everyone until they could get out of Mexico.”

“I assume that was someone related to the Nueva Leone cartel?”

“You would be correct.”

“Well, nothing you could do about that,” Colter replied. “You have to follow your conscience, and anyone who knows your reputation knows you don’t hurt spouses or kids.”

“Of course not.”

“Which is great,” I praised Chris. “Truly. But you know I’m––”

“Getting married, yeah, yeah, I know.” He glared at me. “We just have to help Dante work through his brain fart here and remember what the fuck he did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dante said defensively.

“Having friends is a blessing, but it’s not always easy,” Hawthorne mused.

“Amen,” Chris seconded.

“No kidding,” Colter muttered, squinting at Dante.

“I didn’t do anything,” Dante repeated, louder that time.

“You did something to the Jalisco cartel. Really try and remember.”

Dante glanced around at all the men in the room with their arms crossed and waiting on him. “I did send a team to Sinaloa to retrieve a couple of my daughter’s stupid friends who had inadvertently gotten into trouble. Could that be it?”

We all waited some more.

“They were working on a farm there for their podcast.”

Chris chuckled.

“What was I supposed to do? Have the cartel turn two very nice college boys without a drop of common sense between them into drug mules?”

“I’m betting your guys didn’t go in quietly, did they?” I asked with a sigh.

The guy on the floor shouted through his gag then, as much as he could, and rocked a bit back and forth, looking more than a bit agitated.

Dante winced. “It was not a normal snatch and grab, no.”

“Lots of casualties?” Colter asked him.

“Not any of my team or the two boys.” Dante sounded indignant.

“It was loud, and it was big,” Hawthorne said flatly. “And the boys couldn’t keep their mouths shut once they got back, letting everyone know that you, Dante Cerreto, saved them.”

“They did,” Owen said, looking at something on his phone. “There’s even a podcast episode devoted to you. From the title, it sounds quite flattering.”

Dante groaned.

“You stomped all over them, disrupted their production—I’d be pissed too,” Chris told him. “No wonder they’re here to exact revenge.”

Dante shook his head. “I didn’t think they had the resources to leave their country and come all the way to Maine to hunt me down.”

Lots of people shaking their heads at him.

“This is why I don’t do this anymore.”

“No one is faulting you for saving the boys or messing with a cartel,” Colter assured him. “But you missed a step.”

“Namely covering your tracks,” Chris told him, then looked at Jing. “Sorry, not ignoring you. We’re just dealing with the fallout here.”

“I know,” she deadpanned with a shake of her head. I was struck, as I always was, by how beautiful she was. She looked like a model or an actress, utterly stunning with her alabaster skin, long jet-black hair, and dark eyes.

“You mentioned we have trouble?” Colter asked her.

“ Had trouble. Past tense,” she clarified, then stepped into the room, followed by Sam Kage.

“Is this a secret clubhouse, or can anyone come in?”

All eyes on him, and I noted that Jing hadn’t moved farther in, content, it seemed, to be there beside him as he assessed the room and everyone there.

Just like the rest of the men, Sam Kage radiated power, especially in his Burberry suit. But whereas the others felt lethal, dangerous, even scary, it amalgamated differently with the chief deputy. He seemed more solid somehow, which didn’t make much sense—Jared Colter was a retired colonel, after all, and Darius Hawthrone ran an enormous worldwide shadow organization. And yet Sam Kage seemed like the one to trust and follow, the one not doing anything in the darkness, all out in the sunshine for anyone to see. He was transparent in all his dealings and had always seemed to me the one who would give you shelter in the storm.

Perhaps it was because I knew him best, had been in his home and seen his life up close. Maybe if you could see what had been built, it was easier to believe in. Also, it felt like all the others worked outside the law, but Sam Kage worked with it, hand in hand.

“I’m sure you all know this, but there are rules when you have a law enforcement officer on site,” Kage made known, directing his comments to Hawthorne, obviously aware he was the most connected person in the room. “For instance, that man sitting on the floor, I need to take him into custody and keep him with the others until we’re relieved by the marshals from the District of Maine.”

The moment he finished speaking, he walked over to the bound man. Carefully, Kage helped him to stand before removing the gag. Dante passed him a knife, and Kage cut off the PlastiCuffs around the man’s ankles but left the ones on his wrists. He then walked his prisoner to the door and handed him off to someone.

“Wait, are all the other men already in custody?” Hawthorne asked Jing. “Is that how you knew Dante was the target and not Chris?”

“Yes,” she said, then to Kage, “Thank you for explaining everything. I really appreciate not having to do anything at all strenuous. I’m wearing Atelier Versace, after all.”

“Understood.”

“I noticed your daughter is as well. I’d love to go have a word with her.”

“Please do,” Kage told her.

She smiled at everyone, told Colter she would corral Isaak, gave a quick wave, and ducked out.

