Total Surrender

  Brian had dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt that matched his sparkling blue eyes. His blond hair was tousled from the wind, and his smile wide as he took in her forest green dress.

  She grinned, her abdomen warming. “Thank you. Come on in.” Humming, she hurried into the kitchen to find a vase to place the flowers in the center of the table.

  She liked flowers, right? Yep. Safe and secure, that was for her. Not sexy and deadly. Not at all. Her odd physical reaction to Jory could be discounted as stress, plain and simple.

  A sharp rap on the door had her pausing. Okay. Good. This was good. Forcing a smile for Brian, she once again headed into the living room to open the door for her father. She blinked. He stood in black slacks and a button-down shirt, freshly shaved. Good Lord. She’d never seen him out of his black uniform. The sense of danger still clung to him, but in regular clothes, he seemed even handsomer. No wonder her mother had been charmed.

  Piper opened the door wider. “Come in, ah, Commander.”

  He strode inside, his gaze taking in the entire living room.

  She looked at the gleaming wood tables and freshly plumped pillows. For hours, after returning home, she’d worked her butt off to clean the house.

  He nodded. “You should probably call me Franklin outside of the facility.” Then he stalked toward the kitchen, his back straight, his body visibly on alert.

  Franklin. Well, that was a start. Her chest rose, and she took several deep breaths. Then she followed him into the kitchen, where Brian had clearly taken over for Rachel and was ushering people into seats. Earl hovered protectively near Rachel and held out her chair, while the commander—make that Franklin—studied Brian, his dark eyes inscrutable as he quite naturally sat at the head of the table. Earl sat at the foot like a vibrating cocker spaniel facing a bored Doberman.

  Nerves jangled along Piper’s arms as she delivered the food to the table. “Everyone dig in.” Forcing a smile, she took a seat next to her mother, not missing Rachel’s sigh of relief when she partially blocked the commander’s gaze.

  Piper shook off unease. Her mother’s nerves were sending out panic signals strong enough to slicken Piper’s hands with sweat. Why was Rachel so out of sorts? If she were frightened of the commander, she would’ve said so, right? Maybe the dinner had been a bad idea.

  Brian winked at Piper from across the table, and her shoulders relaxed. He then dished salad and handed the bowl to the commander. “So. Piper says you own some type of security firm?”

  Piper nodded and reached for the lasagna. While she’d hated lying to Brian, and her own mother for that matter, she understood national security. Not being able to discuss her work with either her mom or her boyfriend had made for more than one uncomfortable conversation. “The company monitors alarm systems,” Piper lied smoothly.

  Rachel snorted next to her and reached for the nearest wine bottle.

  The commander lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a realtor?” He said the last word as if asking if Brian handed out fliers on a street corner.

  “Yes,” Brian said calmly, amusement darkening his eyes.

  “And you’re dating my daughter.” The commander leaned to the side to view Rachel. “I don’t believe I was consulted regarding this.”

  Rachel poured herself a healthy glass of red wine. “It’s a little late for you to be consulted, don’t you think?” She took a gulp… and then another.

  Piper blinked. “Ah, I’m all grown up.”

  The commander kept his gaze on Rachel. “I believe we had a nice talk a while back, and that I’d be kept apprised.” His voice remained low and level, but a tenor hinted there that Piper couldn’t quite discern. When had her parents had a talk?

  Rachel shrugged and downed the glass, not looking his way. “So consider yourself apprised.”

  “Appraised,” Brian said automatically and then flushed.

  Oh, the dinner might’ve been a bad idea. Piper shot him a desperate look for help.

  His lips pursed, and his gaze hardened. He appeared neither amused nor exactly willing to lend her a hand. “So, Franklin. I take it you don’t like realtors.”

  Piper’s hand brushed Rachel’s as they both reached for the bottle of wine. At this point, she might as well open a couple more.

  The dinner continued with Brian irritated, Earl bristling, and Franklin arrogantly unamused. At Piper’s third glass of wine, the night took on a Cabernet mellow glow, and she finally relaxed.

