Chapter 9

He should have known. Should have guessed by all the clues she'd let slip — the way she stayed in the shadows — Blake wasn't here on some grandiose mission. Wasn't secretly on an assignment with the Brotherhood Protectors or tracking down an international spy for one of the many federal agencies.

She truly was hiding.

WITSEC.

Though, if Kian was being honest with himself, a part of him had known. Had guessed it from the start. He simply hadn't wanted it to be true because it was the one scenario he might not be able to change.

I'm not sure I can live with his decision.

That's what Blake had said. Kian's small glimmer of hope that she was having doubts, too. Was questioning if she could give up her life, here.

If she could give him up.

Because he didn't want to let her go. Wanted to list all the reasons why staying on the Big Island, with him and his team as protection, wasn't just her best option. It was the only one.

But, how could he ask her to stay — to trust in him and his buddies — when they'd only known each other a few weeks?

Sure, it felt like longer. As if he'd known her all his life. That instant connection they'd had. Maybe not the details, but he knew the important ones. That she was brave. Strong. Was willing to go to any lengths to help others. Which was why she was in this mess.

Russo.

That's the name she'd said to Porter. Not that Kian knew who this Russo bastard was, but he'd change that. Would have Waylen hack into every database from here to the east coast if needed. Though, she'd promised to explain everything, and she wasn't one to break promises.

Deputy Marshal Adam Porter hadn't spoken a word since they'd landed at the ranch. He'd merely ushered them into the Brotherhood Protectors' office, where he'd been on his cell, ever since. And judging on the tension straining his back, Porter wasn't happy with whatever was being said on the other line.

Kian focused on Blake. She'd isolated herself to the far side of the room. Had her arms wrapped around her chest as if she was afraid she might fly apart at any moment. She'd barely given Presley more than a nod, already distancing herself.

Porter finally turned to face them. He did a sweep of Kian's team — all the people Blake had insisted be included in the meeting. That she apparently owed an explanation to. Except Lane. His buddy had taken one look at Porter — at how antsy the marshal was just standing there, watching them land — and had announced he was going to be their overwatch until they had this mess figured out. That Kian could fill in the details, later.

The fact Porter hadn't even balked when Lane had grabbed the rifle then headed for the roof of the building told Kian everything he needed to know. And it didn't take a psychic to see Porter was anything but impressed with how the situation was unfolding.

Porter settled on Blake, one side of his mouth twitching. "Well, this is a mess." He held up a tablet and started the video, sighing as he shook his head. "I always knew you'd be the one to give me an ulcer. Your type just can't step back from the fight, can you?"

Blake straightened her shoulders, holding her head high. Any hint of uncertainty gone. "I was answering a distress call."

"You could have left it for the Coast Guard."

Her mouth tightened at the mention of the Coast Guard. Not something everyone might notice, but Kian did. "The closest ship was thirty minutes away. Presley didn't have that kind of time."

"Or maybe, you just didn't want to let your new best friend down."

Blake glanced at Presley, then took a step toward Porter. "Screw you, Adam. I would have answered it regardless of who it was, and you know it."

"Except where that's not what you do, anymore."

"This isn't about what I do. It's about who I am." Blake glanced at Kian. One of the first times she'd made eye contact since they'd landed. "You can change my name. Change my location. But helping people is in my blood, as my dad used to say. And no one's changing that. Not even that monster."

"I understand how hard it must be to become someone new. Someone you might not even like, but we have rules for a reason."

"I've followed your damn rules. I stay in the shadows. I haven't contacted anyone from my previous life. Not once. I even avoid streets where I know there are traffic cameras, for god's sake. I don't go into stores that have CCTV. And on the rare occasion I've gone out for a drink with my only friend, it's to a place people aren't taking selfies, if you get my drift."

Blake rolled her shoulders, stretching her head from side to side. "But I'm not going to stand by when someone needs my help. If I were that kind of person, I wouldn't be in this mess. I would have caved to the bastard's threats long ago."

Porter merely shook his head, again, leaning his ass against the desk. "I knew letting you continue to fly was a mistake."

"Like you could have stopped me. No—" She cut him off with another step forward. "I gave up everything to put him away. My friends. My career. My damn life. I'm not giving up the one thing that's kept me sane."

"Which is why we're standing here, your face plastered on the wall of every connection he has, and his damn goon army on the prowl. Do you realize how poorly that interaction at the clinic could have turned out?"

"I had backup."

"Right." He turned to Hawk. "Thanks for letting me know she was hanging out with a bunch of ex-Navy SEALs. Exactly the kind of people who bring out the officer in her."

Hawk shrugged. "Who else is she supposed to hang out with? If Lane's crew isn't safe, then no one is. Besides, you wanted someone to keep an eye on her. No one better than a SEAL, Adam."

