Storm Warning (Security Specialists International Book 4) (9 page)

Possessive much?

Fuck yeah. The Walshes had seen her first.

“Well, hello there. You must be DJ.” Dan’s voice was low and way-out-of-line sexy under the circumstances. “We need to talk.”

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff. Sorta busy here.” DJ barely looked at Dan as she stepped back to the ground. She shook his hand—and pulled it away quickly. “Your questions will have to wait. It’s been almost three-quarters of an hour since we began the take down of the mercs. We have an op to finish.”

Thank fuck, she treated Dan in a distant, but professional manner.

That still didn’t mean Dan wouldn’t attempt to make a move on her. Dan and Price hit on all the single females who visited or lived in the area.

Vanko cut off whatever Dan would’ve said next. “I’ll stay here and help Dan make sure these men get medical care and then are locked down in the hospital and placed under guard.”

“That’ll work,” Ren said. “Dan, could you handle getting the troopers to block off the access road to Fire Tower 9? We need to investigate a report of mercenaries headquartered at the Morrissey rentals.”

“More mercenaries?” When Ren nodded, Dan grimaced. “I’d really like a month or two to go by without some asshats coming into my county and targeting your wife.”

Then the man sighed. “We’ll handle it. Since you all are still special deputies, let’s try to arrest them, okay? And make some time to come into the station as soon as possible and make a full report about this cluster.”

“Will do,” Ren said.

After one more lingering and, to Tweeter’s eye, lascivious glance at DJ who sat in the helicopter doing a pre-flight check, Dan jogged toward the state troopers and his own men who’d just pulled in with two paramedic units on their bumpers.

“I forgot all about my momma!” DJ stood at the open cockpit door, shooting an anxious glance at the restaurant. “She doesn’t drive. My Hummer—”

Elana walked to the chopper and touched DJ’s leg, halting her words. “Don’t worry. One of us will drive your mom to Sanctuary in your vehicle. Give me your keys.”

“Thanks, Elana.” DJ handed her the keys. She looked at Ren and said, “I’m ready to take off as soon as y’all get on board.”

“Fire her up,” Ren said as he turned to listen to something Keely had to say.

As DJ strapped in and set the rotors to turning, Tweeter strapped himself in. “There are some computer upgrades, but on the whole this Hawk should be similar to the ones you flew in the Army.”

“You’ll clue me in on those differences before I need them, right?” He nodded. DJ then shot him a look from under her lashes as she checked the gauges and hummed with satisfaction. “Looking good here. Um, thanks again for including me.”

“Hey, no problem.” Tweeter handled her thanks casually, one peer to another. She needed to feel comfortable working alongside him. He planned on partnering her a lot during her new employee training period—part of his slow-and-steady approach to gaining her trust. “Be prepared to fly and report at the same time. Ren will want to hear everything that happened today before Dan hears it.”

“Ren’s my boss.” DJ looked over at him as she adjusted the headset. “Of course, he has the right to hear what went down from me first. I recall every word the mercs said. I’ll type it up as soon as we get to Sanctuary.”

Tweeter grinned. “Ren’s going to love you. Some of the operatives hate preparing written reports after giving them verbally.”

DJ laughed. “Hey, bitching is okay as long as they do the job.”

After Ren, Trey, Price, and two state troopers piled into the cabin of the chopper and shut the door, DJ smoothly took the Hawk up.

Tweeter shot a questioning look over his shoulder at Ren. “Troopers?” he mouthed, then switched to a private channel on the chopper’s com system and reached over to change DJ’s to the same channel so she could listen in as well. She didn’t jerk away when he touched her headset, just turned and arched one golden-brown brow at him before concentrating on the white world outside of the Black Hawk.

He considered that a small victory.

“Troopers?” he asked Ren again, this time out loud.

“Dan wanted someone from law enforcement along as ‘witnesses’. Since we could be facing another gun battle, he wanted their objective statements in case he needed to get the state prosecutor off his back. The political asshats in Boise still haven’t gotten over the death toll from that one time two different sets of mercenaries came after Keely.”

