Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) (3 page)

Kellan paused, his normally unshakeable demeanor sounding like someone had taken a whack at it with a tire iron. “Do you think you can sit on her and just make sure she’s okay ’til I can get there tonight? Kylie’s tough, and I’ve got her holed up pretty tight off the grid…”

Devon frowned, running a hand over his dark blond high and tight. “But?”

“But she’s my kid sister, and you’re the nearest resident badass,” Kellan said. “Fagan sounds like a nasty son of a bitch. I’d feel better knowing you’ve got eyes on her until I can get there.”

“Then I guess I’d better get eyes on her ASAP.” Devon tossed the sheet off his hips, skinning into the pair of jeans he’d left on top of his duffel at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks, man.” Relief marked his buddy’s words, but Devon didn’t even break stride in the search for his bruised and battered work boots. Everything he did, he did full throttle. Plus, he owed Kellan, and not a little.

And since Devon’s biggest fuck-up had nearly cost both their lives, the least he could do was get his ass out of bed and prove his worth by looking after the guy’s little sister.

“No sweat,” Devon said, covering his shrug first with a white T-shirt, then his shoulder holster. Hell, he had a sister, too. As tough as Kellan’s might be, Devon got the guy’s need to look out for his family. “I’m awake, and you need backup. What’s Kylie’s location?”

Kellan released a slow breath over the phone line. “She stopped at the El Monaco Motel about an hour outside of Grant’s Pass, room 202. She’s driving a red Mustang with California plates. I told her not to open the door for anyone, no matter what.”

Easy enough. “I’ll head out there, see what I can see.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“You give her a code word so she’ll know I’m a friendly?” The last thing Devon needed was to have Kylie panic—or worse yet, run—in a case of mistaken identity.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d get you, but tell her you’re there to deliver the jelly donuts. That’s my code word, so she’ll know you’re solid.”

Under different circumstances, Devon would be tempted to give his buddy a ration of shit over his choice of code words. But they had a job to do, someone to protect, so this shit would have to wait. “Copy that.”

“Her cell reception’s pretty crappy, but I’ll try her back to let her know you’re coming. And Dev?”

“Yeah?” he asked, switching to his Bluetooth device so he could use both hands on the job they were meant for.

“Do me a favor and watch your six, would you?” Kellan asked. “On the off chance Fagan gets lucky enough to find her, he won’t hesitate to hurt her. Or worse.”

For the first time in ages, Devon let loose with a smile, triple checking the clip in his SIG before turning to get his backup nine millimeter from its hidey hole under the bathroom sink.

“Trust me, Walker. I’m on my toes. Your sister will be safe with me ’til you get here. I swear it.”

* * * *

The El Monaco Motel turned out to be twenty rooms of stop and fuck about a mile off the highway. After doing a drive-by to give himself a mental map of his surroundings, Devon parked his year-old Dodge Challenger around the back of the place, sinking low in his leather jacket as he walked the perimeter. The motel was a good thirty minutes closer to Surrender than Grant’s Pass, but then again, distance was different all the way out here. The open stretches of land, the way the remote plains and uninhabited landscape unfurled on an endless loop, reminded Devon of a less dusty version of Afghanistan.

If you move, I will kill your friend
.

“Knock it off,” he muttered, shaking himself back to the here and now. Stepping so his shit-kickers remained silent on the cracked pavement, he scanned the space in front of him from left to right. Two-story motel, ten rooms up top, ten ground level. Points of entry open to either an outdoor walkway or the front parking lot itself. Six vehicles in the lot beneath the blue neon sign boasting rooms for the night or by the hour, three pickup trucks, a newer-looking SUV, a rust-encrusted Toyota…

And what do you know? A red Mustang with California plates.

“Hmmm.” Devon moved toward the vehicle, his eyes taking a quick tour of the empty interior. He flattened his palm on the hood, swinging his gaze up to the door marked 202 in cheap, reflective numbers.

The car was still warm. Kylie was here, but she hadn’t been for long.

“Don’t fucking move.”

The purposely roughed-up voice came from behind, accompanied by a steely nudge that told Devon he had his work cut out for him. Goddamn it, now he was going to have to break someone’s kneecaps before the sun even came up.

