Masked Read online

  “Says the guy who just got his rocks off by digging a blade into Stock’s scrotum?”

  “Says the guy who now shares a bed with his sniper partner?”

  “And the hottest wahine in all the Hawaiian islands?”

  Damn it. Fucker had a point. Tait and Kellan’s unique relationship with their woman—yes, their woman, as in sharing the wealth in all ways imaginable—wasn’t one Dan easily understood, though it was far from his place to point judgmental fingers. The three of them were obviously past the point of happy about the arrangement, and Tait deserved the joy after everything Stock and his partner, Ephraim Lor, took from the man.

  And didn’t that bring everything full circle once again?

  Tait Bommer, the one guy on the planet who’d been craving Stock’s head on a platter more than Dan, was now the guy who’d turned peace, love, and Ed Sheeran on him to all the sickest degrees—an anomaly so insane, it was a see-it-to-believe-it thing. Okay, so it had been over a year since Luna died because of Stock and Lor’s terrorist plot. And, by all accounts, Lani Kail was even better for Tait than Luna was, a truth even Luna herself “agreed” with, Bommer had revealed with a cryptic smile.

  Fuck.

  He was actually using words like “cryptic” in the same sentence as Tait Bommer.

  And maybe the earth was flat now too. And aliens were lurking in the stratosphere, ready to probe everyone like extraterrestrial kinksters.

  But the cosmic issues had to go on hold for now. Shitstorm ahead. Brace for impact.

  The second Tait hooked the car off Highway 159 and onto the access road to the ranch, the glow from hundreds of white party lights nearly made it possible for Tait to cut the car’s headlights. The bulbs hung were suspended across one of the ranch’s rustic picnic groves, with smaller lights wound around the supporting tree trunks. Old-fashioned oil lanterns rested on the banquet tables, which surrounded a wooden dance floor accented by big barrels brimming with sunflowers and wedding-type foof. It was a Wild West-themed wedding with all the gussy extras, and even from here, laughter filtered out from it on the wind.

  There was a day, not too long ago, when Dan would’ve found such a sight enchanting. Hell, he’d probably have even conjured wistful thoughts of what his own wedding reception would be like. Now, the extra light was just an aid for illuminating his phone screen.

  “I’ve got cell reception again,” he told Tait. “But I really want to lie to you about that.”

  Tait cocked a brow. “You only gotta dial three little numbers, dude. Nine, one, and one.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s not one of the numbers.” His jaw clenched as Dan snorted. “Okay, do you really want to go there, man? To know his blood is on your hands—for the rest of your life? Before you give me the amen, brother on that, listen to the guy who lines up sniper shots for a living.” He exhaled through his nose and shook his head. “That crap sticks to your soul, Colton. It follows you—and not in the good ways.”

  Dan gripped the roof harder before retorting, “Right. Because I wouldn’t know anything about ‘crap’ that follows a guy around.” Like half a face full of burn scars.

  “Just make the call, dickhead,” Bommer growled.

  As he guided the Escalade toward a spot at the back of the parking lot, a voice crackled through in Dan’s ear.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  He peeked once more at Stock. The guy drooped his pasty, sweaty face. Now you know what it’s like to wish you were already in hell, motherfucker.

  “Hello? Hello? Do you have an emergency?”

  “How about a sack of shit who won’t die?”

  Tait swore under his breath before demanding, “Give me that, goddamnit.”

  As he yanked the phone away to give the operator real instructions, a commotion erupted at the other end of the parking lot. Okay, maybe not a “commotion”—but enough of a stir to lift even Stock’s head for a second. That was the kind of effect Shay Bommer had on the air, anywhere he went. To be fair, he couldn’t help it. Shay was an actual force of nature, genetically altered as a child by one of Stock’s many “business partners,” so his “animal side” was his animal side. As the guy stalked across the pavement, his massive body strained at the confines of his white shirt, ivory tuxedo vest, and tailored dress denims. His new bride was just a few steps behind, cobalt boots kicking from beneath her lacy wedding gown.

  Dan exited the car and then leaned against the hood. Might as well act relaxed, even if his bloodstream wasn’t in sync. “Congratulations, you two. Sorry I had to borrow your best man for a while—but I’ve returned him with a gift.”

