Worth the Risk (COBRA Securities Book 21)
Worth the Risk
Velvet Vaughn
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 VELVET VAUGHN LLC
ISBN: 978-1-7357807-4-0
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Visit Velvet’s website at: www.velvetvaughn.com and her Facebook Fanpage HERE.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to one of my dearest friends, Susie. Even when I wasn’t the best at keeping in touch over the years, you never gave up on me. I’m so thankful for you, and I treasure your friendship.
Acknowledgments
A writer is nothing without readers. I want to sincerely thank all of you who purchase my books. You are the reason I do this, and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you. A special thanks to those who reach out to me—I love hearing from you.
I would also like to thank my original Street Team members and those of you who leave reviews on Amazon, Goodreads and other platforms. They are so crucial to a writer, and I appreciate you taking the time to do so for my books.
I would be overwhelmed without my social media guru, Kristy. Thank you so much! And as always, a huge thank you to my mom. I couldn’t do this without you!
Table of Contents
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Notes
About the Author
Prologue
Vanessa Lacroix never dreamed she’d grow up to be a criminal. Her ambition from the time she could talk was to take care of animals. A military brat, she’d moved frequently with her family throughout her childhood. It was hard for her to make friends, only to leave them when they inevitably uprooted again. She didn’t have brothers or sisters, but her parents always made sure she had pets. Her animals were her companions and confidants.
She realized her goal years later, graduating at the top of her class with a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree. She even opened a clinic. Yet, here she was, wearing all black and prowling around in the dark like the feral cats she treated, firmly on the wrong side of the law. Her parents would be so proud.
Despite the danger and potential jail time if she was caught, she didn’t regret one single thing she’d stolen. She didn’t go for diamonds or jewels or priceless works of art. Her area of expertise was confiscating abused, mistreated pets from their cruel, negligent owners. She liberated them from their prisons and whisked them away to a better life. She fancied herself a modern-day Robin Hood for canines. Robin Hound. She chuckled at her play on words.
Not everyone was on board with her antics. Her assistant Todd Morris repeatedly warned her against partaking in what he called dangerous escapades, despite the fact that he’d devoted his life to animals, too. Even her father was against her compassionate efforts. Her mother passed away before Vanessa embarked on her rescue missions four years ago, but she had no doubt her mom would’ve donned her black turtleneck and pants and snuck around in the dark right alongside her. She loved dogs as much as Vanessa and would’ve felt the helpless, abused pets were one hundred percent worth the risk.
She crouched in the bushes, her heart pounding like a drum as the porch light on the house she was surveilling snapped on, and a screen door creaked open. She ducked lower when a brute in a stained white tank top and boxer shorts appeared. Her jaw clenched when he tossed a tiny brown chihuahua into the yard, impervious to the dog’s cry of surprise or pain. He ripped a cigarette from his mouth and shouted for the dog to hurry and do its business—though he’d used much cruder terms.
Vanessa’s blood boiled. The poor animal trembled in fear, cowering each time the disgusting man bellowed at her. Vanessa waited for him to lumber back inside the house before making her move. Approaching unhurriedly, she crouched low so as not to intimidate the dog and held out her hand. “Here, sweet puppy, come here, girl.”
The dog’s head whipped around at her whispered call, and she scrambled back. Vanessa wiggled the treat she’d brought with her. Interested but wary, the chihuahua slowly approached, her nose twitching.
“Good girl. I won’t hurt you. I promise. You can trust me.”
As if understanding her words, the dog’s curly tail wagged. She inched forward slowly, sniffing the air. Vanessa waited until she was close enough before she grabbed her, wincing at the startled yelp. She murmured comforting words as she calmed the dog with the tasty treat. The chihuahua nibbled it hungrily.
After checking to make sure the coast was clear, she stood with her bounty and hurried down the sidewalk towards her SUV. She skidded to an abrupt stop before she plowed over an older woman wearing a blue tracksuit with red stripes and tennis shoes, reminding Vanessa of an octogenarian Sue Sylvester from Glee, short blond hair and all. The woman pinned her with a narrowed gaze, much like the one Sue bestowed on the terrified students of McKinley High. Vanessa’s heart began to thump again. She’d almost made it to safety. Instead, she was about to be busted for her crime. Orange was so not her color.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sue nodded with satisfaction. “Wanted to do that myself for weeks. Take good care of the pup.”
Vanessa watched in stunned silence as the woman tottered away, her cane clicking stridently on the concrete sidewalk. She wondered if Sue was the one who sent the note about the abused dog. Vanessa operated an anonymous message board asking for information on mistreated animals on her Facebook page. She’d garnered several hits over the years, hence her clandestine alter-ego and life of delinquency.
