Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

" I t's so good to see you again, honey," Loretta said. "That's smart—enjoy the area before the tourist season really kicks in."

I chuckled and finished my last piece of cake right there at the register in her shop. She always kept one of those cakes in her freezer for when I stopped by. The town knew her as the lovely lady who had an answer for every question. If you were lost, if you were looking for recommendations, if you wanted a wildlife guide, if you wanted to fish or hunt, you came to Loretta's souvenir shop on Main Street.

She lived in the apartment above the shop and missed having someone to dote on. All three of her boys were in the military. Luckily, she had a handful of grandkids to spoil—and me, when I was in town.

This cake. Fucking hell. Some sort of dense, rich Bundt cake with vanilla and cardamom. With a sugar-butter crust on top. Amazing.

"I'm not saying I'll be back tomorrow, but…" Chef's kiss . I slid the empty plate and fork over the counter.

She laughed softly. "Don't you worry—there's more cake in the freezer. Stop by any time, Emerson."

I grinned and pretended to clutch my heart. "You're the only woman for me, Loretta."

She found that funny. "Oh, get out of here. I hope your brother answers the phone now."

"Yes, ma'am," I chuckled.

The bell above the door dinged as I stepped out again, and I walked right into the phone booth for the second time in twenty minutes. Arden hadn't picked up the first time.

The prick couldn't avoid me forever. I knew he was at Clara Hill. He had to be. He even worked from there these days, despite he had his old office in Pittsburgh.

In another life, maybe I would've been part of the group who'd bought the old estate. It was certainly beautiful. They had a few acres all to themselves, with Clara Hill at the center. I loved to visit in the autumn. When the forest around them was ablaze in reds and oranges.

On the other hand, I'd never been a big fan of dog and pony shows, and Clara Hill took BDSM communities to a whole new level. The members who dedicated themselves to it actually lived on the estate twenty-four seven.

I'd once introduced Arden to BDSM, and he'd taken the idea and run with it. He'd gone all in. He'd never been interested in coming with me to smaller clubs and get-togethers. He wanted the lifestyle.

"Answer, you bloody fucking—" I stopped and huffed a breath. He was gonna try to dodge me altogether, wasn't he? He wasn't daft. He would know I'd come for him. That I would want answers.

Then, fucking finally, I heard his voice.

"Arden Sinclair speaking."

"You absolute git—why the fuck would you give my information to Danny Rose? Are you dead from the neck up, mate?"

"Ah, big brother. I was waiting for you to call."

"Then you should've waited closer to the phone," I growled.

He chuckled. "I take it he paid you a visit at the cabin."

"Paid me a visit?" I echoed incredulously. "He turned it into an ambush game and was already there when I arrived with the twins."

That was somehow even funnier to my brother. "Amazing. I've only met him once, and I'm already an admirer of that boy."

That boy.

I didn't understand Arden sometimes, which was how it'd been all our lives. Nine times out of ten, he was calm, predictable, methodical, and composed. Then there was that tenth time. It was how he'd once ended up taking a sabbatical in Spain, how he'd joined the Army, how he'd started a kink community, and how they now had a sanctuary on their grounds for exotic pets that'd been released into the wild.

It became my problem when the pet was Danny Rose and the wild was my property.

"So you met face-to-face," I stated. "Please tell me he came to your office in Pittsburgh."

"Nope. He knocked on the door right here."

At Clara fucking Hill.

Danny had hinted at knowing all sorts of shit about me. Did he know I was gay? That I was into BDSM too?

Neither was anything I was ashamed of, whatsoever, but it was private intel, goddammit. Just because I was no longer in the service didn't mean I couldn't get into trouble for being homosexual. Arden should fucking know that. He was bi, himself.

"Tell me everything you divulged," I said. I didn't reveal I was thoroughly pissed off, but my voice brooked no argument. No more games. I was done.

He cleared his throat and sobered. "First of all, I didn't tell him anything until I had confirmed everything he'd told me . Give me some credit, Em. I'm not heartless—nor was I born yesterday. You were, and always will be, my priority in these matters."

Those last few words loosened a bit of the tension in my shoulders.

"Go on."

"Before I do," he replied, "you're in the phone booth outside Loretta's shop, yes?"

