Phantom in the Night (B.A.D. Agency, #2)(2)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

He released his weapon to hang against his chest and used one hand to access the message while he scratched his head with the other. His gritty hair stuck out, longer than allowed in the military, but acceptable for those on the army’s clandestine intelligence teams, which answered solely to the CO of Special Forces. Not just trained teams, but the most highly trained in the army.

When the text message popped into view, his gut tightened as true, raw fear gripped him:

Nate_Mom starts chemo this week. She’s doing ok, so far. Take care. Laissez les bons temps rouler.

J.

Laissez les bons temps rouler. Let the good times roll.

Nathan’s face chilled as he read that line again, heart pumping at the true meaning behind his and Jamie’s code from childhood.

The day Nathan faced four boys in a gang bent on pulverizing his brother’s face, Jamie had started crying about how they wouldn’t survive the beating. Nathan had calmly told him to stay out of the way. As the four boys approached, Nathan smiled and said, "Laissez les bons temps rouler." He’d kicked their collective asses and sent them home to Mommy, crying like little girls with shattered teapots. After that, the phrase became a code between him and his brother for when Jamie was seriously in over his head.

Nathan dug out a bootlegged commo encryption unit he’d gotten from a company in Bahrain and plugged the unit into a port on the Satellite phone. The NSA could realistically hear his call, but the probability was remote since this equipment wasn’t made in the United States. Nathan dialed Jamie’s cell phone and got an answer on the second ring.

"Hello?" His brother’s whispered and frightened voice warned him this was going to be bad.

"It’s me."

"Nate, I’m in trouble. Bad trouble."

Nathan started to snap at him, but stopped before the rage spilled out. How much money was this going to take to fix? Didn’t Jamie realize they needed every penny he’d saved for their mother now?

"What did you do?" Nathan asked in a tight voice. A calm tone was expecting too much.

"Nothing, I swear. I got set up. The Marseaux bunch tied me in with a bust, but I wasn’t involved. I swear, I_"

"Jamie!" Not Marseaux, head of New Orleans premier crime family. Nathan leaned his head back against the tree, kept his free hand on his weapon, and allowed his eyes to close for the first time in two days. "What the hell were you_"

"I went to one of his loan sharks, but I didn’t know they were part of Marseaux’s network. We needed money. I saw an ad and thought I’d just get a loan until you and I had a chance to figure out something better. I’m sorry, Nate, but you were gone. I was trying to handle this. Wanted to make you and Mom proud."

"What happened?"

"I ended up in the middle of a bust. Marseaux’s people were cutting deals and fingering me before I even talked to an attorney."

This could not be happening. "Un-f**king-believable. How bad is this?"

"We’re in trial right now, because the son of a bitchin’ DA got this thing fast-tracked. I got a court-appointed attorney who’s about as much good as tits on a boar hog. He says I can’t beat this, that I’m going to be convicted no matter what." Jamie’s voice fell apart with the last words. "I only went to get money for Mom."

"Don’t blame Mom’s cancer. If you’d just use your head once in a while and not trust everyone who offers you quick money you wouldn’t get screwed over. I send plenty of money every month for both of you." Nathan jerked upright and pounded the ground next to his leg. "I could have sent more."

"You don’t understand, Nate," Jamie shouted. "You’re not here. The city condemned this area and we have to move. They’re going to bulldoze the houses here. Mom got a little money from the state, but not nearly enough for a decent place. I figured if I got some more cash we could get moved and settled somewhere before she got to feeling so bad. I never know when we’ll hear from you, dammit."

Nathan couldn’t believe this. He’d been building his savings in case of an emergency back home and would have sent money home before now if not for fear Jamie might squander the whole nest egg in some money scam.

This pretty much counted as an all-out emergency, but he doubted the little chunk of money he had would save Jamie from this legal jam. Each thump of his heart pounded loud as a death knell in his ears, warning of dire consequences ahead for his family. What the hell was he going to do to keep them safe now?

Who would be with his mother while she was going through hell?

"They’re gonna put me in prison, Nate. Might be two years," Jamie whispered. "What am I gonna do? What are we going to do about Mom?"

