Page 2
CHAPTER 2
“ C ap, you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Ranger fastened the button on his long-sleeved shirt as he asked.
“Positive. I’m not in the mood for the clubs tonight. I’ll grab some dinner and then head back here.”
Rip walked out as he spoke. Their suite at the Pacific Crown Hotel in Bangkok had three rooms and five beds. Located on Sukhumvit Road, the hotel was a modern mix of contemporary design with nods to Thai culture. They stayed here whenever they needed to be in Bangkok. Tomorrow, they’d start a new mission in conjunction with the CIA, but they’d learn the details of that assignment later. The team was enjoying the local nightlife and a good meal tonight.
“Stay out of the red-light districts,” Deacon said as he poured a beer into a frosted mug.
Bandit groaned. “God, yes, I already told them that. I don’t have penicillin with me.”
Ace snickered. “We’re heading to the clubs. Probably Onyx. I want to remember what people our age do for fun. Don’t wait up for us, Cap.”
“I have zero intention of waiting up for you.” Deacon lifted his beer to his team. “Enjoy.”
“We will.” Ranger closed the door behind them with a wave goodbye. It was good to see his team unwind. They’d had back-to-back missions, so the two weeks of downtime in Manila and today in Bangkok were needed and appreciated. His guys needed time to blow off steam without him keeping tabs on them, and he didn’t worry about them. They were all adults—most of the time.
His phone vibrated, and he smiled, knowing who it was without looking. He pulled out his phone and answered it. “Stuck in some hellhole again and need rescuing?”
His brother Ronan barked out a laugh. “Screw you. You didn’t have to show up. We would have managed.”
It was Deacon’s turn to laugh. “Managed to die in a firefight, maybe.”
“Well, you were useful, at least. Jacob says you’re working on a mission with the CIA. Trust but verify.”
“Always.” Deacon took a sip of his beer. “What’s new with you?”
“I’ve decided to give Guardian my resignation.”
Deacon choked on his beer. Coughing, he sputtered, “Say what?” and wiped at his face as soon as his beer hit the counter. Suds slopped from the top of the bottle, but he disregarded the mess.
Ronan snickered. “Don’t have a heart attack. I’m resigning as team leader. I’m not leaving Guardian. I’m moving up to HQ. I gave them a year. By then, Fleur will be well settled in her position, and hopefully, she’ll believe I’m in this for the long run. She knows I love her, but how we got together has her gun shy.”
Deacon rolled his eyes and slumped back. “No pun intended, right?”
“Actually, no, but I’m good like that,” Ronan shot back at him.
“I’m glad you found her.” Deacon sighed. “Someday, I’ll find the woman who can put up with me.”
“You mean being in the field?”
“Yeah. I just can’t see myself sitting behind a desk,” Deacon admitted. “But I’ll admit there’s something missing.” And ever since he saw his brother fall in love with Fleur, he’d been thinking it was what Ronan had found. But he’d never admit that part. Instead, he changed the subject. “How did Charley and Gabby take it?”
“Gabby was all business, congratulated me on growing up, then ducked out for a meeting. Charley was … well, Charley. She wanted to draw lines around authority and discuss how she and Gabby ran the company with Jason.”
“And Jason?”
“He told Charley that no one was usurping her authority, welcomed me to the staff, and then advised me to cut ties now and walk away from the team instead of dragging out the goodbye. I don’t agree. Wolf is still out on medical leave. Honestly, we don’t know if he’ll be cleared to return. That hit to the head was serious. We have an FNG who’s good, but he’s temporary and knows it. I’m not leaving Wraith a man down or with an untested element while needing to fill another spot. We’ll get the new guy up to speed and then start looking for someone to replace me. Wraith is ready now to lead the team, and for the next year, I’ll let him do that while being there if he needs me.”
“He won’t. That man grew up hard and fast. I can’t imagine what he and Ranger went through. Both of them have ghosts from the Siege.” Ranger and Wraith’s moms had been kidnapped during a maniac’s coordinated attempt to destroy Guardian headquarters and the training annex in South Dakota. It was more of a war than a siege, but Guardian had prevailed and pulled themselves out of the ashes.