I furrowed my brow. "Yeah?"

"Good. I'm faxing over Danny's files to you," he went on. "You'll want a refresher, I'm sure."

Okay, sure, yes, probably. "Does he know about this?"

"No. I've conducted my own research, of course," he answered. In short, he'd called Kane… "Danny asked for three things, Emerson. Your whereabouts this weekend, confirmation about your current employer, and your family status. He had guesses for the last two already."

That bothered me. Not many knew I worked at Hillcroft, but sure, after a certain number of missions, rumors and whispers got around within our field.

At least it was no secret I was single and had no children.

I wondered idly why Danny cared.

"In return, he was willing to give me three pieces of information about himself," Arden went on. "Access to his initial file in the Army—Kane provided more than that, though nothing you haven't already had access to yourself—his criminal record, and his reason for wanting to find you."

I scrubbed a hand over my mouth as my mind began racing. Granting Arden access to files and records was a bold move by Danny, because he knew that meant others could dig further. Danny accepted that. As for his reason for wanting to find me…? He could easily feed my brother bullshit. At the same time, if I ended up dead, Danny would be the immediate prime suspect.

His criminal records didn't contain anything exciting. Unless he'd done something after getting out of the Army. I remembered petty theft, though those charges had been dropped. He'd been arrested a few times for assault too. Once because he'd rammed his forehead up a club bouncer's nose, a couple times because he'd fought geezers who'd gotten handsy with their girlfriends after too much alcohol, and… I'd forgotten one or two.

"Anything else?" I asked tiredly.

"Yes," Arden said. "Danny is angry, and he is lost. That's why I agreed to his terms, because I believe he'll find what he's looking for with you."

I narrowed my eyes. "I already know what he's looking for. He left the Army to go private." I was more convinced than ever. At least, that was one of the reasons. "He wants me to train him, all because I was just drunk enough to share a story about when I did an extraction in Saudi Arabia."

Drunk was a strong word, but my tongue had been too loose. I'd been warmed up by fire, dry clothes, and whisky after a frigid week of training. So rather than telling the story as if it were a mate of mine who'd experienced Saudi Arabia—like I usually did, because my goal was obviously to keep these soldiers in the goddamn Army, not to recruit them to PMC groups—I'd slipped and made it about myself.

The day after, Danny had started asking questions.

I'd shot him down every time.

Arden hummed. "You've shared more than that, I'm afraid. Danny overheard you on the phone once."

What?

" What ?"

"We won't get into that." He turned dismissive. "He just told me you were on the phone once, outside the barracks or something to that effect, and he overheard a conversation. You'll have to ask him the details. He must've misunderstood something."

I wanted to call bullshit right then and there. While the rest of the world was moving on and buying into this cell phone hype, I only used mine in emergencies—if I even remembered it. Every call I'd made from Fort Campbell had either been from an office or the phones in the yard, and you didn't accidentally overhear anything there. You eavesdropped like a sneak.

I had no recollection of any personal calls, though. To be frank, I didn't have much of a social life.

"So you're telling me that's all he knows about me," I said. "My family status, my position at Hillcroft, and the location of my cabin."

"I didn't say that," he responded. "That's all he asked of me . He definitely knows more."

I groaned in frustration and pinched the bridge of my nose. Yeah, of-fucking-course. I'd read the damn notes earlier.

"I have a conference call in ten minutes, Em. Remember to pick up the files at Loretta's—and two more things. Go easy on Danny. He's more than a hardened Green Beret."

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. "And the second thing?"

"It's more of a suggestion, really," he said conversationally. "But try to read his file from another perspective. Less stone-faced, devoid of emotion, SAS operator and more…oh, I don't know, loving, caring, nurturing Daddy Dom."

What the fuck?

Before I could even respond, he hung up on me.

"What the fuck ?" I stared at the phone.

Why would I read Danny's file as a?—

And for the fucking record, I wasn't stone-faced or devoid of emotion. The sheer balls on my brother sometimes— Christ . Wait, as a Daddy Dom? Hell, my mind was fucked. And that wasn't my kink. I was the one who fucked cute boys up in the head, if they were into that sort of thing. I didn't appreciate having it done to myself. I also didn't appreciate putting Danny in those Little shoes. He didn't need a Daddy Dom. Did he? Why would he? Nothing about him screamed Little. Or Middle, for that matter. It was a whole spectrum, but I couldn't imagine…

Fuck.

