Echoes at Dawn (37 page)

Nobody let that get them down. The family had been through enough that no one took security lightly. Marlene had insisted on draping flowers from one end of the bulletproof barriers to the other. There was an awning with
flowering vines from top to bottom, and rows of chairs lined the pathway from the house to the archway, where the preacher waited.

Rio ushered Grace into the back row and sat next to the open pathway, placing Grace on his other side. The wedding was small enough that neither bride was having attendants, but they’d immediately pounced on Elizabeth, welcoming the shy little girl into the fold and declaring that she had to be the flower girl for the occasion. Elizabeth had been so excited that she’d fairly danced down the aisle, sprinkling rose petals and honeysuckle as she went.

Nathan and Garrett waited at the end and smiled indulgently as Elizabeth took her place next to them. Then Shea and Sarah made their way toward their future husbands, their smiles big enough to light the darkest night.

Rio stared around him, soaking it all in. He squeezed Grace’s hand, his heart so full of love that he could barely get out what he wanted to say.

“Do you think we can do this one day?” he whispered.

She cocked her head to the side and eyed him with one raised eyebrow. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Maybe,” he hedged. He looked almost nervous. “If I were, what would you say?”

She smiled. “Well, hypothetically speaking, if you were to, I don’t know, propose to me, I’d probably have to think about it for a while, but since this is all hypothetical, it’s hard to know exactly what I’d do.”

He frowned at her. “You just like to torture me, don’t you? You know damn well I’m asking you to marry me.”

He glanced around. At all the love, the unconditional love and support of the Kelly family. “I want this,” he said in a quiet voice. “I want what they have. I want us to be
family
, Grace. You, me and Elizabeth. Nathan and Shea. I want our kids to grow up playing together. I want to know that if something ever happens to me, you’ll have them to lean on.

“I know what I’m asking is a lot. You’d give up a lot. I’ll always be overprotective of you and Elizabeth and any
other children we have. We’ll live in isolation in my home in Belize, where it’s a veritable prison. You’ve had to become a different person, and you won’t be able to just pop over to your sister’s for a visit whenever you want. But no one will ever love you more than I do. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving and protecting you with every breath I have.”

Tears filled Grace’s beautiful blue eyes. She reached up to touch his face and then leaned in to kiss him, uncaring of what was going on around them or that her sister was in the act of getting married.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Eduardo Bezerra. And no one will ever love you more than I do.”

“I already know that,” he said gruffly. “You nearly died for me and don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“But you also gave me a reason to live,” she said in a quiet voice. “You came to me when I was at my lowest point and you wouldn’t let me give up. You saved me, Rio. You made me stronger.”

He kissed her back, long and sweet. “I love you, Grace. I already love Elizabeth. I feel as though she’s my own. But I’ll also want to give her a few brothers and sisters down the road.”

Grace smiled. “I’d like that. I think you’d be a whiz at changing diapers.”

He grinned then. “Bet your ass I would.”

P.J. RUTHERFORD cocked back her chair and flung her boot on top of the table in front of her. She adjusted her straw cowboy hat so her eyes were barely visible, and stared over the smoke-filled room to the band setting up along the far wall.

The waitress thumped a bottle of beer on the table next to P.J.’s boot and then sashayed away, her attention reserved for the male customers she flirted and chatted up.

P.J. wasn’t a chatterer. She’d never spoken to anyone in all the time she’d been coming here. She couldn’t really be called a regular, but yet, in all her irregularity, she was.

This was her place to unwind between missions. It wasn’t what most would consider a place of rest and relaxation, but for P.J. it worked to throw back a few beers, inhale some secondhand smoke, go deaf from listening to bad cover songs and watch a few bar fights.

She winced when the guitarist riffed a particularly bad chord and then ground her teeth together when the mike squealed. These guys were amateurs. Hell, it was probably
their first live gig, which meant she was going home half deaf and popping ibuprofen for the headache she’d be sure to have.

