Page 3 of Forgiving His Past (Eagle’s Nest Securities #5)

Kaamisha was pulled from her unconscious state one microscopic step at a time. The first of her senses to return was her hearing as multiple hushed, male voices reached her from somewhere far away.

She tried listening to what was being said, but whoever it was spoke too low for her to make out their words. Using a mental checklist to avoid giving away her awakening presence, Kaamisha started her assessment at her head and moved down to her toes.

A dull ache filled her mind, reminding her of a time back in college when she’d unintentionally consumed too much wine. She couldn’t move her mouth for the tape that had apparently been placed across her lips, and her chest rose and fell with the steady movement of her breaths.

Kaamisha tried moving her arms but found the task surprisingly unattainable. Her fingers would move immediately on command, but her wrists felt as though they were being forcibly held in place.

The voices sounded again, and this time, she was aware enough to comprehend their muffled tones. The men who’d taken her—Donovan Braddock and his teammates—were in a room apart from the one she was in.

What she couldn’t possibly know for sure, however, was whether they’d left her in here alone or if one of the Eagle’s Nest men was standing guard. Silently watching and waiting for her consciousness to return.

Only one way to find out.

Ever so slightly, Kaamisha began peeling her eyelids apart, letting the low lighting of the room filter its way between her fluttering lashes. Her lap and bent forearms slowly came into focus.

With the next beat of her heart, she realized both of her wrists had been tightly bound with sections of thin nylon rope. Her ankles were hidden beneath the long material of her dress, but she didn’t have to see them to know the same rope had been used there, as well.

She didn’t see or feel any noticeable injuries, and the headache and fog filling her head was already beginning to vanish. Her mind grew clearer, and as the seconds ticked by, all of the pieces began falling right into place.

She’d been standing in the alley. Her knife had been pressed against Braddock’s throat. But then the highly trained operative had easily taken control of the situation, rendering her unconscious with a safe but effective pressure to the pulse point at her neck.

The last thing she’d told him was that he was the killer. The last words she remembered hearing were his deeply rumbled vow.

It will be a cold day in hell before I let you take another American life.

Not a life, but…another.

Funny that. She’d never taken a human life. American or otherwise. And yet, the man who had kidnapped rather than killed her believed the lie as if it were true.

Kaamisha drew in her first deep breath since waking. Her mind was finally clear enough to fully process the situation as a whole.

She was alive, which had been a fifty-fifty shot the moment she’d decided to put her knife to the SEAL’s throat. Lucky for her, the feeling in her gut had proven itself right, and Braddock hadn’t turned the knife on her in that dark alley.

He would have been justified in his actions had he decided to kill her right there, on the spot. The fact that he didn’t offered up hope that what she’d learned about him and his team was true.

They weren’t cold-blooded killers, and she was willing to bet her life they also weren’t the ones who’d slaughtered her mother in the middle of a street in Kandahar. But their team was there the day it happened, and though three years had passed, Kaamisha still needed answers.

While her approach was admittedly on the unconventional side, the plan she’d constructed had worked like a charm. She was alive, unharmed, and in the exact position she’d not only expected but had also hoped for. The only thing left to do was wait.

As she did, Kaamisha studied her surroundings. She was in a bedroom, as was evident by the queen-sized bed to her right. Carpet the color of deep orange, yellow, and various shades of red covered the floor beneath her bound feet.

Looking left, she noted a large wooden dresser with five long drawers for storage. Its dark finish was worn in many places indicating its long-standing use.

From where she sat, the top appeared barren, unlike the nightstand next to the bed. A single lamp placed on top of the small piece of furniture offered a dim, almost amber glow in the otherwise unlit room.

Kaamisha smiled inside—since the tape prevented her from being able to actually smile—feeling appreciative of the low lighting. It allowed her to see without feeling blinded or exacerbating the dull aching still present in her head.

“Fine. I’ll check.”

A deep voice sounded from the other room, pulling her attention away from the lamp. The chair she’d been tied to had been placed in the middle of the room, and Kaamisha sat facing the door that had been left closed.

Her eyes fell to the metal knob just as it started to turn. Her heart pumped harder inside her chest as a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation made its way through her veins.