I banged my head against the wheel.

Ten minutes till dinner was ready back at the cabin.

I'd pulled my truck over by the side of the dirt road. Not far away from where I'd found the first of Danny's damn notes earlier today.

He wasn't supposed to take up so much space in my brain, that kid. Last time we'd seen each other, he'd been one of twelve young men. I'd studied his information in bursts here and there over the course of two months. Now I'd gotten my refresher, a crash-course reminder, in half an hour. Official records, notes taken by superiors and Army medical personnel, my own evaluation notes… Like all soldiers, he'd had to sit down with counselors at some point or another. Before deployments, after, during regular checkups, and so on.

Daniel Rose. Twenty-eight years old. 5'10". Born in Fayetteville, Arkansas, but grew up primarily outside Tulsa. Two long-term deployments before he'd begun his training to become a Green Beret. After that… Jesus. Of course, with his having been part of one of the most decorated groups of the Special Forces, based in Kentucky these days, I'd always known his deployments would take him to some of the world's most dangerous places. He wasn't sitting on some base in Germany. The 5th group sent their detachments to the Middle East, Central Asia, and the Horn of Africa.

Danny's list of missions was impressive, and most were classified.

I wanted to punch my brother in the face.

I was a goddamn professional. I was supposed to read Danny's file and be proud. I was proud. I'd told other soldiers about him; I'd shared stories about Danny's impressive skills and accomplishments, obviously leaving out the shit that grated on my nerves. But now, Arden had tugged on the strings of another side of me, one I didn't unleash in a work environment.

I leaned back in my seat and scrubbed my hands over my face.

Danny hadn't waved goodbye to a loving mum and dad when he'd decided to enlist. He'd escaped. I mean, I remembered a "broken background." He wasn't the only soldier to replace a shitty family with military structure.

I just wished I didn't have to jog my memory of the details.

His father had never been around. His mother had been an alcoholic who'd brought around a series of abusive stepfathers. More than one counselor in the Army had expressed concerns about Danny's violent upbringing.

The boy had dropped out of school at fifteen to support his mother. To make rent. To keep from tripping CPS's radar. He'd forged signatures and been caught with fake IDs—not to buy booze, but to cover his mum's reckless spending and addictions.

At eighteen, he'd gotten his GED, despite it all. He must've been preparing for said escape.

Old hospital records revealed frequent trips for busted lips, cut eyebrows, bruises, and minor fractures. That was from when he was ten years old, eleven, twelve, thirteen…

It was fucking tragic. I'd been one of his superiors who'd remarked on his field-medicine skills. And no fucking wonder. He'd been patching himself up for years.

Arden was wrong about one thing, though. I hadn't read all of this before. I'd known the gist; I'd read some of the concerns, some of the charges, some of the evaluation notes. I sure as fuck hadn't known just how alone Danny was, or the extent to which he'd been abused and mistreated.

He literally had no listed family. No emergency contact.

During some of the therapy sessions, they'd talked about an old social studies teacher who'd let Danny sleep on his couch sometimes. A Mr. Chavez who'd been "real nice."

How the fuck could I return to the cabin and treat Danny like a soldier?

How could I sit down and eat dinner with him and tell him he should take his ass back to Kentucky and beg them to let him back in the Army?

The armed forces had been a massive part of my life. But I'd also had loving parents, and you needed both. The military wasn't known for handing out hugs and affirmation. We drilled survival techniques into the minds of our young soldiers so that they could come back home and see their families again. And if they didn't have a family, well…

I blew out a breath and checked my watch.

Three minutes.

I started the engine and forced myself to put a foot on the gas.

With Danny's skill sets, he had received his fair share of accolades and honors, but what the semi-suppressed Daddy Dom in me wanted to know was when he'd last received a tight hug or someone telling him they were fucking proud of him.

Scratch that; I didn't need to be a Daddy Dom to have those thoughts, just a decent bloke.

My heart went out to him. I couldn't help it. And it made me huff a chuckle to myself when I thought about how he'd react if I went soft on him. Maybe he would curse me out. Take a swing at me. Could he handle affection? I wouldn't know. He did all right with compliments. I'd seen him beam under praise, even though he kept things brief. Followed by a firm nod.

