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Brothers in Arms
Brothers in Arms
Brothers in Arms
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Brothers in Arms

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Four years ago, Andrew Butcher dropped off the grid. Now he is back, and determined to reconnect with his family. But Andrew is playing a dangerous game. In accepting the position as head of security for a known criminal, he risks alienating those he respects and admires – starting with Ellen Parker.

Ellen is a former Troop Commander with the Royal Artillery. In her role at Morgan and Fairchild, she has a reputation for being tough, loyal, and someone who always gets the job done. Andrew and Ellen share a past, one she would sooner forget. But circumstances force her hand, and though Ellen tries to resist, every road leads back to Andrew and a case that will change everything.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 28, 2016
ISBN9781310716959
Brothers in Arms
Author

Melissa Barker-Simpson

I've been writing since, well...since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I often look back on those earlier stories, and apart from laughing at the heavy-handed drama, or cringing at my inexperience, I am reminded that I have always lived in other worlds. My first novel was published in 2008, and I love nothing more than working on a new project. The voices inside my head invariably pull me in different directions, so although I try to work on one thing at a time, those who know me would tell you it doesn't always work! I have a full-time job which, though does not involve writing per se, incorporates my love of language. As a British Sign Language Interpreter, I get to translate information between two languages which is (mostly) fun. I have two beautiful daughters who bring me great joy. They also keep me grounded, because otherwise I would have my head in the clouds permanently!

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    Brothers in Arms - Melissa Barker-Simpson

    First, I would like to thank all my readers, and fans of the series, for all your support. I love to spend time with the team at Morgan and Fairchild, but there is something extra special about sharing that with you.

    As I’ve said before, no book is written in isolation, so I would like to thank M.J. Moores, Stephanie Bigler, Joan Carney, and Tammy Lafleur for all your advice and encouragement. Lastly, a huge thank you to my editor, David Burton. As always, it was wonderful to work with you on the project.

    Preface

    Andrew

    Andrew slammed his fist into the wall beside the hotel mirror, and welcomed the burn. The plaster cracked, shattering in a fine web of lines, which radiated from the point of impact. It wasn’t the first time he had caused damage to the room. It was something else to add to the tab.

    This time it began with a dream. No, a nightmare. He hated them, hated what they did. It wasn’t the gunfire or the sounds of his wounded men. It was the helplessness; laying in his own blood, body paralysed, and unable to do a damn thing to save them.

    But the dreams were a part of his life now. They had been since he woke from his coma nine months earlier. He had tried to escape them, hoping his mind would heal along with his body. He failed, because he was broken.

    Most times, when he woke, heart racing and body covered in sweat, he managed to rein in the anger and let the memories go. Then there were the times he would think of her and all he had given up. Andrew wasn’t foolish enough to think he had a romantic heart, and yet the moment he met Ellen Parker he knew, in that instant, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She was tough, smart, and capable, and there was no doubt in Andrew’s mind she could handle his demons. Hell, she would have fought right beside him to banish the darkness in his soul, and she would have revelled in the fight. But the thought of diminishing her light in any way, it killed him. When he had woken from the coma, he was nothing but an empty shell. Andrew could not bear the thought of tainting what they had, of ruining something that beautiful. Walking away from her was the hardest decision of his life, even if he told himself he’d done it to protect her.

    It was hard to believe, given the man he was, but he needed Ellen. In the field, they called him the lone wolf and, in truth, Andrew allowed few people close. Aside from Kelvin, his cousin, and Jonathan Jukes, his best friend, he kept a part of himself isolated. Yet Ellen had seen him, and she had liked what she saw. He missed the way her presence soothed him, how she knew exactly what he needed and gave it without complaint. He could turn to Ellen for anything, and being without her, not being able to turn to her in the night to share his burdens, hurt more than any physical wound. So, yes, it was the hardest decision he had ever made. It was also the worst, and he should know, he’d made some doozies.

    So when he allowed himself to really feel the pain, if he was unable to lock it down, the beast broke free and his anger ruled for a time. He felt it still, clawing at his chest. The burn of it overshadowed the pain in his fist as it settled along his skin, and it was then Andrew knew he was in trouble.

    He pulled his arm back and looked at the graze along his knuckles, trying to choke down the desire to punch the wall again. And again. And again.

    It was touch and go, until he heard the mobile phone vibrate on the bedside table. He moved to glance at the display and saw it was his boss. Andrew knew he was ringing because shit was going down at the club, but he couldn’t do anything to help. Not tonight. His mood was dangerous, and he couldn’t afford to deal with assholes who had had too much to drink. Andrew could barely tolerate them on a good day.

