Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 154925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Because he’s not my biological uncle, hence the we-don’t-share-a-last-name thing.” He’d been standing in this hallway for at least ten minutes trying to decide if he was actually going in, but now he found himself scrambling behind her so the door didn’t close and he was left on the wrong side.
She strode through, her combat boots clomping against the marble floors. “Huh. He told everyone you were his nephew. So you’re Grace’s kid?”
“I am not a kid at all but yes, Grace Taggart is my mom. But I do call Ian my uncle. It’s different when it comes to Sean. I had a dad. I didn’t have an uncle. I call Sean by his name since I was pretty much an adult when they met. Mostly.”
That seemed like a million years ago. A full lifetime he could never get back no matter how familiar this place was. The fact that a super-adorable woman with what looked like a banging bod worked here now was proof that the place was likely as changed as Kyle himself.
She turned, those dumb, shouldn’t-be-so-sexy pigtails swinging. “I didn’t think about that. You knew Sean before he was the Soldier Chef.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I knew him when he was the asshole who was trying to sleep with my mom. I actually called him that over the phone once. I hadn’t met him at the time. I kind of pictured him being this pudgy dude wearing khakis that came up to his nipples and had a pornstache. So I threatened him.”
That smile went nuclear again. “Bet you wet your pants when you finally did meet him.”
He hadn’t thought about that day in forever. He shook his head. “Not at all. I’d talked to him enough by then that I knew he was a solid dude. When I met him, we were at a hospital because my mom was in a coma. I hugged him, and he got us all through that and then we were family.”
Why had he said that? He was guarded. He didn’t blurt things out.
Her expression softened. “That’s great. It doesn’t surprise me Sean Taggart’s a good stepdad. Big Tag’s pretty much every sad-sack employee who needs one’s dad. Not that I would tell him that. Not the dad part.”
“You?”
“Absolutely. My dad sucks. I think when Ian picked up on that he moved into what he thinks is the big brother role, but he’s a dad. It’s probably because he’s got so many kids. They’re like everywhere. But you know that. You probably got to watch them grow up and stuff.”
He hadn’t. He barely knew his half siblings. He’d been around when they were little. Even when he’d first gone in the Navy, he’d come home on leave and he and David would take their younger sister and brother out to the movies and to baseball games, and then secrets had become his whole world and spies had replaced his family.
“I’ve been away for a couple of years. In the Navy.” He couldn’t tell anyone what he’d actually been doing the last three years of his life. Not even his parents, and definitely not his uncle or anyone here at McKay-Taggart.
He rather thought that was part of this whole sabbatical thing. His bosses wanted to see how wrecked he was and if he could still keep a secret.
What they didn’t understand was how far he would go to keep his family from knowing how badly he’d screwed up. His family didn’t know he’d worked with their CIA contact, Drake Radcliffe, for years. They didn’t know he had anything to do with the Agency at all.
They definitely didn’t know about Julia Ennis, and they never would.
“You don’t look military to me,” MaeBe said. “But then there are a couple of former CIA agents who I would never have guessed.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to argue with her since he knew exactly who she was talking about. Michael Malone and Greg Hutchins had been on a CIA Special Forces team. So had his Uncle Theo and several other guys who worked for McKay-Taggart. None of them had been operatives. Not a one of them had ever slipped into a bedroom and slit the throat of an enemy.
Now his Aunt Charlotte was another story altogether.
“Well, I guess being able to blend in is good for a spy,” he replied. “As for me, all I had to do was know how to swim and duck. How about you? You do not look like an Army girl to me, but I happen to know my uncle only hires ex-military.”
She frowned, though he still found the expression incredibly endearing. “There are a couple of us nonmilitary types. Me. Yasmin, the receptionist. Genny Rycroft has been here for years.” She waved as the door came open. “That guy. Hey, Beck.”