PROLOGUE
Kandahar,Afghanistan
Kaamisha Dawari stoodin the shadows across the street from the coffee shop she’d recently begun to frequent. She hid, not because she was afraid, but because she was busy hunting. Not an animal, but rather a group of highly trained men.
Though some might refer to the group of former American SEALs as animals, Kaamisha knew them for exactly what they really were. Trained killers their government once paid to take out those it deemed as the enemy.
My mother wasn’t their enemy. My mother was a kind and loving woman whose only crime was dreaming of a world filled with peace.
Unfortunately, it no longer mattered who or what her mother was. Only that she was dead.
So many lives had been wasted. So many innocent people had been slaughtered in the name of terroristic ideologies. And countless rules and laws that had been twisted anddistorted in order to fit an unrecognizable doctrine brought forth by evil and greed.
It was that same evil that had stolen her home when Kaamisha was merely a child. Years later, that same need for power had forced her father to leave her and her mother behind to fight a war in which he held no claim.
And it was that same unrelenting force that sent an unknown man’s bullets flying into her mother’s unshielded body, ripping her from this world in a spray of violence that had solved nothing and saved no one.
Kaamisha’s gaze returned to the man sitting toward the back of the small shop. Her target appeared much like the picture she’d been given.
Tall. Fit. A black ball cap covering his short, almost black hair. His strong, masculine jaw painted dark by a matching, closely trimmed beard.
Donovan Braddock.
She’d spent hours learning everything she could about him and his four teammates, as well as the other four men’s wives.
Between the internet and what her contact had revealed, it seemed as if the remaining members of what used to be the most decorated SEAL team in activation were now equal partners in a private security firm.
Kaamisha’s lips twitched ever so slightly with the urge to lift in a smile. She’d had the same reaction the first time she’d read the company name, having found the unconventional nomenclature surprisingly charming.
The opposite of how she’d describe the man in the booth.
Stoic. Angry. Impatient.
Sexy.
Yes, from where she was standing, Donovan Braddock appeared to be all of those things. But as Kaamisha had learned, the former SEAL was also highly skilled and quite deadly.
According to the intel that had been shared with her, the fit brunette had specialized in hand-to-hand combat while serving his time in the military. Following his team’s sudden—and from what she’d been told, unvoluntary—departure from the Navy, the lethal American had become the co-owner of a team whose office was located in the Pacific Northwest.
Five former SEALs who went from having their boots deep in the trenches to protecting those walking the streets of Seattle. Kaamisha had read where the men of Eagle’s Nest worked as bodyguards and escorts to members of both the public and political arenas. And they did so without fanfare or an obvious need for celebrity status or any other sort of notoriety.
These were the men who’d reportedly murdered her mother in cold blood three years before. All-American heroes who had risked their lives many times over for what seemed to be the side of good.
And yet, their names were the ones Kaamisha had been given regarding her mother’s untimely death.
It makes no sense. My mother detested the violence in this country. Why would these men orchestrate her murder?
War rarely made sense to her, however. And every piece of information she possessed told her the same thing…
Her eyes refocused on the American she could still see through the shop’s front windows. Even from here, it was clear to see he was growing impatient. Tired of waiting for her, no doubt.
Far be it from me to disappoint.
Kaamisha looked both ways before crossing the street, using both hands to lift the hem of her cream-colored dress as she walked. A breeze blew past, sending the flowing material waving slightly with the wind. The olive green hijab covering her long, dark hair kept all but a few strands securely in place.
The sun had already set, and the usual crowd was beginningto disperse. This worked in her favor, of course. Shadows tended to hide a multitude of sins.
Stepping up to the shop’s entrance, Kaamisha reached for the door. Pulling it open, she glanced casually around, not daring to turn directly in the man’s direction.
