Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Colt
Engagement rings are expensive. I don’t give a shit about the money, but I didn’t realize I could buy a house—somewhere other than Los Angeles—for the money I’m about to drop on Briar’s ring. Atlas is haggling with the jeweler, someone he uses exclusively, and they seem to enjoy the back and forth.
The prices are making my head spin, but I want Briar to have the most beautiful ring imaginable.
In fact, I want her and Frankie to have everything I can possibly provide, which is why I’m considering becoming a partner in Dash’s security business.
He protested when I told him I wanted to give him cash for half the value of the company, and we did a bit of haggling too.
Next week, we’re going to see a financial planner that Atlas recommended to sort out the details.
Deep down, I think it will be good for us. He feels like he’s helping me, even though I’ve had more private security job offers in the last two weeks than most people have in their entire lives. Word got out through the marine grapevine, and my phone hasn’t stopped buzzing.
Working with Dash feels like the right move, though.
He’s family.
The brother I chose and soon he’ll be my brother-in-law legally too.
Things are finally falling into place, both personally and professionally.
My body is still healing, but I’m a lot better and I’ve started gaining stamina and rebuilding the muscle I lost in that Russian hell hole.
That’s another thing that Dash and I have been sharing lately.
As usual, Briar was right; he just needed to feel needed.
Now that he does, we’re back on an even keel.
It won’t always be like this, but short-term, it’s turned out to be a good thing for both of us.
I’m also seeing a therapist.
I was resistant at first—tough guys don’t go to therapy—but Briar’s words resonated in a way that nothing else had.
“You need to be your best self for me and Frankie.”
Yeah, I absolutely do, and if therapy is one of the ways I get there, I’m all in.
I finally asked Dash, who got a name from Royal, who got it from Atlas.
Only one appointment so far but I like her.
Turns out she’s an Air Force veteran with some trauma of her own, making it a lot easier for me to open up.
She said everything I’m going through—the nightmares, occasional anxiety, frustration with my physical injuries—is all normal.
She also expressed that she thinks I’m doing great, all things considered.
Which is a relief because I don’t want to be a burden on Briar or Frankie. Frankie needs her dad and there’s nothing I won’t do to make sure I’m the father she both needs and wants. It still hits me right in the feels every time she calls me Daddy.
“You’re sure you want the platinum?” the jeweler is asking me.
I snap back to the present and nod. “Yes. Everything she owns is either platinum or silver. She says gold doesn’t go well with her skin.”
The jeweler nods and presents me with an invoice.
I pull out my brand new platinum American Express card and hand it to him.
“This is a big step,” Atlas says to me.
“It’s time. Past time for Briar and me.”
He shakes his head. “Look at this—the five of us essentially all wifed up. How the fuck did this happen?”
“We met some very special women.”
“That we did.” He’s thoughtful. “You know, I have to tell you something… Originally, the idea of you and Briar together kind of grossed me out. But now…”
“Now?” I’m curious about his thought process since I know he’s come to terms with everything.
“Now it feels right—I don’t know that there’s anyone else that I would truly trust with her. Anyone else I would be a thousand percent confident would never hurt her, physically or otherwise.”
“Never gonna happen,” I growl.
“I know. That’s why it’s right.”
“I tried not to love her,” I admit. “But the harder I tried not to love her the stronger the feelings got, until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”
“If things had gone down differently in Russia, what was your plan with regard to her?”
“I was going to talk to Dash the minute I got back.”
“He would’ve been pissed off back then too.”
We chuckle, because he’s right.
Thankfully, that nonsense is over now. Dash and I are spending a lot of time together again. Just like the old days. It’s a relief for Briar too because it stressed her out when we were at odds.
The jeweler disappears into the back to package up the ring just as Atlas’s phone rings.
“It’s Briar,” he says, grimacing.
“Go ahead and take it. We don’t want her to get suspicious. We’re done here anyway. I’ll be out as soon as he finishes up whatever he’s doing.”
“Okay.” He puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
I fidget while the jeweler runs my card and finally comes out with the ring nestled in an ornate gift bag.
“Thank you,” I say.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Blackwood.”
“Likewise.”
I’ve been dreaming about marrying Briar for years and I’ve just taken a major step toward making that happen. And I can’t wait to propose.
Atlas has been throwing ideas at me—all completely ridiculous and over-the-top—so I’m trying to come up with a plan that falls somewhere between asking her while I’m deep inside her and renting out the top of the Eiffel Tower.
It has to be something romantic but private, because I know she’ll want it to be just us.
I’ve tossed around the idea of asking Frankie but decided Briar needs the whole romantic gesture first. Then we can talk to Frankie.
As much as I love my kid, a four-and-three-quarters-year-old is not telling me whether or not I can marry her mom.
I walk outside and my step falters.
Atlas is standing next to his Bentley, hands on his hips. There’s a nondescript black sedan parked next to him, a man in sunglasses standing beside it, and Atlas does not look at all amused.
Oh, hell.
I recognize the guy right away.
My handler.
What. The. Fuck.
I stride in their direction with a scowl.
“What are you doing here, Forrester?” I demand.
“You know this douche waffle?” Atlas asks, peering at me over the top of his sunglasses.
“I do.” I turn back to Nathan Forrester. “So? What’s going on? I told you I’m out.”
“I know.” He holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “But this is different.”
“It’s not. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with—”
“Colt, it’s Igor.”
This time I freeze, my gaze snapping to his.
“What?”
He holds out his phone. “This came in this morning through back channels.”
The picture on the screen makes my blood run cold.
Igor, my old teammate and the man who got me out of Siberian hell, is in chains, hanging from the ceiling of what looks like an old warehouse.
His face is beaten beyond recognition, but I recognize the tattoo of an eagle on his right shoulder and biceps—it’s the mascot from our college hockey team. So, it’s definitely him.
There are bloody wounds all over his torso, his feet are bare and dirty, and there’s a pool of blood below him.
No one has to tell me it’s bad.
Or that he’s going to die if someone doesn’t stage a rescue operation.
“Do we know where he is?” I ask, my training kicking in automatically. “Where did the intel come from?”
“We have an idea.” Forrester gives me a quick rundown.
“I need an hour or two,” I say.
“Colt.” Atlas’s voice is low, tight, but he saw the picture. He has to understand.
“I know,” I say without looking at him. “But I wouldn’t be here if not for Igor.”
“Call me when you’re ready for me to pick you up,” Forrester says. “We have a plane waiting to take us to D.C. And you can pick your team.”
I don't even hesitate because I’m going off the books with this one. “Landon Grimshaw and Elliott Rageis.”
Forrester is one of those suit types who never smiles. He literally epitomizes everything stereotypical about spy organizations. But when I mention Grim and Rage, he almost smiles. Almost.
“I need to get home,” I tell Atlas.
He grimaces. “What are you going to tell Briar?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Yeah, and it’s not going to be good enough.
Briar and Frankie are my priorities, but this is a debt of honor—it’s not optional.
Igor risked his life to get me out of Russia.
If not for him, I wouldn’t have Briar and Frankie.
One last mission, I tell myself blandly. Please forgive me, baby.