Accidental Trifecta Read online

  Accidental Trifecta

  Masters of the Prairie Winds Club

  Book Six

  by Avery Gale

  © Copyright December 2014 JK Publishing, Inc.

  ISBN#

  All cover art and logo © Copyright December 2014 by JK Publishing, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Artwork by Jess Buffett

  Published by JK Publishing, Inc.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publishing company.

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  Dedication

  To my readers: You are the reason I enjoy writing so much. Thank you for the praise and support. I appreciate each and every one of you!!!

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Books by Avery Gale

  Excerpt from Jody’s Men

  Excerpt from Jaxson

  JK Publishing, Inc.

  Prologue

  Twenty-five years ago…

  Carl Phillips sat on the timeworn walnut bench outside the Headmaster’s Office wondering how he’d managed to fall so far in such a short amount of time. Unfortunately the answer was crystal clear, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. The narrow slats of the wooden floor were cool beneath his bare feet despite the fact it was late May. The well-worn boards were polished daily, reflecting the soft lighting from the wall sconces. St. Andrew’s School for Boys had a long tradition of setting the unruly teens of New England’s old money families on the straight and narrow path to “proper behavior”. The first time Carl saw The Stepford Wives, he’d been sure the writer must have been a St. Andrew’s graduate, even though there were obvious differences, it was also a frightening accurate portrayal of what Carl saw played out all around him each and every day.

  His biggest fear had always been conformity, but it had been laid out so prominently in his future, his view of everything else was overshadowed by those expectations. St. Andrew’s was the answer to the age-old dilemma faced by so many in his parents’ social circle that there was absolutely no way he was going to come out of this unscathed. Even if the “prick with the stick dick” as Mr. Richards was known, let him off with a warning—which was about as likely as Carl wearing a pink tutu into the dining hall, his parents would hear about tonight’s “incident” as it was being called. Incident. Yeah, right. In his view, incidents were isolated occurrences, and even though it hadn’t happened often, tonight wasn’t the first time either.

  Thinking back over the past two years, Carl felt his stomach clench as the erotic images flashed through his mind. Turbulence and confusion were the only words he could find that even came close to describing the feelings and it was unfamiliar territory for his normally well-ordered mind. He prided himself on his ability to solve problems, ordinarily he could solve any puzzle put in front of him, but his conflicting feelings about this topic were far beyond his grasp. It didn’t matter how many times he’s tried to make sense of the conflict that had clouded his mind for the past twenty-two months—it just didn’t make any sense. Nothing about it fits anything I’ve ever known. With the wooden bench beneath him, Carl shook his head sending his shaggy blond hair over his forehead to tease the tips of his sun-bleached eyelashes. He needed to stop trying to unravel the past and concentrate on how he was going to get through the next few weeks of school—unless they kicked him out, and that seemed more and more likely by the minute.

  Chapter One

  Carl Phillips looked around Kyle and Kent West’s large office. Christ, the room was bigger than his last off-base apartment. Most of the team was present—seated in various spots around the room, including their single female member. But if Carl was going to place bets, he would bet Jen McCall would be darting out of the room at any moment. It was fairly obvious the stunning blonde was pregnant, but as far as he knew, she and her husbands hadn’t made an official announcement yet. When she looked up and saw him looking in her direction, she made a half-assed attempt to smile, but it was as if she was afraid to move any more than necessary. He remembered hearing about Gracie McDonald’s pregnancy, evidently it had been a torturous ride, and he hoped Jen’s went smoother.

  Most of the men lounging around the cavernous room had been in the Special Forces at the same time, and Carl had served with most of them. He considered every man in the room a friend—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn down this assignment if the scuttlebutt he’d been hearing was true. He didn’t know Dr. Cecelia Barnes, nor did he wish her to come to harm, but the thought of being in the same room with Cameron Barnes again sent pinpricks of something to close to fear racing
through him. His fear wasn’t of the man himself, it was of who Carl had once been in his presence, and Carl was smart enough to avoid exposing his throat to a wolf more than once.

