Hayden: Dragon Security Volume Two, #6

By Glenna Sinclair

Hayden is the sixth book of the Dragon Security Volume Two series, containing over 49,000 words of romantic suspense. For the best reading experience, it is highly recommended to start from the beginning with COLE, Dragon Security Volume One.

 

HAYDEN

Someone wants to torture me, to remind me of all the horror in my life and force me to relive it. Thirty years ago, I witnessed a murder and testified against the killers. Now, someone is reenacting these murders. And tonight, he came home, attacking one of my operatives at Dragon Security. I can't just sit back and let that go. But I also can't put the people I love in danger. Megan, my boss and my best friend. Waverly, my on-again, off-again lover. I can't control everything, but I can't experience loss again. Not after watching my parents murdered, not after watching my fiancée die in my arms. But losing control, going on the run while I wait for Megan to fix things … that's not me, either …

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenna Sinclair
• Release date: Jan 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9798224715992

Glenna Sinclair

Experience the heart-racing novels of Glenna Sinclair, the master of romantic suspense. Sinclair's books feature strong male protagonists, many with a military background, who face real-world challenges that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Books2read.com/GlennaSinclair Facebook.com/AuthorGlennaSinclair GlennaSinclairAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Prologue

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Thirty Years Ago...

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He was watching from behind the couch. His father whispered something in his mother’s ear as he held her close to him and ran his hand slowly down the length of her bare back. He couldn’t hear what his father said, but it must have been funny because his mother threw her head back, her long, blonde hair flowing down her back, covering his hand, laughter flowing from her lips like music. They were beautiful, his parents. He found himself wishing he was older so that he could go to the play with them, so that he could dance with his mother like that.

The boy didn’t even realize what was happening at first. The beep of the door should have alerted him. It alerted his father. He had already pulled Mother behind him by the time the two men came around the corner.

What are you doing in here? his father asked.

The man paused, clearly surprised to find them there. The boy recognized him. He was the creepy man who’d brought their bags to their room the day before.

We came to check out what you left in the safe. It’s a pity you didn’t leave when you said you would.

Get out!

The man just laughed. We were hoping to find the nanny up here. Maybe the boy. He gestured to his companion. Willard here likes little boys. But I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see your missus still here. And all dressed up for me, too.

The boy saw the panic on his parents’ faces. He saw his father turn and whisper something to his mother that didn’t make her laugh. That made her whisper no in a voice that frightened the boy. Then he saw his father spin on his heel, but he hadn’t seen the man come up behind him. The bad man. And he had a gun.

The bad man hit the boy’s father over the head with the butt of the gun. The father fell hard to the floor, his eyes closed and blood seeping from his hair onto his forehead. His mother screamed as the bad man grabbed her arms and slammed her down onto the couch right in front of the boy. She saw him, her eyes widening in fear.

She nodded subtly, gesturing with her head toward the cupboard behind him that he’d hidden inside of during a riotous game of hide and seek the day before. His father had taken a long time to find him there. The boy thought it was hilarious that he’d fooled his father so easily.

He slipped in there then while the bad man ripped at his mother’s clothes, ruining her pretty new dress. The boy didn’t understand what was happening or the noises he was hearing, but he hid, his head buried against his knees.

He heard the bad man asking about him, about the boy. And he heard the lie leave his mother’s lips. She’d told him it was important to always tell the truth, so he didn’t understand. But he was afraid to call her out on it or to come out of the cupboard and prove her a liar.

There were lots of noises that night. He sat there for a long time, just listening. He didn’t know what to do. He knew this was bad, but his mother had told him to hide. So he hid until it was quiet for a very long time.

When he finally came out of the cupboard and crawled around the couch to where his mother lay, he pulled her dress up over her bare breasts, aware that it wasn’t proper for her to be like that. Then he lay his head against her chest, waiting for the sound of her heartbeat to soothe his fear. But it didn’t.

It wasn’t there.

