DONOVAN: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) (9 page)

Kate

I was fuming. It seemed like every time Donovan had a moment alone with me, someone reminded him why he was
really
with me. I just wanted a minute; I just wanted to feel his hand in mine and wanted to taste his kiss. But they were always there.

And then those bitter thoughts started biting away at that desire.

How could I want him? After what he did? He was Joshua’s best friend, but he put him in a position that led to his death.

Sometimes I had nightmares. Sometimes I was there when Joshua was beaten, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was scream.

But I wasn’t there. I was at Donovan’s house with him, in his childhood bedroom that was so sanitary that it might as well have been a guest room in the home of someone who suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder. It was so clean and tidy that I was afraid to touch anything. That was, of course, until he touched me.

We knew Joshua expected us at the party—to arrive separately, of course—by midnight. But we lingered longer than we should have. It wasn’t just the physical part of it—though that was more magical than I’d expected my first time to be. Friends warned me it would be painful, that it would be awkward and embarrassing. It wasn’t. Donovan was gentle and kind, as nervous as I was. Beyond that…we talked. Donovan and Joshua were headed off to Stanford. I was headed to the University of San Francisco just across the bridge. We talked about getting an apartment together our sophomore year. We talked about all the activities we would do together, all the firsts we would share. We talked about the future—when we had a future.

By the time we got to the beach, Amanda was frantic. She rushed up to the parking lot, screaming about my missing brother. Joshua had gone to get some more beer from a local convenience store—with a fake ID—hours ago but hadn’t come back. But his car was there, parked right next to where Donovan had parked his.

“I’ll go north,” Donovan said. “You go south.”

I ran. I knew this section of the beach like the back of my hand because it was where we hung out. It was like an extension of the high school. I stopped and asked everyone I passed who wasn’t too drunk to understand words if they’d seen him. I ran up and down the beach, twice. Three times. And then Donovan’s text.

I found him. Don’t come.

Of course I went. I ran. And he was there, on the beach, his blood washing away with the tied. Tears were running down Donovan’s face. I’d never seen a man cry, not even my dad when my mom died. That frightened me more than the bloody mess that was my brother’s face.

There was a rock. I remember thinking it was odd, that rock, just sitting there. I didn’t realize it was the murder weapon at the time because we didn’t know what had happened at first. The ambulance came, the paramedics trying to clear his nose and mouth so that he could breathe. They worked on him so long that I didn’t know what to think. Then the ambulance left and Donovan grabbed my hand, dragged me to his car so we could follow. I vaguely remember him calling my dad, telling him what had happened. I think that was the first time I heard someone say the word
beaten
.

The rest…it was a blur. But when they told us that John Kyle, Reese Connor, and Tony Smith were arrested, I knew. And I knew it was Donovan’s fault.

I was there when Joshua warned him to be careful.

“It was just a prank,” Donovan said. “One last hurrah before graduation.”

“Yeah, but to pin it on John Kyle and the others? Not smart,” Joshua said. “I heard that John was arrested last month for stealing a car. Not the kind of guy you should be getting tangled up with.”

“John’s harmless. Just a wimp trying to pretend he’s a tough guy. I can deal with him.”

“Yeah, well, I hope so. Otherwise you might have just put into motion something we’ll all regret.”

Joshua knew what Donovan had done. And he was the one to pay the price.

I glanced toward the kitchen and caught Ash peeking out at me. I inclined my head and he turned away, going back to Donovan. He touched his shoulder, saying something that clearly upset Donovan. I could see it in his eyes—even if he restrained himself from showing it in any other way.

I knew him so well. Loved him once upon a time.

Maybe that was what it was. Maybe that part of me that loved him then wanted to finish what we started that night. Maybe I just needed to get him out of my system.

Maybe I just…

Was it my imagination, or was someone rattling the doorknob?

“Someone’s here!”

I stood, moving back as far into the corner of the room as I could get. Ash and Donovan came immediately, Donovan watching me, the gun I’d seen earlier in the evening suddenly back in his hands. Ash, too, holding a gun low in front of him.

The door rattled again, and then opened, the woman I’d seen with Donovan earlier in the day laughing as she stepped into the house.