The door began to open, and she straightened her spine. Fear had no place in this room. Not when she’d purposely put herself in a position to be taken. After all, if they’d wanted her dead…

A set of dark eyes met hers as Donovan Braddock stepped into the room. Kaamisha’s lungs froze momentarily as they held each other’s gazes.

Dark. Deadly. More than ready to kill.

That was the look staring back at her now. And the man it belonged to…

Positively mouthwatering.

He took a broad step forward, and then another…and another. Stopping directly in front of where she sat, he reached out and unceremoniously ripped the tape free from her face.

Kaamisha winced slightly but refused to call out from the stinging pain. Instead, she greeted him with a schooled expression and a smile.

“Hello, Donovan.” Her voice sounded a tad rough. “Nice to see you again.”

Rather than respond to her, he balled up the strip of silver tape and tossed it into a small trash can located on the floor next to the dresser.

“She’s awake.” He hollered back to his team from over one of his deliciously broad shoulders .

That was it. Nothing more was said to his men or to her. When the other four members of Eagle’s Nest Securities joined him, Kaamisha understood why.

He was waiting for them to begin.

“Quite the team player, aren’t you?” she challenged. “Funny. I pegged you as more the lone-wolf type.”

A muscle in the side of Donovan’s rugged jaw twitched. It was the only reaction he gave.

“Cut the crap, Kaamisha.” The man she recognized as Archer Nash spoke up next as he brought himself closer. “We know it was you, so why don’t you save us all some time and?—”

“Call me Kam.” She purposefully interrupted his little speech. “All my friends do.”

“We’re not your fucking friends,” Donovan growled. The look on his face was positively lethal.

Refusing to let down her calm and collected mask, Kaamisha simply released an exaggerated sigh. “Pity. I hear you can never have too many of those.”

“That supposed to be some sort of dig against the man you killed?” Another Eagle’s Nest operative shot forward.

Early thirties. Brown hair that was a bit longer on top. Pretty blue eyes that were looking back at her as if she were pure evil.

Chase Boyer.

She gave the young former SEAL a sad smile. “I would never disrespect your friend’s honor by making light of the fact that he is dead.”

The infuriated man on his heels and stormed back toward the door. He stopped just shy of exiting the room, running a hand through his highlighted hair before turning back around with a narrowed glare.

“You’re the reason he’s dead!” Chase’s handsome face twisted with heartfelt emotion .

She couldn’t blame them for hating her. Not when she knew of the many lies they’d been fed.

Kaamisha also knew, until she found a way to gain their trust, they’d never believe a word that came from her mouth. Which is why she’d put into motion the plan that had brought her here.

She needed time to convince them—face-to-face—that she wasn’t the person they were after. That she wasn’t the cold-hearted killer they’d been led to believe.

“It’s obvious you know who we are.” Logan Hayes spoke up next. “Which means you also know why you’re here.”

I’m here because this is where I wanted to be.

“I’m assuming you brought me here to torture me, either for information or for fun.” Her gaze slid back to Donovan. “Perhaps a little of both?”

“Personally, I’d rather put a bullet in your brain and be done with it,” he muttered. “But you have answers we need, so here we are.”

Quite the charmer, that one.

“Information it is.” Kaamisha held the man’s infuriated stare. “You know, it would have been much easier for us both had you simply gotten up from your little table in the corner to come talk to me while I waited in line for my drink.”

In reality, that would have altered the very plan that had offered the opportunity to speak to them without fear of prying eyes. But she couldn’t show all her cards right away. Not until she’d confirmed what she suspected to be the truth.

A low curse came from the operative who’d spun away from her moments ago, his handsome face still etched with anger. Donovan spoke up again before anyone else had the chance.

“You knew I was there,” he rumbled low.

It was a statement, rather than a question.

“You’ve been going there for the past three nights. And since you and your friends are so very far from home, and as you so delicately pointed out, you’d rather put a bullet into my head, I assume you went to the coffee shop looking for me.”

“Found you, didn’t I?”

She smiled. “More like I found you.” To his teammates, she added, “I may not know what sort of drugs you forced into my veins, but I do remember everything right up to the moment the needle pierced my skin.” Her eyes found Donovan’s again.

“My favorite part was when I got the drop on you and put the blade of my knife to your?—”