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Iwasjetlagged,stillcraving red meat, and beyond exhausted by the time I strolled into my brothers’ offices the next day. I was glad to be back in Texas—the smell of sunshine and barbeque practically swirled on the breeze, mixing with ocean salt and red dirt, relaxing me in a way very few things could. My morning flight was delayed due to engine trouble, and after spending almost the entire day at the airport, the flight had been yet another irritation. First class should have afforded me some time to relax, but the man seated next to me had other ideas. Granted, he was pretty in a polished polo-crowd kind of way, but like most men, he hadn’t bothered to look past my face. He also hadn’t shut up about his favorite subject the entire flight—himself. And trust me, he wasnotthat interesting.
I glanced at my watch as I entered the lobby, noting it was already almost five. The empty front desk was unusual, but Maria, my brothers’ silver-haired miracle worker of a receptionist, might have taken off early if the grandkids were in town. Taking the opportunity to snoop, I walked around the desk to pull out her chair, waking the computer as I did so. Maria had been with our family since before I was born, having started with my father shortly after he’d married my mother. My brothers wouldn’t hear of anyone taking her place, and she spoiled them rotten.
Her birthday was next month, and for reasons that continued to escape me, my brothers, apparently thinking that gift-giving was somehow a female-only appointed task, stuck me with coming up with a present from the whole family. More accurately, they knew my gift would be kick-ass and her favorite, and they wanted to jump on that bandwagon. Pulling up her browser history, I clicked through the pages, not at all feeling like I was infringing on her privacy. It was a company computer, after all—if Maria didn’t want me to know what she looked at during her downtime, she should have at least deleted her user history.
I’d just finished committing the beach house rental in Maine that she’d looked at repeatedly to memory when the door to the lobby opened, and two men stepped in from the hall. Both were well-muscled, but one was definitely a gym rat while the other was rougher, illustrating in vivid lines that he’d actually gained his through need and use, not just by filling his time with endless reps in front of a mirror.
The first man, Mr. Gym Muscles, was short, likely an inch or two shorter than my five-foot-eleven. His All-American typical good looks—blond hair and brown eyes—didn’t detract from the sneer that twisted his lips as he laid eyes on me, sizing me up and stereotyping me in a glance. I did the former and tried very hard not to do the latter, but his collared black shirt, two sizes too small, made it hard not to. I gave him points for the police shield proudly displayed on his shoulder, though I wondered if he had to control his breathing for fear his shirt would rip in two. He walked toward me, and I automatically evaluated him for weaknesses, his attitude putting me on alert. He limped slightly on his left leg, revealing a previous knee injury that I could capitalize on if needed. His movements illustrated his aggression and attack style—he would come at me hard and fast but was a brawler at best. I could take him with minimal effort if needed. After dismissing him, I focused on the man with him.
Now there’s a worthy opponent, I thought in appreciation. The second man was taller, much taller. He wasn’t stocky like Mr. Gym Muscles, but had solid corded muscle and a lanky physique that was deceptively strong. He, too, wore black tactical pants, but his simple black tee shirt was free of any decoration and actually fit correctly. His dark brown hair was cut short, just over military regulation, and I wondered if it was long enough for me to grip in my hands. His mossy green eyes were evaluating every inch of the interior layout of the lobby, barely touching me before going back to look at the room, cementing my former military guess. He fell a few steps behind the first man, slightly to the man’s left, his walk much more balanced and controlled, belaying an extensive history of martial arts and experience in fights where one wrong move could result in death. His square jaw and slightly crooked nose made him too rugged to be called handsome, but he was definitely a looker, his magnetism more visceral than appearance-driven. So much so, I had a hard time looking away from him and back at the other man.
“Your boss still in?” Mr. Gym Muscles’ words were an attempt at being polite, but his perusal of my body as he spoke was completely inappropriate as he leaned into the desk, an impressive monstrosity that dominated the entry and separated the lobby from the maze of offices. It was obvious as he scanned me slowly up and down. I hated to say I was used to it, but at this point, it was nothing new.
Grateful I was wearing pants instead of a skirt, I cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you are?” My patented ice-bitch persona was front and center. My bored expression, paired with completely ignoring his blatant behavior, had him flushing in irritation. I wasn’t sure what he was there for, but I knew three things immediately. One, I didn’t like him. Two, he wouldn’t make it through our hiring process, and three, he was an asshole.
“Mike Tomleson.” He didn’t offer a hand. “I’m here for the Tactical Firearms instructor position.”
I snorted, not at all concerned with trying to hide my amusement. There was no way in hell he would teach a class for Accardi Tactical. No matter how qualified he was to teach firearms, “tactical” was a key—not just in how you handled your weapon. It was clear in the time it had taken him to cross the room that he wasn’t up to our standards and had no interest in working to improve to get there. We were a family at Accardi Tactical, and if you couldn’t fit with our standards both personally and professionally, you weren’t welcome.