“Oh, hey,” she said, holding up her hands, as she realized how much gun power was focused on her. “I thought you knew we were here.”

Ash relaxed, sliding his gun into a holster strapped around his arms and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

What the…?

“Yep, here it is. Sorry, love.”

He kissed the woman’s cheek, as a tall, husky man came through the door behind her. I recognized him immediately as the police chief here in Santa Monica…Jack Warren.

The woman glanced at me, assessing me—did she think of me as competition?—then turned to Donovan. My heart twisted in my chest, as he grinned affectionately at her.

“Twice in one day,” she said with a big smile. “My lucky day.”

“Hey, Em,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

She slapped his cheek lightly, almost maternally, then marched into the room and held her hand out to me.

“I’m Detective Emily Warren. You must be Miss Thompson.”

I hesitated, but Donovan offered a slight nod, telling me it was okay.

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely, taking her hand, still so confused by what was going on here. Why was Donovan’s girlfriend here?

She squeezed my hand warmly as she looked me up and down, clearly assessing me for a reason I wasn’t quite clear on. Then she nodded as she stepped back.

“That’s my husband, by the way,” she said, gesturing to the chief. “Jack, come say hello.”

Husband?

He lumbered forward and joined his wife, sliding his hand almost provocatively down her back as he offered me his hand as well. So much affection. How stupid could I be to believe she and Donovan…there wasn’t anything going on between them, was there? A woman doesn’t look at her husband that way when she’s having an affair, especially when the object of that affair is standing, smiling, behind her.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Thompson.”

“Kate, please.”

He just nodded, squeezing my hand lightly and then letting go.

“Why don’t we take a seat,” Donovan announced, his gun once again gone to wherever it was he stowed it.

I hesitated, but Donovan came to my side and pulled me down next to him.

Detective Warren sat on the edge of the coffee table where Donovan had sat earlier and addressed me directly.

“I don’t know if they’ve had a chance to tell you, but fresh tool marks have been identified on the window ledge outside your bedroom window.”

I could feel the color draining from my face.

“Have you messed with those windows recently? Or had a workman do anything in your side yard in the last month or so?”

I shook my head.

She glanced at her husband, and he stepped away, tugging a phone out of his pocket.

“We have reason to believe that the alarm that alerted Gray Wolf to danger at your house was accurate. We have a team of investigators at your house right now, trying to figure out what they were after and if they succeeded in their intentions.”

“What do you mean? Do you think…?”

I looked at Donovan, and he simply, quietly, took my hand.

“We don’t know what to think right now, Miss Thompson,” the detective said. “But be assured that we’re working as quickly as we can to figure out who might be after you.”

I bit my lip, fear dancing through me, as I imagined someone standing outside my bedroom window, a window that was less than five feet from where I’d been laying. Who could want to get into my room? Could it have been a coincidence? But, who believes in coincidences like that?

“Have you begun to remember what happened that night?” the detective asked.

I shook my head. “No, nothing.”

I could see the disappointment in her eyes, but she just smiled. She was obviously quite skilled in attending to victims. Must come in handy in her line of work, but it only made me feel manipulated.

“Can I ask a question?”

No one said anything. No one even seemed to be paying attention to me. They were all too busy with their own thoughts.

“Why did this person leave? What frightened them off?” I studied the detective as her head came up and she regarded me with a little bit of surprise in her eyes. “The alarm that woke Donovan is silent, right?” I said, talking directly to her now. “What made this person leave? Was it us leaving the house? And, if that was it, did this person follow us?”

“I followed protocol,” Donovan said immediately. “Used a roundabout way of getting here, watched for a tail. No one followed us.”

“But she has a point,” Ash said. “If someone was there, and they didn’t finish what they were there to do, our team should have found them.”

Detective Warren nodded, shooting a look to her husband who was just coming back into the room.

The room was suddenly a web of activity. Ash and the chief of police were on the phone. Detective Warren was walking through the house, checking each room as she passed a door, closed or open. And Donovan was urging me off the couch.

“We should go,” he said.

Ash tossed him a set of keys. “Take mine.”

We started for the door, but Ash grabbed Donovan’s arm before we could get out the door.

“David thinks he has an image of the intruder. Have her look at it when you get there.”

