Page 45 of About Yesterday (Foothills #5)
You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs
N o news might be considered good news in some circles, but Cole didn’t care to wait around to find out. First thing the next morning, Trace drove while he made call after call, every damn contact, hoping for a glimmer of something.
Nothing. Guillaume had gone to ground, so they couldn’t bring him in for questioning. Cole knew, from experience, that their entire operation was adept at maintaining secrecy. Hence the most intense job of his career.
They’d gotten an early start and pulled into Foothills by nine.
Trace could have been freaking out, maybe should have been, but she was steady.
Both hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the road, the rearview, listening to every word of his conversations, she breathed easy and appeared relaxed, or would to anyone that didn’t know her better. Calm, but she was on full alert.
“Nothing, huh?” Trace asked as she turned into their neighborhood. “He just disappeared?”
“That’s what they say.”
Cole scanned the house as they neared. Everything looked fine from the outside, except for the SUVs in the driveway.
Instead of obvious, black shiny and matching bodyguard black vehicles, there were three different makes, models, and years of vehicles parked as if they were just family in town for a visit. “Cavalry’s here.”
Trace pulled into the driveway, at the last-minute cranking the wheel and backing in.
Cole twitched a grin when he looked over at her, loving the hell out of seeing her in full focus, a natural.
She’d have been a badass in the field. No, he wouldn’t have guessed it, knowing her as the sweetheart with a wicked sense of humor and no interest in hurting anyone, but watching her instantly shift gears, she could absolutely kick ass.
The moment she shut off the engine, Cole hopped out and was greeted by an unfamiliar. No uniform for this type of guard duty, the woman was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and hiking boots, having done her homework to dress for the job.
“Cole?” she asked, extending a hand as he neared. “I’m Janessa Novak. I’m in charge of security for you and your family.”
Still holding her hand through the greeting, he didn’t release her. “Apologies if I’m not very trusting of strangers. Convince me.”
Janessa relaxed into a genuine smile and landed a knowing look. “The boss told me to tell you that he knows you aimed wide at the captain.”
“Oh, ouch,” he said, wincing as he remembered how well that argument had gone down. His boss had seen right through him, but he never should have assigned him a fucked-up job like that to begin with. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“He thought it might.” Janessa glanced at Trace as she came around the front of the car. “This must be Trace Perry?”
Trace came around and introduced herself to Janessa, exuding warmth and confidence with a steady handshake and genuine smile. “How are my parents?”
Janessa looked back and forth, and Cole winced at the disgusting assumption. “Trace is the daughter of my foster parents,” he mumbled, quickly adding, “we met in high school.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding fast. “Mr. Falk. I’m to let you know we aren’t leaving until we can guarantee your safety.
This team is the best of the best, discreet and experienced.
There are three others with me to guard the house, and I have a few others scattered around town. You won’t even know they’re around.”
“I’ll need to meet everyone you’ve brought in.”
“Naturally.”
Trace was already grabbing their bags from the car, and she swung hers over her shoulder as he took his, clicked the car alarm on, then slipped her hand in to join his. Together, they headed inside, and he hooked his hand on his backpack, giving Janessa a subtle wave as they headed inside.
The front door squealed its familiar squeak, and he dropped Trace’s hand before Jeremy and Ellen saw the gesture. He waited until Trace was safely inside, then did one last check before heading in.
The moment he turned around, Jeremy and Ellen were already on the move, rushing toward them. Ellen threw her arms around Trace and reached across, yanking him in and hugging them both together. A hugger like his wife and daughter, Jeremy joined the mass and breathed a heavy sigh.
“I’m so glad you made it home okay,” Jeremy said, finally backing away and looking at them both.
Terrible at keeping secrets, he seemed to be searching for signs of a relationship as much as he was checking that they were both unharmed.
Shit. Cole hadn’t wanted to spring it on them after the fact, so he’d had a long talk with Jeremy in between calls with work.
Awkward as hell, but he’d felt supported.
“Come on,” Ellen said, nodding to the kitchen table. “Fill us in.”
Too restless to sit, Cole moved to brew a fresh pot of coffee. A plate of fresh-baked cookies sat waiting on the counter, but not even his favorite treat could pique his appetite right now.