Not about to question her good fortune, she took off again, tucking the dog closer to her chest. A door slammed, and then a loud, angry voice yelled for Stinky to get her ass back to the house.
“Really? They named you Stinky? That’s verbal abuse. I’m going to call you Sweetie.” Shaking her head, she scratched the former Stinky on the back and rounded the corner. She’d parked close enough to make a quick getaway, but far enough away so the owners wouldn’t spot her vehicle. Popping the latch on her key fob, she barely waited for the back hatch to automatically lift before she placed the chihuahua inside the crate and closed the door. She needed to make tracks before the man came looking for his missing pet.
Once she was safely inside her Jeep, she started the engine. She couldn’t resist driving by the house. She expected to see the man standing outside with his hands
on his hips, looking frustrated and furious. Instead, he was nowhere in sight. The door to the house was closed, and the porch light off. He didn’t even bother to look for the dog. Irrefutable proof she’d done the right thing.
Her missions didn’t always go so smoothly. She’d been shot at, threatened, and even had one scared Beagle bite her. But she’d survived. And best of all, she’d never been fingered as the dognapper. She figured the owners didn’t want to notify the authorities for fear of being charged with a crime themselves for animal neglect.
She’d scan Sweetie for a chip and check her health before booking her passage on the underground puppy railroad. In other words, her friend Derek Newman’s no-kill shelter. Vanessa was just the first step of the journey. Derek had contacts all over who moved the dogs and found them the perfect forever home. He never questioned where the dogs came from, and she never volunteered the information. It was an ideal arrangement.
Robin Hound strikes again.
Chapter One
Quinn Billings watched from the upper deck as his highly skilled trainers put the new class through their paces. Of the four Belgian Malinois pups, odds were at least one wouldn’t complete the rigorous qualifications necessary to become a working dog. Those that didn’t pass muster were adopted out as family pets. He kept a waiting list a mile long of people wanting one for themselves—almost as long as the list of companies and organizations requesting one of his trained dogs. Malinois, as a breed, were highly intelligent, hardworking and confident animals. They were also friendly, people-oriented and fiercely protective of their owners. They made the perfect military and police dogs and pets.
Reaching down, he scratched his dog behind the ears. Though Kilo had the talent to become an outstanding working canine and had excelled in several areas, Quinn bonded with him from the first time he held the tiny ball of fur in his arms. He’d looked into chocolate brown eyes and knew he couldn’t give him up, so he claimed him as his own.
Kilo loved to train, and Quinn kept him active, regularly putting him through his paces and fine-tuning his abilities. He wanted Kilo sharp in the event that one of the COBRA Securities agents requested a dog for a mission. Kilo also liked to watch the other pups as they learned new skills. He was the king of the facility, and he knew it.
When the dogs passed the requirements and were ready to be sent to the law enforcement or private agency that requested them, one of the trainers accompanied the animal to their destination. It was essential to establish a bond between the new handler and the dog. His people spent a minimum of a week teaching the owner how to interact with and control the dogs with commands and sometimes hand gestures. They also ensured the dog acclimated to its new surroundings and that the transition was a smooth one.
Quinn’s phone beeped a text. Lifting it from his pocket, he swiped the screen and read the message from his sister Hillary.
What do you think of Abbie Steele? You know, a play on Reed’s famous moniker?
He chuckled as a huge grin split his face. His baby sister was expecting a baby of her own. He was going to be an uncle.
It’d been just the two of them for a long time. He’d raised Hillary after their father’s unexpected death in a military training accident. Their mother passed away when they were young. He couldn’t be happier for Hillary and her husband Reed, whom he loved like a brother.
Hillary was critically injured on a job not long ago. He’d been out of the country on a military assignment at the time, and he’d been terrified he wouldn’t make it to the hospital before she died. He wasn’t sure he could lose the last member of his family and survive. Thankfully, her fighting spirit kicked in, and she’d pulled through. After weeks of recovery and rehab, she was back to full speed. She’d met the love of her life on a case a few months ago, and now she was expecting her first child.
Reed Steele was a former Major League baseball player and current television star hosting a wildly popular home renovation program. When he fell in love with Hillary, he uprooted his life to be with her. His show was now produced by TKO Productions, the company owned by Taylor Costa, Kendall Demarchis and Olivia Mylonas, wives of COBRA Securities agents Dante Costa, Dorian Demarchis and Alex Mylonas.
Besides belting a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth inning to win the World Series and subsequently the Most Valuable Player award, his brother-in-law was famous for a shirtless poster that showcased his eight-pack. His rabid fans had labeled him Reed “Abs of” Steele, hence Hillary’s attempt at humor in naming their daughter Abbie…assuming it was a girl. It was too early to find out the sex of the baby. He typed out a quick reply.