“We have experience with growing up hard and fast. Charley and Gabby, too.” Ronan’s voice became soft. “Everyone has ghosts of the past floating in their closets.”
“Truth.” Deacon nodded even though his brother couldn’t see him. “Have you ever regretted the training we went through to become team members and leaders?” It had been grueling. Special Forces training, marksmanship, leadership, weapons, tactics, and hand-to-hand combat were all condensed for them. Their father had ensured they received the best training available from the top experts in each field, both privately and through Guardian. As tough as it had been, it had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. He’d found his place in the world.
“No, not at all. If I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have met Fleur. But I know you love the field more than I do.”
“Congratulations on growing up. Forgive me if I don’t follow in your footsteps anytime soon.”
Ronan chuckled. “We’ve always blazed separate trails, haven’t we? Which is another reason I called. I got a bad feeling in my gut, and I’m not up for a mission. We’re back in the States for a month. That means …”
“Yeah, I know. I feel it, too. Something’s coming.”
“And you start a mission tomorrow,” Ronan said. “Don’t discount it, D. Keep your guard up. When we both get this feeling, shit gets spicy, real fast.”
“Don’t I know it?” There’d been too many times they’d both gotten the feeling, and then all hell had busted loose. They didn’t discount the twinning thing. It was real, at least as far as they were concerned.
“If you need me, one text or a call from Click, and we’re heading your way.”
“Appreciate it. You know I’ll send word if I need it. Dead isn’t a good look on anyone.”
“Too right. Take care of yourself, D.”
“Promise. You take care of yourself, and tell Fleur I said hello.”
“Will do. Love you, man.”
“Love you, too.” Deacon hung up, drained the last of his beer, and headed out into the humid Bangkok night. The chaotic rhythm of Sukhumvit Road buzzed in the distance. Tucked away in a narrow alley, the Golden Orchid Hotel stood as a serene escape from the city’s relentless energy. Its lantern-lit entrance glowed softly, and he could already taste the rich, spicy flavors of Jade Lotus, the hotel’s restaurant. The green curry, som tum, and pad Thai had been calling to him ever since his last visit.
The restaurant was hushed this late, a stark contrast to the clamor of the tourist-filled streets. The dim lighting reflected off deep green walls adorned with black-and-white photographs of old Bangkok—images of bustling canals, wooden markets, and gilded temples. Deacon let his fingers graze the edge of a frame, tracing the evolution of a city he barely recognized. His thoughts drifted to the changes he’d seen in himself over the years. After finishing his meal, he lingered over his beer, enjoying the quiet.
The faint clink of glass drew his attention. He turned, and that was when he saw her.
At first, she was just movement—a figure slipping through the doorway—but then the details clicked into focus. A woman stood at the bar, her posture casual yet striking. Her hair, dark red with hints of copper, shimmered in the lantern light. She wore jeans and a simple white shirt, the fabric clinging in just the right places to highlight a toned, athletic frame. She wasn’t trying to turn heads, but she did—his, for certain.
Deacon found himself leaning forward, caught in the subtle grace of her movements. Her skin glowed naturally, untouched by makeup, and her confident stance told a story he wanted to read. She exchanged quiet words with the bartender, her brow furrowing slightly when he gestured to the drink menu. A quiet laugh bubbled in Deacon's chest as he realized what was happening: a language barrier.
He stood, his body moving before his mind had fully caught up, and crossed the room. As he approached, he noticed the delicate curve of her neck, the way her fingers drummed lightly on the bar, a small tell of impatience. Her eyes lifted as he neared, and when their gazes met, it hit him like a punch to the chest. Her eyes were a deep, velvety brown, framed by lashes that gleamed auburn under the light. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
“Do you know what you ordered?” he asked, his voice low and warm.
She turned to him fully, and a smile spread across her face, slow and dazzling. “Actually, no, I don’t,” she admitted, her voice rich with humor and a hint of self-deprecation. The sound of it settled over him like a balm, soothing yet electric.
