Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4 (21 page)

“And, once again, you see proof Teresa is not money-motivated. Aren’t you interested in the amount of retainer fee?” Bas teased, guessing my answer.

“No, absolutely not. Between my savings, and monthly income from the exorbitant rent PreClan pays to lease the Cave, I’m not concerned in the slightest. Henry, if you can make sure Russ gets the necessary bank information, I’d appreciate it.” So nice having him take over the household accounts. “Russ, simply make an automatic deposit and I’ll shake my head about the money some other time. For now, I’m far more concerned with how I might be able to help.”

“Glad to have you on board,” Gwyn congratulated. “You’re, un-officially, a Wild Horse.”

“What about security clearances?” David asked. “We should probably start the process to ease her into some of the top secret operations which may come under consideration in the meetings. No reflection on you, Teresa, but we have signed nondisclosure agreements on some portions of our projects containing restricted information. For example, because I’m a member of the Trough, I know Russ has a few contracts which require a specific top secret clearance level for each think tank attendee.”

I was vacillating between being annoyed David didn’t feel I was trustworthy, and understanding the military had rules—and let’s face it, many of Russ’ contracts probably overlapped with military operations. But, before I could get upset over my assumption that David wanted to exclude me from the discussions, he totally diffused my anger, as he continued, “If you get the higher-level clearances for Teresa, Russ, you can include her in some of our more intricate meetings where her perspective may really benefit the group discussions. Or, am I the only one who’s noticed we’ve spent two conference calls regarding the Fargo project, without any new ideas crossing the table?”

Talk about a complete turnaround. Is this the same David who insisted on sheltering me by excluding me from Team Red mission discussions? Was he finally letting go enough he didn’t feel the need to protect me? Maybe those protective urges had transferred to Marcia, who truly seemed to need him? Will the real David Preston, please stand up? While I battled with internal dialog, the conversation continued around me.

“Colonel Spencer already hired Wild Horse Security, last November, to do an initial enquiry on Teresa before your BAWG assignment. He was dazzled by the talking dog, but he’s a creature of habit, and had me do a detailed investigation. I believe his intent was clearing her for some secret, and top secret, missions in the future. She currently has confidential clearance. I gathered enough information and interviews to probably gain her secret clearance. I’d like to try for top secret, Teresa. It’s more intrusive for you, but you have a very clean background, so I feel it will go through effortlessly. As David mentioned, it opens up more possibilities for you as a Wild Horse consultant. I’m sure the colonel would be ecstatic also.”

“There’s a bazillion pages for the clearance forms, but we can get started on the paperwork, tomorrow,” Gwyn offered. “We need more estrogen in the meetings.”

My head was spinning. Security paperwork, a new consulting job, and Wild Horse’s involvement in screening Team Red jobs. Things were moving quickly.

The meeting continued, focused toward improving Team Red security. By the time we finished, I had a fresh appreciation for the talented men who comprised my detail.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Teresa, can we talk?”

A hand grasped my shoulder to prevent me from walking away from the conference table, startling me so badly, I made a whimpering girly-noise squeak. How embarrassing. I automatically crowded closer to Bastian, who tucked me against his chest, as he swung us around to confront the asshole who frightened me.

“Could you possibly be more insensitive, David?” Bas snarled sarcastically. “Fuck, man, she was plucked off the property a few days ago, and you sneak up behind her, grabbing her without warning? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Damn, Bas. I’m sorry,” David stammered.

“Apologizing to the wrong person, dude.” Bas’ embrace loosened enough to allow me to turn toward David. Even holding me secure along his side, Bastian retained an awareness of my aches and bruises, his touch was light and soothing. “You okay, Babe? You’re a little pale.”

“I’m not hurt, only startled. I’m a bundle of nerves lately.”

“God, Teresa, I’m so sorry,” David apologized, voice heavy with remorse. “Bas is right, I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m fine, David. And yes, we need to talk. How about after lunch?” I tilted my face toward Bastian, “Will the upstairs office be free this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I’ll work down here in the Cave. Red brought four military-grade drones to me earlier, and I want to look them over for viability so I’ll need my tools.”

“Perfect, thank you. Can you also let Jim know? I think he’s only using the room for sleep, but I don’t want to intrude on his space.”

Realizing David was unaware of the family-level room rearrangement, I clarified, “David, we can have privacy in Bastian’s old bedroom. It’s been converted to an office for you and him to get away from the Cave chaos. Doc Jim is sleeping on the pullout bed while he’s here, and I suspect he has a few consultations with Mustangs too. The original office is now Henry’s room.”

