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  “Exactly,” Grace said, touching Roman gently on his arm. “Freihof wants all our attention to be on him, not on living our lives. Let’s not give him that satisfaction.”

  With that she gave him one more smile and made her way back to her date, who politely stood and held out her chair as she sat down, smiling brightly at her as he did so. Roman already liked this guy.

  Grace was right. This was a wedding, and it was already midway through the reception. Armed guards stood outside every door. The entire site had been swept extensively for explosives. Trouble in the form of Damien Freihof wasn’t making its way in here tonight.

  Plus, as Grace had pointed out, they weren’t here to focus on the criminal mastermind, they were here to celebrate Brandon and Andrea, two of their own.

  Roman didn’t know either of them well, but what he did know he liked and respected.

  Brandon Han was generally regarded as one of the most intelligent men in the entire country, and his family was an important part of the state government, so this wedding was a grand event. An interesting blend of watchful law enforcement, merry partygoers and political personages networking in a neutral, friendly setting.

  The last, Roman knew, included his mother and stepfather. He had no doubt his mom was searching for him, to encourage him to network likewise.

  She still hadn’t quite embraced the concept that Roman had chosen law enforcement as his means of contributing to society, rather than politics, like his late father.

  Roman got a beer from the bar and headed back to the shadows, although this time to avoid trouble rather than search for it.

  He wasn’t alone for long.

  “You’ve got that ‘oh hell, it’s another wedding’ look on your face.”

  Roman glanced at the man who had made his way to his side. Damn it, what was his name? Sam Poniard or something. The guy wanted to be SWAT, but for whatever reason hadn’t been accepted into the training program.

  He shouldn’t take it personally. Most people who applied didn’t get accepted.

  “No kidding.” Roman gave a smile to the other man. “Seems like agents around here are falling like flies. You’re Sam, right?”

  “Saul.”

  “Saul, that’s right. Saul Poniard. Sorry, man. I blame the coma.”

  Roman could tell he’d offended Saul, but the other man still gave a slight smile. “I guess almost getting blown up is certain to affect your memory.”

  Roman doubted he would’ve remembered the other guy’s name anyway, but didn’t say so. He would be sure to remember it now.

  “How’s it going for you? Enjoying the party?”

  Saul nodded. “Yeah. Not usually my thing, but I thought I would stop in and say hello. Thought it might get me some points.”

  “Points for what?”

  “I’m thinking about reapplying for SWAT.”

  Roman grimaced. That’s why Saul was over here talking to him. He was campaigning. Of course, Roman had zero to do with who got initially accepted into the training program. The leaders might ask the team’s opinion before bringing someone on in the final stages, to make sure he or she was a good fit, but not at the beginning.

  “Well, good luck with that.” Saul appeared fit and strong enough to be in the program. But for whatever reason, he was being overlooked. Roman trusted the people making those choices, Steve Drackett being one of them.

  “Maybe we could work out sometime. Spar or something.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure, no problem.” At least Poniard wasn’t asking for a letter of reference or anything. “Hopefully, I’ll be cleared for active duty next week. But I’d be happy to do some lighter stuff with you until then.”

  “That would be awesome. Thanks. Are you hanging back in the shadows looking for Freihof? I’ve been doing the same thing.”

  Maybe Poniard would make a better SWAT member than leadership was giving him credit for.

  “Yeah. I have to admit I am. Although Steve Drackett was over here a minute ago reminding me that it’s okay to relax. That there are other people on guard here.”

  And Steve and Grace both were right. Roman needed to not let Freihof steal any more of his life. His eyes flew back to Keira, who’d made her way onto the dance floor with the bride and the groom’s sisters.

  Keira was a much better place to center his attention, rather than searching for an enemy who wasn’t here, or avoiding family who wanted what he didn’t.

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Saul said. “But I understand. SWAT has to be diligent.”

  Roman clapped the other man on the shoulder and gave him a smile. “How about if you help us be diligent tonight? Just keep an eye out.”

  Saul nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, will do.”

  Roman excused himself. His mother was moving in his general direction and he had to make sure she didn’t catch him. He didn’t want a scene tonight.

  Roman smiled and took another sip of his beer as he moved away. He loved his mother, even though Maureen Weber Donovan tended to be a little conceited. He knew she loved him and fiercely guarded the family name. She’d remarried after Roman’s father, a member of the Colorado General Assembly, had died fifteen years ago, and had never stopped encouraging her children to continue their father’s political legacy.

  Whether they’d wanted to or not.

  Not that Roman wasn’t ever going into politics. He just wanted to do it on his own terms, not on his mother’s. He wanted to make a difference in the system, and his time at Omega Sector continued to help him understand where the system worked and where it needed fixing.

  Roman rubbed a hand over his face and sat down at a table that had been vacated by people out on the dance floor, still glancing around the shadows, looking for danger. A couple months ago he would’ve been out on the floor with them. Could’ve kept a watchful eye out while having fun at the same time. He was known as the jokester on the SWAT team. The one with a witty comeback and always ready for a good time, taking nothing too seriously.

