He was a man on a mission, one that included a beautiful woman and a little girl he’d die defending…

What a serious case of mistaken identity. Ashton Fitzgerald is no unassuming handyman but a highly trained sharpshooter intent on protecting Summer Worrall and her baby daughter. The Omega SWAT member has a debt to pay and he isn’t about to let Summer out of his sights.

For someone else has set their own sights on the lovely widow. Her unexpected relationship with Ashton has put Summer and her child straight into a madman’s line of fire. Suddenly a mission to make amends becomes Ashton’s quest to defend this little family with his very life.

Omega Sector: Under Siege

Summer stood holding her daughter, staring at the man she thought she’d known so much about, but obviously hadn’t.

SWAT.

She saw the exact moment Ashton heard Chloe. A smile brightened his face as he looked over at them.

Then faded as he obviously remembered where he was and realized what had just happened.

They stared at each other from the yards that separated them. Chloe kept yelling for him and trying to get down.

At least now Summer knew what Ashton had wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t like.

Her handyman was SWAT.

Daddy Defender

Janie Crouch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. The award-winning author cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Cherish novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. She enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Ashton Fitzgerald—Sharpshooter for Omega Sector Critical Response Division (SWAT).

Summer Worrall—Young widow and single mother. Lost her husband two years ago in an Omega hostage-negotiation operation gone wrong.

Chloe Worrall—Summer’s toddler daughter.

Damien Freihof—Terrorist mastermind. Determined to bring down Omega Sector piece by piece by doing what they did to him: destroying their loved ones.

Mr. “Fawkes”—Omega Sector traitor providing inside information to Freihof.

Curtis Harper—Being used by Freihof as a tool to take revenge on Omega Sector.

Derek Waterman—Omega Sector Critical Response Division leader.

Roman Weber—Omega Sector Critical Response Division team member.

Lillian Muir—Omega Sector Critical Response Division team member.

Tyrone Marcus—Omega Sector Critical Response Division team member in training.

Phillip Carnell—Omega Sector agent. Computer and strategy expert.

Omega Sector—Law enforcement task force made up of the best agents the country has to offer.

This book is dedicated to my aunt Terri and uncle Mike. Thank you for being a wonderful example of God’s love and goodness to so many. And for being two of my favorite people on the planet.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Ashton, it means the world to me that you would come here to fix this first thing in the morning.”

Ashton Fitzgerald, top sharpshooter for Omega Sector Critical Response Division’s SWAT team, had his head and half his large torso under the kitchen sink of a condo unit in Masking Ridge, a community just south of Colorado Springs.

He knew Summer Worrall, owner of said sink, didn’t expect much of a response from him, so he just grunted as he put a little more elbow grease into tightening a stripped nut on her piping.

“I don’t know when it started leaking, but it was definitely bad when Chloe got me up this morning.”

As if in agreement, nineteen-month-old Chloe began gurgling in her mother’s arms and clapping loudly. She obviously wanted to be let down onto the floor to play with Ashton, but Summer was keeping her out of the way.

“It’s no problem,” Ashton muttered.

Actually, it was a problem. He was going to be late into Omega Sector’s SWAT training facility. Not that there would be any true harm in that; the team was just running exercises today unless something real came in. But as soon as they realized why Ashton was late—because Summer Worrall thought he was the maintenance man again—they were going to tease him mercilessly.

Again.

They all knew, or at least knew of, Summer and Chloe. Her husband had been killed in a hostage situation gone wrong nearly two years ago. Then she’d been kidnapped by a psychopath eight months ago in another incident involving the Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division, an elite interagency task force with some of the country’s best agents.

So no one on the team actually begrudged Ashton helping out the young widow. What they found so hilarious was the fact that Summer thought he was the handyman for the entire condo complex.

And Ashton could admit he was a pretty mechanically minded guy. Growing up on his parents’ farm in Wyoming had given him a lot of skills with his hands. He could fix most household problems, given the time and tools.

“I think I’ve got this under control,” he said. “It’s nothing big, just some piping that needed to be realigned and tightened.”

“Oh good. I didn’t want to turn a big, formal request in to Joe.”

Joe Matarazzo, the main hostage negotiator at Omega Sector, who also happened to be a billionaire, owned the condos in which Summer and Chloe lived. That’s how this crazy misunderstanding had started in the first place. Summer had needed a handyman and called Joe. Joe had said he’d send someone trustworthy right over.

But then Joe had an emergency with Omega and asked Ashton if he could take care of Summer’s problem. Instead of calling someone, Ashton had just gone over to Summer’s home himself. He’d had no intention of misleading Summer, and had even introduced himself as Joe’s friend.

Evidently she’d taken that to mean Joe’s handyman friend.

When he’d given her his number, telling her to call him if anything else came up, Summer had taken him up on that offer. Eight times in the last few months.

Now Ashton had no idea how to tell her the truth.

And that wasn’t even the worst secret he was keeping from her. He grimaced and worked his way out from under the sink.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it all fixed under here. I just need to turn your water back on in the basement.”

Ashton pulled himself the rest of the way out from under the sink and stood. He smiled at Summer, trying not to let himself be taken aback again by her beauty. Petite, with rich auburn hair, pale skin with freckles dusting her cheeks and nose. It was colder weather now, but Ashton knew from the tank tops she wore in warmer temps that her shoulders were dusted with freckles, also.

But he definitely did not want to be thinking about her bare shoulders or how he’d love to play connect the dots on them with his fingers or—even better—his lips. Summer wouldn’t be interested in any law-enforcement lips after what she’d been through. Especially his.

“Ah-ta!” Little Chloe squealed and threw herself forward from her mother’s arms, reaching for Ashton. He caught her, taking her from Summer and pulling her to his chest.

“Sorry,” Summer murmured.

“Don’t worry about it.” It happened every time he came by. Little Chloe loved to see him. Not able to say the word Ashton, she’d taken to calling him Ah-ta last month.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiled at the baby. “You shouldn’t be so quick to jump out of your mama’s arms.”

He knew he wouldn’t be.

Chloe put both her tiny hands on his cheeks. “Ah-ta.”

“Yeah, but I might not always be there to catch you.” He adjusted his tool belt so her little feet didn’t get snagged on anything. The belt didn’t bother him at all. It was quite similar to the SWAT utility belt he wore in other circumstances.

“Ashton, thanks again for making this your first stop. I’m sure you have other places to be. Other units higher on the priority list than mine.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was no trouble coming by here.”

Summer’s green eyes filled with distress. “You mean you only came here for me? You’re working out of another complex today? I’m so sorry.”

Ashton never knew what to say, so he said as little as possible. “Yeah, I’m working at another complex today.” That wasn’t technically untrue; the SWAT training facility was definitely another complex. “Don’t worry. I never mind coming by here.”

Ugh. Now he sounded like he was about to ask her out for a date. He was sure she’d shut that down real quick.

“I-I just mean...” He trailed off. Was he actually stuttering now? She must think he was a complete moron.

She touched him on the arm. “I understand and I truly appreciate it.” She reached over and tickled Chloe. “This little wiggle worm does too. She always loves to see you.”

“I’ll just take her downstairs with me to turn the water back on. Is that okay?” Chloe was currently playing with his ears. Pulling on them with her surprisingly strong little fingers.

“Sure,” Summer smiled. “Give my arms a break for a few minutes. I’ll put this stuff back under the sink.”

Ashton turned with the baby and began walking down to the basement. He knew where it was from a hot-water-heater problem a few months before. As a matter of fact, for a newer condo, this place tended to have a lot of issues. But he definitely wouldn’t complain.

It gave him a chance to see Summer. Even if it was as the handyman.

Little Chloe began jabbering to him in her baby language, laughing as he bounced her as he went down the stairs. He didn’t know why the little girl liked him so much, but he would take it while he could.

Someday she would find out Ashton was the reason her dad had died. Then neither she nor her mom would want anything to do with him.

