After twenty years as a Combat Rescue Officer in the Air Force Special Warfare’s division, Ryder Callahan is ready to start the next phase of his life. Moving to West Yellowstone with his best friend Mason Quinn and the rest of his team to head an advanced security division inside the already established Brotherhood Protectors is the perfect solution. Discovering civilian life is almost as deadly as his time in the service isn’t part of the plan. Especially when it involves Kennedy Sinclair — a mutual friend of Mason’s, and the woman determined to be his undoing.
Kennedy’s smart, attractive, and far too sophisticated for a guy who prefers a man made lean-to over a five-star hotel room. The fact she thinks he’s an ass doesn’t help his chances, either. But when a last-minute security detail at her foundation’s charity event turns ugly, Ryder quickly learns she’s not the person he thought she was.
Convincing her she needs protection won’t be easy — getting her to give him a chance to prove he’s not who she thinks, either, nearly impossible. But Ryder’s never backed down from a challenge, and he’s not about to start, now. It doesn’t matter how many armed men are hunting her, where they strike, or whether she’ll ever want more than a safe haven, he’ll go the distance. Because this is his watch, and failure isn’t an option.
“Ryder. This is a fundraiser, not a funeral. Would it kill you to smile?”
Ryder Callahan paused on the patio just outside the ballroom doors, smoothing out his jacket as he glanced at the balcony a floor above him. Not that he needed to look to know Mason Quinn was staring down at him. Ryder sensed it. Knew it in the soldier part of his brain that had spent the past twenty years fighting alongside his buddy. Advanced recon missions that had relied on Ryder knowing exactly where each of his teammates were situated without having to check — constantly radioing in. What had often been the difference between success and failure — hell, life and death. The fact they’d been best friends since they’d started playing competitive hockey together as kids, hadn’t hurt any, either. A connection that went deeper than blood.
It was also the reason Ryder was stuck at the high-class charity event instead of kicking back in a cabin for some much-needed down time. What he’d planned on doing with Mason and their other buddy, Cruz, until Mason’s wife, Isabella, had charmed the man into doing her a favor. A last-minute security detail for the Sinclair Foundation. Which meant Ryder had reluctantly traded in his hiking boots and cargo pants for a tux and shoes that reflected the overhead lights.
His earpiece clicked before Cruz chuckled. “He’s just pissed because I told him an incoming frontal system was going to ruin his hopes of getting in any quality hiking.”
Ryder glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head as he eyed Cruz standing off to his right across the patio. “And yet, not a cloud in the sky, buddy.”
“Just wait. It’s coming.”
“Why are you actually here, anyway? I doubt we’ll need a Spec Op weatherman’s expertise inside a museum, unless you think that storm cell is going to rain all over the guests, tonight. And since when does a guy of your prestigious rank stoop to field work?”
Mason laughed, joining them beneath a string of lights on the patio. “He’s got you there, Cruz. You kinda did give up the grunt work to ride a desk and boss everyone around.”
Cruz simply crossed his arms over his chest. “Only so I could spend more time at home — work on my marriage.”
“Which explains why it took you and Ayla nearly dying in a tornado a few months back to finally fix everything, which was long overdue, by the way.” Mason shook his head. “But now I know why you two were always the perfect fit. You’re both nuts.”
“She’s nuts. I just happen to love her brand of crazy. And at least she’s not my polar opposite.”
“Ayla’s impulsive. You’re anything, but. And Isabella isn’t my polar opposite. She’s just more refined than me.”
“Right. And what color tuxedos are we all wearing? Because the guy I knew would have called them gray, but Isabella would probably say something like gunmetal.”
Mason laughed. “That’s exactly what color they are. I’m glad you’re finally learning some fashion sense.”
Cruz gave Mason a nudge. “I guess we both married our opposites. Probably why we’re so happy.”
Ryder groaned, eyeing Mason and Cruz before making exaggerated gagging sounds. “God, you guys really need to stop with the over-the-top love shit. Some of us don’t have the stomach for it.”
Mason arched a brow. “You’re the one who insists on remaining single. I’ve already offered to set you up with one of Isabella’s friends.”
“And I’ve already declined.” Ryder held up his hand, cutting off his best friend before Mason started listing all the reasons Ryder was being stubborn. “I appreciate the offer. You know, I do. And it’s not as if the ladies I’ve seen with Isabella aren’t beautiful or talented. It’s just…”
“They aren’t your type.” Mason crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think Isabella was my type either. Look how wrong I was.”
