His To Protect (Elite Force Security Book 2) Read online

  His To Protect

  Elite Force Security

  Christina Tetreault

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Books By Christina

  About the author

  His To Protect, ©2019 by Christina Tetreault

  Published by Christina Tetreault

  Cover Designer: Amanda Walker

  Photographer: CJC Photography

  Cover Model: Jered Youngblood

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Proofreading: Hot Tree Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. For more information on the author and her works, please see www.christinatetreault.com

  ISBN: 978-1-7329429-4-3

  Chapter One

  Thump. Thump. The sound of boxing gloves hitting a bag filled the air as Gabriel Wilson walked across the training floor and toward the stairwell. He’d spent much of his life in gyms similar to this one and barely registered the sounds or the smell of sweat anymore. Opening the door, he headed downstairs. At one time, the gym, located in a refurbished mill building, had only occupied the ground floor. When his brother invited him to become a partner, they’d expanded, and now it encompassed two. Upstairs, where he tended to stay, was designed for those serious about boxing, wrestling, and MMA fighting. However, the first floor was the area that brought in the real money. It was amazing how many people signed contracts for gym memberships, used them for a few months, and then never came back despite the fees they dished out every month.

  He passed by the glass wall. On the other side of it, he saw the gym’s indoor pools. At the moment, the slide into the family section was open and children of various ages waited in line for a turn while others swam. Across the way in the lap pool, swim lessons were underway in the first three lanes, while members swam laps in the last two. In the lane closest to the window, a girl about eleven or twelve years old positioned herself on the starting block and listened to the swim instructor in the water.

  It’s not Ava. Gabe clenched his fists and forced his gaze forward. For the moment, he needed to remain in control. After his meeting, he could go upstairs and beat the shit out of a bag or get in the ring with someone. He didn’t care which, as long as his fist made contact with something.

  Gabe nodded in his younger brother’s direction as he passed Xander’s open office door. While the second floor and the serious training remained his domain, Xander took care of the day-to-day operations of the gym he’d opened while Gabe was still in prison. Xander was also the guy people went to when they wanted to complain. Unlike him, his brother had the patience for other people’s bullshit.

  Entering his own office, he closed the door and sat behind his desk. He knew he shouldn’t do it. Looking at the picture would only fuel his rage, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening the desk drawer and pulling out the framed photo. In it, Ava, Logan, and his ex-wife, Savannah, smiled back at him with the Pacific Ocean and Diamond Head behind them. He remembered the moment he’d snapped the picture during their last family vacation seven months before his life went to hell.

  A knock on the door ripped him away from the pleasant memory. Dropping the frame into the drawer, he slammed it closed. “Yeah.”

  The door opened, and an employee who worked the front desk stuck his head inside the room. “Gabe, there’s a guy here who says he has an appointment with you.”

  He was only expecting one person this afternoon, and he was right on time. “Tell him to come in.”

  The employee pushed the door open more, and his appointment entered the room. Dressed in black cargo pants and a gray T-shirt, nothing about the man stood out. If someone passed by him on the street, no one would ever remember anything specific about him. Except perhaps his hefty price tag, but according to Zane, a guy Gabe had trained regularly until his recent arrest, the former Green Beret was not only good but also discreet and willing to bend the rules to get the job done. Even better, he didn’t care why you hired him or what you intended to do with the information he provided to you, as long as he got paid when the job was done.

  “Sam Nixon,” the private investigator said, extending his hand toward Gabe.

  Shaking his hand, Gabe gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Gabe Wilson. Have a seat.” Before he sat down again, he walked around his desk and closed the office door. The gym was a noisy place, but he wasn’t taking any chances someone would walk by and overhear their conversation.

  Sam waited until Gabe sat down at his desk before speaking again. “On the phone, you said you needed help finding someone.”

  Tapping his fingertips against each other, he nodded. “Yeah. In high school, there was a guy who helped with the wrestling team my senior year. He knew my foster parents were assholes, and I think he felt sorry for me. He used to invite me over for the holidays and stuff. We stayed in contact for about a year after I graduated. Then I left the area. I’ve been trying to track him down for a couple of years, but I haven’t had any luck. He doesn’t know it, but it’s because of him I’m where I am today. I’d like to thank him and his family.”

  Gabe had no problem with lying, but it’d taken him some time to come up with a plausible bullshit story to give Sam today. The private investigator had worked for criminals like Zane in the past, so Gabe wasn’t too worried the dude would say anything to the authorities if he later learned Armstrong went missing. Regardless, he saw no reason to share his true reasons with the guy either.

  “Should be doable. What’s the guy’s name?” Sam pulled a small notebook and a pen from one of his pockets.