“Oh, she likes you,” Colter told Kage.

“She seems terribly capable.”

“You would be correct,” Colter agreed. “May I ask how you took—how many men are there?”

“Ten.”

“How did you take them all into custody?” Hawthorne asked, finishing Colter’s question.

“Well, I have my deputy director here, Ian Doyle, as well as his husband, Miro Jones, who is my director of custodial WITSEC. Also, my friend—and yours too, I understand—Police Commander Duncan Stiel, who was just at the door, taking the prisoner into custody.”

Hawthorne exhaled sharply. “You have everything under control.”

“Yes, sir,” Kage affirmed, then glanced at Dante. “Your husband was very helpful and allowed us to make use of your karaoke room next to the bar as a place to hold everyone. Only one entrance and exit, which is perfect, and he also helped locate some rope.”

“Yes, well, that’s how he is, always helpful.” Dante sounded dejected before he looked at me. “I’m sorry the cartel picked your special day to come after me.”

“That was probably for the best,” Colter told him. “Lots of backup this way.”

“I’m not completely vulnerable here,” Dante grumbled. “I can defend myself.”

“Yes, but you have a lot of people here, plus your husband,” Hawthorne pointed out. “This was the best-case scenario, don’t you think?” He and Colter looked at Dante expectantly.

“Yes,” he groaned after a moment, then glanced at me. “I am sorry, though.”

“It can’t be helped,” I replied. “And you did a good thing.”

“Yes, I did,” he enunciated to the room.

Kage walked over to Chris then and offered him his hand. “I wanted to thank you for saving my daughter earlier in the year when George was deployed and asked you to protect her.”

Chris looked a bit stunned as he shook Sam Kage’s hand. I was guessing it had been a minute since he found himself in the company of law enforcement.

Kage turned to me. “I’m sorry the wedding is on hold until we can get these prisoners moved, but I assure you, men are on the way to take custody of them.”

“I understand. I’m sure Kurt will as well, but I do need to let him know.”

“Of course, and so you’re aware, Doyle is actually in his suit, unlike Mancuso here.”

With everything going on around me, that had completely escaped my notice. Everyone else, from Dante to his husband, Noah, to Jing and Hawthorne, were all dressed.

“Could you please go change?” I asked Chris, who glanced around the room.

“He means now,” Colter suggested.

Chris threw up his hands and went to the door but stopped. “I’d like to point out that a cartel still has Dante on a hit list, in case anyone forgot.”

“Aw, Chris, you care,” Dante baited him.

“Because I vacation with you, and I’d rather not do it behind bulletproof glass or riding around in Darius’s armor-plated SUV.”

Colter turned to look at Hawthorne. “You have an armor-plated SUV?”

“Of course I have an armor-plated SUV,” he groused at his friend. “Don’t you?”

“The fuck would I need that for?”

Chris clapped his hands. “Focus.”

“I’ll take care of the cartel issue,” Hawthorne apprised him, then looked at Kage. “I don’t want to be disrespectful to you or your position as a marshal, but…”

“I have no problem with you protecting your friend. I would do the same.”

Hawthorne smiled. “I look forward to meeting your daughter and hearing about why Chris needed to save her.”

“It’s a good story,” Kage told him. “Made good, of course, by the fact that with George and his friends, she is always protected.”

“Does she need constant guarding?” Colter sounded concerned.

Kage nodded. “She, much like her father, my husband, is a trouble magnet.”

When Colter glanced at me, I nodded vigorously.

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Kage told him. “So much so that George has a tracker on her.”

All eyes on me. “I have to. Hannah Kage is danger girl.”

“You’re sure you’re not overdoing this a bit?”

It was good to hear Kage laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on Kurt’s door, and Thomasin opened it a bit, enough for me to catch a sliver of the ivory silk dress she was wearing and a small portion of her face.

“I wanted to let Kurt know that we’re waiting for marshals to show up and take some men into custody, but that the wedding will proceed close to the time we were supposed to start.”

“Everyone will be drunk and full of charcuterie by the time this thing gets going,” she assured me.

I tipped my head back and forth. “That seems highly probable.”

Huff of breath. “Why are there marshals en route?”

“There were some people here we didn’t anticipate, but I don’t want you to think that your family was ever in?—”

“I know you would never allow my family to be placed in danger, George. Even if you weren’t aware of a problem, once you found out about it, you would keep us safe.”

She had such faith in me. Not that it was entirely undeserved. There was last Christmas to consider, after all.

“I would, and I will. Always.”

“Why were these people at the B and B?”

“They were looking for Mr. Cerreto.”

Apparently, she’d been around me enough already that she could now take that answer in stride. No gasp, no immediate volley of questions, instead solely concern. “But Mr. Cerreto is lovely, and so is his husband. Will he be safe once the marshals remove the threat? Will more people arrive?”