“And I couldn’t be happier for you. Truly. But I’m really not a cover girl kind of guy.”
“Winners of a beauty pageant are usually referred to as beauty queens, not cover girls.”
“And the fact you know that says it all.”
“Hey, you were the one who told me you liked a lady who didn’t mind getting dressed up.”
“For special occasions, sure. Like tonight. I’m wearing a tux.” Ryder smirked. “Gunmetal and all. But we both know I’m not suited for a woman who shows up to fish wearing three-inch heels.”
“You know Isabella wears more appropriate footwear for those kinds of outings, now.”
“Right. Designer combat boots.” Ryder gave Mason a light shove. “Not that you’d care if she didn’t. Which is kind of the point of being in love. Besides, I’m fine. Happier than ever, unless you two insist on making goo-goo eyes all night. Blowing kisses to your wives.”
Cruz sighed. “It’s gonna rain. I promise you. In fact, I bet you fifty bucks it’ll be pouring with thunder and lightning by the time we leave.”
Hand it to Cruz to see through Ryder’s bullshit. That his annoyance had little to do with his buddies being happily in love and everything to do with him being out of his element. Not that he hadn’t participated in these kinds of events before or wasn’t suited for urban assignments. He just excelled at the dirty, dangerous, dragging-assets-out-from-behind-enemy-lines type work. And after twenty years of being a Combat Rescue Officer for the Air Force Special Warfare division, trading in his boots for dress shoes was taking some adjusting.
Mason’s hand landed on Ryder’s shoulder. “Cheer up. Maybe a bunch of armed thugs will try to raid the place, and you can go all Rambo on their asses.”
Ryder snorted. “Rambo? Seriously? You couldn’t go with John Wick or Ethan Hunt? Something from this decade? Not that it matters. The chances of anything ugly happening are about as good as Cruz’s prediction that it’s going to rain.” He motioned to Cruz. “You’re on, by the way.”
“Easy money.” Cruz moved out in front of them, waving at the starlit sky. “Because it’s moving in faster than I thought. Within the hour. Guaranteed.”
“You two are so full of shit. And don’t even bother denying it. I’m here. I’ll do my job. But you both owe me.”
Ryder headed inside, ignoring how Mason and Cruz kept hounding him before stopping near the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Ryder had to admit, the museum’s architecture was breathtaking, with vaulted ceilings and inlaid wood details in the floors. The kind of old-world charm that instantly put him at ease. And knowing the event was for a good cause definitely tugged at the heart he thought he’d buried in some distant hellhole overseas.
Not that it eased all the tension bunching his muscles. A distant nagging feeling that perhaps Mason wasn’t completely off the mark, and there was a real possibility the night could end bloody. Not for the guests — they’d see to that. But between the items the foundation had acquired for the silent auction, and the sheer amount of priceless paintings and antiques on display, it definitely put a giant bullseye on the event for any organized group that thought they’d only be facing minimal security forces.
Which was probably why Isabella had volunteered their services in the first place. While they weren’t SEALs or Delta Force, they’d spent their careers operating behind enemy lines, and were more than capable of dealing with any kind of outside threat.
Mason nudged Ryder’s arm. “You’ve got that look.”
Ryder arched a brow. “The one that says it’ll take more than a case of Corona to make it up to me?”
“The one that says you’re feeling twitchy.”
“We’re ex-Special Forces. I don’t know about you — if keeping all the colors straight from your new fashion wardrobe has turned your brain to mush — but I don’t get twitchy. Though, before you roll your eyes, I’ll admit I’ve got a heavy feeling between my shoulder blades that won’t go away.”
Mason nodded, giving the main open area a thorough once-over. “Me, too. I can’t believe the Sinclairs were going to make due with just the usual museum security.”
“Let’s face it. Most people don’t see the world the way we do. They don’t look at possible infil points or map out route strategies. The regular staff have the entranceways and perimeter manned. And since nothing bad has happened at previous functions, it’s not unrealistic the Sinclairs wouldn’t consider their event a viable target. Though, to be honest, even with the five of us as added help, there are still a dozen ways this could go south, and we’d have to intervene with extreme prejudice.”
