Watching From The Shadows: Trident Security Book 5 (2 page)

“Fuck that shit.”

The big man’s gaze went to the rear entrance of the house and Marco slapped him on the shoulder before taking the axes from him. “So, you gonna man-up and tell her how you feel?”

Curt nodded, his eyes never leaving the backdoor. “Damn fucking straight.”

“About fucking time.” He watched his friend make a beeline for the house. Even though a wife and kids wasn’t in Marco’s future, he had no problem with his buddies having them. But settling down was something he was never going to do. He’d rather cut off his left nut than walk down the aisle and have a bunch of rug-rats. No way…no fucking how.

* * *

Taking a sip of his beer, Marco relaxed in a sitting area near the bar of the BDSM club, The Covenant, which was located on the same property as Trident Security. One couldn’t ask for more than having his work and play areas within forty yards of each other, especially when he enjoyed both. He listened to his bosses, Ian and Devon Sawyer, discuss the meeting the former had taken part in on Friday at the Pentagon in Washington D.C. about their new government contract. Their other teammate, Jake Donovan, had met Boss-man there and then flown back to San Diego to his temporary home. Jake was currently in charge of establishing Trident Security’s west coast facility there and was living with his boyfriend/submissive, Nick Sawyer, who happened to be the bosses’ younger brother. Nick had just under two years left in his own Navy SEAL career, stationed in California, so the set-up had worked out perfectly for everyone.

At the feet of the Dominant Sawyers, their submissive women sat on pillows, chatting quietly in their club lingerie. Kristen was Devon’s wife, while Angie Beckett and Ian were in the process of planning their late spring wedding. Between Ian, Devon, Jake, and their other teammate, Ben ‘Boomer Michaelson, the men of Trident were dropping like flies as they had all met the loves of their lives over the past sixteen months. The only two men left on Trident’s Alpha team who were single were Brody and Marco, and the others were betting on who was going down next. Marco felt sorry for anyone who’d bet on him because it was a losing wager.

He’d gotten home a few hours ago from Iowa and instead of just crashing on the couch in front of his big screen TV like he wanted to, he’d ended up here for Devon’s birthday. It wasn’t exactly a party with presents and all, just another excuse for them all to get together for a few drinks and maybe some play down in the pit. While the main second floor of the club housed the bar, offices, and a fetish store, the pit, as it was dubbed by the members, was the huge recreational room downstairs. It was filled with a wide assortment of BDSM equipment in both public areas and private rooms.

Even though it was still early in the evening—a little after eight-thirty—the club was bustling with activity. On Sunday nights, the place usually emptied out by eleven, so people could get some sleep before starting their work week the next day. From their pillows, Kristen and Angie began giggling uncontrollably at something near the bar and the three men turned their attention in the same direction.

“Ho-ly shit!” Devon shook his head in stunned amusement, while Marco almost fell out of his chair as laughter spilled forth and tears filled his gunmetal blue eyes. Speaking of a losing wager.

Ian’s head dropped back as he groaned loudly. “Oh, crap. Is he fucking kidding me?” He glanced at Marco. “Let me guess, the Giants beat the Cowboys in today’s football game.”

“Yup.” That was the only word he could get out as he held his six-pack abs and gasped for air.

They all stared as Brody strode toward them, good-naturedly chuckling at members’ comments along the way. Dressed in his usual snug, faded jeans, T-shirt, and cowboy boots, the only thing that was out of place was the fact he had his button fly undone. And instead of his junk hanging out, it was covered by an elephant trunk and ears—the thong the loser had to wear in the bet he and Marco had made. Every few steps, the well-built geek would stop and wiggle his hips at some of the female submissives, causing the impressively filled trunk to flap around. By the time he reached his teammates the entire bar area had erupted into fits of hysterical laughter.

Stopping a few feet from Marco, his best friend pointed a finger at him, unable to hide his grin. The man had no shame. “Just fucking wait, asshole. I can’t wait until the next time you lose a bet.”

Although he wasn’t too worried, Marco knew the guy was already planning his revenge and he might not put it off until the next wager. “
Um
, if I remember correctly, you were the one who swore the Cowboys would win and the junk trunk was your idea.” He wiped away a tear which threatened to escape and turned his head toward Kristen and Angie. “I don’t know, ladies. I think I would’ve filled it out better than Egghead. What do you think?”

