Colorado Connection (Colorado Heart Book 6) (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

The warmth of the body next to him confused Zander and he opened his eyes, half-expecting to find himself still in Syria. He saw Marshal’s profile and flinched. He really was home. His lover was beside him, and they’d made love last night. His dick was hard, and he rocked his hips, brushing his cock against Marshal’s leg. His hand was on Marshal’s chest, and he let it slowly trail down Marshal’s body to find his rock-hard cock. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and began stroking Marshal as he ground his own dick against Marsh’s hip.

Marshal groaned and wiggled, slowly opening his eyes. Their gazes met, and love filled him. The hopelessness he’d felt was gone, replaced with love and happiness. Marshal moved quickly, flipping Zander to his back, settling on top of him. He paused for a second as he adjusted their dicks so they were lined up together, their cocks pressed between their bellies.

Zander lifted his head and quickly kissed Marshal, not caring about bad breath or anything else. Marshal lowered and returned the kiss, sliding his tongue over Zander’s lips, demanding entrance.

Their tongues tangled as they rocked together. The sensation of Marshal’s dick sliding against his pushed him over the edge, and he couldn’t hold back. He wanted to be kissing Marshal, but their lips had separated, and he was too wrapped up in his orgasm to tug Marshal close again.

When he could draw in a full breath he opened his eyes and found Marshal staring with a look of wonder on his face.

“What?” Zander asked.

“You’re so beautiful when you come. I missed it last night and I had to see you like that this time. Zander, fuck, Zander, I love you so much.”

Marshal dropped low, burying his face against Zander’s shoulder as he shuddered, warmth spreading on Zander’s belly. He smiled to himself, amazed that he was actually here at Wild Bluff with his friends.

When Marshal gained control of himself, he sat up and tugged Zander with him. “Let’s wash then join the rest of the guys for breakfast.”

Zander followed behind Marshal, happy to be with his man. Something had changed in the middle of the night or maybe it was when he woke this morning. The band around his chest seemed looser, his heart brighter, and his mind clearer. When Marshal had found him in the middle of the storm, he’d wondered if he could recover, but now, he knew he could. He would be whole again. He would laugh, and he would smile. It would take time, and maybe some counseling or something, but he could see himself surviving.

They washed quickly and headed into the kitchen. He was holding Marshal’s hand when they stepped into the room. Grant looked up, his smile wide. They were running later than the rest of the guys, and everyone was already there, talking and laughing. When he stepped into the kitchen, someone knocked a small plate off the counter, and it shattered when it hit the hard floor. Everyone froze, their gazes darting to him. He hated that he was so brittle and they all expected every little noise to set him off. But the movie had done it, so he shouldn’t be offended. He’d been through hell and acknowledging he’d been damaged wasn’t accepting weakness. Instead, it was a part of moving forward.

Zander stepped into the room, closer to one of the larger chunks of the broken dish. He picked up a piece of ceramic and then another before he stood. Tucker was there, cleaning up the rest of the big pieces, with Billy sweeping the slivers into a pile. Mike brought out a small vacuum they used for cleanups like this and got rid of the tiniest of splinters. Zander knew he had to say something, but he wasn’t sure how to start.

“Sorry,” Roger said. “I’m all thumbs this morning.”

“No worries,” Zander whispered.

The guys turned back to their earlier conversations but they were muted. He had to speak up, to let them know he wouldn’t break. Duff and Tucker carried plates of eggs, biscuits, sausage, bacon, and pancakes to the table. Everyone was sitting, except for him and Marshal. The guys tried not to look at him, but their gazes slid his way then darted to the floor or the table quickly. He could feel their fear, almost hear their thoughts. They dreaded what would happen with him.

Zander cleared his throat, getting their attention. The weeks he’d spent in captivity had changed him, but he wasn’t so different that he couldn’t address his crew.

“I know this place is for guys who are going out on missions and I…” He drew in a deep breath, trying to shake off the tightness and fear filling him as everyone stared up at him. He didn’t look away, instead he let his gaze sweep over every man in their crew then settle on Grant. “I don’t want to leave, not yet.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Grant said.

“I won’t be useful and I-I just… Please, let me stay,” Zander begged.

“We want you here,” Roger said.