Nathan covered his eyes with his hand, but that wouldn’t block out all the bad scenes running through his mind. His brother would be comatose for the rest of his life if Jamie survived prison, which he wouldn’t. His mother couldn’t face chemo without help. Her family was worthless, had never lifted a finger for her or her kids. And no family on his dad’s side.

His pulse pumped furiously with each new worry. Nathan wished for a miracle, but realized he’d have to create one or his mother and Jamie would suffer. One from lack of care and the other from lack of sense.

He bounced his head against the tree, thinking, searching for a better idea than the one that came immediately to mind. But the sickening truth was he had no choice. He accepted what he had to do to protect his family.

It sucked, but then, so did life.

"Listen to me." Nathan took a breath before continuing. Decision made. "If I get you out of going to prison, you have to swear to stay away from anyone who even hints of being a shyster, criminal or otherwise."

"The attorney says I can’t beat it, he says_"

"I don’t care what he says. I’ll get you out of this, but you have to swear to use your head and get a real job, no more bullshit deals. Take care of Mom for me. Give me your word."

"I swear I will, you know that. I’d do anything for you and Mom. You really think you can fix this?" Jamie’s relief rushed through the lines. "I only have a week before the attorney says the trial will be over. I’ll do whatever you say, just tell me what to do, Nate."

Find a way to roll back time so I could have sent you the money before you went to Marseaux’s loan shark.

Going there was like losing his temper, neither would solve the mess Jamie was in. "Sit tight until I call you tomorrow. Don’t tell a soul_including Mom_you talked to me. Got it?"

"Yeah, but what are you going to do?"

"I’ll tell you tomorrow…" Nathan rubbed his eyes, sick over what he’d have to do. "I’ve got to go now, but I will keep you out of prison, so you better start holding up your end of the deal right now."

"I will." Jamie was silent a moment, sighed. "Thanks, Nate. Sorry about this. I was just trying to take care of Mom and you know I don’t do drugs."

Nathan sighed deeply. "I know, bud. We’ll get through this." His brother had never taken so much as an aspirin or a beer since the first time he’d drank and spent a whole day puking his guts out hungover. Nathan ended the call and stared into a star-riddled sky. His father’s words echoed in his mind from the day he showed the challenge coin to Nathan after Jamie had been beat up at school.

"I need you to make me a promise, son." His dad’s voice had been tight, as if he hated handing this burden to a child.

Nathan had nodded. His dad continued," A man’s word is worth more than all the money on earth. Don’t ever break yours."

When Nathan gave him another head nod, his dad held out the coin from his days as a Ranger in the army." I want you to have this, but with it comes responsibility. Your brother is never going to be as strong or street smart as you, so I need your promise that you’ll always watch out for him."

"I will, Dad, you know that. Me and Jamie forever." Nathan lifted his hand, palm up, to accept the coin he’d treasured more than anything. That had been a month before his father, an ARCA driver, was killed in a fiery crash. As an eight-year-old, Nathan had never imagined what he would now have to do as a man to keep his word to his father.

To keep his word to his brother.

He shoved up and away from the tree, unplugged the encryption unit and stowed it, then called for the predetermined Friday extraction point. When finished, he laid the phone alongside Stoner’s hammock on the ground, still folded. Once Nathan secured his backpack, he removed a green pouch the size of a deck of cards from his belt, which held an emergency locator strobe. He unlaced the back of the pouch and slit the threads on a hidden pocket, withdrawing the challenge coin he always carried.

The mission was over and his team would extract tomorrow.

Nathan stared at the coin once more, then placed it on top of the bedroll, just as he’d promised when he went to face the devil. Stoner would understand the simple message.

As far as anyone was concerned, Nathan was dead.

* * *

In two steps, he disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER ONE

New Orleans, Louisiana, two years later

Terri Mitchell studied the nak*d male lying before her once more. Straight black hair fell loosely around his baby-smooth face. He’d shaved recently. Those chiseled lips were too enticing and perfect, as if shaped by a master sculptor.

How many women had enjoyed this body and those lips? Been pleasured by that captivating mouth?