“God, I hope it doesn’t come down to that. Can you imagine the bill if someone opened fire in here? They just added a brand new wing.”
“Causing damage beats allowing everyone to die.”
“Still…” Mason nodded when Cruz motioned toward Ayla walking in from the main auction room, before the other man headed her way. “At least Kent and Asher have the auction covered. That leaves the three of us to recon the remaining areas — do the occasional perimeter check, just to be safe.”
“If our team can’t handle any possible threat, then it’s time to retire from everything.”
“I love how you always see the positive side of things, Ryder. Though, something tells me you might not be all that upset if you have to react to a dynamic situation.”
Ryder elbowed the man. Hard. “It’d be a shame if I had to punch my best friend because he’s being an ass.”
“Please, I’m too quick.”
“Never seemed to have trouble catching you all those years on the ice.”
Mason snorted. “You? Catch me? Not a chance in hell. You’re a goalie. The only thing you can catch is the puck.” He waited a beat then added, “On occasion.”
“How about I rent out an arena next week, and we put that claim to the test?”
“You’re on. Bring all your gear. My prize for beating your ass will be hitting you in the mask.”
“Like you could hit my face. You’re too rusty.”
Mason sighed. “You’re not wrong. Though, you do realize assimilating into civilian life would be easier if you found a few pastimes that didn’t involve waivers and adrenaline rushes.”
“You make me sound like I’m a junkie.”
Mason merely crossed his arms and stared at Ryder. Not that the guy was wrong, but after living in that zone for most of his life, Ryder found it hard to simply kick back. Step down off the ledge without wanting to jump headfirst. Not that Mason or Cruz were any different, but with their relationships taking priority these past few months, they didn’t have as much free time to indulge in their wild sides.
Which was why Ryder preferred spending any other time off at a fellow Brotherhood Protector’s training cabin. Logan Bishop, part of Team Raptor, shared Ryder’s affinity for riding that razor’s edge, and was always happy to fly him out to the team’s shack. Even with Logan’s wife, Harlow, along, it was rarely civilized. Though, that was probably due to the fact Harlow was ex-CIA and a current ATF agent. Or because she was just as likely to fire a few rounds at Ryder’s ass to, “Keep him sharp,” than sit around.
It was also how he and Mason had scored their two-bedroom cabin. Logan had just finished building the extra space when Team Watchdog had come online, and the other man had been more than happy to have a couple of fellow ex-soldiers renting it. And, if it meant Harlow had more protection whenever Logan was away, that was a bonus. Not that any of them would say that to her. Even several months pregnant, the lady was pure grit, and one hell of a shot. But Ryder knew it eased some of Logan’s protective instincts, just the same.
Of course, Mason had moved out when he’d bought a place with Isabella a few weeks back — after their shotgun wedding. Though Ryder knew Mason would have asked Isabella to marry him, pregnant or not. He’d been hooked after the first date, even if he hadn’t admitted it. Which left Ryder manning the cabin by himself. Not that he was lonely. In fact, he was starting to appreciate the special kind of calm that came with living on his own. A nice change after all those years in barracks or sharing a tent overseas.
Footsteps sounded above them, and Ryder glanced up the stairs. Isabella stopped at the top, leaning over to talk to an older couple admiring some of the paintings before looking their way. He focused on Mason, and damn if the man wasn’t beaming. Not just smiling — this went beyond that. All school-boy giddiness Ryder wouldn’t have thought still existed, but there it was. Shining up at Isabella as if she’d infused Mason with a supply of neon.
Ryder groaned, elbowing Mason in the ribs. “Dude. You’re practically drooling.”
Mason laughed. “Jealousy does not suit you, bro.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Mason arched his brow.
Ryder elbowed him, again. Harder. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say, anything.”
“We both know you did. You just didn’t say it out loud. And for the record, it’s not as if you’ve adapted by taking up any non-lethal pastimes, either.”
Mason nodded toward Isabella. “I’m sorry, have you not met my wife?”
“You’re claiming she’s your suitable pastime?”
“She’s my everything.”
Ryder covered his mouth. “And now, I’m gonna be sick.”
“Talk about being full of shit. Offer’s still open to set you up with her friends.” Mason gave him a firm look. “Or maybe just one friend in particular.”
Ryder groaned, resisting the urge to punch that sloppy grin off Mason’s face. “Like I’ve told you the other dozen times you’ve brought it up, I don’t have a thing for Kennedy.”
