Hot for His Hostage (27 page)

And it sure as fuck didn’t let him down now.

God only knew what Tait’s arrival would’ve done to his gut otherwise.

Didn’t stop him from giving in to the fury it unleashed on his senses, anyway. Without
a single regretful thought, he lunged across the room. With every step, the wrath
kindled higher. Thicker. Hotter.

“Fancy meeting you here, asshole.”

Hurling T’s sneer back at him felt every damn bit as good as he thought it would—right
before he took the shitwad down in a clean tackle. T’s answering roar was just the
incentive he needed to drive his knee up into his brother’s ribs, making the guy roll
to his back.
Perfect
. He straddled T and pulled back his arm, already savoring how good it was going to
feel to ram his fist into the guy’s jaw.

Somebody grabbed him by the elbow. The grip wasn’t very viable, though. It’d be easy
to shake them off—

Until the scream pierced his ear. Her scream.

“Are you
loco
?
Madre de Dios
, you’re going to break open everything and bleed again!”

He resisted her hold. “Zoe.” Then glared down at his brother, who fired back the eyes
and snarl of a pissed-off tiger. “Back off. Now.”

“Not a chance,
pendejo
.” Her spite would’ve been kind of cute under other circumstances. But her tears?
Fuck
. They were his downfall, and the smart little thing probably knew it. “Shay.” Her
voice rippled with a sob. “Please.
Please
.”

“Dammit.” If Ghid
had
been trained on Sesame Street, his growl was pure Oscar the Grouch, complete with
the steel lid for emphasis. “She’s right. Stop acting like a couple of five year-olds.”

Shay let go of the hold he had on the classic image of Clint Eastwood plastered on
Tait’s T-shirt. Dirty Harry really was lucky tonight. “Zoe, let me introduce the goat
shit known as my brother. And ass munch, while you’re down here, grovel a little at
the feet of the woman who saved you tonight. If not for her, your face would be removed
from your skull about now.”

Tait scrambled to his feet and jutted a hand at Zoe. “Tait Bommer.”

“Zoe Chestain. Really good to meet you.”

“Likewise, Z—” T stuttered to a stop. “Wait.
Chestain
?”

“Yes, Ava’s my sister. And no, Shay and I didn’t have a clue until well after we met
each other.”

“Which was…”

“About five days ago.”

“What?”

“Write the movie script later, Mel Brooks.” The bark belonged to Ghid. “You’re here
for a purpose, so focus.”

“That’s right.” Tait rolled his shoulders and winced a little, bringing a little satisfaction.
He’d have some new bruises tomorrow. Good. “A
purpose
—” he hurled his growl to Ghid now—“that isn’t as clear to me now as it was when you
called using details about my mother as bait, Mr. Preston.” His face gave in to obvious
surprise when looking at Shay again. “What the hell happened to
you
?”

Shay spewed a bitter laugh. “Like you don’t know?”

He almost regretted the vicious tone. Tait’s face fell into authentic shock. “No.”
His voice faltered too. “I really don’t, Shay. Holy crap. Do you really think—”

“Come on.” Colton motioned toward the suite’s living room area. “You two need to sit
down and chill.”

“Fuck me.” Tait’s face expanded with more surprise. “Dan Colton.
You’re
in on this gaggle, too?”

Dan folded his arms. “Cool the fuse, T-Bomb. Preston hasn’t been able to get in a
word yet.”

“Because somebody let my brother off his leash?” He prowled toward Ghid with a new
grimace. “This is fucked up. I should just be calling and reporting your ass right
now.”

Though Ghid looked like T had simply told him it would rain tomorrow, Shay stomped
forward again. “Christ, T. Back off on the pompous ass throttle and give the guy a
minute of a break.”

“Like you gave me a break when I walked in?”

“Like you gave me a break after you stomped on me, cuffed me, and turned me over to
those monsters at A-fifty-one?”

“Monsters? Dammit, what the
fuck
are you talking about?”

Shay grabbed the back of the couch to avoid digging his hands into Clint Eastwood
again. “You really going to look me in the face and tell me you don’t know?”

“I was doing my job!”

“So was I!”

“You’re a fucking traitor, Shay. And now you’re a fugitive on top of it. Shit! My
own goddamn brother!” His bunched like he was about to hurl. “You know what? I have
every damn right to pull the asshole card right now.”

Shay openly borrowed from Zoe for his reaction. Sometimes silly girl behavior deserved
silly girl eye rolls. “You know what? Forget the goat shit thing. You’re just a goat,
T, plain and simple You’ll swallow anything anyone feeds you.”