"Except where they seem to leave as much damage behind as she does."

"At least, we were there. Where the hell were you and the Marshal Service?" Kian stepped forward, moving in beside Blake. Ignoring the way she snapped her gaze to him. As if she hadn't expected him to take her side.

He gave her hand a squeeze, staying close enough Porter would know exactly where Kian stood. "You said this Russo guy had been running around free for seven hours before you finally rang her cell. Why didn't you call sooner? I mean, your agency is keeping tabs, right? Are actively looking for anything that might put the people under your care at risk? Or did you just dump her here, read off a laundry list of impossible rules when every damn person has a cell phone, these days, and hope for the best?"

Kian glanced at his crew, smiling inwardly when they all gave him a nod. Confirmation they were as invested as Kian and had no plans of standing down. "I want to know who this Russo asshole is, and why he's trying to kill Blake."

"And this is why we don't divulge names, Garrett." Porter gave Kian a once-over. "I assume you're Kian Fox." He made direct eye contact with Blake. "The boyfriend."

"What I am, is someone who gives a damn. So, we can either stand here and have a civil discussion about threat levels, next steps, and what you're going to do to ensure Blake's safety, or I can get my buddy Waylen to hack his way into whatever secure database we need to uncover it all for ourselves. Your choice… Marshal."

Blake tugged on his sleeve, looking as if she was about to cry as she shook her head. "Kian…"

"I understand why you had to keep everything secret. That it was for our protection as much as yours. But the secrecy stops, here. Your cover's blown, and the wolves are already at the door, sweetheart. So, talk to me. What happened?"

Blake pursed her lips, eyes glassy before she tiptoed up — gave him a gentle kiss. That kind that said she was already gone. She brushed her thumb along his jaw, forcing a smile. "I love that you want to help. I do. But if I leave now, there's a good chance Russo's men will follow. Take that bullseye off your back. Not that I want to go. I don't, but… I can't lose…"

She didn't finished, closing her eyes as her head drooped forward.

Kian tugged her against him. He knew she'd fight him. Not because she didn't think he could help, but because she cared. Didn't want him to get hurt.

He gave her a few minutes to collect herself, then eased back, tucking some of that silky hair behind her ear. "How about I make you a deal? You tell me about Russo, and I promise to back off if you leaving is the best option. Okay?"

She snorted, and he knew she'd figured him out. That there wasn't a chance in hell her leaving was ever going to be the best option.

Blake snagged her bottom lip — a rare moment when her bravado seemed to slip away. Left the vulnerable side of Blake standing there. "I…"

"How about I start?" Waylen looked up from the computer terminal he was seated at. Not that Kian had realized his buddy had sat down while they'd all been talking, but it made sense. "Russo. Henry James. Third generation mafia and head of one of the most notorious drug cartels in the Miami area. Suspected of drug trafficking, weapons dealing, and a large prostitution ring. Apparently both the FBI and the DEA had been trying to make a RICO case against his family for years, but couldn't get any traction. Then, two years ago, he was convicted of murdering three federal agents and is currently serving two consecutive life sentences at U.S. Penitentiary Coleman II."

Waylen arched a brow. "Seems they missed the part where he recently escaped his incarceration. And that's just a simple search. Imagine what I can uncover when I actually try."

Porter carded his fingers through his hair. Eyes narrowed. Lips pursed tight. "SEALs. I should have known you'd gravitate toward your own, Blake."

Waylen grinned at Blake. "So, you are ex-military. Just like Hawk thought."

Hawk held up his hands when Porter glared at him. "Don't put this on me. I simply said I would have guessed she was military based on her skill. It's not like you told me any details, either. Just that she was scary good in a cockpit and to note if anyone questionable came looking for her."

Porter didn't even try to avoid confirming it. "Her branch is technically sectioned under Homeland Security. But close enough."

Kian grinned. Now it all made sense. "Endeavor to do more."

Blake eased out of his arms, staring up at him. "What did you say?"

"It's what you said when I asked if you were still okay performing the rescue when that storm kicked up. Was tossing us all over the place. I didn't hear half of it because the headset cut out for a bit. But that's what it was. Endeavor to do more, rather than less. It's part of your creed."

Raider stepped forward. "Well, I'll be damned. You're a puddle pirate."

Blake laughed, then held her head high. "That's Lieutenant Commander Puddle Pirate to you, squid."

"Puddle pirate?" Presley stared at Blake, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. "You're Coast Guard?"

Blake merely nodded. "For fifteen years. Right out of college."

Raider chuckled. "Now, everything makes total sense because you Coasties are hands down, the craziest SOBs I've ever met. You actually capsize those self-righting boats just for the experience."