“Do you like gin?” he asked, nodding toward the cocktail shaker.
“Honestly?” Her lips quirked. “I can’t remember having gin before. I usually stick to wine. Chardonnay is my favorite, but tomorrow will be a hell of a day, so I thought I’d mix things up.”
Deacon chuckled, leaning a little closer, catching a faint trace of her scent—something clean and citrusy. “Would you like me to intervene?”
Her gaze flicked to him, dipping briefly to his chest, then back up, an assessment that left a small, teasing smile on her lips. “Do you speak Thai?”
“I do,” he said, his grin widening.
“Then, by all means,” she said, gesturing grandly to the bartender.
But the drink had already arrived—a violet concoction garnished with a fruit skewer. She sniffed it tentatively before taking a sip. Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She blinked, then took another sip. “Oh, this is nice. Fruity but not too sweet.”
Deacon smirked. “And made with two very generous shots of gin.”
She shrugged, taking another sip. “I can’t taste it, and since I’m staying here at the hotel, the drive home isn’t exactly a concern.”
His chest warmed at her easy humor. “Care to share a booth?” He gestured to the cozy seats along the wall.
Her gaze held his for a beat longer than necessary, a flicker of challenge dancing in her expression. Then, she extended her hand. “I don’t share booths with strangers. My name’s Echo.”
He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unique name, then took her hand in his, his grip firm but careful. “Deacon.” Her grip lingered, her fingers warm against his. “You have an unusual name,” he teased, still holding her gaze.
“Parents are sixties throwbacks,” she said with a laugh, her eyes sparkling. “What’s your excuse?”
He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “Boomer parents, military roots, and I’m named after a family friend. I’m here for business.” He motioned to the booth again, and that time, she nodded.
They slid into the booth across from each other, the quiet hum of the restaurant wrapping around them like a cocoon. For the first time in what felt like ages, Deacon felt the walls he kept so carefully constructed around himself ease just a little.
Echo tilted her head, her lips curving into a smirk that hinted at curiosity. “What kind of business do you do, Deacon?”
He hesitated for half a beat, measuring his words. “I work with a company that troubleshoots problems for other organizations. I’m kind of a fixer. They send my team and me in when they want things resolved quickly.” His voice was steady, but he was aware of the flicker of her gaze, sharp and assessing. “And you?” he asked, the lantern light casting shadows across the polished wood table.
Her fingers lightly circling the base of her drink. “The easiest way to explain it is to say I work in IT. I’m here to clean up a mess someone else caused with one of the systems I designed way back in the day.” She shrugged, but there was a hint of weariness in the gesture, a shadow of frustration that piqued his curiosity. “I’m not out in the field often anymore.”
“By choice?” He leaned back against the cushion, one arm draped along the edge of the booth. The casual pose belied his sharp attention to every detail—how her hair slipped over her shoulder when she moved, the quick flicker of her lashes as she considered her answer.
“Well, yes and no.” Her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass before she pushed her hair back, revealing the elegant line of her neck. The silky strands fell in a cascade down her back, catching the golden light. “After a long stint working in my field, they promoted me to a nice office with a view. I’m not going to lie—I don’t hate it. But I’m both excited and pissed that I’m here.”
“In Bangkok or the field?” he asked, his lips quirking.
Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement as she took a slow sip of her drink. Then, she winked. “Yes.”
Deacon chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing further. “Ever been to Thailand before?”
“Nope. I was told most people speak at least a little English.” She glanced toward the bartender, her lips twitching into a grin. “He’s the first who hasn’t.”
“And yet you ended up with a drink you like,” he pointed out, nodding toward her half-empty cocktail.
She laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “I did. Now, I just have to figure out what it is so I can ask for it back in the States.” She took another sip of the purple concoction.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, his brow arching slightly.
“What?” She blinked as though surprised by the question. “Oh, yeah, on the plane.”
“Not good enough.” His tone was firm but playful. “I saw how much alcohol he poured into that drink.” He raised a hand, and the waitress appeared almost instantly. Deacon ordered three appetizers without hesitation, his confident manner drawing Echo’s curious gaze.
