Kai (Sigma International Security #3)

Prologue Kai

I can't fucking believe my brother roped me into working security at a middle school dance.

Asshole.

Valentine's Day, no less.

Nothing says living the dream like standing around a gymnasium full of awkward seventh and eighth graders while bad pop music blasts through speakers older than the students.

At least Ego has an excuse.

His kindergarten teacher.

Sabrina.

The woman he's been making moon eyes at ever since he was assigned to protect her.

Me?

I'm here because apparently family means getting volunteered for things without your consent.

The only bright spot all night has been seeing her again.

Mary Donahue.

First-grade teacher at Our Lady of Grace Academy.

Red hair.

Curves for days.

An attitude the size of Texas.

She hates my guts.

Or at least I'm pretty sure she does.

Still.

I keep finding myself looking for her.

Which is weird.

Because Mary isn't my type.

Not even close.

Historically speaking, I go for blondes.

Fast blondes.

Women who order martinis without looking at the menu and leave before breakfast.

Not teachers.

Definitely not Catholic school teachers.

And absolutely not curvy little redheads who look like they'd put me in time-out for swearing.

Which, now that I think about it... that’s fucking hot.

Holy shit.

Fuck.

Let's not unpack that.

I spot her disappearing down one of the side hallways.

A minute later, some slimy prick in an expensive suit follows.

I don't much like it.

And when I recognize him?

I like it even less.

Joel Jonas.

Town council.

Major donor.

Connected.

The kind of rich prick who thinks money makes him charming.

Something about it bothers me.

Maybe it's instinct.

Maybe it's experience.

Either way, I follow.

Good thing I do.

Because the second I round the corner, I see her.

Cornered.

Pressed against a bank of lockers.

Joel Jonas leaning way too close.

One hand on her waist.

The other braced beside her head.

Blocking her in.

My vision goes red.

“I said stop it, Mr. Jonas!”

Mary shoves at him.

Hard.

He barely moves.

Instead, he smiles.

The smug kind.

The kind I've hated my whole life.

The kind that says he thinks he's untouchable.

I don't think.

I act.

One second I'm standing at the end of the hallway.

The next my fist is connecting with his face.

CRACK.

The sound echoes through the corridor.

Blood explodes from his nose.

Jonas drops like a sack of shit.

Silence.

Mary stares.

I stare.

Jonas groans on the floor.

“Oh my God!” Mary gasps.

“You're welcome,” I growl, shaking out my hand.

“What the hell was that?”

I blink.

“That was me solving a problem.”

“I had it handled!”

Jesus.

The woman is furious.

At me.

Not the creep.

Me.

What the fucking fuck?

“Like hell you did.”

“I did!”

“He had you trapped against a locker.”

“I was handling it professionally.”

“He had his hands on you.”

Her mouth opens.

Closes.

Then opens again.

And for a second I realize she's genuinely upset.

Not because I punched him.

Because she knows who he is.

Crap.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Immediately her expression softens.

Just a little.

“Yeah.”

Then she looks down.

“Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“That's one of the school's biggest donors.”

I look down at the unconscious asshole.

Then back at her.

“So what?”

“So what?” She hisses.

“He shouldn't be touching you like that.”

“I know, but—”

“You said no.”

“I know.”

“Then fuck him,” I growl.

Mary groans.

Actually groans.

Then she looks around like she's expecting the principal to materialize out of thin air.

“Dammit.”

“What?”

“Can you help me carry him?”

I stare at her.

“What?”

“To that chair.”

“What?” I ask again because my ears must not be working.

Why the fuck would I help this prick?

“We'll tell people he tripped,” she says, quickly concocting a plan.

I blink.

She blinks back.

“What the fuck?”

Her hands fly up.

“I know! I know how this sounds!”

“Insane?”

“Probably.”

“Definitely,” I grumble back.

“Look, I know, but will you help? Please?”

There it is.

The look.

Big green eyes.

Hopeful expression.

The exact face a pretty teacher probably uses to convince kids to eat vegetables and do their math homework.

And somehow it's aimed at me.

I should say no.

Instead, I hear myself sigh.

Then I grab Jonas under one arm.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

Mary freezes.

Shit.

Did I say that out loud?

Apparently.

Because her cheeks immediately turn pink.

And now mine are getting warm too.

Fantastic.

