Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Emerson Payne

Scenario:

You meet a couple Army-dropout twin brothers from Tennessee in a bar. You get to talking over a few pints, and they express their frustrated desire for adventure and danger. You see something in them. Strength, potential, brains. Especially the quiet twin. He's a bloody genius. Calculating as fuck for his young age. The talker is sharp, creative, and just reckless enough. They wanna get out. They wanna see the world. And you're drunk. You take them under your wing, and you start putting them through the same selection process that once made you a Special Forces operator.

Months later, you figure it's time to give the boys a reward before they reach the next step in their training, so you head toward your cabin in the Appalachians for a relaxing weekend with no one around for miles. No TV, no news, a break from the headlines about whether the president has or has not had sexual relations with that woman. It's a perfect day. Sky's blue, summer's almost here, roadside flowers are in bloom, the mountains surround you like majestic guardians, and you roll down your window to hear the forest sounds, to hear the gravel crunch under the tires of your truck. But then you see something just off the side of the road.

Smoke?

I slowed to a stop and furrowed my brow. "Wait here, boys." I got out of the truck and glanced around me. If someone had thrown a cigarette out here… But as I got closer, it looked like a small flare or something that just puffed out white smoke.

I squatted down in front of it. No smell. There was a note, and I picked it up.

Where there's smoke, Emerson George Payne…

I shot straight up and felt the tiny hairs rise on my arms and neck. Birds were chirping, insects were buzzing, I didn't hear any branches breaking or the underbrush rustling. Was someone watching? If they were, they'd been perched someplace for a while. Possibly. Fuck.

Determining that the smoke wasn't gonna cause a fire, I made my way back to the truck and tore up the dirt road. Get out of whoever's line of sight. It had to be a prank, right? I knew too many guys who could be behind something like this, and at least half a dozen of them had been to my cabin.

"Somethin' wrong?" Reese asked from the back seat.

"I'm ninety percent sure it's not." I drove around the next bend, where the climb began.

"And the other ten?" he pressed.

I raked my teeth along my bottom lip. "Do you need your brother to extrapolate for you, Reese?"

He sucked his teeth and shut his mouth.

Kids.

Sometimes they acted much older than their twenty years.

Not always.

A flash of neon orange caught my eye, and I slowed down once more. Okay, something was up. Who knew I was coming here this weekend? My sister, my brother. And Robin, but she didn't know the location.

"Is that a note on the tree?" Reese wondered.

"I'm about to find out. Stay here." I jumped out of the truck, keeping an eye on my surroundings, and made quick work of crossing the road and trailing down into the ditch where I could reach the piece of paper. Where was the nearest Xerox place? This was printed.

Emerson George Payne. Father, American diplomat. Mother, schoolteacher from London. Two brothers, one sister, two older than you. Eldest brother passed away in 1985. Younger brother enlisted four years after you.

I clenched my jaw and crumpled the note in my hand. Make that seventy-five percent sure nothing was wrong.

Not many had that much information on me—for a fucking reason. Before I'd joined the Army, I'd taken my mum's surname to distance myself from my old man's history, part of which was public record. At that point, I'd already had my sights set on the SAS. I'd wanted a new identity.

Returning to the truck once more, I told the boys we were on foot from here on out. Just to err on the safe side. If someone was feeding me information about myself, they wanted my attention. It was highly unlikely I'd be taken out from the road, in other words, but if we had someone waiting for us at the cabin, I didn't want them to see us coming.

"Leave your bags for now, and listen to me carefully."

While the boys disappeared into the forested mountainside, I stayed on the left side of the dirt road, some ten feet into the woods, where I could still see in case there were additional messages.

I found the third one a couple minutes later.

Emerson George Payne. 6'5", 220 lbs, 40 years old, brown hair, blue eyes. Noticeable markings: 4-inch scar on your neck after an encounter with a broken glass bottle, poorly healed gunshot wound on left-side rib cage. Quick question. How do you identify an SAS operator? By the tattoos he doesn't have and the intel he doesn't share.

Who was this motherfucker?

