Forever Notorious: Forever Bluegrass #11 Page 9

  Abby’s heart thudded and then broke. What he said made sense, but she didn’t want to hear it. She loved her job. “But—” Abby looked back up at him. Dylan stood firm and unwavering as his hand softened, and he slipped his fingers between hers as if they were holding hands. “You knew you’d lose your job, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Dylan told her as the cold air from the open cargo gate blew into the plane where soldiers got to work unloading.

  “Why would you do that? From what little I saw, you could be a major in a matter of years and then a general in the Army Special Operations Command. You have what it takes to lead, Dylan. It’s not too late. Head back to your team. I can take care of myself. I have been for years.”

  She felt his fingers tighten against hers as he stepped so close she had to tilt her head back to see his face. A face that was very serious at the moment. “I knew the risks to my career and I did it anyway.”

  “Why?” Abby asked on an exhalation of breath.

  “Because you’re worth it. I never thought twice about it. You mean more to me than any job. You always have and you always will.”

  Abby saw the sincerity in his eyes, but she also saw the way his jaw flexed. He was worried she didn’t feel the same. “Dylan. I—”

  “What is taking you so long? I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

  Abby leaned past Dylan’s wide shoulders to see Jackson Parker standing with his hands in the pockets of his black winter coat. Next to him, Talon Bainbridge stood with an even thicker coat on. Talon was half Australian, and even though he’d been in the United States for most of his life, he still craved the heat. He was a mountain of a man in regular clothes, but add a large puffy down jacket and he looked like a cross between a mountain and a blob. On the other hand, Lucas Sharpe, the last member of their team, stood tall and lean in shorts and a T-shirt. His shirt had a polar bear wearing swim trunks on it. Abby shook her head at the youngest member from northern Alaska.

  Abby slipped on her coat as Dylan did the same. “The truth, Abby. From now on.”

  She looked up at him as he effortlessly lifted their bags. “Okay. The truth.” Abby shivered, and it wasn’t from the freezing temperature. It was because she was scared. Shoot a bad guy, rescue a hostage . . . no problem. But she’d spent years hiding who she really was. Could she really open herself up to Dylan?

  “I think I feel my balls in my stomach,” Talon complained in his mix of Australian and American accents. “I thought Kentucky was part of the South.”

  “It’s twenty-eight degrees; man up,” Lucas teased as he punched the thick down coat. “If you can find a man hidden somewhere in that puffer coat, that is.”

  Talon rolled his eyes and Jackson shook his head. “Just remember, you are the ones who requested us to assist.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way,” Lucas said. “We were on call, and it’s much nicer to be here than on call. You never get to have any fun then. We always have fun here. It’s like our second home.”

  Talon nodded, but it was hard to tell for sure since he pulled up his fur-trimmed hood.

  “Everyone is gathered,” Jackson said, ignoring his buddies’ antics. “The second we got into town off schedule, they knew something was up.”

  “Are we meeting at the security building on Desert Farm?” Dylan asked. Desert Farm was Mo and Dani’s. Mo had gifted Ahmed a house on the farm when he’d returned and that’s where Abby had been born and raised.

  “Nope, the Blossom Café,” Jackson said before sliding into the driver’s seat of the SUV. Talon got into the other front seat and Abby was squished in the middle of the backseat between Lucas and Dylan.

  “We need to keep this quiet,” Abby said, almost frantically. “No one can know about Dylan.”

  “I’m not from Keeneston, but even I know that’ll never happen,” Lucas said with a grin as if it were funny.

  “It’s not funny,” Abby snapped, her voice escalating.

  Dylan put a steady hand on her leg. “It’s okay, Abby,” he said softly to her.

  “No, it’s not okay. I messed up my operation, and now you’re going to have to transfer out of the job you love because you’re protecting me. That is not okay.”

  “Whoa,” Jackson said, getting into the conversation. “None of us is getting transferred because we look after you.”

  “Not you, but he is,” Abby said, realizing she’d said too much.