  Gabe tensed the muscles in his forearm and clenched his jaw. “Edward Armstrong.”

  “Any idea how old he’d be now?”

  “Late fifties, early sixties.”

  “You said he had a family. What’s his wife’s name?”

  “Don’t know. When I saw her, I called her Mrs. Armstrong.”

  “Was he a teacher at the high school?”

  “No. He was an FBI agent. I think he was friends with the coach or maybe the principal, and that was why he helped out.”

  Sam jotted his answers down in the notebook and looked back up at him. “Do you know what field office he worked out of?”

  Gabe knew damn well the answer to that question. “Norfolk.”

  The private detective shot off several more questions. Many of them Gabe could answer. When he said he didn’t know, Sam didn’t blink an eye. At least until he asked about the last address Gabe had for Armstrong.

  Sam narrowed his eyes. “You celebrated holidays with
the guy and his wife but don’t remember his address at the time?”

  When he’d done his own brief internet search, he’d found several people named Edward Armstrong living in and around the Norfolk area as well as other parts of Virginia. He had no way of knowing if any of them were the guy he wanted. If he gave the private detective any of the addresses, it might send him after the wrong person, wasting a lot of time and Gabe’s money. He’d already lost enough thanks to Edward Armstrong. He didn’t intend to lose anything else.

  “I went to their house three or four times, and it was more than twenty-five years ago. Would you remember the address?”

  The private detective shrugged, but his expression didn’t change. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Sam’s tone told him the guy wasn’t buying Gabe’s story. “Listen, I don’t care what your reasons are for tracking down this guy. But the more info I have, the easier it’ll be for me and the sooner you’ll have his location.”

  “Like I said, it’s because of him I’m where I am today. I just want to repay the favor.” Something he’d been waiting four long years to do.

  Sam shoved the notebook back in his pocket and stood up. “I’ll be in touch when I have something. You’ve got my number. If you think of anything else that might be useful, call me.”

  When the door closed behind the private investigate, Gabe yanked the desk drawer open and pulled out first the photo and then the bottle of scotch he kept under it. He didn’t bother with a glass. His eyes settled on the family photo as he removed the stopper, and he took a swig. The smoky liquid burned its way down his throat and to his belly.

  He didn’t doubt Sam would track down Armstrong, his wife, and any children. Once Gabe had that information, he could proceed with his plan. Soon he’d destroy Special Agent Armstrong’s life the same way he’d ruined his. Gabe took another hit from the bottle and returned it and the photo. Then he headed back upstairs ready for a good fight.

  Chapter Two

  “How’s Hot Buns?”

  The coffee sprayed from Kenzie’s mouth all over the kitchen table and the bagel on her plate. Grabbing a paper towel, she wiped the liquid up while she tried to get her coughing under control. “Where do you come up with these things?”

  “Oh, please, there’s no way you haven’t noticed his ass by now,” her cousin said.

  Of course she had, but still, Hot Buns? It was worse than the first nickname Megan gave him when she came to visit several months ago. And she’d thought Mr. Too-Yummy-For-Words was a terrible moniker, even if it was an appropriate description. When it came to her next-door neighbor, the man was the total package, and that included his personality, which was something she couldn’t say about too many men.

  Before she could agree or disagree with her cousin, Megan continued. “If I lived closer, I would’ve snatched him up a long time ago, cuz. I don’t know why you waited so long.”

  Although it was unlikely Ryan would be in his backyard this early in the morning, Kenzie glanced toward the window over the kitchen sink that provided her with a glimpse into his yard. As she expected at five o’clock in the morning, his yard was empty. “He’s good. We’re going out again tonight.”

  “Date number six in like what, two and a half weeks? Sounds like things between you and Hot Buns are getting serious fast.”

  Leave it to her cousin to keep track of her love life. “I’m not sure you can count the first one as a real date. He was having friends over for a cookout anyway and invited me to join them. Neighbors do things like that.”

  Dustin and Annabeth, the owners of the house on the other side of her, had invited her over for countless cookouts since she’d moved into the community last year. They’d also invited Ryan, who had moved in a few months after she did to a few, as well as Josh and Robby, the couple who lived across the street.

  “You and Mr. Too-Yummy-For-Words have been neighbors for almost a year, and he never invited you over until a couple of weeks ago. Regardless of whether or not he had friends there, I’d put the cookout in the date category.”

  Kenzie wanted to argue with her cousin, but she couldn’t. Sure they’d chatted whenever they were both outside, and he’d even brought Marley home the day he escaped from her yard. But in the almost twelve months they’d been neighbors, he’d never invited her to any of the parties he’d had. Of course, up until about five months ago, she’d been involved with someone. Other than Ryan’s friend Maddie, she’d never seen any women coming or going from his house—not that she spied on him or anything. But she doubted Ryan lived like a monk either. In her experience, single men as handsome as him didn’t spend their free time alone.

