Chapter 1 C1

(Prologue)

Finally, he had her cornered. He intended to tear down every last damn obstacle between him and her.

Right now.

For months, she’d succumbed to fears, buried her head in the sand, even lied. He’d tried to be understanding and patient. He’d made mistakes, but damn it, he’d put her first, given her space, been the good guy.

Fuck that. Now that he’d fought his way here, she would see the real him.

One-Mile slammed the door of his Jeep and turned all his focus on the modest white cottage with its vintage blue door. As he marched up the long concrete driveway, his heart pounded. He had a nasty idea how Brea’s father would respond when he explained why he’d come. The man would slam the door in his face; no maybe about that. After all, he was the bad boy from a broken home who had defiled Reverend Bell’s pretty, perfect daughter with unholy glee.

But One-Mile refused to let Brea go again. He’d make her father listen…somehow. Since punching the guy in the face was out of the question, he’d have to quell his brute-force instinct to fight dirty and instead employ polish, tact, and charm—all the qualities he possessed zero of.

Fuck. This was going to be a shit show.

Still, One-Mile refused to give up. He’d known uphill battles his whole life. What was one more?

Through the front window, he spotted the soft doe eyes that had haunted him since last summer. Though Brea was talking to an elderly couple, the moment she saw him approach her porch, her amber eyes went wide with shock.

Determination gripped One-Mile and squeezed his chest. By damned, she was going to listen, too.

He wasn’t leaving without making her his.

As he mounted the first step toward her door, his cell phone rang. He would have ignored it if it hadn’t been for two critical facts: His job often entailed saving the world as people knew it, and this particular chime he only heard when one of the men he respected most in this fucked-up world needed him during the grimmest of emergencies.

Of all the lousy timing…

He yanked the device from his pocket. “Walker here. Colonel?”

“Yeah.”

Colonel Caleb Edgington was a retired, highly decorated military officer and a tough son of a bitch. One thing he wasn’t prone to was drama, so that single foreboding syllable told One-Mile that whatever had prompted this call was dire.

He didn’t bother with small talk, even though it had been months since they’d spoken, and he wondered how the man was enjoying both his fifties and his new wife, but they’d catch up later. Now, they had no time to waste.

“What can I do for you?” Since he owed Caleb a million times over, whatever the man needed One-Mile would make happen.

Caleb’s sons might be his bosses these days…but as far as One-Mile was concerned, the jury was still out on that trio. Speaking of which, why wasn’t Caleb calling those badasses?

One-Mile could only think of one answer. It was hardly comforting.

“Or should I just ask who I need to kill?”

A feminine gasp sent his gaze jerking to Brea, who now stood in the doorway, her rosy bow of a mouth gaping open in a perfect little O. She’d heard that. Goddamn it to hell. Yeah, she knew perfectly well what he was. But he’d managed to shock her repeatedly over the last six months.

“I’m not sure yet.” Caleb sounded cautious in his ear. “I’m going to text you an address. Can you meet me there in fifteen minutes?”

For months, he’d been anticipating this exact moment with Brea. “Any chance it can wait an hour?”

“No. Every moment is critical.”

Since Caleb would never say such things lightly, One-Mile didn’t see that he had an option. “On my way.”

He ended the call and pocketed the phone as he climbed onto the porch and gave Brea his full attention. He had so little time with her, but he’d damn sure get his point across before he went.

She stepped outside and shut the door behind her, swallowing nervously as she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, through the big picture window. Was she hoping her father didn’t see them?

“Pierce.” Her whisper sounded closer to a hiss. “What are you doing here?”

He hated when anyone else used his given name, but Brea could call him whatever the hell she wanted as long as she let him in her life.

He peered down at her, considering how to answer. He’d had grand plans to lay his cards out on the table and do whatever he had to—talk, coax, hustle, schmooze—until she and her father both came around to his way of thinking. Now he only had time to cut to the chase. “You know what I want, pretty girl. I’m here for you. And when I come back, I won’t take no for an answer.”

(The previous Year)

“You okay?” Cutter Bryant, her best friend and pseudo older brother, squeezed her hand as they stepped onto the back patio of his boss’s home.

