Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (15 page)

“I’m sure she’d love that. She said
she’s having
a helluva time right now.”

“Oh, no. Why?” Marissa met Courtney’s gaze
as she waited to hear what was wrong.

“According to her, that infamous writer’s
block has moved in permanently. If you ask me, I think she needs a man to come
in and spice things up for her. You know, give her some material for those
books she writes.”

Marissa laughed. “Court, she writes
thrillers, not romance.”

Did she mention that Ally Shaffaer was
the
Ally Shaffaer? Best-selling author
who moonlighted as a coffee shop owner?

“So? Maybe she needs to try something new.
Something with a little sex in it.”

“And maybe Clay can be her muse, huh?”
Marissa added, referring to one of Marissa’s older brothers. The man would deny
it to anyone and everyone, but he clearly had a thing for the
lovely
coffee shop owner.

“God, that’s brilliant!” Courtney exclaimed.
“See, I knew you were good for something.”

Marissa laughed, enjoying her best
friend’s teasing. It had been far too long since they’d had a chance to just
sit and chat. Most of their correspondence lately had been done via email, on a
secure server. Hell, Marissa hadn’t even been allowed to keep her cell phone
during the time she’d been stashed in one safe house after another.

Brushing off the thought, Marissa wiped
the crumbs from her hands before gingerly setting the muffin wrapper on the
side table beside her and reaching for her lukewarm coffee.

“You know I’m right,” Courtney rambled.
“Wouldn’t you rather be reading about sex? Then again, these are Ally’s books
we’re talking about.
And since she’s got a crush
on your brother, I definitely wouldn’t want to think about sex and any of my
own brothers, so maybe she should use, like, a fireman or something for her
muse.
Hell yes. Sexy, hot fireman sex. I’m gonna text
her my
idea.”

Marissa had to agree with Courtney there;
she definitely didn’t want to think about Ally and Clay together. Or hell, Clay
and anyone, for that matter.

Something loosened in Marissa’s chest as
she watched Courtney reach for her phone again. This was exactly what she’d
been missing over the last year.
The random
conversations
with her best friend. Courtney’s enthusiasm over her own
quirky ideas.
All
of it. And this morning,
it seemed to be just the thing Marissa needed to
clear
the lingering dread from her brain.

“Oh, hey, did you hear the news?” Courtney
asked.

Marissa’s gaze cut over to Courtney, her
friend’s eyes once again glued to her phone, her long, dark hair falling down
around her face as her slender fingers tapped out something on the screen.

“What news?”

“Danielle Davidson is coming back home.”

“Dani?” Marissa stared at Courtney,
waiting for her friend to meet her gaze. “Are you serious?” Marissa hadn’t
talked to Dani in… Wow.
It’d
been several
years. Two, maybe three. Ever since Dani had hauled ass out of town. “What does
Hunter think about that?”

“Let’s just say, if I were you, I wouldn’t
bring it up.”

Holy crap. It was hard to believe that
Dani was coming back. No wonder Hunter seemed even grumpier than usual. “Don’t
worry, he won’t hear a peep from me.”

Courtney’s phone chimed.

“Today is supposed to be my day off,” Courtney
snarled as she sat across from Marissa, dropping her phone in her lap after
briefly scanning the screen.

Marissa cocked an eyebrow, waiting for
Courtney to finish her thought.

“My dad just texted me. Said I need to
join them for an impromptu”—Courtney did air quotes with her fingers—“family
meeting.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

That got Marissa’s attention. “Here? As in
my parents’ house?”

That explained why she’d seen Trace and
Hunter arrive a short time ago.

“Looks that way,” Courtney told her as her
fingers flew over her phone.

“Has Trace told you anything? About what’s
going on?”

“Me? No. But that’s not unusual.” The
regret in Courtney’s tone was subtle yet unmistakable. “But think of it this
way … at least you’re home.”

Always the optimist, Courtney was.

