Forged in Ash (A Red-Hot SEALs Novel) Read online

  Cosky’s face tightened. “I’m aware they aren’t always right.”

  He glared down at the bags covering his knee. Of course he knew the docs weren’t always right…but, the knifing pains, the numbness, the tingling. Yeah, his instincts whispered they were right this time.

  The bone wasn’t healing. He could sense it. Hell, he could feel it.

  “Yeah, that’s the thing though…” Aiden walked over and stood in front of the couch, staring down into Cosky’s face. “They were right.”

  Cosky frowned. “Come again?”

  “The docs were right. I saw the X-rays. Hell, Rawls saw the X-rays, he’ll tell you. My spine was toast. I shouldn’t be on my feet.”

  Cosky straightened. “But you are,” he pointed out. Except…Rawls’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, Cos. It ain’t natural. He was missing a chunk of his spine. Far as I know, that shit don’t grow back.”

  “Rawls mentioned it,” Cosky admitted slowly. “He thought you’d been in some secret experiment.”

  Aiden barked out another laugh. “No shit?” The amusement faded. “No experiment. I’m walking because of Kait. Because she has a gift—like Zane. Only Kait’s gift is in her hands. It comes from our father, passed from generation to generation. Sometimes…not always…but sometimes, she can heal. Sometimes she can do amazing things. Like regenerate a chunk of spine.” His gaze dropped to Cosky’s leg. “Or generate bone in a knee that isn’t healing.”

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  YOU WHAT?” KAIT Winchester froze in front of her front room’s window, pulled the phone away from her ear, and stared at it.

  Maybe this was a joke. Her brother had a twisted sense of humor. He was probably pranking her. Except…he had no idea that she had feelings for the man he’d apparently volunteered her…gifts…to help. Or, at least, that she used to have feelings for the man. Strong feelings. The kind of feelings that sparked tingling in certain parts of her body

  The kind of feelings she didn’t want to revisit.

  A blast of static exploded through the ear set, followed by the low rumble of Aiden’s voice.

  Kait leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and pressed the phone back against her ear. “Back up. You did what?”

  “I told Cos you might be able to help his knee.” This time the horrifying news came through crystal clear. Her stomach tightened and started a series of agitated flips.

  “Why in the world did you tell him that?” Kait asked, her fingers almost crushing the plastic casing of her cell.

  “Because he’s desperate. His knee isn’t healing. He’s looking at additional surgery, disability to the joint. He won’t be able to requalify for the team.”

  She snorted. Yeah, like that was the end of the world.

  But after a moment, Kait sighed. To some of them, being forced off the teams would be the end of their world. Her brother, for example, would mourn that loss to his dying breath. Her father had missed the adrenaline ride so much he’d taken a foolish risk, on a mission he hadn’t been needed for, and ended up paying with his life.

  Of course, special operators couldn’t ride the lifestyle forever. At some point they had to retire—the human body, no matter how well honed, couldn’t handle the punishing training and deployments forever.

  But in general, the warriors in the SEAL community handled the transition easier if retirement was their choice.

  Cosky’s lean, powerful frame flitted through her mind. He was one of the hottest, most impressive examples of masculinity she’d ever laid eyes on—which explained the tingles and the sweaty palms she’d experienced in his proximity.

  While his square face and gray eyes were majorly distracting, he wasn’t exactly handsome. His nose had been broken too many times for that. So his sexiness lay in his lean strength, and his fluid, graceful stride.

  Her heart ached to think of him losing that gracefulness, to think of him facing a life of disability and pain because of some lowlife’s selfishness and greed.

  If she could make a difference…

  Not that there was any guarantee she could help him. While her track record wasn’t disastrous, it wasn’t exactly impressive either.

  “You know as well as I do there’s only a thirty percent chance of it helping,” she finally said, hating the tightness in her voice.

  Wolf, her newly discovered half brother, counseled her to focus on the thirty percent she had helped, like Aiden and Demi. But somehow Kait’s memories always veered back to those she hadn’t been able to help. Like Aunt Issa.