  “We’ve worked with Delta Force before. I guess we’re not supposed to mention it because it was on American soil,” Jackson said. “But, Abby, you should know more than anyone that the legal limits on the military’s ability to act domestically have been eased over the years. Especially when dealing with counterterrorism.”

  “FBI Hostage Rescuers aren’t classified,” Abby reminded him.

  “Ah. He can’t have his name or identity known or he will become a target.”

  “I still won’t be able to talk about my life even after I’m out,” Dylan told them. “But it’s okay. It’s done. The president will help reassign me.”

  “Can’t you take a similar job in the regular Army?” Talon asked.

  “I was a master sergeant. At twenty-six.”

  The men were silent. As they should be. It was unheard of. He’d been leading his team for well over a year now. Delta Force was so secretive it was hard to know the qualifications, but they only took the top percentage of the quarter percent of the best. Dropping to a regular Army detail would be an insult and a waste of talent.

  “Maybe my grandfather can help?” Abby suggested.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Dylan told her as he squeezed her leg. “I’m more concerned with you at this moment. And for as much as I’ve accomplished, it’s nothing compared to you. I’m so damn proud of you, Abby.”

  Abby’s heart swelled as she placed her hand over his. Most of the men she worked with weren’t proud of her. They had reluctantly followed her orders because she had forced them to respect her abilities. But she’d never had anyone to talk to about her work.

  “We all are. We knew you’d do great things,” Jackson said as he smiled into the rearview mirror.

  “Thank you. All of you.”

  * * *

  Abby took a deep breath and Dylan felt her fingers curl around his. She wasn’t pulling away, and Dylan felt a rush greater than he had in battle. He had a chance. Now he just had to take it.

  He may have been in the car with FBI, but Dylan kept a watchful eye as they drove. He didn’t doubt the guys’ ability to protect them, but in a way he couldn’t help but wonder how prepared any of them were. He was trained to be on guard at all times. And while there was no evidence that Chet would come after Abby, he had to be prepared in case Chet was already waiting for them. Because he knew Chet would come. The only question was when.

  10

  The snow-dusted rolling hills slowly gave way to her hometown as they arrived in Keeneston. Main Street appeared and Abby pulled her hand from his. It was clear that while things might be changing between them, she wasn’t ready to make any kind of decision on exactly what that might be.

  Dylan looked around at the Christmas lights that were going to be taken down soon. They were wrapped around the light poles and hung in the large plate glass windows of the shops. Main Street was picture-perfect with the snow-covered roofs of the historic two- and three-story brick buildings.

  Cars lined Main Street on both sides as most light came from the Blossom Café. Across the street from the café, the courthouse stood with Lady Justice riding into battle on a rearing horse. The courthouse lot was almost full as Jackson turned into it and found a parking spot.

  Dylan wanted to reach for Abby, but it wasn’t the time to do so. He was mission-oriented, and it was hard to keep from rushing forward. But like any mission, getting Abby to see him as something more took planning. And if there was one thing Dylan knew, it was how to plan to breach a fortress and that was what Abby’s heart was. If she’d had the trai
ning he had, attachments were a weakness, and she’d locked her heart tight behind steel walls—just like he always had. Until now.

  Lucas and Talon cleared the area as Dylan and Jackson took up positions on either side of Abby. The three of them searched the rooftops as they left the safety of the parking lot and crossed the street.

  “Two snipers,” Jackson said under his breath.

  “They’re friendlies,” Abby told them.

  “One is my new brother-in-law, Aiden,” Dylan confirmed.

  “I’m guessing the other is Walker,” Abby said of the former DEVGRU man.

  The glass door to the café opened as Bridget, Ahmed, and Kale came out to meet them privately. “The town is clear,” Ahmed said as Bridget opened her arms and Abby went to them.

  While Bridget hugged her daughter, Ahmed stepped over to greet the group of men. “We haven’t been filled in, but I knew it had to be bad when Nabi found traces of someone trying to hack into Abby’s records. He shut them down. When Jackson called to say he was picking you two up at the airport, we shut the town down. Miles, Marshall, Cade, Aiden, and Walker cleared the area not five minutes ago. And until you’re safely inside, Aiden and Walker are staying in sniper positions.”