Blake smiled. "Learning not to panic takes practice."

"I'm familiar. Wait… I had a buddy who did some joint operational work with one of the Coast Guard's TACLET units…" He glanced at Presley. "It stands for Tactical Law Enforcement Teams. Anyway, he did a few tours and said there was this badass pilot who was so skilled, they all started calling her Crossroads. Was rescued, himself, by that very pilot one night in the midst of a storm with only a flashlight to signal the chopper. Against orders, no less."

Raider grinned. "I don't suppose that was you?"

Blake beamed. Actually beamed, and Kian knew this was the real Blake. Not the woman who'd given up everything in the name of justice. Who kept to herself. Stayed on the sidelines. But the one who'd dedicated her life to the service.

She glanced around, some of that tension easing from her shoulders. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought Waylen came up with that dumbass name, just like he did nicknaming Kian, Ancient. Damn thing stuck, too. Took me years to lose it."

"Ouch." Waylen placed his hand on his chest. "Just like a Coastie to go straight for the jugular."

Presley frowned, brows furrowed. "Why did they call you Crossroads?"

Raider laughed, again. Louder. Deeper. "Because they all figured she must have made a deal with the devil in order to get that good."

"You Navy jackasses are all the same." Blake shook her head. "And I did get a reprimand for that rescue. A permanent stain on my record, I believe the Navy commander said. My CO didn't care as much because he preferred doing the right thing rather than necessarily following the rules. And it wasn't as if that was my first reprimand. Or my last."

Presley walked over and gave Blake a light swat on her arm. "I can't believe you were former Coast Guard — Lieutenant Commander to boot — and never said anything."

"I couldn't say anything. That's the number one rule of WITSEC. Whoever I was before I arrived on the Big Island didn't exist, anymore."

"Which is why I never should have let you keep flying." Porter held up his hand. "I know. It's in your blood. It's also what might get you killed."

Kian scoffed. "Not on my watch. Now, back to Henry Russo."

Blake pursed her lips, again, most of the color draining from her face. And Kian didn't need to be a rescue combat medic to know the beginnings of a PTSD episode when he saw one.

He took the two steps separating them, drawing her against his side. "Breathe, sweetheart. Everything's going to be okay."

She nodded. Way too fast to be believable, but at least she took a few quick gasps. Didn't look as if she might pass out any second.

Porter sighed, leaning against the desk, again. "Fine. Broad strokes. Three years ago, Blake was working out of the Coast Guard station in Puerto Rico. She was returning from a rather involved search and rescue mission when she received a report of a vessel in distress not far from the San Juan base. She responded along with one of the vessels. Long story short, they intercepted a drug smuggling boat and managed to salvage it and its contents and crew before they were lost to an inbound storm. By the time they towed the damaged boat back to the port, the storm had increased to a potential typhoon, and Blake was forced to park on the helipad at the main base until the worst of the storm passed and she could safely reposition her machine back to the air station. Perhaps you should relay the rest, Blake."

Blake nodded, still looking like a fucking ghost. "I won't go into details, but we confiscated enough cocaine and meth to get all of Miami high, which is where the shipment was headed. Three DEA agents met a couple of the crew and were moving the crates into a storage facility so they could catalogue everything."

She paused to take a breath. "I had just secured the helicopter when I heard a series of dull pops. But with the wind and the rain, it was hard to place exactly what they were, so I decided to double check. I rounded the main building when everything went for shit. There were shots and shouts — engines revving followed by the sound of metal scraping along the pavement. I hit the lot at a full sprint but…"

She swallowed, coughed, then tried, again. "Christ, it was chaos. All the officers were down. There was blood everywhere. A bunch of perps dressed in black with body armor and assault rifles were fanned out across the asphalt while others loaded the drugs into a couple of SUVs. I don't even know how the vehicles got there. If they busted through the main gate or broke through the chain-link fencing. Then, this man steps forward — aims a gun at the downed men and…"

Her voice trailed off. Just faded into nothing as she stared at the floor, paler than before.

Kian squeezed her hand. "You didn't simply call it in and wait for backup, did you?"

"There wasn't any time to wait for backup. Not that it mattered. Three of the men still died and I…"

Porter blew out a raspy breath. "What Blake always neglects to relay is that, despite being outnumbered and outgunned, she took on the entire contingency of men. Alone. Got hit twice during her suicide race across the lot. But even wounded and bleeding, she managed to down four of Russo's men and provide life-saving first aid to two of the DEA officers when Russo's crew buggered off. We assume they thought Blake was the first of a contingency of officers headed their way. Unfortunately, the long-lasting effects from their injuries prevented the DEA agents from being able to testify."

Kian nodded, still holding Blake's hand. "But the man you saw kill those other officers was Henry Russo. And you testified against him."

