Kathleen Brooks - Secrets Collide

“What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean, Miles?”

“I got pulled in from the field to talk to some douche in a suit asking all kinds of questions about you and the family.”

“I could ask you the same thing. How’s the Army?”

“How’d you find out? No, wait. Don’t answer that. It was the douche in the suit in the middle of the freakin’ desert—or one of his buddies. Who’s recruiting you?”

“CIA. They want me for covert ops.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Yes. Y’all have had your chance to make a difference. Now I want mine. Paige is in college and Pierce is about to graduate high school and has accepted a scholarship to the University of Kentucky.”

Miles had been quiet for a moment. “Be safe. It takes a lot out of you to be someone you’re not. You won’t be able to tell anyone what you do. I’ll try to tame the questions on the home front, but you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If you ever need anything, you call me. I have enough security clearances to cut through red tape. Besides, red tape be damned. If my brother needs me, then I’ll be there.”

Cy had almost choked up. He and Miles hadn’t been the closest of brothers because of age, but he had known down to his core Miles would be there for him. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

Upon gradating from UK, he immediately went to Virginia. He graduated top in his class from the academy. After his covert training at The Farm, he was shipped to L.A. to begin his undercover work. Due to his penchant for doing dangerous things, the CIA had gotten him hired as a stuntman on an action movie that needed a driver. There was a scene where he was racing a car on the ice in Siberia. The director had been so impressed he’d asked what else he could do.

It turned out it was quite lucrative to be a little crazy. The more insane stunts you did, the higher the pay. Of course, while he was in Siberia, he was tasked with chatting up the local extras for gossip on the area. Being from Keeneston was a huge benefit. Small town gossip has always been an international pastime. Cy began telling stories of his hometown and, soon enough, the locals were telling theirs. One of which turned out to be a secret research lab for the military that the U.S. hadn’t known about.

As the years went by, he became more and more specialized in his skills for the CIA. He could get into any VIP club anywhere in the world thanks to being in the movies and having a leading actress on his arm for the night. He taped conversations, stole incriminating papers, planted bugs, and much more.

Miles had called him almost two years ago. “Marshall is in trouble. There’s this dog-fighting ring in Keeneston. We don’t know much more, and while these can be localized problems, sometimes they’re just a small part of a much bigger picture.”

Cy had gotten all the information he could and then called Marshall to casually investigate further. When he found out drugs and guns were also involved, he took it to his boss. After Paul Russell, the local man who was running for Congress, mysteriously died in an abandoned part of D.C., Cy's boss told him to look into it officially.

He sent the pictures and description of Russell’s death through the system, triggering the Department of Homeland Security and NSA to call his boss and chew him out for stepping on their turf.

“Those pricks over at DHS and NSA want you to back off. Apparently this Sergei character is a real badass. Well, you know who’s best at catching a badass?” Cy’s boss at the CIA had asked. “Another badass. I’m not backing off and I told them that, so don’t screw this up.”

Boxes arrived at his home in L.A. the next day. Bombings, murders, gun trades—all accredited to Sergei and his band of misfits. They all worked for a man the agency called Mr. X. Each of his troops, except Sergei, was marked with a Roman numeral ten tattoo under his wrist, the same tattoo he had just seen on the man on the fire escape . . . and the same tattoo missing from the wrist of the man who had fired at them. It was missing because Sergei was a mercenary. His only loyalty was to money.

Cy had never before gotten this close to Sergei and he itched to capture him but not with Gemma holding his hand as they ran through the night. Instead of taking Sergei down, Cy was going to go into hiding. The only question that remained was whether Sergei knew as much about Cy as Cy knew about Sergei?

Gemma held onto Cy’s large, strong hand tightly as she followed him. He was running through alley after alley until she had no idea where they were. She was thankful she’d started running for exercise or she’d be bent over throwing up by now.

She looked up his arm and to the back of his head as he confidently ran on. He was very handsome, maybe just a bit scary due to his mysterious side. The question was, should she trust him or not? He made a pretty compelling argument for why she should go with him. Cy was dangerous looking in that sexy sort of way. The man who was after them was dangerous in an I’m-going-to-kill-you way.

Gemma finally looked around and realized they were close to the posh part of downtown. “Where are we going?”

“To my apartment. I need to get some things.”

“I’m not going up to your place with you? Are you crazy? I still haven’t decided if you’re an axe murderer or not.” Cy was so the type of man her mom had warned her about. Sexy, confident, and he probably had a motorcycle, too.

Cy just laughed. It was a low deep rumble that had her biting her lip. He was definitely the man her mother had warned her about. “That’s fine. You’ll be safe downstairs,” he answered as he slowed to a walk.

Gemma looked down at her sweaty shirt and ran a hand through her damp hair. Hotshot over there didn’t even have a bead of sweat on his body. “What’s downstairs?”

“A club. The bouncer inside can watch you.”

“You live above a club?”

“Yeah. I’m not home much, so the bouncers look after the place when I’m gone and I help them out sometimes when they need it. Works out pretty well,” Cy explained.

They rounded the corner and Gemma stopped in her tracks. A long line of young women in sky-high heels and short to nonexistent skirts stood around as they talked and applied makeup. Cars and vans belonging to paparazzi lined the street and flash bulbs brightened the night sky. “This isn’t just a club, this is the freaking Le Vue. It’s the hottest and hardest club to get into. Trust me, I know. I tried more than once to get into that VIP section.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you didn’t have the right connections.” Cy’s cocky smile reappeared and Gemma rolled her eyes.

Oh, she had made it in, but it hadn’t been easy and she didn’t know the number of people she flashed in her trashy getup. But it had been worth it. She had gotten information about one of the giant movie companies paying off the most respected review critic in the industry. During her investigation, she discovered that the movie companies bought almost all of his reviews, even though he touted himself as completely independent.

“Squeeee!”

Gemma cringed at the high-pitched screech and Fred popped his head out of the bag and growled at the woman in knee-high leather boots and a micro-mini running over to him.

“Cy!” The woman flipped her long hair over her shoulder and threw herself on him. Her bright red lips left a perfect imprint on his cheek as the flashbulbs from the paparazzi went wild. Wait, Gemma knew who that was. That was the actress from the summer’s big chick flick, Summer Island .

“Hey, Autumn,” Gemma heard Cy say. Autumn Hayes moved to block Gemma out now.