Authors: Christy Reece
As the leader of LCR, Noah had two well-defined priorities for the organization—his employees and the victims they rescued. Meaning he had no choice sometimes but to slice open a life and encourage the spilling of guts.
The first slice was always the biggest surprise. Noah made the jab quick and clean. “Your son, Cody. Tell me about him.”
Sinclair couldn’t control the flinch of pain. Yeah. Low blows always snuck up on you, stealing your breath and often choking the very air from your body. Just because Noah didn’t enjoy the process didn’t mean he wouldn’t take on the deed.
His jaw clenched tight, Sinclair asked, “What do you want to know?”
Second slice was merely a nick. “You blame yourself?”
A stiff-necked nod was Sinclair’s reply.
Third one went a bit deeper. “Why? You weren’t even around when he was taken.”
Sinclair’s green eyes went to shards of hard jade. “And that’s exactly why, McCall. I wasn’t there for him. I was his dad…I was supposed to protect him. Instead, I was—” Sinclair shook his head. “I was a lousy father.”
Noah eased back on the knife, giving Sinclair a little breathing room. “You weren’t still at the rehab center, were you? By that time, you were back home, had recovered from your injury?”
“Yes. My rehab was over.”
“You were on disability but still with the Jets, right? Quarterback?”
If a jaw could be made from granite, Brennan Sinclair’s would make the perfect specimen. The man didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “Can’t say much for your research skills, McCall, if you have to ask questions that a two-year-old could find the answers to.”
Ignoring the man’s uncensored jab, Noah said, “And where were your wife and son? They lived in the same house with you?”
“Of course they lived with me. They were supposed to be out of town.” He added with a trace of bitter sarcasm, “At Vanessa’s parents’ house.”
“And instead they were where?”
“Still in the city.”
“Odd that you would take on the guilt when someone you loved and trusted lied to you.”
“Doesn’t matter. A father takes care of his children first. I failed him.”
“Sounds like it was your wife who failed your son. Not you.”
Fire leaped into Sinclair’s eyes, and Noah wondered if the guy was going to go for his throat. Instead, he showed an admirable amount of control—a plus in his favor—and spoke through gritted teeth, “Damn you, McCall. You know exactly why I feel guilty.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Sinclair surged to his feet. “You know what happened. And if you don’t, then you fucking suck at your job.”
“Sit down, Sinclair. Unless you want to end the interview, that is.”
The man slowly sat back down, but the fury remained in his eyes, banked for now.
“Why do you want to work for LCR?”
“I’m not sure I do anymore.”
“Now that’s interesting. A commitment to rescuing the innocent can be demolished in the span of a few moments? With just a few words?”
“Tell me, McCall. What kind of reaction did you want to see?”
“A truthful one, which I think I got.” Noah changed tactics. “You’ve been trained and worked with some of the best.”
“The Carmichael Group. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
He’d heard of them, even worked with them. They’d designed the facility in Arizona where he sent all his Elite operatives to train. The Carmichael Group was made up of three former special ops guys, who after their service time ended, opened a training facility in upstate New York. They took only twelve candidates each session, trained the hell out of them and either broke them or made them lethal.
In their spare time they designed facilities for other organizations, which was how Noah first met them. In the last two years, they’d created a name for themselves in both security services and rescuing kidnapped victims.
Sinclair had been with the Carmichaels for three years—first as a student, then a trainer, and now a full-fledged partner. But it wasn’t hard to figure out why he wanted to leave them.
There was no doubt that Sinclair’s training would be an asset to LCR. But how would the man react when he learned that Noah wanted to throw him to the lions on his first LCR op? Just how strong was Brennan Sinclair’s need for privacy? Would it outweigh doing the right thing? He would soon see.
Brennan waited for McCall’s job offer, confident that it was imminent. Sure, the guy had pissed him off, picked and dug at a wound that would never heal. His priorities had been screwed up. Cody had paid the price. He understood the reasons for McCall’s line of questioning. Didn’t like it, but understood.
“Your training is similar to LCR’s. You’d be ready on day one to work an operation.”
Yeah, he was perfect for the job, and McCall knew it.
“I would want you for the LCR Elite team, which handles the rescue of high-value, hot-target victims throughout the world.”
Brennan nodded. Sounded more than challenging and just what he was looking for. Being out of the country for extended periods of time, where few people knew him, sounded perfect.
McCall went on. “However, your first assignment would not be a typical LCR job.”
“What would it be?”
“A friend has received some vague threats. She needs protection.”
“You want me to be a bodyguard?”
“Yes.”
Brennan studied McCall’s enigmatic face. He’d hate to play poker with this guy, because he literally had no expression. It was like a blank canvas, unreadable. However, he did know enough about Noah McCall to realize the man wasn’t one to play games.
“Okay…I’m listening.”
“The name Kacie Dane ring any bells?”
Brennan searched his memory. The name tickled at the back of his mind. Then it clicked. “Model?”
“Yes.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Brennan held back an explosive sigh. “What kind of threats?”
“Vague at this point. She may or may not have a stalker, blackmailer, maybe both. Or someone is just trying to scare the hell out of her. Either way, he appears to know secrets that could destroy her. I’d like for you to watch over her until we can evaluate the risk.”
“The police involved?”
“Not yet. We don’t know enough about it to involve them yet. Besides, police means press, and that’s something she wants to avoid.”
He could definitely identify with that. “Why would she call a rescue organization for something like this?”
“Kacie has a unique connection to several of our operatives.”