When the waitress left, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “How did you learn Thai?”
“It wasn’t as difficult as you’d think after I mastered Mandarin.” He couldn’t help the grin that spread as her jaw dropped slightly.
“Two languages?” she asked, incredulous.
He shook his head.
Her eyes widened. “Three?”
“Five,” he admitted, a touch of pride in his tone. “French, English, Mandarin, Thai, and Japanese.” He wasn’t going to tell her he was working on Vietnamese.
“Holy hell,” she said, leaning back in her seat, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “I can’t even say I mastered English. Most of the time, I butcher it.”
He laughed, the rich sound filling the space between them. When the laughter settled, she asked, “What exactly do you troubleshoot?”
His shrug was almost imperceptible. “Proprietary information,” he said smoothly. “I’m afraid I can’t get into specifics.”
“Oh, I get that.” She nodded, her expression shifting, softening her features. “So, where were you born?”
“Colorado,” he said, watching her reaction. “You?”
“Montana. Bozeman. Where in Colorado?”
“We claim Denver because my father has a spread in the Rockies. North of the city, way up in the mountains.” His tone softened as he spoke, memories of home flashing briefly in his mind. “Mom home-schooled us until we graduated high school. Then I went to college with my twin brother.”
Her brows rose. “A twin, huh? Another man like you?”
“Ronan is definitely a man.” He chuckled. “The guy is as macho as you can get.”
She lifted both eyebrows and shook her head. “More than you? I find that hard to believe. Where did you go to college? In Colorado?”
He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yep. You?”
“Bozeman High School,” she said, nostalgia creeping into her voice. “Then MIT after that.”
His whistle was low, appreciative. “MIT? Smarter than the average bear, huh?”
“Well, I don’t know about that, Yogi,” she shot back with a chuckle, her wit quick and effortless. “I graduated and accepted a commission in the Army because ROTC paid for most of my tuition and such. I played that game for eight years before I got out.”
“And now, you’re in IT for one of those Beltway companies,” he said, piecing together her story.
“Good guess.” She grinned, leaning back. “Virginia. They love scooping up former military, don’t they?”
“They do,” he said, nodding. “I served in the Air Force. Left after my commitment was up and never looked back. It was a great start …”
Her eyes rolled, playful exasperation evident. “I know. The military had way too many limitations for me.”
“They’re called regulations,” he teased, his grin widening when she made a face at him. So, she was a rule-breaker. Interesting.
“Yeah, those things. Hated them.” She laughed again, and it warmed the space between them.
When the food arrived, fragrant steam curled up from the plates, filling the air with an enticing medley of spices. Deacon ordered another round of drinks, and Echo eyed him with mock exasperation though her lips twitched in amusement.
When she took her first bite, her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a low, almost indecent moan. “My goodness, this is amazing.”
Deacon couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. “You should try the curry here. It’s the best in the city—that’s why I came tonight.”
Her eyes popped open wide with surprise. “Wait. You’re not staying here? You actually came here just for the food?”
He grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I did. My team went to the clubs, but I prefer the quiet and good food.” His voice softened. “I love what I do, and the people I work with are like family, but sometimes, I need a bit of distance.”
She paused her chopsticks poised mid-air and regarded him thoughtfully before placing a dumpling in her mouth. After a moment, she set the sticks down and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I think I’m the opposite. I spend so much time alone that when I get a chance to do something social, I jump in with both feet.”
“Time alone?” The woman across from him was vivacious and witty. Why in the hell did she spend so much time alone?
Echo nodded. “Perks of the job. I work on things I can’t discuss, and my job puts me in really boring company.” She dropped her head back and looked at the ceiling before righting herself. “And really old company. Man, I can clearly see myself in thirty years because they were like me once, but they’re still doing the same thing, albeit in bigger and better offices.” She shook her head. “So, yeah, both feet. Big splash.” She lifted her purple cocktail, the rim glistening under the low lantern light, and tilted her head. Her voice dipped to a husky murmur, sending a shiver down his spine. “Do you want your distance after I finish?”