  Tait jerked up his head, shooting over a fresh glower. “E kala mai iaʻu,” he muttered into the phone. “Just one moment, my friend.” He looked fast to Shay. “It’s not a gift, brother. Stay back, and for fuck’s sake, keep Zoe away. She’s in no condition to see this.”

  Dan tossed his head back, barking a laugh. “Really, man? You don’t know your own sister-in-law better?”

  “Keep me away from what?” Sure enough, Zoe Chestain-Bommer bolted forward like Tait had lassoed her. “And what do you mean, ‘no condition’? I’m pregnant, not schizo.”

  “Don’t go near that one,” Dan warned Tait. “Not with a hundred-foot pole.”

  Fortunately, it took three of Zoe’s steps to match one of Shay’s. “No way, dancer.” He caught her by the elbow in time, tucking her behind him. “Not until I’ve played the full shell game on this first.”

  “Qué?” The little Latina’s eyebrows arched. Technically, the word was a question. Not-so-technically, she’d told her new husband oh no, you didn’t.

  Shay received backup in the form of his groomsmen, consisting of Rhett Lange and Rebel Stafford, both still serving with the First SFG and instrumental in saving Shay’s ass on that last off-books mission. They were joined by Ghid Preston, the walking rhino of a man who was passionately devoted to Shay and Tait’s mother, Melody Bommer. It actually surprised Dan that Melody wasn’t right behind—

  Ding, ding, ding. Two seconds later, Melody Bommer appeared, as elegant as Ghid was rough in a figure-flattering dress that matched Zoe’s blue boots. Behind her was Zoe’s sister, Ava, who’d gotten hitched last New Year’s to one of the finest SFG operators Dan knew, Ethan Archer. Too bad Archer wasn’t hanging with her now. Though the man’s temper took longer to flare than most of the guys Shay hung with, he’d also be the kind not to fling fault for running a basic off-the-books revenge fantasy, given the means and the money for it. Dan needed such an advocate about now.

  Instead, Ava’s companion was one of Zoe’s best friends, El Browning, who’d switched out her long red hair for a blond, wedding-appropriate updo. The look was good for her, but that didn’t stop Dan’s gut from twisting at her arrival.

  Where El went, Brynn usually followed.

  Brynn. Who’d been there through so much of the last eleven months. Who’d tolerated his bitterness and anger and impatience. Who’d sneaked him fast food in the hospital, sat with him through countless old war movies, and even taken him on his first trip in public after the scars had healed—as much as they would. And yes, she’d even been there when he needed to relieve his tension…in other ways.

  Who deserved so much more than he’d given her in return—but had staunchly refused to acknowledge that fact.

  Until now.

  As the woman walked up behind her two friends, looking as gorgeous as a princess in the cobalt satin fitted perfectly to her lithe figure, one distinct message was written across her face.

  She’d finally seen the light.

  Had realized just how fucked up he really was.

  Ohhh, yeah. Her glare told him everything. Disbelief, disappointment, and hurt raced across her lips and tightened the corners of her eyes. Tension clamped her bare shoulders and made its way down to both clenched fists.

  “Hey there, gorgeous.” It was his regular greeting. When he coupled it with what he
could muster of a smile, the woman usually dissolved like butter in a sauce pan.

  Not tonight.

  “You’re here.”

  Her tone conveyed what the words didn’t. You’re here—but were supposed to be four hours ago. You’re here—dressed in field mission gear that’s splattered with blood instead of the tuxedo I bought for you on my dancer’s salary. You’re here—after letting all my calls and texts go unanswered for two days.

  “I am.” Lame. Ass. But what the hell else made sense?

  “Why?” Once more, tone that implied meaning. Why did you even bother?

  “My question exactly.” As Zoe stomped her foot, the asymmetrical angles of her foofy skirts swayed, hiding the slight baby bump beneath. “Dan the Man claims there’s a present involved, but Tait the wuss says I’m too delicate to see it.”

  Tait jutted his chin away from the phone. “The wuss who’s now your brother-in-law—which means you’re as delicate as I say, damn it.”

  “That so?” Her dark-blue nails stood out against the cream lace as she cocked both hands to her hips. “News flash, cabrón. You’re not in the islands anymore. And I’m not—”

  “Zoe,” Shay warned.

