HelenKay Dimon - Sheltered

One swing of his arm and he knocked Hank’s head into the wall. She aimed, ready to fire at anyone who came toward her. But the newest man reached down and dragged the blond to his feet. Then they were gone.

She stood there, unable to think. Unable to breathe.

“Lindsey?” Hank stumbled to his feet as he scooped his gun off the floor. “You okay?”

His voice snapped her out of her stupor. She reached inside her bedroom and ripped the emergency flashlight out of the socket, then grabbed the second one she kept just inside the bathroom door.

She fumbled to hold them both in one hand and aimed them in Hank’s direction. He blinked as he rubbed one hand over the back of his head. The other one, the one with the weapon, dropped to his side.

His gaze traveled over her, and then he frowned. “Where did you get a gun?”

Not exactly the response she’d expected, but until he asked she forgot she held it. “It’s mine.”

“Maybe you could lower it.”

She wanted to ask if he was okay. After all, unless he’d put on some great show, he’d just saved her from two intruders storming in and taking her away. But that wasn’t where her mind went. “Who are you?”

At first she didn’t think he heard her. He walked through the small house. Checked the front door. Looked outside.

He finally turned back to her. “You should think of me as Hank Fletcher. A handyman who blew into town looking for work. We met, started dating and now I’m at your house most nights.”

Wrong answer, and that was before she got to the boyfriend thing. She ignored that part completely. “But that’s not who you are.”

“No.”

At least he didn’t lie or try to shrug her off. But she still wanted an answer. “Tell me or the gun stays up.”

He leaned against the armrest of her couch. “Holt Kingston, undercover with the Corcoran Team, and right now the best hope you have of not being dragged up to the compound and questioned.”

She had no idea what any of that meant but grabbed on to the “undercover” part and hoped that stood for police or law enforcement. Really, anyone with a gun and some authority who could help.

Going further, the idea of trusting him even the slightest bit brought her common sense to a screeching halt. But as much as it grated, there was something about him. It had been that way from the beginning. She’d seen him in town and driving the New Foundations truck and she couldn’t stop watching. She chalked the reaction up to being cautious, but what she was thinking of doing right now, letting him in if only an inch, struck her as reckless.

Even now, standing there in his underwear, with this massive chest and...well, everything looked pretty big. Still, the fear that had gripped her body and held it to that spot in the hall eased away. Tension buzzed through the room, but the panic had subsided.

Ignoring the warning bells dinging in her head, she verbally reached out. “So, you know New Foundations is a cult.”

“Oh, Lindsey.” He shook his head. “It’s worse than that. So much more dangerous and threatening.”

At least he understood that much about the place that starred in her nightmares. That was more than her father ever understood. “Okay, then.”

His shoulders dropped a little, as if the tension stiffening them had ratcheted down. “So, we’re good?”

No way was she going that far. Not yet. Probably not ever. “Let’s just say I’m willing to hear you out.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

She let the hand with the gun drop to her side but didn’t let go. “Talk fast.”

Chapter Two

Holt felt the tension ease from his shoulders the second she dropped the gun. The close call would teach him to break protocol. He’d overheard two New Foundations bruisers talking about grabbing Lindsey and snapped into action. Gone to her house and the rest was a combination of pure luck and timing.

Not that he usually dropped cover. He rescued for a living. That was what the Corcoran Team did. Worked undercover in off-the-books operations, preventing kidnappings before they happened and when called in too late, being the first to rush in and get victims out. Hired by governments and corporations, they performed work others couldn’t.

His three-man team moved constantly but reported back to the main office in Annapolis. Connor Bowen owned the company and ran the show, including the four agents who worked out of Maryland. Holt only had to check in with one person—Connor—and the boss would not like how this assignment had spun out.

Holt could hardly admit getting his head turned by a pretty woman. And Lindsey Pike definitely qualified as that. She possessed a girl-next-door prettiness. The shiny brown hair with streaks of blond. The big green eyes. The confident way she moved around the town of Justice, Oregon, the most ill-named town ever.

She’d intrigued him from day one, and hearing she was in trouble tonight got him moving.

Now he figured he had about ten seconds to convince her that he was one of the good guys or see her whip out that gun again. Actually, from the frown, maybe more like five.

“Tell me exactly why you’re here.” Her expression didn’t change. Those lips stayed in a flat line as a sort of grim determination moved over her.

No shock. No panic. That told him she knew exactly how dangerous the folks at New Foundations were. Maybe she’d expected them to hunt her down. Maybe she’d been poking at them. Either way, she appeared to possess the type of intel he needed.

In cases like this, with the adrenaline still pumping, the simple truth tended to work, so he went with it. “There were orders to bring you in.”

“From?”

He had a feeling the call came from high up, but he couldn’t pinpoint it yet. “I don’t know.”

If possible, her frown deepened. “Of course you do. Who told you to come after me?”

That explained it. She still viewed him as attacker, not rescuer. “No one. I overheard men talking at the compound and got here first to warn you.”

“Compound.” She scoffed. “The place almost sounds nice when you say it that way.”

Not what he’d seen. Sure, on the surface, everything ticked along fine. The camp operated as a retreat. Cabins lined up in a serene wooded area. Communal gardens and shared meals in a dining hall. Staff had the option of living in less private bunkhouses a few hundred feet from the main area, behind the yoga studio.

It all seemed peaceful, the perfect place for people who were tired of being plugged in and those sick of government regulations or city life. But on the inside something festered. Groups of men would leave for hours at a time. The gun range had a steady stream of customers. So did the makeshift village built on the back of the property. The one where people practiced drills storming houses and learning how to fight off attacks.

But none of that worried Holt like the sheer amount of firepower he’d seen brought onto the property. He recognized the crates and couldn’t come up with a single reason a retreat that featured yoga would also have grenade launchers.

Corcoran had been sent in after information leaked. But finding former members proved difficult. People went there and stayed, which had government officials thinking cult. That was what Holt had expected on this assignment, but now he knew better. New Foundations had the makings of a homegrown militia.

He stepped carefully with Lindsey now, hoping he’d finally found a thread he could pull to bring the place down. “Apparently you ticked off someone at the retreat.”

“You have no idea.”

But he wanted to know. With her, he guessed the direct question might not get the job done, so he verbally walked around it, hoping to land on the information he needed. “Were you a member?”