Tait got in a sarcastic laugh of his own. “Doesn’t change the truth of the matter.
Every soldier and special agent in a fifty mile radius is looking for your ass.” He
visibly stiffened when Zoe gasped out something desperate in Spanish. “Sorry, Zoe,
but they are.”

That sliver of kindness toward Zoe made Shay actually contemplate his brother for
a long moment, instead of getting creative with the goat jargon again. “My ass, huh?”
When he tacked on a long exhalation, he hated the quaver in it. “Figures. It’s the
only part of me they haven’t fileted yet.”

Finally,
finally
, Tait looked at him, too—with eyes that saw him once more through a filter other
than Cameron Stock. “Christ, Shay. What’s going on here? What the fuck are you doing?
What are you hiding?”

Ghid stepped over and positioned himself in the center of the seating area, adopting
a full drill instructor stance. “Come and sit down, you two.”

Shay looked his brother in the eye. “You should probably listen to him.”

“It was meant for you, too, kid.”

“Thanks, Ghid. But I feel fine now.”

“
Sit. Down
.”

Tait snickered during his grudging obedience. “You’re a tetchy fucker, you know that?”

“Tetchy.” Ghid gave another weather report reaction. “That’s a new one. Fits, though.”

“Mom never used it on you?” Shay asked.

Tait sobered the laughter. “Mom?
Whose
mom? What the…fuck?”

Shay used his brother’s astonishment as a chance to regroup his own composure. Missions
and their expectations…the dichotomy was a bigger dildo up his ass than before. This
sure as hell wasn’t the way he imagined the end game of this op fleshing out. Mom
was in hiding. T still gawked at him like a criminal. And now, a guy who’d nicknamed
himself after a dragon looked like he had some not-so-comfortable fire to barf on
both of them.

Forget the Badlands mountains comparison. Ghid had turned into Mount Rainier instead,
his icy outer layers concealing a volcano lent an ominous green tint by his intense
eyes.

Hell.

Shay took another long swig of beer. Despite how he’d pay to see the sight, Ghid was
obviously not preparing himself to sing the Sesame Street theme song. He braced himself
for the possibility it would be no less easy to hear.

Though Zoe’s pulse hadn’t returned to normal and the air still crackled with unsatisfied
male aggression, she was finally able to take a breath. She needed to think about
sitting down, too. She didn’t want to. Every muscle in her body longed to go to Shay,
if only to hold his hand through a crappy patch between him and Tait, but these guys
needed this moment just for each other—especially when it appeared Ghid was about
to lay down some heavy
caca
.

She scooted onto a stool at the bar where Colton had camped out. Oz had disappeared
along with the food and her friends, leading to the conclusion that Colton felt it
safer they didn’t hear the upcoming conversation. Zoe smiled in appreciation to the
agent for that.

Her expression quickly changed to a wince of commiseration with Shay. He’d given up
six months of his life, perhaps literally, for this moment. Needless to say, the reality
wasn’t matching the fantasy. She hurt for him while continuing to rein back supreme
frustration with Tait.
Deep breaths
. Maybe Ghid’s news would help heal their rift a little. She could only watch…and
pray.

After another long look at Shay, Ghid pierced his stare into Tait. “Tell me if I’ve
pieced this together right. You were part of the SHRC team that busted up Stock’s
party at A-fifty-one beginning of the week?”

“Affirmative,” Tait said.

“And it sounds like you gunned for that duty because you were hell-bent for leather
on locating your brother…because you had some notion he’d gone rogue with Cameron
Stock?”

Tait pushed a fist into the couch’s arm. “I work with hard intel and verified facts,
Mr. Preston, not ‘notions.’ I’m not the fucking bad guy here.”

Shay’s jaw went rigid, too. Even from across the room, Zoe could see the strong tic
that vibrated in it, too. It was a sin, plain and simple, to remember how she’d seen
that tic at work in completely different circumstances…and to feel her pussy throb
from the thought of being with him that way again. She atoned for the wickedness by
sending up another prayer for understanding between the brothers.  

The Creator was a gracious listener tonight.
Gracias. Gracias
.

“T,” he murmured, “you’ve been textbook perfect on everything, man. Nobody’s calling
you out.” He reached to clap Tait’s shoulder. “I’m even proud of you for your conviction—despite
how that meant throwing me to the wolves.”

Tait glanced as if Shay’s hand was an alien laser ray. “Am I supposed to say thanks?
Because that didn’t do jack shit for clearing me from these weeds of what-the-fuck.”

Ghid dipped a shrewd nod. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning, kid.”

Shay’s inhalation was long and heavy. “‘Beginning’ is a relative term here.”

