Page 12 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets
“Very well. The keys are located upon the counter in my office. I trust you will take care not to set the place ablaze. I am departing shortly for the farm to attend to dinner arrangements. Please ensure the premises are securely locked upon your departure.” He did not wait for a response, already turning toward his truck. He needed to make his way to Mountain View.
The drive to Mountain View Farms was short, the winding mountain roads familiar even in the deepening dusk. Bear’s house was a beacon of warmth and light. He could smell the grilling meat before he opened the door.
“Dog! Get in here!” Bear’s booming voice greeted him as he stepped inside. The warm, savory smell of Flora’s cooking and the chaotic energy of family life immediately enveloped him.
Instead of the sterile operations center, tonight was about grounding himself. He stepped into the dining room where Bear’s wife, Flora, was setting a massive roast on the table. Their three kids, Rhys, Kenzi and Amelia, were already scrambling into their seats and bickering good-naturedly over who got to sit next to their “Uncle” Dog.
Around his friends, Dog’s polished, formal articulation slipped away without his notice, replaced by a casual, effortless manner of speaking. Years of early childhood training had ingrained in him the ability to modulate his speech, but here at Bear’s table, he could just be himself.
“Good to see you, man,” Dog said, taking a seat and accepting a plate from Flora with a grateful smile. “How’s the rest of the team holding up? Feels like half the roster is out of state.”
Bear loaded his plate with mashed potatoes. “Pretty busy around here these days. Moose and Elena finally wrapped up their renovations and passed all the social worker inspections. Their boarding house is officially open now, giving kids who age out of foster care a safe place to land.”
“That’s incredible,” Dog nodded, genuinely impressed. “Moose has a good heart. What about Shadow and Jax?”
“Road trip,” Bear replied, passing the gravy. “They snagged a contract providing close protection for a multi-state rock band tour. From what Jax texted me yesterday, the lead singer is a handful, but the pay is astronomical.”
“And Viper is on a date!” Amelia piped up, her young voice cutting through the adult conversation with gleeful clarity.
Kenzi’s eyes went wide, and she immediately leaned over, swatting her younger sister’s arm. “Amelia! Shush! We weren’t supposed to tell them!”
Forks clattered to the table simultaneously. Bear and Dog froze, the relaxed family atmosphere instantly evaporating, replaced by the rigid, hyper-focused intensity of two very protective, Alpha-male older brothers.
“A date?” Bear’s voice dropped an octave, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his daughters.
Dog leaned forward, his protective instincts flaring up right alongside Bear’s. “With who? Who is he?”
“Where did she meet him?” Bear demanded, pulling his phone out of his pocket as if preparing to launch a full-scale tactical investigation. “What’s his last name? Has he been vetted?”
“Is he local?” Dog added, already mentally calculating how fast Link could run a background check. “Tell me somebody ran his plates, at least.”
Flora rolled her eyes to the ceiling, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as she set down the gravy boat. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Both of you, stand down and eat your dinner. I think she is perfectly capable of having dinner with a man without the two of you treating it like a hostage situation.”
Bear and Dog exchanged a dark, unconvinced look across the table. It didn’t matter to either of them what her resume said, how old she was, or how many confirmed kills she had from a mile away. To them, she was still their little sister-in-arms, and that meant any guy taking her out to dinner was stepping into a minefield.
“A sniper needs a spotter,” Bear grumbled, picking his fork back up but keeping his phone dangerously close to his plate. “A basic threat assessment wouldn’t hurt.”
“Agreed,” Dog muttered, slicing into his roast with far more force than necessary. “Civilians are unpredictable. We’ll have Link run a full work-up on him right after dessert.”
Flora just shook her head, smiling fondly at the two massive men sulking over their mashed potatoes. The tension over Viper’s date eventually dissolved back into the familiar, chaotic hum of the dinner table.
As Dog reached for another roll, eleven-year-old Rhys leaned over, his eyes bright with excitement. “Hey, Uncle Dog? Sammy and I almost finished the chassis for our new battle bot. We figured out a way to mount the pneumatic flipper without throwing off the weight distribution.”
Dog smiled, his demeanor softening completely as he gave the boy his full attention. “Is that right? Last time I checked, you two were arguing over the battery placement. Sammy doing okay? I know he’s been going stir-crazy being laid up.”
“He’s good,” Rhys said, stuffing a piece of roast into his mouth and talking around it until Flora shot him a warning look. He swallowed quickly. “He’s stuck on the couch since the helicopter crash, so he’s done all the coding. He gets his leg cast off next week.”
“Then the real fun begins,” Bear chimed in from the head of the table. “He starts physical therapy on Tuesday. He thinks he’s ready to run a marathon, but PT is going to humble him real quick.”
“Well, he’s got a lot of fight in him,” Dog said, taking a sip of his water. “Make sure you tell him I said to listen to his physical therapist, or I’ll come over there and put him in a headlock. I want to see this robot in action once he’s back on his feet.”
“We’ll run a full demonstration,” Rhys promised, beaming. “Just don’t tell mom we’re testing the flamethrower attachment in the driveway.”
Flora slowly lowered her fork, her eyebrows raising as she looked at her son. “The what attachment?”
Bear and Dog both suddenly found their plates intensely interesting, doing their best to hide their smirks as Rhys realized his tactical error.
“Uh…the, um…the flare attachment?” Rhys tried, his voice squeaking slightly. “For…visual effects?”
