CHAPTER ONE
Five years ago, Paris...
“Okay, Sievers, out with it.”
Damn. Busted.
Brett Sievers, or Colt to his buddies, his brothers, looked up from his beer, sighing when the rest of his teammates pulled up chairs and gathered at his table. The one he’d picked in order to isolate himself. So this kind ofbrotherlyintervention wouldn’t happen.
One night to himself. That’s all he’d needed. Time to process the letter—to deal with the resulting pain—without being on display. Or having to muster up fake enthusiasm he couldn’t feel. Because the guys would know. Would be able to tell something was wrong. Which had meant ditching them until he could convincingly lie his way out. And god knew, he could sell a lie with the best of them. Just…not tonight.
But, they’d all used their damn Delta skills and scoped him out. And before he’d done more than order a beer.
Brett had thought he’d done a damn good job of hiding. Going to a bar that was definitely not his taste. Loud technomusic, flashing disco lights, and more bodies grinding on the dance floor than was probably legal, it represented everything he hated about furloughs. And the last place he thought his squad would hunt him down.
Or course, Six and Cannon were among the men. Bastards were damn good trackers, even in an urban environment. And they knew Brett too well. Had spent five years watching each other’s backs. There wasn’t a piece of him he hadn’t bared at some point—a secret he’d been able to keep. Not that they were any different.
Quieter, maybe. A bit better at pushing down the really bad shit. But, he’d have hunted their asses out if their positions had been reversed. Which might account for the lack of surprise in his gut at them appearing out of the crowd.
And that wasn’t even taking into account what Six could do. Hell, knowing the man, he’d read Brett’s mind or something equally creepy. There was a reason everyone called the man Six—Brett wasn’t even sure he remembered Six’s actual name. Casey something, he thought. Six had this way about him—sensed things a moment or two before everyone else. As if he knew shit was about to go sideways. Just this morning, he’d grabbed Brett and shoved him out of the way before a tent pole fell exactly where Brett would have been standing. What would have resulted in a nasty concussion.
The unit had given up trying to figure the guy out. If he had some kind of extrasensory perception thing going, or just super heightened senses. If it saved their asses, it didn’t matter. He could be an alien, and it wouldn’t change anything. Not when he’d single-handedly kept them all from seeing an early grave. Which meant, he’d probably just used some kind ofJedimind trick, or thatVulcanmeld thing, and sussed out exactly where Brett had ventured.
He took a long pull of his beer, giving the men a shrug. “Not sure what you’re talking about. Just wanted a beer.”
A snort from Ethan Vale, also known as Phoenix. He was the newest member—still a bit green around the edges. But the guy was a hell of a sniper. Better than anyone Brett had worked with, yet, including his other Delta brothers. And Phoenix was fearless. Beyond normal in that department, as if he hadn’t simply made peace with the fact he could die on any given mission, but halfwaywantedto. It bordered on reckless—freaking creepy, if Colt was honest—but Phoenix got the job done. Kept his brothers safe in the process.
Phoenix made direct eye contact. “Please. First, you were late for our run this morning. Then, you disappeared while we were breaking camp—right after Six saved you from getting cold-cocked. And if that wasn’t enough, Cannon had to tackle your ass when that tango appeared on the side of the road and damn near blew your head off. Not to mention, you ditched us the minute we got sent on mandatory decompress.” He glanced around at the gathering of men as he laid his arms along the back of the chair facing the table. “So, out with it.”
Another pull. Then, another. Not that it helped. A dozen pints wouldn’t be enough to drown his heart. The one still bleeding out. Fuck women.
Six sighed. “I think maybe we were wrong, guys. Let’s give Colt some space.”
“We weren’t wrong, Six, we?—”
“You heard the man.” Cannon, this time. “Clear out. We’ll meet for breakfast at the hotel restaurant at oh eight hundred. I suggest everyone get their run in before that.”
Phoenix grunted but stood, twisting the chair the right way ‘round then heading off with the rest. Six gave Brett’s shoulder a pat then tagged along behind the rest of the men, quicklydisappearing into the crowd. Only Cannon stayed at the edge of the table, one hand on the top, the other shoved into his pocket.
He waited until Brett looked up at him. “I don’t need to have Six’s radar to guess that this involves Ellis.”
Brett focused on the table. If he said her name…
Cannon blew out a rough breath. “How’d she do it?”
“Sent a letter out with Priest’s squad.” Though, letter was pushing it. Several lines of accusations and blame. Of how he’d never measured up—never would. And signed with her full name, not the short form he’d given her. The freaking cherry on top of the shit sundae. He tipped his beer toward Cannon. “Real classy.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know she was special.”
Special.That was a fucking understatement. “Me, too. I thought…”
He’dthoughtthat they were serious. That the two years they’d been fighting to make them work—to not let the distance or the job destroy their relationship—had meant something. Hell, they’d talked about retiring. About moving in together. Even starting a family. She’d been so happy, planning on meeting him this week in Paris. Mapping out how they’d orchestrate leaving the service when the time came. It would kill a part of him to abandon his brothers, his team, but damn it, Ellis was worth it. Was his damn future. His world. Everything had been fine, then…a Dear John letter to end all letters.
He’d have said it stung, but that didn’t come close to how he felt. Burned. Hollowed out. Left to rot in the sun—thosewere a better description. Only maybe all of them, together.
Cannon nodded, tapping the table with one finger. “She say why?”
“Just the usual.”