Marissa knew she should be grateful for
the fact that, for the time being anyway, she was there with her family. It
would probably help if she didn’t feel like a prisoner in her own home.
Considering the estate was on lockdown—no one in and no one out with the
exception of a very limited few—Marissa had nothing to do except think.

What she really wanted was to be free of
all this shit. But this time, things were different. In all the months that
Marissa had been tucked away in isolation, never once had Trace personally come
to get her. Sniper 1 had always sent a secondary agent. Not Trace or one of his
brothers. Not even one of her own brothers. And for whatever reason—not since
meeting up with Ryan and Clay at the diner—no one was telling her anything.

Then again, they’d already managed to link
the series of events back to the Adorites, although Marissa had a sneaking
suspicion that they weren’t actually the ones after her. Could’ve been wishful
thinking, but she didn’t think so.

But if she had to guess, Ryan and Trace knew
something she didn’t. They just weren’t sharing the information with her.

At first, Marissa had tried to comply with
every wish, every
command,
because she
wasn’t ignorant
of
the danger. She’d
spent her life growing up with it thanks to who her father was. She knew that
they could all ultimately become targets. She wasn’t the only one who’d
experienced it firsthand, but for some reason, they treated this threat with
more sensitivity than, say, the time Ryan had come under fire many years ago.
Or the life-or-death situation Trace and Z had found themselves in. Or…

No, this wasn’t as
serious
as when Conner’s beautiful wife had been murdered in cold
blood a year and a half ago.

Marissa felt the burn of tears behind her
eyes and fought them. She didn’t want to cry anymore over the loss of one of
their own. But it helped to put things in perspective. Here she was, feeling
sorry for herself, when Conner and his daughter, Shelby, had suffered the most.

Sniper 1 Security was an elite security company
known for its covert operations and its frequent involvement with some pretty
nasty people. They worked on the right side of the law; however, she also knew
they straddled the line in a big way because they were the good guys.

Still, through the years, the owners of
Sniper 1, Bryce and Casper, had made some pretty powerful enemies. Her brothers
were even racking up points in the
not-very-popular
category these days, but they weren’t being whisked
off like
she was. Then again, if she were
entirely
honest, it had been her suggestion to be sent to a safe
house. In the beginning. No one seemed to remember that fact anymore, because
over time,
they’d stopped allowing her to make
decisions for herself, which was how she ended up in multiple safe houses in a
twelve-month period.

In a nutshell, they were treating her like
a child, and she was beginning to lose her patience.

When she’d become the target, Marissa had
been shocked into submission—mostly out of fear and dread after they’d lost
Tricia in such a horrific way. So, she had followed the rules and allowed the
men in her life to make the decisions in regard to her safety. And that was all
good and fine because she knew they were only interested in keeping her safe.

Only there was one thing missing: communication.

Hers
and
theirs
.

From the beginning, Marissa had kept her
mouth shut, wishing like hell she was wrong about who she suspected was after
her. And yes, Ryan had hit it right on the nose. From all angles, it looked as
though the Adorites were targeting her for whatever reason. Not that it made
sense. She wasn’t actually the one who’d spurred the raid that had temporarily
closed down several of their nightclubs. But she had supplied some of the
information.

God. And now Douglas was dead and it looked
as though she was going to be next.

The fact that Trace had
shown up this last time—not one of the lower-ranked agents—to take her away
from the danger that had gotten too close meant things had escalated to an
entirely new level.

Too bad Trace represented as much danger
to Marissa as any of Sniper 1’s enemies. Trace was the one man she wanted but
knew she’d never have. And with every minute they spent together, Marissa felt
that longing deep in her soul that she couldn’t seem to get past. The only thing
that kept her from pursuing her feelings for him was the danger that had become
an integral part of her everyday life.

Noticing that Courtney was staring back at
her, Marissa tried to sound casual as she asked, “What does your dad want to
talk about?”

“Work
,
obviously,
because he won’t text details about that.”