Chapter 1

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Hayden

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My life had taken a few interesting turns these last few months. I had thought I knew what I was doing and where my life was headed. I had my great love and my chance at happiness. That happiness died the day my love died five years ago. So I decided to devote myself to my work and live life alone for the next thirty, forty years. And it wasn’t a sad thought. I had good friends. I had people in my life whom I loved and who loved me. I’d be okay.

And then Waverly Cooper walked into my life a little more than four years ago. She was everything Sam could never believe she was: strong, confident, beautiful. Sam was conservative; Waverly was adventurous. Sam was quiet, almost timid. Waverly was assertive. Sam was brilliant and Waverly...well, she was pretty brilliant, too. They were both whizzes with any electronic device you set in front of them, able to extract any information you could possibly need. Dragon Security couldn’t have functioned properly without either of them.

Waverly awoke in me everything I thought had gone dormant when Sam died. I tried to ignore my needs and pretend she didn’t satisfy something inside of me. But it was hard to ignore once we became lovers.

Not that I treated her like a lover. I treated her like an object, something I used to satisfy a need. And then I ended it, dropping her as spontaneously as I’d taken her the first time. But that didn’t last long. I couldn’t stay away from her.

Not even after I got her fired.

I didn’t want to care about her. Especially in light of the murders that had been taking place around me. Four sets of murders. Two in the towns I lived in as a child in Louisiana. One in Coronado where I’d done my training for the Navy SEALs.

And one that made no sense in combination with the others, a woman from here in Houston who had a depressive disorder, who was killed in a different manner than the other murders.  Her body was covered in fresh tattoos that the cops still hadn’t identified. But I did, the moment I saw them.

It was a message to me.

Someone knew about my past. Someone was killing innocent people to make a statement to me. And the cops had no clue.

I didn’t want to care about anyone because I didn’t want to put another person in danger, nor sit back and watch a second time as a woman I cared deeply for was murdered. But I couldn’t seem to stay away from Waverly, either.

We’d finished a complicated case today. My good friend, Peter Bradford, had celebrated the birth of his first child tonight. It was a good night. But my heart was heavy with the mystery of these murders.

The killer was following my movements, moving from one place where I had lived to another. The next logical location for the killer to hit was right here in Houston. I suspected he would go after someone close to me and that scared the shit out of me.

I lay in bed beside Waverly now, trying not to dwell too much on the darkness before going to sleep. Her body was warm and soft beside mine, her breath dancing against my bare skin. I hadn’t realized how much I missed these small moments in a relationship. I still thought about Sam often and the short time we had together. And I desperately missed the big moments we’d shared. But Waverly reminded me of the small moments that I didn’t know I’d missed until her touch.

Would I ever stop missing things about Sam?

I was doing more research on your murders, Waverly suddenly said, her voice low and soft. She’d been helping me gather information on the murders—though whoever was behind it was smart enough to make it hard for even her, with her amazing skills, to find anything. I came across a reference to a woman named Claire Dubois. Does that name sound familiar to you?

Where did you see that?

She kissed the center of my chest lightly. There was a series of articles done in the local paper where the first murder took place. In one of them, the writer mentioned a murder that took place thirty years ago that changed the life of a woman name Claire Dubois. But she didn’t go into detail. I guess she thought the readers who cared already knew what she was talking about.

Was there anything else?

Not really. It mentioned that this Claire Dubois had moved her family out of that town and ended up in the same town the second murder took place in.

Did the writer make that connection?

No. The article was printed before the second murder took place. And I guess, the writer had lost interest by the time it did.

She pulled back slightly, her warm hazel eyes moving over my face. When she looked at me like that, I imagined that she could see all the way to my soul. I touched her face, moving it so that the intensity of her gaze fell more to my chest.

Do you know the name? she asked. I mean, how many people with that last name could live in the same town where you lived?

