Page 18 of Marked

“Leland, this is Special Agent Noah Anderson. My?—”

“Her man,” Noah cut in, curling an arm around my waist in the world’s oldest possessive move.

Lord, save me from drowning in the overflowing testosterone river.

Lee smirked. “Then why did she have to come here to feel safe?”

“She”––I pointed to myself––“can answer for herself.”

“Enough bickering,” Dad interjected. “I think it’s high time you told us what’s going on.”

So we did. By the time we finished explaining my undercover operation into Brandon Little’s drug running and his connection with the Russian Bratva, Mom appeared to be three seconds away from crying, whereas Dad and Leland were fuming.

“Brandon Little? You mean the dumbass kid who used to follow you and Beth around like a lost puppy?”

“Yeah, Lee. That’s him.”

“What do you need from us?” Dad asked.

Noah interlaced our fingers. “A place to stay while our team eliminates the threat to Lanie.”

“You’ve got it, for as long as you need it.”

A short time later, my dad and brother announced they were taking Noah on a “tour” of the grounds. He’d looked incredibly uncomfortable when they led him out the front door, like he was being taken to the gallows rather than being shown around a forty-acre property. I couldn’t blame him though. Knowing Dad and Lee, they were doing whatever they could to scare him off. In their minds, if Noah bolted, he wasn’t worth my time anyway,

“He’s not like the boys you dated in high school.”

“Not even close, Mom. He’s so much more.”

Noah Anderson had more layers than tiramisu and was just as complex. At work, he portrayed the unflappable agent who—until recently—didn’t allow emotions to cloud his judgment. He was shrewd, pragmatic, and wielded his big brain like a weapon. But it was the moments when it was just our team and his shields lowered ever-so-slightly, where I’d catch a glimpse of the man behind the facade.

A ferocious defender with a heart of solid gold. The kind of loyal friend who’d grab the shovel first then ask about the body in the trunk later, though I wasn’t keen on testing out that particular theory. He was the man you wanted in your corner when all the odds were stacked against you.

That was the Noah I fell ass over teakettle for.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Her question was one I’d asked myself thousands of times, and I kept coming up with the same answer.

“I don’t have the first damn clue.”

The two of us worked seamlessly together the rest of the afternoon preparing dinner. It was just like old times; chopping veggies, reminiscing and gossiping about all I’d missed. With every laugh and stray tear, the hole that pierced my heart the day I walked away from my family began to cinchclosed. It would be a while before the hurt completely disappeared, but now there was hope where before there had only been despair.

The biggest shock came from learning my brother was not only dating someone, he was engaged. Apparently, Lee left out the more intimate details of his life during our phone calls. Not that I could blame him since I’d pretty much done the same.

When four o’clock rolled around, I excused myself, stepped out on the porch, and powered up the burner phone.

“I was beginning to worry,” Waverly answered, her greeting terse.

“It’s four oh two, for Christ’s sake. No need to call out the National Guard just yet.”

“Two minutes can mean the difference between you breathing or not. Be more punctual.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, thoroughly chastised. “Have you had any luck with my intruder?”

Normally, a breaking and entering fell under the local police department’s jurisdiction, however, given the circumstances, Waverly not only requested, she insisted on the FBI’s involvement.

“He’s still claiming he was there to steal your valuables, not your life. Good news is we finally have a name and some background. Gregori Yerchenckoff, twenty-three years old. Born in San Diego to Russian immigrants. Moved to Vegas at eighteen, where he works security at several of the casinos.”

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