Before either of the women had a chance to respond, one of the submissive waitresses, Cassandra, hurried over, wearing an expression of alarm. She did a double take at Brody’s crotch, but then directed her words to Marco. “Sir, Master Ben is in the lobby on a phone call and he told me to come get you. He said it’s an emergency.”

The mirth died quickly as he leaped to his feet followed by Ian and Devon. Brody tucked the elephant in his pants and was a step behind Marco’s heels as he ran toward the lobby. Cell phones were not allowed out on the club floor, and all calls and texts had to be taken outside—a rule which was strictly enforced. His initial thought was something had happened to Boomer’s girlfriend, Kat Maier, but she was standing by her Dom’s side with worry on her pretty face as the group hurried up to them.

“Hang on a sec.” Boomer pulled the cell phone away from his face and held it out for Marco. “You remember Jake’s ex on Clearwater P.D.? Drew Murdock? He’s at a crime scene and your business card was there. When he couldn’t get a hold of you, he called Trident’s main number, and I’m on-call, so it got bounced to me.”

While he’d never met the cop Jake had dated for a few weeks over a year ago, he knew the name. Marco took the phone and brought it to his ear. “DeAngelis.”

The officer had obviously heard Boomer tell him who was on the phone. “Hey. Sorry to call like this, but I’m at a house over here in Clearwater with a home invasion and I’ve got an unconscious assault victim. We haven’t been able to find her cell phone or a list of emergency contacts. She just moved into the neighborhood and the house is trashed, but I found your business card on her refrigerator. Does the name Millicent Williams ring a bell?”

While his teammates and their women waited for details, Marco shook his head at the unfamiliar name. “Millicent? I have no idea who that is.” But something niggled his brain.

Over the phone, he could hear the squawks of police radios and the voices of other officers working the scene. “Hang on a sec. There’s a diploma on the wall here in the home office. Her full name is Millicent Harper Williams.”

The blood drained from Marco’s face and his gut clenched as he finally made the connection to his deceased sister’s best friend—the woman who invaded his dreams since their one night together thirteen months ago. “Harper? Harper Williams was assaulted?” Around him, the men and Kristen’s eyes flashed wide as they recognized the name as well, but Marco held up his hand to stop anyone from asking questions he didn’t have any answers to yet. “Fuck. Is she all right?”

“She got knocked on the head pretty bad. The paramedics are on their way with her to Largo Medical Center. She’s still unconscious. And DeAngelis…the main reason I’m calling is…her baby is missing.”

A roar equivalent to jet engine surged through his head, and a wave of shock and confusion struck him hard. “Baby? What fucking baby?”

C
HAPTER 2

Thirteen Months Earlier

“Are you okay?”

God, he was getting fucking sick of that fucking question. No, he wasn’t fucking okay—he’d just buried his sister two hours ago—the only blood relative who’d ever been important to him. And now she was gone.

Marco regarded the well-meaning mourner, whose name he couldn’t remember. The guy was one of the teachers Nina had worked with, and while the entire PTA had supported her through the fourteen-month battle against inoperable brain cancer, Marco couldn’t remember who was who. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for coming.”

Shaking the guy’s outstretched hand, he then stepped away before more redundant platitudes could be spoken. The day couldn’t go any slower if it tried. He knew wakes, funerals, and the after gatherings were for the living to remember the dead and to be there for the surviving family, but he was Nina’s only survivor—if he didn’t count Harper, that is. His sister’s best friend had been by her side, and his, throughout the entire ordeal—the woman had been a god-send.

His gaze scanned the dining area of Donovan’s Pub where the mourners had come to eat and drink a toast to his sister’s memory. Jake’s brother, Mike, had offered the place for the repast gathering, and between the two men, they’d told Marco the expenses were covered. While he had the finances to pay for it, he appreciated the offer, since it was one less thing he had to deal with. He also knew better than to argue with one of his teammates. Jake and the four other team members may not be his blood brothers, but they were brothers of his heart, and he would do anything for them—same as they would for him. Besides, any debts they racked up amongst each other were usually paid in full, and then some, at a future point in time. They’d all pretty much lost count over the years.