“Understandable,” Tweeter said.

“Is SSI in trouble because me and the gals shot the bastards?” DJ asked as she handled the chopper as if it were a calm, sunny day with low winds. In fact, the visibility was down to less than a quarter mile. The bitch winds were swirling. And DJ still managed to push the air speed. Her face reflected a fierce concentration, but her posture, her hands, were relaxed.

God, the way she handled the Hawk was sexy.

When she looked over after no response from him, he could see only concern about her earlier actions against the mercs. There was absolutely no fear on her face about the flying conditions or what might lie ahead at the rental cabins. “Did I get SSI in trouble?”she asked again.

“No.” Tweeter shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Ren leaned in between them. “You did the right thing. You heard shit about to go down. The men were armed. You called the law and realized they were too far away to make a difference in a fucked up situation. You took action to protect my wife, my child, and other innocents. You did everything right. If something similar happens again—and I hope the fuck it doesn’t—I want you to follow through on your gut and situational awareness again.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Dev and Andy told me you’d be coming on board fully operational. They were right. Welcome to SSI.”

DJ sighed. Her aquamarine eyes glistened like sunny, sparkling Caribbean waters. Yeah, he’d read her correctly—she needed to be needed, a part of a team.

“I promise, you won’t regret hiring me, Ren.” The tone in her voice was that of a solemn oath.

“I know I won’t,” Ren replied. “You’ve already proven your worth in my eyes.”

“Thanks.” DJ’s gaze sharpened and her expression smoothed out as she checked the nav map. “ETA at target is less than two minutes. How do you want to handle this?” She teethed her lower lip.

Nerves? Now? Worried about impressing the boss, maybe?

“How do
you
think we should handle it,” Tweeter prompted, gaining him a quick, grateful look from her before she turned her attention to what lay ahead.

“There’s a parking area about half a klick from the cabins. I can land there … or hover and drop y’all and then fly protection over the area until you tell me to land.”

Ren grunted. “Drop us in the parking lot and fly protection. If the fuckers try to escape, you can stay on top of them. I don’t want these fuckballs to get away. Someone is gonna pay for targeting my wife and son.” He turned to Tweeter. “Stay with DJ and give us some cover from the air.”

Tweeter nodded and caught the uncertain look DJ cast his way before focusing her attention to the radar and constantly changing conditions. What? She didn’t realize he was a full member of the team? She’d learn it soon enough once her training began.

“DJ, will you have any problem handling the chopper in these weather conditions with the cabin door open?” Ren asked.

DJ stiffened and her face tightened at Ren’s words. “Sir…”

“It’s Ren, DJ. We’re not military.”

“Ren … if I could handle the conditions in Afghanistan—” she snorted. Her tone had been clipped and icy. Her snort filled with disdain.

Yeah, she was pissed at someone questioning her ability. Tweeter frowned at Ren who shook his head slightly. Fuck it, Ren was testing her. Tweeter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from leaping to defend her. She wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of the boss.

“—then this is a piece of cake.” She sighed. “Sorry. That was rude. Let me rephrase. If I couldn’t do it, Ren, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Your first response was fine.” Ren winked at Tweeter. “Never be afraid to tell me things straight out. If you go too far, I’ll let you know. I’m not a tyrant.”

“Since when?” muttered Trey over the private channel.

“I heard that, little brother,” Ren said.

DJ’s lips twisted into a small grin which she shared with Tweeter. He smiled back. She was already starting to relax around him. Thank God for the bonding power of the Black Hawk.

“We’re here, Ren.” DJ took the chopper in over the parking lot,

The howling winds blew snow from every direction. Without the radar, it would’ve been difficult to tell up from down. But DJ didn’t seem to notice as she smoothly made adjustments as she took the chopper into a low hover. The strain in holding the position was only obvious in her hands as she gripped the cyclic stick.

Tweeter kept a close eye on her, his hand lightly resting on the co-pilot’s stick, just in case she needed some extra muscle. She didn’t read as a hot dog to him, just confident, which meant she knew her limits. If she needed help, she’d ask.

