Chapter 7
GRIZZ
Kira joins us for dinner that night, and I’d like to believe it was the smell of my beef pot roast that tempted her.
It’s a fancier meal than I usually make. Atlas and Viper noticed the extra fuss, but didn’t give me any shit about it.
“Clothes fit okay?” Atlas asks Kira. After her shower, she put on blue sweatpants and a long-sleeve white shirt, and both hug her curves like a Hellcat on a mountain road. Yeah, they fit good.
“Yes, thank you. They’re comfortable, too.” Her golden hair falls to her shoulders in loose waves, framing her pale face, looking impossibly soft.
Seeing her cleaned up, a hint of warm color in her cheeks, is as much of a relief as setting down a heavy load after a ten-mile hike. Dinner is like a fucking celebration.
Atlas pulls out a chair for her, and she sits. She looks around at the other nine chairs at our dining table, but doesn’t say anything.
Viper sits on her right, his posture rigid. Atlas takes a chair to her left, and I settle in across from them, where I have the best view of our guest.
Kira’s hands, one still bandaged and sealed from the shower, rest on the table. She gives me a small smile. “Dinner smells amazing.”
“Hope you’re hungry,” Atlas says as he lifts the lid off the pot I put in the middle of the table. “Grizz knows his way around the kitchen.”
She nods, polite but hesitant. Her first meal with three strangers after the trauma she’s been through? She’s pushing herself to be out here with us, and I respect the hell out of that.
We all dig in, and the table’s quiet for a few minutes apart from Kira complimenting the food. With the bruises on her jaw in mind, I cooked the meat until it was fall-apart tender.
Atlas makes some small talk about the weather, and I join in. After another break in conversation, Kira clears her throat.
“So the three of you live here together? And run a business here?”
Atlas is the one to answer. “We served together in the Marines. Long time ago now. After we got out, we started doing security consulting.”
Her brows knit, thoughtful. “Security … like guards?”
“We specialize in risk assessment and threat analysis,” Atlas explains. “We also do surveillance.”
“We help people who need it,” I add.
She processes this for a few seconds. “Does anyone else know you found me?”
Atlas pauses, fork in hand. “No, ma’am. We understand you needed to run from someone, and we intend to keep you safe.” As her shoulders relax, he says, “To protect you properly, we need to know who you were running from.”
Her hands are trembling. Viper slides her glass of water closer to her without saying a word.
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “My fiancé. Ex-fiancé. Preston Vaughn.”
Viper glances at Atlas. No surprise, only confirmation. With her first name and the clues of her expensive clothing and jewelry, and her wedding date, Viper found the wedding announcement online.
“The senator,” Viper says.
Kira nods. “He’d asked me to come and show him my gown before the ceremony.” Bitterness seeps into her tone as her voice grows louder. “Probably to make sure I presented the right image.”
Her bandaged hand closes into a fist, and the room goes deadly silent.
My jaw clenches as I fight the urge to break something.
“I went looking for him and overheard him talking to someone. They were discussing deals. Illegal ones. I heard the other man—I don’t know who he was, and I never saw him—mention an assassination.”
Viper doesn’t move, but his eyes narrow like a hawk spotting prey. “What else did you hear?”
“The other man mentioned Colombia. Preston said something about getting rid of a journalist. I also heard him mention the Department of Defense and offshore accounts.”
“Jesus.” Atlas pushes back from the table but stays in his chair.
“Preston heard me, knew I was listening. I panicked and ran back to the room where I’d gotten dressed, and he followed me. He turned into someone I’d never seen before.”
Tears are pooling in her eyes, and I want to smash something. Instead, I reach across the table and briefly lay a hand on hers. “You don’t need to tell us details, unless you want to.”
“He … he gave me a choice. Marry him for spousal privilege … or he’s going to kill me.”
I grip the edge of the table so hard it creaks. The thought of someone threatening her, especially now, when she’s pregnant and vulnerable … it triggers something black inside me.
Atlas works his jaw side to side, swallowing down the same impulses I am.
“I have no doubt he meant it.” Kira’s hand goes to her belly.
“I played along. Told him I still wanted to marry him. That, of course, I’d keep his secrets.
While I’ve been resting here, I’ve been looking back, and I realized how controlling he’d been, even before that.
He shaped how I dressed, how I spent my time.
He isolated me from my friends. I only had one good friend left to be in the wedding. ”
I grit my teeth. I know isolation. Makes you doubt your own worth. Question your instincts.
“Brianna Thomas?” Viper asks her.
Kira goes white as her head whips toward him. “How do you …”
“Vehicle registration,” he says.
After taking a beat to recover, she lets out a small breath.
“Right. She was my matron of honor. Before I went looking for Preston, she went out to make a phone call, to check on her kids. After … after my encounter with Preston, he left me alone to go see about having something new sent for me to wear. I spotted Brianna’s purse, and in a panic, I took her keys. I stole her car.”
“Smart,” Viper murmurs.
“Brave,” I add.
“I wasn’t brave. I was terrified.” Kira scrapes a hand over her forehead, through her hair. “And I stole her car, and I wrecked it.”
“You did what you had to do,” Atlas says. “That was a hell of a storm. The important thing is that you’re safe.”
“Is the car …?”
“We’d have recovered it if we could,” Viper says. “There was a heavy rain when temperatures rose, and a landslide took it over the cliff.”
“Damn.” She shakes her head, dismayed. Still not defeated.
“Do you know anything else about the senator’s dealings?” Viper asks.
Kira shakes her head. “Maybe I’m an idiot, but everything I heard on my wedding day came as a complete shock.”
I try, and fail, to keep the fury from my voice. “You’re not an idiot. Preston Vaughn is, if he thinks he can get away with what he did to you.”
To counter my outburst, Atlas is gentle. “You said earlier you don’t have family?”
She sits taller. “My mother died when I was little. My father left. An aunt took me in, but made it clear she didn’t want me there. I left as soon as I could.”
I get it. God, do I get it.
“Family isn’t always about blood.” My voice comes out rougher than I expect. “It’s also about people who show up.”
There are a million things hiding behind her weary eyes when she looks at me. It seems like she has memories she’d rather forget, just like I do.
I look away before she can see whatever damned expression is on my face. I spent my childhood trying to protect kids I couldn’t save, and something about Kira’s bravery is cracking me wide open.
I want to protect her. Not because she needs it, but because she deserves it.
She could be someone I’d fight for.
Atlas leads the dinner conversation back to lighter topics, and Kira manages to eat a healthy amount of the pot roast.
She offers to help do the dishes, but there’s no way that’s happening.
When she goes back to her room to rest, the three of us regroup, our battlefield-briefing instincts kicking in.
Viper gets right to it. “We’re not just helping an abuse victim. We’re harboring a witness to federal crimes.”
Atlas nods once. “What’s the chatter?”
“Nothing. No mention of the wedding being canceled.”
“Missing persons report?”
Viper shakes his head. “Not a damn thing.”
The implication lands like a bomb, and my hands curl into fists. “Motherfucker wants to find her without anyone knowing.”
Atlas’s expression is grim. “After what she heard, there’s no way he’s going to let it drop.”
I glance toward the hall, cracking my knuckles. “Then we get ready for company.”