* * *

SUMMER LOVED HEARING her daughter squeal with delight as Ashton took her down the stairs. She felt safe leaving Chloe with Ashton. Not only had he proven over and over again that he was patient and gentle with her, Joe Matarazzo—one of Summer’s closest friends—had vouched personally for Ashton.

Joe had first sent Ashton over when she’d had a garbage disposal problem a few months ago. She’d somehow found multiple reasons for him to come back since. He must think she was completely useless around the house. But he never seemed to mind coming over to help with whatever she needed.

So Summer kept calling. And Ashton kept showing up.

With his tall, gorgeous body and thick brown hair. Muscular arms that stretched the sleeves of his T-shirts.

She had to admit, she didn’t mind the view whenever he was here.

She hadn’t gone so far as to actually break anything herself to get him to come over, but she’d never tried to fix even the smallest problem when it occurred. Since the unit was really bigger than she and Chloe needed—three bedrooms, two different levels, plus a basement—there did seem to be a lot of different things she could call him for.

Summer began putting back the cleaning supplies she’d moved out of the way before Ashton had arrived. Ashton barely ever talked while he was there. At least, not to Summer. She could hear him keeping up a steady stream of conversation with Chloe, but the most Summer got were short, direct sentences. He was shy and a little bit awkward. Unbelievable in a man with his looks.

Not that Summer would know what to do if the man could get a full sentence out and began to really talk to her. Then she’d be the one stuttering.

So she kept her one-sided attraction to herself. She was sure she wasn’t really his type. She didn’t know what that type may be, but it was probably someone more into things he was into...

Like being quiet.

She knocked her head softly against the sink cabinet door. She didn’t really know anything about Ashton. She knew some basics—that he’d been raised on his parents’ farm, that he still went out to Wyoming to see them as often as he could. She knew he was kind and gentle with her daughter and always polite to her. But she had no idea what he was into, what he liked. Only knew he tended to be reserved. A man of few words.

And that he had a face, hair and biceps to die for.

She would’ve totally given up on any possibility of anything ever happening between them if she didn’t catch him looking at her with heat in his eyes every once in a while. Like he felt the same attraction she did but couldn’t seem to move on it. He never moved on it.

Maybe because he was too shy.

Or maybe she’d just imagined those looks.

She put a stack of sponges where they belonged before closing the cabinet and resting her head against the wood. It had been too long since Tyler died. Too long since she’d had a man’s attention focused on her. And as much as she’d like that focus to be from Ashton, she didn’t see that happening any time soon.

“Okay, got your water turned back on and everything should be great.”

As she stood back up, Summer couldn’t help but notice his shirt had gotten a little damp, probably while he’d been under the sink, and clung to his midsection, showing off the perfectly defined abs underneath.

Weren’t plumbers and maintenance guys supposed to have beer bellies and ill-fitting pants? She may not know what Ashton did on his time off, but it definitely wasn’t sitting around watching TV and drinking beer, that was for sure.

And then she noticed how he kept Chloe up high in his arms so her little legs wouldn’t get damp from his shirt.

And darn it if that wasn’t almost as sexy.

“Ashton, thank you again for coming by. Especially since you weren’t planning to work in our complex this morning.”

He looked a little sheepish, she had no idea why. Chloe reached for her. “Ma-ma.”

Summer took her daughter, nuzzling her soft hair. “Hey, sweetheart. You have fun with Ashton?”

Chloe began jabbering an entire story only she could understand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you extra for your time? Coming out here—out of your way? I feel bad.”

Ashton’s eyes widened. “No. No. That’s really not necessary. You definitely cannot pay me. Summer, I should—”

He stopped, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“You should what?” she finally asked when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything more.

As usual.

He gave a tiny sigh, then a smile. “Nothing. Really, it was no problem helping you. Just call me if there’s anything else you need.”

What if she needed to ask him to dinner? What would he say to that? No doubt he would stutter and get embarrassed.

But would he stutter yes or stutter no?

Summer had been out of the dating game for a long time. She and Tyler had been married three years when he’d died nearly two years ago. So it had been over five years since she’d asked anyone—or been asked by anyone—for a date. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to start now.

All she knew was that it was nice to be around a man who didn’t know that her husband had died suddenly and tragically. Didn’t look at her with barely veiled pity in his eyes.

She turned toward the kitchen counter and grabbed a plate. “Well, I made you some muffins. Blueberry.”

She thrust the plate holding the half dozen oversize muffins toward him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Now she felt like an idiot. “Oh. Yeah, well, I just felt like baking.” At four o’clock this morning when she’d realized he might be coming over in a few hours to fix the leak. “And thought you might like some. I can’t eat them all.”

She wished she’d never brought it up.

“Oh, well, they look delicious. Thank you very much.”

He took the plate. She ignored the tiny bit of guilt she felt over the knowledge that he’d probably return the plate in the next couple of days and she’d get to see him again.

That was not why she’d baked him muffins.

He was a single guy. He probably didn’t get a lot of home-cooked items. That’s why she’d baked him muffins.

He glanced at his watch and winced. “Okay, I’ve got to get going. Just call me if there are any other problems, okay? And thank you.” He held up the plate.

He reached over quickly and tickled Chloe’s cheek, causing her to laugh. “Bye, you little heartbreaker. Be good for your mama.”

He was out the door before she could say anything else.

What would she say anyway?

Bring me back my muffin plate tomorrow and when you do, ask me to dinner!

She wished she had the guts.

Summer put Chloe in her high chair and set some Cheerios in a small plastic bowl on the tray. Within seconds, they were spread out all over the tray and she was trying to feed herself with both fists at once.

Chloe wasn’t much of a conversationalist either.

Summer had lost her husband to useless violence so long ago now. She missed Tyler every day, wished he was here to see his daughter and what a beautiful, smart, delightful baby she was. But Summer had long since accepted Tyler wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t want her to waste her life pining over what couldn’t be changed. He would always live in her heart.

So maybe someday soon she would ask Ashton out. He seemed like a good man, if a little shy, but solid, steady, dependable.

And hot as all get-out.

Summer could use a little solid-and-steady, even if the words sounded boring to her. She’d had enough excitement in her twenty-six years. First Tyler’s death, then eight months ago when a crazy stalker linked to Tyler’s case had taken her and Chloe and trapped them in a burning building.

Some Omega Sector agents who worked with Joe Matarazzo had gotten her and Chloe out. Joe had been able to stop the stalker and save his wife, Laura—whom the psycho had also taken—although only barely.

Summer didn’t remember a lot of what had happened in that building. She’d been drugged so everything had been hazy. She just remembered a man in full combat gear, breaking through the door of the small room where she and Chloe had been placed and carrying them both out to safety—as if carrying them had been no difficulty for him at all. The whole scene had been so chaotic, Summer hadn’t even been able to thank him.

So yeah, she’d had enough of excitement. Was ready for a little bit of boring, like maybe a quiet handyman. Although she doubted Ashton was boring once someone got to know him. At least she hoped not.

Summer almost absently gave Chloe more Cheerios before reaching down to grab the ones that had been knocked to the floor and throwing them in the trash.

Summer dreamed a lot—almost every night. Vivid, lifelike dreams. For a while they had been terrifying ones of Tyler’s death. Thankfully those had gone away.

Now she often dreamed about her kidnapping and the fire. She dreamed about the man who’d gotten her out. Who’d carried her safely in his arms.

Capable. Strong. Calm and steady under pressure.

But in every dream, no matter how it started or what she did differently, there was only one face she ever assigned to her hero: Ashton’s.

Ashton Fitzgerald may be strong. And even capable in a lot of situations. But he was no rush-into-a-burning-building sort of hero. Which was fine. There were all types of heroes. Ashton was just the type who came by early and fixed sinks, rather than leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Summer had no problem with that.

She just wished she could convince her subconscious.

Chapter Two

About an hour north, in a building the polar opposite of any of the lovely condos in Colorado Springs, Damien Freihof was bored.