  Or had been.

  He wasn’t trying to go back to that persona. He’d been changed at some very basic level by his near-death experience and would never be that same person again.

  And although he had no desire to talk politics tonight at his friend’s wedding, he could see that perhaps he might be moving in that direction sooner rather than later. Not because he was afraid of death or wanted to get out of the SWAT team, but because now more than ever he realized how short life really was.

  Maybe it was just time for him to grow up. Maybe all these changes would’ve come about regardless. All Roman knew was that he couldn’t go back to who he’d been before he’d almost died. Didn’t want to go back to who he was formerly.

  But before he could move forward with his life, they were going to have to catch Damien Freihof. Although Roman had to make peace that it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  Keira had taken herself back off the dance floor and was standing over in the shadows at the side of the room. Roman stood. He was finished staying away from her.

  Finished letting Damien Freihof determine every decision he made.

  At least for now.

  Chapter Two

  “How do I know the bride? Oh, we used to be strippers together back in the day.”

  Keira hadn’t actually used that statement as the answer to the question she’d been asked a few times, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.

  But Andrea, the bride and one of Keira’s closest friends, hadn’t disclosed her previous line of work, so Keira wouldn’t, either.

  Although Keira didn’t care who knew she was once an exotic dancer. She wasn’t ashamed of it. She had clawed her way out of a hell most people would never even conceive, and she wouldn’t apologize for how she’d survived. Dancing had been part of that.

  But if the bride wanted to
keep her past private, that was certainly her prerogative. Keira wouldn’t reveal the information, either.

  “Hey there, beautiful. You doing okay?”

  The bride had somehow sneaked up on Keira right as she’d been thinking about her. Their arms wrapped around each other.

  “Yes! What are you doing over here with me? Brandon’s going to be looking for you.”

  Andrea smiled, her straight blond hair in stark contrast to Keira’s riotous dark curls. “He’s watching me, I can feel it. I’m not sure where he is exactly, but I can guarantee he knows where I am.”

  Keira laughed. “If he wasn’t so crazy in love with you, that would be sort of stalkerish. But I know what you mean.”

  Andrea’s smile, as always, was soft and sweet. She was never going to be someone who wanted to draw attention to herself if she had other options. That had been true even back in their dancing days. Keira still didn’t know how Andrea had managed to survive it.

  Except that Andrea was a survivor.

  Ultimately, that had drawn Keira and Andrea together, the two of them so opposite in personality, looks and temperament. Survivor had recognized survivor.

  “I love you, Andrea.” Keira brought her friend in for another hug. “And I’m so excited for you here on your beautiful day, and for the stalker standing over there with some friends, looking at you with adoration in his eyes.”

  “Do you really think this turned out okay?” Doubt tinged Andrea’s voice. “This wedding was so much bigger than I wanted. This reception so elaborate. It’s just that Brandon’s family is involved with politics and business. They wanted to do the whole big thing.”

  “It’s perfect. The wedding was beautiful, everyone is having a good time at the reception and you’re handling it all like a champ.”

  Andrea didn’t have her own family—her parents had died when she was young, and the people who’d raised her afterwards had made her home life so bad that she’d run away as a teen rather than stay there—but Keira had to admit the Hans had embraced her with such open arms that she could hardly claim no family anymore. They loved their son and loved their new daughter-in-law.

  Proof was in Brandon’s sisters making their way over to Andrea a few minutes later and pulling her out on the dance floor.

  As they went, a man—the very epitome of tall, dark and handsome—caught Keira’s attention from across the room, over near the terrace doors. He was studying her in a way that made her insides begin a slow burn. Keira knew he was an Omega agent, had seen him around at a couple events in the last few months, but didn’t know his name. Had been afraid to ask in case she couldn’t stop herself from pouncing on him.

  Her attention was yanked back by Andrea. “Come join us!” the bride said over her shoulder, a new sister attached to each arm as they crossed to the dance floor.

  “In a few.” Keira laughed and waved. She looked over again, but tall, dark and handsome seemed to have moved back into the shadows.

  She shrugged, surprised by how disappointed she was to lose that moment with him. She didn’t tend to be so romantic as allowing herself to feel heat from just a glance.

  Didn’t tend to be romantic at all.

  But Keira didn’t head to the dance floor. Most people had brought a date to dance with. Keira deliberately had not because, as one of the bridesmaids, she wanted to be able to concentrate on Andrea and anything she needed. But mostly because she just didn’t date much.

  Keira looked around at the large crowd. There seemed to be two types of people populating the wedding. Omega Sector agents, all half mingling, half watching the door for any sign of that maniac who had almost killed both Andrea and Brandon last year. They were intelligent, they were armed and they were ready.

  And they weren’t even the most dangerous people in the room. That was the other part of the crowd.

  The wealthy. The privileged. The elite.

  Those people scared Keira much more than someone with a gun did.

