She hesitated when she heard a child’s shriek of laughter and the accompanying laughter from the adults. She stood at the corner, watching the blond-haired little imp run after a golden retriever puppy while the women sat on the steps of the deck watching with big smiles on their faces.
They didn’t look like women who’d undergone the same kind of shit P.J. had been through, even though she knew differently. P.J. had been a part of each mission that had brought these women back home where they belonged. And they’d all endured their own version of hell. They were survivors. They were fierce. And shit, it killed her to admit it, but they intimidated her because she didn’t feel like she measured up. Especially after her freak-out last night.
She continued to watch from a distance, her gut tightening more with each passing moment. Of the four women, P.J. knew the least about Sarah. She was quieter and more withdrawn than the others. It always made P.J. grin that Garrett stayed in trouble with her over his potty mouth and was forever slipping up when she wasn’t around.
Cole had told her that she’d been raped before she and Garrett had met and that Sarah’s brother had killed the man responsible. P.J. had silently cheered him on, even back then before her own attack had happened.
A man couldn’t be all bad if he was willing to take out the monster responsible for hurting his sister.
P.J. most identified with Sophie, Sam’s wife. She was a fighter. Even five months pregnant and running for her life, she’d kicked some pretty serious ass. Hell, she’d even shot her own father. That took some balls.
But Rachel was also a resilient, kick-ass survivor in her own quiet way. Of all of them, she’d endured the most for the longest. A year in hell. One P.J. couldn’t even begin to imagine or fathom. What Rachel had suffered made what P.J. had experienced seem insignificant in comparison. P.J. had worried that Rachel may not ever fully recover. P.J. had been there when Ethan had carried her out of the jungle. She’d seen Rachel at her lowest point. But she’d come a long way from that frightened, powerless victim she’d been, and she’d made great strides thanks to the support network around her.
P.J. was envious of that if she was honest with herself. Every single Kelly would lay down his life for her or any of the other Kelly women. No hesitation. No regrets.
She was so absorbed in her analysis of the women that she failed to notice Sophie walking her way until the other woman was directly in front of her.
“Hi, P.J.,” Sophie said with a smile. “Cole said you were coming over. I’m very happy you did.”
P.J.’s palms were damp but she resisted the urge to wipe them down her pants. She managed a convincing smile back.
“Er, thanks for having me. I mean, it was nice of you guys to put your day on hold.”
Sophie waved her hand. “Come on over. The only part of the day we put on hold was the opening of the wine. Now that you’re here, we’re going to remedy that.” She finished with a genuine, warm smile that made P.J. relax and lose some of the awful tension in her gut.
She limped behind Sophie and found herself the object of scrutiny of the other three women as they watched her approach. Sure enough, as Sophie had said, there was a wine bottle and glasses on the patio table.
It reeked of a girly social. All that was missing was a teapot, some cute little mini sandwiches with the crusts cut off and some funky dip that looked like a cat puked in the bowl.
P.J. was more used to beer, bad music and even worse company. It surprised the hell out of her that she was actually starting to think this wasn’t going to be such a bad afternoon. It might even be . . . fun.
“Here’s P.J., finally home,” Sophie said. “She’s going to hang out with us today while she’s recovering. I figure she needs a break from Cole by now.” She turned back to P.J. “We’ve all been so worried about you.”
P.J. started to defend Cole, but she realized the other woman was simply teasing her. She shrugged off any remaining reluctance and offered a hesitant but genuine smile in the other women’s directions. They’d worried about her? They’d actually known she was gone? P.J. couldn’t imagine the overprotective Kellys allowing their women to know a whole lot about what went on with KGI. She wouldn’t have imagined that they would have known she’d left, much less worried over that fact.
“Hi, P.J.,” Shea offered, a broad smile widening her pretty features.
“How’s your leg?” Rachel asked in a soft voice. “Ethan said you were shot.”
P.J. looked down with a rueful smile. “It’s not too bad. A clean through and through. Could have been much worse. I’ll be back in action soon.”
Sarah shuddered. “I don’t see how you can live with the constant danger. And you’re so casual about being shot!”
“Just part of the job,” P.J. said easily. “It’s something you get used to.”
“Well, come and sit,” Sophie insisted. “Get off that leg. You need to have your feet up. Let me get you a glass of wine. I’ve told Sam to go find something to do and for the men not to bother us today. They’re probably somewhere cowering in fear of what evil plan we’re hatching.”