  As he sat to the side watching everything unfold, Carl tried to sort through his feelings, but they were such a muddled mess it was difficult. He understood the excited adrenaline-fueled anxiety that accompanied particularly dicey missions, hell, he’d thrived on that high during his years as a SEAL. But this was something else entirely. This was a jolt of pure awareness, and it was far more dangerous.

  Carl had spent the better part of his entire adult life trying to push Cameron Barnes from his memories…struggling to not let the man’s face surface in his mind when his best friend, Peter Weston, was near. As an empath, Peter often heard or saw what was happening in the minds of those near him, particularly anyone with whom he shared a particular bond. Carl had worked hard over their years as partners to build a fortress around his memories of Cameron. But he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to maintain that mental shield if he folded under Kyle West’s skillful manipulation. God the man missed his calling. He really should have been a fucking politician.

  Kyle was presenting the case information in the straightforward, no nonsense way they were all accustomed to, but his eyes kept darting toward Carl. The pictures on the large screen to Kyle’s right showed pictures of Dr. Barnes, her clinic, the home she shared with her family, her husband’s ultra-exclusive sex club, and finally—Cameron Barnes. Just looking at the man’s photograph sent a white-hot surge of electricity up and back down his spine. The heat had literally traveled at the speed of light until settling squarely in his cock. Just fucking perfect, sitting here thinking about working with one of my team leaders’ buddies and I sprout a major woody…just brilliant, Phillips.

  The final picture was of the Barnes’ sleeping daughter, Chloe. Even though Carl knew his new boss had left the sleeping infant’s picture on the screen deliberately, it didn’t lessen its impact. Cameron Barnes had a dark past…a very dark past tainted by his exposure to the world on a level most people only see in the movies or on the evening news. Cameron had, at one time or another, worked for almost every alphabet agency the United States had ever managed to dream up, not to mention those of more governments than the average American could name. He’d been the “go to guy” for missions requiring such a variety of skills, Cam was often referred to as the MacGyver of the spy world. He was fearless, brilliant, and deadly.

  Looking up, Carl met Peter’s gaze and knew in that instant he’d let his guard down for the microsecond his friend had needed. Peter raised a brow in question but didn’t voice the inquiry—he didn’t have to. The intense look on Peter’s face told Carl they would be having the conversation he’d always dreaded—and that it would likely occur sooner rather than later. Peter Weston was one of the least judgmental men Carl had ever known. He'd always wondered if Peter was open-minded because of the overload of information he received every day or because the man’s gift of insight into the hearts and minds of others kept him from judging people harshly until they crossed some “impossible to define” boundary of personal and ethical behavior. Peter Weston’s hypersensitivity to extreme violence kept him out of combat situations most of the time, but his contributions to the intelligence gathering the teams depended on had been immeasurable.

  Just as Kyle turned his gaze toward Carl, a quick movement to his left caught everyone’s attention. Jen McCall was standing unsteadily on her feet, her eyes darting around the room as if assessing the most expedient route of escape. Her pretty face had gone a pasty shade of green that made Carl think of the rundown medical facilities of the Middle East. Her hand was pressed firmly against her mouth and beads of sweat popped out over her face and arms right in front of his eyes. She's never going to get out of here in time without help. The thought had no sooner moved through his mind than Sam McCall scooped his petite wife into his arms and made his way quickly out of the office.

  His brother stood and flashed everyone a guilty grin. Sage was younger and less intense, and his boyish demeanor often fooled targets into underestimating him, but the man was every bit as deadly in a fight as any operative Carl had ever met. “Guess this confirms the rumors that have been circulating around the club. We’d planned to explain at the end of this meeting why we are pulling out of the assignment, but I think things speak for themselves.” When Sage’s gaze met his, Carl knew he was fucked seven ways to Sunday, “We appreciate the fact we’re a part of a team that is more family-oriented than most. Thanks for stepping up even when I sense for some reason it isn’t going to be easy for you.”

  Yeah, you could fucking say that again. Craptastic.

