Protecting Dallas

“You’d better believe it,” I said, slipping it in my pocket.

Nine

DALLAS

The next few weeks were interesting ones, to say the least. Even for being holed up in an old house, somewhere out in the desert.

As far roommates went, the guys were extremely chill. I learned tons more about them and they about me, sharing meals and stories and drinks — both in the kitchen and out.

I even learned more about my brother. Much, much more. It was amazing, hearing all about the other side to Connor’s life. I couldn’t get enough of listening to the tales of the exotic places he’d been, and all the incredible things he’d done while there. And the guys never held back. They never tired of telling me.

They never really ran out of stories, either.

It turned out that my brother was absolute badass, which I already knew. But apparently he was the King of All Badasses, and after some of the shit he’d been through with Maddox and Austin and Kane, they revered him almost as some of deity or god.

“If it weren’t for your brother,” they told me on more than one occasion, “none of us would even be here.”

They said it solemnly. Soberly. Without bragging or boasting or even a trace of a smile. And while none of them would go too deep into the specifics of the actual combat missions they ran with Connor, each of them had their own tales of his sacrifice and unwavering bravery.

I learned that Maddox was retired from service, and doing private-sector work. Austin and Kane were still technically enlisted, but had received a highly-specialized, temporarily leave.

“We’re not going back until we figure this out,” Austin had assured me gently. “And neither are you.”

As for me, I was keeping busy. ‘Work’ around the house consisted of everything I’d said and more, including painting, redesigning, and putting the place together. The house was bigger and brighter now, with more powerful bulbs and accent lamps that lit up every room with a warm, welcoming light. I’d ordered chairs, tables, rugs. Cabinets and cases and shelves. And of course I’d painted… I’d painted every room and every ceiling — including the guys’ bedrooms.

I’d even cleaned out and refurbished the old fireplace, which had apparently been used at one time to heat the entire house. It was a big hit the very first time I lit it; everyone retired to the living room to eat dinner while watching the flames.

There was a computer in the corner of the den, hooked up to the internet through an encrypted VPN. It turned out Austin was the technical guy, and he maintained the cameras and alarm systems as well. He’d been the one who tapped into Connor’s security system, where they’d all taken turns watching me. And watching me. And watching me…

Anything I wanted, I ordered. Anything I needed to see firsthand, I was driven into town. The guys took turns watching over me, sometimes two at a time while the third one was out. It was their only stipulation: that I never be permitted to be alone. That, and the phone they made me carry with me at all times. It had no contacts on it other than them, but it allowed them to pinpoint my location and get in touch with me w

henever they wanted.

It was strange at first, not having my old life. But as time went on, I realized just how disconnected from the world I really was. I had no family, no job, no boss. Any friends I had were work friends from the casino. Strangely enough, even after three weeks away I still didn’t miss them.

“We need to go out,” I said, time and time again. “You guys have to take me to dinner, or a maybe a bar, or maybe—”

“Too dangerous,” they’d always reply. “These are places where the men looking for you will expect you to turn up. Places they’ll have paid people to be watching for you, people ready to call them in at a moment’s notice.”

That part sucked, always having to stay at ‘home’. My only consolation was to keep telling myself it was temporary. The guys were making some headway, even if it was slow going. They were learning more about the type of organization that had showed up at my house that night, and none of the news was good.

“They’re military,” Austin said one night, clear out of the blue. “And there’s a good chance Connor found out about something he shouldn’t have...”

It made me angry, to the point of tears. Tears I couldn’t show however, because I didn’t want to run the risk of looking weak. Of looking unable to handle anything they threw my way.

Instead I cried at night, into my pillow. Tears of fury and frustration that, when sleep finally took me, always ended up resulting in some very bad dreams.

Still, I grew closer with each of them as time went on. Austin and I bonded over all things tech, the two of us setting up a killer house stereo system that made me a little frightened to tell them how much I’d paid. Maddox and I shared our deep love for Connor, trading stories about my brother one for one. He loved hearing what Connor was like during our childhood and teenage years. I enjoyed laughing at all the funny stuff he did in the Navy, from playing pranks on guys in his unit to some of the more personal details about my sibling I never really knew.

As for Kane… he and I somehow shared an even deeper, more intimate connection. He talked a lot less than the others, so when he did speak his words carried a lot more weight to them. Whenever we were alone, whatever we were doing, we seemed to communicate on some silent, personal level. There were layers of similarity between us — especially amongst our childhoods — that bonded Kane and I. Sharing the affliction of insomnia as well, it was something we talked about in the wee hours of the morning, on more than a few sleepless nights.

In time the guys went from treating me as a little sister (Connor’s little sister at least) to seeing me as more of a roommate and an equal. The wide personal berth they gave me at first was shrinking fast, too. We’d pass each other in the halls wearing less and less clothing, the guys mumbling an apology here and there for being shirtless, or wearing boxer shorts, or even a towel.

And eventually the apologies dropped off too, as even I started doing it.

For me it was no big deal; we all shared the same bathroom, so a little skin was practically unavoidable. And physically, there was absolutely nothing wrong with my roommates either. On the contrary, all three men were gorgeously built, with lean, powerful bodies perfected by years of the toughest physical training on the planet. They’d converted part of the den into a home gym — the one spot in the whole house I wasn’t allowed to re-arrange or remodel. And each of them went through a daily exercise and weight-lifting regimen that made me tired just watching them.

And damn, did I love watching them…