A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(24)

“Already got one.”

“He’s pissed. Rightly so. Everyone’s pretending to accept Lindsay’s fake story about an ‘attacker,’ but that’s her one shot. Another mess like this and you’re toast.”

“You mean she is.”

“Yeah.” His voice turns sad. “Yeah. She’s in an impossible bind.”

I flinch. He frowns, puzzled, then pulls back, blinking hard.

“Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

A vision of Lindsay bound and tied by those animals makes my blood race. The twitchiness overcomes all the alcohol in my system and I start to breathe hard. Grabbing a glass, I pour myself water from the pitcher in my fridge and guzzle it down.

Mark just watches me.

“You really love her.”

“Of course.” My voice comes out like ice chips, one piece per syllable. “You knew that.”

“It’s one thing to be told something. It’s very different to watch it.”

“That obvious?”

“You might as well wear her panties on your head.”

I’m in the middle of a swallow and come out choking, hard. That image is way better than my previous one, so I’ll go with that.

“Doubt the senator would appreciate it,” I cough out.

“You’d get fired. Surprised you’re not. And if you keep it up, Drew, you’ll be arrested for assault.”

“You’re playing the puritan with me? The guy who broke into his own father’s motorcycle club compound so he could rescue his brother’s girlfriend from a drug dealer who planned to take her virginity to cure his HIV/AIDS?”

He nods slowly. “When you put it that way, I’m a hypocrite.”

“When I put it ANY way, you’re f*cking crazy.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “We both are. We know that. Always have been, especially since Afghanistan.”

“And since both of us had parents who died in mysterious car crashes.”

Mark’s eyes go dark. “And that,” he spits out. The coincidence was too pat to be anything but a careful targeting. Mark was already my commanding officer and delivered the news, followed by his own hollow story that mimicked what happened to my mom and dad, only it was his mother and stepfather.

Grief has a funny way of going underground when you’re in battle. They sent me home for the funeral. I grieved with my sister in private, handled a few legalities, and requested to be sent back to the front lines.

Lindsay was still on the Island.

I had no one to talk to back home.

Combat was a better place to express my emotions. Sniper training proved cathartic.

“Between my parents, your parents, and Lindsay’s brake line failure, looks like we’ve got someone in high places targeting all of us.”

“Us?” Mark grabs a glass and fills it with water, our conversation obviously not over. “You think I’m still some kind of target?” His eyes flicker with worry, then settle back into a blank stare.

“Not sure.”

“You think Carrie -- ”

“You live next door to your brother now, right?”

“Right.”

“He’s good?” Mark knows what I am really asking.

“He’d shred anyone who tried to touch Carrie or Allie. No training, but solid instincts.”

“He looking for a job?”

Mark laughs, tipping his head back, setting the glass down. “No. Chase has his life planned. No need to draw him into this.”

“And your dad?” Mark’s biological father was one of the deepest undercover CIA agents in agency history. He’d become a motorcycle club president in Southern California and had been instrumental in the assassination of the biggest international drug lord in U.S. history.

El Brujo.

Chase’s girlfriend had actually killed El Brujo, but credit went to Galt, to protect her.

“Galt’s gone. Well hidden, far from here.”

“Good. That’s where he should be.”

“Don’t want to talk about Galt.”

“Don’t want to talk about Lindsay,” I say, mimicking him.

He shrugs. “We need to figure out who’s behind all this, and if that means getting close to her to get info, you might have to do it.”

“Like you did with Carrie when you were trying to get her father convicted?”

He winces.

“I take that back.”

“You damn well better. I’m not jeopardizing my relationship with her for the sake of a mission.”

Cold eyes meet mine.

“Then you’re not the soldier I once knew.”

“Maybe that soldier wasn’t as good as you thought.”

I grunt.

“Drew.” He says my name like it’s a threat.

I turn away, going into my bedroom, ignoring him. He doesn’t follow, and by the time I’m in running shorts, a t-shirt, and have my hydropack water system on, Mark’s gone. I look out my front window just in time to see him climb into a giant black SUV, one I recognize from Harry’s security detail.

A vague sense of unease fills my pores.

Time to run it off.





Chapter 8