And generally when he became bored, people started dying.

He took a deep breath and feigned interest in what the other two men were saying inside the abandoned warehouse just outside of Denver, where they all had agreed to meet since none of them knew each other.

One waxed poetic about the need for change. He wore an ill-fitting, charcoal-gray suit with a red tie and paced back and forth. He kept a baseball cap pulled low on his head to make his features, if not exactly indistinguishable, at least more difficult to describe.

“We will rewire the entire American law enforcement system,” he argued from the shadows. The man obviously wanted to keep his face—as he had wanted to keep his name—out of the equation.

Which was fine for now.

Damien raised his fist in the air. “Yes! Fight the power.” He barely restrained from rolling his eyes.

Red Tie stopped his pacing. “We will fight the power. We will change everything by destroying the law enforcement status quo. Once Omega Sector crumbles, other law enforcement agencies will follow. We will stop the corruption.”

It was obviously a rehearsed line. Damien had no idea how deep Red Tie’s following went, whether the man had only practiced his speech in front of the mirror or if he had dozens of soldiers lined up for his cause of restructuring the law enforcement system.

But Damien knew he worked relatively high within the elite law enforcement group of Omega Sector and wanted to destroy it.

That made Red Tie Damien’s new best friend. Inconsequential things like names and faces could come later.

If Damien guessed, he would say the man was some sort of active agent or SWAT member, based on his general discomfiture with his suit. He obviously didn’t like the restriction and was probably used to wearing the superhero uniforms the SWAT team wore. Plus, he was definitely fit. Maybe not quite right in the head, but definitely physically capable of doing harm.

The other man, Curtis Harper, the man Damien had contacted and brought to this meeting, had no qualms about standing in the open, his face and identity known to everyone.

Harper tended to be much more whiny and annoying in general. He finally spoke up.

“Dude...”

Damien had found in his years of experience that nothing intelligent ever followed the word dude.

“Dude,” Harper said again, “I’m not interested in no revolution. I just want to get revenge on the man who killed my father.”

Red Tie stared at Harper, his arms crossing over his chest. Everyone stood in silence for a long time.

“Damien.” Red Tie turned to him. “I’m not sure we’re all on the same page he—”

Damien held out a hand to stop the man’s words. He didn’t want Red Tie to scare Harper away. Harper served an important purpose.

An important, disposable purpose.

Damien walked over to Harper, putting a friendly arm around his shoulders. He led him away from Red Tie, toward the door of the warehouse. “Mr. Harper, you want revenge. Rightfully so.”

“Damn straight.” Harper nodded and moved his jaw strangely. Damien realized he had chewing tobacco in his mouth.

The urge to snap the man’s neck right now rushed through Damien’s body. He could feel the tingling need zip through his arms and fingertips. He’d be doing everyone a service by killing this uneducated, woe-is-me bigot right now. But Damien resisted the urge.

Barely.

“I understand,” he said instead, keeping his hand around the man’s shoulder. “And I want to help you get that revenge against Ashton Fitzgerald.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “That bastard killed my daddy. Murdered him in cold blood.”

Damien doubted very seriously that the Omega SWAT team sharpshooter had murdered anyone in cold blood, but he knew not to say as much. “Indeed. And he deserves to pay.”

“I should just grab my .45 and blow his brains out.”

If Harper had the backbone to do that, he would’ve done it in the four years since his father had died. Damien just squeezed the man’s shoulder. “You could, of course. I know you’ve got the guts. But why don’t you make Fitzgerald suffer a little beforehand? The way you’ve had to suffer.”

Curtis Harper lived every day of his life—before and after his father’s death—with a victim’s mentality. That’s how Damien had found him. How he’d been able to draw him into his scheme.

It was how he would use Harper to chip away at a little piece of Omega Sector. To kill off just one member, that, when it was said and done, would seem like an isolated event from a lone redneck bent on revenge.

Damien wondered how many isolated events Omega Sector would endure before they realized the events weren’t isolated at all, but carefully orchestrated by a great puppet master.

And now who was waxing poetic?

“Curtis, you go on home now and get ready.” Damien put just a bit of a Southern accent—totally fake—into his words. He wanted Harper to think they were cut from the same cloth. “I’ll be in touch soon with a plan I’ve got in place that will make Ashton Fitzgerald pay. It involves hurting Ashton Fitzgerald not only physically, but through the people he cares about as well. The worst kind of pain.”

Harper wasn’t worthy of knowing Damien’s entire design, his blueprint. Harper wouldn’t comprehend its enormity even if Damien told him. But Harper didn’t need to grasp or appreciate it in order to be useful.

Curtis Harper wouldn’t understand the plan, but he would help make the members of Omega Sector understand it.

Harper nodded. “Okay, Damien. Thanks.”

The man turned and spit to the side. By the time he looked back at Damien, Damien had managed to wipe the sneer from his face.

Curtis Harper was a means to an end, nothing more. Omega Sector agent Ashton Fitzgerald wouldn’t survive the next week, but then again, neither would Harper.

They shook hands and Harper left. Damien turned and walked back into the building.

“Curtis Harper is not the type of person we’re looking for to further the revolution,” Red Tie said. “He’s filthy and sloppy.”

Damien shrugged. “Not everybody can be a general in the war. You need foot soldiers also. Expendable foot soldiers.”

That seemed to appease the other man.

“Attacking one person isn’t going to bring Omega down.” Red Tie began his pacing again. “It’s not going to change the status quo within law enforcement. I’ve got no beef with Fitzgerald in particular.”

“No.” Damien held himself perfectly still in direct opposition to the other man’s pacing. “But attacking one person will split Omega’s focus. Then the next hit will split their focus more. And the one after that, et cetera, et cetera.”

Red Tie stopped his pacing. “But eventually we have to hit them hard. Not little hits. One giant strike with great force. I’ve already got something in the beginning stages.”

Damien smiled, showing just the right amount of teeth to make it look authentic. “To begin the revolution.”

“Exactly.”

“Be patient. We’ll make our most deadly strike once everything is in place. Until then, we just continue to wound them—both people inside Omega and those connected to them—without them realizing how much they’re bleeding out. Omega will limp along until it’s time for you to make your move. Bring the whole organization down for good.”

A huge grin spread over Red Tie’s face. “They’ve always underestimated me. They’ll never see it coming.”

So Red Tie wasn’t truly about the revolution after all. He’d been slighted and wanted personal revenge. Of course, he probably couldn’t see that in himself, had convinced himself of his visionary status.

Damien didn’t care either way. He would use whatever tools became available to him in his fight to take apart Omega Sector. Whether they thought of themselves as visionaries or just wanted payback, Damien didn’t care.

He would use them all. And when they were no longer useful to him, he would discard them all.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Damien finally asked the man.

He tilted his head in suspicion. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure I can trust you.”

The first intelligent thing that had been said all day.

“Shall I just address you as ‘hey you’?” Damien crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t really need the man’s name. Honestly, at this point he didn’t care.

“You can call me Fawkes.”

Damien gave a short bark of laughter. “As in, Guy Fawkes, the man who tried to blow up the British Parliament? Okay, Mr. Fawkes, let me know when you want to meet again.” Damien turned to leave.

“Wait, that’s it? What about planning the attack? The big one.”

Damien turned back around. “It’s not time yet. If we strike now, we’ll fail. We weaken Omega Sector one little piece at a time. And when they’re hollowed out? That’s when we strike.”

Damien was nothing if not a master planner. He’d always excelled at chess because he played four moves ahead of where the pieces currently sat on the table.

Fawkes didn’t looked pleased. “Maybe you’re afraid. Maybe I’ve come to the wrong person.”

Damien didn’t rise to the bait. Wasn’t even tempted. He walked closer to Fawkes and touched his tie, waiting to see if the action would spur Fawkes to violence. Fawkes tensed but didn’t do anything.

