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228 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 22, 2013
His lower body hummed as he stared at the bare flesh highlighted in the sunrays shining through the skylight. Rachel was a goddess. Not in the supermodel, movie starlet sense. Those women did nothing for him. She came off more as the small town, girl next door, they-know-how-to-grow-‘em-down-on-the-farm-type goddess. And damn, was she blessed.
Her push-up bra urged him to text his broker and buy stock in women’s lingerie. If she walked into the Stock Exchange wearing that thing, she could single-handedly revive Wall Street and the nation’s economy.
Shutting off the water, he turned and grabbed a towel off a hook. Why did he a towel?
She gulped. Tristan had told her not to let go. What if that had been a foot, or a layer of backside? Not that she couldn’t use an inch or two sheared off in that particular area, but that was besides the point.
“Are you paid to kill people?”
Shrugging, he pulled the bowl from the microwave and placed it on the counter beside hers. “Sometimes. But, they’re contracts on hardcore criminals and bad guys.”
His grasp on her arm tightened. He lowered his voice, the darkness amplifying his words. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Rachel.”
Leaning over him, she picked up his left arm and studied the copper and gold band that covered most of his forearm. “So, how does this thing work?”
“I have a gold and copper compound in my blood. The band contains a Tesla-derived coil that feeds electricity into my bloodstream through a high frequency generator powered by solid hydrogen.”
A disquieting sense of need came over her. She wanted to fix that fear. She wanted to take it away from him and assure him he’d never have to fear again.
“Well, I’ve… never been in the company of a professional hit man before.” His eyes widened.
“What? What are you talking about?” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest.
“He told me what D.I.R.E. does and how you’re going to be part of the organization.
Last night, she’d accepted him for who he was, had set aside all of the abilities and powers that defined him to the world and loved him as a man - as someone who mattered to her.
“Hell, Jacobs, I don’t think there’s any limit to what Cody might pull. He’s hell bent on marrying her now, for some reason. I’m afraid he’ll take her and elope.”
As the service dragged on, Tristan tuned out Pastor Collins altogether and stared at the cross on the wall above the altar. Why me? Why was he, Tristan Jacobs, one of the chosen few asked to protect the world?
“What does a special agent do? Is he like a James Bond or something?”
Rachel said, “He calls himself a private contractor, a soldier for hire.” Glenna gasped on a smile.
“A mercenary? Cool.”
“Cool?” Frowning, Rachel pulled back her head. “He kills people for a living.”
The wedding seemed eons ago instead of twenty-four hours. She’d learned so much about life and love in that short period of time.
“Damned glad someone had some sense and got you out of there. Cody Brewster is not a man you want to marry.” Tristan leaned his hands on top of the chair back.
“You think he’s dangerous?”
Ben nodded. “Oh, yeah. When he and Jock want something, they will get rid of anything standing in their way.”
“Don’t you get it? Ensuring you’re safe is worth more to me than my life ever will. I don’t have anything outside of D.I.R.E. If I die, I want to die for something I believe in and, take my word for it, there isn’t much out there. But you, Rachel, you’re worth dying for.”
Tristan had humiliated Cody twice now. Cody never took insulting incidents lightly.
Cody and two of his friends stood behind the bed of a black pickup truck. One of his friends wore brass knuckles, the other held a heavy chain taut between his fists. Cody wore an arrogant smirk, a baseball bat propped on his shoulder.
“Rachel, you have to trust me.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I do. With my life.
Tristan swung the wrong end of the bat into Cody’s jaw. He fell face first to the ground.
Everyone he’d spent the evening with now knew he could become invisible.
“I find it funny that he asks me to do what he says and expects me to do it. But, when I ask him to do something for me, he gets a choice.”
“He’s done some bad things, Rachel.” She lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
“So have you. We all have.”
Cocking a brow, he said, “Did he tell you what he did at Cody’s bachelor party?”
“He drugged Cody. Put Rohypnol in his drink so he’d stay passed out until after the wedding.”
What else haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing,” he said.
What had she done? Drugging Cody had been disgraceful, yes, but Tristan had saved her from a horrible, loveless marriage. [...] How could she betray Tristan like that when he’d stood by her through the church debacle, Cody’s tirades, and babysitting?
“So, she kicked you out, huh?” Ben gathered the cards in the middle of the table and shuffled them. [...] The old man laid the deck of cards on the table for Tristan to cut. “Probably the first time you ever did what you were told, right?”
Ben dealt the cards between them. “You come off as this big, bad top-secret mercenary, with your fancy weapons and martial arts. But you let a sweet, innocent woman like Rachel Monroe tell you what to do.” Ben tsked. “If you’re going to get anywhere in life and marriage, you have to know when to let her make the decisions and when to tell her how it’s going to be.” Stopping his movements, he leaned across the table. “Today, son, was one of those ‘tell her how it’s going to be’ situations.”