Marissa couldn’t help but feel a little
excited. If Casper was meeting with Courtney at Marissa’s parents’ house, it
probably meant it had to do with her. God, she hoped it was good news. Like maybe
last night’s intruder had led them to the douchebag who’d insisted on chasing
her all over the country. And if Trace
wasn’t
going to be the one to give her the news she wanted, maybe she could get it
from his father.

“Looks like the party’s gonna take place
in the kitchen,” Courtney informed her as she stood up, stretching her legs.
“Wanna come with me?”

“As long as you don’t think Trace will
tackle me when I try to leave my bedroom,” Marissa teased, earning another huge
grin from Courtney.

“I can’t make any promises there.”

Knowing Trace, anything was possible.
Still, Marissa smiled and said, “No worries. At this point, it’s a chance I’m
willing to take.”

Trace had known, the moment Casper mentioned
TJ was on his way, that whatever this meeting was about, it was serious.
Granted, everything going on at the moment was serious, what with Marissa being
the target of one of the biggest crime families in the great state of Texas.

Tanner Jonathan Trexler Sr., better known
as TJ, was not only Bryce’s younger brother, he was also an integral part of
Sniper 1 Security and had been ever since he’d shown an interest in his
brother’s company a solid twenty years earlier. Trace would be the first to
admit that TJ was probably the key reason they’d grown as significantly as they
had through the last decade. It was because of TJ that they’d ventured into
monitored security services, something that allowed a steady revenue stream.
Not something Trace was interested in due to the desk nature of those
particular jobs, but it had been a brilliant idea on TJ’s part. Since TJ
generally didn’t get in the middle of an op, his expected presence was making
Trace nervous.

Never being much on patience, after a
solid fifteen minutes had passed, Trace was ready to get on with it. Leaning
forward, resting his forearms on the table, he asked his father directly, “What’s
going on?”

“Wait a minute,” a booming voice called
from the front of the house. “Hold your damn horses.”

Trace twisted in his chair, his eyes tracking
TJ and the other two men now moving into the kitchen to join them. Following
close behind TJ was RT—the owner of the irritated voice—who dropped into a
chair closest to his father, on the other side of Colby. Z followed them, but
rather than taking a seat, he opted to lean against the wall behind Trace. Clay,
the last one to the party, made a beeline for the coffeepot, looking like a man
on a mission.

“You’re late,” Bryce informed the men now
sliding into the remaining chairs at the table.

“You gave us five fucking minutes to get
here,” Colby said by way of reprimand. “The office is fifteen minutes away.”

“Last I recall, you’re not all that
mindful of the speed limit. I’m sure you had plenty of time,” Casper said gruffly,
with a hint of amusement mixed in, obviously trying to keep the tension to a
minimum.

“Right. And if y’all had bothered to go
into
the office, we wouldn’t be sitting
here in Bryce’s kitchen,” Colby inserted.

“Not enough privacy in that place,” Bryce
joked, although the smile on his worn face looked forced.

That statement caught everyone’s attention,
but no one said a word. The comment had been said without heat, but Trace could
see real concern in Bryce’s midnight-blue eyes. Obviously he was still
convinced they had a mole.

RT glared at his father, running his hand
through his thick blond hair as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Is Courtney comin’ down?” Bryce inquired,
glancing around the table.

“She should be,” Casper said. “I asked her
to join us.”

“Well, this can’t wait any longer.” Bryce
looked from one man to another. “I wanted to talk about Marissa and the shit
that went down last night,” Bryce told them, planting his elbows on the table
as he made fleeting eye contact with everyone seated around him.

“My daughter was home less than
forty-eight hours when someone targeted her here. On my fucking front lawn.”

Trace’s back straightened.

“Who knew she was home?” Conner asked,
glancing around the table.

“The people in this room,” Bryce growled.

“Who else?”

Trace glanced at all the faces of the men
sitting at the table. That was a good question.

“We run a company, for Christ’s sake,”
Colby said. “Everyone in the damn office probably knew she was home.” His head
snapped around, and he stared at Trace as he followed with, “You find out who
the asshole from last night was?”