  They all sucked.

  Finally, by some miracle, the dinner ended. Franklin politely thanked Rachel for the hospitality as he moved to go. Rachel may have snarled from a very happy place.

  Piper scrambled up and pressed a hand to her forehead. The room swam as if it, too, had too much to drink. “Let me show you out.” Stubbing her toe on a chair leg, she bit back a wince and hurried after her father.

  He opened the door and gestured her outside into a chilly fall night, where he’d left an innocuous-looking SUV. For some reason, Piper had expected a Hummer. She grinned. “That was fun.”

  “A realtor?” the commander asked, looking down. Way down.

  She shrugged. “It’s a little late for fatherly concern, don’t you think?”

  One eyebrow darted up. “No. However, he seems all right.”

  Piper tilted her head. “Really?”

  “Yes. Good posture, admirable eye contact, reasonably in control of himself.” The commander lifted a shoulder. “Not everybody can be soldiers.”

  Geez. Had Franklin just given fatherly approval for Brian? If so, why did that make her uneasy? “Um, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Piper shuffled her feet and turned toward the frozen porch swing. “Ah, care to sit?”

  “No.” Franklin settled his stance. “Why?”

  She rubbed her hands together for warmth. “I was hoping you’d tell me more about Jory. About his mission and about his past.” How well did they know each other?

  “Why?”

  She cleared her throat. “So I could have a more complete picture. Did you really raise him?” A tiny part of her, one she didn’t like, reared its green little head at the thought.

  “No. We recruited Jory when he’d turned eighteen.” Franklin clasped his hands behind his back. “I guess he might consider that his childhood, considering his earlier childhood consisted of him being a delinquent thief.”

  Piper frowned. “If he was a thief, why did you recruit him?”

  “Because he was a master at it. Brilliant, charming, and ambitious. I thought if I could harness that talent, I could make an excellent soldier.” Franklin sighed. “But once a criminal, always a criminal, I guess. Apparently I didn’t make much of an impression.”

  Piper patted his arm. “I assume not many soldiers betray their country for the Russians. Nobody could’ve seen that one coming.”

  “Perhaps.” Franklin ran a hand across his buzz-cut hair.

  She bit her lip. “Jory mentioned he had brothers.”

  “Figuratively. The recruits often band together as brothers.” Franklin winced. “Jory betrayed them, too.”

  What would make a man do something like that? Jory didn’t seem like he’d betray somebody he’d cared about. What had her father and Jory been whispering about, and why couldn’t she listen in? “I’m sorry,” Piper murmured.

  “Me, too. Good night.” Franklin stiffened his shoulders, turned on his heel, and headed for the SUV, not looking back.

  His feelings almost seemed hurt by Jory’s defection, which signaled an emotional connection. What in the world was really going on? The air cooled her heated cheeks, although her head still swam as she hitched back inside to find Brian stretched out on the couch, the TV remote control in his hand.

  “Your father is rather intense,” he muttered.

  “Yes.” She peered into the empty kitchen. “Where—”

  “Earl and your mom headed over to his place to fetch more wine.” Brian tossed the control onto a
pillow, his gaze serious. His gaze hardened, and his jaw firmed. “I’m afraid your mother is a lush. The amount of wine you consumed isn’t exactly admirable, either.” His tone could only be described as nasal.

  Piper shook her head. “Excuse me?”

  Brian stood, towering over her. “You drank too much,” he said flatly.

  Why the hell were all the men in her life so damn tall? She looked up at his face, her cheeks heating. “Watch your tone, jackass.”

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. His lips thinned into a tight line. “I’d watch your mouth.”

  Pain lanced up her elbow, and she jerked away. Who the hell did he think he was? “It’s time for you to leave.”

  He stood to his full height. “I agree. Call me tomorrow when you sober up.”

  “No.” Life was too damn short to deal with assholes, and the relaxed, almost relieved sensation sliding through her veins reassured her that she didn’t want him. In fact, she should thank him for giving her an excuse to end it. “We’re done. Don’t call me again.”