I gnashed my teeth and continued the trek up the mountain, disturbing the thick underbrush as I went. Between trees, around boulders, over logs—until I spotted a fourth note.

Born in London but spent your school years in DC. Moved back to London after your dad died, and rather than continuing your studies, you enlisted. At 22, you left the Army and became an SAS operator. The next time you appear in any records, you're on a training mission with the US Green Berets. You're under contract as a civilian consultant, but we know there's nothing civilian about you, Emerson George Payne.

My mind raced to find clues in the information, and I picked up the pace. With a trained eye, you could get my stats by looking at me. I wasn't precisely 220 pounds, but I'd been thereabouts throughout my adult life. They'd nicknamed me Big Yankee in the Army—not very creative—because of my height and my American upbringing. Whoever this was used a language—and had access to certain intel—that made me think he himself was military.

I had no reason to believe it was a woman.

Outside my work, I only socialized with a small group of people. We went to an underground BDSM club sometimes, and they sure as fuck didn't know any of this about me. Robin knew I was former military, that was all.

I estimated I had maybe half a klick left to my cabin when I spotted yet another message. I jogged over to the tree and grabbed the note, and the first thing I saw was a doodling of two arrows crossing. The insignia of the US Army Special Forces.

I remember a story you told us once. You were in Baghdad when the bombs dropped in '91. Over the course of 100 hours, we showed the world our technological prowess, from the GPS-guided missiles to the F-117 stealth fighter, and yet, all you talked about were the dogs that barked on the streets of Baghdad right before the bombs started falling. Do you hear any dogs barking now, Emerson George Payne?

This punk was toying with me. I'd told that story countless times in the last four years alone. But all right then, at least we could narrow things down further. This guy was likely a Green Beret, which meant he was highly trained and skilled. Had I pissed such blokes off? Damn right. They brought me in for my perspective, whether I stayed a week, a month, or just over a day, and I made their lives a living hell.

If I met one hundred of them in a year, seventy-five hated my guts.

I started running through the woods.

Someone was holding a grudge, which made shit more unpredictable. Because I hadn't gone in as a consultant in the last twelve months. I didn't get involved in official military business anymore. The private sector had sucked me in full-time.

I hauled in a breath and jumped over a fallen tree, and then I could see smoke in the distance. A familiar sight from hundreds of hikes in the area. The smoke was coming from the chimney of my cabin. Someone was there, and they didn't mind my knowing that fact.

At least he didn't wanna kill me. He would've done it already. No, he had some other problem with me.

I reached the end of the dirt road and found a big tree I could stay semi-hidden behind. From there, I could see most of my property. I had a sad excuse for an orchard on the other side of the cabin. And an outhouse. Otherwise, this was it. The cabin was right on the lake, with the wraparound porch extending past the water's edge. A one-story log cabin with the kitchen and living room area forming an L around the bedroom. The back of the cabin had two windows River and Reese could use to enter?—

Movement caught my eye, and I watched a man trail along the porch, coming from around the bend, and he was cutting something—an apple. I zeroed in on his face as he lifted an apple wedge onto the blade and brought it to his mouth.

I knew him from somewhere, definitely. He fit the bill of the hundreds of young soldiers I'd encountered over the years. Midtwenties, fit. Average height. Swimmer's build. Dressed in Army greens and a black tee. Boots. Maybe he wasn't currently active—and hadn't been in a while? He'd let his dirty-blond hair grow out.

I narrowed my eyes. I remembered him. Fuck me, it couldn't be. He'd given me a daily fucking headache with his temper—and it'd frustrated me because he'd been able to reel it in when it mattered. He knew just when to get into trouble without taking heat for it. Pub fights, trash talk, even petty theft. He'd performed so damn well that his superiors had looked the other way.

He hadn't merely been the top-of-his-class type of candidate. He'd pushed the envelope throughout his assessment and selection. He was a reluctant leader who roared at his fellow candidates to go further. He left no man behind—but he could be a goddamn dick before and after.

I'd read every single file about this boy.