Trace sipped his coffee and glanced around
the table. “At this point, we know his name—William Waters—but other than that,
we don’t have anything more to go on.”

“Who does he work for?”

RT laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of
humor in it. “If he works for anyone, I’d be surprised.”

“What does that mean?” Colby inquired.

“The guy’s a fucking idiot,” RT explained.
“He hopped the wall, walked in through the gate, and we tackled him. He damn
near pissed his pants when he saw the dogs, and when the police showed up, his
lips were sewn up tight.”

“Fuck,” Colby grumbled, expressing Trace’s
exact sentiment when he’d learned as much from RT in the wee hours of the morning.

“What else do we know?” Hunter asked.

“We know that we’re twelve months in, one
attempted kidnapping, one successful kidnapping,
a
house blown to shit, a car chase, and now an intruder… But not a damn thing on
why these people are after Marissa,” Conner answered snidely.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clay shouted
angrily. “It’s been a fucking year and we still don’t know a damn thing? Trace?
Weren’t you the one tackling this?”

Not necessarily, no. But Trace opted to
answer anyway. “I know exactly how long it’s been,” Trace countered, trying to
hang on to his temper. He had to remind himself that everyone was stressed with
the situation, not just him. “It’s not like I can lure these bastards out of
hiding.”

“I thought that was the plan?” Hunter
asked seriously, looking around at the group.

From the get-go, Trace hadn’t agreed with
the plan to use Marissa as bait. He was pretty sure no one else had been all
that comfortable with the directive, either, but the majority had decided that
finding the bastards who’d been targeting her was their one and only priority.
They’d run out of options. As well as patience.

Trace wasn’t sure when they had finally
realized the threat wasn’t going to go away on its own, but even he would admit
they’d taken too damn long in making the decision.

Maybe it was after the second safe house
she’d been stashed in had been leaked, or possibly the third, when they’d
successfully abducted her. No matter what, it had taken too fucking long.

“And we’ve tried that, remember? They’re
not taking the bait,” Trace replied.

“Nothing from the guys who tried to run
you down in Connecticut?” It was TJ’s turn to interrogate.

“Nope. Two of ’em got away,” RT explained.

“But we know they’re workin’ for someone?”
TJ asked.

“Yeah,” RT said seriously, glancing at
Trace briefly. “In fact, we’re fairly certain that the Adorites are involved.”

The only sound at the table was a couple
of deep inhales.

“Why do you think that?” Conner asked, his
eyes narrowed on RT.

RT went on to explain about the article
and the information he’d managed to get from Marissa—which wasn’t much at all.
No one said a word as he spoke, and when he finished, the table remained
silent.

“It’s like she’s bein’ chased by a ghost,”
RT said conclusively.

Whoever it was, Trace was getting damned
tired of the games this asshole was playing.

“If I may,” Austin—the resident tech
genius—said, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “As of right now,
we’ve got nothing else. I ran down the license plate on the Malibu from Connecticut
but got nowhere. Stolen plates.”

“You trackin’ anything else?” Trace
questioned.

“Unfortunately, nothin’ else to go on,”
Austin stated in that laid-back drawl of his. “Since the dumb ass was caught
last night, I figure the rest of them’ll lie low for a while.”

Or maybe that had been the plan all along.
For William Waters to be captured. A distraction, maybe?

Had it not been for Austin and the shit
he’d uncovered a few weeks ago, the topic of the discussion they were having
now would’ve been entirely different. Likely it would’ve involved making burial
plans for one of their own. Again. The thought made Trace’s gut tighten.
Marissa’s younger brother had somehow managed to intercept the communication
regarding her Connecticut location—although he wasn’t able to trace it—as well
as the orders to either retrieve her or kill her, no particular preference.
 

“So what’s the plan now?” Casper asked,
looking over at Bryce, then at RT.

“I’m meeting with Max Adorite this
afternoon,” RT stated firmly.

What
the fuck?
“I’m going with you,” Trace insisted.

RT once again glanced at Trace but didn’t
respond, then turned his attention back to Casper and Bryce.

