Page 42 of Damned
“Hold please.” She disconnected before Kruze could finish, damn her.
Bree’s hand hit his wrist. “Language,” she whispered, her gaze darting back toward Robin.
Kruze nodded, message received. Robin didn’t need to know how to swear. But damn it. He jerked his cell away from his ear and stared daggers at the damned thing. Talking with Paloma was like being in a knife fight. She adored Pagan, but she thrived on ignoring, besting, or annoying Kruze every chance she could. Didn’t matter if he’d just said good morning. She’d still have a snarky comeback to shut him down.
But like everything else wrong in his life, that failed relationship was on Kruze. How could he have known she’d had her eyes on Pagan the night Kruze invited her to live dangerously and spend it with him? Like the lady assassin hadn’t already lived dangerously. That putdown should’ve been the clue he wasn’t as hot as he’d once thought he was.
After Juliana, Kruze had turned into everything he hated about himself now: a user of women and a selfish, rutting pig of a man. He’d let his basest instincts loose, and for a while, they’d served him well. Hecouldcharm the panties off any woman, and he knew it. Some of those same women had even called him charismatic. They’d wanted to marry him.
But the steady stream of debauchery had never been about appetite. Truth be told, all those hookups had been about pain control. They’d left Kruze with an aching, hollowed-out feeling in his soul that no amount of sex or whiskey could fill. All those one-night stands happened because, deep down, he’d been looking for something; he just didn’t know what that something was. All he knew was that loving a woman wasn’t worth the pain of losing her. Like Juliana and his mother. Never. Again.
Until now…
While he waited, hopefully, for his brother to pick up, Kruze’s gaze strayed from the road ahead to the tense woman at his side. Bree was different than all those empty hook-ups. She just might be the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t lose her. She could be his last chance to have what Chance and Pagan had—his life back. And Kruze didn’t want just an off-again/on-again relationship with his daughter. He wanted what Chance had with Suede, and, yeah, okay, even what Pagan had with testy Pal.
“Chance Sinclair,” Kruze’s older brother growled over the phone. Him stating his name like that, told Kruze that Pal had probably told Chance he had a pushy telemarketer on the line, or someone else just as annoying.
“Chance, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Big brother’s hearty laugh blasted Kruze’s eardrum. “When haven’t you?”
“Yeah, well…” Chance had him there. Kruze didn’t usually call home. “Need you to run down a call that came in yesterday afternoon to this number.” He rattled off Lark’s landline number. He also wanted Chance to research Brandon Banks, too, but he couldn’t ask for that intel with Bree listening.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“General Berfendeis in the country. Sullivan suspects he’s coming after Brianna Banks again.”
“You really think he’d call her first?” Chance knew Kruze had safely extracted Bree from Turkey. But he didn’t know Kruze had met Bree years ago. But then, Chance didn’t know a lot of things about his middle sibling, and Kruze meant to keep it that way. The whole less-is-more concept.
“Not sure, but someone did. Might’ve just been a telemarketer, but if it was Berfende, he’s gotten too close to her, too fast. If you can identify that caller, Bree can at least breathe easier.”
“Bree, huh?”
Kruze ignored the innuendo. “Already talked with Sullivan.”
“You’re on bodyguard duty, but you didn’t think to clear it with me.” Chance made that a statement. He was the Sin Boys team leader. Kruze should’ve, at least, run this operation by him.
“Sorry about that, but I was already in DC after briefing Sullivan on this same scenario. Figured I was closer to New Jersey than you or Pagan. No big deal.” Kruze wasn’t about to tell Chance that he’d agreed to speak to Wayne’s group therapy patients, or that Bree was one of those patients. He’d never near the end of that.
“No big deal, huh?”
And Kruze was back at square one, dealing with yet another annoying family member, only this one was concerned instead of obnoxious. The need to tell Chance to mind his business was strong. Kruze opted for diversion instead. “Remember Alex Stewart? His TEAM?”
“Sure, yeah. Alex runs a tight ship. What about him?”
“Sullivan called him for an assist, and he’s sending two of his best agents and—” Kruze bit his tongue to keep from spilling the beans about Robin to Chance or letting Bree overhear the plan to split her family up. “Sullivan and I figured it’d be better this way.”
“You’re splitting them up?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Good thinking. Need any help?”
There was only one Sullivan safehouse north of NYC. Kruze didn’t need to spell it out. But now he wished he’d told Bree about splitting up her family. Those were daggers in her eyes. Sharp, deadly, pale-blue daggers. All aimed at him. Had she figured it out as quickly as Chance?
“No, but keep your ears on. Berfende’s no dummy. If he called Bree’s parents’ landline yesterday, he may have more resources than we thought.”
“Copy that, brother. I’ll let you know what I find out. No surprises, okay?”
