Forever Lasting (Forever Bluegrass #23)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

K eeneston, twenty-two years ago . . .

Cassidy was sitting in the living room of her grandparents’ house playing with old military action figures that her big brother Dylan had outgrown. Her older sister, Piper, was off with their cousins Layne, Riley, and Reagan. Dylan was off with their cousins Jackson and Wyatt. Cassidy’s other older brother, Jace, who was closest in age to her, was playing with their cousins Porter, Parker, Greer, Colton, and Landon. Then there were still older cousins like Ryan, Sophie, and Sydney who were off in their own group talking about dating. Gross . That left Cassidy. By herself.

Too young even for her youngest cousins to play with. Cassidy was six, but Jace and his crew were nine and ten, and they said she was too young to keep up with them. They played with her some because they were nice, but after a short time they took off to play on the farm.

Cassidy looked to where her parents were laughing with her aunts and uncles. She wanted to be a part of it. Yet, she never was. She hated being the youngest. Cassidy always felt invisible, or if she was seen, she was treated like a baby. She wasn’t a baby anymore. She was six!

“What has you frowning?” Uncle Cy asked as he gently tugged on one of her curly blonde pigtails before taking a seat across from her and picking up an action figure.

“I’m too little to play with the others. They said I couldn’t keep up.”

Uncle Cy had four kids. Porter and Parker were super close with Jace and then his daughters, Riley and Reagan, were super close to Piper. Once again, Cassidy was left out.

Cy nodded. “I know your Aunt Paige felt the same way when she was little and we stupid boys didn’t want her playing with us. Do you know what she did?”

“What?” Cassidy asked, glancing at Aunt Paige who was leaning against Uncle Cole and laughing.

“She became better at all the things we did and beat us at them as soon as she got big enough. Especially shooting,” Uncle Cy told her with a conspiratorial whisper.

Cassidy bit her lip as she looked from Aunt Paige back to Uncle Cy. “And you’re not mad Aunt Paige is a better shot than you?”

Uncle Cy shook his head. “No, but I’m better at hiding and learning things than Aunt Paige. We all have our talents. We just need to find them. But having a lot of siblings is a good thing. They’ll help you find your talents, even when you discover them because you’re trying to beat them... with love of course.”

“What’s my talent?” Cassidy asked.

Uncle Cy cocked his head and looked her over. “Well, Piper’s talent is her intelligence. She’s a lot like your father. Dylan is like Uncle Miles. He’s a military commander through and through. Jace has your mother’s caring nature, so he’ll do something that helps people. You,” Uncle Cy dropped his voice and leaned closer, “are like me.”

Cassidy looked up at him in awe. People, not her family, but other people, were scared of Uncle Cy with his big muscles and shaved head. “I’m not scary.”

Uncle Cy smiled and gave her a wink. “I might be scary, but my talents are the three S’s: silent, strong, and smart. I can slip in and out of a room without anyone seeing me. I can gather information and make snap decisions that will save lives. And if I get caught, I’m strong enough to fight my way out of it.”

“You think I can do that?” Cassidy felt her mouth hang open. No one thought she could do anything like that. They all pinched her cheek and patted her head.

Uncle Cy nodded his head. “I know you can because I already saw you sneak into the kitchen to steal two biscuits and a cookie.”

Uh-oh. “Am I in trouble?” Cassidy asked, hoping Uncle Cy wouldn’t tattle on her.

“No. I’m not going to tell on you, Cassidy. I’m going to teach you. At every family dinner, after the other kids run off, you and I are going to sneak off and follow them. The goal of the game is to not get caught.”

Cassidy smiled. “This sounds like fun! Can we start now?”

Uncle Cy nodded. “First, always take in your surroundings. Where can you hide in here?”

Uncle Cy and Cassidy looked around the room and she pointed at places she could hide and Uncle Cy told her about others she didn’t think of. Then he told her where she could exit the room if she needed to get outside. Only after that did they use what they learned and snuck from the house into the night to spy on her siblings and cousins.

For years at every family dinner, Uncle Cy taught her the craft of being a spy. Then, when she was ten, Uncle Cy got her a bow and arrow. He taught her how to silently wield it before teaching her hand-to-hand combat when she was a teenager. After she turned sixteen, he taught her how to use other weapons. Week after week, year after year, Uncle Cy turned her into an elite weapon. Cassidy was sometimes left alone because she was the youngest until her parents had their surprise daughter Cricket. Then Cassidy became the go-to babysitter. The difference was, instead of feeling ignored, Cassidy felt powerful.

“I’ve contacted an old friend of mine,” Uncle Cy told Cassidy at one family dinner during her senior year of college. “The CIA is watching you this year. If you still want to do it, that is. It’s a hard life.”

“I want to do it, Uncle Cy,” Cassidy swore.

“Then keep up the good grades and your training. You’ll be more than ready when they call.”

Cassidy had been more than ready. She’d finished first in her class, was fluent in six languages, and had no trouble picking up new ones as needed. She was trained in paramilitary fighting through the Keeneston Training Center, and she looked as sweet as her grandmother’s apple pie.

CIA training had been easy. It wasn’t nearly as tough as family dinner and she could have done it in her sleep. She also taught the mock interrogator a thing or two. He left the interview room crying, which got the attention of the Director of the CIA, Holden Beaumont. Cassidy was utilized differently from other agents. She wasn’t stuck sitting behind a desk at Langley, paying her dues. She was used as a lone wolf strike force. She gathered intelligence and rescued or protected people when a team would be too obvious. Lots of armed men around a woman at a club either protecting her or extricating her? Totally obvious. But a “college friend” or a party girl hanging out with that same woman at the club? No one noticed when Cassidy and the woman would leave the club after slipping away to use the restroom, or pay attention when information was passed between the two women. Until Holden Beaumont put her under Agent Naylor’s direction, that is. That’s when things got messy. With the help of a ballerina turned CIA asset, Natalie Townsend, Cassidy got the evidence needed to prove Naylor was a traitor. Now, Cassidy reported to Beaumont and only Beaumont.