Tucker jumped up and came to stand in front of him. “I need you to be here, to make sure you’re safe. I’ll never forgive myself for what—”

Zander placed his hand on Tucker’s lips, stopping his words. He held Tucker’s gaze as he slowly shook his head. “We’re assassins. We know the danger. Any one of us could be killed. What we have here at Wild Bluff is special, and I need to be here, at least for a while longer. But we all know what I went through or worse, could happen every time we go out on a mission. I don’t blame you, Tucker, or Ryan. It’s in the past, and now I’m back.”

“Um, Zander,” Grant said, getting his attention. “I think, you know, once you feel better, you can help out if you want. We always need people on ops, and there’s more we can do with defeating the enemy in the background than what we’re doing now. We’re getting more requests which are less physical in nature. Clients want us to operate more like Anonymous, but they’re afraid to approach the group. They trust us. Well, they don’t know who we are but they want more actions that attack organizations instead of just killing targets. Our focus can change, and we might as well adjust to keep up with what our clients are asking for.”

Zander nodded but the words buzzed in his brain, twisting through him. He had to shake his head to focus on what everyone else was saying. The guys were discussing what Anonymous had done most recently, and how they could have done it better.

“Wait, won’t we have to learn more. I mean, I’m no computer expert,” Zander said.

Everyone turned to stare at him and a chill swept over his shoulder and down his back. Marshal pulled out a chair beside Davis and Zander sat. Marshal settled in next to him. No one spoke as they waited for Grant to continue talking, but Duff cleared his throat and began speaking.

“Actually, the stuff you learned in training—you know, like how we break in and clear out bank accounts, delete videos, and other stuff—you already know what to do.”

“We can take some time to do more training. The ranch has enough extra money to send you all to classes if we need to,” Grant said.

“So, I could stay here and still work but never leave the ranch to do a mission?” Zander asked.

Grant nodded then turned his attention to the rest of the guys. “We can shift our focus, if you all like. We will always get requests for missions in the field, but I would like to explore other projects that are less physical and more cyber-based.”

Conversation erupted as the guys started discussing the possibilities. Marshal grabbed a plate for Zander and spooned some eggs on it, along with some bacon.

“Do you want a biscuit?” Marshal asked.

Zander nodded as he tried to listen to the guys talking around him. Marshal put the plate in front of him then began assembling one for himself. This was home. Grant was being nice, or maybe they really did have work they could do that wasn’t physical. If he had the opportunity to do more computer work, he would gladly take it.

Tucker turned and their gazes met. There was sadness in his eyes but hope too. Zander's life would never be the same, but he was back, he had his lover, and he still had his friends. They were a resourceful group and could make it through anything, even if it meant changing what they did as a unit.

Chapter Seventeen

Living in Houston was weird. The shadow of NASA seemed to loom over him as he went about his day. Once the military type, astronaut space-geeks found out he’d lost his leg, they'd started asking questions, assuming he worked at NASA, too. He didn’t, and he was tired of talking about his service and his leg, saying the same thing over and over again about how he’d lost it. He’d heard way too many stories of what happened to guys, friends, lovers, sons or daughters.

He took to staying in his apartment, going out only for food or beer. After a few weeks of confinement, he started playing on his computer. He'd learned tricks, like hiding his IP address, and disguising who he was. After a few months, he’d started seriously looking into Anonymous and what they were doing. He wasn’t convinced their motives were pure. There were so many places they could take down, so many groups they could destroy but didn’t.

Slowly, he adjusted his life so he slept most of the day then went online at night to watch, slipping into hidden spaces, finding backdoors for companies, spying on people as they went about their dirty little business of hacking, slamming, and stealing. When he saw a hacker trying to slam their way into a bank, he stopped them.

Moving in the shadows of cyberspace allowed him to be just another guy. Someone who didn’t have an artificial leg, or wounds, or any of the other crap that had happened to him. He could just be, and that felt amazing.

One day, he had some weird realization that he hadn’t spoken to another human in weeks other than to pay for beer and food so he went out. That had been a huge mistake. None of the guys were Matthew. He could have pulled out his phone and replied to Matthew’s emails, given his phone number, and he would be chatting with Matthew right then. But he couldn’t face reality. Being in the bar, staring at strangers who didn’t know him, didn’t know what he’d been through, and honestly he didn’t want them to know, felt wrong.

