Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Keira
“Position Beta, I need an update on our status.”
I pressed the button on my earpiece. “You got an update two minutes ago, Home Base.”
“Exactly,” Trace said in my ear. “This mission is critical. I don’t think I need to emphasize that, Position Beta.”
“These code names are making me yawn,” another voice chimed in. “Keira, you should be Barfly One. And Trace, I’m thinking…Papa Bear. Or Helicopter Dad.”
“Get off the comm, River,” Trace growled. I tried to keep a straight face.
“Is this really a wise use of Protector resources, Trace?” River asked. “Spying on your teenage daughter?”
“Riv, don’t make me come over there. Keira, I want my update.”
“Copy that, Papa Bear,” I said under my breath, smothering a giggle. I checked the view in the mirror behind the bar. “Targets are stationary and secure. No change in status.”
“Roger that. Maintain surveillance.”
“Wilco.”
I was sitting at the end of the bar in a busy roadhouse, nursing a nonalcoholic beer.
The interior was all rustic wood paneling, neon beer signs hanging above the bar, and low lighting that caught against the liquor bottles and the smiles of the people around me.
Classic rock played from the speakers, just loud enough to compete with conversation.
A typical Hart County Saturday night.
My sister Stephie and her best friend Vivian were sitting at one of the dining tables on a double date.
The girls were eighteen now, soon to be high school graduates in just a few months.
But they were out tonight with a couple of ranch hands who were over twenty-one, according to the background checks Trace had run on them as soon as he’d gotten their names.
Poor Vivian. Having a former CIA operative for a dad could not be easy.
To be fair, I was protective of my sister. I liked to think that I didn’t smother Stephie. But when Trace had proposed this little operation to keep an eye on the girls, I certainly hadn’t said no.
The girls had tried to keep the double date a secret, probably because the guys were older. My mom had no clue. But really, did Stephie and Vivian think the rest of us couldn’t figure out something was up?
They wanted to stretch their wings, but it was our job to make sure they didn’t stretch too far. Break something that couldn’t be unbroken.
At eighteen, Stephie was a legal adult, but I just…wasn’t ready to let go of my baby sister yet.
“Evening.” A man slid onto the stool beside me, giving me a curious smile. I lifted my chin, but otherwise ignored him.
The weight of my concealed weapon was a reassuring presence as I shifted on the stool. The holster sat snug against my ribs, hidden beneath my jacket. Even when I was out of uniform, I was still an officer. It was ingrained in how I thought, how I saw the world.
Of course, that didn’t mean I was good enough to be a Protector.
The Last Refuge Protectors were a secret group devoted to defending and protecting people in trouble. Those who needed help but had nowhere else to turn. Whom law enforcement had failed. I saw cases like that way too often, and I’d always wanted to do more.
Trace Novo was their leader, and he was willing to use me for the odd one-off mission. But no matter what I’d done to prove myself in the last few years, I was still just Deputy Marsh. Never one of them.
While I watched the girls through the mirror, I glanced around at the other people at the bar, paying attention to the various scenes and conversations going on. Observing body language, noting who was drinking too much, watching for trouble.
There was one guy in the corner I’d clocked as soon as I’d walked in. He was well dressed in a pair of jeans, a blazer, and a pristine cowboy hat. A gaudy diamond shone from one earlobe, and stubble artfully framed his square jaw.
The rhinestone cowboy had a little cadre of admirers around him. A couple of yes-men who laughed at everything the guy said, and a growing circle of fawning women.
I couldn’t say exactly what it was about the guy that set off my alarm bells, but it was something.
By the time my eyes returned to Stephie and Vivian’s table, baskets of food had arrived. Their dates were tucking into burgers and fries.
But Vivian and Stephie were sitting there frozen, staring in my direction.
Uh oh.
I pressed the button on my earpiece. “Papa Bear, be advised. Cover may be compromised,” I said, just as footsteps stomped behind me and an indignant voice spoke.