P.J. allowed herself to be ushered into one of the chairs, and then Shea dragged another over so she could put her leg up.
A sudden thought occurred to P.J., one that alarmed her, and she glanced up at Shea, her brow furrowed. “You aren’t going to do any of that mind-meld stuff to help my leg, are you? I know how much that hurts you, so don’t even think about it.”
Shea blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Mind meld. That’s a new word for it. And to answer your question, no. I’m afraid my gift is random. I can’t connect to people at will. My sister can, but I can’t.”
P.J. felt embarrassed at just blurting it out like that, but the last thing she wanted was for Shea to take on her pain. It would piss Nathan off and cause a big fuss. Not to mention, P.J. had witnessed firsthand just how much suffering it caused Shea when she helped others with her extraordinary gift. It was her injury and she could deal with it.
Shea and her sister, Grace, who was with Rio, the other team leader, had unique abilities that defied scientific explanation. There was a whole bizarre story behind it, involving experiments and pairing certain couples with supernatural abilities together to see what offspring they produced. Shea and Grace had been two such experiments that had managed to escape and break free from the people who wanted to harness and use their abilities for their own purposes.
The whole thing was beyond P.J.’s scope of understanding. She wouldn’t have believed any of it if she hadn’t seen for herself the results of one of those mind-melding sessions.
It reminded her of her charismatic religious upbringing and the whole idea of faith healing. None of it made any sense to her.
“How is Grace?” P.J. asked, directing her question at Shea. “And Elizabeth? How is she adjusting? Do you get to see them often?”
Shea smiled ruefully. “Not as much as I’d like, but that mind-meld thing is better than a cell phone. I can talk to her whenever I want, so it makes the times I can’t see her not seem so bad. And Elizabeth is such a darling. Way too old for her age. She’s had to grow up so fast, but Grace and Rio both love her so much already.”
She hesitated when she heard a child’s shriek of laughter and the accompanying laughter from the adults. She stood at the corner, watching the blond-haired little imp run after a golden retriever puppy while the women sat on the steps of the deck watching with big smiles on their faces.
They didn’t look like women who’d undergone the same kind of shit P.J. had been through, even though she knew differently. P.J. had been a part of each mission that had brought these women back home where they belonged. And they’d all endured their own version of hell. They were survivors. They were fierce. And shit, it killed her to admit it, but they intimidated her because she didn’t feel like she measured up. Especially after her freak-out last night.
She continued to watch from a distance, her gut tightening more with each passing moment. Of the four women, P.J. knew the least about Sarah. She was quieter and more withdrawn than the others. It always made P.J. grin that Garrett stayed in trouble with her over his potty mouth and was forever slipping up when she wasn’t around.
Cole had told her that she’d been raped before she and Garrett had met and that Sarah’s brother had killed the man responsible. P.J. had silently cheered him on, even back then before her own attack had happened.
A man couldn’t be all bad if he was willing to take out the monster responsible for hurting his sister.
P.J. most identified with Sophie, Sam’s wife. She was a fighter. Even five months pregnant and running for her life, she’d kicked some pretty serious ass. Hell, she’d even shot her own father. That took some balls.
But Rachel was also a resilient, kick-ass survivor in her own quiet way. Of all of them, she’d endured the most for the longest. A year in hell. One P.J. couldn’t even begin to imagine or fathom. What Rachel had suffered made what P.J. had experienced seem insignificant in comparison. P.J. had worried that Rachel may not ever fully recover. P.J. had been there when Ethan had carried her out of the jungle. She’d seen Rachel at her lowest point. But she’d come a long way from that frightened, powerless victim she’d been, and she’d made great strides thanks to the support network around her.
P.J. was envious of that if she was honest with herself. Every single Kelly would lay down his life for her or any of the other Kelly women. No hesitation. No regrets.
She was so absorbed in her analysis of the women that she failed to notice Sophie walking her way until the other woman was directly in front of her.
“Hi, P.J.,” Sophie said with a smile. “Cole said you were coming over. I’m very happy you did.”
P.J.’s palms were damp but she resisted the urge to wipe them down her pants. She managed a convincing smile back.
“Er, thanks for having me. I mean, it was nice of you guys to put your day on hold.”