    At first, he had tried construction. It was honest work, and he was good at it. But it wasn’t conducive to his sleeping habits, so he quit. He had been unable to sleep at night since waking from the coma. He was well aware he should push through it; get his shit together and re-establish a routine. He knew it, and yet, for the first few weeks, he had survived on little more than two hours rest a day. Usually at the end of a shift.

    When he began to hallucinate on the job, he figured it was time to move on, and found work at a nightclub. An ex-marine and former Special Forces operative working as a bouncer; how his buddies would have laughed at that. But they were gone, and he was left with their ghosts.

    The moment the phone fell silent, Andrew picked it up. He didn’t want to do it. It was a compulsion he had at least once a day and, as he hit the button to play the recording, he wondered why he put himself through it. Why he couldn’t let go, when it had been his choice to leave.

    ‘It’s me, just checking in," Ellen’s soft voice filled the room. ‘I can’t wait for your R&R because, honey, it has been way too long. Seriously. I’m going to book a hotel room, and then we’re going to hang a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door for at least twenty-four hours and, gorgeous, I’m going to be all over you like you’re the last drop of water in the desert. I kid you not.’

    Andrew paused the recording. She had left the original message on his phone and, when he ditched that model to live under the radar, he couldn’t bear to part with it. So, just to torture himself, he’d recorded it. It was now a sound file that had been re-recorded so many times the quality was sketchy at best. He didn’t care. It was his favourite message.

    He let her words sink in, allowed the memories to trickle through in an effort to calm himself, and then he hit play.

    ‘But don’t worry, I’m on it. When I can get rid of JJ – who, quite frankly, is a giant pain in my ass - I’ll book it in and that should tide me over until you get back. Call me when you can, okay? Ciao.’

    The line about JJ usually made Andrew smile. Jonathan Jukes was one of the best men he knew, and yet Andrew had severed their friendship the moment he walked away. It was like losing a limb; JJ had always been there for him, and the ache was constant. Now it only served to remind him what a fool he was, and Andrew felt his control slip again.

    He had to get out of the room. It was the only way he could avoid being swallowed whole by his demons, and he had to stay sane. He couldn’t throw his life away. It would dishonour the men and women he had fought beside.

    Before he could change his mind, he stalked out of his room, took the stairs two at a time and strode past reception without pausing to hand in his key.

    He bypassed the car park, in no mood to drive. What he needed was a drink, or more than one. But he didn’t get further than the road outside the Premier Inn. A sound to his right stopped him dead in his tracks and, despite the steady traffic, the cluster of pedestrians and environmental noise, what he heard was unmistakable. A soft whimper; a pained whine that shot straight down his spine.

    Andrew found the source of the sound in under a minute. He made a beeline for a patch of trees to his right and pushed aside the overgrown bushes. On the ground, covered in its own blood, was an animal, which looked like a wolf. At least at first glance. On closer inspection, Andrew realised it was a dog.

    He crouched low, meeting eyes so blue he found himself unable to pinpoint their exact colour. They were extraordinary.

    Hey there, Blue. You taking a break for a minute, buddy?

    The dog grumbled low in its throat as though trying to communicate the seriousness of the situation. Those eyes were pinning Andrew to the spot, with an intelligence he found almost human.

    Don’t worry. We’ll get you patched up in a jiffy, Andrew said, pulling the phone out of his pocket.

    He scrolled down his list of contacts, which didn’t take long, and hit on the number he wanted. It rang three times before Dominic Gordon picked up.

    Dom. I’ve got a situation. I have a wounded animal and I need you to get me a vet to the hotel on Broadway.

    On it.

    The line went dead a second later. Andrew smiled and turned back to the dog. I have to stay under the radar, buddy, which means no police. I’m guessing you’ve had a little trouble, so you’ll probably thank me for it.

    The dog blinked slowly, taking in his tone, if not his actual words. To keep the animal calm, Andrew continued talking, a strange compulsion he didn’t even question.

    I have a friend who owes me big. It’s the kind of favour that warrants a call like this one, no questions asked. So you stick with me and I’ll see you right.

    That earned him a grumble of response, before the blue eyes drifted shut. Andrew watched the gentle rise and fall of the dog’s chest to monitor his breathing. He knew the animal had to be in a fair amount of pain, which was why he hadn’t chanced lifting him. From the angle of his right hind leg, it was badly broken. The blood was coming from somewhere on his flank, so Andrew removed his jacket and rolled it into a ball. As he applied gentle pressure to the wound, he continued talking to his new friend, and after a few minutes he realised the dog’s presence had soothed his own beast.

    One

    Ellen

    Four years later…

    Ellen Parker slowed her Harley at the security gate, and with her visor pushed to the top of her helmet, she grinned at the guard on duty, flipping him the bird. This got her a matching grin, accompanied by a finger gesture a second before the barrier slid open. On a laugh, quickly swallowed by the wind, Ellen roared onto the backlot. She was familiar with the vast open space that formed Grey’s Lot at Lundwood Studios. But she still took the time to enjoy the view as she headed toward her destination.