Trace sat with her parents, a reassuring presence for them when he couldn’t calm enough to sit.
While he dumped out the used grounds, still hot from the morning’s pot, he said, “As I said on the phone, a guy from my last job tracked me down, which shouldn’t have been possible. Now, we wait for his organization to make a move.”
“I don’t love the idea of waiting for someone to attack you again,” Ellen said, showering him with pitying looks as she came close, examining every nick and bruise.
“I want to get you out of the equation, but here, you’ve got some of the best security on the planet,” he said, patiently undergoing her sweet inspection.
Ellen lifted his hand and grimaced at the sight of his knuckles, cooing like someone else had caused it. As if it hadn’t been the other guy’s face to leave his knuckles looking like hell.
“I’m fine,” he said, gently drawing his hands away.
Ellen patted him on the cheek before returning to her seat.
One step at a time, he measured out fresh grounds and water, leaning against the counter as it brewed painfully slowly. “I, uh, didn’t mention on the phone, and I should have said before. I wasn’t just a bodyguard.”
He should have known better than to keep secrets from them. Slowly, without drama or emotion, he described what he’d been doing the last decade. The shiny heroic parts, and the parts that chiseled into his being and glared back at him in the mirror.
The silence had reigned loud enough, the story of his deeds taken long enough, that the coffee pot had long since sputtered its last breath. Hands in his pockets, he was afraid to even reach for mugs, knowing his hand would shake and give away how terrified he was right now.
While Ellen and Jeremy sat silently, watching him with curiosity and confusion, Trace stood and poured fresh cups. “Have some coffee,” she gently urged Cole, brushing her hand over his as he took the cup, holding his gaze in hers like a roaring fire on a snowy day.
“Thanks,” he murmured, watching her as he lifted his cup, steadier with her near.
“You are home,” she said firmly, softly. “And we’ll get through this.”
Jeremy seemed to realize how badly he needed to hear that and cleared his throat. “Exactly. We’ve weathered some bad storms together. We’ll fix this. Together.”
His stomach dropped, infinitely falling, heavier, faster as he took in the moment that shouldn’t be happening. “I tried to hide who I was, because I am ashamed.”
“Tell me three regrets, then six things you’re proud of,” Jeremy said, leaning back in his chair, pride unmistakable behind his stern expression.
Cole relented to a laugh and shook his head. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.”
Trace framed his jaw in her hand, quickly brushing her thumb over his bottom lip before pulling away and nodding for him to come to the table.
The next hour was rough as he did as he was told, his foster parents not letting him off the hook with simple answers.
Like a damn therapy session, but at least it wasn’t some stranger judging him.
Hell, the things he was proud of were almost harder to say out loud, but Ellen grinned at him as he did, encouraging his words with her warmth and attention.
Finally done, he gulped his coffee that had long since gone cold. The table had been silent through most of it. Their cheeks were stained red and streaky, sharing in his tears.
Ellen saw him scowl at his cold coffee and popped up to pour refills.
Cole leaned his elbows on the table, his shoulder nagging extra and making him adjust his posture, the reason for the renewed ache in it almost making him blush, more from lifting than punching. He stole a look at Trace at his side. “Your turn,” he said out loud.
“What?”
“You heard me. Three regrets and six things you’re proud of. Don’t make me do this alone.” He grinned over the rim of his mug, inhaling the steam as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“I think I prefer two truths and a lie,” she muttered, holding fast to his hand while she drew a long pull on her coffee with the other. “This might require cookies.”
“Oh,” Ellen popped back up happily returning with the overflowing plate. “I already brought a batch out to those lovely security guards, but I almost forgot to get the bread baking for this afternoon.” She clicked the oven to preheat and sat back down.
“Well? Come on,” Jeremy said, grinning over his mug at Trace. “I know you’ve got lots you haven’t told us. We’ve been patient these last few weeks, but I think it’s time to open up. Cole shared, now it’s your turn.”
“Oh, I’m not doing this if you all aren’t taking your turns, too.”
“We will,” Ellen said, nodding confidently, and Cole knew she was full of shit. As soon as it was her turn, she’d have some amazing, urgent excuse.