It wasn’t a total lie. He didn’t know Isabella’s best friend, Kennedy Sinclair, well enough to have any concrete feelings. Sure, she was stunning and smart, and he was definitely attracted to her sharp wit and sarcastic sense of humor, but… There was no mistaking she rivaled Isabella’s desire for fashion, and he doubted she’d be happy dating a guy who felt more at home in a manmade lean-to on the side of a mountain, than in a luxury suite in a five-star hotel. And at this stage in his life, he wasn’t looking to change.
Compromise, sure. But he liked the man he’d matured into, and if he was ever going to find the kind of connection Mason and Cruz had found, he needed someone who loved him for him. Not for who he could pretend to be.
And a lady that fine deserved a partner who fit into her world without making her feel as if she needed to change, either.
Mason shook his head, still focusing on Isabella. “You know you have a tell, right?”
“You’re just saying that because you think I’ll suddenly admit I’ve been lying, all this time.”
“I don’t need you to admit what I already know.” Mason held up one hand. “I won’t push it. I just think you two would be a great match if you simply gave her a chance.”
“She’s beautiful. No question.”
“She’s also tough and down to earth.”
Ryder simply raised a brow. “I’m sorry, but we’re talking about Kennedy Sinclair, right? Socialite. Heir to the Sinclair fortune, and the face of their private operating foundation? Who looks as if she fits in at Isabella’s pageants? That Kennedy?”
“Technically, her mother, Dr. Jacklyn Sinclair, is still the figurehead of the Sinclair Foundation, along with her father, John.” Mason sighed. “And you, of all people, should know that life is all about wearing different masks. You might be surprised what you’ll find if you see her without one of hers on.”
“Are you sure they’re not just variations of the same one?”
“Guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”
“Jackass.” Ryder straightened, nodding at Isabella as she descended the stairs then walked over to them. “Isabella. You look beautiful, as usual. Guess that old saying is true. You’re glowing.”
She blushed, and Ryder had to admit, she really was breath-taking. “And you’re still pissed you didn’t get to go camping, or hiking, or whatever it was you three amigos were going to do out in the wild.”
“Amigos?”
“Isn’t that what you, Mason, and Cruz call yourselves? The Trés Amigos?”
Ryder shook his head, glaring at Mason. “You really need to stop watching those old movies, buddy. It shows.”
Mason grinned. “At least, I’m not watching them all by myself.”
“You shouldn’t be watching anything when you’re still in the honeymoon phase. Don’t you two have better ways to kill the time? Or is your unborn child already cockblocking you?”
Isabella laughed. “Don’t you two ever stop?”
Mason knocked her shoulder, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Nope. So, I thought you were helping Kennedy with the auction? Shouldn’t it be in full swing, by now?”
“Do not get me started.” Isabella brushed at a few stray hairs that had slipped free from her up-do. “The whole audio system practically blew up. There’s some magician her mom hired stalling while Kennedy’s retrieving a spare system from the archives. I offered to go with her, but she insisted I stay here.”
Ryder smiled when Isabella rubbed her hand across her belly, not that she seemed aware she was even doing it. But it definitely made him realize that maybe Mason wasn’t completely wrong about him being jealous, either.
Fingers snapped in front of his face, and he blinked as Isabella frowned. “Ryder? Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Then, why are you grinning at me like that? It’s creepy.”
He shrugged, tugging on the bottom of his jacket. “No reason. Just thinking. Do you know if Kennedy took one of the security guards with her?”
“I don’t think so. But it’s a secure area.” She held up an ID card, similar to the ones their crew had. “You need a pass card to access the elevator and codes to get into any of the rooms.” Isabella looked at Mason. “Is something wrong? Should I go after her?”
Mason gave her a squeeze. “Of course not. Everything’s fine. Ryder’s just being cautious.”
Isabella gave Ryder an odd raise of one brow before removing her cell from the ridiculously small clutch purse in her other hand. “I’ll call her. See if she’s found…”
Ryder glanced at Mason when she frowned, tapping her phone a second time. “Isabella? Something wrong?”
She met his gaze as she touched her phone, again. “I just realized Kennedy probably left her phone in her purse, which is with her mom — nowhere for her to carry it — but it doesn’t matter. I can’t seem to get a signal.”