Jazz made his way home, wondering if it would have been better if he’d been the one closest to the bomb. Melancholy hit him hard, so he opened up all of Matthew’s emails, reading from the first all the way to the latest. By the time the sun came up, he was convinced he should send Matthew a quick note, telling his old lover he was ending it all before heading to one of the tall bridges and jumping off. It wasn’t worth the pain to keep on going, but he couldn’t submit to his dark demons, not yet. Part of him needed to hear that Matthew was okay, that he’d moved on. So far, it didn’t sound like Matthew had, but Jazz still hoped his ex would give up his quest for them to be together again and just allow what they had to die. With Jazz being damaged like he was, they could never have a relationship again.

Chapter Eighteen

Matthew had spent the night searching for information on a tablet he’d found in an office. He'd wondered if they’d left it out on purpose, then he didn’t care as the hours went on. They’d allowed him to sit in on a disciplinary action for an operative. There was evidence the guy was a double agent, but Matthew had found out the agency planned to kill his family. That was wrong, and Matthew wouldn’t stand for it. With the tablet, it took him a while to hide his activity, but he’d finally managed and broken into the CIA’s computers, halting the order to execute the man’s family. He was almost done with his task when the lights popped on and the door opened. Fear filled Matthew, but he played it calm, acting like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“Miller, come with me.”

He stood on shaky legs, afraid of what would happen as he followed behind the instructor he knew as Mitch. No words were spoken on their way down the hall. He wondered if he was about to be disciplined, or worse, hurt.

They stepped into a large office with delicious smelling food set up on the table. Matthew looked at the trays of sandwiches, meat, cookies, and fruit then moved to the other side of the room, deciding that taking anything they had to offer would be a mistake.

“Congratulations, you passed your final test. We were never going to kill Bennett’s family, but your showing compassion is part of the profile your employers asked for. Eat, you must be hungry. You’ll be flown to your new assignment in a few hours.”

“I’ll pass on the food,” Matthew said. He didn’t trust this man and he didn’t trust that this facility hadn't poisoned or drugged the food on the table. With other people around, eating what was served, he didn’t have an issue consuming what was placed before him. But here in Mitch’s office, he didn’t have confidence he wouldn’t be dead if he took a bite.

Mitch rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s good. Seriously.” Mitch shrugged. “Okay, you tell me what to eat and I will.”

“The chicken strips smell delicious,” Matthew said.

Mitch moved to the table, cut a piece of chicken, and placed it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, never once turning away from Matthew.

“Where am I going?” Matthew asked as he picked up the other end of the chicken strip Mitch had eaten from.

“I have no clue. You’ll be flown to another location. After that, I assume you’ll be picked up and taken to your final destination. They don’t ask questions and neither do I. So, that’s all I know.”

Matthew nodded and picked up another chicken strip. “What about this one?”

“Really, Miller, a lot of money was spent on your training, and if we kill you, we'd have to answer a ton of questions about why we didn’t deliver what we promised. The people you’ll be working for are scarier than anything the U.S. government can come up with. I know to never mess with you guys because it’s not worth it.”

“Many of us come through here?” Matthew asked.

“There’s been a few. I never ask questions, it’s not worth it.”

“Why?” Matthew was curious what allowed Mitch to operate and not demand to know more. He knew he would get curious and ask questions.

Mitch laughed, his eyes brightening as he shook his head. “They pay me very well. I’ll be able to retire to an incredibly sweet location without a care in the world.”

“Aren’t you worried someone will find out where you’re going and I don’t know, maybe take you out? You know so many diverse people.”

Mitch shook his head. “Diverse, that’s one way of putting it. No, I’m not worried. I know how to cover my tracks. I’m very careful.”

Matthew nodded and picked up a strawberry. He was about to put the fruit into his mouth when the door opened. Being at this training facility had made him jumpy. Heck, he'd been jumpy before he’d come, but now it was almost out of control.

“His things.” The guy set down Matthew’s bags before he turned left the room.

“Are you ready to leave?” Mitch asked.

“I guess so.”

Matthew was wary, but he boarded the helicopter and then a plane, adhering to their rules, wearing a blindfold when they asked. He knew they were taking him to Colorado. That much was easy to figure out. When they landed in Colorado Springs at the military base, he was driven to the public airport and led inside. The guy who’d traveled with him gave him a quick wave then walked away. Matthew turned around and spied one of the guys he’d met a month before. The man was wearing a ball cap pulled low and had on a wig, but Matthew had been looking for them so it was easy to recognize this guy. He followed blue-eyes through the parking lot to a black truck. Blue-eyes opened the passenger door and turned to face him.

