Kathleen Brooks - Secrets Collide

“I’ll be damned . . .”

“You’ll be more than that. Her twin sister was murdered this evening and she’s holding the reason why in her purse. Her sister is Gia Perry.”

“Holy shit. Where are you? I’ll send St. John to pick her up.”

“St. John? He’s just a pup. No, I got her.”

“You’re retired.”

“And you can postpone that request with a push of a button.” Cy wasn't going to yield. No one was going near Gemma but him.

“I have a better idea. You’ll like it; it’s off the books. Take Gemma somewhere with you and keep her safe. I’ll assign the case to St. John and if anyone is looking in the files, all they’ll find is a note about her being in a safe house. They’ll find you soon, though.”

“I know.”

“There’ll be a jet waiting for you at LAX. I’ll call around and find a private air strip for you to land on so we can keep this off the books.”

“No problem. I know just the place,” Cy smiled.

Gemma watched Cy as he made his phone call. Fred licked her hand as she kept glancing around. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was off with him.

He hung up the phone and she could see him take a deep breath. Did that mean Detective Greene couldn’t be trusted? “What did they say about Detective Greene?” Gemma asked as soon as he started walking toward her.

“Gemma, those men who are after you are very bad men,” Cy started.

“I think that's rather obvious, don’t you?” She was starting to lose her patience. He was hiding something and she wanted to know what it was right now.

“They are professional killers. They won’t stop until you’re dead and whatever evidence you have is destroyed. I need you to come with me.” He was so serious that Gemma just nodded.

“No. Wait. How do you know that? Where are we going? To the police?” Gemma fired off her questions as they came to her.

“They are part of a dangerous international criminal ring. The tattoo I saw gave them away. It was a Roman numeral X. I’m going to take you to my hometown in Kentucky. A plane is waiting for us at LAX right now,” Cy grabbed her elbow and started pulling her down the alley.

“You think I'm going to get on a plane with you and fly across the country to Kentucky? I don’t think so, bud. I don’t know you, and you certainly aren’t a stuntman,” Gemma said as she dug in her heels to slow him down.

“You’re right about one of those things. I’m not just a stuntman. I’m CIA and I’m taking you into protective custody. No one can know where you are. Not your friends, family, or even the police. These men will be coming after you and I’m trying to give us as much time as possible to find a way to stop them. Now, we have a plane to catch.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I don’t see a badge. I don’t know anything about you. CIA, my ass. What are you, some kind of undercover spy pretending to be a stuntman? Please, that’s so Hollywood.” Gemma laughed as she started to get angry with her rescuer. These tales were just too much.

“Actually, yes. That’s exactly it. Now, we need to move.”

“I don’t think so.” Gemma pulled back. There was no way she was putting her life in the hands of a total stranger.

Bam! The sound of a bullet lodging into the brick building next to her had her diving for Cy’s outreached hand.

“What do you think now, honey?” he yelled back as he dragged her down the alley, bullets flying around them.

Cy maneuvered through the web of alleys and side streets as he tried to lose the member of Ten . Gemma had stopped protesting . . . for now. As he ran, his mind went back. It seemed ages ago that Cy began this journey.

As a teenager, he had been forced to sit back and watch his three brothers head off to the Army when all he had wanted was to join them. He was about to turn eighteen, but his oldest brother, Miles, had begged him to stay and watch over the family. Their younger sister, Paige, was just about to turn sixteen and their youngest brother, Pierce, was two years younger than that. And so Cy had stuck around.

In high school, Cy had been a nerd. He knew it. He took pleasure in outsmarting his older brothers—not an easy task for sure. He had developed muscles his senior year, but he wasn’t anything compared to his older brothers. He’d had a couple of girlfriends, but not the head cheerleader like Miles dated. And he didn’t have girls chasing after him like Marshall. But when his brothers left, he had taken his responsibility as the guardian brother very seriously. He took over all three of his brothers’ chores on their parents’ large farm. He tossed hay bales, mowed pastures, and then one day he decided it was time to try riding his dad’s old bronco.

Cy had been bucked off, but he had gotten back on. The horse jarred every bone in his body and his ass was sore for a week, but it was worth it. The adrenaline rush made him feel alive and he sought it out time and time again. During the summers, he competed on the local bronco-riding circuit and brought Pierce along to watch. Then he had gotten into dirt track racing. He built a car, handed off some of his chores to Pierce, who had gotten old enough to handle the responsibility, and hit the dirt track at night. He was on spring break with his friends when he fell in love with bungee jumping and rappelling. He knew he was becoming an adrenaline junkie, but he loved every moment. It prevented him from worrying about what was happening to his brothers and it got him girls. What else could a twenty-year-old guy want?

Upon returning from spring break his senior year, he took an aptitude test in his psychology class. Two days later, his professor called him into his office and discussed the possibility of a job with the CIA. “Over ten thousand apply, but I have an in with the agency. They'll be on campus next week for the job fair and I want you to meet with the head of recruitment. If he likes you, then you’ll need to take a drug test, lie detector test, and another psych evaluation,” his professor had said.

“You seem to know a lot. Are you CIA?” Cy had asked.

His professor smiled. “That instinct is part of why I’m recommending you to the agency,” he smiled, never answering the question directly. “And with the results of this aptitude test, I’m recommending you for covert status. Someone will be in touch.” And he was dismissed just like that.

The next week Cy had a meeting with the recruitment agent. A full background report sat in a folder in front of the man who looked nothing like CIA. His hair was long and he was in jeans and a button-up shirt. “I see you like a lot of action; racing, riding, jumping . . . all while never being arrested.” The man hadn’t bothered to look up while he pushed aside the rather thick folder he had on Cy and pulled out another one. “Are Miles, Marshall, and Cade Davies your brothers?”

Cy had just smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

The man looked up and took into account Cy’s cocky smile and relaxed posture. “I do. I also know about your brothers’ top-secret clearances. Did you?”

That had Cy sitting up. “What do they need top-secret clearance for in the Army?” Cy had paused and then smirked again. “Because they’re not in the Army anymore. Figures. What are they, Special Ops?”

“You're quick. Let’s take a drug test and then I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes for a lie detector test.”

Cy had passed both tests. He hadn’t liked the prying questions into his life, but he had answered them. He was then sent home. Two days later, a man showed up taking a survey and asked his mother all kinds of questions. He’d then given her a new crock pot. He heard his neighbors say the same thing. That night he got a call from Miles.