He also kept an ear on what Ren and the others were doing over the now-shared channel.

“DJ, take her up as soon as you drop us,” Ren ordered. “If we need you, we’ll call.”

“Roger that.” DJ held the Hawk steady. “Watch your step, gentlemen. Three to four feet to the ground.”

The wind jostled the helicopter and DJ made adjustments accordingly to keep the helicopter steady as the men jumped out.

“We’re away,” said Ren.

“Roger that. Stay safe.” DJ took the chopper to a safe elevation and began a figure-eight flight pattern over the more rugged area where the cabins were located. Morrissey had nestled the cabins among the tree-covered slopes for the illusion of privacy. Only the parking lot and the main lodge were in a level, cleared area.

“Can you see anything moving down there, Ace?” She inhaled sharply.

He turned to her, concerned she was in trouble, and then noticed her gaze was glued on the nav map. Ahh, she’d discovered one of his additions to the comp’s programming.

“What in the hell are those little yellow blips?” she asked.

“That’s part of the software upgrades I told you about. All SSI operatives wear sub-dermal locator chips. It’s part of our three-dimensional security system bubble over Sanctuary.”

Tweeter pointed to the numbers below the yellow dots moving on the screen. “That one’s Ren. Trey. Price. Those two,” he tapped at them in turn, “are temporary ones pinned on the troopers’ coats.”

“Cool.” Her voice held real interest. “So, can you also track SSI operatives during missions?”

“Yeah.”

“With what?” She never wavered in her flight pattern, adjusting for weather conditions as if it were ingrained in her DNA. He’d let Ren know she multi-tasked well.

“Special hand-held computers I designed which also serve as encrypted satellite phones.” Damn, he liked the admiration in her eyes when she looked at him. “Wait until you see the hologram map of Sanctuary.”

“A hologram? That’s fairly advanced technology.” She sounded impressed.

“Yeah, Keely and I are refining and testing it for military use. We can track anything with a heat signature entering our property. Human bogies show up as red blips since they don’t have the locator chips under their skin or a guest badge. Vehicles and large projectiles show up as blue blips. Keely and I are working on a program to identify inanimate objects that don’t put off heat, but it requires—”

DJ cut him off. “Red blips? Something like those?” She pointed.

“Yeah. Exactly like them.” Tweeter unbuckled from his seat. “Ren, five bogies outside of the sixth cabin back on the west side. Moving to cover y’all from the air.”

“Roger that,” Ren replied.

Tweeter picked up his assault rifle and moved to the cabin door. He hooked a cable onto his flight harness and opened the door and sat so he could lean out. The change in air pressure caused the chopper to wobble, but DJ adjusted and had it steady within seconds.

“I’m in position,” Tweeter said. “Snow’s let up some. I can see them. Yeah, they’re definitely bugging out.”

“Roger that,” Ren replied. “If they start shooting at the chopper—”

“I’ll take evasive action, boss,” DJ interjected. “I’m not letting anything happen to this bird. Never lost a chopper, and I don’t plan to start now with some jumped-up hired killers.”

Tweeter laughed. “She told you, buddy. Take care of your asses. DJ and I have you covered from up top.”

“Roger that,” DJ responded. “Changing flight pattern. Hold onto your stomach, Ace. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

“Yee-haw,” Tweeter shouted as DJ placed the Hawk into a wide turn.

Later that night, The Lodge, Sanctuary

Tweeter sat back in his chair at the dining table, his gaze fixed on DJ who sat across from him and next to her mother. A slight smile twisted his lips at her blush of embarrassment as Price praised her skills. Of course, if Price didn’t stop looking at DJ as if she were his favorite dessert, friend or not, he’d have to kill the son of a bitch.

“Scotty, I kid you not,” Price said. “DJ piloted that chopper and herded those asshats—pardon my language, Nancy—as if they were sheep and she and that chopper were a collie.”

Nancy Poe glanced at her daughter with a mixture of pride and shock on her face. Then she turned to Price. “I knew my baby girl—”

“Momma, please—” DJ muttered.