Good. More self-control than Damien had given him credit for. Fawkes would need it in the weeks ahead.

“You’ll have your revolution when the time is right, Mr. Fawkes. Be patient. Continue gathering your intel, both on those inside the organization and those connected to it. Finding vulnerable spots we can stab quickly, retreating before they know they’re wounded. Never knowing the largest wound is yet to come.”

The younger man still didn’t like it. But he nodded. Damien smiled and slapped him on his shoulder. “Good. Then, until we meet again, Mr. Fawkes.”

He turned to leave but then stopped at Fawkes’ final words.

“You know, you’re awfully trusting with who you give your name to. I know who you are. Even Harper knows who you are. Aren’t you afraid Omega Sector is going to find out about you?”

Damien didn’t turn back around. “Not worried at all. Omega Sector already knows about me. They’re the ones who created me in the first place.”

“When they stopped you from blowing up yourself and all those people in that bank nearly five years ago?”

Now Damien turned around, eyebrow raised. “You’ve done your homework, Mr. Fawkes.”

“I always check every possible angle.”

Damien doubted this man could even see every possible angle, much less check them. “If Omega hadn’t interfered, I would’ve been long dead by now. But they did. Thankfully, I must say.”

And what Fawkes didn’t know—what Damien himself hadn’t even known until recently—was that Omega Sector had created him long before they stopped him from blowing up that bank. Long before they’d thrown him in that prison.

They’d created him when they’d killed his precious Natalie seven years ago.

And now they would pay. Would know the agony he’d known at her death.

Damien took a few steps toward Fawkes. “I have no doubt Omega Sector will eventually figure out it’s me behind the little attacks. Honestly, I hope it’s sooner rather than later. You are the one we’ve got to keep hidden.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll never suspect me.”

“Make sure, Fawkes. Because your revolution will never get off the ground at all if they do.”

“You worry about your part, I’ll worry about mine. I’ve already got something in the works that will start shaking them up.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Anything I should know about?”

The other man smiled. “No. Just an extra little something to splinter their focus. Like you said.”

Damien fought a grimace. The problem with working with someone like Fawkes was that the man was just smart enough, just ambitious enough, to have plans of his own. Plans Damien hadn’t created and therefore didn’t control. But Damien knew when to back off. This was one of those times.

“Okay, then. Just be careful. Don’t lose the war just to win one battle.”

Fawkes shrugged. “I won’t. I know the endgame.”

Fawkes thought he knew the endgame. He didn’t. But Damien just nodded at him. “I’ll look forward to our next meeting.”

He turned again and walked out the door of the warehouse, putting on sunglasses as he stepped into the bright sun shining over the Rockies framing Denver. He’d be in his car in two minutes. Five minutes after that, he would change his appearance enough that he’d be able to walk right by Fawkes or Curtis Harper and neither of them would ever recognize Damien.

It was just one of Damien’s skills and one of the reasons he’d been able to avoid capture by Omega Sector for the last ten months since he broke out of prison. They were looking for someone who didn’t match Damien’s description at all.

Damien Freihof was the greatest criminal mastermind Omega Sector had ever battled. He didn’t care if he was waxing poetic now. Truth was truth. Omega was at war, they just didn’t know it yet.

They’d targeted him for years. Now it was their turn to become the target.

Chapter Three

“All I’m saying is that she thinks you’re the janitor,” Roman Weber said as he ran at Ashton.

Ashton grimaced as Roman’s boot hit his linked fingers. He used his leg and arm strength to boost his teammate up onto the fifteen foot wooden wall, part of the obstacle course the SWAT team regularly completed.

It was supposed to not only build fitness, but promote teamwork. Right now, Ashton just wanted to push his teammates over the wall, then run the other way.

“That’s about as firmly parked in the friend zone as you can get. Janitor.” Lillian Muir, Omega’s only female SWAT agent, snickered. Being the lightest, she would be the last up the wall, since any of the other team members could pretty much hoist her up one-handed.

Derek Waterman, SWAT team leader, stood beside Ashton to boost other members up the wall and shook his head. “Let’s focus, people. Plus, we have a guest.”

Tyrone Marcus, not yet a full-fledged member of the SWAT team, had joined them for this morning’s training and was next over the wall. The younger man smiled at the banter as he flew toward Derek and Ashton, jumped into their waiting hands and pulled himself the rest of the way up. But he didn’t say anything.

Ashton knew he liked that kid for a reason.

Derek nodded his head up, indicating it was Ashton’s turn. Ashton jogged back about ten feet from the wall, then burst forward in a sprint. As he jumped onto Derek’s waiting hands, Derek’s push upward helped propel Ashton to the top. From there, the other team members helped him climb over.

Ashton immediately turned and reached his arm down, along with Roman. Derek was already running toward the wall, using his huge size to propel himself up and catch their arms. Ashton and Roman pulled Derek, then reached back down so they could do the same with Lillian.

She was much lighter and faster and soon the whole team was over the wall, the final obstacle on the course. Everyone sat, catching their breath.

“I don’t know that he’s in the friend zone,” Liam Goetz, hostage rescue specialist, said. “She did make him muffins.”

Ashton shook his head. “You guys give it a rest, will you?”

“Uh, she made muffins for the janitor who came over to fix her sink,” Roman argued, blatantly ignoring Ashton.

Lillian reached over and high-fived him. “That just means Fitzy is parked in the VIP section of the friend zone. Still the friend zone.”

Ashton closed his eyes, wishing that would make them all go away. Even the new kid was grinning, although he still hadn’t said anything about it.

Not that anything anyone had said was untrue. How he’d let this situation with Summer, the only woman he’d had real feelings for in years, get so out of hand he didn’t know.

“She doesn’t think I’m the janitor. She thinks I’m the building’s maintenance man. There’s a difference,” he muttered.

Mistake.

Everyone burst out laughing, now arguing the difference between maintenance man and janitor. They all jumped down from the wall and walked back toward the building, except for Ashton and Derek.

“Hey, we’re hitting the new gas and airborne substances simulator in an hour,” Derek yelled out after them. “But not you this time, Tyrone. Sorry. Everyone else, be ready.”

They all nodded and responded, slapping Tyrone on the back. He’d make a good team member after another few months of training.

Ashton just leaned back against the wall, enjoying the quiet.

“You need to tell Summer who you really are,” Derek finally said. “Not telling her is going to bite you in the ass eventually.”

Derek wasn’t one to run his mouth like the rest of the team. He didn’t share his opinion for no reason or generally participate in the teasing. So when Derek spoke, people listened.

Ashton opened his eyes. “I know.” He grimaced. “Although I’m so concerned about saying the wrong thing around her, I can barely get a sentence out. She must think I’m a moron.”

Derek chuckled. “I doubt it. Maybe a little shy or something.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “If my mother could hear someone calling me shy. The one of her three kids who never shut up. She would have a field day.”

“Everybody likes Summer. And you have too many mutual friends for her not to find out who you are eventually. It’ll be better coming from you.”

Ashton hit the back of his head against the wooden wall. “If it was just about her thinking I was the maintenance guy, I would tell her.”

“But you’re worried about the situation on the day her husband died.”

As always, the bile pooled in his stomach at the thought. “I had the shot, Derek. I could’ve taken that hostage-taker out. Tyler Worrall and those others would still be alive. Summer would still have a husband and Chloe would still have a father.”

“We’ve all been over the footage, Ash. Us as a team. Steve Drackett and the review board. Taking the shot that early would’ve been a mistake. Joe thought he could talk the guy down. We all thought he could talk the guy down.”

But there had been a second, right before the man pulled out the hand grenade that killed nearly everyone in the room, that Ashton could’ve done something. He’d been on the building across the street with his sniper rifle.

He should’ve taken the shot. His gut had told him to take the shot. But he’d ignored it.

And people had died.

Ashton shrugged. “Well, I don’t think Summer is going to be interested in dating the guy who could’ve saved her husband’s life.”

