Page 28 of Nica (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #17)
A djusting his Italian silk tie, he stepped closer to the wall of monitors that dominated his home office.
The penthouse overlooked Silicon Valley’s glittering expanse, but his attention was fixed on the smaller screen in the center, the one displaying a red dot moving through the streets of Shiloh Springs, Texas.
Dr. Gabriel Summers, going about his mundane daily routine, completely unaware that every breath he took was monitored, catalogued, and counted down like sands through an hourglass.
“Three years, nine months, and eighteen days,” he murmured, his fingers dancing across the custom keyboard.
The tracking chip he’d had secretly implanted in Summers during what the good doctor believed was a routine tetanus booster had performed flawlessly.
Military-grade technology had its advantages when you had the connections and the bank account to acquire it.
It had been surprisingly easy to bribe a tech to inject the GPS tracking chip.
Of course, the technician was no longer an issue either.
The photograph on his mahogany desk caught the lamplight—Melissa’s radiant smile frozen in time, her arms wrapped around eight-year-old Emma and six-year-old Jake at the beach that fateful summer.
Their last summer together as a family. His throat constricted to the point where he could barely breathe as he traced the frame’s silver edge.
They would have been his children by now.
He should have been their father, teaching Jake to throw a football, watching Emma come down the staircase dressed for her first prom.
Instead, they were living with Melissa’s ex-husband in Oregon, and probably forgetting what his voice sounded like, forgetting the man who’d loved them like his own.
All because of Dr. Gabriel Summers.
The secure phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Report.”
“The blonde’s getting sloppy,” came the gravelly voice of his lead operative in that crappy little town in Texas, the one where Summers thought he could hide out, build a new life.
Like Melissa hadn’t even mattered. “Spotted Jennings twice this week. She’s rattled, boss. Keeps looking over her shoulder.”
“She was supposed to spot Jennings. He did his job and he’s no longer in Texas.
He spooked her, and in turn pulled her husband into her paranoia.
Fear keeps people predictable.” He pulled up another screen—surveillance footage from outside the bakery on Main Street, the one co-owned by Nica Boudreau-Summers’ mother.
Nica walked toward her car, blonde hair catching the streetlight.
So young, so vibrant, so blissfully unaware that with a single call her entire world would come crashing down around her. “What about our inside assets?”
“Rodriguez is in position at the hospital. Thompson’s got eyes on the sheriff’s department. And your boy at the FBI field office in Austin? He has been really helpful with intel on Agent Reynolds’ movements.”
Tapping on the keyboard, the computer screen on his right pulled up a photo of Michael Reynolds, the FBI agent who had traveled to Texas to help his buddy.
Looking at his records, the man was intelligent, highly respected by his fellow agents in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and on the fast track for promotion.
Yet, he’d put everything on hold to help his friend Gabe Summers.
A smile filled with cold satisfaction spread across his lips.
Money truly could buy anything, even federal employees with gambling debts and expensive tastes.
He’d managed to obtain a valuable asset in the FBI Austin office.
He considered making Mike Reynolds an offer he couldn’t turn down but passed on the idea.
Reynolds was too squeaky clean. Sometimes those Boy Scout types could ruin things with their holier-than-thou attitudes.
“Excellent. It’s time to accelerate our timeline.”
“Sir?”
“I’m tired of this game.” Turning back toward the monitors, he watched Summers’ dot move toward the apartment complex he called home, toward his pretty little wife and her warm, welcoming family.
The Boudreaus embraced the doctor like a son, giving him acceptance and love, just like what should have been his when he married Melissa.
“Summers has had months to wonder, to worry, to lose sleep. But he still gets to wake up next to his pretty little bride every morning. Still gets to play house with a family he doesn’t deserve. ”
The memory of that terrible night rushed back—sterile hospital corridors, the endless silence after the infernal beeping of the machines and their death song, and Melissa’s hand cold in his as the life he’d dreamed about and planned for drained away.
Routine surgery, they’d said. A simple gallbladder removal.
But Summers had been impaired, his hands unsteady, his judgment compromised.