  He sighed. “We’ll discuss it when you’re sober. Tomorrow.” Smooth as any alley cat, he skirted the table.

  She set her feet. “Look at my face, Brian. We’re over. Don’t call me, don’t drop by, and please move on.”

  With a pretty impressive roll of his eyes, he let himself out.

  Piper glanced around the now empty room. Well, that was a night of grand fuck-upery. She’d just lost another boyfriend and hadn’t improved her work situation at all. While she’d discovered more about Jory, the information wasn’t anything helpful. More than ever, she wanted to get the job of saving him done so she could get on with her work. The man didn’t deserve saving.

  The clock ticked quickly above the mantle, and the night turned to the next day. As of the moment, Jory had exactly five days to live.

  Jory bit back a chuckle, sitting on his bed, his elbows on his knees. He’d finished a breakfast of runny eggs before Piper had finally arrived, being even more prickly than the day before. Whatever she’d learned about him had pissed her off apparently. “Stop ignoring me,” he muttered.

  “Ignore me back.” Piper firmed her face, her gaze on the computer screen, and her profile to him. Her too gorgeous, smooth-skinned, beautiful profile.

  “I don’t know what you think you’ve learned about me, but listen to your instincts.” Jory lost his smile. “Don’t trust the commander, Piper.”

  She lifted her chin. “I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust you.” Her face clouded, and she rubbed her arm.

  Jory narrowed his focus to the light purple bruise near her elbow. “What happened to your arm?” he asked, his voice going soft.

  She blinked and stopped rubbing. “Nothing.”

  “Piper.” This time he allowed the thread of command to echo in his tone. For the past two days, he’d studied her, and she responded to the tenor. Whether she wanted to or not.

  She swallowed and turned back to the computer. “We should concentrate on saving your life.”

  Yeah, that was important. But the idea of somebody putting that mark on her pretty skin propelled him to his feet, and he didn’t stop to wonder why. “I asked you a question.”

  She shivered. “Mind your own business.”

  “I’ll hound you until you tell me.”

  Her shoulders hunched, and she kept her back to him. “Why do you care?”

  Her question hinted at vulnerability, but he pressed on. Things were heating up, and the clock ticking down the deaths of his brothers echoed in his head. Perhaps it was time for honesty. “I don’t know why, but I do care. The idea of somebody hurting you will keep me up at night. So tell me.”

  She turned around, emotion sparking in those expressive eyes. “None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business.”

  Fire rushed down Jory’s spine, and his jaw clenched. “Did the commander bruise you?”

  “Of course not,” she scoffed.

  “The boyfriend, then?” Oh, he’d find and kill the sonuvabitch the second he got free. Well, the second after he deactivated the chips and saved his brothers. Then he’d take out the guy who’d hurt the hacker.

  Piper’s lips trembled in a sardonic smile. “I can take care of myself.” She tilted her head to the cage. “Better than you, actually.”

  His growl tasted like frustration, because damn, the woman had a point. With a sigh, he dropped back to his chair. “What’s your plan today?”

  She glanced at a delicate wristwatch. “Supposedly I’m getting some help soon with working on this code. We need to hurry up and save your butt.” Her fingers began dancing across the keys.

  The woman was a joy to watch. Even from the side. His fingers itched with the urge to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it had been in his dream. Yet all he could do was watch and wonder. So he let her work for about an hour, contemplating how her boyfriend should die.

  Footsteps echoed outside the room, the door opened, and a young teenager loped inside.

  Heat filled Jory’s breath, and his lungs constricted.

  Piper turned toward the kid. “Um, hello?”

  “I’m Chance, and the commander sent me to help you with the computer?” The kid strode to the second computer, all sinewy, trained, smooth muscle, not sparing Jory a glance. He moved with the grace of an animal, the symmetry familiar. Way too familiar.

  Piper rubbed her nose. “How old are you?” Doubt filled her voice.

  “Old enough, lady.” He pulled out a chair and sat, his shoulders appearing relaxed. The low tenor tickled Jory’s memory.