“You know, Joe Matarazzo already tried to claim blame for Tyler Worrall’s death. Summer wouldn’t let him. What makes you think she’s going to hold you at fault?”

Because she didn’t know—nobody knew—about that second shot Ashton could’ve taken as the man was pulling out the hand grenade from his pocket. Ashton’s hesitation had lost the shot, then cost everyone in the room their lives.

Ashton shrugged. “Gut feeling.”

Derek slapped him on his shoulder. “Well, sometimes our gut feelings about women leave a little to be desired.”

Ashton stood up. “Let’s go battle with tear gas. That should be more fun.”

* * *

A GOOD MAJORITY of the SWAT team’s time was spent in training. Running different scenarios so they would be more prepared once they were out in the field.

A lot of exercises—like the obstacle course they did this morning—were for physical fitness and general team building. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The team often had to go into situations with multiple unknown or rapidly changing variables. Their training exercises ensured team cohesiveness.

Most of the training was routine: do it once, do it again, until there were no mistakes. They spent hours at the firing range together. In simulators together. Rappelling down walls. Studying hostage rescue, shields, vehicle assaults, even tactical medicine.

Despite the jokes this morning, most of the SWAT team’s training was taken seriously by everyone. It required focus, tenacity and teamwork. Often pushing themselves to the brink of mental and physical exhaustion.

It was hard. But that’s why not everyone did it. Only the ones who made the cut.

You could damn near see the excitement in the room now as everyone on the team gathered around the training techs to hear about the new challenge they were about to undergo.

Facing something new as a team had them all itching with enthusiasm. You never got a second first chance.

“Alright, boys and girls.” Steve Drackett, director of the entire Critical Response Division, was present for this inaugural training session. “Sadly, responding to tear gas and airborne elements is almost becoming routine in this day and age. We need a place where all SWAT teams can train. It won’t be just us using this facility, but departments from around the country.”

Drackett turned to the half dozen people standing around—some in lab coats, some in suits, a few from other SWAT teams besides Omega Sector’s.

“The designers—made up of analysts, computer experts, airborne terrorism experts, chemists and some of the best video game developers in the country—have pulled exactly zero punches with this new training facility. This is about as real as it gets outside of an actual combat zone, including actual tear gas.”

Steve smiled, but nothing about the facial movement felt comforting. “Participants might wish it wasn’t quite so real by the time they’re through, including the physical stimuli that will occur when someone gets shot. But I can guarantee you will be more prepared for your next critical response call involving gas or a possible airborne bioterrorism attack.”

Ashton shifted from where he was leaning against the doorframe. “Sounds like the developers are taking a little too much joy in our pain, boss.”

One of the men in a lab coat, complete with pocket protector and glasses, shrugged. “If you don’t get shot by anything, there won’t be any pain.”

Ashton cracked a smile. So the nerds wanted a fight. “Fair enough.”

He saw Lillian’s fist stretch out from where she stood next to him and he tapped it.

“The sensors are worn over your normal gear,” the lab coat guy continued. “Light and flexible enough that it shouldn’t impede your movement or speed in anyway. It will just...notify you when you’ve been hit by a subject’s weapon.”

Everyone noticed the slight hesitation and ghost of a smile on the tech guy’s face as he said notify. Evidently the notification wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Enough talk.” Roman Weber smiled, although no one in their right mind would call the facial expression inviting. “Let’s get to the action. Bring it on.”

The SWAT team was dressed in full tactical gear, just as they had been when they ran the obstacle course this morning. It only took a few minutes to get from the briefing room to the warehouse-sized simulator. Knowing everyone would be watching from the briefing room kept the pressure up, but that would be the least of their worries in a few minutes.

“We’ve got a big audience, people, so you can expect that they’re going to be throwing everything at us, up to and including the kitchen sink,” Derek told them. “Look sharp and watch each other’s six.”

Because the scenario involved possible tear gas but didn’t guarantee it, none of them had their masks on yet. The ability to get the masks situated quickly was an important part of a real-life airborne attack.

They stood inside the holding room. In just a moment, the door would open and the clock would start. One of the revolutionary parts of this simulator was its ability to mechanically reset rooms and situations. Every time the door opened, the team entering would be facing a different scenario.

Just like real life.

The door flew open and they got into formation, entering the darkened hallway so that everyone was facing a different angle. Using abbreviated sign language, the six-person team motioned to each other about who would take the lead and who would bring up the rear.

Everyone was focused but had the slightest smiles pulling at their faces. The team lived for this sort of challenge.

The scenario was a dark alley, amazingly lifelike. Ashton reached over and touched one of the “city” walls. He couldn’t feel the texture through his gloves, but it obviously had weight behind it, like a real wall.

An announcement from what would be the equivalent of dispatch came in through the earpieces they all were wearing.

“SWAT team, we have intel that a group of five men is attempting to exit a bank two blocks to your north. Be advised suspects have hostages and have released tear gas into the vicinity.”

“Masks on, people,” Derek said as they began jogging toward the north, staying close to the wall. Soon they were around the corner from the bank.

The bad guys the team was combatting resembled lifelike robots. They had sensors on their frames that could pick up on any movement or sound within human parameters. If a person could see or hear the SWAT team, the robots would be able to also.

And shoot accordingly.

Not real bullets of course, but the entire team’s gear was covered in a netting that held sensors. The same ones the lab guy had explained would notify them when they’d been hit. Shots the bad guys took and the team received would be marked and counted against them. A direct shot to the head or enough shots to the chest—even with vests—would “kill” the SWAT member and they would be unable to help the team any longer.

Basically it was a game of laser tag but much more intense.

“Ashton, Liam, I want you to find some way to get to higher ground so we can take shots if needed. Lillian, Roman, keep lower.”

The sound of gunfire—scarily realistic—could be heard throughout the building.

Everybody scattered, each going to their assigned place.

It really was an amazing facility. Ashton jumped up and grabbed a fire escape ladder and pulled it down. It easily supported his weight as he climbed up. If he didn’t know he was in a simulator, he would swear he was on a city street at night. The creators had captured the chaos of a hostage situation with eerie accuracy.

Ashton spotted the window he wanted to get to. It would give him excellent vision into the bank.

He looked at Liam. “I’m heading up to that window.”

“Roger that. I’ll stay here.”

Ashton had to make a pretty big leap over to the next “building,” but grabbed the balcony and pulled himself up with no problem. He eased along the ledge to get to the window he wanted. Carefully.

Simulator or not, a fall from twenty feet would do some serious damage.

Once he made it through the window, he pulled out his mock sniper rifle.

Ashton spoke into his mic. “All set, Derek. I have visibility on the targets.”

“Roger that.”

“I’m in position, too, Derek,” Liam said. “Ashton and I can take out at least three of the perps.”

“Hold. We’re working our way around behind them.”

From his riflescope, Ashton watched as Roman made his way down the edge of the wall, using the smoke for cover. Ashton couldn’t see where Lillian moved, but that wasn’t unusual. Her smaller size gave her a distinct advantage in situations like this.

“Whoa, Roman, bogey on your six.”

Ashton saw the human-looking robot step out from around the corner and aim at Roman. Ashton took the shot, even though he knew it would be too late.

The robot immediately powered down as Ashton’s electronic bullet hit him, but the damage had already been done. Roman’s suit lit up in the shoulder.

Roman’s obscenities flew over the comm units. Ashton watched through his sniperscope as Roman grabbed the shoulder that had been “hit.”

“Damn it, that hurts.” Roman’s voice was tight with pain.

“What?” Everyone asked it at the same time.

“Those sensors,” Roman said, teeth clearly gritted. “Shocked the hell out of me when I got hit and it’s still sending a pretty damn painful pulse every few seconds.”

Not unlike what you would feel if you got shot in real life while on a mission. Although probably not nearly as painful.

“So I guess you’re not dead,” Liam said.

