“I take it you’ve seen the paper by now?”
The subject caused John’s jaw to clamp down. “And the news.” Suspecting what this was about, he started to refuse even before the LC asked. “Don’t look at me—”
“I need you to shut her up.”
John’s reaction was visceral. Every bone in his body rejected the idea. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Brand’s sexy, made-his-blood-run-hot, and definitely off-limits sister. That was a no go.Shewas a no go.
With unusual vehemence for someone who was normally easygoing and agreeable, John said, “No, sir. Not me. Find someone else to take care of it. Sir.”
If he thought adding the extra “sir” in there would help, it didn’t. “I wasn’t asking, Donovan, and the ‘sir’ crap isn’t going to help. Everyone else is busy. Besides, you are the logical choice. Baylor told me you know her.”
That was the problem.
“Not well,” he lied. Well enough. “What about Miggy? He knows her, too.”
The four of them had been hanging out at her brother’s rented beach house in San Diego—John, Brand, Miggy, and Tex—when Brittany had shown up for an unexpected visit five years ago. It had been during the time he and Brand were being recruited for Team Nine.
There was a pause. “What’s this about, Dynomite? I thought you’d want to help—this is Blake’s sister we’re talking about, and she could be in danger. She has no idea of the kind of shit storm she’s stirring up with these articles. We aren’t the only ones who might want her quiet. Did you think of that?”
John’s jaw was clenching so hard that his teeth were gritting together. He didn’t want to think about that. If he thought about that, he wouldn’t be able to refuse. He’d also have to remember his promise.
“You think she’s in danger from whoever set us up and told the Russians we were coming?”
“She could be. She’s shining a light on something a lot of people want to keep dark. And she’s not letting it go.”
That was her. If there was anything he remembered about Brand’s sister—and unfortunately he remembered a lot, especially those big blue eyes staring up at him as if he’d just stomped all over her heart, which still made him a little sick just thinking about—she didn’t back off easily. Once Brit got her teeth into something, she didn’t let go. She was the pin-down, box-in type. Which was part of the problem. He didn’t do either.
John wanted to refuse, but he knew he was beaten. He might not want to have anything to do with her, but she was his best friend’s sister. He couldn’t stand by if she was in danger. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had to physically come into contact with her. He shivered with something that might actually be characterized as fear.
At least he didn’t think he would have to. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know we are alive.”
“I don’t.” The LC stopped to correct himself. “Didn’t. Something came up with the senior chief, and I had to bring Kate into it, but no one else can know.”
John didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to think. Kate was Katherine Wesson. The ex-wife of Team Nine’s former chief, Colt Wesson. LC Taylor was supposedly oneof the reasons the Wesson marriage had broken up. John hadn’t wanted to believe the LC could have done something so effed up as to screw around with another man’s wife, let alone a close friend and team member’s wife—it didn’t fit with Taylor’s always by-the-book, run-a-tight-ship persona. But now the one person he’d confided in about this was Kate? John didn’t know what to make of that, but he was glad they had someone they could trust helping them—especially since Kate was CIA.
“Then how am I supposed to get her to back off?” John said. “I can’t exactly call her and tell her what’s up.” Nor was he going to threaten or scare her. Not only did the idea make him cringe, but he didn’t think it would stop her. Rather, it would probably have the opposite effect.
“You’ll think of something,” the LC said, apparently unconcerned. “Just do it fast. For her sake as well as ours, this story needs to go away.”
John hung up the phone and leaned back against the door, feeling as if he’d just been told to run a marathon in an hour—uphill. Hell, that would be easier. And preferable.
He closed his eyes and thought for a minute, letting the memories come back to him. Memories that he normally kept shut away in a very dark corner, behind a very thick wall.Not for you.
His eyes popped open. He had an idea. There was one way he could think of to be sure she heeded the warning. But he was going to hate himself for doing it. And she would hate him more than she already did if she ever found out what he’d done.
Which was definitely saying something.
Three
The hockey player had all his teeth.
Brittany’s hot date—Mick—was even hotter than his picture, which meant he was pretty damned hot. Way too hot for her. She was fine-looking—maybe even pretty when she put some effort into it (which she had tonight)—but she was nowhere near this guy’s level. A supermodel wouldn’t be near this guy’s level.
He was gorgeous. Dark, wavy hair, heavily lashed green eyes, chiseled, masculine features, and built. Seriously built, like... a hockey player. Tall, broad-shouldered, and stacked with enough hard muscle to make any sane person turn and run in the opposite direction and give proof to his role as the team’s enforcer—she didn’t need to be a hockey fan to get the gist of that. He bore a distinct resemblance to the actor who played Superman in the new movies and always made her heart beat a little faster.
She didn’t know what was more surprising: the fact that her heart was beating at a nice, steady pace (and had been all night) or that Superman—Mick—seemed to be interested in her. Really interested in her. Which might be flattering if she weren’t sitting there wondering why.
Good-looking, easy to talk to, a former professional hockey player who’d spent most of his eight years in the minor leagues but had made a few appearances with the Boston Bruins and had gone back to finish school afterward—Harvard, no less—and who was now working as a lobbyist with a big firm in town... What was her problem?
