Brody's Vow (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

“Met her and Briar on an op in Miami last fall.”

Right before Georgia and her new man had disappeared to Cuba together. Interesting. “No, but I can hold my own.” She debated how much she should tell him, decided to go for generic. Being a solo contractor had its advantages. As long as she didn’t tell him anything classified, she could say what she wanted. “I don’t get to kill from afar like she and Georgia do. My specialty is getting up close and personal with my targets.”

In any way that required.

Her body and seduction powers were her greatest lures, as well as formidable weapons. She’d learned long ago how to mentally disassociate during the acts of sex and killing, instead focusing on the power reversal her targets were always unaware of until it was too late.

He shot her a sideways glance but didn’t say anything further. She remained alert for the rest of the drive, even though she was nearly certain no one had followed them. By the time they reached Sugar Hollow she had the mother of all migraines going and her body hurt so badly that all she wanted to do was lie down for a few hours.

“We’re here,” Colebrook murmured a few moments later as he turned into a long, winding driveway off a quiet road in a rural area.

Up ahead in the distance a two-story house stood in the darkness, its lower windows glowing with warm yellow lamplight. “This is your family’s place?” She wasn’t going to have to make small talk with his parents, was she?

“Yeah, my dad lives here. It’s a horse farm. We raise breeding stock.”

“What kind of horses?”

“Quarter Horses. They’re good at running short distances and can outrun most other breeds in races of a quarter mile or less. That’s how they got the name.” He parked out front and turned off the truck.

Trinity stifled a pained groan as she got out of the truck before he could come around to help her. Crickets and frogs sang in the background, the scent of fresh cut grass carrying on the light breeze.

Ahead of her the pale yellow farmhouse looked like something out of a painting with its inviting wraparound porch. There was even a porch swing on one end of it, and a couple of rocking chairs near the front door. She pictured Colebrook sitting out here in the evenings with a cold beer. “How many acres of land does your family own?” she asked as he rounded the hood.

“Sixty. It’s mostly pasture and woodland.”

It was beautiful country. The entire setting was idyllic, the house looking like it should belong to a family in an after-school special. Not the kind of place she ever envisioned visiting.

“Come on, let’s get you settled.” He started for the porch but she hesitated and he looked back at her. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere by yourself tonight,” he said in a reasonable tone. “Might as well spend the night here, where you know you’ll be safe.”

It felt so wrong. Weak. She never relied on anyone to look after her, to protect her, but she had to admit she was in rough shape at the moment, not to mention exhausted.

“Unless you’re planning to walk back into town by yourself, come on,” he said, heading for the front porch without glancing back.

Her gut said she could trust him. To a point.

Hoping she wouldn’t come to regret her decision, Trinity followed him. She stepped into the entryway and gazed around at the homey surroundings as the scents of old wood and lemon greeted her.

Everything was neat and tidy. Wide plank floors stretched as far as the eye could see, leading to a grand wooden staircase that split the lower floor into two halves. The light cream-painted walls made everything appear bright and clean. It was cozy, a home clearly well-loved and cared for by its owner.

Colebrook closed the door behind him and stepped up beside her, and she felt a tug of attraction at having him so close. She put him at around six-two, around two-ten or so. He was wide through the chest and shoulders, and he smelled damn good. Soapy and clean. Good enough that part of her was tempted to lean in and inhale more of his scent.

Which was insane, and maybe she’d hit her head harder than she’d realized. She was so used to using her body to get what she wanted, had never experienced attraction to any of her targets, that this felt…unsettling. And far more tempting than she would have expected.

“You hungry?” he murmured, his quiet tone telling her he didn’t want to waken whoever else was at home.

Way hungrier than she should be, under the circumstances, and not for food. That was startling all on its own. It had been…

God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been attracted to anyone or had sex for pleasure’s sake. Had to be nearly two years ago now, that time she’d hooked up with a guy from a pub when she’d first moved to London. And that had only been for one night, after she’d checked him out and looked into his background to make sure he wasn’t a threat to her. “No thanks.”