Casper glanced at Bryce once more. “You
plan to keep her here until we have somethin’ to go on?”

“Unless someone has a better idea,” Bryce
said, his head in his hands, sounding defeated. “Her mother is sick of us carting
her off, and I agree with her. I know Marissa has to be tired of it, too.”

“She is.” The soft but stern voice came
from behind them, and Trace shot a look over his shoulder to see Marissa
standing near the breakfast bar with Courtney.

Sighing, he looked back at Marissa’s
father. His gut told him this wasn’t going to go well.

□«»□«»□«»□

It wasn’t unusual to find a Kogan or a
Trexler camping out at one or the other’s house, but to find them—more than one,
at that—sitting in her parents’ kitchen that early in the morning meant Marissa
had been right. Whatever Casper had summoned Courtney for had been about her.
If it weren’t, they would’ve been at the Sniper 1 offices, not at the house.
Even then, Marissa had to wonder why they’d chosen the house instead.

As she stood waiting for one of them to
acknowledge her, Marissa glanced around at the men. Her brothers, her father,
her cousins Evan and Tanner, and her uncle TJ were there, along with Casper and
the Kogan boys. It looked as though Liz, Steph, and Emily had decided to sit
this one out. Not unusual, though. Since her mother, her Aunt Steph, and
Courtney’s mother managed the financial and public relations end of
things, that
was generally par for the course.

Marissa put her hands on her hips and pinned
her father with a glare, doing her best not to look at Trace. No matter how
hard she tried, when Trace Kogan was anywhere in the vicinity, her eyes always
tended to stray to him.

Not this time. She was too pissed to be
deterred.

“What’s goin’ on?” she questioned as she
stepped closer.

“Baby girl—” Bryce began, but Marissa
quickly cut him off.

“Don’t, Daddy. Don’t shut me out.”

“No one’s shutting you out,” Bryce said
adamantly, although he was trying to keep his voice down, she knew. “We’re just
talkin’ right now.”

She got that. Truly. But if anyone should
be included in this conversation, she was that person. Keeping her eyes locked
with his, she spoke her thoughts aloud,
“
Good, then I
can be included. I deserve to have a say in this.”

Marissa could tell that her statement
didn’t sit well with the rest of them, but at this point, she really didn’t
give a shit. They’d been making decisions for her for far too long. It was time
she was included in the plans.

Maybe the intensifying nightmares were
spurring her on, but whatever it was, Marissa felt forced to take a stand for
herself. Since she couldn’t control her subconscious, she figured it was high
time that she had a say in the matter. So stumbling upon the Sniper 1 group was
actually a blessing.

“And before anyone says anything more, I
just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere this time. No more safe
houses. Nor am I going to put my life on hold any longer,” she tacked on stubbornly.

Trace sighed loudly, his head hanging
between his shoulders as he stared down at the table.

“Do you have a problem with that?” she
asked him directly, but he didn’t bother to look up at her. Not that she had expected
him to. He’d stuck close to her since they’d arrived back in Texas, but he’d
done little to no talking during that time.

“Honey,” Casper began, “we only want
what’s best for you.”

Marissa glanced around the table at the
men she considered family. She’d grown up with most of them, and seeing them
look at her as though she might fare well in a mental facility didn’t do much
for her confidence.

Softening her stance and lowering her
voice, she said, “I understand that.”

And she did. She really did. It was the
only reason she’d agreed to let them hide her out for the last year. That and
she was trying to do her part to keep this nightmare away from her family,
partly because she had always had an idea of who might be behind it. Although
she hadn’t bothered to share the details with anyone else, simply because she
was scared to death of who they were dealing with. Selfish, yes, but she wasn’t
going to apologize for it.

She wasn’t an agent, didn’t actually care
to be part of the family business, but with her brothers and father involved in
the security company, she’d had to make certain decisions that she felt were
best. After all, there were some rather sensitive egos that she was dealing with—namely
every single one of the alpha males sitting at the table before her.