Sophie waved her hand. “Come on over. The only part of the day we put on hold was the opening of the wine. Now that you’re here, we’re going to remedy that.” She finished with a genuine, warm smile that made P.J. relax and lose some of the awful tension in her gut.
She limped behind Sophie and found herself the object of scrutiny of the other three women as they watched her approach. Sure enough, as Sophie had said, there was a wine bottle and glasses on the patio table.
It reeked of a girly social. All that was missing was a teapot, some cute little mini sandwiches with the crusts cut off and some funky dip that looked like a cat puked in the bowl.
P.J. was more used to beer, bad music and even worse company. It surprised the hell out of her that she was actually starting to think this wasn’t going to be such a bad afternoon. It might even be . . . fun.
“Here’s P.J., finally home,” Sophie said. “She’s going to hang out with us today while she’s recovering. I figure she needs a break from Cole by now.” She turned back to P.J. “We’ve all been so worried about you.”
P.J. started to defend Cole, but she realized the other woman was simply teasing her. She shrugged off any remaining reluctance and offered a hesitant but genuine smile in the other women’s directions. They’d worried about her? They’d actually known she was gone? P.J. couldn’t imagine the overprotective Kellys allowing their women to know a whole lot about what went on with KGI. She wouldn’t have imagined that they would have known she’d left, much less worried over that fact.
“Hi, P.J.,” Shea offered, a broad smile widening her pretty features.
“How’s your leg?” Rachel asked in a soft voice. “Ethan said you were shot.”
P.J. looked down with a rueful smile. “It’s not too bad. A clean through and through. Could have been much worse. I’ll be back in action soon.”
Sarah shuddered. “I don’t see how you can live with the constant danger. And you’re so casual about being shot!”
“Just part of the job,” P.J. said easily. “It’s something you get used to.”
“Well, come and sit,” Sophie insisted. “Get off that leg. You need to have your feet up. Let me get you a glass of wine. I’ve told Sam to go find something to do and for the men not to bother us today. They’re probably somewhere cowering in fear of what evil plan we’re hatching.”
P.J. allowed herself to be ushered into one of the chairs, and then Shea dragged another over so she could put her leg up.
A sudden thought occurred to P.J., one that alarmed her, and she glanced up at Shea, her brow furrowed. “You aren’t going to do any of that mind-meld stuff to help my leg, are you? I know how much that hurts you, so don’t even think about it.”
Shea blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Mind meld. That’s a new word for it. And to answer your question, no. I’m afraid my gift is random. I can’t connect to people at will. My sister can, but I can’t.”
P.J. felt embarrassed at just blurting it out like that, but the last thing she wanted was for Shea to take on her pain. It would piss Nathan off and cause a big fuss. Not to mention, P.J. had witnessed firsthand just how much suffering it caused Shea when she helped others with her extraordinary gift. It was her injury and she could deal with it.
Shea and her sister, Grace, who was with Rio, the other team leader, had unique abilities that defied scientific explanation. There was a whole bizarre story behind it, involving experiments and pairing certain couples with supernatural abilities together to see what offspring they produced. Shea and Grace had been two such experiments that had managed to escape and break free from the people who wanted to harness and use their abilities for their own purposes.
The whole thing was beyond P.J.’s scope of understanding. She wouldn’t have believed any of it if she hadn’t seen for herself the results of one of those mind-melding sessions.
It reminded her of her charismatic religious upbringing and the whole idea of faith healing. None of it made any sense to her.
“How is Grace?” P.J. asked, directing her question at Shea. “And Elizabeth? How is she adjusting? Do you get to see them often?”
Shea smiled ruefully. “Not as much as I’d like, but that mind-meld thing is better than a cell phone. I can talk to her whenever I want, so it makes the times I can’t see her not seem so bad. And Elizabeth is such a darling. Way too old for her age. She’s had to grow up so fast, but Grace and Rio both love her so much already.”
“I’ll admit, it was hard to picture Rio as a daddy,” P.J. said, a crook in her lip. “He’s so intense and broody. But he also has a soft spot a mile wide, so I guess it’s not so out of the realm of believability. I’m glad they’re doing well, though. The last time I saw either of them was at your wedding.”
Shea’s entire face lit up, her smile dazzling. She exchanged smiles with Sarah, with whom she’d shared a wedding. It had been the Kelly lovefest that had sent P.J. to her seedy bar in Denver in a funk. Now she realized she’d just been jealous and lonely.