  “We saw them,” Dylan said as they shook hands.

  “Thank you for getting my daughter safely to us. I’ll take over now,” Ahmed said as he shook Jackson, Talon, and Lucas’s hands.

  “Sorry, sir. That’s not an option,” Dylan said as if reporting to a superior officer. “I have orders from the president to protect Abby and to capture or kill Chet Pottinger.”

  “Who?” Ahmed asked as Abby pulled away from her mother to join the conversation.

  “That shithead?” Abby’s younger brother, Kale, asked surprised.

  “Language,” Bridget chided her son.

  “Sorry, Mom. But he is. He’s a trust fund brat who does drugs and drinks five-thousand-dollar bottles of champagne at strip clubs.”

  “So you have a point about being a shithead,” Bridget said as she tried to hide her smirk. “But why are we worried about him?”

  “He was radicalized in prison,” Abby began to explain.

  “ISIS?” Ahmed asked.

  “Himself,” Abby told them. “He believes he’s going to be more powerful than God. I was sent in to determine if he was a cult leader or a terrorist.”

  “There’s a very fine line between them,” Ahmed said as Dylan and Jackson nodded. They had all probably had some experience with people like that.

  “Chet has found a balance between them. His followers, about seventy percent women, believe him to be a savior of the earth. He’s getting them to kill by telling them they are protecting the earth from evil. Then on the other side of things, he’s taking the power from those he kills. He just took out Omar Wasti, Juan Carolinto, and Prince Tariq. Sure, that helps the world in a twisted way. But now Chet’s taking over their operations. Soon he’ll amass more money and goodwill through his charities, arms, drugs, and weapons. It’ll be very hard to stop him with his hands in reach of so much power.”

  “Many terror groups are funded through charities. He’s just cutting out the middle man and self-funding through his own charity,” Kale said with a shake of his head. “It’s actually brilliant. The charity work is a great way to launder money, yet he can show he has built a new school or saved a whale or whatever.”

  “Exactly,” Abby told her brother.

  “Where do you fit into this?” Ahmed asked Dylan, cutting to the chase.

  “My group was to provide backup to two people, an operative and a civilian, who were sent to eliminate two targets and possibly capture or eliminate Chet. It turned into a rescue when Chet killed everyone there except the operative and the civilian. Chet tried to blow them up with a RPG, but they were able to get into a pool before I fished them out. My group then safely evacuated them.”

  “This was all off books,” Ahmed said with confidence. “Delta Force?”

  Dylan gave a single nod before Ahmed turned to Abby. “You did it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I did.”

  Ahmed wrapped his arms around his daughter. “The first woman SOG operator. I am so proud of you, honey.”

  “First and last. With Chet knowing my identity, the president thinks it’s only a matter of time before my identity gets leaked and I’ll be out.” Dylan heard the sadness in her voice and wanted to reach for her, but she’d been clear in the car. No contact in public.

  “Oh, sweetie,” her mom said, wrapping her back up in a hug. “I am so proud of you. Whether you continue or not, what you’ve accomplished is nothing short of amazing. And even if you can’t go back to the same job, think of the women you can inspire.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but it doesn’t feel very amazing right now. It feels like a loss.”

  Dylan automatically reached for Abby to comfort her and then pulled back his hand as Ahmed’s eyes narrowed at his action. The door to the café opened, and Poppy stuck her head out.

  “Oh, hello, Lucas. It’s nice to see you again,” Poppy said with a slight blush. “Um, everyone is wondering if you could just come inside and tell us what’s going on so Miss Lily can turn down her hearing aids. The feedback is giving us a headache.”

  Kale held the door open and Bridget escorted her daughter inside, followed by Jackson, Lucas, and Talon. Dylan knew better than to walk into the café. Ahmed was staring him down as if he’d just screwed up a drill during training. So he waited, and as soon as Kale looked between them and saw they were both staring at each other, he went inside the café and closed the door.

  “Your work is going to be public knowledge. Delta Force frowns on that,” Ahmed said quietly.

  “I know. I told the president I’m doing it anyway.”