“I’ll show you up to your room then,” he said, heading for the staircase, the hitch in his gait more pronounced than before. Maybe the drive had made his leg stiffen up. “There’s some pain meds in the upstairs bathroom. I’ll—” He stopped as the sound of shuffling footsteps reached them from upstairs.

From the shadows at the top of the stairs, an old man appeared. Gray-haired, a heavy growth of stubble on his lower face that didn’t disguise the way the right side of it drooped. He was slightly bent to one side, leaning on the cane in his left hand.

“Brody,” the man said, his voice a deep rumble, the syllables slightly slurred. “Who’s this you’ve brought home with you?”

Brody might be thirty-four years old and consider himself to be an elite operator, but he still cringed at coming in late and waking up his old man. “Sorry we woke you, Dad. This is Trinity. She’s a…friend of mine,” he said, not knowing what else to say to explain this odd situation.

Rather than respond, his father shuffled down the stairs, staring at her. Trinity didn’t move, watching his father come toward them closely, without a word.

Brody hated that this was how she was seeing him for the first time. Back in the day, his father had been one of the most feared and respected gunny sergeants the Corps had ever produced. Before the stroke that had crippled him two years ago, he’d still been as strong and fit as most men half his age. It would always hurt him to see his dad this way, withered and partially paralyzed, the right side of his mouth and eye drooping.

But there was nothing withered about his father’s brain.

Those sharp hazel eyes moved from Trinity and back to him as his dad stopped on the bottom stair. Just high enough so that Brody had to look up at him a bit. Still the unmistakable master of this house, and the land it stood on. “Your
friend’s
hurt,” his father said, the pointed statement blade-sharp despite his slurred speech.

Brody resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck and lower his gaze. His old man was a formidable son of a bitch, even now. “She’s a friend of my commander and his wife. She needed a place to stay for the night, so I brought her here.”

His father turned his intense gaze on Trinity, who still hadn’t moved. “What happened to you?” he asked her bluntly.

To her credit, Trinity stepped forward and offered her hand. Her left hand, since she’d noticed his father couldn’t move his right arm. It touched something inside Brody, to see that gesture of unspoken respect. “I’m Trinity.” She didn’t stare and there was no discernable pity in her expression as she looked at him. Brody relaxed more.

“Gray Colebrook,” his father replied, setting his cane aside to shake her hand. “So,” he began as he took his cane up again. “What happened to you, young lady?”

“I had a car accident,” she replied, and Brody had to admire her smooth, unruffled response. Not too many people could withstand the full effect of Grayson Colebrook’s penetrating stare without being rattled to some extent, but she appeared completely at ease. “I appreciate you and your son letting me stay the night. I’ll be on my way first thing in the morning.”

His father grunted, clearly not convinced. “Not at all. And you’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” he added, taking Brody by surprise. Everyone knew his father didn’t like company outside of family. Since the stroke, he’d become almost as much of a recluse as Wyatt. “Take her upstairs and put her in Charlie’s old room,” he said to Brody. “Then I want a word with you.”

“Yes sir.” He felt like he was fifteen all over again and busted for coming in after curfew as he ushered Trinity upstairs. “You can stay in here,” he told her, opening the door to Charlie’s room.

“Is Charlie your brother?”

“My sister, Charlotte. I’ve got two brothers as well.” The eldest of whom, Wyatt, was no doubt alone right now in the cabin he lived in, a stone’s throw from the main house. Miserable, solitary bastard that he’d become.

Brody gestured to the bathroom across the hall. “Go have a hot shower and get warm, you’ll feel better. There are plenty of towels in the cupboard.” Just the thought of what she’d look like standing beneath the water as it sluiced over her naked curves had his blood heating.