“Well aware of that.” Ghid’s expression barely changed though his wry inflection couldn’t
be missed. “Let me see if I’m right on the episode re-cap. You finally went through
your dad’s old things, and they pointed toward your mother’s affiliation with Stock.
You followed up on the lead, bringing in your CIA friend here for the fun, knowing
he was already hot on Stock’s trail. That was when you realized that the only way
to figure out the guy’s game
and
find your mom was going at it from the inside out.”

Both Shay’s brows arched. “That’s damn impressive.”

“And right on the money,” Ghid returned.

“And right on the money.”

Like everyone else in the room, Zoe turned her attention to Tait. The shock on his
face had deepened with every word exchanged between Ghid and his brother. Now, with
forehead fully furrowed and eyes hardened like gold spears, he attempted to work his
mouth around words. “You were with Stock and his gang…because you were
undercover
?”

Zoe whooshed out a breath of relief. She was stunned when Shay didn’t do the same,
until she realized the source of the pain still carved across his face. His brother
finally had the truth, but had trouble biting into the elephant of it.

“Yeah, T.” His voice was soft, almost apologetic.

“Why?”

“That’s the part of the story best told from the beginning.” Shay straightened. “About
six months ago, I approached Dan about transferring me from the Seventh SFG to the
CIA special detail. We kept it far under the radar. My cover story—”

“I know your cover story,” Tait grated. “I’ve memorized every goddamn word of it.”
He leaned forward and let his head fall between his shoulders. “And drove myself crazy
trying to convince myself it wasn’t the truth, even when all the evidence—and all
the suits clear to DC—told me otherwise.”

Tears pricked the back of Zoe’s eyes as she watched Shay close his. A strange beauty
took over his face, reminding her of the saints she and Ava had studied in Sunday
school, newly delivered from earthly torture on their way to celestial deliverance.
“Well, your gut was right,” he murmured.

Tait’s hands balled into fists. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? You
had the damn chance, on the beach that night in Kaua'i—”

“I couldn’t, T. And you know the hundreds of reasons why.”

“I’m your goddamn
brother
.”

“And you think if Stock or any of his guys came up the sand and found us cavorting
like Frank and Joe Hardy, I wouldn’t have been made in two seconds? After that fun
plot turn, they’d carve my balls out with dull fishing knives then feed them to you
and Kell while Lani watched.” His posture coiled tighter with every word but he released
the tension for a quick smile. “Congratulations, by the way. Lani’s a damn good woman.
I at least had the time to see how happy she makes you.”

“Thanks. You’re still a fucker.”

“Right. The fucker who found our mother.”

“Another fact that parks my ass in the weeds again.” Tait twisted, staring like Shay
had revealed he’d applied for a mission on the moon. “So you wanted to search for
the woman who left us…why?”

Shay’s answering smile flowed with unmistakable joy. “Because she didn’t leave us.”

“Pardon the crap out of me?”

“You remember when I came out to LA during the week after your adventure there? And
how I asked all those questions when you mentioned Stock?”

Tait threw his wincing gaze toward the window. “I don’t remember a lot from those
days, dude.”

Zoe smiled with pride as Shay rubbed a reassuring hand to his big brother’s back.
“That’s all right. I remember for both of us.”

Tait nodded. “I know you do. And thanks.”

One long moment extended into the next. To an outside viewer, the room seemed to fall
into stillness. Zoe knew better. A glance at Dan told her he did, too. Together, they
watched a pair of brothers begin to cut back a forest of misunderstanding and anger,
rediscovering each other on a path of healing.

On a quiet murmur, Shay went on. “After leaving LA, I went back to Florida by way
of the storage unit we put Dad’s things in. By that time, Stock’s name was burned
in my brain. I didn’t have to look long to find it in a big stack of correspondence
to Mom.”

That made Tait surge off the couch. As he paced between the couch and window, his
eyes conveyed the violence of mental links slammed together. “What kind of correspondence?”

“Well, they weren’t love letters. But it wasn’t hate mail, either. It seemed like
some kind of amicable business deal.”

“So what the hell does that mean?” Tait fired. “Mom left Dad…for Cameron Stock?”

Shay took another deep breath. “Hopped on that same ox cart, too. At first.”

“Until he came to me.” Colton offered the declaration as he slid off his barstool.
“Obviously, Shay’s inquiry roped me by both horns out of the gate,” he continued while
approaching them. “By that point, your brother was a little obsessive about the subject.”

Zoe was glad Tait let out a laugh, making her giggle less conspicuous. “Him?” Tait
drawled. “Obsessive? Nah.”