  Her throat tightened beneath an echo of grief.

  The thirty percent of people she’d helped through her lifetime would never make up for the seventy percent she’d failed.

  What if Cosky became one of the seventy?

  “It’s not like you’re gonna hurt anything,” Aiden coaxed. “He’s facing surgery anyway. If your healing doesn’t take, he’s got the surgery to fall back on, so what’s the harm? You can’t make it worse…and if the healing takes…”

  What’s the harm?

  She swallowed a sarcastic laugh. How about the intimacy such healings required? How about the fact he’d be all but naked and she’d be rubbing her hands all over that mouthwatering body? How about the fact it had taken her ages to push the man out of her head and her dreams, and that was without exchanging even one freaking word with him?

  How about the fact that he’d made it obvious that while he’d been attracted to her, she hadn’t been worth his time?

  Talk about ego crushers.

  But then Aiden didn’t know any of that. He’d been half out of his head because of pain and pills. He hadn’t picked up on her reaction to Cosky or his reaction to her when they’d brushed past each other in Aiden’s hospital room.

  “You did tell him most of the time the healings don’t work?”

  “Of course.” Aiden’s voice sharpened. “I gave him the percentages.” His voice lightened. “Interestingly, thirty is the percentage the doc gave him before surgery. You think that’s good luck, or bad?”

  “And he’s agreed to this?” Kait asked, rolling her hot forehead against the icy window. The man had been avoiding her for years. He must be desperate if he’d agreed to Aiden’s suggestion.

  “He said he’d think about it. But he took your phone number.”

  Wow. Kait’s lips twisted. He’d finally asked for her phone number…five years too late and for all the wrong reasons.

  “You’ll do it, right? If he calls?” Aiden asked.

  Kait sighed, stepped back from the window, and straightened her shoulders. As if she could say no. “Sure.”

  “Good. Good.”

  There was no relief in his voice, but then, he’d never doubted she’d agree. He knew her too well; if there was even a fraction of a chance she could help one of his wounded teammates…they both knew that chance had to be explored.

  “He’s going to keep this quiet, right?” She turned from the living room window, heading for the freezer and the emergency stash of Ben and Jerry’s she kept for just this kind of occasion.

  “He won’t say anything,” Aiden assured her.

  No doubt he was right. The last thing Cosky would want was his teammates knowing he’d visited a spiritual healer.

  “So you all moved in?” she asked.

  The fact Aiden was moving in with Rawls and Cosky had given her pause—her brother’s change of address would pull Marcus Simcosky in the peripheral of her life again—until she realized how rarely she visited Aiden anyway. When he wasn’t on deployment, or out training, he visited her. “I still don’t get it; why not just buy your own place?”

  Lord knows he had the money. Their parents’ estate had left them well-off. They could live on the interest from the inheritance for their rest of their lives, without touching the principle. Not that she could convince Wolf of that—or that, as their father’s eldest son, a
third of the estate should go to him.

  Aiden had inherited the same wealth she had, but he’d inherited even more from their lineage. He’d manifested the same gift their father had honed through the years—a gift that had turned John Winchester into a very wealthy man, and provided the money his children now enjoyed.

  Her brother rarely mentioned the investments he made based on his inherited sense of knowing. He was well aware that acquiring more money was of no interest to her. Aiden though—it was a challenge to him, a game.

  “I like having roommates.” Aiden’s voice cooled.

  “Then why didn’t you stay where you were?” He’d seemed to get along great with Tag and Trammel.

  “Just felt like a change,” he said, his voice even cooler, which meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

  Sure enough, he changed the subject.

  “Word came down today. Wheels up in forty-eight.”

  Kait’s chest tightened and her heart picked up speed. It didn’t matter how many times they went through this. The fear never loosened its hold. She’d accepted that years ago. Learned to live with it.