  Sage stepped through the doorway, but stuck his head back in and smiled ruefully, “We’ll give your housekeeper a heads up, and ummm…pay for the rug.” Carl had to hold back his laugh because the man had turned a nice shade of green himself. “Oh, and tell your women she’s seven weeks along—I know they’ll ask and I don’t want twenty text messages.” As soon as the door closed, the room erupted into laughter and the occasional gagging noise. It was good to know their frat mentality was never far below the surface.

  *****

  Cameron Barnes stared down at the letter laying in the center of his desk, but he wasn’t really seeing it. It didn’t matter, he’d read it so many times he knew each word by heart. He’d known better than to tempt fate by feeling safe. The life he’d led, the enemies he’d made, the demons he’d befriended, wouldn’t be so easily cast aside, and he’d been foolish to think he’d come through it all unscathed. But having it so clearly pointed out had shaken him to his core. Cam had completed missions no other operative would even consider without even hesitating, but his hands had shaken so badly when he’d first opened the messenger’s envelope he’d been forced to place the letter on his desk just to read it.

  After alerting his staff and sending additional security to Cecelia’s clinic, Cam had called the only men he trusted with the lives of his wife and child. Their first conversation had been short, as he’d known it would be. Kent and Kyle West had promised to give their team a quick sit-rep and have them on their way within the hour. They hadn’t been sure which two-man team would be coming, and Cam hadn’t thought to ask why until Kyle had called back to let him know help was on the way.

  “I’d recommend assigning one man to CeCe and the other to the club. Since there weren’t any direct threats to Chloe, I really believe Adam and Camille can easily protect her, and their vested interest only strengthens their conviction to keep her safe. Let Fischer know we’re sending his brother for a visit. He’ll be able to use their sibling connection as a cover for visiting the club. Peter’s gifts aren’t as strong as Fischer’s, but he is a people magnet and hides his gifts better than his siblings.” Cam agreed. He’d met all three Weston brothers and understood exactly what Kyle was talking about. Peter was far more discreet than either his older or his younger brother, and most people who met him had no idea how much he learned about them from a simple handshake.

  Cam knew only a handful of Peter’s commanding officers had known about his abilities, and they’d worked hard to utilize his gifts without compromising his safety. Hell, if the company had ever gotten wind of what Peter and his brothers could do, there’d be no end to their recruiting efforts. The only other man who’d been more valuable behind the scenes was Micah Drake. Micah was usually referred to as the computer guru or hacker to the gods—depending on your prospective. Smiling for the first time in hours, Cam couldn’t help but wonder how the Wests had managed to lure so many of the SEAL teams’ best and brightest right out from under the noses of the brass. Cam had offered the Wests his advice on several different missions they’d taken since they’d begun contract work. He’d advised them to walk away from a few also. Too bad you didn’t listen when you were told the same thing. Perhaps he wouldn’t have brought the dregs of the world to his front door if he’d been thinking about his futur
e instead of continually running from the past.

  Now, after all those years spent convincing himself he’d made the right decision by walking away from the man he hadn’t seen since that night twenty-five years ago, they were going to be face to face in a matter of minutes. Cam had known the minute Kyle had said Peter was on his way who the second man was. Peter Weston and Carl Phillips had been partners since BUDs and they’d joined the Wests’ team at the same time, so it was a no-brainer.

  Cameron shook his head as he remembered how he’d spent hours convincing the Headmaster that he alone, was responsible for the “isolated incident” and then walked right past his friend without uttering a word. Cam had made certain that by the time Carl returned to their room, he’d be gone. He’d lived off-campus for the last few weeks of school, enlisted in the military, and skipped the graduation ceremony. His family had ignored him for years, and Cam was convinced they’d only “offered” to put aside their differences because of Cecelia. Clearly having a renowned pediatric surgeon in the family had gone miles farther than a mercenary who’d traveled the world, pledging his loyalty to whoever offered him the most lucrative deal. Their offer had been too little and far too late, he hadn’t even returned their call.