But it beat spending the evening alone in her apartment with jet lag. Although she wasn’t even sure it could be considered jet lag. She’d been three days without sleep, so truly she could sleep at any time, but she was wired and still buzzed from the adrenaline the last mission had wrought.

She was wound tighter than a rusted spring and there was no give in her muscles tonight.

The big happy mush fest that had gone on at the Kelly compound, complete with double weddings and enough true love and babies and bullshit to make her green around the gills, hadn’t helped.

Not that she was a cynic when it came to romance. She had her romance novels and she was fiercely protective of them, and of anyone giving her shit over reading them.

But sometimes the Kelly clan was a little overbearing in the sheer sugary sweetness of all that unconditional love and support. Did no one ever get pissed off and start a fight?

Now that, she’d pay real money to see.

The truth was, she just felt out of place, which was why she’d rather stick to her own team, let Steele take the orders from Sam or Garrett Kelly and she’d follow her team leader. The day Steele became embroiled in all that happy bubbly shit was the day she hung up her rifle and called it quits.

She liked Steele. She knew where she stood with Steele. Always. He didn’t sugarcoat shit. If you fucked up, he called you on it. If you did your job, you didn’t get any special accolades. Not for doing your fucking job, as he put it.

And she liked her team, even if Coletraine was one giant pain in her ass. But he was a cute pain in the ass and he was harmless. Plus he was a perfect target for cutting jokes and egging on. Easy. Too easy. He rose to the bait on too many occasions for her to count.

She was the better marksman. She knew that without false modesty. But it didn’t stop a healthy rivalry between her and Cole when it came to sniper duty.

It pushed them both, made them better at their jobs, and it made the relationship between them easygoing and casual. Just the way she liked it.

The current song ended and she sighed in relief even as she reached for her beer. To her surprise a hand reached out and took the bottle from her just as a pair of booted feet—big booted feet—appeared right next to her chair.

She knew those boots. Ah hell, what was Cole doing here?

She glanced up with a scowl then reached for the beer he held just out of reach.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Cole drawled.

“Don’t make me take my feet down,” she growled. “I was comfortable. This is my space. Go find your own.”

Instead, he sat down, plunked her beer back in front of her and then held up a hand to the waitress, who wasted no time hurrying over.

“Bring me whatever you have on tap, sugar,” Cole said with a wink.

P.J. rolled her eyes as the waitress fell for that fake charm. Cole was easy on the eyes for sure. Muddy blond hair, a newly grown goatee, which P.J. had to admit looked damn good on him. Blue eyes that could be mean as hell one moment and twinkling and carefree the next.

He was a badass, not that she’d ever tell him so. It suited her purposes to keep him down a few notches. Wouldn’t do to have his ego blow up on her. She did have to work with him, after all.

“What the hell are you doing here, Coletraine?” she demanded after the waitress had left. “This isn’t exactly your neighborhood.”

He shrugged. “Can’t a guy come in and check on a teammate?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Sure. There’s Dolphin, Baker and Renshaw and you could always look in on Steele. I’m sure he’d looooove the company.”

“Maybe you’re just special,” he said with a grin.

“Lucky me,” she muttered.

But she couldn’t control the peculiar butterflies floating
around her belly when he turned all that charm on her. Hell, she was acting like a damn girl.

The waitress returned and Cole tipped up his bottle, taking a long swig before he thumped it back down on the table. Behind him, the band had struck up another ear-piercing song and Cole visibly winced.

“Holy shit, Rutherford. I thought you had better taste than this. What the hell are you doing in this shithole anyway? Shouldn’t you be at home catching some R and R? You haven’t slept in what, three days?”

She cast a baleful look in his direction. “I could ask you the same question. At least I’m within a few blocks of my bed. Last time I checked you still resided in the great state of Tennessee. That’s a long ass way from Denver.”

“Maybe I like your company.”

P.J. snorted.