  “Try to make it home in one piece,” she offered their ritualistic farewell.

  He laughed, also part of their ritual. But the sudden hesitation after the laugh wasn’t.

  She cocked her head and waited.

  “Wolf called this…”

  “Oh, no!” Kait groaned. The last time Aiden had deployed, Wolf had all but moved in with her, as though she were incapable of surviving on her own even though she’d been living alone for years.

  “I didn’t call him,” Aiden protested, his voice rising. “He just knew. I don’t know what pipeline he’s tapped into, but he’s tied in good.”

  Or, Wolf had simply known Aiden was deploying. It made sense. Her father had possessed such a sense of knowing, as did Aiden. It was obviously tied to the male chromosome in their bloodline. And Wolf shared those genes.

  “For God’s sake, tell me you stressed that I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve managed to survive on my own for twenty-nine years.”

  “He’s your brother, hookecouhu hiteseiw. He wants to protect you.”

  Perfect, Wolf had Aiden giving her Arapaho pet names now too.

  Kait huffed out a breath. “Do you even know what that means? And he’s our brother. But I don’t see him following you around like a hopped-up rottweiler.”

  Aiden’s dead silence froze Kait’s fingers on the refrigerator handle. “What?”

  His breathing sounded strangled. He coughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s babysitting me too.”

  Something told Kait Aiden wasn’t talking about while he was walking around Coronado. “What happened?”

  “We ran into a snag on our last insertion. Got stuck between floors. Wolf and some badasses swept in and unstuck us.”

  Kait’s mouth opened in shock. She’d known that last assignment had gone south. Two of Aiden’s teammates had flown home in body bags. It hadn’t occurred to her that Wolf had prevented Aiden from the same fate.

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s on some kind of covert team. He told us he had enemies who would use us against him. That’s why he wanted to keep our relationship secret. What team was it?”

  “Not any branch I’ve seen. They were Arapaho. Or at least they were speaking Arapaho.” He paused, the silence just hanging there. “Like I said, he’s piped in.”

  So Wolf was serving his country. It didn’t surprise her. Wolf was their father’s son, just as Aiden was. It made sense he’d have the same sense of duty, honor, and warrior capabilities as the rest of the men in her life.

  Sadness swept through her. If only Wolf had reached out earlier, before their father’s death. It hurt to think of how much her father had lost by cutting himself off from his heritage. He’d lost the chance to connect with his eldest son, a son he would have loved as much as he’d loved her and Aiden.

  She shook the regret aside. “Who do you think he works for?”

  Tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear, she opened the freezer and grabbed the tub of ice cream. She pried off the top and peered inside. Not much consolation in there.

  “No idea. But he called the shots and, damn, his team kicked ass.”

  His Arapaho team.

  Kait’s gaze narrowed in thought. Before the Northern Arapaho had been forced onto the Wind River reservation, they’d been a high plains tribe with a strong warrior society. Many of the modern Arapaho people still possessed those warrior inclinations.

  Like her father and brothers.

  “I’m thinking of visiting Wind River,” Kait said tentatively. She already knew how her brother would react. He’d picked up their father’s bias years ago.

  “The reservation?” Aiden’s voice rose in surprise. “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

  “Because they’re our people. Because it’s our Arapaho blood that carries our gifts. We have relatives there. Aren’t you even curious?”

  She’d been curious for years, particularly after her healing ability had manifested itself. But her father had reacted with such anger when she’d asked about his family or the reservation, she’d pushed the questions aside. And then his death had numbed her. It had taken Wolf’s arrival to stir the curiosity again.

  “They aren’t our people. Dad didn’t want anything to do with the res. The teams were his family—not a bunch of child abusers who drowned their gifts beneath drugs and booze.” Aiden’s voice flattened.

  “Wolf’s not a drunk, or a drug user,” Kait said quietly.

  “Yeah, and Wolf doesn’t live on the reservation either. He bugged out early, just like Dad. We’re better off sticking with the teams.” There was dismissal in her brother’s voice.

