Brody: The Bang Shift (19 page)

Who was ringing her doorbell at the butt crack of dawn?
Xan groaned, rolling over to glance at her clock. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “It’s not even five o’clock.”

She definitely hadn’t had enough sleep. She’d stayed up until midnight watching Scott play
Battle Warfare
with Brody and Chad before Scott left to spend the night at Chad’s house.

Over the last few weeks, Brody had been a constant figure in their lives. He’d taken them both out to baseball games, movies, dinner, and when they weren’t all going out, he’d come over and have dinner with them and they’d play board games, watch TV, and hang out like a normal family. It was nice.

Hell, who was she kidding? It fucking rocked. Okay, it freaking rocked. She was really trying to do better on the cussing thing, but she sucked at it. She was woman enough to admit there were some things she couldn’t change about herself, and that was one of them. Not that Brody tried to change anything about her. He seemed to love her just the way she was. And yes, she got a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with her. Thinking that melted her heart and wetted her panties, and if he was anywhere in sight when she’d think about his feelings, she’d jump him. Not that he was complaining. When she’d initiate sex, he’d get so hard and come like a raging beast. It was hot as hell—heck. Yeah, that just sounded stupid.

Grumbling, she grabbed her robe and stalked toward the door. Brody was just here a few hours ago, and she missed him like crazy. He normally stayed the night when Scott stayed over at Chad’s but said he had to get to work early. As for Scott, he was old enough to understand that Brody was her boyfriend, so maybe it was time to ask Scott how he felt about Brody staying over. They’d talked about her relationship with him in general, and Scott loved Brody. He hadn’t admitted that, but she could tell in the way he talked about Brody when he wasn’t around and acted around him when he was.

Of course, she’d have to talk to Brody about it too. This relationship stuff was hard…but worth it.

As she reached the door, she froze. A manila envelope was on the floor beneath the mail slot. Living a life on the run from people who wanted to kill her, she knew a thing or two about not accepting things at face value. This couldn’t be good. Tiptoeing toward the door, but not taking her eyes off the package, she looked through the peephole anyway. Unable to see hardly anything, she flipped on the porch light, illuminating half her small yard.

Still nothing. Whoever had been here only wanted to leave the envelope. For now anyway.

She leaned down and picked up the thin package before turning off the porch light and double-checking that the door was still locked. She walked back to her bedroom because she felt safe there. Maybe it had something to with being able to hide under the covers. Or maybe it was the gun she kept in her nightstand. Either reason worked for her. When she reached her bed, she sat on the edge and opened the package, pulling out what was inside.

Her heart stopped.

She couldn’t breathe, and she felt as if she were going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Her hands trembled as she held up the lone item from inside the envelope.

A photograph.

A picture of Marco and Brody…
Brody
…with their arms slung over each other’s shoulder, smiling and laughing. They looked like the best of friends.

Her ex-husband who wanted to kill her. And her lover. Together embraced in shared camaraderie.

No fucking way.

She was going to be sick, so she swallowed convulsively to stave off the urge, but the lump that quickly worked its way up her throat turned into a sob instead.

She cried as if she were in mourning. And she was because in a heartbeat she’d lost the man she loved. The moment she’d opened this package, her life changed.

As she stared at the photo, her tears dripped on it, and she hastily wiped them off with shaky fingers. This could be evidence, so she needed to hand it over to Jack with the FBI in pristine condition.

Jack.
She needed to call him. She didn’t know for sure what this meant, but she had a damn good idea. Marco wanted her dead, so he must’ve sent Brody to watch over her, make sure she didn’t run when Marco got his ass out of prison. She bet the story about Brody’s amnesia was a lie to draw her in, which wasn’t necessary because she was already in love with him by then.

“Oh God,” she cried, throwing herself into another round of weeping sobs. She was in love with one of her ex-husband’s cronies. He’d played her for a fool, and she was too stupid to see it coming. Twelve years since Marco tried to kill her and she hadn’t trusted another man. When she finally opened her heart to one, it was to one who’d had no intention of protecting it.

She reached for her cell phone as she continued to sob. Jack answered on the first ring, and she was shocked he was able to understand the story as she relayed it to him because it barely made sense to her. It still didn’t. She didn’t want to believe it.

“Fax me a copy of that photo. And you stay put. Leave Scott at the neighbor’s. I’m contacting the closest team to you. They’ll be there in five.”

Xan mumbled her agreement and listened again while he barked orders and repeated himself twice as she turned on the fax machine and sent him the photo. He really did worry for her well-being. But once the call was over, she was all alone again with just her thoughts, and as the seconds ticked by, she felt the walls closing in.

She had to get out of here, find a new place to hide. Maybe that would cure her anxious feeling. She could call Jack once she picked up Scott and got them to a secure location. But as she jumped from the bed and threw on a ratty old pair of jeans and flip-flops, all she could think about was confronting her lover. Did Marco tell him to fuck her, or had Brody ventured down that path all on his own? Her emotions were all over the place. First she was shocked, then devastated, now pissed all within minutes of each other. She figured she’d cycle through them over and over because her heart was breaking, and she didn’t know how to deal with that, but right now rage was taking over.

She’d run with that.

Before grabbing her keys, she took her gun and shoved it in her purse. She was too emotional to think straight right now, but she’d be damned if she allowed herself to walk right into the lion’s den without protection. She stomped outside and into her piece-of-shit car. After several tries, she finally got it to start, then peeled out of her driveway—well as much as this old four-banger would. Her breath hitched from her crying fit, and the action caused her to inhale a concentrated scent of Brody’s masculine aroma. She looked down at the culprit and moaned. She’d slept in one of his t-shirts and still had it on. Her lip started trembling, but she couldn’t start crying again, so she punched the gas. She had to confront him now, or she’d lose her nerve and never do it.

