Game On (The Morgan Brothers Book 4)
The Morgan Brothers Series – Book Four
By Avery Gale
© Copyright September 2016 by Avery Gale
ISBN 978-1-944472-32-0
All cover art and logo © Copyright 2016 by Avery Gale
All rights reserved.
The Morgan Brothers® and Avery Gale® are registered trademarks
Cover Design by Jess Buffett
Published by Avery Gale Books
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
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A
spen Andrews stared
blankly at the computer screen lost in her memories. There’d been so many times when she’d wondered if she’d ever find anything to replace the dream job she’d lost eighteen months earlier. And this was one of those moments. It had been a long, tough road, but for the most part, she was finally settling into her new gig. The bullet she’d taken in St. Maarten not only splintered ribs causing several puncture wounds in her lungs and various other
essential
organs, but it also sent her entire life careening in a different direction.
She’d been lucky, the woman she’d been protecting was one of the premier pediatric surgeons in the world. And, Dr. Cecelia Barnes hadn’t hesitated to put those skills to work when Aspen leapt in front of the bullet meant for her. Even the small island’s less than top-tier clinic hadn’t dimmed the skilled doctor’s ability to pull off one of her most miraculous saves. The brilliant brunette beauty had assured Aspen the pediatric label was misleading…all the parts were the same, the only difference had been the large
obstacles
on her chest. Evidently, pediatric patients rarely had 38D breasts.
CeCe Barnes had saved Aspen’s life, but she hadn’t been able to save her career as an Air Force pilot. The Air Force doctors had been impressed with Dr. Barnes’ work, but their respect for her medical skills hadn’t influenced their decision. They’d still stamped
Diminished Respiratory Capacity
at the top of their report. Those three words had ended Aspen’s Air Force career.
It was truly astonishing how devastating a little ink, and a rubber stamp could be. She’d found it oddly anticlimactic to be sidelined by a single rifle shot after dodging surface to air missiles as a fighter pilot for several years. She’d discovered all to quickly the burning loyalty she’d felt toward the Air Force had been one sided.
The one bright point in the whole debacle was hearing from her friends how effectively CeCe had put Aspen’s commanding officer in his place. When he’d shown up in her clinic on St. Maarten, Lt. Colonel Brian Riggs had tried to intimidate her with his formidable presence. Smiling to herself, Aspen still wished someone had videotaped it. She’d have loved to see the diminutive doctor set Riggs back on his heels.
All those cell phones in the room and not one of those yoyos thought to record the encounter? So much for all that nonsense about a YouTube generation.
Kent West had roared with laughter when he recounted it later. “Damn, Asp, it was the funniest thing ever. The room was wall to fucking wall with former military men all standing a little straighter when those stripes stalked in the door. But Riggs’s rank didn’t mean a thing to Cecelia. It was great, the most powerful person in the room was an exhausted woman who didn’t give two shits who…and I quote, ‘Lieutenant Colonel Whoever’ thought he was.”
Aspen had finally threatened to ban Kent from her room if he didn’t stop making her laugh—damn, laughing had been seriously painful those first few days. She’d been friends with the West boys and Jax McDonald since they were kids, and she couldn’t remember ever seeing Kent laugh as hard as he had when he told her that particular story.
By the time she’d come out of surgery, all three of her childhood pals had been front and center. Their support hadn’t surprised her, but it had been damned comforting. Kyle West’s face had been the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. The lines of worry erased in an instant when he smiled down at her. “Damn, baby-girl, you scared the shit out of us.” From anyone else, the words would have sounded gruff, but from Kyle, they resounded with love.
When they’d been younger, her three best friends had been the only ones who’d understood her need for speed, and they’d enjoyed indulging her at every opportunity. Holy hell, it was no small miracle she hadn’t gotten them all killed with her uncensored adventurous spirit before finally enlisting. The Air Force had shown her how to focus all that restless energy so it worked for her rather than sending her in a hundred different directions all at once. The three men had managed to track her while she’d been in the Air Force despite Jax’s commitments in the NFL and the West brothers’ own deployments. Kent and Kyle had made no secret of the fact she was under their protection…something she’d both appreciated and detested.
The only reason Uncle Sam hadn’t cut Aspen loose after the St. Maarten clusterfuck was because her friends had gone to bat for her. And obviously saving Cecelia Barnes’ life had also been a pretty big factor. It seemed helping out the wife of legendary former black ops agent, Cameron Barnes, was cause for special consideration. Cam was still extremely well-regarded in the upper echelons of the Pentagon, and his favor bought you a lot of latitude despite the fact the mission had been strictly off the books. Personally, she thought the words
former and retired
were questionable at best when referring to Cameron Barnes, but she had yet to prove he was still actively engaged in any mission work.