He was the type of guy who could fist-pump the air and go, "Fuck yeah!" when he'd beaten a record or excelled some other way. But not everything in life was about accomplishments.

Considering his upbringing, I wouldn't be surprised if Danny felt he had to earn every compliment and reward by working hard. Which was effective in the military. That was how soldiers climbed ranks and stood out.

Unfortunately, up until he'd left, that was all he'd had.

On that note, it was kind of mind-blowing he'd actually left the service.

His one place of stability. He'd walked away from it. For what? To hunt me down and go private? Did he not realize how isolating my life was? That was the first fucking lesson I'd given to the twins. Get ready to be alone, 'cause we don't travel in units. At most, we'd be two or three men. It all depended on the mission. For the most part, I was on my own.

River and Reese were different because of their relationship. They'd made me promise they would always work together, and I'd confirmed it with Terrance at Hillcroft.

As I got closer to the cabin, I rolled down my window. It'd gotten dark, so it was easy to see the glow from the grill between the trees before I rounded the last bend. I heard music too. Reese must've taken out his boom box.

Music and laughter were better than the boys fighting. With Danny, you never knew what would happen.

A motorcycle was parked outside my cabin. Danny's, I presumed. He must've retrieved it from wherever he'd hidden it before.

I parked behind it and killed the engine.

"The Brit is back!" I heard Reese holler.

I assumed it was Reese. It was always Reese.

The twins had put on hoodies, so I wasn't sure who was who yet.

I headed up the porch steps and took in the scene. Steaks were on the grill, along with foil-wrapped potatoes. They'd turned our cooler into a makeshift table, small as it was. The twins were crafty; they placed their chairs close together so they could use their armrests as a table for their plates. Huh, they'd prepared a salad too.

River looked at ease.

Reese was manning the grill.

Danny watched me in silence. He'd taken the seat on the right end, and he was smoking a cigarette.

"Don't stop laughing just because I'm back," I said.

"Danny thinks it's funny we call you British," Reese supplied.

I snorted softly and sat down in the empty chair between River and Danny, and I faced the latter. "I'm British to two Tennessee boys who've never left the South."

Danny quirked a faint smirk.

"We're not in the South now," Reese pointed out.

Semantics. And the story of my life. I was Big Yankee in the UK and the Brit in the US.

"Anyway." Reese poked at the steaks with the tongs and scratched his nose. "We were talking earlier, and it's glaringly obvious you haven't trained us half as hard as you once trained Danny."

I withheld my smile and leaned forward, removing two plates from the top of the cooler. Then I flipped open the lid and brought out two beers. The twins had grabbed theirs, and Danny hadn't. For some reason. I extended one in silent offering, and he accepted it.

It was a good time to go soft on Danny—in my own way. Baby steps and all.

"You've been in my care for five months," I said. "The Army spent nine years and approximately two million dollars to turn him into one of the best soldiers this country's ever seen. We'll get there, Reese."

I twisted the cap off my beer and took a swig.

Danny blinked and sort of froze.

Reese let out a low whistle and eyed Danny.

I hadn't said anything that wasn't true.

No matter how long Danny was here for, I wanted to show him I was more than an instructor. He deserved that, and it was for me too. As much as he could piss me the fuck off, we were both civilians now—technically—and maybe a fresh start could eliminate the hostility.

I didn't wanna be the fucker who started being all nice because of what he'd been through. And with that said, another voice piped up and said I could at least treat him with more respect. We were equals after all. Besides, if I wanted to be more than an instructor, I had to remember that he was more than a soldier too.

So…yeah, my mind was still fucked.

I'd find a balance somehow. Once I figured out what route I'd approve for him. Because it was extremely difficult to consider preparing him for a life in the private sector. The thought made me restless. Who would hold him back when his temper got the best of him? Who would be his backup?

But in the end…it wasn't up to me, was it? He was a grown man.

River cleared his throat. "Reese." He nodded at the grill.

"Right." Reese turned the steaks over. "Yeah, I think dinner's ready."

"Wonderful." I was starving. I got up and grabbed one of the plates and pushed the salad to the side. Someone had cut up tomatoes and thick slices of cucumber. "Which one is medium-rare?"