  They shook hands and slapped backs, then stuck proverbial knives in those very same backs as soon as it served their best interests. The room was filled with men and women who aspired to be congressmen, governors, maybe even more. Those who desired to start, run and sell multimillion dollar corporations.

  And they had the power—or the family with power—to back up those goals.

  She knew these types of people, knew what they could do to someone. Had been married to a member of a family like the ones here. One who had powerful political aspirations.

  Six years ago, she had fled this state a broken person. Not much more than a child. She had bought her freedom from the upper echelon with her own blood, always afraid the man who’d broken her would wield his wealth and power to find her again.

  His family wasn’t here tonight; Keira had made sure that would be the case long before this day came. She’d asked Brandon, not Andrea, if the Cunningham family of Denver would be attending the wedding. Brandon hadn’t thought so and had double-checked, since his parents—who were paying for the wedding—were inviting some business and political associates he didn’t know well. He was soon able to assure her there would be no Cunninghams in attendance.

  Keira had expected Brandon to press for details, but he hadn’t. Just gave her that look that said he’d probably already figured out 90 percent of the situation in that huge brain of his, and moved on to other questions, about wedding bands and cake flavors.

  Keira had been relieved she wouldn’t have to miss one of her closest friends’ weddings. But she would have to avoid Jonathan Cunningham and his family.

  There weren’t many things Keira was afraid of in this world. But a family willing to use its wealth and power to hide the hideous sins of its son?

  Let’s just say she was never getting involved with anyone from a wealthy and powerful family again.

  Not that she had much interest in attaching herself to anyone on a permanent basis. When the bouquet was tossed in a little bit, Keira would definitely not be part of the group trying to catch it. She’d already lived through her own hell of a marriage once. That was plenty for one lifetime.

  Andrea waved to her from the dance floor and Keira made her way out there. No more boo-hooing over the past. Keira had survived. She would always survive.

  Breathe in, breathe out, move on.

  Keira joined the group out on the floor, jumping and waving their hands over their heads to an upbeat song. Andrea was positively glowing. Keira was so glad her friend had found her knight in shining armor.

  Keira didn’t need one. She preferred to fight her own battles and had now finally gotten herself situated to help others who needed assistance.

  Help people like the scared, broken girl she’d once been.

  After a few more dances, things began to wind down. The speeches were given, the cake cut, the music became slower. She noticed some women sliding their high heels off to give their feet a rest. Keira didn’t need to, one of the perks of her ex-occupation.

  She grinned to herself from the edge of the ballroom, where she stood in the shadows. Her three-inch heels were nothing compared to most of the shoes she’d danced in at the club. Plus they made her seem not quite so pitifully short.

  “I have to admit, you look like someone very pleased with herself.”

  The deep voice startled her and she glanced to her side.

  Wow. Tall, dark and handsome had decided to join her in the shadows.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.” His smile was so charming she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I just didn’t think anyone was hiding here but me. At least on this side of the room.”

  “Are you hiding?”

  Keira shrugged a shoulder exposed by her strapless dress. “Only because I’m afraid Andrea’s going to throw the bouquet in a minute.”

  He chuckled. “You gatherin
g your strength to wipe out the competition?”

  Keira raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Look at them.” She waved her arm toward some of the single women at the tables in the middle of the room. “I don’t need to gather my strength to take them out.”

  “I stand corrected.” He laughed softly again, the sound doing things to Keira’s insides she hadn’t felt in a long while.

  “But no, I’m over here because I don’t want anyone to notice when I don’t join in the tradition of tackling poor, defenseless flowers.”

  “I thought all single women wanted to catch the bouquet.”

  She turned completely toward him so she could give him the full weight of her opinion of that asinine statement.

  But instead just got caught up in the ridiculous blue of his eyes, coupled with his brown hair. She literally felt her breath catch at the spark between them.

  So much for not being romantic.

  He felt it, too. She could tell by the way he eased closer. “I stand corrected again. Not every woman wants to make a flying tackle for the bouquet. I’m Roman Weber. I work with Brandon and Andrea at Omega.”

  “Nice to meet you, Roman Weber. I’m Keira Spencer, old friend of the bride.”

  “I’ve seen you around.”

  Yeah, she’d seen him, too, since she’d moved to Colorado Springs six months ago. But she’d never had a chance to talk to him before now. Or really, Keira hadn’t pushed it. Had deliberately not let herself be pulled in by the instant attraction between the two of them.

  With him standing beside her, she couldn’t help but be pulled in by it now.

  “Dance with me?” He tilted his head down near her ear and whispered the words softly. The music was slow. Sultry even. Definitely not helping her resist this attraction pooling in her.

  “I’m trying to stay out of the lights on the dance floor, remember?” But she knew if he led her out there she would definitely not resist.

  She felt his arm slide low around her waist. “Not out there,” he whispered. “Right here.”

  He pulled her into him and began to gently sway with the music. His other hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, keeping their fingers entwined.