Under different circumstances, I would've been anything but professional. He had a killer smile and dimples to go with it. Giant ego—but well-earned. Fluent in four languages, had already seen more of the world than most of his peers, and he was easily the best soldier his age I'd come across, excelling in everything they threw at him. Direct action, counterinsurgency, special recon, unconventional warfare… He'd made it through my resistance-to-interrogation training without a moment's thought of surrender, despite his enraged outbursts.

He'd also been murderous when I'd put them through the SAS Endurance and I'd finished before him.

He wasn't all skills and perfection, though. Far from it. He was his own worst enemy, and…I was starting to suspect that was why he was here. Trouble had caught up to him, hadn't it?

It would fit his profile somewhat if he'd found a way to blame me. There were exceptions, because?—

"There's no reason to hide from me, Payne."

My mouth twitched. Still sharp as a tack. Always on high alert without looking the part. He sat down on the wide log rails that framed the porch, ballsy enough to keep his back to me.

"You don't have to worry—I'm not gonna kill you," he said.

Cocky little son of a bitch. Some things never changed.

Having no reason to hide anymore, I stepped out of the woods and adjusted my gun at the base of my spine. Now it was no longer about possibly having to use it, and all about not wanting him to see it. He'd find a way to mock me for it. That was his way.

As I headed up the porch steps, he pointed his blade at the kitchen window.

"I don't know if it's Twin One or Twin Two, but I can see their shadow over the stove."

I suppressed a sigh.

"The other one's underneath the porch," he added dismissively. "He might wanna dry his feet. It's gonna be chilly tonight."

I clasped my hands behind my back and stepped into his line of sight, keeping the front door behind me. "Danny Rose."

He grinned and widened his arms. "You remember me."

Yup, still that killer smile with the dimples. Dangerously gorgeous blue eyes too.

I nodded with a dip of my chin, then eyed the floorboards. "Boys, you can come out. It was less exciting than a prank."

I heard some shuffling on the other side of the door and a twig or two breaking underneath the porch. Soon after, the Tenley twins joined me on the porch and looked at Danny with shuttered expressions.

Danny finished his apple and jumped to his feet, then extended his hand to Reese. "I guess Payne has forgotten his manners. I'm Danny—and I already know who you are. But which one is which?"

I cleared my throat and kept quiet. No reason to tell Danny I was making Reese wear a dark tee every day and River a light. There was seriously no other way to tell them apart. They were carbon copies, with copper-brown hair, sharp features, and striking green eyes. They had some height on Danny, but they shared his swimmer's build. Or runner's, maybe.

"Reese." Reese shook Danny's hand. "How do you know who we are?"

Good question.

I folded my arms over my chest.

"How about we trade?" Danny suggested. "I ask a question, and you answer. Then you can ask me something."

Technically, that'd already happened. He'd asked who was Reese and who was River.

Not that it mattered. "No," I replied. "I ask the questions—you answer. Or you get off my property."

He stared at me.

This was one of the fields in which Danny didn't belong. He wasn't a gray man. He didn't necessarily stand out, but there was nothing ordinary about him either. His expression often revealed his mood, his stubbornness, and how much left he had on his fuse.

I showed fuck-all.

"I feel like I have a lot to bargain with," he hedged, returning his knife to its sheath. "Don't you wanna know how I got all that info on you?"

Yes, but not at any cost. Not enough to give him leverage. And to be honest, I had my guesses. Considering he'd dug out my history and probably knew the names of my siblings, chances were he'd gone through my sister somehow. She was a sociable woman who would share her life story with the person standing behind her in the line at the grocery store.

If that were the case, I'd have a whole other bone to pick with Danny.

He wasn't the type to break eye contact. Instead, he flashed his palms in surrender and switched tactics. "Fine. I heard through the grapevine that you were training a pair of twin brothers who'd recently quit the Army."

Hmm. Plausible. I probably had a friend who knew a friend of his and so on. For as great as we were at keeping shit to ourselves, we were masters at sharing insignificant gossip. Veterans who loved to vent were a dime a dozen, and I'd been in the game long enough to admit I was one of them. So while I never shared personal information, pour me a pint and I could tell anyone about Belize, Baghdad, and Bosnia.