She was at Brody’s house in record time. As she stalked up to his door with the picture in hand, she remembered the last time she’d surprised him at his door, which he’d returned the favor by shoving a gun in her face. And why did he have a gun if he was just a mechanic? God, the signs were just adding up. She wished she could attribute her gullibility to her inexperience with men, but the truth was she’d lived a very cautious life.

There was no excuse.

She knocked on the door and braced herself with a steadying breath and a mental pep talk. She soon realized neither worked when she heard his heavy footfalls inside the house.

The door swung open, and Brody’s sleep-tussled hair caressed his face like a lover. His drowsy eyes became alert as he took her in. Then he reached for her.

“Baby? Is everything all right? Where’s Scott?” The concern in his voice did her in, and the momentary anger she was clinging to dissolved into another sob. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” He pulled her into his house and shut the door, not letting her go.

But she pushed him away. Startled, he eased away from her.

“Xan?” His tone was reproachful, and that was just what she needed to cut through her devastation and grasp on to a spark of anger.

She pulled the picture up with both hands, showing him. “Care to explain this?” He gasped, stepping closer, but she backed away. “Stay where you are.” She shoved her hand in her purse and pulled out her gun. Brody was as big as a fucking house. There was no way she could get away from him if he restrained her, so she had to protect herself as best she could. But as he stared wide-eyed at her, she was beginning to realize how incredibly stupid she was being. She’d been given direct orders to stay and here she was standing in front of the enemy. Really, what was she thinking? When she got a taste of stupidity she really lapped that shit up.

The look in Brody’s eyes went from concern to his own form of devastation. But why? More games? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t leaving here until she got some answers.

No matter how much they were going to hurt her.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! This was bad. When Hunter had called him to say Xan had left her house and was headed in his direction, he had no idea it was going to be about this. He should’ve told Xan about his past and the possibility of his involvement with Marco when he’d had the chance. But he’d hoped to gain irrefutable evidence that either pinned him to Tessie’s murder or proof that it wasn’t him. Yeah, he could’ve just told Xan about everything and let her judge for herself, but he was just too chicken-shit to do it. And now here she was standing in his living room with wet, swollen eyes, tear streaks down her face, clutching a pretty damning photo with a piece aimed at his chest.

For weeks he’d hoped what Colonel told him about killing Xan’s daughter was a lie, and he, Gage and Blade had investigated other possible scenarios, hoping that some other thug had done the deed. And here she was holding the fucking smoking gun. Now there was no mistaking his connection to Marco. He’d be sick if he wasn’t standing before the woman he loved, watching her heart break, knowing it was all his fault.

Fuck.

He slowly dropped his outreached hands and backed away, taking a seat on the couch. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

How the hell was he supposed to start explaining? Jesus, this hurt. “Why don’t you sit down? This could take a while.”

“I’d rather stand.”

His head popped up at her shaky voice. She sounded as if she were about to collapse, but she was putting on a brave front, standing with her feet apart, weapon trained on him with one hand and clutching that picture with the other. “Please,” he begged, looking into her eyes with what he hoped was a nonthreatening look while motioning for her to sit. “I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t even touch you. I lo—I, um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s a long story, baby. I promise to tell you everything.”

She looked as if she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and that fucking hurt too. But he waited patiently. He wanted to find out where she got that picture, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her. She needed answers first and he had to find the words to give them to her.

Slowly, as if she were afraid she’d spook him, she crept over to the opposite end of the couch and perched on the edge. Her poor little knuckles were white from fisting the objects she held, and he had to fight the urge to grab her hands and massage the tension away. She was keeping her distance and using a weapon to protect herself. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel any more threatened than she already did.

“What I told you about my amnesia is true. But what I didn’t tell you is that I’d remembered you from somewhere. I have these little glimpses of memories, flashes of you I couldn’t explain. You see, Colonel did some digging into my past and found some things out that I’m not very proud of.”

“Like what?”

He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back into the sofa. “Like I was a contract killer.”

She stiffened, but thankfully didn’t bolt. Brody didn’t want to have to stop her if she tried leaving, but he needed to tell her everything. He couldn’t afford for her to leave without telling her what he could.

“I don’t know much about that. Like I said, I have no memories of that life, so I’ve been living my life like that never happened. But those ingrained skills do come in handy with my work.”

“Your work? You’re a mechanic,
Brutus
. You don’t need to know how to kill someone.

“Please don’t call me that. I—”

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want,” she gritted out. “Now explain what you mean.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “I mean, we do side projects. I led you to believe those projects were related to the garage, but they’re not, not usually anyway. We take on missions from private and government clients, doin’ jobs they either don’t want to do themselves or can’t. I’m not allowed to tell you anything specific, but I will tell you that you were an assignment. At first. That and the fact that I had memories of you were the reasons why I tried to avoid you in the beginning. We were hired to protect you since Marco was up for parole.”

The color drained out of her face. “The FBI hired you?”

“Shit, Xan, I’m not allowed to talk about this.” If Colonel knew Brody was spilling their secrets he’d have his ass. But this was Xan, and he’d answer whatever he could. “But yeah, we have contacts with the FBI.”

“So you knew about my husband coming after me?”

“
Ex
-husband. And we don’t know that. It was my understanding we were hired just to watch over you. I don’t think the FBI knew for a fact Collins was coming for you. But why wouldn’t he? I guess they didn’t have concrete proof at the time, so they did what they could to keep you safe. But I don’t know. I didn’t ask questions. Just did what I was told.”

“And what were you told?”

She wasn’t making this easy on him. “You and Scott were to be watched 24/7, but I was told to stick close to you. In the beginning, I staked out your place, followed you around.” He averted his eyes. “Later, I didn’t have to be so covert to watch out for you.”