Page 8 of Holiday Hijinks

His voice quieted as he walked around the kitchen, and she knew he might be on the call for a while. His big frame moved past the open doorway, Slate looking ruggedly handsome in his flannel shirt and jeans. Even now he managed to look in command and control, despite the fact that he was literally pacing where they’d just eaten, in a remote cabin in the woods, not in some command center on base.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was still early. He’d lit a fire in the cozy living room earlier, and between the flames and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the entire place felt warm and magical. She couldn’t help but wonder what presents he’d put under the tree. She had her own surprise for him, but Christmas itself was days away. Sighing softly, she snuggled under the blanket and looked at the story on her laptop. The evening was ripe with possibilities, and she couldn’t wait to spend time alone with Slate later.

***

Slate muttered under his breath, holding his cell phone to his ear.

“You know I’ve made my own fair share of enemies, brother,” Jett said. “Aside from serving in uniform, I run a goddamn black ops team. Men all over the globe would love to end me and my operation.”

“Your home is secure, surrounded by a gated fence. Shadow Security Headquarters is practically a fortress. This cabin has cameras but is in the middle of the goddamn woods. And Seattle?” he added in a low voice, thinking of the wedding venue and hotel. “I want security on us,” he said. “While I can certainly protect what’s mine, I shouldn’t have to.”

He could practically picture Jett smirking on the other end of the line. “Too busy with your future blushing bride?” he questioned.

“Enough. What I do with Ashleigh is my own business.”

Jett cleared his throat. “Ahem. Just remember there are cameras inside the cabin now after I made all the security updates. Turn off the one in the living room unless you want to watch a repeat of the show later.”

Slate cursed again, and he could hear his brother’s laughter. “Anna didn’t mind when we were there a month ago, but she’s not Ashleigh.”

“No, she’s not,” Slate said in irritation. While he appreciated the reminder, he was already wondering if he’d said anything earlier to accidentally embarrass his future wife. While he’d loved holding her naked in his arms in front of the fire last year, he hoped he hadn’t said that out loud in the living room when they’d first walked in earlier.

Goddamn terrorists.

Before they’d tracked Slate here a year ago, they’d had no reason to be at the cabin. Just as Slate was easy enough to find back in California, Jett was easy to locate in New York. He owned the entire company, a security business that secretly housed a black ops team. Both men might have enemies, but Slate wasn’t about to let anything interrupt his time with Ashleigh. If someone thought they’d find him alone with his fiancée, either here or in their hotel room, they’d be in for a surprise.

“I’ll line up additional security,” Jett assured him. “I’ve got some guys out west anyway finishing up an op.”

“New hires?” Slate questioned.

“No. Ford Anderson and Sam Jackson have been with me since the beginning. If we need extra hired hands to ensure your wedding goes off without a hitch, then we’ll do it. I’m flying out there with my own family. We both have a lot to protect, brother.”

“I already texted Lena about changing the hotel for the wedding night. And none of the vendors or wedding venue itself have contracts in my name,” Slate said in a hushed tone, his gaze landing on the kitchen door again. All he needed was for Ashleigh to come in here right now and accidentally overhear everything.

“Affirmative,” Jett said. “Lena and the wedding planner handled all of that. There is nothing tying you to the wedding location. You’ll be safe to proceed with the ceremony, unless of course someone is watching you at the cabin and follows you to Seattle. They found the cabin’s address last year,” he added darkly.

“Damn it all to hell,” Slate muttered. “Let’s hope that mofo who left tracks in the snow all over the damn front porch last time didn’t tell the others where specifically the cabin is. I’ll speak with you soon. I need to make sure the cabin and perimeter are secure.”

“I’ll have West and my IT guys monitor the camera feeds there as well. Remember—turn off the one in the living room.”

Slate muttered a curse and then finished his call. He pulled up the security feed, ensuring all of the cameras around the property were working. He had motion alerts set up, but those would just as likely be triggered by a deer or fox as a ruthless terrorist. There wasn’t necessarily a specific reason someonewould track him here again—especially if his hotel reservation in Seattle later this week was posted on the dark web. A hotel he wouldn’t set foot in during this trip now. Slate wouldn’t risk it with Ashleigh at his side.

The idea of someone flying up to Seattle for a second year in a row to find him seemed asinine. Then again, he hadn’t traveled for pleasure since then. The military flights he took weren’t on record for anyone in the public to see. He was away from his home and the men he commanded. Alone, as far as the terrorists knew. The assholes after him had no idea a team of men would be converging in the northwest this week for his surprise wedding.

Slate clenched his phone in his hand, the edges cutting into his skin. It almost felt like there was something he was missing, but he’d covered his bases for now. Aside from leaving the remote cabin, as they’d done last year, there wasn’t a hell of a lot else to do. The homegrown terror cell likely thought he’d be arriving in Seattle in several days for Christmas.

He pulled up another camera feed, ensuring his home back in San Diego was secure. There’d been no unusual alerts, and he was satisfied that it appeared someone was home. The lights had timers, and his neighbors were getting their mail and packages. Maybe he’d have one of his men swing by as a precaution. If he was being watched, there was no need to let anyone know he was gone.

But what if the men after him would be waiting at the hotel he’d originally booked?

Slate shot off a quick text to Jett.

Slate:Can we get eyes on the hotel I was supposed to stay in?

Jett:Good call, brother. Someone might show up there in a few days still expecting you.

Slate:I want to see the faces of whoever’s tracking me.

Jett:Already on it.

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