Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Two

Vance

I grewup in Atlanta to a single mother who entrusted my education to her father. A man who prefers to be called The General. I love my grandfather the way every child loves their elders: because I have to and not because he deserves it. I don’t have much respect for a man who treats his daughter poorly. He always makes her feel like she’s not enough. That’s one of the reasons he was in charge of my education. It was the only way to ensure that I wouldn’t screw up the way she screwed up her life.

I disagree with him. It’s human to make mistakes and learn from them. I don’t even think falling in love with the wrong man was a mistake. You don’t choose to fall in love. Love just happens to people. The only choice we have is to ignore the call and keep going with our lives or surrender our hearts and hope for the best.

Sadly, she gave her heart to the wrong man. It wasn’t a matter of making a mistake or screwing up her life. It was a matter of being charmed by an attractive, enchanting man who fooled everyone, even my grandfather.

William Tower Aldridge convinced The General that he was the best man for his daughter.

If not seeing past the mask my father used is a mistake, well, my grandfather also fucked up. Listen, I don’t judge either one of them. My father knew how to fool people with his lies. Everyone who met him says he was charming.

Since my grandfather didn’t want me to end up like my mother, or worse, become my father, I lived under his strict rules. I understood military time before the age of four. My bedtime routine started at nineteen hundred hours. That’s seven o’clock, in case anyone wonders. Lights were off by nineteen hundred thirty.

My grandfather had several close friends. Those friends he made while he was young, fighting for our country. In West Point, I didn’t make many friends. Once I dropped out and enlisted in the Army, that changed. I learned to trust the men I trained with, the ones I fought with. When I became a Delta Force, things changed even more. I was part of a unit. We became brothers. I trusted them blindly.

I trusted them so much that when I retired, and they offered me a position in their private security company, I accepted. I believed in them blindly. So much that I strategized the missions so everything ran smoothly. However, I never questioned their motives. I always thought we were working for rich people who needed our help. I was so fucking gullible.

A few weeks back, when I discovered that my youngest brother, Beacon, worked for a high intelligence security company called The Organization, I felt blindsided. Things got worse when he showed me evidence that I worked for mercenaries, which meant that, up until last year, I was a mercenary. We were men who worked with anyone who’d pay us the big bucks. I wasn’t aware of that, by the way.

I couldn’t believe him. I tried to contact Bennett Crawford, my closest friend and ex-lover. In my mind, Beacon wasn’t only lying, he wanted to make up shit about the men who I trusted with my life. Bennett never answered. The fucked up thing is after analyzing the report and the pictures Beacon gave me, everything came crumbling down.

My life was a lie.

Beacon and some of the guys who work for The Organization have been patrolling Baker’s Creek. They’re afraid my former unit is going to retaliate. I’d love to say they’re wrong, but they are fucking right. Other people from the same company are around the world hunting my unit. They’re not going to find them that easily. Or maybe I’m wrong, and these guys are good.

There are days when I want to leave the house and start a manhunt of my own. If I were in charge, I’d find them faster. They follow my protocol. However, if I leave this town, I’ll be breaching the will and fucking over a lot of people. I couldn’t live with that guilt.

Things between Beacon and me are tense. He glares at me every time he gets a call from his boss or one of his teammates. Like me, he hates sitting in Baker’s Creek waiting for news. Does he feel like an easy target? Maybe he doesn’t, but I do. I’m letting his people search around town and the outskirts because I already fucked up once. If they allowed it, I would search around too. I probably know the few spots where my unit could be hiding, if they were around.

If they are close by, they’re studying our routine and the men patrolling the town and the property. It’d be wise if Beacon changed the security team by next week. I’m waiting for them to deliver some tactical information. Maybe I can deduce who’s here and how we can eliminate them before they try to eliminate us.

The mere thought of having to choose is like a punch in the gut. I’m scared of making the wrong choice, not of dying.

It’s dinner time when Beacon’s phone rings. He ignores it. Still, Sophia, Henry’s wife, glares at him. When it rings again, he says, “It might be important.”

“We have a rule,” she reminds him.

It’s more than one rule. We have to eat together for every meal, and the phones should be in a basket while we’re having dinner.

When the phone rings again, Grace is the one who pulls it out of her pocket and says, “It’s an emergency.”

I don’t know what makes it an emergency, but my body tenses when she transfers the phone to Beacon. He walks away, and I follow him. He’s not keeping me out of this conversation. When he sees me enter the room, his shoulders slump, but he doesn’t protest.

“What did they do?” he asks to whoever is on the phone, and then he says, exasperated, “You don’t fuck with those guys unless you plan on killing them”—He pauses, looking at me. I’m waiting for him to ask me a question, but he continues his conversation—“Does it matter?”

After a long silence, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Fuck!”

I don’t pay much attention to the conversation until he’s rubbing the back of his neck, staring at me, and asking, “Are you serious?”

He flinches then says, “If the lawyer catches us, this is over.” After a long pause, he continues, “I got a report earlier that Jerome Parrish is in town. I’ll have the guys bring him over.”

He hangs up, taps his phone several times, and then heads to his closet. Beacon is always joking. His humor can be annoying, but he’s always smiling and worry-free. The guy in front of me is neither one of those things. He’s now wearing black cargo pants, a black long sleeve shirt, and a belt with a bunch of shit.