“Yes, to the first question, no to the second.” Lee Tae San was on his way to put the fear of God into the cartel. He would convey that there would be swift and deadly consequences if there were any other attempts on Dante Cerreto’s life. And for his part, Dante would not be back. Lee would promise that as well.

“That’s good,” she said, eyeing me.

“Is there any way I could talk to Kurt?”

“Mmmm, I don’t think so.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he’s a bit upset at the moment,” she informed me, opening the door wide. “He went for a walk, which I encouraged. He needed to clear his head.”

“But it’s a really short delay, and then?—”

“That’s not it,” she soothed me. “He got a call from your friend…Ethan—Evan? Edward? Efrem?—no, that’s Mr. Hawthorne’s husband—but it’s an E name for sure, and he said he would be here, after all, but wouldn’t make the wedding, just the reception. Apparently his plane was scheduled to land at the same time the wedding started.”

“It’s Errol. But why did he call Kurt and not me?”

“Because Kurt’s number was on the invitations for the RSVP. In case you were deployed.”

Right. “But why would talking to him upset Kurt?”

“All I know is that your friend was relating an incident that occurred on your last deployment, which, I inferred, was a bit dicey.”

No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t possibly be that much of an idiot.

My friend, Sergeant Errol Wagner, could not have been so stupid as to tell the man I loved, and was about to marry, that on my last outing, when I was working with the FBI HRT team, they had left me bleeding out in a building in Mosul.

It was a small group meant to be in and out without coming up on anyone’s radar.

Everything from hitting the house, to the extraction, had gone perfectly. We successfully acquired our target, the kidnapped daughter of an Iraqi minister. The issue was, we had bad intel and making our escape, ran into heavy fire and had to take cover in a building that had not been cleared. Not surprisingly, a wall collapsed between me and the rest of the team. I’d heard the telltale rumble and shoved one of the agents out of the way, and then got trapped under the rubble. Since their first directive was to get the hostage to safety, I was expendable. I knew that going in, I understood the mission, but I’d been in a lot of pain in those blurry moments and had wanted nothing more than to call Kurt and tell him I loved him. And that would’ve been selfish, to make him listen to me take my dying breath, but the urge had been great. There was also the fear that if I passed out and didn’t die, I would be apprehended and tortured for information. Bleeding to death or taking my own life were the only two options at that moment.

Lying there in pain, finding it harder and harder to breathe with each passing second, terrified that I was being slowly crushed to death, I heard someone say my name in my comm.

“Wags?” I whispered.

“Yeah, he’s there,” he said over the comms to others, then to me, “What did we say about going out with the fuckin’ Feds?”

“Never again,” I rasped. “Are you close?”

“We’re close. Two clicks down the road. Stay put.”

“Can’t do anything else. Building came down on me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You hurt?”

“Yeah,” I barely got out.

“Well, hold the fuck on. We’re coming.”

I didn’t remember him and his team arriving. I had passed out by then. There were bigger issues than my ankle then. I was bleeding inside and out.

Later, during transport, I opened my eyes with the oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. I was rocking back and forth, and Errol had a death grip on my hand. When he looked down and found my gaze on him, he tried to smile.

“Just stay, all right?” he choked out. “Don’t go. I can’t…and you don’t want this to be the thing. I mean, not with the FBI.”

I nodded.

He exhaled sharply, then looked forward. “Make it go faster, Ruiz!”

“I’m taking these turns on two wheels, Wags,” he yelled back. “Shut the fuck up and let me drive.”

Wagner did just that.

“Hang on, Hunt! Don’t you fuckin’ die. I can’t take any more of this shit!”

Wagner took a shaky breath and looked at me. “What he said.”

They were both stateside at the moment. All the guys from my unit, including Steven Ruiz, were coming to my wedding. Wagner being the sole maybe, as he was overseeing something in Damascus he couldn’t tell me about. When you were working with the CIA, that was how it was.

And now I wished he’d stayed there because he’d outed me to Kurt, letting him know I lied to him. Not a good start to our wedding day.

“Where did he go?” I asked Thomasin.

“He said he was going for a walk down by the lake.”

Fuck.

“I’m sure he’ll be right back,” she said confidently.

I wasn’t so sure.

Leaving her, I took the flight down to the first floor and turned the corner at the base of the stairs quickly so no one saw me—I didn’t want to get stuck talking when I needed to find Kurt—then darted toward the rear exit when I heard him laugh.

I knew all his sounds, and well. I could pick out a chuckle or a sigh or moan without question. When I heard it again, I spun around and nearly ran into Hannah.

“Oh,” she gasped, laughing at me. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine, I just need to find Kurt and?—”

“He’s with my father.”

I shook my head. “I was with your father and?—”

“No, with my pa,” she apprised me. “Kurt looked upset, and I know what to do when people are upset.”

“And what is that?”

She shrugged. “Take them to my pa.”

I had no response to that.