    It was hard not to appreciate the serene beauty of the place, regardless of how often she visited. Ellen had provided onset protection more than once, and enjoyed the gig as much as the rest of her team. Morgan and Fairchild didn’t have the security contract for the studios, Abe Donovan did, but they worked closely with his organisation, AD Securities.

    Since marrying Alicia Gladstone, Brad Morgan made a habit of organising the after party in celebration of his wife’s success. As Alicia owned her own production company, and used the studios as often as possible, it was the perfect location.

    The purpose built bar for cast and crew shone like a beacon across the otherwise deserted lot. Ellen scanned the vehicles in front of the building and noted half her crew were already there. The rest would stop by when they could, and given how long these things usually ran, at some point the entire family would unite.

    The party was in full swing when she stepped inside the bar. Tonight it was invite only. Ellen spotted Abe immediately. He wasn’t on duty, which was a surprise. She knew this from the elegant cut of his dove grey suit, offset by a black, silk shirt. The effect was devastating against his dark skin. Abe knew how to rock his threads; he looked completely at ease among the celebrity guests Ellen had clocked when she walked in. His strong physicality was evident in every line of his body. Whether working or not, Ellen knew he was alert; his keen intelligence was one of the things she loved about him.

    Abe’s dark brown eyes met hers as she approached, his smile warming his expression. Tell me you’re wearing a little black dress under those leathers.

    She flashed him a grin, amused by the harmless flirtation. Ellen was rarely out of her leathers, unless she was in uniform. If I’d known you were wearing a get-up like that, I’d have shaken off the moth balls and donned my glad rags. You look good enough to eat.

    His laughter was as smooth as the rest of him. Touché, my friend.

    You can flatter her as much as you want, Brad said, settling to Abe’s right. You’ll never steal our girl away.

    Ellen rolled her eyes, mostly for affect. When her gaze settled again, she noticed Kelvin Fairchild had joined their group. It wasn’t a surprise. She often joked Brad and Kelvin came joined at the hip. In truth, they were brothers in arms. Their kinship made them just that - kin. It was clear the moment you laid eyes on them, even though they didn’t share blood. Nor did they look alike. Brad was dark haired, with striking grey eyes, whereas Kelvin had blonde hair and eyes the colour of honey. He had a great smile, too, a secret weapon.

    I’m not a fool, Bradley, Abe said, grinning when Brad’s face darkened at the name. But I am a man and, when you see a woman like Parker, you’ve got to get your flirt on. I’m married, not dead.

    Ellen threw back her head and laughed, undeterred when several pairs of eyes turned in their direction. I’m not even a little bit offended by that comment, she said, bumping shoulders with him. The fact was she liked the way Abe treated her with respect in the field, while appreciating her as woman. She might have some crazy mad skills, as her best friend liked to put it, but those skills did not define her.

    Christ, Donovan, that’s our sister you’re talking about, Kelvin muttered.

    This only made Ellen laugh harder. She glanced between Brad and Kelvin, enjoying the discomfort in both their expressions. She liked that even more, that she was one of them; she was family. Ellen felt the same fierce protection, but she didn’t find it any less amusing.

    Lighten up, Kel. Abe’s a compulsive flirt. It would be offensive if he didn’t notice my…attributes.

    Brad groaned, and his eyes darted to Kelvin. What do you say we go to the bar? I’m not drunk enough to deal with Ellen being cute.

    Ellen gasped in mock outrage, but they were already walking away. They looked good, she thought, following their progress across the room. Both were tall, though Brad had a couple of inches on Kelvin. He was broader too; a fact which was only noticeable when they were side by side, like now.

    You enjoy torturing them, don’t you? Abe murmured.

    She grinned at him. Only when they’re being boys!

    Abe shook his head. You don’t fool me, Ellen Parker. They get the real you, and sometimes, so do I.

    The serious tone surprised her, so much that she looked at him. Really looked at him. And she saw the fine lines of tension around his eyes. Something on your mind, honey? she asked, all humour gone.

    Nothing a stiff drink won’t fix. He touched her arm, a gesture that told her he appreciated the concern. I think I’ll go join the boys. Then he winked. I enjoy torturing them too.

    Ellen watched him go, wondering at the shadows she’d seen in his eyes before he shut the emotion down. Whatever it was he didn’t want to talk about it, if his hasty retreat was any indication.

    She watched him for a minute, deciding to let it go when his laughter travelled across the bar. He was relaxed again, back to the Abe she knew. So she glanced around the room, searching for her friends, and her eyes took in the group. They were laughing, clearly lost in discussion, and all had their focus on Sarah Munroe.