  “Do. Not. ‘Zoe.’ Me. We stood in front of that minister and agreed we wouldn’t hold any secrets from each other. That we would share everything. You need a refresher course on the definition of sharing now, Mr. Bommer? Because it sure as hell does not inclu—”

  “Holy fuck.” Shay’s utterance sliced her short. He peered again inside the Escalade and then lurched back, a guy who’d just seen a ghost. And a zombie too. “What the hell? How the hell?” He hammered a frown at Tait and then Dan. “This had to be off-books. And not cheap.”

  Everyone’s gaze reflected the same curiosity—except for Tait’s. He scowled, seeming to anticipate what Dan was about to say.

  “Colton Steel’s been doing well this year.” Dan smirked and crossed his ankles. “And let’s just say this was a hell of a lot more fun than buying another Lambo.”

  Shay shook his head. “I don’t know whether to shoot you or kiss you, spook man.”

  Tait grimaced. “There’s a visual I never needed.”

  “You never needed?” Dan rejoined.

  The guy-bonding respite was enjoyed for two more seconds. His gut was shoved back into the meat grinder as Brynn stepped around, approaching him with tight lips and folded arms. Her raspy whisper was just as much a spleen-twister. “Where have you been, Dan?”

  He met her gaze directly. It wasn’t easy, knowing exactly what she was forced to take in as he did—but at this point, he at least owed her his honesty. “In a lot of places I couldn’t answer the phone. A lot of places you probably shouldn’t know about, sweetheart.”

  Her forehead furrowed. Her eyes went dark. “You don’t say.”

  The gut grinder cranked higher. Who knew it had a mince setting?

  Damn it.

  It had never been his intention to hurt her like this—especially not to drag her this far into his darkness. When they’d first met all those months ago in Zoe’s living room, the attraction had been instant—but they’d also been living in a bubble. They’d thought they could go after the bad guys and emerge unscathed. They’d thought they were superheroes in plain clothes, invincible and unstoppable. And after the fire, Brynn had just kept thinking the same thing. She agreed to ignore his monster face…if he ignored the dark preferences of his sexuality.

  Like the messed-up shit he was, he’d agreed. Had even accepted the distortion of his face as karmic payback for the dark desires of his mind and body, indulged over the years in select BDSM dungeons, and now maybe the universe was realigned in that regard too. Maybe now he wouldn’t crave the high of taking a woman to the edge of her limits, physically and psychologically. Maybe now he’d look like a monster but have the sexual needs of a normal man. And maybe, one day far away, he’d be able to settle down with a normal woman, just like Brynn. Maybe she’d be that woman.

  But that had been an illusion too. His sorry dick still wanted what it did, and Brynn had made it clear she wasn’t wired that way.

  So maybe he was just a depraved fuck who deserved what fate had dished out.

  Yeah, even the woman who edged away from him, shaking her head slowly. “You don’t say,” Brynn repeated, as if hoping to gain strength from it. That in itself was wrong. So wrong. He should be her strength. That so wasn’t happening either. And likely never would.

  He was still a messed-up shit. Only now, without any bubble.

  Shay, still gaping in shock, was distracted long enough for Zoe to race forward. Tait’s protesting bellow, as well as her husband’s attempt to hold her back, were too late. The little brunette jerked open the Escalade’s door.

  “Caramba!” she shrieked.

  “Holy crap!” El seconded.

  Brynn joined her friends but didn’t say a word. She stared, still tucked in against herself, as Stock let out a loud grunt. From his position at the front of the car, Dan couldn’t tell if the guy was terrified, pissed, or both. Not that it mattered. Not that the shreds of his gut would magically heal, even if he strutted back and really finished flaying the asshole—a craving he fought harder with every passing minute.

  A reward for the self-control came in the oddest form he could imagine.

  Again, before anyone could hold her back, Zoe stomped forward. Grabbed the frame of the car door opening in order to balance herself—as she rammed the heel of one cobalt cowboy boot into the bridge of Stock’s nose.

  “Woooo.” El pumped a fist. “Oh, my God, Zo. Awesome! I heard his bones crunch and everything!”

  “Shit,” Tait muttered.

  “Fuck.” Shay pinched his nose.

  “Damn.” Dan snickered. Not even a censuring glare from Brynn quelled him. Why fight for a sinking ship? Tait was right; the woman was one of the best things that had come along in his life—but maybe he simply wasn’t meant to have nice things. It was a damn idiot’s game to continue thinking otherwise.