The medical board could clear him all they wanted.
He knew the truth. Knew its name— murder .
“He took everything from me.” His reflection shimmered ghostlike on the monitor’s surface. “My future, my family, my reason for breathing. Now it’s my turn.”
“What do you need, boss?”
Fingers flying across the keyboard, he pulled up floor plans, traffic patterns, and personnel schedules.
The family-style diner in the heart of town would be perfect—public enough to send a message, chaotic enough to provide cover.
And when the beautiful Nica Boudreau-Summers lay bleeding on the ground, when her family screamed and wailed over her body, Gabriel would finally understand the meaning of true loss.
“One bullet,” he said, his voice steady as granite. “That’s all it takes to destroy a man’s entire world. Contact our shooter. Tell him it’s time.”
“And if that FBI friend of his gets involved?”
Marcus laughed, the sound echoing off the glass walls of his fortress.
“Agent Reynolds? He’s good, I’ll give him that.
But he’s also predictable. Honor, duty, loyalty—such admirable weaknesses.
He’ll come running to save his friend, and when he does…
” He pulled up another file, photos of Mike Reynolds seated at a roulette table in Vegas, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, a look of desperation on his face.
“Well, let’s just say I believe in comprehensive planning. ”
The red dot on his screen stopped moving. Summers was home now, probably kissing his wife hello, asking about her day, making dinner plans. Living the life that should have been his.
Not for much longer.
Opening the drawer, he carefully placed Melissa’s photo in his desk, next to the small velvet box containing the engagement ring she’d never had the chance to wear with the matching wedding band.
Soon, she would be avenged. Soon, Gabriel Summers would know exactly how it felt to lose everything in the space of a heartbeat.
“Send word to our people in Shiloh Springs. Tell them to get ready.” His reflection now sharp and determined in the darkened monitor, his mouth compressed into a straight line. “Game over, Dr. Summers. Your debt has come due.”
The line went dead, and he poured himself three fingers of eighteen-year-old single-malt scotch, raising the glass in a toast to the ghost who haunted him day and night in his memories.
“For you, my love. For our family that never was.”
Outside his windows, the valley sparkled with a million lights, each one representing dreams and futures and possibilities. Soon, Gabriel Summers would watch his own light go out, just as Melissa’s had that terrible day when everything changed.
The hunter had become the architect of vengeance, and every blueprint he’d drawn was about to become deadly reality.
Nica stepped out of the truck and inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the knot of unease curled in her stomach.
The night air carried the scent of fresh earth and a distant trace of mesquite smoke drifting from someone’s barbecue, grounding her in the familiar comforts of home.
But despite the warmth of the town, something felt… off.
She glanced at Destiny, who leaned lightly against Dane as they walked toward Daisy’s Diner.
Her sister-in-law’s pale skin nearly matched the faded yellow glow of the overhead streetlamp, and though she was smiling faintly, exhaustion tugged at her features.
Destiny’s pregnancy was taking its toll, the morning sickness relentless.
She knew Rafe had pulled Destiny into checking up on Gabe’s background, since Destiny was one of the best computer experts she’d ever met, but it was hard to work on the computer when she spent half the day hunched over the porcelain throne.
“I swear, Dane, if you keep hovering, she’s gonna trip over your feet,” Nica teased, nudging her brother’s shoulder.
Dane shot her a smug look as he adjusted his arm around Destiny’s shoulder. “She’s carrying the next generation of Boudreaus, Nica. My kid and my wife deserve the best.”
“Well, considering the gene pool, let’s hope the little one gets Destiny’s brains,” Nica quipped, arching a brow.
Destiny chuckled, the sound soft but genuine. “I’ll take all the prayers I can get.”
Douglas held open the door to the diner, ushering them all inside.
The familiar hum of conversation wrapped around them, along with the comforting scents of fried chicken, coffee, and fresh-baked bread.
Daisy’s had been a staple in their lives for as long as she could remember—warm lights, linoleum floors, the same group of locals sitting at the counter sipping black coffee and dissecting town gossip.