France, three years ago . . .

He had his reasons for staying in the shadows. He shouldn’t be here. Not just at this location, but alive. He’d worked for years to be invisible so he could get his revenge. Now he was in a French villa trying to get information he needed from the man sleeping in the bed a foot from where he stood.

He leaned forward, sliding his hand over the man’s mouth. His eyes flew open as he fought for his life, but it wouldn’t free him. “Stop, Percy,” he said and the man instantly obeyed. “I’ve been looking for you. I need to know what you know about the American Embassy attack in Crusina five years ago.”

Percy’s eyes went comically wide in the darkness of the room as they darted around as if he could find a way to escape. He couldn’t. “I’m going to take my hand away, but feel this?” He pressed a knife to the Percy’s throat. “I’ll slice your throat if you so much as raise your voice above a whisper. Got it?”

Percy nodded and he removed his hand. “What do you want to know?” he whispered.

“Who hired the terrorists? I know it wasn’t Viktor Nikan of Crusina. The order came from America. Who?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He pressed the knife until Percy whimpered. “See, I know you’re lying. I know you talked to a CIA agent several times over the past decade. His name is Naylor. Start talking. What did Naylor have to do with the embassy attack?”

“Nothing. He was just a middle man. He wanted to climb the ladder in the CIA, and they used him to do their dirty work.”

“Who are they?”

“If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”

“Spoiler alert: they’re going to kill you anyway. Don’t let them get away with it.”

He waited as Percy thought about it. “I don’t know who the new person is. I swear. I only know the old contact.”

“Who was it?” Time was running out and he needed answers.

“CIA Director Milward. But that’s been years ago. President Stratton replaced him within months of taking office. Since then, Naylor has been stuck in his position. No more climbing the agency ladder for him. He’s more of a criminal than I am. He sells secrets.”

“Who did Naylor pass Milward’s messages to?” He was getting close to the truth and his heart pounded as he thought about finally getting more answers.

“I don’t know. I swear. I only gave Naylor information on the DS agents on duty at the embassy.”

Diplomatic Security. They were the ones who were attacked first at the embassy. The thing was, not all of them were there when they should have been. “What information did you give them about the DS?”

“Who was screwing who, who was in debt to who, who seemed easily bribable... that kind of thing. I swear, I didn’t know it was for an attack. I thought they only wanted to influence the politics.”

“Give me names, Percy,” he growled.

“There’s a drive with all the information I gave Naylor. It’s hidden in an aging barrel of wine that won’t be touched for twenty years. Barrel 516,” Percy told him. “But none of it is useful and it’s outdated now. Everyone has been fired or killed.”

“Not everyone.”

He froze. There hadn’t been a sound. There hadn’t even been movement, but he knew he was no longer alone. He slipped silently from the bed right as a woman opened the door. She was stunning in a black cocktail dress with her blonde hair pulled up into a bun with curls escaping from the pins. She looked like a fairy princess since her head barely reached his shoulder as she strode by him hiding in the shadows near the bed.

Was she his mistress? The thought made him jealous. She seemed too sweet and too innocent to be this asshole’s mistress. “Hello, Percy. I’m with the CIA. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Watch out!” Percy yelled. It was probably about him, but at that moment armed men shoved the door to the bedroom open and charged in. They weren’t CIA, that was for sure. And the fact they were trying to kill Percy told him they weren’t his private security either.

He almost moved from the shadows, but the woman spun, slicing a knife he hadn’t seen through the air as she took down man after man while issuing Percy orders. She kicked a man and sent him stumbling to where he was hiding. He used his own knife to deal with him, tossing his body to the side.

“Move your ass, Percy,” the spitfire ordered in the sweetest southern accent, not the least bit worried as three more men appeared. She punched one, sending him stumbling back where another swipe of his knife to the man’s throat took care of him. He dropped him near his buddy and continued to watch the woman work.

The woman grabbed Percy and frog marched him out into the dark hallway. He followed, taking care of two more men who were trying to sneak up on her from behind. Who was she and why was she there? Was it a coincidence she was CIA and Percy had just told him the CIA might have had a role in the embassy attack?

He followed, every now and then taking a man down. She walked Percy straight out of the villa and shoved him into an unmarked van. “Good job, Davies.”

She gave the driver a sparkling smile, wiped her knife on the grass, and slid it into a sheath strapped to her upper thigh. “And I didn’t get my cousin’s dress bloody. That’s a win since it’s a prototype for one she hopes to sell. Now, let’s go see what this asshole knows.”

The door to the van closed and they drove off.

He kept to the shadows as he made his way to the winery. He found the barrel, broke it open, and took the flash drive. Then he began an Internet search for the dress the stunning woman had been wearing. Syd, Inc. That was it. He knew her cousin and he knew her last name. Davies. A wedding announcement was the key to finding her. She smiled next to the groom, her brother, a doctor. One Cassidy Davies of Keeneston, Kentucky, who worked for the CIA. It was time to get to know Cassidy better to see if she could lead him to who he needed to kill. But first, he needed to figure out if Cassidy was on the side of good or evil. No matter how much President Stratton cleaned up the government, there were still bad people in it. And it was his sworn duty to hunt them down.