Resurrection Read online

  Resurrection

  Redemption Harbor Series

  Katie Reus

  She faked her own death…

  Skye Arévalo left the CIA and faked her death to protect Colt Stuart, the only man she ever loved. Months later, a brutal kidnapping draws her to quietly infiltrate a dangerous cartel. Just when she thinks she’s home free, things go horribly wrong and she escapes with bloodthirsty enemies on her heels…only to find herself face to face with a bewildered and angry Colt.

  He’ll cross every line to save her…

  When Colt Stuart, a former Marine, finds out the woman he loved betrayed him, he’s shocked and hurt, but it doesn’t stop him from breaking every law on the books to keep her alive. Unfortunately, it might not be enough to stop a powerful enemy who will do anything to see Skye dead.

  Resurrection

  Copyright © 2017 Katie Reus

  Cover Art by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

  Editing: Julia Ganis

  Digital Formatting by Author E.M.S.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  ISBN: 9781635560145

  Table of Contents

  RESURRECTION

  About the Book

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Thank You for Reading!

  Excerpt from LETHAL GAME

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Complete Booklist

  Dedication

  For my incredible sister. Thank you for everything.

  Prologue

  Colt Stuart looked through his government-issued binoculars at the terrorist bastard beating the shit out of one of his subordinates for whatever imagined slight. The guy working for their target was no saint either, but still. “What a pussy,” he muttered.

  “Hey!” Flat on her stomach, the sexy redhead perched on the hill with him gave him a dirty look before returning her gaze to the scope of her custom Remington 700.

  Or he assumed it was a dirty look, because he didn’t look directly at Skye Arévalo, his new partner of two weeks in the CIA. Because when he did, it was hard to focus and hard to hide his attraction to her. For a multitude of reasons. Everything about her called to him on the most primal level. “What?” he asked.

  “You like pussy?”

  Okay, now he looked at her. Was this a trick question? “Uh, yeah?”

  She lifted an eyebrow, her ice blue eyes cold. “You respect pussy?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Didn’t even have to think about that.

  “Then don’t insult it by calling him a pussy. Call him what he is. A dick. Or an asshole.”

  His lips kicked up as he drank in her pissed-off expression. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to marry you.”

  She stared at him with horror in those Mediterranean-blue eyes before rolling said eyes and turning away to look back through the scope. “You’ve got problems,” she muttered.

  “Is it inappropriate that I like it when you say the word pussy?” he murmured, returning to his binos and trying not to imagine what she’d look like naked. Trying and failing.

  For this mission they’d had to change clothes in tight quarters and she’d had no issue stripping down to her boyshort panties and sports bra in front of him. She was average height, lean and ridiculously sexy. When he’d seen the text on the back of her panties—Badass with a good ass—he’d fallen just a little harder for her.

  “Pretty sure that’s sexual harassment, dude.”

  “File a report.” They were working undercover, basically didn’t exist to the civilian word. There would be no report to file.

  She snorted at the ridiculousness of his words. “To answer your question, yes, it’s inappropriate. But it’s okay. I like inappropriate.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Wasn’t sure how to respond to most things that came out of Skye’s mouth—a woman who carried C4 in her purse and called it “being prepared,” as if she was a freaking Boy Scout. The one thing he was sure of: he hadn’t been kidding about that marriage comment. Not locking down this woman would be pure insanity. Because he was pretty damn sure there was no one else in the world like her. And even if he was also pretty damn sure she was a little crazy, he liked her brand of it.

  “You’ve got a clean shot,” he murmured. For this mission they’d literally done rock, paper, scissors to decide who was behind the rifle. Her idea, of course. He was pretty sure she’d cheated too.

  “Yeah I do.” She pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 1

  —Against all odds and logic, we hope.—

  Fourteen months later

  Colt banged his fist against the door, fear and the smallest bit of hope punching through him. “Answer the fucking door,” he snarled. “Open, or I kick it in.”

  “Maybe you should take it down a notch.” Next to him, Brooks shoved an agitated hand through his hair, his Stetson held loosely at his side.

  “And maybe you should be freaking out more.” One of their best friends had been holed up in his home for weeks, refusing to talk to anyone, to see anyone. Colt didn’t know exactly what his friend was going through, but he’d lost a lot of damn friends in the sandbox and the only woman he’d ever loved had died too. Something he couldn’t think about right now. He couldn’t focus on his own pain when he could help his friend, when he had a damn purpose.