We haul Mr. Nosebleed into a chair.

Prop him upright.

He looks like he lost a fight with a freight train.

Good.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Mary smooths her dress.

Takes a deep breath.

Then looks at me.

Really looks at me.

And smiles.

Not the polite teacher smile.

Not the strained, professional one.

A real smile.

Bright.

Warm.

Fucking beautiful.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “I really do owe you one.”

Something in my chest shifts.

Hard.

Dangerously hard.

Uh-oh.

Because suddenly I realize something.

I'd do it again.

Hell, I'd knock out a dozen assholes.

I'd drag their bodies across a minefield.

I'd fight every rich creep in New Jersey.

Just to see her smile at me like that one more time.

Oh.

Shit.

I think I like the sassy teacher.

The night I go home alone, and my thoughts stay on her.

Mary Donahue.

Curvy little siren.

Nothing about her should call to me, but she does.

And that night, I wonder what’ll come of our little interaction for more hours than I’d care to admit.

But as it turns out, punching Joel Jonas was the easy part.

The next morning, the headlines start.

By lunch they're everywhere.

By dinner they're national.

Some asshole posted video from the dance.

Not the part where Jonas cornered Mary.

Not the part where she told him no.

Not the part where he put his hands on her.

Just the punch.

One clean shot.

One rich bastard on the floor.

One professional bodyguard looking like he snapped for no reason.

The headlines get more creative by the hour.

ELITE SIGMA OPERATIVE ATTACKS LOCAL OFFICIAL

HIGHLY TRAINED SECURITY CONTRACTOR ASSAULTS COMMUNITY LEADER

DONOR INJURED AT SCHOOL CHARITY EVENT

The best part?

Nobody asks Mary what happened.

Nobody cares.

Joel Jonas immediately goes into damage-control mode.

According to him, he was the victim.

According to him, I attacked him without provocation.

According to him, he's considering legal action.

According to me?

He can go fuck himself.

Unfortunately, nobody pays me to give interviews.

Three days later, I'm sitting in Remy Falco’s office.

He’s pissed.

I explain my part and what happened.

He leans back in his chair.

“You should've hit him harder.”

I blink.

“See? That's what I said.”

Across the room, Noel Kane pinches the bridge of his nose.

Remy sighs.

“The problem isn't that you were wrong.”

“I know. So why am I in here?”

“The problem is Joel Jonas is the nephew of Congressman Robert Jonas,” Remy explains.

I roll my eyes.

“There it is. Fucking nepo baby.”

Politics.

This is the reason nobody can have nice things.

Remy slides a tablet across the desk.

I glance at the screen.

Immediately regret it.

The video has millions of views.

Millions.

This headline might be the worst or best depending on your point of view.

KILLER SIGMA OPERATIVE ATTACKS ELECTED OFFICIAL AT SCHOOL CHARITY EVENT

I bark out a laugh.

“Attack?”

Remy points at the screen.

“Optics.”

“He fell down.”

“Kai.”

“He did.”

Noel rubs his forehead.

“The congressman's office is calling. Local media is calling. Corporate clients are calling,” Noel adds unhelpfully.

“Because I embarrassed him.”

“Because you embarrassed him publicly.”

I lean back in my chair.

This is why I hate politicians.

Nobody cares what actually happened.

Only how it looks.

Remy folds his hands.

“So here’s the deal. You are officially on administrative leave.”

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

Noel nods.

“That's about the reaction I expected.”

“For how long?”

“Thirty days.”

Thirty.

Freaking.

Days.

I hate everything right now.

Remy points at me.

“Lay low.”

“I don't do low.”

“You better fucking learn how.”

I look away before I say something that'll turn thirty days into sixty.

That's when I notice the article attached beneath the video.

There's a photo.

Mary.

She’s standing behind Jonas.

Looking upset.

The story's already changing.

Already twisting.

Already turning a creep into a victim.

Something ugly settles in my chest.

Because I know men like Joel Jonas.

Money protects them.

Power protects them.

Connections protect them.

And something tells me this isn't over.

Not by a long shot.

Especially not where Mary Donahue is concerned.

The thought hits me harder than it should.

I don't like it.

Don't understand it.

But I know one thing.

If Joel Jonas thinks I'm going to go away quietly while he goes after that woman?

He's about to have a very disappointing month.