Brea Bell took in the chaotic summer party—the smoking barbecue, the loud music, the clinking beers, and male laughter booming from his fellow operatives at EM Security Management, none of whom seemed to have brought a date. She was the only woman in the yard, and suddenly every man seemed to turn and focus on her. “A little overwhelmed.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s hot as hellfire tonight, and there’s a lot of testosterone here.” He glanced at the handful of men clustered in conversation across the lawn.

“You tried to tell me.”

“For your own good. But you’re a stubborn thing. Always have been.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Try to have some fun, huh?”

She nodded. “Thanks for inviting me. Daddy has been encouraging me to get out of the house and spread my wings a little.”

But he would never let her spend an evening out with a man he didn’t know well and wholeheartedly approve of. Since Cutter had known her from birth, he was one of the few who fit into that category.

“You need to find your future, Bre-bee. It’s time.”

Cutter was right. She couldn’t simply be the preacher’s dutiful daughter, helping Daddy care for the residents of tiny Sunset, Louisiana, for the rest of her life. She and Cutter had talked about that more than once. Brea agreed…but she didn’t know where to start. Since she enjoyed helping the folks in town look and feel their best, she’d gone to cosmetology school rather than college. Nothing she loved more than contributing, relieving, serving, and assisting others. Their happiness fed her own.

But lately, she’d been fighting a restlessness brewing inside her. A wildness, like the devil was whispering temptation in her ear. Brea didn’t dare answer, no matter how alluring the siren call.

“It is.” She tucked a strand of her long caramel hair behind her ear and peered Cutter’s way. “So your teammates came alone tonight. Does that mean they’re, um…single?”

“All of them, except the bosses.” He slanted her a sideways glance. “You’re not looking to get married right away, are you? There’s more to life than that.”

Sometimes his overprotective nature meant he treated her not just like the younger sister he’d never had, but a girl.

“Of course I know. But I’m almost twenty-two and I’ve been on exactly two dates in my life. I think I’m entitled to want male companionship.”

“Yeah. I just don’t know if this is the best place to look. These men are hardened warriors—special operators, spies, snipers… They have to leave unexpectedly at a moment’s notice. They’ve seen things, done things…”

“You, too. But you’re a defender. A protector. And you’re perfectly wonderful. Some woman will be lucky to have you someday.”

But it wouldn’t be her. Her connection with Cutter was—and always had been—purely platonic. Neither of them wanted their relationship any other way.

“I’m not in any hurry to get married. But, contrary to what you say, I suspect you are. So…” He sighed. “I’ll give you some background before I introduce you around. Remember, I told you that Caleb Edgington formed this team a few years back, then turned it over to his sons? Hunter, his older”—he pointed to the hard-jawed man grilling burgers—“is a former SEAL. He’s married to Kata, who’s probably in the kitchen with his brother’s wife. Logan, his younger, is also a former SEAL. He’s the guy at the cooler watching Tara, the redhead, through the window with that dirty leer.”

Brea was relieved to learn she wasn’t the only woman here. “And the others?”

“Hunter and Logan’s stepbrother, Joaquin Muñoz, is former NSA. He’s the tall one with his back to the fence in the circle of men across the yard. His wife, Bailey, is a ballerina, but she’s on tour right now. Josiah Grant, the buff guy next to him, is former CIA. The other two, Zy and Trees, are tight. They served together in some government program I’m not privy to know about.” Cutter rolled his eyes. “Trees’ real name is Forest Scott but everyone calls him Trees because—”

“He’s incredibly tall.” Brea blinked. “Wow.”

“Exactly. He’s a cyber security specialist and he’s exceptionally good at it. And his buddy Zy—”

“Looks a lot like Zac Efron. The grown-up version, not the Disney kid.”

Cutter laughed. “Which is why he’s nicknamed Zyron. His real name is Chase Garrett, but around here he doesn’t answer to that. Besides being our class clown, he’s our demolitions guy. He loves blowing stuff up.”

“That’s a little scary, but…” Brea let out a breath. She’d come here to get out of her sheltered bubble and meet people. “You should probably introduce me to everyone on your team.”

Cutter hesitated. “Yeah. I’m just going to warn you… We’re missing one, Pierce Walker. I don’t know if the bastard will show tonight. He’s a loner, and you’re not missing much. But if he turns up, avoid him, you hear me? He’s no good.”