A bit of color slashed across her cheeks. "The bastard murdered my teammates. Right there, in front of me. Of course, I testified against him. Wanted to burn his entire operation to the ground. Not that it turned out that way."

Porter shook his head. "We'd hoped that being on a secure base meant Blake would be safe from any kind of retaliation. But Russo's reach is ridiculously long, and after a couple failed attempts on her life that landed some of Blake's other crew members in the hospital, we had no other choice but to place her in protective custody until the trial was over. Even then, we moved her as often as we could, hoping the Russo family might lose interest. But that never happened, so I called in a favor with an ex-military buddy of mine. He works for Hank Patterson's Montana division. Hank was actually the one who suggested I place Blake in Hawai'i, and I agreed that it seemed removed enough we thought she'd be safe."

Kian glanced at Blake, noting how she looked everywhere but at them. "But you think this video brought them all here? Is the reason Russo busted out of jail? Even though it didn't even go viral?"

"Like I said. Russo's reach is ridiculously long. And now that I've seen that damn vlog? Hell, yeah. I think one of Henry's contacts saw it, reported it back to him, and the bastard manufactured a medical emergency so he could break out then come here and personally get his revenge. Which is why we need to go. Before they turn this whole island upside down."

"Go?" Kian was in Porter's face before the man could blink. "Go where?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

"But you're going to provide twenty-four-hour protection, right? A group of marshals in a safehouse until this bastard's caught and you dismantle his organization."

Porter didn't need to answer because Kian knew they were simply going to ditch her by the way the man's mouth twitched. How he glanced at Blake then back to him. "We have a system in place?—"

"Which is agent-speak for dumping her in some two-bit hotel and hoping Russo doesn't find her, again."

"I've got clearance to spend the next few days with her until we've got her new cover firmly established."

"A few days? Russo's still hunting her after three years and you think a few days of protection is what's going to be the difference, this time?"

Blake grabbed Kian's arm, pulling him back a step. "Kian. I know it sounds less than ideal, but the Marshal Service has thousands of witnesses they need to protect. Ones who haven't even gone to trial, yet. And all against men as dangerous as Russo. That's where they need to put their resources. My job's done. I just didn't realize he wasn't the only one getting life without the possibility of parole."

Porter scoffed. "Blake?—"

"Don't. I don't regret the choices I've made, but it's true."

"I wish there was another option?—"

"There is." Kian met Porter's narrowed gaze.

"What, you?"

"It's what we do."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Fox, but you're retired, and you don't even work for the Brotherhood Protectors."

Kian glanced at Hawk, raising a brow.

Hawk chuckled. "I've been meaning to have a formal chat with all of you about that. It just so happens, I'm in need of a team. And since Lane's on overwatch, maybe you'd like to speak for your crew, Kian? Let me know if the five of you would consider joining."

Kian looked around the room, grinning at the nods his teammates gave him. Not that they hadn't already been discussing it, but Blake's situation had definitely brought everything to a head. "We'd love to." Kian focused on Porter, again. "There, now we do."

"Mr. Fox?—"

"That's Lieutenant Fox, U.S. Navy, retired, Deputy Marshal Porter."

"I don't care how you phrase it, this isn't a joke. If you get involved, and I mean really involved, Russo will target you and anyone remotely close to you, too. The man's a monster."

"Then, I guess it's a good thing we've all spent the past twenty years dealing with those."

"Kian." Blake pulled away, taking a moment to look at each of his buddies. "I can't ask you to do this. Adam's right. Russo's crazy. We got lucky at the clinic. We won't get lucky, again."

He took a breath, letting everything settle. Especially when after hearing the story, he had a nagging suspicion Russo's men were there to grab her, not kill her. That they were gunning for him and Lane because Kian bet his ass Russo wanted to finish this personally. "We don't need luck."

"And if he hurts Presley? Or Cassie?"

"We'll keep them out of the picture until we get a handle on how this is going to play out. What kind of resistance we're facing."

"What we're facing is an endless army of mafia henchmen. It's like that creature where you cut off one head and two more grow back. You said you'd let me go if leaving was the best option."

"Yes, I did. And if Porter can look me in the eyes and swear you're going back into full lockdown until they either catch Russo's ass or put him in the ground, then I'll help you pack your bags." Kian paused to meet Porter's gaze. "But he can't, and you being without backup, whether it's in Seattle, Tulsa, or fucking Anchorage is not the best option under any circumstance."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Waylen pushed his way forward, stopping beside Kian and Blake. "This isn't about best options or protocol. This is about my best friend being stupid in love with you, Blake, and not wanting to lose you. So, either tell him you don't feel the same, and never could, or put the man out of his misery and accept our help. Your move."