Aspen had been offered a position in the Department of Homeland Security that hadn’t appealed to the adrenaline junkie in her. But, with no other viable options available, she’d accepted before she’d even been cleared to return to work. Her trust fund was locked up until she turned thirty and she’d promised herself she would avoid using any of the allowance she’d received. She’d always turned the stipends down, and preferred to make her way like everyone else.
After enduring eight grueling weeks of physical therapy at the hands of a tyrant calling himself a
restorative specialist
, Aspen had finally been cut loose. Her new employer hired a moving company to pack up her meager belongings, deposited them in a storage facility, and then promptly sent her to various scenic locales in B.F.E. Her boss hadn’t been kidding when he’d used the acronym. Bum-fuck Egypt, indeed.
Robert Crane had to be a direct descendant of the fictional Ichabod Crane from the old animated movie. He was frightening brilliant, with instincts no one dared question, but he had the personality of a slice of unbuttered toast. And, listening to him speak was as good as any tranquilizer Aspen had ever taken. She’d nodded off in meetings so many times he’d sent her back to Walter Reed Hospital for a sleep study. Aspen was fairly certain his
recommendation
for the study had been more about punishment than a serious concern for her health,
the asshat.
After losing her parents when she was thirteen, Aspen had drifted between the homes of several less than enthused relatives. The women were either jealous of the attention their significant others paid her, or hopeful she’d keep the men preoccupied so they could pursue their own extra-curricular activities. The fact her grandfather had the foresight to limit the use of her trust fund, hadn’t helped to endear her to those tasked with helping her either.
Aspen’s maternal grandfather hadn’t approved of his only daughter’s gypsy lifestyle or her marriage to an American without any visible means of supporting her. The old man hadn’t been anyone’s fool that was for sure. Hell, even Aspen realized how foolishly her parents spent money. They would have squandered anything her grandfather had given them.
You didn’t amass a billion-dollar empire in the eastern bloc without being good at reading people, and from what she’d learned about him, her grandfather had possessed an uncanny ability to predict people’s behavior. Knowing what people were going to do, gave him a huge advantage in business that he’d capitalized on. She’d been the only person he’d never fully understood. He might not have understood his adrenaline junkie granddaughter, but he’d certainly provided for her future.
Assigned to DHS’s Office of Cyber Security meant she could work from almost anywhere in the U.S. Her superiors hadn’t hesitated to send her bouncing around the country like a damned rubber ball. One of her first assignments had been to confirm the clearance on a man Uncle Sam wanted to recruit. The independent developer would be contracted to develop various software applications. It hadn’t taken her long to discover Phoenix Morgan was exactly who he seemed to be. The fact he was the younger brother of a recently retired Navy SEAL might have gotten Phoenix’s foot in the door, but it wasn’t going to get him the contract without a full clearance.
During the sixty days she’d been given to
observe and investigate
Phoenix Morgan, Aspen had discovered a previously unrealized talent for on-line gaming. After she’d stopped to think about it…it actually made perfect sense. The thousands of hours she’d spent flying in virtual reality had programmed her brain for the type of role play required in the games she favored. Her supervisor hadn’t sent her to Montana to personally observe the man, preferring she simply observe his on-line behavior. At first, she’d been relieved to stay put for a change, but after getting to know him, she’d regretted the distance.
Phoenix Morgan was a genius at developing games spanning a wide spectrum of ability and skill development—the reason the U.S. military wanted him on-board was a no-brainer. What was more difficult to understand was what the National Security Administration had in mind for him? For some reason, the man had fallen on the short list of people the NSA and DHS wanted for a “special project” but no one
in-the-know
was willing to talk.
One of Aspen’s biggest downfalls in the military had been her curiosity. The Air Force’s
need-to-know
mentality had driven her to distraction. If she was flying a mission intended to clear targets, she damned well felt like she
needed-to-know
, but the U.S. military rarely agreed. There had been a lot she loved about being a fighter pilot—but the aristocracy of information sharing hadn’t been one of them.
Redirecting her attention to the laptop in front of her, Aspen smiled when she saw two different icons flashing on the screen. “Well, guys, it’s about time. I was about to give up on you showing up tonight. Just because I mistakenly believed you were one and the same in the beginning doesn’t mean I’m not on to your wily ways now. Since I happen to know you are on different continents tonight, you’ve just confirmed how close you are communicating in this little tag-team game of seduction you’re playing.”