Donovan jerked his chin up, as he turned and pulled me out the front door. They were all so excited, I almost expected to be ambushed on the driveway. But we made it to the SUV—another dark, nondescript SUV—without incident.

“How do you tell them apart?”

“License plate,” Donovan said, as though my question was completely serious.

He pulled out of the driveway, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road. The tension rolling off his shoulders was palpable. A part of me wanted to reach over there and help him relax. Another part of me was frightened by his tension because it probably meant that I should be tense, too.

“Where are we going?”

“Ash has a place outside of town. The compound.”

“The Compound? Is that its name?”

“No, it’s just what we call it. Our offices are there on the bottom floor of Ash’s house. And then there are houses on the property where the rest of us, his operatives, live.”

“You live there, too?”

He glanced at me. “Yeah.”

I hadn’t ever thought about where Donovan had been living since he was discharged from the Army. But the idea that I was about to see the place where he spent the majority of his time took the edge off of my fear. My curiosity was bigger than my fear.

Funny how that works sometimes.

“And Detective Warren?”

He glanced at me. “What about her?”

“How did she get involved with Gray Wolf?”

He was quiet a moment, his eyes still shifting from the road to the rearview mirrors, and back again.

“We had a case when the company was still new. Only our second client. She was the lead detective on it. And when she came to interview the victim and Ash and I were already with him, she was pretty annoyed. But when the perp made an attempt on the vic and we were able to thwart it, she was pretty impressed. Then she crossed our path—or we crossed hers—on a couple more cases, and she finally conceded that we weren’t going away. I guess she just found it easier to work
with
us.”

“You’re friendly.”

He glanced at me. “I’m not having an affair with her. She’s a friend.”

I nodded. “I know. I figured that out when her husband came lumbering into the room.”

Donovan actually smiled for the first time in hours. “He’s something, isn’t he? But he’s a damn good cop.”

There was respect in his voice. And, for some reason, that too pushed the fear inside my head back a little more.

I was in good hands. If I’d ever doubted it, those doubts were gone now.

Kate

The compound turned out to be a beautiful piece of property out in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by a wrought iron fence with a wide gate that had no adornment, no sign of who or what might live beyond it. It was all very deceptively benign. Donovan had to use his smartphone to get through the gate, so I was pretty sure it was all connected to this computer system that was also monitoring the cameras back at my house. There were probably cameras everywhere. And I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn there were some sort of weapons buried somewhere in the luscious lawn that flowed away from the drive on either side.

We drove nearly half a mile before we entered a small copse of trees that opened onto a rounded courtyard in front of a beautiful stone and wood home. It looked like one of those hunting lodges you always see on those television shows featuring the rich. Like the fence, it seemed benign. There was a lot of glass along the front of the house, windows that reached from floor to ceiling. They were tinted, so I couldn’t see inside, but it seemed an ill choice for a place that housed a highly trained security team. But I assumed the glass was bulletproof or something, something that would keep the bad guys out.

“Come on,” Donovan said, coming around to my side of the car and offering me a hand. “It’s safe here.”

I took his hand and let him lead me up the stone steps that stopped at the wide, double doors that served as the home’s main entrance. The doors opened onto a large, open living area that was filled with desks and computers and a long conference table with a few couches and loveseats scattered around the room. A woman who appeared to be just a little older than Detective Warren sat behind the first desk. She looked up, a phone pressed to her ear, her eyes narrowing as she studied Donovan.

“You okay?” she asked almost gruffly.

“In one piece.”

“Good. David has something he wants you to look at.”

Donovan nodded. “Thanks, Rose.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, as we passed her desk and headed toward the back of the house.

“Rose. She’s the office manager slash receptionist slash mother.”

“Mother?”

“You’ll understand if you spend much time here.”

“Are she and Ash…?”

He glanced at me. “Of course not!”

I shrugged. “You can’t blame me for being curious.”

“He’s her boss.”

I wanted to point out that that rule didn’t seem to fly much around here, considering what we’d been doing when Ash texted him a couple of hours ago. But I held my tongue. On that point, anyway.

Donovan pulled me across the room to an array of computers that were balanced somewhat precariously over a low desk. Tucked behind them was quite a surprise. When Donovan told me about this computer guy who created this program that monitored my house day and night, I’d imagined a caricature of a nerd. Someone small and wearing heavy glasses. Instead, I found myself looking at a slightly smaller version of Ash.