It made her wince to admit that she’d actually been jealous of all the love and support of the huge Kelly family, but she was brutally honest with herself. Well, when she wasn’t in denial . . .
Sarah poured her a glass of wine and handed it across the table to P.J. but then drew up short just as P.J. reached for it.
“You haven’t taken any pain medication, have you? We didn’t even think about that. You have to be in a lot of pain and we should have had the sense not to plan wine.”
P.J. smiled at Sarah’s genuine worry. “I’m drug free. No need to worry that I’ll be stoned after a glass of wine. My last dose was yesterday evening. I’m trying not to take it unless I have to or Cole makes me.”
The others laughed.
“If Cole’s anything like our husbands, and I’m sure he’s just as much an alpha, hardheaded male, then you have your hands full,” Rachel said with a rueful smile.
“He’s been great,” P.J. said softly.
She lowered her gaze when the other women shared a smug smile, and she sipped idly at her wine, wondering when one of them was going to bring up the delicate situation that was essentially the elephant in the room. And her reason for being here in the first place.
She watched as Sophie scooped three-year-old Charlotte into a hug and then tickled the toddler’s tummy until she shrieked with laughter.
P.J. had to admit that Charlotte was a complete cutie-pie. She almost made P.J. long for sweet-smelling babies and sweet little belly laughs. Almost.
There had been a time when P.J. had considered that she was ready to settle down, have a baby or two and do the whole American pie-and-picket-fence thing. Derek had quickly dissuaded her of that notion.
He hadn’t wanted children, and moreover, he didn’t want marriage. He thought it was an outdated, old-fashioned concept and that in the modern world, it made no sense for a man to commit to one woman.
Okay, so he was a complete dickhead. She knew that then even if she hadn’t immediately given him his walking papers.
Oddly enough she’d been less tolerant of him being a dirty cop than she had been of his views on love, marriage and family.
Since then she hadn’t given any thought to anything except her job and making sure she was the best damn sniper and soldier she could be.
All plans of marriage and family had been thrown out the window. And since then, she’d decided she just wasn’t mother material. What kind of parent could she be with the job she held? She loved her job and knew she’d never be happy giving it all up for home and hearth.
She wondered what Cole’s opinions were on the subject.
She shook her head, determined not to travel that path. It was a good way to set herself up for disappointment. Besides, what the hell was she doing debating children and marriage when she was a cold-blooded murderer plotting to make her next kill?
Fat lot of good it would do her to be dreaming in a jail cell. For that matter, if she was caught in some shit-hole country, it wasn’t the U.S. justice system she’d have to worry about. She’d be in some deep, dark place subject to treatment that would make what Nelson and Brumley had done to her a total cakewalk.
Was it worth it? Was it truly worth her life to take Brumley out?
She needed no time to answer that question.
Hell yes. She didn’t even hesitate. It wasn’t just her who’d suffered at that monster’s hands. So many babies. Young women. She couldn’t even begin to think of the atrocities so many girls had suffered before. And how many would suffer in the future if she didn’t shut this asshole down.
Her life certainly was worth it when she compared it to the hundreds—thousands—of girls she could save by taking his miserable ass out.
“I have no idea what you’re thinking, but it must be pretty awful,” Sarah said.
P.J. blinked and looked at Garrett’s wife, who was sitting across from her in a lawn chair. For that matter, all the women were staring intently at her.
P.J. offered a grimace. “Nothing worth talking about. Just an asshole who needs killing.”
Sophie lifted her brow. “Several come to mind when you say that.”
Rachel gave a wave. “Don’t listen to her. She’s pretty bloodthirsty.”
P.J. cracked a grin. “She sounds like my kind of woman.”
It was then that P.J. realized Rachel wasn’t drinking any wine, and for that matter, only four glasses had been placed on the table. She frowned and held her glass in Rachel’s direction. “Do you want some wine?”
Rachel’s cheeks tinged a soft pink and her eyes lit up like twin sunbeams. Then she patted her softly rounded belly that P.J. hadn’t noticed before. P.J.’s mouth fell open.
“You’re pregnant?” P.J. asked.
“With twins!” Rachel exclaimed, her smile getting bigger all the time.
“Holy shit!”
The women all laughed at P.J.’s reaction. P.J. shook her head. “I had no idea. Looks like I’ve missed a lot in the last six months.”