And why should she care? Terri tamped down on her female interest. She was a professional and shouldn’t consider things like this guys social life or his lean, muscular body, but men didn’t come much better packaged than this one. All she’d seen so far was his upper body since the cotton sheet covered his lower half.

Using her pen, she lifted the white cloth to see if there was anything else she could glean from this inspection beyond the bullet hole in his forehead.

Not really, unless she wanted to add "well endowed" to her notes. Such a waste of one fine-looking male.

Probably not the Fat Tuesday this guy had expected when he got up this morning.

"I like the highlights, the more blonde look. That new?" The radio-announcer-smooth baritone asking that question from behind her belonged to a man she hadn’t planned to see again. At least not yet.

Terri yanked her pen away. The sheet fell back into place over the corpses toned midsection. She swung around to face DEA Special Agent Robert Brady and cursed silently for almost getting caught ogling a body.

"Hello, Brady."

"Nice to see you, Terri. Look good. I like the extra meat on your bones."

"Is that a polite way of saying I’m overweight?" She used to worry about trying to reach a dress size in the single digits. Not anymore. Surviving a nearly fatal attack had put her priorities in order. Stressing over the scale was in her past. If she could just put other things behind her as easily.

Like Brady’s smug face.

"I said you looked good. Can’t you take a compliment?"

Maybe, if it had come from someone else, but Brady liked his women thin, long-legged, and busty. At five-six she’d never met the long-legged qualification and nothing in her wardrobe had been designed for a slim body. She’d assumed. Brady made an allowance when they’d dated because of her chest. Most of the men in her life jumped to the ridiculous assumption large br**sts equaled an easy lay. Men had such simple guidelines, she envied them at times… almost.

They’d had a few dates, but she’d enough sense not to sleep with Brady. Terri fixed a smile in place. "Thanks for the compliment."

"What were you doing?" He nodded toward the cold body.

"I’d think it would be obvious_even to you." She winked to soften the dig. "I’m examining a male corpse." Maybe they could keep things pleasant if he didn’t bring up the past.

"The hole is in his head, not his dick."

She shoved a droll stare his way. "If I didn’t inspect the entire body, I might miss something significant." Especially since she hadn’t seen a nak*d male in so long.

Who knows? Something might have changed.

"You need to get laid." Brady’s wrinkled navy suit had lost its polish hours ago. The scruffy, plain-brown hair hadn’t changed, still looking both sexy and as if he’d just gotten out of bed and finger brushed the thick locks. How unfair. Men not only got away with bed head but turned it into a vogue style.

At a loss for a stinging comeback, she just arched an eyebrow.

"What?" he snapped.

She let out a tired breath and raked him with a peeved glare. "Why is getting laid a man’s answer to everything?"

Brady shrugged. "Maybe because once we get laid, most of our problems are solved." He broke out a megawatt smile intended to wear down her resistance.

Which should have been easy since she’d never been on the first page of anyone’s little black book.

Terri wasn’t in the market for marriage, but neither was she willing to climb into bed with a man she had no real feelings for, which meant his original primitive assessment of her mood was probably correct.

Change the subject now, before…

"Why didn’t you return my calls?" His face lost all joking appeal, ruining any chance of avoiding this conversation.

Might as well get this over with. "I did return your first call and left a voicemail I’d be out of pocket for a while."

"A while?" He stood away from the doorjamb, rising to his imposing stature. "Most people would take a while’ to mean a few weeks, not three months." A six-foot male leaning toward her in an intimidating posture would have rattled her right after the attack, but not now.

After leaving the hospital_and the DEA_she’d spent endless hours with a personal trainer to even the field with dangerous men. She didn’t want to ever feel weak or helpless again.

"I had to do a major rehab_"Terri started.

"I know that, but why did you hide from me?"

"Hide?" Was he insane, insensitive, or just plain unobservant? She growled under her breath and slapped her clipboard down on the body, then winced over her lack of respect for the dead.

What was it about sexy men that undermined, her confidence?

"There are very few rehab facilities in New Orleans since Katrina. Or haven’t you noticed?"