  Mercer had recently lost his wife, and the man wasn’t handling it. The guy had been in love with Mary Grace since he was fifteen. They’d been each other’s world. And two months ago she’d been killed in Mexico, a victim of cartel violence. Allegedly.

  Colt hadn’t been in love with Skye since he was a kid, but eight months with her sure felt like a lifetime. Hell, when she died it felt like he’d lost part of himself. The only part that mattered. He had to force himself out of bed every day, to shove back the emptiness. So on one level, he understood how Mercer felt. He shoved that thought right back inside where it belonged and ignored it. He couldn’t fix his own problem, but he could help out Mercer.

  Panic swelled through Colt as the seconds ticked by without any response from inside—until he heard cursing on the other side of the door. Good. If his friend
was cursing, he was alive. A solid minute later the lock snicked loudly as it twisted open.

  Colt grabbed the handle and shoved it open, pushing past his best friend in case he tried to slam the door closed in his face.

  Mercer, wearing boxers and nothing else, had grown a full black beard and his dark eyes were glassy. “What the hell are you doing here this early?”

  “First, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Second…” Colt hauled off and punched him right in the nose. He needed to wake Mercer the hell up. Violence was pretty much the only way to do that now.

  “Ah, hell,” Brooks muttered as Mercer flew back and fell on his ass with a grunt.

  He held a hand to his nose, looking more alert than he had in two months as he glared up at Colt and Brooks. “What the hell, man?” His voice was muffled as he tried to stop the bleeding.

  “I believe this is called an intervention,” Colt said, stepping into the foyer, cringing at the stench. “God, it smells like old pizza and cow crap in here. Mary Grace would kick your ass if she saw you living like this.”

  “Don’t say her name!” Mercer shoved to his feet, letting his hand drop. Blood dripped down his face as he snarled at Colt. His teeth were toothpaste commercial white against his dark brown skin. Right now he looked like a rabid wolf baring his teeth at them.

  “I’ll say her name if I want.” Yeah, he knew he was being harsh, but this was what Mercer needed. He needed to feel something, to wake the hell up. And making Mercer angry was the only way Colt knew how. Because the guy sure wasn’t going to talk about his fucking feelings. He needed to get out of this rabbit hole he’d let himself fall into. “We all lost her. Every single one of us.”

  Most days Colt couldn’t believe she was gone. They’d all grown up together, and in his case, he’d been friends with Mary Grace since they were five years old. She was like a sister to Colt. Hell, he was still holding on to the hope that she wasn’t actually gone. It was why he was about to get on a plane in two hours and see if the tip he’d received was right. But first he had to make sure one of his best friends didn’t do something stupid while he was gone.

  “Mary Grace.”

  “Ah, hell,” Brooks said again, clearly not going to intervene. Just muttering his standard curse.

  “Fuck you,” Mercer snapped, taking a step toward Colt.

  That was it. Get angry, he silently willed his childhood friend. Mercer needed anger to replace the grief. God, or at least mute it. Just for a week. That was all Colt needed. Because if Mary Grace was alive, he was bringing her home to his best friend. He just couldn’t give Mercer the hope she was alive. Because if he did and it turned out she wasn’t… It would destroy him. “Mary. Grace.”

  Mercer rushed at him like a bull. But he was too slow. Colt smoothly sidestepped as Mercer flew past him.

  Colt swiveled to face his friend, hands on his hips. “Couple months ago I’d have never even been able to punch you. Now you can’t even tackle—”

  Mercer sprung like a wildcat, tackling Colt like the linebacker he’d been in college. Colt’s back slammed against the wood floor, jarring him to his bones. When Mercer punched him in the ribs, Colt twisted, slammed his elbow across the man’s face and slid out of his hold. His friend had played pro ball so he wasn’t worried he’d do much damage to Mercer. He needed more from the guy right now.

  He’d barely put a foot of distance between them when Mercer lunged again, looking like a wild animal as he attacked.

  “Stay back!” Colt shouted at Brooks when his friend made a move to step in, his boots thumping against the floor. Mercer needed to let out his aggression, needed to fight someone.

  He took the blows Mercer rained down on him. Though he knew Mercer was holding back. Colt wouldn’t be breathing otherwise. He was vaguely aware that they’d broken the banister at the bottom of the stairs and put at least two holes in the wall next to the living room entryway as they fought. Good. Fixing those things could be projects for Mercer. Anything to keep his hands busy while Colt was gone.

  When Mercer’s last blow barely grazed Colt’s side, he pulled him into a tight grip, more an awkward hug than anything.

  Mercer stilled and then put his arms around him in a harsh grip, his head on Colt’s shoulder as his giant body trembled with silent tears. “I don’t know how to live without her,” he rasped out.