“She a girlfriend of yours, McCall?”
Though McCall’s expression never changed, Brennan knew he’d pissed the man off. “You and I don’t know each other all that well, Sinclair, so I’ll let that one slide. But yes, Kacie is special to me. She’s special to all of LCR.”
“If she means that much to you, I would imagine you have plenty of people who could act as her bodyguard. Why me?”
“Avoiding the kind of press a possible stalker would draw is of utmost importance.”
Brennan had seen photos of Kacie Dane. Tall, blond, beautiful, but with an intriguing wholesomeness that separated her from the sex-kitten models. When he was playing ball, he’d had more than his share of exposure to various celebrities, including models.
McCall went on. “If the press gets wind that she may have a stalker, they’ll have a field day. She has very little privacy as it is already. Understandably, Kacie doesn’t want anyone to know she needs a bodyguard, so whoever protects her will need to act as her lover, not her bodyguard.”
Brennan closed his eyes briefly. Should’ve seen that one coming. “And, of course, no one would blink an eye at a former Jets quarterback, who’s had more than his share of paparazzi attention, dating a beautiful model.”
“You dated several models before you married.”
Brennan couldn’t decide which angered him more. That McCall wanted him because of his former celebrity status, or that once again he would be subjected to the paparazzi feeding frenzy.
“Isn’t Kacie Dane supposed to be the face of innocence? What’s it going to do to her reputation when she’s seen with one of the most reviled sports figures in the world?”
“People see what they want to see. Some will decide she’s even more naïve than they thought. Some will see her as tarnishing her reputation. And some will see her as an angel trying to save one of the fallen.”
“And most will see me as the man taking advantage of America’s sweetheart…using her to clean up my reputation.”
McCall shrugged, making no effort to whitewash the situation. “Yes.”
“You know the only reason I want to leave the Carmichael Group in the first place is because of the publicity they’re gaining?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you want to throw me to the publicity hounds on my first op?”
McCall stayed silent. The question had been rhetorical. There was no question what would happen when word got out that the infamous Brennan Sinclair was dating the fresh-faced, oh-so-innocent Kacie Dane.
“And when the op is over?”
“Then you can sink into LCR obscurity, just as you want.”
Though he’d almost rather be stabbed repeatedly with rusty nails and fed to killer sharks, Brennan didn’t like backing down from a challenge. And
challenge
was the correct word. Probably the toughest one he’d faced in years.
So what could he say but, “Hell, I’m in.”
Chapter Six
New York City
The elevator zoomed up to Kacie Dane’s apartment. Brennan had to hand it to the guy—McCall knew how to make things happen. The moment Brennan had agreed to the job, the LCR leader had stood and asked, “You got your go bag?”
That was one thing he never left home without. “Yeah.”
“Then let’s move.”
In less than an hour, they’d been in the air, headed to New York City. LCR’s plane had been fueled and ready. Apparently, Brennan’s interview and subsequent acceptance of the job had been the only hold up.
As he’d stepped onto the plane, he’d gotten another surprise. Justin and his LCR partner, Riley Ingram, would be on the case as well. Though Justin never talked about specifics of his LCR jobs, Brennan knew he was a member of the Elite team and most of his ops were international. He’d been about to say something when he noticed that Riley winced slightly when she moved to shake Brennan’s hand. She must have been recovering from an injury.
It had been the first time Brennan had met Riley, and though she was a pretty, delicate-looking woman, her too-solemn face and expressionless eyes seemed oddly incongruent with the way Justin had described his partner. Something didn’t jive.
Once the plane was airborne, McCall had gone into detail about Kacie’s ordeal five years ago. Though he’d been vague in his description of what she had endured, Brennan understood enough to know that Harrington had drugged, tortured, and repeatedly raped her. Others had been involved in her abduction and torture, but Harrington had apparently been the mastermind and the rapist.
Harrington was dead, along with three of his henchmen. The last one was in a maximum security prison with no outside access.
Having been hounded by an unrelenting and often heartless press, Brennan could definitely see the reasons behind Kacie’s name change. And he could understand her need to keep what happened to her from leaking. The press would have a blast in detailing every horrific thing that had happened to this beautiful woman.
Though the flight had been short, Brennan had used the time to read the background Kacie had created for herself. The official biography on her website said she grew up in Maine, an only child to a single mother who died years ago. No other family was mentioned, other than a vague reference to distant relatives.
According to the bio, Kacie was discovered while working as a makeup consultant at a large department store in Manhattan. She was twenty-six years old and had never been married. She dated occasionally, but wasn’t seeing anyone on a regular basis.
Her first few modeling jobs were for clothing catalogs, but as she created a reputation for herself as a serious-minded, dedicated professional, the job offers grew. She was now one of the most recognizable models in the country, and her face had graced the covers of fashion magazines, celebrity magazines, and all the tabloids.
He looked closely at the photographs on several different websites. The description of tall, blond, and beautiful didn’t do Kacie Dane justice. She had delicate features, a full, mobile mouth, and a brilliant smile that held no hint of artifice. Her lovely hazel-green eyes looked serene, appearing to have no shadows or secrets. Brennan could definitely see her appeal as the wholesome, hometown girl.
There was an amazing amount of information to read, but almost all of it was superficial, with the exception of one impressive item. Two years ago, Kacie had founded the Kacie Dane Foundation, an organization designed to assist young women who’d been victims of violence and abuse. He admired her for that. She could’ve just put it all behind her and moved on with her life, but she’d chosen to help other victims. Yeah, that was damn impressive.