Page 2 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

From the corner of the bar, mugs of beer clink together, a splattering of laughter from a bunch of college kids mingles with Kenny Loggins on the jukebox, and as I wait, I catch the hint of buffalo wings as the waitress brings them out of the kitchen.

She smiles as she passes my table. Nice smile. An invitation. It’s the third one she’s given me in the twenty minutes I’ve been sitting here. She’s cute too. Blond. Curvy. Blue eyes. Natural. Just my type.

I curl my fist around my draft and avoid her gaze. Not interested. Not since the last blonde I met in a bar nearly cost me my life. As if falling for it wasn’t bad enough, the dressing down I received from my CO and the teasing I got from my friends would have been more than enough to keep my libido in check.

Two weeks of debriefs in D.C. with suits demanding answers I don’t have—and now they want to pin a medal on me for something I didn’t do.

Then there’s Hightower. The only reason I’m here, nursing a beer, instead of riding home in a flag-draped box. If Verity hadn’t cut the vest off me...

And now I’m chasing the woman who put it there. A con artist. A traitor. The last face I saw before everything went black.

In the corner, the laughter gets louder, and snatches of their crass conversation reach me, assaulting my eardrums and making me pity the waitress for having to serve them.

I take a long swig before I tap Hightower’s card on the table and try again to make sense of the bold white text stamped over the shiny black.

Humility before honor.

What’s that supposed to mean? Honor is everything. No guts, no glory.

And the way Verity and Reese dealt with the situation was frickin’ glorious.

A loud curse interrupts my thoughts and makes me look up. The waitress is apologizing for spilling a beer over one of the kids. He’s on his feet, and his face is splotching beet red.

“What’s the matter with you? I’m going to stink all afternoon.”

She blanches and swallows.

“I’m sorry. You moved and knocked the tray out of my hands.”

Not satisfied with yelling at her in front of his pals, he threatens her.

“Where’s the manager?”

Ah, crap. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s an entitled bully. Sighing, I get to my feet and announce my presence.

“What’s the problem?”

His eyes travel over me, and he steps back, his feet angling away from me. As the waitress scoots away to get fresh beer and napkins, one of his pals decides to get brave.

“Go kick rocks, man. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

My back straightens.

“Yeah, it does, junior. You’re making a nuisance of yourselves.”

His chest puffs out, and he’s so wasted, he telegraphs his intention to take a swing so far in advance I only need to sidestep.

He stumbles and crashes into an empty table. Chairs clatter, and he curses as he collects himself off the floor. The head bully rounds the table, not as drunk as his pals but full of adrenaline and outrage.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

I squint at him.

“I don’t care who you think you are; it’s time you paid the lady and found another bar.”

His nostrils flare, and his hand slides to his pocket. Nope. Not going to allow that.

I grab his arm, twist it behind his back, and slam him against the wall.

“Pay the lady, and leave.”

He squeals like a rat caught in a trap.

“Fine, fine. Let me go, let me go,”

he says, panting.

I yank him around and look at his friends.

“You hear that? He wants to go. Pay up, and get out.”

The guy who took a swing reaches for his wallet and for his cell on the table, and he hauls out a fistful of twenties.

“Here, here, just let him go,” he says.

I eye the other two, who seem frozen in place at the table.

“Time to skedaddle.”

Both spring to their feet, but it’s not until they exit past a massive figure watching from the doorway that I spot they all have their cell phones out.

I release the head bully and give him a little shove, propelling him out the open door.

I’m met with a grin that’s almost as massive as the man in front of me.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,”

Caleb says.

With a smile, I pick up one of the toppled chairs as the waitress cautiously approaches.

“Thank you. I was freaking out. We have a bouncer, but he’s off sick. I’m on my own until five, and the cook is a little old woman from Vietnam. She barely speaks English.”

I give her a lazy smile.

“No worries. Maybe next time, threaten to call the cops.”

She shakes her head, eyes widening as she puts a plastic ketchup bottle back on the table.

“I can’t do that. His father’s a lawyer. And he is not a good guy.”

Caleb grunts.

“What’s his name?”

He pulls out his phone and dials.

“Delilah, you have time to run a check on someone for me?”

Whatever her response is, it makes him chuckle.

“You know the Lighthouse Bar and Grill? Yeah, that’s it. Call it now. There’s a waitress who needs your help.”

He ends the call and winks at the waitress.

“Don’t look worried. Delilah and Adena will deal with him.”

Her brow creases in confusion when the phone rings at the bar, but she leaves us to answer it.

As curious as I am to see how this plays out, I’m not here to drink beer or to deal with the product of too much education and not enough discipline.

“Silas said Hightower has a better chance of catching her,” I say.

Caleb nods.

“We don’t have to go through the same channels as law enforcement does. But if we agree to work this, we’ll need your continued discretion.”

I work my jaw as I consider.

“You mean you want me to continue to keep my trap shut about what I heard and saw on the plane?”

He nods.

“Without compromising your commitment to homeland security, of course.”

I hold back a laugh.

“Of course.”

A wry smile appears on his lips.

“Verity said you kept your cool. Not sure I would have.”

I swallow a mouthful of bitter liquid.

“Can’t say I agree. I should have done something.”

“What? One move and you’d have been blown to bits.”

“And your point being?”

“You’re here. Must be for a reason.”

As I mull that over, the waitress finishes her conversation, stunned, glances at us, gives a weak smile, then heads into the kitchen.

Perplexed by her response to the call, I return to Caleb’s statement.

“If I survived for a reason, it’s to find her and bring her in.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow in on me.

“You don’t have the resources.”

A knot grips my stomach and doesn’t let up.

“I may not have pilots and bomb techs on speed dial, but I have resources.”

He holds my gaze.

“You’re talking about your sister? You sure that’s wise, involving her?”

My shoulders instinctively pull back.

“She volunteered. Not every day her baby bro almost gets blown to kingdom come.”

“These people are dangerous. Just think you should consider that.”

He’s not wrong. I do need to consider that, but since a hot blonde led me like a lamb to the slaughter, I’ve been struggling to consider anything but putting her behind bars where she belongs.

“It’s a matter of honor.”

His eyebrow hitches.

“You sure it’s your honor talking? Smells more like revenge to me.”

My chest tightens.

“Does it matter?”

Caleb releases a long sigh.

“That you don’t know is what concerns me.”