Twin brothers with great potential who left the Army right after finishing boot camp were, on the other hand, not a dime a dozen. Couldn't have taken Danny long to find out who they were.

I accepted his response and dug out my car keys, and I handed them to Reese. "Go get the truck. I've promised you beer and steaks."

"Yes, sir."

The twins jogged down the porch steps.

In the meantime, Danny and I maintained eye contact.

"Nice. Send away the kids so you and I can be alone…" He winked.

Cute.

The answer to my next question would determine if I let Danny stay for dinner.

"Have you been in contact with any of my family members?" I asked.

A man with honor wouldn't cross that line unless they were bringing home very bad news.

"Yes," Danny replied bluntly.

I clenched my jaw, anger welling up inside me, and I let my arms drop again. That was un-fucking-acceptable. "If you went anywhere near my sister, my nieces or nephews?—"

"Oh, calm yourself, man." He eased back to sit on the railing again. "I reached out to your brother. Soldier-to-soldier, you know? One of your buddies in the US knew him too, and Arden was a lot easier to find. Turns out he and I have something in common." He scratched his nose and smirked. "Once I told him my plan, he was more than happy to give me all the info I wanted."

I composed my face, but on the inside, I was fucking reeling. Was Danny even telling the truth? I couldn't always tell with my brother. Arden could surprise me—and he was currently not very happy with my "life choices." So it all depended on what this plan of Danny's was. It had to be one hell of a plan for Arden to give an Emerson 101 to a stranger.

Regardless of how badly I needed a weekend away from everything, I was driving my ass back into town to the nearest pay phone.

"The hardest part, really, was to pin down your identity," Danny said. "Took me a fuckin' year. 'Cause we never knew anything beyond Emerson Payne, a name that comes up absolutely nowhere—and what I presume is a fake rank. You're not actually a captain, are you?"

I wasn't anything anymore. I'd gone private.

"The SAS ranks look a little different…" He eyed me pensively. "But now you're at the Hillcroft Group in DC."

Jesus .

I could admit, that took me aback. He knew the bloody agency I worked for? If Arden had told him that , he and I were gonna have a serious problem.

Now I had to know. "What is it that you want, Danny?"

His eyes lit up. "Now, that's a good question. For starters, I wanna be invited for beer and steaks. I already went through the effort and got you a fire started in the living room. Brought in fresh spring water too."

I nodded and rubbed my jaw. "Right—thanks for trespassing and breaking in to my cabin."

He'd been here long enough to find my map of the springs in the area. I kept it in a drawer.

He pursed his lips. "Can it be considered trespassing if the place has no electricity or running water?"

I didn't respond. I was in no mood to play games.

"Wait—I have a better question." He got up and walked toward me, a little too close for comfort. He stopped right before his chest could touch mine, and he peered up at me. "Are you fucking the twins?"

I felt my jaw tick, and he fucking noticed. Typical Danny—he loved shock value, and he could go to great lengths to get a reaction.

Safe to say, I didn't answer. I didn't even know what River and Reese were into, though I had my guesses. Either way, I didn't shit where I ate.

Danny wasn't done pushing. He took another step forward and pissed me off when he leaned in and grazed his nose along my jaw.

"Are they het or don't-ask-don't-tell?" he murmured. "Never mind. Your brother is better at giving answers—about the man who matters anyway. I asked, and he told. Or confirmed, rath?—"

That's fucking it.

I couldn't bloody help myself. He got to me. So I spun on him. In a fraction of a second, I grabbed him by his throat, knocked the knife out of his sheath and onto the floorboards, then shoved him up against the door and towered over him.

"Let's make one thing crystal clear, boy. If you don't want me to physically remove you from my sight, you think long and hard about the next word that comes out of your mouth."

He sucked in a sharp breath, then promptly swallowed hard, which I felt under my grip. His eyes had gone wide, and it was too late for him to conceal his shock.

Good to know he wasn't completely unfazed.