Shay rolled his eyes before persisting, “Something really didn’t feel right about
the story to that point. We were missing chunks of the picture. When Colton’s search
results proved that out, I seesawed between elation and nausea.”

Tait cocked his head and narrowed his gaze. “Nausea?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Do the math. If we learned that Mom didn’t necessarily go to Stock on a willing basis…”

“Shit.”

“Bingo.”

Tait swung his scrutiny to Colton. “You unlocked intel to back this up? That she was
under duress? Even taken?”

Colton’s response wasn’t what Zoe expected. His Texas swagger had turned into a weird
falter. While kicking a cowboy boot at the carpet, he offered, “Wish it were as cut
and dry as that, T. Would’ve made things a lot easier to approach, especially from
your brother’s point of view. Simple human abduction charges? We could’ve just found
her, rustled up a team, and extracted her.”

Tait sagged against the armoire, indicating he understood of Shay’s nausea tag now.
“And it wasn’t that easy…why?”

“The facts we had were
pointers
to abduction, not hard evidence. Your mom didn’t leave the house kicking and screaming.
She snuck out on her own, in the middle of the night. The trail fell cold for about
six months after that, especially because your Dad never filed anything formal about
it.”

“What happened after six months?”

“She resurfaced to apply for a legal ID in Reno using false docs to indicate her name
was Melanie Smythe. That name also shows up on tax records for Cameron’s old film
development company out of Hollywood, as well as Benstock, the corporation he formed
with Gunter Benson.”

“Yeah,” Tait cut in. “I know all about Benstock, remember?”

When he slouched over and literally looked green, Ghid stepped to him. “You all right?”

“Hmmm.” Tait braced his hands on his thighs. “That’s a damn good question. Just had
my brother inform me that the mom who deserted us didn’t really mean to do it, but
paid for her Louboutins with paychecks from the shell corporation owned by the terrorist
who killed someone I deeply loved. So
am
I all right? Why don’t
you
answer that question?”

Ghid stiffened—to the point of looking like his spine was fused together by molten
fury. “Damn good idea,” he uttered, “since you’re pretty much wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” Ghid returned. “But you’re still wrong.”

Colton, centered again on both feet, angled hands into his back pockets. “Paychecks
were cut to Melanie Smythe from both those companies,” he supplied, “but they never
showed up in any bank accounts for the woman.”

Tait scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Not sure I can be any plainer. We crosschecked the issue every damn way we could.
Used your mom’s real name, middle names, and variations of each. Played with both
social security numbers. All the paperwork on the front and back end was legal; there
were just no transactions in the middle.” He pointedly cleared his throat. “No wild
shoe-buying sprees.”

“Back end?” Tait queried. “What back end?”

“Taxes were filed every year on the money,” Colton explained. “Everything was legal;
no red flags.”

“Filed by who? Were you able to trace something there?”

“There’s a tax preparer’s name on the documents but the physical address is a vacant
lot out in Henderson.” Colton grimaced as if he knew how lame the action looked. “It’s
been like looking for a ghost before the funeral.”

Ghid made a clicking sound with his teeth, jerking the agent’s attention back up.
“Maybe this is where I step in again.” When Dan didn’t argue—Zoe doubted Attila the
Hun himself would cross the man—Ghid nodded to the couch, directing the brothers to
sit once more. As soon as they did, he reestablished his wide stance minus the hands
locked behind his back. It occurred to Zoe that he might be trying to appear more
relaxed. Thank the saints she was getting proficient at holding back giggles.

Shay, noticing the guy’s massive fail at trying to be more roadster and less tanker,
wasn’t so amused. “Sure
you
don’t need a drink, dude?”

Ghid gave two gruff jerks of his head. “I’m an ugly fucker but even uglier when I
drink. Just get me some more water, could you?” By the time he finished, Zoe was halfway
across the room with the ice water pitcher from the table. After he nodded in thanks,
he gulped deeply then exhaled with equal purpose. “What I’m about to say is the truth.
It won’t feel like it when I’m done, but you need to promise me you’ll stay open.”

Tait lifted a wry brow. “I think I’ve had the crash course in ‘staying open’ today.”

Shay squared his shoulders and positioned his hands atop his knees, a sitting version
of a full attention stance. Zoe studied him with a twinge of concern. He looked like
a guy about to receive his dishonorable discharge papers. Given everything he’d been
put through in the last week, she didn’t blame him. And yearned to be next to him
even more.

Ghid gave them both another extended look before going on. “What you said, Shay? About
missing pieces of the big pie? Good call. Thing is, you’re still missing a few chunks
of the thing. I’ve got them but they taste a bit bizarre.”