“Pockets and a utility belt, wow. It’s like you’re Indiana Jones,” I try to joke because he is freaking me out.

“Fuck off!”

“Tell me what the fuck happened.”

He gives me a blank stare. This shit is probably worse than I thought, and I might need to pull out my guns and some of my equipment too. Maybe his people killed everyone, and we…nah, that’s not it because he’s worried as fuck.

I have to be calm and try to communicate with him so that he understands we’re on the same team.

Because we are.

Aren’t we?

I swallow the knot forming in my throat and say, “Listen, I know shit is happening because your woman just jetted out of the house. And you were on an important call.”

He hunches his shoulders, resigned.

“They tried to play a cartel. Those are Seth’s words, not mine. It means they tried to keep the money and the drugs. They got caught. We wouldn’t care about it, but two of our guys need to be rescued. Seth has the blueprints of the ranch, and he needs my team.”

Fear ripples down my skin. This is a great way to take the security away and kill my family and me. Not that I’d let them. I dare to ask, “So you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I need you to fly me to Portland with some of my people. The rest will leave when Mason Bradley arrives. He’s going to be here in case your boyfriend isn’t dead. Maybe he’s alive and hunting you.”

He was never my guy. However, I do believe he’s hunting us. I need a plan, but I can’t count on Beacon because he’s leaving.

Fuck.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. Fuck, how do I save my family?

“I’m sorry. I promise to find out what happened to him.”

“Unless he’s spying on us and trying to kill me?” I suggest, but it comes up more like a question.

“If he were anywhere near, we’d know.”

Well, my brother might be well trained, but he is a little naïve if he thinks he can find my old unit so easily. I set him straight. “He could be hiding anywhere. We can camp in zero-degree weather without being detected. Even with all the security details you have around.”

“You’ve noticed them?”

I almost snort, but instead, I nod. “Just because I know what I’m looking for. They’re cautious enough to go undetected. So, what’s the plan?”

He tilts his head and walks toward the hallway. I follow him all the way downstairs. I hate that he’s not giving me much to work with.

“You going to a concert and didn’t tell me?” Pierce asks him.

Beacon doesn’t joke. He actually uses a severe tone to say, “Listen, we have a problem. Grace and I have to leave immediately. We won’t be back until tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

“We need authorization from Jerome Parrish in advance,” Pierce stops him.

“He should be here soon. Then I’ll debrief you.”

“He’s going to debrief us,” Henry jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I’m not the only one that can feel how thick the air is getting and how hard it is to breathe. “Those are big words for my baby brother.”

“I’d give you a comeback if I didn’t need to make sure your ass stays alive.”

Everyone sucks in a breath. Henry’s eyes widen, and he holds his wife’s hand. Sophia closes her eyes briefly, and I swear I can see her lips moving. I bet she’s praying.

Hayes steps close and asks, “What’s happening, kid?”

Grace, Manelik, and Jerome Parrish, our father’s former lawyer, enter the house. I still can’t understand how Beacon, his girlfriend, and his bandmate became security agents. There hasn’t been time to talk about any of it. Maybe someday I’ll sit with him and he’ll tell me the story.

“He was outside the house,” Grace says, tilting his head to Jerome Parrish, our cell guard.

“I came to visit.” Jerome scans the room. He’s wearing a trench coat and a hat. Once he takes off the hat, he asks, “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“No. I need permission to leave the country. Now,” Beacon says before explaining what’s happening.

My brothers are holding the hands of their wives. They don’t say a word, but I can see they’re scared out of their minds. I squeeze Mills’s shoulder as he picks up Arden, his son.

After some hesitation, Jerome agrees to grant Beacon permission to leave. We walk toward the helicopter, but not before Byron Langdon says, “I’ll drive to Portland, so you have more room. The security room in Merkel has more equipment there than The Lodge.”

“After dropping you off, I’ll be back to scan the area. I’ll land somewhere else, so they can’t see me,” I announce.

Beacon looks at me, rubbing his chin and saying, “You should land near the cabin. You can borrow one of the cars. We have equipment there. Look in the closets. We have plenty of armor, guns, knives, and ammunition.”

“Armor?”

He touches his pants and the shirt he wears. “It’s made out of a special material that’s bulletproof.”

I give him a confused gaze. “Who are you?”

He grins. “If you need anything and you can’t get a hold of me, contact Lang”—He pauses and turns to Lang—“He can be watching from The Lodge security room. After all, he worked with those men.”

Lang nods and gives me a card. “That’s all my information.”

“Do you have a count of how many guys they caught?” I ask no one in particular.

“I should have that information when I’m with Seth,” Beacon answers, serving me with a suspicious glare. His voice is reserved, distrustful. “Why do you need to know?”

“It might give me a clue into how many people are in this town. We’re not as big as your organization.”

He nods. “Okay, I’ll try to figure that out within the hour so you can start your manhunt. Do you want anyone from The Organization to help you?”

“No. I can do this better on my own.”

“Be careful,” he says.

“You too.”

As I fly toward Portland I’m already strategizing my search. But will I make it on time to save my family?