  Ahmed was quiet for a moment and then gave a sharp nod of approval. “You’re a good friend, Dylan. Thank you for helping Abigail. I know you are ordered by the president to protect her, but I’ll be taking over from here on out.”

  Ahmed said it in a tone that Dylan knew no one in his right mind would argue with . . . except him. “I’m sorry, sir. But as I said before, I can’t allow that.” Ahmed’s jaw clenched, but Dylan continued on. “However, I would appreciate your help.”

  Ahmed was silent for a moment. “I’ll agree to that for now. But you do one thing I wouldn’t do and I’m taking Abby into Mo’s house, which is embassy grounds and where your orders don’t mean jack.”

  “I do my best work behind enemy lines, sir,” Dylan said with a little smirk. Ahmed shook his head, but in amusement and not anger.

  “Prove it to me then. Keep my daughter safe. I’m pretty sure she can keep herself safe. I did teach her everything I know,” Ahmed said proudly.

  “I don’t doubt it for a second. She’s an exceptional woman.” Ahmed smiled at the compliment, but then the smile faded as the secondary meaning sunk in. Dylan was smart enough to know when to retreat, and he walked past Ahmed and into the café before Ahmed could ask more questions.

  Abby was just finishing up her edited version of events for the packed café when Dylan walked in. He saw all the Davies brothers, their wives, all their children, and family friends like Trey and Taylor Everett and their two college-aged boys, Holt and Knox. Even Henry Rooney and his wife and daughter, all three of whom were attorneys, were in attendance. Absolutely everyone was packed into the restaurant and listening raptly to Abby.

  “Thank goodness I got my new Humvee,” Pam Gilbert said in her perfectly creased khaki pants and pink turtleneck with maroon vest over it. “I got it for a steal at the government auction. And you wouldn’t believe the room for my crafts in the back.”

  God, it was good to be home. Dylan smiled at the former soccer and PTA mom who had ruined at least two minivans by hitting bad guys with them. He’d been in many situations where Pam and her minivan would have been the rescue he’d needed. There was no one, absolutely no one, who could drive the narrow country roads of Keeneston
faster than Pam. Even Kale was a little slower and definitely not as smooth. She once told him that when he had kids who were running late to soccer practice and he had pies to deliver to the PTA fundraiser, all within ten minutes, he would understand.

  Dylan had scoffed at that until his littlest sister was born. Dylan looked across the café to where his mom held her fifth child—a surprise at age fifty-two. Dylan smiled at them. His mom barely came to his shoulder, but she could still scare him. But then he looked at his one-month-old baby sister, Cricket. Maybe racing to his kid’s sniper class didn’t sound so bad.

  “There’s nothing to do right now except to keep your eyes open and let any of us—“she gestured to Dylan and Jackson “—know if you see someone new. Maybe check out some pictures of Chet to make sure you know what he looks like. And his right-hand person is Lemon Belmont. She’s been in a couple movies no one has seen.”

  “Is that all?” Miss Violet, one of the three centenarian Rose sisters asked. Miss Violet was still rounded from all her cooking and was perfect to hug, except she had a tendency to pull you into her pillowy bosom and hold there until you were sure you were going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

  “No. Please do not post anything on social media—Miss Daisy and Miss Lily, that means no tweeting,” Abby chided with a kind smile still on her face at the other two Rose sisters. Since their much younger, umpteenth-removed cousins Poppy and Zinnia had taken over the running of the sisters’ café and bed and breakfast, they’d also turned into their caretakers. A little while ago, they’d shown them how to use social media on their smartphones. There was now a Keeneston handle they posted on with all the gossip they could find . . . including pictures. That was the last thing they needed right now.

  “Why is Dylan with you?” Ava, the newest town doctor, asked from where she sat next to her friend, Addison Rooney, the new town prosecutor. “I mean, we all know Jackson, Talon, and Lucas are FBI, but I thought Dylan was in the Army or something.”

  Less than ten minutes and they were zeroed in on him. “I got leave to help,” Dylan said easily. He’d never tried to hide the fact he was in the Army. He only hid the level he was at in the Army.