“I was hoping we could have a casual discussion in the window seat,” he referred to the glassed-in alcove in my bedroom; one of our favorite places to talk and relax. I was surprised by his hand wrapping my forearm in entreaty. Besides being presumptuous, he grabbed the arm I’d used to block one of the blows Adamson threw, so I flinched at his unintentionally painful grip.

“What the hell?” David wondered aloud, as his hand immediately pulled back from my response.

I expected Bas’ anger, but he simply sighed and said, “You haven’t looked at the video we recorded, have you?”

“No. I got Marcia and Wes to bed last night, and crashed soon afterward,” David admitted.

“Got film of the highlights,” Frost interjected from my right, probably taking his normal place when he noticed David’s carelessness. “We’ll make popcorn. Should see it before lunch,” Frost insisted. “Now’s good for me.” Frost brushed past me, using his body to force an unresisting David toward the computer monitors. “Brain, queue up ‘Kickass Girl.’ The abridged version.”

“You got it, Frost.” Brain answered, from his favorite spot along the north wall of monitors.

With David outmaneuvered for now, I felt my tense muscles unclench. Bas’ hand dropped to my lower spine to guide me to the first stair.

“I’ve got the best view in the house,” the lewd Mr. Declan growled from a few feet behind, and below, me. If I could see, I’m pretty sure a glance over my shoulder would have shown Bas eye-level with my ass.

“Letch,” I accused, with a grin.

“Guilty,” came the unrepentant rejoinder.

I continued up the stairs to my bedroom, Bas close on my heels. “I thought you had to work. Why are you following me, stalker boy?”

“Needed to hold you.” He pulled me gently to his chest. “Hug you.” He folded his arms around my body. “Kiss you.” Lips pressed to mine in an explosion of peppermint, coffee, and a hint of maple bar. “And, remind you that you’re loved.” His tongue speared boldly into my mouth, blanketing me with his passion and heat.

My breathing was heavy, pulse beating like a wild beast against cage bars. This man made me breathless with anticipation—which, upon reflection, was no doubt his master plan to finally get me in bed. My body was in complete agreement, sundry aches and pains entirely forgotten.

“What will you be doing before lunch?” Bas asked, as we held each other, waiting for our bodies to calm.

“Jim and I are going to take a walk,” I whispered into the wall of his chest.

Bas’ body stilled. “You sure, Babe?”

“Yeah,” I answered, although, even to my own ears, I didn’t sound convincing. “Jim will be with me. Fritz and Dex will be watching.” My lips tilted up in a smug grin. “And, now that you know I’ll be outside, I’m sure every available Mustang, drone, and camera will be following our progress.”

“You got that right, Babe. I’ll probably be more nervous than you until I meet you back at the kitchen.” Bastian’s hands slid up my arms, followed the curve of my neck, and slipped over my jaw to position my lips for his leisurely ravishment. “I love you, Teresa March. Be safe, I’ll see you in a few hours at lunch. Don’t be late, Gwyn and Ken made lasagna. I don’t expect it will last long once they put the first pans out.”

I smirked, “I have loyal Team Red guards and every confidence they will save me a piece. Frost will, anyway. He’s always got my back.” My voice lowered, to share a confidence. “He’s my favorite, you know. Frost reminds me of you, for some reason. He’s quieter, and uses his damn words like he was only given a handful at birth and he wants to make sure they last for his lifetime, but there’s a confident intensity which convinces me I’m safe if he’s watching.”

“Frost and Dex are your most competent guards. If Frost had been watching the monitors the morning you were taken, I have no doubt he’d have instinctively known, almost immediately, something was wrong. The man has crazy intuition. As it was, he heard Ralph mention you seemed to be investigating something in the gully, and Frost had everyone ready to hit the snow before your first boot came flying over the ridge. Would have caught up, if we’d had snow mobiles.”

I tumbled his words in my brain for a moment. It was my understanding all the Mustangs were more than qualified, and my detail was comprised of men who specialized in personal protection. “Are you equating competent with dangerous?”

Bas’ chest rocked with laughter. “Yeah, I guess I am. Eddie is another one who’s dangerous. That’s why one of each is on a separate team for your detail. Each of the scary guards,” he was still laughing at the unflattering description, “is paired with an extrovert whose strengths and social skills compliment them.” I pulled a sweater out of my dresser—the secret to surviving northwest winters was layering. Bas helped guide my sore arms into each sleeve, while continuing his narrative about my guards. “Jazz, Fritz, and Henry, are more likely to stop someone from getting too close to you. At the police station altercation, you’ll remember Frost stayed with you, and Jazz was in the middle of the action. These guys are your first line of defense; they will talk the threat down, deflect their attention, or physically engage the threat. If they aren’t successful then the second man, in this case, Frost, would have taken more… decisive action.”