  Jory stepped back and dropped to the cot, his mind swirling. Buzz cut, fighting shape, deliberate movements. Even the contour of the boy’s head seemed familiar. “Turn around, kid,” he croaked out.

  The kid stiffened. “Screw you, buddy.”

  Jory’s feet slapped the ground as he leaped up. “Turn around. Now.” This time authority rang in his voice, strong and sure.

  The kid whipped around and jumped up, clearing the room to reach the glass. “What do you want, prisoner?”

  Jory’s mouth worked, but no sound emerged. His breath whooshed out as if somebody had kicked him in the balls. So he stayed silent, trying to remain upright, as he looked into the kid’s eyes.

  The kid’s gray, very familiar, Dean brother eyes.

  CHAPTER

  6

  PIPER TYPED AWAY on the keyboard, frowning as Chance’s fingers danced faster than hers. The boy hadn’t looked at her once and seemed more interested in the numbers flashing across his screen. “You’re very good,” she said.

  “Yep.” He kept typing, creating a new code with fresh commands to bypass the old safeguards put into place. While he concentrated on reactivating the connection between Jory’s chip and the old computer program, Piper worked on her new program to see if she could forge a new wireless pathway to the chip. Plan A and Plan B both in motion.

  “You’re an intern here?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  Jory hadn’t said a word since the brief but odd interaction between them at the cell wall. Piper glanced to the side to see him lying on the cot as if asleep, every hard line of his body relaxed. She’d bet her last penny the man wasn’t really asleep.

  When Chance stepped up to the cell, no expression had crossed Jory’s face. But something had happened. What, she truly didn’t know.

  The door opened, and Franklin stepped inside, smoothly crossing the room to stand outside the cell.

  Jory unfolded from the cot and stood on the other side. A moment passed when the two men stared at each other, neither moving, neither saying a word. Jory’s face remained hard and closed, and even his gray eyes remained veiled.

  What type of silent communication were they having? Piper abandoned typing to watch what appeared to be two deadly predators sizing each other up. They seemed to be communicating in a silent mode of threat only they could decipher.

  Franklin slid open the divider for lunch
trays and took out a gun. Jory’s head lifted, and he kept the commander’s gaze. With nary a twitch, the commander calmly fired three darts into Jory’s stomach. Jory doubled over, shuddered, and dropped to his knees.

  Piper leaped to her feet. Heat roared through her ears, and her lungs compressed. “Wh-What?”

  Jory’s gaze flicked to her, and then his eyes shut. Almost in slow motion, he pitched face first onto the concrete. He landed with a loud thud.

  Franklin whistled and typed in numbers on a keypad near the door. The cell door slid open.

  Three orderlies rushed inside and dragged Jory onto a stretcher. One groaned as they carried him from the room.

  Piper shook her head, her lungs seizing. “Why?”

  Her father shrugged and strode for the door. “We need to conduct some tests, and we don’t require him to be conscious for these.” Without another word, he exited the room.

  Piper swallowed and swiveled to face Chance, who’d continued to work through the entire action. “How are you still typing?”

  He shrugged, his fingers tapping, his gaze on the screen. “Have work to do.”

  She blinked and slowly sat down, her knees shaking. The entire scene had been violent, and yet Chance didn’t seem remotely affected. Her fingers trembled, and she stretched her hands out to the keyboard.

  Enough of the secrets. She was a hacker, damn it.

  Angling slightly away from Chance, she opened another window and began to tap. Layers upon layers of security hampered her, but she doggedly pursued information. Finally, she found the right section of the servers.

  Within thirty minutes, she’d written a weak program, created a buffer overflow, and gained administrator privileges. This was much smoother than the brute force attack she’d employed previously in order to learn the computer program dealing with the kill chips.

  Then she found the file.

  Jory. Interesting. No last name listed. She pulled up documents listing his recruitment, training, and assignments. A photograph of Jory at eighteen showed him as already seasoned and hard, his eyes blank and his jaw appearing to be made of rock. Had he ever been happy?