“You are my baby girl and nothing will change that.” DJ’s mother caressed her daughter’s cheek before turning back to Price who sat on Nancy’s other side. “As I was saying, I knew she flew helicopters and took important people around and saved soldiers like Andy from enemy territory, but I never realized she could help catch bad guys with one.”

Price grinned. “Ma’am, your daughter along with Keely and Callie took down—”

“Shut it, Price.” Tweeter growled the words and cut the man off before he told Nancy how DJ had shot the mercs at the gas station.

The look DJ gave him was so filled with gratitude he swore he could burst into flames from the glow in her aquamarine gaze.

“But … but—” Price sputtered.

“Why don’t we state that DJ has already proven what an important member of the team she’ll be,” Keely suggested, “and leave it at that. Okay?”

“Momma…” DJ kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll explain later. Price, thank you for the compliments and making me feel appreciated. But she doesn’t need to know what I do … exactly.”

“But I want to know,” Nancy said.

“Some things I won’t be able to tell you, because they’re confidential.” DJ’s calm, firm tone brooked no arguments. “And other things I just plain don’t want you to know. I’m a former soldier. Trust me, you don’t really want to know.”

Nancy frowned, then she shook her head and sighed. “Okay, but if you’re going into danger, I do need to know. That way, I can have a heart-to-heart with God and let him know to keep an eye on you and your team.”

“Prayers are always appreciated,” Ren said. “We also want you to feel part of the SSI family, Nancy. So, if you have questions or concerns, you can always come to me or Keely. We’ll tell you what we can, but as DJ said, some things will be on a need-to-know basis.”

“Thank you, Ren. I already feel very welcome here.” Nancy looked over her shoulder at Scotty who’d gone to the kitchen to plate dessert. Throughout the meal, the older man’s appreciative gaze had often found DJ’s attractive mother. “Scotty has made me feel right at home. He even welcomed me into his kitchen and told me I could bake and cook anytime I had a hankering.”

“Nancy,” Ren began gently. “You don’t need to—”

“Ren, please … I want to help.” Nancy gestured with a sweep of her arm. “You’ve provided this wonderful home for my daughter and me. Told me I don’t have to lift a finger to help, but I want to. I can cook and help Scotty take care of all y’all. Please I want to do this. I
need
to do this.”

DJ was definitely her mother’s daughter—both women liked to be needed.

“Fine,” Ren said. “But please don’t feel that you have to. We’re glad to have you and DJ—and room-and-board are part of the salary package for all operatives and their families.”

“No one asked me, but I’ll tell you I’m glad to have Nancy in my kitchen.” Scotty began serving plates of pecan pie with whipped topping. “She baked this pie. She’s going to teach me some of her Southern specialties, beginning tomorrow morning with biscuits and red eye gravy on the breakfast buffet.”

“Oh, yum, my favorite.” DJ closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Can’t wait for breakfast.”

“Her biscuits and red eye gravy are that good?” Tweeter asked as he swept his gaze between DJ and her mother. They looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

Keely giggled and whispered something to Ren who narrowed his gaze and looked between DJ and Tweeter. Yeah, his sister knew him too well. She and her hubby would both be confronting him. Ren because of Tweeter’s allowing DJ to fly the Black Hawk on the mission to round up the rest of the mercs, and Keely, for his personal attention in getting DJ and her mother settled since they’d arrived at Sanctuary.

Keely’s fond expression told him she approved. Ren, not so much. Not that his brother-in-law would be able to change his mind. Tweeter was Walsh-stubborn—and Ren, more than anybody, knew just how stubborn that was. The man also understood intense attraction at first sight, because it had happened between him and Keely.

“Yeah, Ace—” DJ grinned at him across the table, dragging him back to the present. “The best. I really missed her cooking while in the Army.”

“Not much chance for red eye gravy in Afghanistan, huh?” Tweeter replied.

DJ threw back her head and laughed. “Um, that would be correct. Not sure I’d call anything we had in Afghanistan as home cooking.”

Her laugh went straight to his heart. He’d enjoy hearing that laugh every damn day for the rest of his life.