Roman cursed again under his breath. “No. Just wounded. No wonder that lab coat bastard was all but laughing.”

“Alright, that’s it. Let’s finish this. If they’re going to use force, I’m not going to hesitate to order you all to do so, too,” Derek said.

It was over less than two minutes later.

Ashton and Liam picked off three more of the six—five had been bad intel from the beginning, a nice little twist in the game—Lillian was able to take the other two from where she’d successfully sneaked around behind them.

The lights came up, and all mechanical bad guys stopped moving. The good guys had won that particular scenario.

“Alright, people, we’re going to need to debrief. Not just our actions but how everything worked in here,” Derek said. “Meet in the control room in fifteen minutes.”

Ashton took off his gas mask now that overhead ventilation units were sucking all the residual tear gas and smoke out of the building.

He stood up and looked around the room he had crawled into to take his shots. It looked just like an apartment living room. Maybe the room would be part of another scenario—domestic hostage-taking or something.

He turned to walk to the window so he could crawl back out and find a way to the ground when metal shutters suddenly dropped from the ceiling, covering the window, blocking his route.

Great. There went that exit. When the scenario finished, obviously everything shut down. Literally.

Ashton turned toward the door on the other side of the room; the only other exit. He’d find his way back down using that.

But the metal shutters dropped from the ceiling there, too, covering the door.

“Um, Derek, I’ve got a situation here. I think Big Brother just locked me in the apartment building room I was using as cover.”

Liam laughed. “I guess they don’t have all the bugs worked out.”

“Roger that, Ashton.” Derek responded. “The control room should be able to hear this conversation and let you out soon.”

“But until that time,” Roman piped up, “please use your isolation to reflect on how you plan to move yourself out of the friend zone with the lovely Ms. Worrall.”

Ashton rolled his eyes and gave a mock laugh. “You know what? You guys can kiss my—”

His words froze up as every sensor on his clothing and gear began to jolt him repeatedly. Ashton dropped to the ground, his muscles seizing up from pain, as almost every inch of his body was bombarded by a near constant flow of electric shock.

Chapter Four

All Ashton could do for the first few moments of the shocks burning throughout his body was survive. The pulse faded and he struggled to heave breath into his lungs, cursing through gritted teeth as the shocks amped up again.

“Fitzy, what’s going on?” Ashton could hear Roman’s voice but couldn’t respond, unable to unclench his jaw. He could feel his vision begin to fade but knew if he lost consciousness he’d die here in this room.

Ashton slid toward the metal shutters that had covered the window he’d climbed in and slammed against it with his foot as hard as he could.

“Ashton, report.” Derek was in full team leader mode, but Ashton couldn’t speak. He slammed his foot against the shutter again. Vaguely he could hear orders barked over the comm unit.

The shocks eased again. Ashton reached for the light netting-like material that covered his SWAT garb. The sensors, like the ones that had shocked Roman when he’d been “shot,” were giving the shocks. Although obviously malfunctioning since Ashton didn’t think death by electrocution was supposed to be part of the training simulations.

“Sensors malfunctioning. Shocks.” Ashton barely managed to get the words out before the voltage cranked again.

Through the agony coursing through his body, Ashton could hear Derek demanding that the control room shut off all the suits since they seemed not to be able to isolate Ashton’s. Could hear Roman and Liam attempting to get under the metal shutters at his feet.

And a whole lot of cursing from just about everyone.

They weren’t going to make it to him in time.

Ashton tried to pull the netting holding the sensors off of himself, but they just snapped back into place like they were supposed to, designed to keep from hindering any movement.

Too bad they could work that detail out but not halt the overloading of electrical voltage that was going to kill him right here on the floor. Ashton reached for the knife in his boot—almost from a distance, he could hear everyone screaming in his ears, the team, the control room, telling him to hold on—but he knew he was going to lose consciousness before he could cut the netting off himself. Not to mention sticking a metal object into live voltage probably would compound the about-to-die problem.

Damn it, he did not want to die in this simulator. The voltage amped up again and Ashton didn’t even try to stop the deep grunt of pain that fell from his lips.

Then everything fell into complete blackness. Every light blacked out, every sound stopped.

The voltage stopped, too. Had he passed out? No, he could still think. Could still feel the pain echoing through his body even though the sensors had stopped their attack. He rolled over onto his back, too exhausted to even remove them in case they switched back on.

Lillian’s voice came over the comm unit. “Main power outside completely cut.”

Now that an electronic lock wasn’t keeping the shutters closed, Roman and Liam were able to use their strength to open the one over the door. Liam held it open and Roman rolled under, shining his flashlight onto Ashton. He nodded his head toward the other man.

Roman knelt down next to Ashton, knife in hand and began cutting the netting material that held the sensors against their clothing. “Ashton is down, but alive. I’m getting these damned sensors off of him. I suggest everyone else do the same.”

“Roger that,” Derek said. “Steve has a medical team on the way.”

“I’m okay,” Ashton finally managed to get out. “I can move everything, at least, and don’t seem any more brain-damaged than normal.”

“Just sit tight,” Derek continued. “It’s going to take a minute to get to you since we’re in complete blackness out here.”

“Hey,” Lillian huffed. “I didn’t have time to finesse it. I just shot the hell out of the whole power box. I’m probably going to get fired for this.”

“Thanks, Lil,” Ashton said. Her quick thinking—shutting down all the power rather than trying to isolate the problem—had probably saved his life.

“No problem, Fitzy. How else am I going to get homemade muffins if you’re not around?”

It wasn’t long before people swarmed the training warehouse. Temporary lights were set up and a medical team got Ashton onto a gurney and out of the building. They took him back to the main Omega building where he could be thoroughly examined.

He had two noticeable burns—one on the back of his shoulder and one on his waist—and generally felt like he’d been hit by a truck, but he would live.

The entire SWAT team, plus Steve Drackett and the lab coat guy from the control room, was now crowded into the medical holding room with him.

“We’re glad you’re okay, Ashton,” Steve said, leaning back against the wall.

“What the hell happened in there, Steve?” Derek asked. “That was well beyond not having the kinks worked out.”

Steve gestured to the glasses lab coat guy. “This is Dr. Castillo, one of the main contracted developers of the training facility.”

Dr. Castillo cleared his throat. “We’re not exactly sure what happened. And it will be a little difficult to find out since Agent Muir basically decimated the power box.”

Ashton just lay back in his bed as the entire team started defending Lillian’s actions all at once. Loudly.

Steve finally shut them down. “Nobody is blaming Lillian. That was smart thinking and probably saved Ashton’s life.”

Lillian just shrugged from where she leaned against the bed. Ashton held out a fist toward her, which she immediately tapped with her knuckles.

“The truth is,” Dr. Castillo continued. “I don’t know what happened. All I know right now is that it wasn’t just one problem. Yes, the sensors malfunctioned on Agent Fitzgerald’s suit, but multiple other problems occurred. Problems that didn’t happen when we tested the facility before you went in there.”

“We’re going to need answers, Dr. Castillo,” Steve said. “As to whether this turned ugly due to human and/or mechanical error or if there’s something bigger at play.”

Dr. Castillo scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yes. Absolutely. Finding out what transpired here is my team’s number one priority. And not that it’s worth much, but we’re all terribly sorry and completely flabbergasted at the situation, Agent Fitzgerald. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Ashton nodded. “Just figure out what happened so it doesn’t happen again.”

Dr. Castillo agreed, said a few more things to Steve, then left.

Grace Parker, Omega psychiatrist and in this case Ashton’s physician, entered the room. “Okay, this place is not intended for the entire SWAT team. Steve, Derek, are you guys done debriefing?”

Steve straightened from where he leaned against the wall. “For the moment. Until we get a better sense of what the hell occurred in there today.”

“I’ll tell you this much, you’re lucky it was Ashton in that suit that malfunctioned,” Grace said as she lifted the edge of Ashton’s shirt so she could see one of the worst electric burns on his waist.