Deacon met her gaze, his smile slow and deliberate. “Distance isn’t what I was thinking about.” He took a measured sip of his beer, letting his words hang between them.
Her smile grew, lighting up her face as her foot brushed against his leg. The movement was subtle but unmistakable. His eyes seemed to widen at her own boldness, and she laughed softly, taking another sip of her drink. “That’s good,” she said, her tone turning playful. “I wasn’t thinking about distance either.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking with hers. “Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, low and inviting. “What were you thinking?”
She picked up her chopsticks and pointed them at him like a playful weapon. “Kissing you.”
Her words hit him like a jolt, his heart skipping a beat. He covered his reaction by taking another sip of his beer, his grin deepening. “That idea has crossed my mind several times.” Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip, and his eyes followed the motion, mesmerized. She smiled knowingly, leaning forward just enough to close some of the space between them. “You’re a tease,” he accused, his voice tinged with amusement.
She popped a dumpling into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed before wagging her chopsticks at him. “Wrong. Teases tempt but never deliver. Tonight, I will deliver.”
His smile turned predatory, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “And you plan on delivering on that specific promise?”
She leaned back, her expression calm, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That one and many, many more. If you’re willing.”
Deacon exhaled a soft laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he teased. “You might bring me upstairs and take advantage of me.”
Echo threw her head back, laughing, and the sound was like a spark, igniting something deep in his chest. She drained the last of her drink, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink. “I prefer willing partners. I’m not into tying men to bed frames—or being tied myself, for that matter.”
“I think we’re on the same page,” he said, his tone more serious now. There was a spark of honesty in his gaze as he added, “For me, it’s all about the connection. I’m not the kind of guy who can …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Let’s just say I don’t usually do one-night stands for the sake of it.”
Her expression softened, and she reached across the table, brushing her fingers over his briefly. “Good. Because I’m not looking for that either—not without a spark. And you,” she said, her voice dropping lower, “are all spark.”
He chuckled, the tension between them sizzling like electricity in the air.
“You haven’t said you’re willing,” she added, leaning back and watching him closely. “And I won’t take advantage of a stranger—even a sexy-as-sin stranger. Consent is mandatory.”
“Consent is given,” he replied. “Freely and happily.”
Her smile was brilliant, and she raised her glass in a mock toast before setting it down. “Good. Then I’m going to finish this fabulous food, have one more of these purple monsters, and then take you up to my room for some mind-blowing sex.”
Well, damn. Heat flared in his chest, settling low in his belly. He raised a hand to the waitress and ordered another round of drinks, his movements calm despite the riot of anticipation coursing through him. “You won’t get an argument from me.”
Echo chuckled, her gaze lingering on him as she twirled the stem of her empty glass between her fingers. “Good. Convincing someone to have sex is such a mood killer.”
“Right?” He laughed, leaning forward again. “Can you imagine? ‘Excuse me, ma’am, you should have sex with me because I’m damn good in bed.’”
She snorted, nearly choking on a laugh as she grabbed a napkin. The sight warmed his chest, her unrestrained laughter more intoxicating than any drink. She coughed, then cleared her throat and reached for his beer before taking a casual sip and sliding it back to him. It was a simple gesture, intimate in its ease.
Finally, she leaned back, her smile wicked. “No presentations required, then? No detailed reports on your favorite positions?”
The waitress brought the drinks, and he paid for them and the meal. He tilted his head, pretending to consider her last comment. “No, no presentations, at least not to date, but maybe you could draft one for me.”
She stood, her new drink in hand, and threw him a look over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with challenge. “There’s no time like the present. Unless you’re not ready?”
“Oh, I’m ready.” Deacon rose, his body moving in sync with hers. Her eyes flicked down, taking in the clear evidence of his readiness, and she smirked.
Her laughter was soft and teasing as she turned toward the elevator, her hips swaying with every step. Deacon followed, his eyes locked on her, a sense of wonder mingling with anticipation. How the hell did I get so damn lucky?