“And,” I prompted again, waiting for a beat before I continued, “if memory serves me correctly, everyone receives an itinerary prior to arriving here for evaluation.” It had been more than a hot minute since I was involved in the administration side of the business, or any part of it, for that matter, but I couldn’t imagine anything had changed that much.
His hands dropped off the counter, balling into fists at his sides. I was egging him on, I admitted it, but I hadn’t had some fun in a while—unless you called cutting off a human trafficker’s dick and shoving it down his throat fun. And since my appointed psychiatrist got more than a little squirmy when I admitted things like that, I tried not to get as much enjoyment from the wet work anymore for fear she’d pull me from the field.
The man behind him cleared his throat a few steps away from us. “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” he began, and I was relieved to discover he wasn’t with the idiot in front of me. “Keene asked me to give him a few minutes of my time when I had the chance. Does he happen to still be in?”
I dismissed the hothead, pretending to give the other man my full attention. I smirked at him; my expression was much friendlier, but my professional mask was still firmly in place.
“Keene?” I certainly hoped he was since all my brothers were supposed to be here somewhere. It might be close to bankers’ hours, but it was rare for my brothers to cut out of work before seven. My plan was to put them all on the spot and have no option but to say yes to us imposing on Gideon and leaving early to have a cookout at his place. I missed them and wanted some family time. “I’m afraid I’m not completely sure. You’re more than welcome to check, though. Take the second hallway down on the right. He’s the third door on the left.” It was a major breach in protocol, but I wanted to push the jerk in front of me further. Besides, he would be much more apt to do something if it were just the two of us. The man smirked, seeming to follow my thoughts, and took a step back.
“Thank you for the information,” he said, leaning back on his heels, “but I’m fine waiting here.” Until the asshole left remained unsaid.
I sighed in irritation—the man just had to be a buzzkill—before turning back to Mr. Gym Muscles in front of me, who looked like he was about to have an aneurism over being ignored. He might be handsome to most, but I was around the most beautiful and handsome regularly, and as the saying goes, beauty was only skin deep.
“As I was saying,” I let my voice ice over again. “You would have been provided an itinerary. Any questions should be directed to your Human Resources liaison.”
“Look, sweetheart—”
My eyes narrowed at him. I hated pet names. Especially from men who thought they could take liberties because I had a pretty face and they thought they were God’s gift to women. I stood and snagged a pen that Maria had on her desk. My heels, a necessary part of the ensemble I wore to maintain my image, would be a hindrance in an actual fight, but I didn’t have much hope things would get that interesting with Keene’s military buddy in the room. If he were truly Keene’s friend, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saving me—after all, being a hero was pretty much ingrained into any good military personnel, active duty or not. I was betting on very recently active, judging by his awareness. It took a while for the edge to wear off, but his over-regulation haircut clued me into his likely change in status.
Cutting Mr. Gym Muscles off, I waved a hand toward the door. “Mr. … I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. You have your way forward. The office is closed for the day, and I have plans, so I’m sorry to say you’re going to need to leave now.”
His jaw opened and shut as he stood there, stunned, before pointing to the second man. “He’s still here,” he argued, his face turning red and his fist flexing. I felt my spark of hope for a good fight grow. Looking over at the stranger, I made a show of studying him.
“You look trustworthy. If I give you a key, will you lock up behind you?” I asked, making a show of looking around for the stuff I didn’t bring in with me.
He smirked, clearly understanding my game, nodding once. “Sure. Anything I can do to help a pretty lady. Should I—”
Asshole took one step toward me, his aggravation past the point of being contained. The stranger for Keene broke off, coming toward us as if to stop Mike, but I was quicker. I grabbed a handful of blond hair and, in a blur, slammed the idiot’s head against the counter. The sound of skull against marble was satisfying, as was the man’s yell of hurt and surprise. Holding the pen in my hand like a weapon, I balanced on the balls of my feet, waiting for the charge I knew was coming.
“What’s going on out here?” My brother Boone appeared in the hallway, walking toward us.
Mike the Asshole was holding his nose, muttering something about an assault, but I put on my most innocent expression.
“Just trying to stay occupied, waiting on all y’all to finish up for the day. I was just about to take out the trash.” Seeing my brother was the last missing piece I needed to settle back into the “home me,” bringing my Texas accent back in full force.
The other man snorted, and Boone looked at him. “Brody, right?” he asked, extending a hand and ignoring me for the moment.
Brody returned the handshake. “Nice to see you again. Keene still here?” he asked, and my brother nodded, pointing him in the direction he needed to go. The stranger—Brody—glanced at me, giving me a respectful nod before disappearing down the hall. I resisted the urge—barely—to check out his ass to see if it was as spectacular as his front. My brother was present after all, and apparently, I’d missed him enough to give him a break and not get him worked up any more than he was already.