Sidling up to the bar, he stepped into an empty space between Brody and Devon. The former clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Another half hour and everyone will be done eating. We’ll start subtly moving people out the door. Then you can either get out of here or sit and get ass-faced drunk. Your decision, and we’ve got your six.”

Damn, he loved these guys. That was the thing about his team—they could read each other like an open book and didn’t ask what needed to be done…they just did it. He accepted the bottle of Dos Equis the bartender handed him and took a swig of the cold brew. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys these last few months.”

The two men waved off his gratitude—his thanks didn’t need to be verbalized. They knew it existed and that was enough for them. He turned when Jenn Mullins touched his arm.

“Uncle Marco, did you get enough to eat? I packed up some of the leftovers for you to take home in case you get hungry later and don’t want to cook. I packed one for Harper, too—I don’t think she really ate anything.”

He pulled the pretty, blonde twenty-year-old into his arms and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Baby-girl. You think of everything, don’t you? I’m good for now, but I’m sure I’ll be grateful for whatever you packed up when my stomach starts growling later.”

Jenn wasn’t blood-related to any of the original Trident six-man team, but she called all of them ‘uncle’ and they considered her to be their niece. After her parents had been murdered eight months ago, she’d come to live with her godfather, Ian, who’d been her father’s best friend since basic training. The surrogate uncles had all been on the same SEAL Team Four as Jeff Mullins and had watched his daughter grow from a tiny infant into a beautiful, young woman. Now, they made sure she was surrounded by people who loved her and would do their best to protect and take care of her. She was slowly overcoming her grief, with her bubbly personality resurfacing once again. When she wasn’t in class at the University of Tampa, she waitressed part-time here at the pub, but Mike Donovan had given her the day off to attend the funeral.

Jenn stepped away and another well-wisher took her place, shaking his hand and telling him how much Nina was going to be missed—yeah, he knew that more than anyone. His sister had been the one constant, shining star in his life. She’d been born to their flighty mother, thirty-two years ago, when Marco was two. At least, Teresa DeAngelis knew who her daughter’s father was, even though he’d been a deadbeat dad who’d left New York for parts unknown before the little girl was born. From what Marco knew, his own sperm donor hadn’t even taken his pants off and ended up giving the nineteen-year-old one-night-stand a false name and number—along with a baby on the way.

Since he was born, life had been a struggle for Marco, but he did everything he could to make sure his little sister was happy and felt loved, even though he was the only one providing it. As a young mother, Teresa was more interested in going out and having fun with her friends on Staten Island, NY, than taking care of two small children, who were more trouble and work than she’d expected. By the time Marco was four, she was heavily into drugs, and two days shy of his eighth birthday, she was dead of an accidental overdose. Marco had discovered her cold body on the kitchen floor of their run-down one-bedroom apartment when he woke up early that morning. Somehow Nina had slept through the chaos after the police and paramedics arrived, so she’d been spared the memory of their mother’s lifeless body lying on the cracked linoleum floor, with a needle sticking out of her arm.

From then on, they’d lived with their grandmother, but life with her wasn’t much better. Instead of drugs, Rose DeAngelis’ vices included alcohol, cigarettes, lottery tickets, and hoarding. Marco had tried to keep the place from getting too overwhelmed with junk, throwing things out when the woman wasn’t home, but sometimes it was a losing battle. When Nina and he had returned to New York several years ago, following the woman’s death, they’d ended up renting a huge dumpster just to get rid of everything. There had been very little of value among the piles of useless keepsakes.

Someone else put a hand on his shoulder and Marco pivoted to accept more condolences. He groaned inwardly when he saw who it was and, over Paula Leighton’s short head, he noticed Brody roll his eyes at the woman. Paula had been the secretary at Trident Security for a few months before she’d been caught in the business’ restricted access area called the war-room. The room was actually Brody’s office, filled with computers which were used by the geek to gather intel, including classified information. Aside from the data Trident received legally from the U.S. government in reference to their mutual contracts, Brody was a world-class hacker, and Paula had made the mistake of snooping in his domain. Her curiosity had gotten her fired with a paltry severance check. Thankfully, she hadn’t been able to access anything she wasn’t supposed to see.