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Hi, is Jazz ready to join us?” He’d risked everything, done the training, even attempted to rescue an imaginary family, all because he really wanted to see Jazz.

“I don’t know. You’ll need to ask him,” blue-eyes said.

“What? He doesn’t know about this?” Fear twisted through Matthew. What if Jazz decided not to join this group? He was torn, unsure if Jazz would even listen to him. Of course, they’d told him he would have access to Jazz, not that they would prepare Jazz to join the group.

“We’ve been watching him, and he’s pretty much the same as he was a month ago.”

Matthew blew out a breath and pressed his lips together. “Okay, but what can I call you? Blue-eyes doesn’t seem very professional.”

Blue-eyes laughed then shook his head. “I’ve been called worse. I’m Grant, and this is Roger.” Grant pointed to the backseat, and Matthew tried to hide his surprise. He’d missed the guy sitting in the back of the truck, and that scared him a bit. He’d been so focused on finally seeing Jazz he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hi, Roger, I’m Matthew Miller. So where is Jazz?”

“We’re flying to Houston in about an hour but we’re going private. So get in, and we’ll head to the other side of the airport where the private desk is located.”

Matthew wished Jazz was already with them, but he hadn’t really expected Jazz to be there when he got back. He'd just wanted his man so badly. He slid into the front seat of the truck and strapped in, turning to face Grant as soon as he'd taken his seat. “I want to say that the final test, the one where you had me fight to save that family—that was almost cruel.”

“We had to see if you’d blindly follow or ask questions.”

“So if Jazz wants to join, and I become one of you, I get to question your authority?” Matthew didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” Roger said behind him. “Our group does some stuff that would scare the crap out of most people, but we always evaluate what we are doing.”

“So like, when my friends were blown to bits by a street level bomb, if I would have been with this group, you would have listened to my concerns about not having someone on the roof?”

Grant nodded. “Yes. Sometimes bad stuff happens. You saw that with our guy you found in Syria. We operate on a different level. I can’t tell you everything, not until you make a decision and become an operating partner, but your concerns would have been fully explored. And we probably would have never gone into a street blind like you were asked to do.”

“Can I ask you another question?” Matthew watched as Grant lifted his brows then nodded. “These trucks, how do you keep secret if they’re registered to you?”

“They aren’t. They’re registered through a company that isn’t connected to any of us. Your car is gone. We’ll put the money in an account for you, but you can’t own searchable property like a car. If anyone sees our truck, they could search for our license plates but never really find us. We also have heavy security. When we enter the facility, the vehicles are scanned and an alarm goes off if they aren’t one of ours. We keep a tight reign on who goes in and out of our place. Few know about us, but those who need to get in contact with us find us.”

Matthew stayed silent as they pulled into the parking lot for the private terminal. Grant opened the glove box and handed him a passport. He opened it, seeing his photo but the name wasn’t his. He lifted his brow and dipped his head to the passport.

“David Bonnet?”

“You can’t travel under your real name now, not often. We have a few identities already made up for you. If you stay, you’ll be making up more.”

“I just flew out here under my real name.”

“Yes, the military knows you’re here. They won’t be able to track you to Houston, though. Plus, we kind of wanted to fuck with a few of the guys who’ve been trying to figure out more about us.”

Matthew’s gaze stayed on Grant’s as he lifted his brows. “Who would that be?”

“Colonel Walsh and General Kuenzier. They both have been digging around. We put a stop to their meddling last week. This is just a slap in the face to them,” Grant said.

“Oh.” They loaded onto another plane, this one as luxurious as the government plane he’d flown on earlier. Grilled chicken with broccoli was served about an hour into the flight. He was starving and noticed both Roger and Grant not waiting to eat. He took a bite, wondering when he’d become so paranoid. Maybe it was the session he’d taken on poisons during his training. He’d been unaware how easy it was to off another person with simple foods and just a few added ingredients.

After eating, both Roger and Grant took a nap, but he was too keyed up to sleep. He was about to see Jazz. How would Jazz respond? This would either kill him or make his day. He prayed Jazz didn’t kick him out the second he opened the door because there was so much they needed to talk about and so much he wanted to say.