He turned his attention toward Nancy, who smiled at her daughter, sharing in the happiness. “Nancy, ma’am—”

“Yes, Stuart?” Nancy turned her smiling face toward him. Like her daughter, she’d refused to call him Tweeter.

“What time do I need to be downstairs to be first in line for your cooking?” he asked. He hadn’t had a real southern breakfast since his last visit home to North Carolina. Plus, if he were early enough he could snag a seat next to DJ so he could engage her in general conversation. Get to know her better. Let her get to know him outside of the upcoming training and apart from what his parents and brothers had told her about him.

“0700 hours, boy,” Scotty growled. “I couldn’t convince the woman to sleep in.”

“Are you sayin’ I look haggard, Scotty?” Nancy’s voice was almost a purr.

Whoa! What was going on here? Nancy and Scotty had only know each other for less than four hours and they were already … acting flirtatious around one another?

As if you can talk, Walsh. You’ve already claimed DJ as yours.

Tweeter shot a look at DJ. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked between her mother and Scotty. What she saw had her inhale sharply and then look across the table at him. She widened her eyes and hitched a shoulder as if to say “what’s up with that?”

He shrugged and shook his head. Inside he was thrilled that she’d immediately turned to him. The silent gesture demonstrated she valued and trusted his opinion, an important stepping stone on the path toward the relationship he wanted with her.

“You don’t look haggard,” Scotty said, a male’s exasperation coloring his tone of voice. “You’re beautiful. But, dammit, woman, you just rode clear across country. Got tangled with mercs terrorizing Ma’s. And before that, your fuckwad of a husband hurt you. You’re still healing. You need to take a break … rest up. Let me … us take care of you. The kitchen ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Uh, Momma?” A frown creasing her forehead, DJ tugged on Nancy’s arm. “Just what have you been telling Scotty while the rest of us were chasing down bad guys and talking to the Sheriff?”

Nancy fluttered her lashes at Scotty. “Everything. I told him everything as I baked pies and helped prep the vegetables for tomorrow’s vegetable soup. He’s a very nice man and a good listener.” The older woman turned a piercing look on her daughter. “You have a problem with that?”

“No.” DJ’s tone was appeasing as if she were afraid to upset Nancy. “I’m glad you’ve made a new friend. But I agree with Scotty, you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, so resting—”

Nancy covered DJ’s mouth with her hand. “I can rest when I’m dead. I like it here. I wanna live free, do what I want for once in my life. I love to cook. The kitchen is a dream kitchen, and Scotty is nice enough to share it with me. So, tomorrow morning at 0700, whatever time that is—”

“7:00 a. m., ma’am” Tweeter interjected before anyone else could.

Nancy shot him a grateful look. “Thank you, Stuart. At 7:00 a.m, there will be my momma’s special red eye gravy and my West Virginia State Fair winning biscuits on the menu.”

“Okay, Momma, but if I think you’re doing too much, I’ll—”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo, DJ.” Scotty stood behind and between the two women. He gave DJ’s shoulder a squeeze, but his warm gaze was on Nancy. “And if you see something I need to know about her health or welfare, you tell me. I’ll make sure she sees Lacey and does as she’s told.”

Tweeter smiled. He wasn’t the only Sanctuary male captivated by a Poe woman. Good to know. He and Scotty needed to talk later, over a beer or two. Maybe they could share intel on how to win the trust and affections of the ladies in question.

DJ studied Scotty with a narrow-eyed stare. Something she saw in the crusty old Navy man’s face must’ve convinced her he meant her mother no harm, because then she smiled. “Thanks, Scotty. Between the two of us, we’ll ride herd on her.”

Nancy’s inelegant snort had everyone at the table laughing.

****

Later that night, Tweeter’s house

“Hey, Dev.” Tweeter sat in his leather recliner in the den of his home.

“Hey, little brother.” Dev’s voice came across the crystal-clear satellite connection. The transmission was so sharp, Tweeter could hear the sounds of other men in the background … playing poker. “DJ and Nancy get to Sanctuary okay?”