Bright side was, at least he’d get a workout.

“All right,” Devon said, lifting his hands to feign submission. “Take it easy. I’m just looking for a friend.”

“A friend.” The voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was something weird about the disguised tone, something Devon couldn’t quite place. The figure came into view in the reflection of the windshield for just a split second, but it was all he needed to gain the advantage. Spinning around, he wound his arm over the guy’s above the elbow, capturing both his arm and his weapon in one decisive move as he pulled the guy forward…

And realized he wasn’t a guy at all.

“Ow! Oh my God, get off of me.” The woman’s chest, which was now all sorts of up close and personal with Devon’s, expanded with a brewing scream, and he reached out to clap his free palm over her mouth before she woke the dead.

“Kylie?”

Her wild stare widened, unnaturally blue beneath the neon and moonlight, but she didn’t stop struggling.

Jesus
Christ
. “Kylie, hey, take it easy. Your brother sent me. He—”

Searing pain shot through his middle finger, and he whipped his hand back from her mouth as a low oath launched past his own. “Did you just bite me?”

The venomous look on her face answered his question, lickety split. “My brother didn’t tell me he was sending anybody.”

Damn it, Kellan must not have been able to reach her after he and Devon had gotten off the phone. “Cell service is for shit out here. He called me forty minutes ago, right after he got off the phone with you. I guess he couldn’t get you again.”

“And you just happened to be in the area? I don’t buy it. Who sent you?”

Devon’s brows shot upward. “You do realize that I’m holding
you
, right?” He squeezed the arm he had on lockdown, not hard enough to hurt her, but with enough pressure to punctuate the message.

“I can still scream,” Kylie said, her breasts lifting against the stupid-low neckline of her T-shirt.

His hand—which was bleeding, for fuck’s sake—clapped back over her mouth in an instant. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it six times by now. So do you want to do me a favor and let me help you like I promised Kellan I would? He said he sent me to deliver the jelly donuts.”

At the sound of her brother’s name and the code word he’d clearly given her, she stilled, her dark brows drawing in tight. “How do you know my brother?” she asked as soon as he lifted his fingers again.

“We were in the Army together. Afghanistan. Uruzgan Province. He’s a hell of a sniper.” It was an understatement, but the details worked to keep her from screaming her head off. “I actually met you five years ago in San Fran.”

Half their team had done that R and R together, and they’d only spent one night of that around Kylie, throwing back beers at the local bar where she’d worked. It was a last-ditch to expect she’d remember him.

Even though Devon sure as hell remembered
her
.

“Wait…” Kylie’s eyes took a tour of his face, narrowing to near slits before springing wide. “Devon? Holy shit, is that you?”

He eased his hold on her at the same time her muscles loosened beneath his grasp. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t even recognize you. You look…” She straightened, clapping her mouth shut instead of finishing her sentence. Not that Devon couldn’t fill in the blanks.

He knew damn well how much harder around the edges he’d grown since the last time he’d seen her. Just like he knew damn well what had caused the change.

Kylie wrapped her arms around herself, taking a step back on the pavement. “When is Kellan coming?”

“It’s going to take him at least half a day to get out this far. Until then, I promised to keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need any help,” she said, hiking her chin despite the waver in her voice, and yeah. Whatever paces Fagan had put her through tonight were clearly bad enough to come with an adrenaline letdown. Still, Devon needed to keep her safe, and that wasn’t going to happen if she went around trying to be all Brenda Badass in dark parking lots.

“Uh huh. You’ve obviously cornered the market on assaulting people with—” He paused just long enough to spare a glance at the weapon he’d heard fall to the ground when he’d grabbed her, and seriously? This shit was too good to make up. “A Maglite.”

“It was all I had in my car,” Kylie groused. “Anyway, you’re lucky it’s the smaller version, or I’d have cracked you over the head with it.”

Guess she had a point there. “Do you want to tell me why you’re jumping people in the parking lot of the No-Tell Motel at three a.m.?” Devon asked, releasing her arm and taking a step back to look at her.

“First of all, I didn’t
jump
you. Secondly, you’re the one who was poking around my car.”