“Lucky me,” Ashton muttered.

Grace chuckled. “No, what I mean is that you have a lot of body mass, so those defective sensors were spread out further. For someone smaller—” she turned “—for instance, you, Lillian, the sensors would’ve been closer together and would’ve resulted in far greater damage. Maybe even death.”

The team glanced at each other, saying nothing. They’d all just chosen random sensors as they’d entered the facility. It could’ve easily been someone with less body mass than Ashton.

“Well then, we’re glad Ashton took one for the team.” Derek slapped him lightly on his unwounded shoulder. “Does he need to stay overnight, Grace?”

The older woman checked out the other burn on Ashton’s shoulder, then returned his shirt to its place. “No. No damage here that won’t heal on its own. Even your burns don’t look like they’ll blister too badly.” She smiled at Ashton. “You’ll just be sore for a couple of days, so take it easy.”

After showering gingerly, with cooler water than he would’ve liked because of his burns, he met the team at the Omega canteen to get their first meal since Summer’s muffins.

Nobody knew exactly what mood to be in. Everyone was glad Ashton wasn’t hurt any worse, but also hadn’t expected anyone to be in any danger to begin with.

It wasn’t a loss. But it wasn’t a win.

“Hey, who wants to go get a drink?” It was late, already after 9:00 p.m. Their day had been long, but no one wanted to go home.

Everyone nodded and looked at Ashton.

He smiled. “Sure. I’m buying.”

That certainly cheered everyone up. Derek begged off since his wife, Molly, and baby son, Sebastian, were waiting for him at home.

Ashton was just walking into the bar the Omega team often frequented when his phone rang.

Summer.

Why would she be calling him at nearly ten o’clock? He stepped back outside so he could hear more clearly.

“Summer?” he said by way of greeting.

“Hi, Ashton. I’m so sorry to call so late. You weren’t asleep were you?”

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“No, I promise, it’s fine. What’s going on?”

“The power in my condo went out. I checked the breaker like you showed me, but couldn’t find anything wrong. I called the power company—they said they would eventually get here but had other priorities.”

“Do you want me to come check it out? See if there’s anything I can do?”

There was silence on the other end for so long Ashton worried they’d been disconnected.

“Summer?”

“No. No, that’s not necessary. I’ll just wait for the power company. One night won’t kill me.”

She laughed but it sounded brittle.

“It’s not just the power, is it?”

“I thought I saw someone looking in the window. Which is ridiculous, I know. I’m being ridiculous,” she repeated.

“No. It’s easy to get frightened when you’re alone. Everybody deals with that.”

“It’s just...something bad happened the last time my power went out. Somebody...” She faded out again. “Something bad happened.”

She’d been kidnapped by a crazy woman. He knew. But Summer didn’t know he knew. He didn’t blame her for being a little spooked.

“Look, I’ll be there in just a few minutes okay?”

“No. It’s silly. You were already over here once this morning. My condo is not your only job.”

Her condo wasn’t his job at all. Ashton scrubbed his hand across his face, wincing as it pulled on the burn on his shoulder. Like Derek had told him, he needed to tell her who he was before it bit him in the ass.

“It’s no problem. Just for both of our peace of minds. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? Please, Ashton, you can tell me if this is inconveniencing you. Augh, who am I kidding, of course this is inconveniencing you. Just don’t worry about it.”

“Summer.” He waited until he had her attention to continue. “I promise I don’t mind. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” He disconnected the call before she could begin to berate herself again.

“Looks like I’ll be buying the rounds.” Roman walked up to the entrance behind Ashton.

Ashton lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “I’ve got to go. Summer needs—”

“Summer needs to know what you do for a living. Who you are.”

“I’ll get to it.”

“Get to it soon, brother. It’s going to be hard enough now. If she finds out on her own...” Roman shook his head.

“You’re right. I’ll tell her.”

Because ultimately telling her he worked for Omega was going to be much easier than telling her he could’ve saved her husband’s life two years ago.

How exactly did one phrase that?

He wouldn’t worry about it tonight. Summer was upset, needed help. Honestly, Ashton didn’t mind being the person she called. He just wished it was because she wanted to see him, not because she thought he was under contract with the building.

Because he sure as hell wanted to see her. Maintenance problem, boogie man or for whatever reason she called.

He liked hanging here with the team, drinking a couple of beers. But he’d rather be with Summer and Chloe any day of the week.

Roman was right. He had to tell her. There were too many other things he was keeping from her—planned to continue keeping from her—to let his occupation be a secret.

He’d almost died today. In his line of work, he could honestly die at any time—it was a risk they all accepted as part of the job.

He hadn’t had any grand moments of his life passing before his eyes earlier when he’d been electrocuted. But he did know one thing for sure: he needed to come up with a plan when it came to Summer. Figure out what truth he could give her and what he couldn’t and see where that left him.

It was time. Past time.

Chapter Five

Summer felt like she had set women’s lib back a hundred years. What sort of grown female called a man over to her house just because the electricity went out?

She walked into Chloe’s room to check on her again. Found her daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib just like she had been the last two dozen times Summer had checked.

And that face at the window had just been a figment of her imagination. Nobody was standing outside her condo.

Right?

Summer was willing to cut herself a little slack. The last time the power had gone out, a psychopath had drugged and kidnapped her and Chloe and trapped them in a burning building.

So she had reason to be wary of her power being out. Of course, Ashton didn’t know any of this. He was just going to think she was a coward.

Or maybe he was going to think she wanted to see him. Seduce him or something.

She wasn’t sure which was worse. At least if he showed up here and she was waiting in some kind of negligee, he wouldn’t think she was terrified of being alone in the dark.

But would he be interested?

She pushed the thought away. That was not why Ashton was on his way over.

But she promised herself this was the last time she would allow herself to call. She was taking advantage of him. Of his politeness.

The knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

“Summer? It’s Ashton.”

She opened the door. “Thank you again for coming over. I’m sorry. It was totally unfair for me to ask you to come back again today. Especially so late at night.”

He completely surprised her by putting a finger up to her lips. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

He dropped his hand back to his side almost immediately, but Summer still felt shocked. She didn’t think Ashton had ever touched her except to shake her hand or in passing Chloe between them.

And more than that. He looked different.

She opened the door farther to allow him entrance, shaking her head. How could he possibly look different when she’d seen him just over twelve hours ago?

But he did. Just in how he carried himself. How he was looking her in the eyes without looking away.

How he’d just touched her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know you must think I’m a hot mess, but the last time the power went out something...” She swallowed. She really didn’t want to get into the details. “Something bad happened.”

Ashton cocked his head sideways, studying her for a long minute, but he didn’t ask her what she meant. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry. Let me double-check the fuse box, then I’ll go to the main breaker near the street.”

She stood at the top of the stairs as he made his way down into the basement/laundry room of her condo. He was back up in just a few minutes.

“You were right. There weren’t any fuses tripped in the box,” he said softly, making her appreciate his awareness of Chloe’s sleeping state.

She smiled at him. “I’m glad. If you had been able to come over here and fix the power in under ten seconds, I would’ve never been able to show my face in this town again.”

He smiled. “It looks like you’re free to show that beautiful face whenever you want to because there’s nothing you could’ve done about the power.”

Summer just stood staring at him. Not only did he just speak an entire sentence to her without stuttering, but did he just flirt with her?

“Oh. Oh, okay. Good.” Now who was stuttering?

“Let me go check the larger fuse box out by the street.”

Summer watched him walk back outside, trying to get herself under control. Maybe Ashton was just more confident and talkative at night.

If she thought she was attracted to him before, now she felt like she was smoldering inside.

Maybe she should’ve met him at the door in a negligee.

She needed some water to cool herself down. She turned away from the window—because staring at him probably looked a little desperate—and walked into the kitchen.

And found the same hooded face pressed up against her kitchen window.

This time she knew it wasn’t any figment of her imagination.