  “Since you’re such an expert on the subject, I’ll take your word for it. But please stop with the nicknames already. If you keep referring to him as Hot Buns, next time I see him, it’ll probably slip out.” Even as she said the words, an image of Ryan’s well-toned butt materialized. The man had one gorgeous-looking backside.

  “Fine.” They might be almost four thousand miles apart at the moment, but Kenzie could almost hear her cousin rolling her eyes. “What are you and Ryan doing tonight?”

  Kenzie reached for the half of her bagel not coated in coffee and checked her watch. She couldn’t stay on the phone too much longer. “Not sure. He made the plans this time.”

  After sinking her teeth into the bagel, she licked the peanut butter and chocolate hazelnut spread off her finger. Other people could keep their cream cheese or butter. She liked her toast and bagels covered with an obnoxious amount of peanut butter.

  “I hope his idea of a nice night out is better than Cullen’s.”

  Kenzie grimaced at the reminder of her ex. They’d dated for two and a half months, months of her life she could unfortunately never get back. She probably wouldn’t have even stayed in the relationship that long if Cullen hadn’t been her close friend’s brother. The man’s idea of a great date night included watching him play in his bowling league every Friday night. Nothing against bowling, because with the right group of people it could make for a fun night out occasionally, but sitting there and watching someone else play all night was boring as hell.

  “Shelly has better ideas than Cullen.” Kenzie’s goddaughter was almost eleven, and whenever she saw her, Shelly asked her to take her either to the indoor rock climbing gym or for a hike. Regardless of which they decided on, they both always enjoyed their outings together.

  Megan’s laugh came through the phone loud and clear. “I don’t doubt it. I never got why you stayed with him as long as you did. Is Mr. Despot still bugging you?”

  Her cousin had outgrown several habits but one she’d never given up was coming up with nicknames for people. Sometimes those names were complimentary, and other times not so much. Regardless, they were always spot-on. Cullen had been boring, but it wasn’t his worst flaw. She’d put an end to their relationship because of his growing desire to control her. She was a responsible adult. She didn’t need or want anyone telling her what she could or couldn’t do.

  “He sent me a text message about three weeks ago. But nothing since. I’m hoping he’s finally given up.” The man really didn’t understand the meaning of “this isn’t working.”

  “If not, you could ask Hot—” Megan paused. “—Ryan to have a little chat with him. I get the impression he can be intimidating when he wants to be.”

  She didn’t doubt for a moment that in the right circumstance, Ryan and all his friends she’d met so far could be intimidating.

  “Yikes, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m supposed to meet some coworkers in ten minutes. They’re taking me into Bath for the day,” Megan continued.

  For the past two weeks, her cousin had been in Bristol, England, for work. To say she was a little jealous would be the understatement of the century. For several years, she’d wanted to visit Ireland again before popping over to England and Scotland and spending some time exploring both places. Unfortunately, for various reasons, the most recent being her decision to
buy a new home, it just hadn’t happened yet. But it was on her list of things to do within the next three years, right along with buying a convertible—something she’d wanted since before she even got her driver’s license.

  “Lucky.” Kenzie broke off a piece of her bagel and held it out to Marley, who was nudging her leg with his nose in an annoying and somewhat endearing habit he’d developed since she adopted him.

  “If you get a chance, call me tomorrow. I want to know how tonight goes. Does he know today is your birthday?”

  “I never told him.” And she didn’t know when his birthday was either. They’d shared a lot of personal information, including where they grew up and their favorite foods, but birthdays had never come up.

  “Whatever you do, have fun. Talk to you later.”

  Have fun? Oh, she planned to. But first, she had a day of work ahead of her. Birthday or no birthday, this weekend it was her turn in the rotation at the immediate care clinic where she worked as a physician’s assistant. On the positive side, at least she had the early shift.

  After ending the call, she checked her watch again. As long as she didn’t linger in the shower, she had enough time for another cup of coffee before she left. And she suspected she’d need all the energy she could get today. Regardless of the day of the week, the clinic was rarely empty. But since the start of the school year, every day had been a revolving door of sick children and often their ill parents. It happened each year once students went back to the classrooms or, as she liked to think of them, life-sized petri dishes.

  Thanks to the frequent lack of hot water in college, she’d perfected the art of a quick shower. So less than forty minutes after finishing her conversation with her cousin, Kenzie was hitting the button on the garage door opener.

  A glance in the rearview mirror showed nothing but sunshine and the houses across the street. The sound of a tinkling sleigh bell erupted from the cell phone on the passenger seat before she put the car in reverse.