    Sarah was their newest recruit; an odd fit given her background in media and production, but it worked. Sarah was also Alicia’s best friend and former assistant, though assistant didn’t really cover it – more like entire entourage in one tidy package. She’d wanted a change and Brad gave that to her. Now Sarah was part of the team at Morgan and Fairchild. She took the job seriously, had endured the intense training, and now had her license.

    Sarah didn’t notice the attention, because another of their colleagues had her entire focus. As Ellen moved closer to the conversation, she understood why. Elizabeth Carr was ex-police and her undercover adventures were legendary. That was to say, she enjoyed talking about them and had an eager audience.

    So what happened then? Sarah asked, leaning closer. She still lived for drama, without a doubt.

    He tied me to the god-damn bed, Elizabeth said, giving Sarah exactly what she needed.

    Ellen had to swallow down a laugh. She’d heard the story many times. It involved another of her team, Thomas Sellors. In particular, an undercover assignment they had worked together. She decided to stay awhile. The story never got old.

    You’re kidding! This came from Sarah, whose eyes shot to Tommy.

    I wish. I was so pissed at him I couldn’t think straight. It took far longer than it should to work my way out.

    You were only pissed because I out-manoeuvred you, Tommy said, grinning.

    Sarah turned her gaze in his direction. I don’t understand. If you were working together, why-

    It wasn’t as bad as she makes out, Charlie cut in, tipping his beer towards Elizabeth. By the time she’d calmed enough to ring me, she was already free.

    Charles Macavoy was a close friend, though not part of the team – at least not in a traditional sense. Charlie worked homicide for the Met. He was part of Morgan and Fairchild’s extended family. A fact which he cemented by dating the real genius behind the team, Susannah McElvogue.

    Elizabeth ignored him to continue the tale. We were working together, but it wasn’t by choice, and there was no trust between us. In fact, I didn’t like him very much. She smiled sweetly at Tommy.

    It didn’t stop you from trying to seduce me in your underwear, he shot back.

    Sarah almost choked on a mouthful of wine. You tied her up in her underwear? What kind of operation were you running?

    Ellen grinned, taking it all in. She loved her team, and they were going all out for their resident drama queen.

    If you’re picturing Lizzie lying helpless in her lingerie, you’ve missed the point, Tommy drawled.

    Oh, so there is a point, Sarah countered.

    Tommy shrugged and looked across at Elizabeth. He kept his face purposely neutral and Ellen knew he was distracted by the images in his head. His efforts to hide these thoughts proved futile.

    You can stop picturing me naked now, Elizabeth said, throwing him a look that was like water on a fire. She turned back to Sarah. It was my job to infiltrate a street gang, which wasn’t as hard as convincing my supervisor I could handle a little heat.

    So you were assigned a partner.

    He was a contact, certainly. He was already deep undercover, which is why his head wasn’t in it. Elizabeth ignored Tommy’s snort, instead emphasising her point. If I’d had his full attention, he would have understood how much I resented having a babysitter.

    Oh, I understood, Tommy said, before turning to Sarah. Her supervisor was concerned by what was going down. She organised a meet without his consent and I had to get creative because my orders were to keep her busy.

    Ellen turned when she caught movement beside her, smiling when JJ handed her a glass of wine.

    Have we got to the good part yet? he asked.

    She bumped shoulders with her best friend, a non-verbal command to move them along. Jonathan Jukes had recruited Ellen into the team. She would have followed him anywhere; he was her brother in all things.

    He took the cue and ploughed in. They were so busy trying to outdo one another, they didn’t realise that if they’d pooled their resources, they could have closed down the operation in a matter of weeks.

    I’m still struggling with the trust thing, Sarah admitted, her eyes moving around their circle. I mean. She pointed at Tommy. He’s the most trustworthy person I know.

    Elizabeth rolled her eyes, making Ellen laugh. Tommy was their resident peacemaker and he was extremely good at his job.

    That’s because you’ve never seen him undercover. You know he’s special forces, but what you don’t know is that he’s a chameleon. All I saw when we first met was trouble. He was dark and dangerous and, foolishly, that’s all I saw.

    Sarah squinted at Tommy, assessing him. Then she nodded, grinning. I can totally see him in that role.

    Yeah, he plays badass well. Elizabeth made a face. But my supervisor underestimated me. I knew exactly what kind of trouble I was facing, and I overheard a conversation that led me to believe Tommy’s cover had been blown.

    Basically, JJ cut in again, helping the story along. "She thought she could handle it alone and planned to keep Tommy out of it. Which is the funniest thing about that scene because they were both so hell bent on protecting each other, neither came out

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