David had the same dark hair as Ash, but his was much longer, a tangle of curls that touched his collar and threatened to fall into his eyes. And those eyes…where did they get such gorgeous green eyes? Chiseled jaw, full lips, and those broad shoulders…lady killers, both of them. The fact that David was in a chair, fingerless gloves on his hands to help him get around on his own without the threat of blisters, was no detractor. Not to me. If not for Donovan, I might have seriously considered an offer from either of the Grayson brothers.

“Ash said you had something to show us?”

David didn’t even look away from his computer screens. He tapped something into his computer and, almost instantly, a picture filled all ten or twelve of the screens.

“That’s the best I could clean it up,” David said.

I wasn’t even sure what it was we were looking at. But then I began to see the vague outline of a human body, the curve of the head and the roundness of the shoulders. I moved closer behind David so I could see it more straight on.

“Is that the person who was outside my house?”

“That’s him. Or her.”

“Why do you say her?” Donovan asked.

“The width of the shoulders, the size of the head…it’s either a small man or an average-sized woman.”

I stared at the image, trying to see something that I couldn’t. It was dark. The house was dark—why did I pick that shade of blue again?—and the clothing the person was wearing was dark. Therefore, it all just sort of blended together. There was nothing to see but outlines.

It was like trying to identify your father in a blurred photograph. Impossible.

“I don’t see anything,” I said before Donovan or David could ask.

“I didn’t think you would,” David said. “But I was hoping something about it might nudge your memory.”

I shook my head again. How could it nudge my memory when it just looked like a blob? A blob didn’t kill Joe.

Donovan took my hand and pulled me back toward him. I caught David looking, curiosity clear in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He simply turned back to the computer and punched a few more letters and numbers into his keyboard. Again the screen filled with one image, this one clearly a live feed outside of my house. Outside my bedroom window to be exact.

There were people moving around in the dead grass, doing something with the bottom edge of the windowsill.

“Santa Monica police?” Donovan asked.

“Yeah. They’ve been trying to figure out what the perp was doing all morning, but they still have no clue. Last I heard, they thought that maybe the perp was trying to set a device to the window. Something explosive.”

Donovan nodded. “Just a little C4 there would probably have taken out the whole room.”

“Do you think we’re dealing with ex-military?” David asked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’ll check it out,” he said, changing the screens back to the multitude of code and images that had been there when we first walked up. Donovan tugged at my hand, turning to head back across the room.

“He’s gone,” he whispered near my ear.

I glanced back and, sure enough, David was clearly consumed by whatever it was he was doing.

“Come eat,” Rose called to us from the kitchen.

In addition to being the office manager, she was also quite an accomplished chef. She’d whipped up lovely tomato and cheese omelets while we were talking to David. Since I hadn’t eaten the night before, I was starving and quite grateful for the delicious concoction. Rose smiled when I complemented her, but her attention was clearly on Donovan.

“Joss’ case resolved itself last night. She’ll be back in town this afternoon.”

Donovan nodded as he tucked into his eggs. “Good for her.”

“She’ll be ready for a new case this evening. You know her, never likes to be idyll.”

“I know.” Donovan shifted in his chair. “I’m sure something will come up.”

Rose glanced at me, then focused on Donovan for a long second. “Okay,” she said softly, touching his shoulder as she headed back to her desk.

“What was that all about?” I asked. “Who’s Joss?”

Before he could answer, another tall, handsome man came bounding through the front door.

“Beautiful, sweet Rose,” he called as he caught her a few feet from her desk, twirling her around and dipping her as though they were on the floor of a ballroom dancing competition. “How are you, my gorgeous lady?”

Rose blushed, but her tone was stern when she said, “I told you to cut that out, Kirkland.”

“You’ve told me many things, my sweet Rose. But it seems you protest much too much.”

She slapped his arm, but it didn’t seem like there was much power behind it.

The man she called Kirkland spotted Donovan and me. He smiled brightly, practically prancing as he crossed the room.

“Donovan, my brother,” he said, slapping Donovan on the back. “How’s it hanging? And who is this exquisite creature?”