“And by ‘decisive’ you mean what, exactly?”

Bas reflected on what he’d say, before finally settling on, “Each of the men in your detail would willingly put their life on the line for you, Babe. But whereas each would die for you, Frost, Eddie, and Dex, would kill for you. No regrets. No hesitation. They aren’t killers, per se, well… we have serious doubts about Dexter sometimes, but they are seasoned combat vets who have proven themselves to be ruthlessly efficient when guarding a client. If an attacker got by Jazz, Frost would be forced to disable them.”

I considered his words for a moment, deciding if Bas or David’s life were on the line, these men would be the ones I’d pick to protect them. What did it say about me and my instincts? My two favorite guards were also the most lethal. “You’re like Frost too, aren’t you? That’s why no one offered to help you when we had intruders on the property a few weeks ago. You were ‘ruthlessly efficient’ when you took out five men in the woods.”

“I may have gained a reputation,” he replied modestly.

With an unladylike snort, I said sardonically, “Yes, I’m sure you have.”

I’d placed my phone on the charger pad overnight, so I made sure to snatch it up and slip it into my back pocket. When Russ realized my phone had been left on my charger the morning I was taken, he’d had one of the Mustangs place a wireless charging pad on my nightstand. No more cords and fumbling with port connections, my cell phone charged automatically when I laid it on the pad each night. From habit, I reached out, tapping the audible clock, “Monday, January 14, 9:36a.m.”

“Crap! I’m late. Jim’s probably pacing at the back door.” I hurried for the stairs.

At my heels, Bas corrected, “Russ is the pacer, Babe. Jim is most likely at the table sipping coffee. The man is patience personified. He knows we had a team meeting, so he’ll expect a delay.”

“You know how I hate to make people wait on me, Bastian. It’s rude.”

“It’s about time, Beautiful. We thought you were upstairs kissing again,”
Red greeted, as my foot hit the main floor level.
“Lights on?”

“Yes please, Red. I was getting a sweater; it’s cold outside and I don’t have a beautiful coat to keep me warm like you do.” No, it wasn’t nervous rambling. Ignoring the kissing remark, I scratched the broad, furry head tilted up to me. Mmm, the bruising did look bad today. No wonder Marcia stared at my face this morning.

Red turned toward Jim, who was indeed, at the dining table with an eReader and a cup of coffee. Bastian placed a soft kiss on my cheek, muttering a quick “See you later,” as he strode through the kitchen to the pantry.

Jim glanced up at me, “Ready?”

“My coat and gloves are at the back door. I’ll grab a travel mug and we can head out,” I smiled.

Jim lifted his ceramic cup. “Could I talk you into preparing a second one for me also? Black, no sugar.”

Pulling a second mug from the cabinet, I began filling them. “Do you walk daily, Jim?”

The older man chuckled, “Is this your discrete way of finding out if we should take a beginner, versus advanced, hiking trail?”

I felt my lips twist up in a rueful grin, “Yes, I suppose it was. So, what will it be, the bunny slope or do we go vertical?”

Jim’s chuckle added a rich, mellow quality to his teasing reply, “In deference to your injuries, and a host of my achy joints, let’s start with the easy trails around the house. I noticed the dogs and security teams have cut quite a few trails in the snow for us. I enjoy walking, but most of my treks consist of twenty-minutes on the beach.”

“Fair enough.” After a few failed attempts to find the correct tops for the travel mugs, I finally capped the coffees, making a mental note to ask Ken to take the hodgepodge of cups downstairs, and purchase a half-dozen new mugs, with interchangeable lids, for the kitchen.

The soft scrape of chair legs told me Jim was standing and resettling his chair against the table. Through Red, I watched as he brushed by me to rinse his mug and place it in the dishwasher. After accepting the cup I extended in his direction, he tucked his hand into the crook of my elbow. “Shall we suit up and take a walk, Ms. March?”

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor Pettifer.”

Jim’s coat was hanging next to mine at the sliding door, probably in anticipation of our walk, as most guests used the coat hooks or closet in the entrance foyer. I made sure the doctor had a scarf, hat, and gloves, uncertain if he’d secured those items before leaving San Diego.

“No problem, Teresa, Ken showed me the stash of winter accessories you keep in the entryway.”

Bless Ken. He’d purchased a large chest to place in the foyer and filled it with scarves, hats, and gloves to have on hand for the Mustangs when it became woefully apparent the men were unprepared for snow. Being OCD (my diagnosis, not the doc’s), Ken bagged each set into quart-size baggies, so people wouldn’t need to dig through the trunk to mix and match. Gotta love his organization skills.