For a long moment they sipped their beer in silence while the music clanged and more smoke filled the air. Cole’s eyes suddenly widened when two girls in in the corners of the bar hopped up on an elevated step and began to do a slow striptease.

“Rutherford, are you a lesbian?”

She choked on her beer and then sat forward, letting her feet drop off the table and onto the floor with a clunk. She tipped back her hat so she could look him square in the eyes.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

He gave her a quelling stare. “You’re in a strip joint. What else am I supposed to think?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He gave her a mock wounded look. “Come on, P.J. Throw me a bone here. Tell me you aren’t a lesbian. Or at least crush me gently.”

“You’re ruining my downtime.”

“Well, if this is downtime, let’s do it up right. Want to do some shots? Or are you afraid I’ll drink you under the table?”

Her brows went up. “You did
not
just challenge me.”

He gave her a smug smile. “I believe I did. First round’s on me.”

“They’re all on you since this is your idea.”

“Okay, but I’m guessing you can’t get past three.”

“Blah, blah. I’m hearing a lot of talk and no action.”

Cole held up his hand again and the waitress walked up to the table.

“Can you set us up with some shots?” He turned to P.J. “You got anything against tequila?”

“I’ve only got something against bad tequila. Don’t cheap out on me, Cole. You better get the good stuff.”

“You heard the lady,” Cole drawled. “Give us a setup in the best tequila you have.”

The waitress looked dubious but she nodded and headed in the direction of the bar.

P.J. studied him from underneath her eyelashes. Despite her initial annoyance, Cole was intriguing her. What was he doing here? And why? She could swear he was flirting with her and the weird thing was, it was a rather delicious sensation.

A guy like Cole wouldn’t have to look far to get laid. No way he came all the way to Denver just for a piece of ass.

The waitress returned, carrying a long board that had ten shot glasses. She set it on the table, took Cole’s credit card and then looked at them both as if to say,
Have at it
.

Cole picked up one glass, handed it to P.J. and then took another for himself. Then he held it up in a toast.

“To another successful mission.”

P.J. could drink to that. She tipped her shot glass against his and then they both downed the alcohol.

She nearly coughed as fire burned down her throat. Hell, it had been a good while since she’d had anything stronger than beer. She’d sworn off the hard stuff after her stint with S.W.A.T. and the aftermath of her leaving the unit.

She brought her glass down on the table with a thump and stared challengingly at Cole. He grinned in return and then scooped up another glass. She leaned forward to take
her own, but this time they were both a bit slower to down them.

The music seemed to grow louder and the smoke got thicker. Her eyes watered, whether from the tequila or the smoke she wasn’t sure. Cole was right about one thing. This was a sucky place to spend her first evening back home.

“What do you say we finish up our five shots and head to my place?” she said before she could change her mind.

He frowned slightly, and her heart sank. She hadn’t read him right at all and now she was going to make a giant fool of herself. She was already preparing to excuse the invitation away with casual indifference when he spoke.

“If we’re going back to your place, one or both of us needs to stop drinking now. How about I get us a bottle and we’ll finish up there?”

She let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even realized had welled up in her chest.

“You get the bottle. I’ll meet you in the parking lot. You can follow me back to my place.”

COLE
went to the bar, motioned for the bartender and a few moments later left with a bottle and two shot glasses. Not that he intended on needing or wanting either, but he was going to make it look good.

He sauntered out to the parking lot, wondering if P.J. would even be there as she’d promised or whether she’d taken off.

She was a hardass. Hard to get close to. Hard to get any information from. He knew next to nothing about her personal life. She never slipped up and dropped hints. When they were on a mission, she had single-minded focus. And when the mission was over, she was always the first to bug out. No chitchat or social hour for her.

It had been surprising as hell to discover that she hung out in this joint. He would have guessed she hated people and that she’d never go out of her way to actually hang out in a place infested by them.

He didn’t feel one iota of guilt over slipping the GPS chip into her backpack before she’d left. She carried that damn thing with her everywhere and it had led him to the parking lot of the bar.