I chuckled softly. You forget, it’s Louisiana. Dubois is a fairly common name there. But then I sighed, realizing it was time to level with her, to finally tell her the truth she’d been asking for ever since I pulled her in on this investigation. There’s no such thing as coincidences, Waverly.

Is she your mother?

I shook my head. My mother died. She’s my grandmother.

She sat up, something like pity filling her eyes.

Hayden, she said slowly, what happened to your mom?

I threw myself back against the pillows, resting my arms behind my head. I stared up at the ceiling, aware of Waverly watching me closely. She was waiting, but she wasn’t patient. I knew she wouldn’t wait long before the questions began to bubble over like a pot left to boil too long.

I closed my eyes, recent nightmares that had been filling my sleeping hours coming back to me. They weren’t just nightmares, really. They were memories.

We were in New York City, my parents and me. We were in a big, fancy hotel in the middle of Manhattan and we’d spent the day doing what a family on vacation does: going to museums and Central Park and shopping. That night, my parents were on their way to a Broadway play, but they had to wait for the hotel to send up a sitter because it was the nanny’s night off. They were all dressed up, flirting with each other in the sitting room. I was supposed to be in bed, but I was standing behind the couch, watching. I wanted to go with them, but I knew they wouldn’t allow it.

How old were you?

Six.

She made a sound, kind of like the sound Sam had made when I told her about that night. I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know that she pitied me.

There was a knock on the door. Two men came into the room. Long story short, I hid and they tortured and murdered my parents for just a couple of pieces of jewelry and some cash. It really didn’t amount to much. When they left and the nanny came back and found me, I told the cops what I’d seen. They made me testify at the trial.

That’s...I’ve never heard of such a thing! You were only six!

Eight when the trial came along.

Hayden...

The guys who did it went to prison. One, Willard Todd, is still in prison. The other man...

I glanced at Waverly, pain rushing through my body as I recalled the last moments of Sam’s life. That man had taken my parents from me, had made threats against me, and then he took Sam as she stepped in front of the bullet that was meant for me.

That’s horrible, Waverly said softly.

The murders in Louisiana and the one in Coronado? They were exact copies of what happened in New York to my parents.

Why?

I snorted. If I knew that...

I climbed off the bed and snatched up my pants, pulling them on with thoughts of going home. The idea of returning to the condo that once belonged to Sam and sleeping in the bed that we’d shared bothered me more than it ever had before. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay here, either.

Did I ever tell you that my father was in prison?

I glanced at her. No, you never mentioned it.

Because we don’t talk about it in my family. And I was only six months old when it all went down, so I’m not even clear what his crime was. I’ve never met him. The few times I’ve asked my mom about him, she’s brushed me off and told me it wasn’t important.

She stretched on the bed, her naked body on display in all its lithe beauty. And she was beautiful. Her hair was dark, her eyes a golden, green sort of hazel. Her skin was tan, the sort of tan that came with the touch of Asian heritage I could see in the slight almond shape of her eyes and the delicacy of her bone structure. Her breasts were small, a lovely handful, and her hips were narrow, just barely wide enough to hold onto.

My mother told me she packed me and my sister up the moment he was arrested and took us away. She said we tried to make a go of it in several places, but she couldn’t find work once people realized who she was married to. So she changed our names. All of us. Then she started over here in Houston and married my stepdad.

It took me a second to remember what we’d been talking about. I had to turn away, beginning a search for my shirt before I remembered.

Good for her, I muttered, remembering the day my grandparents had come to a similar decision.

We all have secrets, Hayden.

You’re lucky you don’t remember. You don’t have to live with the shadow of your father’s crime.

Maybe.

I was there. Reliving that night is all I did for years. And just when I found a place where I felt safe again, a place where I could let go of the guilt that had plagued me all those years, I witnessed a new murder and stood impotent as another person I loved died at the hands of one of those killers. I jerked my shirt over my head. So, you see, your secrets have nothing to do with mine.

"I know what you went through was