“Keira, what are you doing here?”
“Yep. Definitely blown,” I murmured, before swiveling on my barstool and giving my sister and her best friend an apologetic grin. “Wow, you two are here? Of all the roadhouses in the county. Huh. What a coincidence.”
Stephie crossed her arms, lipsticked mouth creasing into a frown. “You’re the worst liar ever, Kiki.”
“Probably not the worst.”
“You could be out on a date or doing something fun of your own for once. Instead of spying on us.”
“But spying on you is something fun,” I pointed out, because it was kinda true. I did love a clandestine mission, and I rarely got to participate.
“Are you on comms with my dad?” Vivian was eyeing my earpiece. “Tell him I’m fine. And that he’s pathological, and I’m going to tell Mom on him.”
“Uh, did you hear that, Papa Bear?”
“Roger,” Trace said without emotion. “Tell her she’d better be home by curfew.”
River Kwon, the Protectors’ resident hacker, was snickering in the background.
I sighed. Probably time to abort this op.
Actually, it turned out to be a good thing the girls had spotted me.
Their dates came over to introduce themselves, and they seemed like nice guys.
Clean-cut, polite, work-roughened hands.
They confirmed there wouldn’t be any alcohol tonight.
They were all drinking soda. And they’d definitely have Vivian and Stephie back by curfew, not a minute late.
After the four of them wolfed down their food, they took off, reporting they’d get dessert at an ice cream place on Hartley’s Main Street. I’d already given Trace a last update, assuring him I felt confident the girls were okay.
After that, I took out the earpiece and tucked it in my pocket, settling in to finish the rest of my drink.
“Was that your younger sister?”
I turned to glance at the guy sitting on the stool beside me. “What gave it away?” I deadpanned, sipping from my can. Was he making a reference to the brown skin tone Stephie and I shared?
He was probably in his thirties, handsome in a rugged way. A trimmed beard. Calloused hands with just a few traces of dirt under his fingernails. Looked like a working man out to relax for a night. His eyes were a blue so pale they were almost silver, and he had a tiny scar below his right eye.
“Just that you’ve got the same nose. Same ears.”
“Ears?”
He laughed. “Sorry. That probably sounds strange. I wasn’t staring. Not too much, at least.”
The interest in his pale eyes was clear.
He’d left the other seat next to him empty. Maybe he was expecting someone to join him. A buddy or a girlfriend. But a glance at his ring finger showed no wedding ring there.
He wore a ring on his right hand, though. It was large and gold with a flattened blue gemstone in the middle. Like a class ring. There were markings around the gem, but I couldn’t read them, and I’d studied the guy enough.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
I considered it. He was attractive. Seemed nice. Do something fun for once, Stephie had said.
But no. No, I wasn’t interested.
I moved my eyes to the mirror instead, going back to watching the rest of the room. “Thanks. I shouldn’t.”
He shrugged and turned away, still smiling. After he finished his drink, he got up and left. So, that was that.
I knew what else my sister would say, if she were the one spying on me. Little sisters could give their share of lectures too and believe me, mine did.
It’s been two years. You should be over him.
A harsh laugh from one of the tables caught my attention again.
It was the wealthy cowboy’s table. In the mirror, I watched a server approach him, carrying a tray laden with shot glasses.
The man said something to her, his diamond stud glinting, and while she was setting her tray on the table, he put his hand on her butt and squeezed.
Uh, excuse me?
I started to get up, instantly furious at the guy’s audacity. But the waitress whirled on him, her face flushed. She said something sharp, jabbing her finger at his chest, and he held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing.
“Did you see that?” I asked the bartender.
“Yep. Misty can handle herself. Otherwise I’d go over there.
” He was wiping down the bar with a rag.
“That guy’s a jerk,” he murmured, dipping his head.
“In here a lot, unfortunately. If it were up to me, I’d tell him to stuff it and get lost, but he knows a lot of people.