"All of them." Reese placed a steak on my plate, followed by a wrapped potato, then handed me a knife and fork. "But, so…is it possible we could maybe do more than just relax while we're here?"

Christ. The twins were eager. Reese might be the talker, but I knew he spoke on River's behalf too. They wanted the same things.

"I'm sure I can think of something." I returned to my seat and scooted it closer to the cooler and placed my plate there. The food looked damn good.

" Sweet . It's possible Danny told us about the time you sent his unit out on a foraging hike," Reese mentioned.

"Uh-huh." I peeled the foil off the potato, and then Danny was right there with a stick of butter and a knife. Oh, absolutely. I nodded, and he cut a quarter of the stick onto my potato. Perfect. "Cheers. Grab your food, kid." I cut into my steak and glanced back at Reese. "You want a task like that?"

He shrugged. "Sounds like a good skill to have, doesn't it? Being able to forage stuff in the woods…?"

I supposed. "It certainly couldn't hurt, but I can't envision a scenario where you'd have to forage for food in an American forest." I loaded steak and buttery potato onto my fork and dug in.

River and Reese were born survivors. They'd grown up hunting and were naturally scrappy. Add boot camp, and it made sense that their mind-sets were centered around survival training in the wild.

My comment had made Reese think twice. He chewed on the inside of his cheek while he plated food for his brother and himself.

"You never work domestically, do you?"

I shook my head. "Very rarely. I'm not saying it will never happen for you in the future, but I don't think you need any further training in it. You've been camping and hunting all your life, eh?"

He inclined his head.

"Then I'd rather you picked up another language or learned what plants you can eat in Cambodia or Colombia." Man, this steak was perfect. The baked potato too. "Those are the places Hillcroft will send you to. The Middle East, South America, Africa, certain parts of Asia." I waved my fork at Danny, just as he sat down to eat. "Every soldier insistent on becoming a PMC has to shake the military mind-set. There's no structure to what we do. We have our own survival techniques, and most of them are about blending in."

The SAS was the best branch in the world for that, because they created gray men. We were called operators, not soldiers. Regular armed forces built machines who walked and carried themselves a certain way. The SAS shaped men into background features. Sure, we'd gone through all the physical training too. We had to be strong, agile, fit—the whole nine yards. But most of it was mental.

Which gave me an idea. "I know what you can do—and we can incorporate a physical aspect."

The twins perked up.

"I'll give you twelve hours, starting right after dinner," I said, retrieving my wallet from my back pocket. "Here's a hundred bucks." I handed two fifties to River. "A more likely scenario is…let's say, an extraction. You're tasked with bringing home a diplomat from Venezuela. You have to spend the night in the jungle, where you're invisible, before you set your plan in motion." I nodded to the lake and the forest. "I can't give you a jungle, so an American forest will have to do. But when you set foot on this porch tomorrow at—" I checked my watch "—eight thirty, you gotta sell your personas to me. Become two men who blend in with the background, whom no one would suspect of smuggling a diplomat out of the country. We're talking character history, dialects, names, personal information, your whole cover. Clothes, pocket litter, quirks, traits."

River's eyes flashed with determination. A challenge like this one was right up his alley. Reese tended to prefer the physical challenges, but he needed to learn this too.

"I'll be asking questions," I finished.

"What can we bring?" Reese asked. "Our sleeping bags?"

"I don't know, can you?" I cocked my head at him. "Will that fit your cover story? Are you going to Venezuela as American hikers? I'm not saying that would be wrong—but you bring only what will go along with your character profiles."

This would be a great test for the brothers, on more than one level. I hoped River would remember the SAS rule to keep shit simple. Don't run if you can walk, rest when you can, eat when you can, take the easy route.

That was one of the reasons I didn't want Danny in the private sector. He was wired to go the extra mile and show off. If I sent his detachment out on a ten-mile hike, he brought heavier gear to stand out. He always had to perform better than his peers.

I stopped with my fork in midair as something dawned on me. Danny wasn't necessarily looking for the next compliment as much as he wanted constant approval. The boy wanted to be seen.

My chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought of him exhausting himself just to get noticed. Fucking hell, I had to do something.