Kylie bent down to scoop up the discarded flashlight, stuffing it into her oversized purse and knotting her arms over her chest as she pushed back to standing. A swath of dark hair had fallen loose from the disheveled ponytail at her crown, cloaking her eyes in shadow. Her high cheekbones and lush, sassy mouth were on fully display though, and as Devon slid his gaze lower to take in her skimpy T-shirt, the flat slope of bare skin between the red cotton and the top of her jeans, and her legs that went on for days, he swallowed hard in realization.

Kylie might be Kellan’s little sister, but she was one hundred percent grown woman.

“Okay, fine,” Devon said, blanking the heat in his veins before it reached his cock. Yeah, Kylie was fucking gorgeous, but she was still off-limits, not to mention in danger. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re not locked inside your room like you should be.”

“I…I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I was starting to get the shakes. Kellan’s always harping about how adrenaline screws with your blood sugar, and I knew I wouldn’t be any good if I passed out. I was on my way to the gas station over there because it’s close. But then I saw you messing with my car, and…well, you know the rest.”

Smart girl
. Right up ’til that last part, anyway. “Taking a potshot at a guy you don’t know when you’re at a tactical disadvantage isn’t a very good move.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I get that now.”

Kylie dropped her chin, squeezing her baby blues shut despite her fiery comeback, and aw, hell. She’d obviously been through the wringer tonight. No sense in dragging that out.

“Okay, look. Let’s get you something to eat. Then you can grab some sleep and when your brother gets here tomorrow, we’ll get everything to stand up straight, all right?”

“O-okay,” she said, backpedaling as she added, “Thank you. You know, for coming out here while I wait.”

“No problem.” He tried on a smile to put her at ease, realizing a beat too late that she’d return the favor, and fuuuuuuuck, as tentative as it was, her smile was still a stunner.

Devon nodded, forcing his shit-kickers toward the spotty fluorescents lighting up the gas station half a block away. Christ, he was an asshole of the highest order to think about Kylie’s smile even for a second. He busied himself with surveying the area, but the darkest part of night in the middle of Montana didn’t really offer much by way of riveting shit.

They made it to the Gas and Go without any fanfare, Devon sticking close enough to Kylie’s side to keep her safe while still giving her enough breathing room to keep her calm. He added a large bottle of water to the bag of pretzels she’d plucked from the shelf, giving the clerk a tight smile and a ten spot to cover the bill.

“You need to stay hydrated,” Devon said, handing over the water as they recrossed the threshold to the parking lot. Kylie’s lashes fanned up in surprise, but she cracked the bottle open for a couple of healthy swigs without argument. For the first time since he’d stumbled upon her, Devon noticed the shadows beneath her eyes, the lines of worry etched over her pretty face.

“So do you want to talk about what’s going on here?” Devon asked, although he damn near regretted the question before it was all the way out. She’d witnessed something nobody should ever have to see. She’d probably give her left arm to forget the images that must be burned into her brain.

Just as he opened his mouth for a full retraction, Kylie said, “I guess telling you what’s going on would help, right?”

“It might.” At least, that’s what all the shrinks had told him after his debacle in Afghanistan. Not that he’d taken that little nugget to heart. “But only if you want to.”

Kylie bit her lip, her boots beating out a steady crunch-crunch-crunch against the roadside gravel. “I, uh—I was at work tonight and something…really bad went down.”

Even though Kellan had briefed him on the phone, Devon didn’t interrupt, only nodded. Better to let her tell the whole thing if she was looking to unload some stress.

“I’m a bartender at this place called The Corner Tavern. Or I guess I was, because…” She clutched the bag between her fingers hard enough to make it crinkle. “I…I…my boss always said to keep my nose out of the basement, especially the office, but we ran out of cocktail napkins, and he’s such a pain in the ass when I don’t restock everything before I leave, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but...”

“Kylie.” Devon’s bad-things meter kicked up a notch, but she barreled on, either not noticing his attempt to keep her grounded or not caring.

“I just went down there for a second, you know? For one stupid box of napkins. I must have been in the walk-in when Xavier came in. I didn’t have a clue he was even in the bar until…until…” Her voice bottomed out to a thin whisper as she finished. “Until he shot my boss in the head. Twice.”