What if it’s a boy? Abercrombie Steele?
He hit send and slipped his phone back into his pocket. As ecstatic as he was for his sister and brother-in-law, their happiness made him realize he wasn’t, at least in his personal life. He loved his job. He looked forward to going to work each day and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. With Reed’s assistance, he’d designed his training facility to his exact specifications with every option he wanted and some he’d never thought of before Reed’s suggestions. But his enthusiasm had been dampened a few weeks ago when a band of ruthless mercenaries infiltrated the complex. It was entirely his fault they’d gained entry. He’d hired the man who’d opened the gates and let them march right inside.
Gabe Kline came with glowing recommendations, and nothing in his background suggested he’d go Benedict Arnold on them, but he had, and in doing so, he’d put the lives of all the agents and their families in jeopardy. The guilt ate at him. Everyone assured him it wasn’t his fault. He wanted to believe them, but the truth was if he hadn’t hired Kline, the attempted coup would’ve failed relatively easily.
The terrorists destroyed buildings and caused mayhem, but the worst part of the harrowing ordeal had been the innocent lives that were lost. Almost the entire airport staff had been inside the hangar when the criminals dropped bombs and destroyed it. Some of their crew also perished when they tried to breach the perimeter. The only plus of the entire debacle was heightened, tightened security. The compound was now as secure as Fort Knox—maybe more so.
While Hillary was expanding her family, Quinn was no closer to even starting one. His current relationship with Traci Pearson was stagnant. He liked and respected her, but he didn’t love her and never would. Going out with her had once been enjoyable, but now it was a chore. She subtly pressed him to propose, leaving hints around her apartment in the form of wedding dress magazines and ring brochures. She even tried to talk to him about their future the other night after sex. He’d taken the chicken’s way out and feigned sleep.
He needed to break it off. It wasn’t fair to her when he knew he’d never ask her to marry him. With that thought in mind, he always used his condoms, despite Traci insisting she owned an ample supply. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but maybe he didn’t. Faith in his judgment took a major hit after Kline. It was hard to get it back.
Despite dating for weeks, Traci had never been to his house, located next to Hillary and Reed’s inside the COBRA Securities complex. Hillary purchased both plots of land after she started working for the company, hoping to convince him to sign on when his stint in the military was up. He did, but not in the way she’d expected. He’d worked out an agreement with Luke Colton and Logan Bradley, the founders of COBRA Securities, to establish a dog training facility on site.
He didn’t build his house right away, and he was glad he waited. Reed designed it with Quinn’s wants and preferences in mind. He’d only moved in a couple of weeks ago. It would be a while before he took a risk and brought in an outsider.
The tricky part about breaking up with Traci was that she was the veterinarian he used for the dogs. He should’ve known better than to become involved with her, realizing that when it inevitably ended, it’d cause problems. Taking the dogs to her now would be awkward and uncomfortable. He could always send one of his employees instead. Morgana, Sabrina, Justin or Riley could
handle the task, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid her forever.
With business booming, he’d considered hiring a vet to work on site. It’d become a hassle to load the dogs in vehicles and transport them, not to mention the time it took to travel to Traci’s practice across town. Not only would the hire benefit him, but most of his agents and their families owned pets. Having a vet inside the compound would be convenient for them, too. He’d always planned on eventually employing one, so his building included a wing to be used for a clinic. The rooms were sitting empty, just waiting to be filled.
Quinn hadn’t pulled the trigger yet because he knew his relationship with Traci wasn’t long-term, and if he hired her, he’d have to interact with her daily. She was good at her job and loved the animals, but he didn’t love her.
If he was honest with himself, he knew the real reason was that he still questioned his judgment. What if the person turned out to be another traitor? Traci had never exhibited signs of deceit, but he’d have said the same thing about Kline at one time, too.
He glanced down at Kilo. Though he generally fell in love with all the dogs, Kilo was special. They’d become best buds. He was from the same litter as Kota, the dog Quinn trained and gifted to Hillary. Now, brother and sister owned brother dogs.
Most military and police dogs learned with German commands. Though language wasn’t as important as the bond with their handler, he trained Kota and Kilo with mostly English instructions and only a few German ones.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, he remembered he had a date with Traci tonight. It was time to break it off. He’d almost waited too long. It pained him that she expected more from him than he could give. He didn’t regret the time spent with her, but he bet she wouldn’t feel the same way after he ended the relationship. He planned on taking Kilo with him. She might want to do him bodily harm, but she wouldn’t with Kilo around, knowing the Belgian Malinois would protect Quinn with his life.