Tweeter took a few short minutes to detail what had gone down and how DJ had already won over the rest of the team, the State troopers, Dan and his deputies, and all the locals at Ma’s and Bud, the gas station clerk. Then he added a shorter description of the Scotty-and-Nancy show at dinner.

“Man, Scotty’s moving fast.” Dev chuckled. “Nancy is far nicer than that flight attendant he was engaged to. And for a woman her age, Nancy is still a looker, even after all the crap her fucker of a husband put her through.”

“Yeah.” Tweeter hesitated and then switched to the issue for which he’d made the call. “Did you or the other brothers declare an interest in DJ while she stayed with Mom and Dad?”

Silence reigned for several seconds, so many seconds, that if Tweeter hadn’t heard the men laughing and cursing at each other in the background he would’ve thought he’d lost the connection.

“No … not exactly. Why?” Dev’s voice was low and harsh with a growl mixed in.

Tweeter stiffened. “What the fuck does not exactly mean?” Had one of his brothers already taken her out on two dates? God, he hoped to hell not.

“It means, little brother,” Dev said. “That she was asked and declined. Now, tell me why you’re asking.”

Relief swept over him like a brush fire through a wheat field, and he relaxed into the chair. “I’m invoking the Walsh no-poaching rule.” That was as straightforward as he could be.

“You’ve already been on two dates with DJ?” Dev asked, demonstrating he got Tweeter’s message, but his tone indicated he didn’t believe it.

“Not yet, but I’ll get there.” Tweeter inhaled and then let it out. “DJ needs to get to know me first. To trust me. So, I’m stealth courting.”

Dev’s shout of laughter was so loud Tweeter had to hold the phone away from his ear. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Because Loren and Paul came on really strong, as in full-court-press strong, while she was at Mom and Dad’s. She shut them the fuck down … in a firm, but nice way.” Dev snickered. “You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when they’d crapped out.”

Tweeter smiled at the image of his hot shot SEAL brothers being shot down by a woman. Women usually fell all over themselves to catch the twins’ attentions.

Dev continued, “Andy and I thought about pursuing her right after she risked her ass in Afghanistan to rescue him, but we realized she kept men at arm’s length. Later, while rescuing Nancy and after we met her douchebag of a father and the fucker who raped her, we realized she had issues. Serious emotional issues.”

Tweeter heard the not-so-subtle warning in his brother’s tone. “I won’t hurt her.”

“Hell, little brother, I know that.” Dev snorted. “You might be the only Walsh male who could bring her fully into the family fold. You’re a typical over-protective Walsh male, plus you know how to handle traumatized women because of Keely and all she went through. I know Andy will join me in wishing you luck. If you haven’t won her over by the time we’re out of the Marines and situated at Sanctuary, we’ll aid the cause. I’m betting Loren and Paul will help also.”

Tweeter never loved his big brother more than in that moment. “I’m curious, other than being shocked she’d turned them down, how did Loren and Paul act toward her after she rejected them?”

“They were fine. Told her no hard feelings. She agreed. Then they told her she was their sister by choice, no matter what.—Tweeter, she cried when they said that.”

His heart swelled with love for his siblings. Loren and Paul had given her what she’d needed at that moment—acceptance after she’d rejected them. He had a gut feeling other men—aside from her ass of a father and the fucker who raped her—hadn’t been as accepting when she’d turned them down.

Dev’s voice softened. “That girl’s had a hard life. Her mom tried to soften it, but Nancy told me one night that DJ even before the rape had taken things too seriously. She never had a real childhood like we had. Even Keely had more of a normal childhood than DJ. Nancy cried when she talked about the aftermath of DJ’s rape. Told me she sent her daughter away and encouraged her to stay away so Sean Varney wouldn’t hurt her again.”

“Shit.” DJ had been sent away and deprived of the only person who loved her. Tweeter really wanted to beat the crap out of Sean Varney and DJ’s father.

“Exactly. If we’d known the guy we’d tied up when we went in after Nancy was DJ’s rapist, the fucking pissant would’ve been a dead man. There’s lots of mine shafts in that part of West Virginia. The body would never have been found.”