That heavy feeling between Ryder’s shoulder blades increased as the voice inside his head started yelling at him. He removed his cell, looking over at Mason when nothing worked. “Mason.”
But his buddy was already on the radio to Kent and Asher, telling them to keep everyone seated inside the auction room, just to be safe. Then, he was waving Cruz over. “Pretty damn sure I already know the answer, but since you’re the weather expert… Any chance that inbound storm is screwing up our cell service?”
Cruz glanced out the window at the growing darkness. “It’s not nearly intense enough for that, yet, unless it somehow knocked out a few cell towers. But I’ll review some charts just to be sure it hasn’t changed…”
Mason clenched his jaw at Cruz’s hushed curse. “Cruz?”
“Internet just went offline.”
“Well, shit.”
That was all Ryder needed to get everyone moving toward the auction room, Isabella and Ayla positioned between them, in case a few tangos burst through the doors and opened fire. Not that Ryder thought that was the next move any organized group would make. More likely the bastards would kill the power, first, then strike when they thought they had the upper hand.
Mason had his radio out, again, trying to raise the museum’s security staff. “Damn it, nothing but static. This is really starting to piss me off.”
Isabella snagged his arm. “Mason? Ryder? What’s going on?”
Ryder faked a decent smile. “Not sure, yet, but we need to check out a few things.”
“Oh, god. You think this is the start of something bad, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, and Ryder didn’t try to lie. “Let’s just say this is the progression I’d take if I wanted to launch a surprise attack.”
“Attack?”
Mason groaned. “Way to keep it all on the down low, buddy, before we know for sure.”
Ryder shrugged. “Knowledge is power. Hope for the best—”
“But plan for the worst. Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept. Which means we need to get everyone into a central location. Set up sentries, while someone checks out the mechanical room to rule out a simple electrical issue with the wi-fi. What might have sparked the audio system to go haywire.”
“Oh my god. Kennedy is down in the basement.” Isabella paled as she squeezed Mason’s arm. “Alone.”
“Breathe, babe. It’s going to be okay. We can handle whatever this is, we just need everyone to remain calm. I’ll go—”
“Sorry, buddy, but this one’s mine.” Ryder merely stared at Mason when his friend glared at him.
“I’m team leader. If there’s a risk to be had…”
“We all can take that risk.” He cut Mason off with a wave of his hand. “There’s no way I’m allowing you to leave your pregnant wife’s safety up to anyone else.”
Mason punched his arm. “Isabella being pregnant doesn’t change, anything. I—”
“You know I love it when you go all team leader on me, but not this time. So, save your breath. This is one decision I’m making for everyone.”
Mason’s face paled slightly, the reference to his sister, Mary Lou, weighing down the space. How the man still blamed himself for her death, despite knowing it wasn’t anything he could have changed. Isabella had been helping lift that burden, but it was still there — still raw. Which meant, Ryder needed to shoulder Kennedy’s safety in case she got hurt.
Or worse.
Ryder shut Isabella down when it was obvious she was going to insist he take Mason with him. “I know Kennedy’s your best friend, but there’s a room full of people who also need Mason and Cruz’s expertise. I’ll bring Kennedy back.”
The fact he cared a bit more for Kennedy than he wanted to admit hadn’t factored into his decision. Was simply another reason he needed to be the guy to go hunting.
Mason snagged his arm when he went to move past him. “If this is an attack, we both know they’ll take the power out, next.”
“Then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m checking out the mechanical room. I’ll radio in when I have an update. Might be best if you don’t try calling me until I do.”
“Do not get yourself shot.”
“I didn’t make it through all those years in the service just to let some gangbanger cap my ass. Channel two.”
Ryder took off, heading for the service stairs at the far end of the museum. Normally, his team would have done numerous dry runs of any possible threat — had the layout memorized. Scrutinized every inch of the building. But getting the call only hours before the event…
It didn’t matter. He’d scanned the floor plan enough to know where the main sections were. How to access the various stairwells and exit points. What might be the difference between getting to Kennedy or getting ambushed. All he needed was for his luck to hold a bit longer. Once he had her safely at his side, he could deal with any other threat.
Until the lights cut out, blanketing the entire building in eerie shadows. Not even the backup generator kicking in.
Looked as if he’d have to do things the hard way. He grabbed his mag light and started down the stairs.