  Colt’s throat tightened. “I know.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say he was going to get her back. But he couldn’t give Mercer that kind of hope if it turned out to be false. He simply couldn’t. “But you’ve got to. I’ve gotta go out of town for a week and Brooks is gonna stay here with you.”

  Mercer shoved back then. The scent of Jack Daniels wafted off him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Brooks stepped up to tower over them, his expression tight. “Good, because I’m not gonna be wiping your ass or cooking you dinner. And I’m not asking. I’m staying, so deal with it.” Gone was the relaxed cowboy, replaced by the stone-cold sniper he’d once been.

  Mercer watched them both for a long moment before shoving to his feet. “You two do whatever the hell you want. You always do,” he muttered before turning to stalk down the darkened hallway.

  Colt followed suit and stood as well. There were absolutely no lights on anywhere that he could see. Mercer’s home was a tomb, the once bright and cheery home gone. “This place is disgusting,” he said to Brooks. “Hire a company to clean it up. I’ll pay for it. And make sure he eats while I’m gone. Just…keep him alive.”

  “I’m not gonna off myself!” Mercer shouted from somewhere in the house.

  Colt wasn’t so sure. Mercer seemed one drink away from going all “Whiskey Lullaby” on them. Brooks agreed, if his concerned expression was any indication.

  Brooks tilted his head once toward the open front door. “I’ll walk you out,” he murmured. Once they were down the steps and headed to the driveway, he said, “You sure about this?”

  “No.” Because he wasn’t sure about anything. The only thing he knew was that there was a chance Mary Grace was alive. And he was damn sure going to get her back if he could. Colt might not be able to do anything about the woman he loved being gone, but he could try to bring Mary Grace back to Mercer.

  Brooks looked at the house. “We should tell him.”

  “No way. If my tip is wrong…” Colt shook his head, slid his sunglasses down over his eyes without finishing the thought. It really will kill him.

  Brooks scrubbed a hand over his face, nodded. “If you need backup—”

  “I’ll call.” Which he wouldn’t. This was for him to do. He couldn’t search for Mary Grace if he was worried about Mercer putting a bullet in his own damn head, so Brooks had to watch him. Plus Brooks had a softer touch than Colt.

  “We should let the others know too.”

  Colt knew who he meant, but he shook his head. “No. They’ve all got busy lives.”

  “They’d drop everything for this.”

  True enough. Growing up, there had been seven of them who’d been inseparable. All best friends, including Mary Grace. A couple of the guys hadn’t joined the crew until around eleven or twelve, but the seven of them, once they’d become friends, had become more like family. Everyone had come home to Redemption Harbor, South Carolina once she’d died. Gage, Leighton, Savage and Colt had all moved away but nothing could have kept them from coming home for that. Mercer had refused to have a funeral, said there was no point without a body. Because the truth was, the man couldn’t let go.

  “I know.” But he also knew he was going to break a shitload of laws in the next week. And he didn’t much care. To the outside world, he worked for a security firm—in the accounting department. In reality, he was a spy for the CIA who got the job done when necessary. But even his boss wouldn’t know what he was about to do. “It’ll be easier for me to travel alone. I’ll draw less attention this way. For the return trip, I might need your dad’s plane if—”

  “I’ve got t
he pilot on standby.”

  Thank God. “He might have to cross the border illegally.”

  Brooks gave him a wry smile. “I know.”

  Colt nodded once. There was nothing else to say. He was about to head into cartel territory in Mexico on a freaking tip. Luckily for him, the US government had spent a few million dollars training him to become invisible and invincible.

  Time to put all those years and that money to good use.

  * * *

  Mary Grace tensed as Arturo Ramirez’s bedroom door opened, but it was just his oldest son, David. Him, she could deal with. It was the youngest brother who was unstable.

  Even though she wanted to punch the man in the face, she pasted on her neutral doctor smile as she stood from her recliner next to the bed where the aging, dying drug lord lay asleep. And as long as he was alive, she was too. “He’s just dozed off.”

  “Is he in pain?” David asked, his expression one of real concern. The man truly loved his father—unlike his brother Rafael, who hated Arturo.

  “Not right now, no.” Even though she hated the family that had kidnapped her, and hated being here, she was still a doctor first. And Arturo was her patient for as long as he was alive. And she wanted to make sure he stayed that way because he was necessary for her survival. Which, unfortunately for her, wasn’t going to be much longer. She needed to find a way to escape before Arturo died or she was dead for certain.