She stared up at him for a moment, and Brody once again felt himself being pulled under the spell of those hypnotic, deep blue eyes. He could all too easily imagine cupping that soft cheek in his hand as he leaned down to taste that tempting full lower lip. She radiated an air of absolute confidence and self-possession that he found irresistible, and coupled with her looks and that body in addition to her secret skill set that had him wanting to know all about her…

Yeah, it was probably best that she was only staying for one night. He was no stranger to women, and even though he suspected she was accustomed to using her looks to get what she wanted, there was no reason for her to play him. So he was pretty sure that the attraction simmering between them was mutual and that was as big a rush as taking out a target during a mission.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on his for a moment before she turned and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Feeling strangely protective of her, he went downstairs and found his father in the living room, ensconced in his favorite brown leather recliner, his feet propped up on the footrest and the cane within easy reach.

“Sit,” his father said gruffly.

Brody sank onto the couch opposite him, wincing as his stiff left thigh twinged.

His father’s gaze dipped to Brody’s leg before moving up to meet his eyes. “You’re looking better. Moving better.”

“Yeah, I’m doing a lot better. Been working hard rebuilding the muscle mass I’ve got left. Stiffened up on me some during the drive. It’ll be better in the morning.” He rubbed at the sore muscles in his hip. That tackle by Trinity earlier hadn’t helped matters. “Still not sure how things are gonna go down the road in terms of operational ability, but it’s early days yet.” He wasn’t giving up hope that he’d still be able to rejoin his team at the end of all this. That was his goal, and he would do everything he could to make sure it happened.

“So. What happened to her?” his father asked.

“I don’t really know,” Brody admitted, keeping his voice down so Trinity couldn’t hear him from upstairs. In a way he felt bad about telling his father Trinity’s business when it was clear she didn’t want anyone to know, but since he’d brought her here and she might pose a threat, his dad had a right to know. “Not sure if you remember me saying that my commander’s wife has serious training.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Apparently, Trinity’s like her, but not a sniper.” More of a femme fatale-type, if Brody guessed right. He could totally see why she’d be good at it. A couple hours in her company and he was already interested in her. Any man with a pulse would be.

His father’s graying eyebrows drew together. “She’s military?”

“No. I don’t know what they are, but I’m pretty sure they’re government agents of some kind.”

“What kind of agents?”

“They’re pros, Dad.”

“Hitters?” he asked, the question sharp despite the slurred speech.

Now Brody rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable under his old man’s scrutiny. “I think so, yeah.”

His father was quiet for a moment, leaning back in his chair to absorb that little nugget of info. “So, her accident. It wasn’t an accident.”

There was no way he was even going to try to sugar coat this; his father would see right through it and be pissed off. “She was on a job tonight. Someone targeted her afterward, ran her off the road. Her car crashed into a lake and she managed to swim out, find her way to my commander’s place and shut down his home security system. That’s how DeLuca knew something was up and asked me to swing by to check it out. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“No,” his father agreed. “But she’s a target.”

“Yeah. I figured she’d be as safe here as anywhere, and it’s only for the night.” Maybe. Unless he could convince her to stay until she was fully healed, or at least until she could put a solid plan together. “And if anything
did
happen, we could take care of it.” We, as in he and Wyatt. A lethal combination, even considering Wyatt’s injuries. Whoever was hunting Trinity would have to be insane to attack a place housing two former SOF Marines and a female assassin.

But Brody would be on guard for trouble, just in case it came looking.

His old man studied him in silence with those miss-nothing hazel eyes, that laser-like stare as potent as ever despite the way his right eye drooped. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

I sure as hell hope so.
“I’m just doing a favor for my commander.” That’s what he told himself, even if he already felt involved and didn’t want to see anything happen to Trinity. “She’ll move on as soon as she’s well enough.”

They both looked up as the guest bathroom door opened and her hushed footsteps crossed the floor above their heads. Charlie’s door shut a moment later.

Glancing back at him, his father gave a decisive nod. “She’ll be safe as long as she’s here. But you watch your back,” he added in the way only a man who’d served multiple combat deployments and seen death and destruction up close and personal could.