  Well, the teams might be his family, just as they’d been their father’s, but while the SEAL community was supportive, she’d never felt as entrenched in the culture as her father and brother. And then there was Wolf—she’d learned more from Wolf in the past year about her Arapaho healing abilities than she’d ever learned from her dad.

  Maybe her grandfather and grandmother had been monsters, but regardless of her father’s warped childhood perspective, not all Arapaho were drunken, drug-dealing sociopaths. What if she could find answers on the reservation, learn how to boost her healing?

  “Anyway,” Aiden’s voice turned brisk. “Don’t be surprised if Cos calls. Things look pretty grim for him.”

  After a final round of stay-safes, Aiden broke the connection.

  Kait tossed the ice cream’s lid onto the kitchen counter, grabbed a spoon from the dish drain, and dropped it inside the carton. Phone in one hand, solace in the other, she padded back to the living room and settled cross-legged on the couch.

  She didn’t have a massage table, so Cosky would have to lie on the couch or the floor. Assuming he called, because his knee would have to be pretty bad for Marcus Simcosky to call her.

  She wasn’t an idiot, nor did she have any illusion about her looks. She was attractive and men noticed. She’d been picking up on their nonverbal cues since puberty.

  So she knew he’d reacted to her as they’d brushed past each other in Aiden’s hospital room. She’d recognized the catch in his stride, the intensity and heat in his eyes. She’d watched sensuality flush his face and soften his hard mouth.

  He’d wanted her.

  One look, one electrifying brush of bare skin on bare skin as their arms touched, and he’d wanted her.

  Just as she’d wanted him.

  Sure it had been pure animal attraction, primal lust. But it had been stronger than anything she’d felt before…or since.

  She’d been so sure he’d turn around, follow her back into Aiden’s room, strike up a conversation, and ask her out. When he hadn’t, she thought he’d decided on a more private approach. She’d expected him to call. She’d waited three days for that call before the realization set in.

  Marcus Simcosky was a confident man. The kind o
f man who went after what he wanted. Ergo, if he’d wanted her, really wanted her, he would have come after her by now. He would have tracked her down. He would have asked her out.

  He wasn’t dating anyone, so there was nothing holding him back. She’d known that from the conversations she’d listened in on between Aiden, Rawls, and Zane, while sitting at her brother’s bedside. And those conversations had brought another revelation. He was avoiding Aiden’s hospital room. Unlike Zane and Rawls, who had visited almost every day prior to their next deployment, Cosky hadn’t visited her brother again. It had been such an obvious abandonment, even Rawls and Aiden had commented on it, although no one seemed to know why.

  Kait knew—it was because of her.

  If he’d been a less confident man, she would have approached him, explored that instant, overwhelming hunger. But he didn’t lack confidence. If he’d wanted to pursue the attraction between them, he would have. And damn if she was going to pursue him and try to convince him she was worth his time and attention.

  No matter how many nights she’d dreamed about him.

  Or how many mornings she’d woken aching in places better off not dwelled on.

  Cosky glanced in the review mirror and punched the accelerator, bracing his elbow against the door handle as his pickup shot forward. From behind him, a car backfired. The explosive sound echoed in the air, as staccato as a gunshot. A rusted two-door sedan, the same one that had been riding his ass for the last mile, took the corner on a greasy plume of exhaust and settled in behind his bumper, tailing him so closely he could clearly see the driver—a thin, jaundiced woman with ratty brown hair.

  There was no question. He’d picked up a tail.

  She was of European descent, which didn’t mean shit these days with domestic terrorists giving the foreign ones some serious competition for murder and mayhem. Although he doubted she was a Tango. Terrorists trained their cell members better. The woman was a complete amateur. Or an idiot. Or both. Only a moron would tail him so closely he could see her face. He glanced in the review mirror as the sedan backfired again. Black exhaust slicked the street behind him. At the very least a professional would choose a less conspicuous ride.