  “Oops.” Zoe swung a wide, innocent gaze at her husband. “Look, papi. The desgraciado fell down, right on his face. What a shame.”

  Melody high-fived her for that—on her way to the opening. “I’m next.”

  “No, you’re not.” Ghid roped a burly arm around her waist and dragged her six feet backward.

  “Goddamnit!” She beat at his meaty chest. “Don’t you dare deprive me of this, Ghid. That monster has to pay for the evil he dragged into my life. Into yours.” She drove a glare at Shay and Tait. “And yours!”

  “And we’ve all overcome it.” Ghid braced her shoulders, making the order beneath his words clear. “Become better for it, even with all our battle wounds.” Logical progression after that was a traded stare with Shay. Nobody in the circle needed interpretation. They all knew about the heinous “experiments” Ghid and Shay had endured at the hands of Stock’s business partner, Homer Adler—and the incision scars that riddled both their bodies because of them. “Today isn’t a day for killing—”

  “Killing?” Zoe’s head jerked up. She whipped her gaze, now sapphire bright, back to her husband. “Could we get away with that? Seriously? If we were quick about it—”

  “No!” Shay shouted it along with Tait, Ghid, Rhett, and Rebel. Dan was the only abstention.

  “Are you crazy?” The concurring growl came from Brynn, who whirled from Dan to advance on her friend. “Zo, would you listen to yourself?”

  “She’s sorta right, honey,” El said. “It is your wedding day.”

  “And you have a condition.” Tait stabbed a finger in the direction of Zoe’s belly.

  “Ay. All right, all right!” As Zoe barked it, sirens wailed across the valley. Red-and-white lights careened off a pair of emergency vehicles, closing in on the ranch at a NASCAR pace.

  “Thank fuck for small miracles.” Rebel hiked up his shirtsleeves, exposing his exotically tattooed forearms. He stepped over, roping Shay under one arm and Zoe
under the other. “All right, you two, a few hundred people are over there because of you. Go forth and be charming. Rhett and I have this covered.” He nodded toward Tait. “That goes for you too, T-Bomb. Stop moping. That’s Colton’s job now.”

  Tait clawed a hand through his hair. “I need a fucking beer. And a dance with my woman.”

  “Just a dance?” Shay waggled his brows at his brother but reached for Zoe.

  “Easy, papi.” Zoe giggled, though the sound was still strained. “It’s not time for the honeymoon yet.”

  “It is when you get all feisty and want to kill people.”

  His stab at make-love-not-war was lost on his bride, who gazed longingly at the car once more. “It’s a hell of a lot more than ‘want.’”

  “Zoe.” He coupled the warning with a jerk at the small of her back. “Let it go, tiny dancer. Please.”

  “Because you have?”

  He huffed. “Do we have to do this right—”

  “Because you don’t still wake up in sweats from the nightmares of what that hijueputa did to you? Because I’ll never forget walking into that room in Adler’s lab and seeing him standing next to the bed they’d strapped you to, locking you down like the breeding stud they’d reduced you to? Because it tore my soul apart to see you drugged, cut up, and—”

  Shay cupped her face in both hands. “It’s behind us now, baby girl. Don’t sacrifice our joy on the altar of hating him.”

  “Great minds.” Tait jerked a thumb toward Dan. “Same logic I tried on the spook earlier.”

  Shay snorted. “I see how well that went.”

  “Stock’s intestines aren’t decorating the back seat, are they?”

  Shay’s brows jumped. “Point taken.”

  Dan’s gaze was snagged by the approving slant of Zoe’s lips. “You simply pulled the wrong member of the wedding party away, Colton. I would’ve gladly helped you turn that cabrón’s guts into vulture food.”

  “Enough.”

  Shay snarled it before smacking Zoe’s backside with so much force, there was no doubt about his intent. Obi-Wan, the Dom is strong in this one. Dan had known that much about Shay for a while, though it was clear Tait hadn’t. The guy gawked at his brother with new awareness. Shay flared a glare in return before pivoting back to his bride, who’d turned the texture of putty. They all watched as Zoe stood on tiptoe to whisper something in Shay’s ear. He nodded and murmured, “Of course you may. But make it fast.”