Page 83 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

It wasn’t Tess and Jesse’s fault their mother married a sick, narcissistic psychopath. Tess had gone through hell, and if she hadn’t escaped… Fuuuck. No woman should be subjected to that. Gant and Pritchard were lower than pig shit, and he wanted to rip their heads off with his bare hands.

Tess was an amazing woman. She’d left home with nothing. No family. No friends. No money. Somehow, she’d not only survived against all odds but gotten her GED, begun studying for her masters, and become the most incredible person he’d ever met. He really didn’t know what to think or feel anymore. His emotions where she was concerned were so tied up with his quest for revenge.

A shaft of early morning sunlight glinted off the framed photo on the wall, the one taken of him and his friends at FLETC on graduation day. They’d celebrated until they’d been drunk off their asses and could barely see straight. Now, when he thought of them, the only images that came to him were of the truck exploding and the flames engulfing their bodies as he was hurled backward.

Today, he might finally get his revenge. But at what cost? He was sending Tess back into the lion’s den. If anything happened to her, the blame would fall squarely on his shoulders. For the first time since the explosion, getting revenge didn’t seem quite so important anymore.

Last night, they’d both said hurtful things, and nothing could change that. He and Tess had scars inflicted by Gant, and the bastard was still slicing and dicing them both wide open. The man was evil personified, destroying more lives than Eric had realized. He’d destroyed Tess and Jesse’s.

Not if I can help it.

With renewed determination, he went downstairs, heading into the kitchen to make Tiger’s breakfast and a full pot of coffee. Tiger stood by his bowl, whipping his tail back and forth, his eyes bright with expectation. As he went to the refrigerator, the vase of flowers Tess had brought into the house caught his eye. The petals were wilting and brown, some littering the table.

Would he ever see another vase of flowers in his house or inhale the scent of lavender from one of Tess’s healing candles again? Without her and Jesse in it, his house and his life would be empty.

Just get through the day. Maybe they could figure the rest out later.

He yanked open the refrigerator door, rattling the condiment bottles. He prepped Tiger’s breakfast then put on a pot of coffee to brew. Slurping, munching sounds came from the corner of the kitchen where Tiger was making quick work of his food.

Four SUVs pulled alongside the curb in front of his house. He glanced at his watch. Six a.m. Right on time.

He set six mugs on the counter by the coffeemaker then went to the door and opened it. Matt Connors stood on the top step, carrying a hard-sided plastic case in his hand. Behind him were his other friends, Nick Houston, Kade Sampson, and Dayne. All wore dark cargo uniform pants and polo shirts with their respective agencies’ embroidered gold badge on the shirt. CIA, Massachusetts State Police, Homeland Security, and FBI.

“Damn, Miller,” Matt said. “You look like shit.”

Eric pursed his lips. “Back atcha, bro.” Then he grinned and gave his friend a giant bear hug, lifting him several inches off the ground. Considering Matt was about six-three and over two hundred pounds, that was no easy feat.

“Eric.” Nick came next, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back, followed by Kade, who did the same.

“Where are Markus and Jaime?” Eric asked.

“Don’t know.” Kade frowned. “Wherever they are, they’re not answering their phones. They’ve gone dark.”

Eric raised his brows. Markus was known to disappear on them, often for months at a time. Jaime, however, was the all-time poster child for staying in touch.

“They’ll turn up,” Kade reassured him. “They always do.”

“Hope so,” Eric muttered.

Dayne took up the rear, closing the door behind him. “Your girl up yet?” He nodded to the stairs.

“She’s in the sho—” Your girl? Was she his? No. She’d never really been his, and she definitely wasn’t now. So why were Dayne’s eyes glinting with amusement and the rest of his friends staring at him with shit-eating grins on their faces? “Tess”—he glared at Dayne—“is in the shower.”

Kade’s grin widened. “Oookay.”

“Is that coffee I smell?” Nick asked, rescuing Eric from more chiding.

“Yeah. It is.” Eric scowled at Dayne and Kade, then led the way into the kitchen and began pouring coffee.

He handed Matt and Nick their mugs first, noting the gold wedding bands on their fingers. He’d expected them to dig right into their coffee, but they set their mugs on the table then whipped out their phones and began comparing baby pictures.

Matt had been carrying around a lot of baggage, but since marrying Trista nearly two years ago, he was more lighthearted than Eric had ever seen him. Matt’s baby, Little Joe, was close to a year old, while Nick and Andi’s new baby, Rose, was a few months younger.

Nick’s eyes lit up as he handed Matt his baby’s photo. Nick had nearly been killed last year when a gun dealer had shot him in the chest. From all outward appearances, he’d fully recovered, and judging from the way the man’s biceps and chest filled out his shirt, he was back in fighting form.

“Get a load of these guys.” Kade jerked his thumb to where Matt and Nick oohed and ahhed over each other’s pictures. “They are so whipped.”

Eric snorted. Like him, Kade and Dayne were still single, but as he eyed his other two friends, he began to feel like an outsider, as if he were losing touch with Nick and Matt. They were happier than he’d ever seen them, and there was no doubting the reason. Their wives and their babies.