She ran to the front door, then stopped. She couldn’t leave Chloe alone in the house.

“Ashton!” she yelled.

He looked up from where he crouched at the fuse box by the street. He got one look at her face and began immediately running toward her.

He grabbed her arms. “What? What happened?”

“The face in the ski mask. It was back. At my kitchen window.” She could hardly get the words out around her own breaths.

“Go inside and lock the door, okay? Don’t open it for anyone but me. Call the police and tell them what happened.”

“But—”

“Summer, just do it, okay? I’ll be alright. I promise.”

She nodded and did what he said, locking and dead-bolting the door. She grabbed her phone and called 911.

* * *

ASHTON PUSHED AWAY all physical discomfort from his injuries as he bolted around the building and into the woods behind Summer’s unit, Glock in hand. He knew how much she loved the privacy these trees provided. He hoped this incident wouldn’t change her opinion.

The electrical box near the street had definitely been tampered with. The lock on the outside was broken, wires inside had been hacked. Someone wanted the power out in Summer’s home, maybe the entire condo unit.

Ashton didn’t know if it was some punk kid playing pranks or someone with much more sinister intent. If he was still around here, Ashton would catch him.

He wished he had his sniper rifle with him. Not because he planned to shoot the guy outright, but because looking through the scope for an enemy target was Ashton’s forte. Hiding from Ashton when he was in a secure location with his riflescope to his eye was damn near impossible.

But instead, Ashton got to the cover of the trees and stopped. He held himself still, looking for any sign of movement in the darkness. One thing Ashton had learned as a sniper was patience.

But nothing moved. After long minutes of holding himself completely still, he felt sure he was alone in the trees. Whoever had peeked through Summer’s window evidently had taken off as soon as he’d realized Summer had seen him. Which was good. That probably meant it was some sort of sick Peeping Tom or burglar, not someone who meant true harm.

Although who would mean true harm to Summer? Bailey Heath, the woman who had kidnapped Summer and Chloe, had died that day on scene.

Stupid punk teenagers out to cause trouble and damage buildings was a much more likely scenario than someone intending to hurt Summer or her daughter.

Ashton made it back to Summer’s door and knocked, letting her know it was him.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright? I was worried about you.” She threw open the door, grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside. “Did you see anything? Are you okay? The police should be here in a minute.”

She ran her hand from his shirt to his arm, but didn’t let him go. He didn’t wince even as her fingers hit some of his sore spots.

“I’m fine. I searched the woods but didn’t see anyone.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt!” Now she had both of her hands on his arms.

This was the perfect time to tell her, he realized. It would only take ten seconds and he could get it out, at least letting her know that he was law enforcement. He didn’t have to provide details.

“Summer, there’s something I should tell you.”

Her big gray eyes looked up at him expectantly. “What? Do you think it was someone with a gun? Someone trying to break in to the house?”

“No. I mean about—”

A knock on the door stopped him. It was too loud and it woke up Chloe. She started crying as the police identified themselves outside the door.

The moment was lost.

“You answer the door,” he told her. “I’ll get Chloe.”

Ashton made his way into little Chloe’s room. He didn’t turn on the light, hoping he’d be able to soothe her into going back to sleep. But as soon as she saw it was him and not Summer in the dim glow from the night light, she scooted herself around onto her little bottom and pulled herself into a standing position on her crib.

“Ah-ta! Ah-ta. Ah-ta.” Glee tainted her tone. She held her arms out to him.

He couldn’t resist her, didn’t even try. “Hey there, sweetheart.” He swung her up in his arms. “I’m sorry all the racket woke you up.”

“Ah-ta. Mama.”

“Yes, your mama’s right out in the living room. Let’s go see her, since I’m sure you’ll scream bloody murder if I put you back in that crib right now.”

Summer was telling the two police officers what she saw at the window. A man in a ski mask.

“As soon as I looked over there, he disappeared. I called for Ashton who was out at the power box at the street and he went to look out back.”

Ashton nodded at the two men. “Here, you take this wiggle worm,” he said, handing Chloe to Summer, “and I’ll take the officers outside and show them what I saw.”

He didn’t want to talk shop in front of Summer. It wouldn’t take much of a slip before she realized he knew way more about crime scenes and pursuit tactics than a condo handyman should.

When the door closed behind him, he immediately identified himself, pulling his credentials from his pocket. “I’m Ashton Fitzgerald, with Omega Sector.” The two officers introduced themselves as Jackson and McMeen.

He showed the men where the wires had been cut in the main fuse box and they went around to where the perp had been looking through Summer’s window. Sure enough, a footprint was clearly evident in the soil beneath Summer’s window.

The two men looked at each other. “This matches a couple other calls we’ve gotten the last few days. Mostly apartments and condos, but a couple of houses,” McMeen said.

“Dangerous?”

Jackson shook his head. “No. Power cut, some graffiti. General building damage. Nobody has actually seen them before Ms. Worrall.”

“Whoever it was took off immediately as soon I headed their way.”

McMeen wrote something down in his notebook. “That would be consistent with our theory that it’s some teenagers just looking for a little trouble.”

That made Ashton feel better. He knew it would Summer, too.

The officers left and Ashton made a call to the power company. They assured him they’d have someone out there first thing in the morning to look at it. By the time he made it back inside Summer’s house, she was laying Chloe back in her crib.

“Did they find anything?” she whispered as she came back out, closing Chloe’s door behind her.

“There was definitely a footprint under your kitchen window and some of the wiring to all the units had been tampered with down at the box by the street.”

“Why? Do the police have any idea who it is?”

“It looks like it’s probably some high-school kids trying to make trouble. They’ve had other similar calls around town this week.”

Some of the tension eased from Summer’s shoulders. Stupid kids were just stupid kids.

Now that the immediate danger was past, Ashton could feel every bruise and burn on his body from the electrical shocks earlier today. God, he was tired.

Evidently it showed.

She touched him gently on his arm. “Thank you for coming over here tonight. I was a mess.”

“No, you were fine. Anyone would be a little frightened in these circumstances. Kids didn’t mean any harm, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.” He remembered carrying Summer and Chloe out of that burning warehouse a few months ago. If anyone had logical reason to worry about a masked face in a window, it was her.

She turned away. “I guess so.”

“The power company said they’ll be out here first thing in the morning, so that’s good.”

“Yeah. I’m glad it’s not too cold out yet. We should be able to sleep comfortably.” But her eyes darting around the room said otherwise.

“Summer, are you going to be okay? Do you want me to stay? Camp out here on the couch?”

Or so much more. He wanted to do so much more.

She studied him for a minute but then swallowed whatever it was she’d considered saying. She wrapped her arms around herself. “No. You’re tired, I can tell. We’ll be fine. Like you said, just kids, no danger.”

Disappointment hit Ashton in the gut. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted her to ask him to stay. Even if it had just been on the couch.

In any other situation, he’d just tell her that was what he was doing regardless. He’d wink at her and offer to be her own personal SWAT security.

And tell her she was welcome to join him on the couch if she got scared at any time. Or he’d be happy to bring the security detail into her bedroom.

But he couldn’t laugh and wink and make jokes and charm his way into staying.

There were too many secrets between them. Too many lies.

He walked over to the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure the power got turned back on. If not, I can call the power company again.”

“I’m sure it will be.” She opened the door and looked at him again like she wanted to say something, but then her gaze slid to the ground. “Thanks again, Ashton.”

He touched her arm, wanting to do so much more than that.

“Good night.”

He heard the door shut and lock behind him and he walked down to his truck. He eased his sore body into it then, staring back at her condo, started the ignition.

Then promptly turned it back off.

He wasn’t leaving her.

Yeah, it was probably just kids trying to scare people, but Ashton didn’t care. On the off chance it was someone with a more sinister intent directed at Summer, he wasn’t leaving her alone.

He slid his seat back in an effort to get more comfortable inside his truck.

It was going to be a long night.

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