“Ignore him, Kate,” Donovan said. “He’ll eventually go away.”

“Like an annoying bug?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on,” Kirkland said, settling in the chair that separated Donovan and I. “I’m Kirkland,” he said, offering me his hand. “Donny and I have been working together forever. Doesn’t that give me some cred?”

I couldn’t help but smile. And it didn’t hurt that he had one of the most charming smiles I’d ever seen. He reminded me of Matthew McConaughey. He had that sort of southern charm that was so hard to resist. But in the looks department he was more of a younger, taller version of Michael Ealy. Absolutely gorgeous.

Where did Ash find these guys?

“I’m Kate.”

His smile widened as he took my hand between both of his. “It’s a joy to meet you, Kate. How did you happen to meet our Donny here?”

“Kirk,” Donovan said in a tone that could only be described as a warning.

“She’s a client,” David said, rolling into the kitchen almost silently in his fiberglass wheelchair.

“A client?” Kirkland looked me up and down, then leaned close and whispered in my ear, “If this one can’t keep you safe, you’re more than welcome to come seek me out, darling.”

I giggled because it just seemed almost comical. “I will.”

“Good.”

Donovan stood and came around to my chair. “I think it’s time to move on now.”

But before we could even leave the kitchen, a tall, shapely blond came falling through the front door, her hand pressed to her head like she’d had a few too many last night.

“Can I help you?” Rose asked.

Kirkland jumped out of his chair, the charm gone from his smile.

“I got it, Rose.”

“I thought Ash told you about bringing your ladies home, Kirkland,” Rose said, disapproval very clear in her glare.

“I know, I know,” he said, taking the girl’s arm and turning her to the door, going back the way she’d just come.

“That happens a lot?” I asked.

“At least twice a week,” David said.

I watched them go through the windows, headed down a narrow trail that snaked around the left side of the house. I almost envied the girl who finally won Kirkland’s heart. He struck me as the kind of the man who would fall hard when he finally allowed himself to fall.

Donovan tugged my hand and led the way through the living room again.

“You should go rest,” Rose said.

“I was going to take her up to one of the spare rooms.”

“Ash said he wanted you to stay with her.” Rose glanced at me, again making me feel as though I was being assessed. Or judged. “You should go to your place. You’d be more comfortable there.”

Donovan nodded. “Okay. You’ll come get us if—”

“You know I will.”

***

Donovan’s house wasn’t even big enough to really call it a house. It was a box with a couple of windows, a door, and less than a thousand feet of living space. There was a small living room where he’d crammed a couch and a recliner in front of a flat-screen television, a kitchenette that was only big enough to hold a full-sized refrigerator, a two-burner stove, and a bar sink. The bedroom and bathroom were tucked into the back. There was a queen-sized bed and a small dresser in the bedroom that you could walk past if you turned sideways. The bathroom was the only truly spacious place in the house with both a shower and a separate tub, but even in there you had to really be conscious of the way you walked around or you’d slam your shin against a bit of porcelain.

“Take the bed,” Donovan practically ordered.

“It’s your bed.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

The way he was looking at me, I knew there was no point in arguing, but some part of me really wanted to. I bit my tongue and settled on the edge of the bed, watching him shove the few discarded items of clothing that had been lying around in their proper places.

“Not as tidy as your bedroom back at your parents’ place.”

“Don’t have a compulsive maid following me around this place.”

“Don’t suppose you have a maid at all.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet and headed for the door.

“I’m here if you need me.”

And then he was gone.

I couldn’t resist walking around, touching small objects that were sitting on the dresser, the side tables, wondering where they’d come from and why they mattered enough to him to keep on display in his private space. Some were pretty easy to deduce. A bullet fragment in a jar probably came from a wound he sustained, or a friend. A framed letter from a general whose name I couldn’t quite read and a shadow box filled with military medals, clearly things that were important to him. Not so obvious was a paperweight from meteor crater in Arizona. A root beer bottle stuffed with what looked like concert and movie tickets. A small, torn rag doll.

Standing there, looking at these things, I realized how little I knew about this person I’d known my entire life. So much had happened to him these last ten years. Would I ever know the full impact of those years and those experiences on his life? Would I ever understand what it was he went through in that time?