He still composed himself quickly, but I detected something in his gaze. Apprehension, maybe. He was gonna think twice about pushing the envelope, at least.

"I'll behave," he rasped.

Fuck.

Those words.

I clenched my jaw.

I'll behave.

A rush of heat rolled through me. Maybe through him too. Or I was imagining it. Fuck . No. Back off. I backed off, rattled and irritated, and put some distance between us. Whatever I'd felt was gone. It'd been nothing.

He coughed and eyed me.

"How long have you been searching for me?" I demanded.

He didn't answer at first, though he better fucking know my patience for bullshit was nonexistent. I wanted to know how…dedicated he was.

"On and off for two years. In between deployments."

Bloody hell, that was some grudge—or whatever the hell he'd sought me out for. Unless my memory was shot, I'd spent two months with his team approximately two years ago. One Special Forces ODA was just twelve men strong, each team member specialized in their own way, resulting in more time one-on-one. A stark contrast from when the military brought me in to speak at a seminar to a whole battalion over a week. The two months I'd stayed with Danny's detachment, we'd seen each other almost every day. We'd camped out in the field together, shared most meals together, and I'd been there for every time he lashed out.

"A year to find a single person who would confirm your identity and give me something else to go on," he elaborated. "A couple months after that, I was introduced to Kane Goddard." He shrugged. "Once you know the language, you understand what's being said on the grapevine."

Kane. I'll be damned. Another former SAS operator who'd trained in the US. And he knew my brother as well. So that was the link. He would never give anything up about me , but sure, he might've let Danny know how to get into contact with Arden.

"And now you've left the Army," I stated.

"About a year ago, yeah. Why? Does that bother you?" he countered.

Absofuckinglutely, it did. At least when he was surrounded by his team members, he had a better chance at surviving. They complemented one another. Had one another's backs. Out on his own, however…? Fuck. I worried he would go private.

If he did, it'd be my fucking fault.

"You do whatever the fuck you want with your life." Needing time to get my shit together, I walked away from him and headed to the other side of the cabin. I kept my grill and patio furniture stashed there.

First things first. I didn't want more information from Danny until I'd spoken to Arden. I needed it to get a better read on Danny's responses and expressions. In other words, soon as the twins returned, I was heading back to town.

While I waited, I hauled the grill and the Adirondack chairs to the front corner of the porch where I had more space. I also racked my brain for what stories I'd shared with Danny and his team. I knew I'd made at least one mistake, and I believed it could be the reason he was here now. Truth be told, there could be several reasons, and I had to make plans for them all.

One, he was angry. They didn't bring me in to be nice. I'd trained soldiers to become better at surviving and giving nothing away. And I'd been hard on Danny. Really fucking hard. Because he had that temper—and I'd rather be the one who pushed him in his place than have some terrorist in a godforsaken country behead him.

Two, he wanted to prove himself. I'd never met anyone as competitive as Danny Rose. It wouldn't shock me if he wanted to challenge me in some way.

Three, he could be jealous. Though, that wouldn't have been his original reason for looking me up. But once he'd learned enough about me and he'd discovered I was training the twins, that could very well have fueled him. Which led me to the fourth possibility.

Four, he wanted to go private.

We'd gone off the grid one week. Nowhere near Fort Campbell and everything they were familiar with, we'd hiked in northern Canada's interior. Through snow and rough terrain, with little food and resources, heavy backpacks. The soldiers had been pushed to the limits and beyond. They'd been exhausted, mentally wrung out, and starving. So the other two superiors and I had surprised them after a ten-mile trek. We'd prepared a better camp upon their return. Proper tents, roaring fire to heat them up, dry clothes, coffee, rabbit stew, cornbread, and whisky.

A part of Special Forces training was to see how soldiers reacted to rewards. If it weakened their resolve, if they were simply happy, if it kept them on edge, if they relaxed and lowered their guards…

Danny didn't trust easily. A great thing in the field—but emotionally draining. He'd eaten and taken advantage like the rest of his team, with the exception that he'd remained guarded. Observant. Quiet, even.