Phelan is his name. Donny Phelan. Some kind of famous podcaster. ”
“Are you serious?” I asked, settling back onto my seat. “A famous podcaster? He lives around here?”
Hart County wasn’t that populous, but it was a big place.
Hartley and Silver Ridge were two of the larger towns, and I’d lived in both at various times.
I patrolled all over as a deputy for the county.
I knew a lot of different corners of this region, but I hadn’t been to this roadhouse before.
Didn’t know all the local characters here either.
Which was probably the reason Stephie and Vivian had chosen this spot for their secret date.
“Phelan moved to a huge property last year,” the bartender said, “but from what I hear, he’s originally from the Midwest. He makes his money doing some kind of online show, ranting about current events.
Got quite a following, I guess. Throws money around like it’s nothing.
” He shook his head. “Doesn’t make him any less of a creep. ”
I filed that information away and sipped my nonalcoholic beer, keeping one eye on Donny Phelan in the mirror.
Stephie and Vivian had left a while ago, and I’d planned to take off after I finished my drink. But instead, I stuck around for a soda with lime. See, Stephie? I’m enjoying my evening.
Unfortunately, the bar was louder and even more crowded than earlier. The crowd seemed rougher now. Definitely drunker.
But at least the podcaster jerk hadn’t groped Misty the server again. Or anyone else that I’d seen.
I was ready to get out of here. I’d had more than enough excitement for one night.
“You need someone to walk you out?” the bartender asked as I dropped some bills to cover my tab and a generous tip.
“I’m all right. But thanks.”
He nodded. “Drive safe out there.”
“Will do. Have a nice night.”
The parking lot was dark, lit only by moonlight and the lights near the restaurant’s entrance. My car was parked toward the back, and the gravel crunched under my boots as I walked.
The temperature had dropped, and my breath misted in the cold air. Then I heard raised voices coming from behind the building.
“I said no.” It was a woman’s voice.
“Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to be friendly.”
My hand instinctively went to my side where my weapon rested. As I rounded a pickup truck, I saw them. Donny Phelan had Misty backed up against a car, his hand wrapped around her wrist. “Just give me your number. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Let go of me,” she said, trying to pull away. There was a dumpster nearby and a dropped bag of trash, like Misty had been taking it out. And this asshole decided to sneak up on her.
Unbelievable.
“Hey. Sir.” I kept my voice calm but firm as I approached. My cop voice, Stephie always called it. “She asked you to let go. You need to back off.”
Donny turned, his expression shifting from predatory to irritated. “This doesn’t concern you, sweetheart. Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“I’m making it my business.” I stepped closer. “Let her go. Now.”
He tightened his grip on Misty’s wrist instead, and that was all I needed.
Moving fast, I grabbed his arm and twisted it with practiced efficiency, applying just enough pressure to make him release her. He yelped, stumbling back.
Misty bolted, running back toward the bar without a word.
“What the hell?” Donny cradled his wrist, his face contorted with anger. “Who the hell do you think you are, little girl? I should call the sheriff on you for assault.”
“Please do.” I pulled back my jacket just enough to show him the holster at my side. “I happen to work for Sheriff Douglas. Deputy Keira Marsh, at your service. And if I were you, I’d get in my car and go home before I decide to run a field sobriety test on you.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
For a moment, I thought he might argue. His jaw worked, hands clenching into fists. But then he backed toward a sleek Porsche SUV. “This isn’t over,” he said, pointing at me. “I know people. Important people. You just made a big mistake.”
“Get in your car.”
He did, slamming the door hard enough to make the frame shudder. The engine roared to life, and he peeled out of the parking lot, gravel spitting from his tires.
I stood there in the darkness, watching his taillights disappear down the road. My heart was pounding, adrenaline singing through my veins.
Despite the noise and voices coming from the bar, the parking lot was now quiet. I strode toward my car and got in, hitting the locks.
Donny Phelan was gone. But as I drove out of the gravel lot, I could’ve sworn I still felt hostile eyes on me.