We had shared stories with the boys. Stories of battles, operations, experiences. It was always a good way to connect with soldiers, to tie stronger bonds. And since I was the anomaly in the American military with my British history, the soldiers soaked up my tales that differed from the others' in some ways.

One story, in particular, had?—

"Are you gonna kick me out?"

I set down the last Adirondack chair with the other three. "No."

He'd gone to all that trouble of ambushing us and catching me off guard, showcasing his prowess, and with that one little question, he put his vulnerability on display too. It didn't matter he was making sure to look aloof; he didn't want to be rejected. He'd invested too much time and energy in finding me.

I heard the approach of a vehicle and walked past him to trail down the porch steps as my truck came into view.

Reese parked a few feet away and killed the engine. Both twins climbed out, and Reese tossed me the keys.

"New plan," I said. "I have an errand to run?—"

"He's gonna call his brother," Danny laughed.

I threw him a glance over my shoulder. "Pipe down." I was in no mood.

He piped down and stayed on the porch.

I faced the twins again. "I'll be back in two hours. I want dinner ready by then. Grab the groceries from the bed of the truck and make sure everything that needs to be refrigerated is sealed properly. You'll find a crayfish cage behind the cabin. Put the groceries in there and lower it into the lake. The cooler with the ice block goes under the kitchen counter inside—that's for our beer. Steak, baked potatoes, salad. I want mine medium-rare. Tinfoil and briquettes in the utility dresser right inside the cabin. But before I go, let's do a pocket-litter check."

"Yes, sir." The boys came over to me and began emptying their pockets.

I heard Danny take a couple steps down the porch. He was curious.

I inspected Reese's handful. Small pocketknife, an old movie stub, matches, bubblegum-flavored gum, a receipt… I picked it up and unfolded it, then nodded in satisfaction. Receipts were good. He'd bought milk, nail polish remover, and eggs. Perfect list for a kid running out to buy things his mother had forgotten. Last but not least, a crumpled five-dollar bill and… Hm. A hockey trading card.

"The trading card is a bit much, but you pass," I replied. "You don't want it to look like you're trying too hard. Great initiative on the receipt, though. That's the sort of thing that will build up a profile. Good job. You can clear out the truck."

"The receipt was River's idea, but thanks." He stuffed his pockets again and tore up the trading card on his way back to the truck.

I studied River's pocket litter next. He also had a small folding knife. A pack of cigarettes. A receipt for just enough gas to stay within town limits for a day—excellent detail. We could find out a lot about people based on how much gas they put in their vehicles. Half-eaten Twizzler, a note that read… I tilted my head and smirked. Pick up Lily at five . Perfect.

"Good job." I nodded firmly.

"Thank you." He went to join his brother.

I turned to Danny and raised a brow.

Let's see how you react…

"Show me your pockets," I requested.

He wasn't surprised by the question, just annoyed. "I wasn't prepared."

"You're supposed to be prepared around the clock. Come on, let me see." I motioned him closer.

He sighed and walked over to me.

I held out a hand, and he started dropping items into it. Lighter, multitool, a $200 folding knife, two batteries, wallet with his driver's license and approximately four hundred bucks, and he unstrapped the bloody Yarborough knife he kept in his belt…

I added my other hand too, because he wasn't done.

Matches, a utility kit, first aid, fishing line, some quarters, a cell phone, a small notebook, and a pen.

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. First time I'd seen him mildly embarrassed today.

"If you wound up dead, the police would reach out to the nearest Army base," I said. "Except—they wouldn't have to, considering you've got all your identification on you." I handed back all his shit, and he dropped his precious knife in the process. "That knife alone screams Special Forces."

Meanwhile, if the police—or an enemy—found River and Reese, dead or alive, they wouldn't be so quick to figure out their background. They might think River had a little sister or a girlfriend named Lily. They might think Reese was picking up groceries for his mum. No matter what, their first guess would never be that the twins were private military contractors in the making, who sure as hell didn't have any siblings—or parents, for that matter. As far as I knew, they only had a grandmother they cared for.

"I'll be back in two hours," I repeated. "Don't kill each other."