Chapter 7
A lifetime spent in the military had imprinted several habits on Morgan Kendall. He’d only been a civilian for just under a month, so he wouldn’t have expected any of those habits to have faded already.
One of the most irritating habits was awakening at an ungodly hour, every single morning. He turned his head to look at the bedside clock. 4:48 a.m. He hadn’t slept past five in the morning in years. Hell, he wasn’t just up with the chickens, he was up with the fucking worms.
A soft huff of air against his shoulder drew his gaze, and his attention, to his right. Beside him and snuggled in close, Tamara slept deeply. His mouth relaxed into a smile as he simply watched her. Hell of a thing.
Morgan had just learned that a person could be aware of familial traits and family history his entire life and still be pole-axed when what he’d assumed would someday happen to him actually happened.
His fathers had fallen in love with his mother at first sight. He’d asked each of them once how they knew it was love they’d felt and not just lust. Those brothers Kendall had each said almost the exact same thing—that there’d been a sense of connection the moment they’d laid eyes on the red-haired, green-eyed Samantha Kincaid. As if, they’d gone on to say, they’d known her all their lives and had been waiting for her, and waiting for the privilege of taking care of her.
As a sixteen-year-old know-it-all, Morgan figured his dads had just handed him a line of pure bullshit.
As a thirty-five-year-old man who’d met his future wife just yesterday, he finally got it.
It didn’t matter that he and Henry had decided to get their business up and running and then begin to think about a mate, or that they’d figured that the latter half of their life plan wouldn’t be happening for another couple of years yet.
Yesterday Tamara Jones had fallen out of the sky—thank you very much, Kate Benedict—and today both he and his brother knew what their future would be.
Tamara frowned in her sleep, reminding him of how fierce and stubborn she could be when riled. He’d certainly seen signs of that yesterday. So Morgan mentally tacked a “we hope” on to the end of that last mental assertion. He wondered how long it would take them to convince Tamara Jones that she belonged with them.
Morgan sensed he was being watched. Looking over to the far side of the bed, he met Henry’s gaze. Henry glanced toward the bedroom door, then back at him. Morgan nodded in understanding. They both got out of the bed carefully, each tucking the blanket close around their woman so she’d stay asleep for awhile yet.
Morgan had been serious last night when he told Tamara she’d had a hell of a day yesterday. He knew at the time she hadn’t understood that he and Henry both intended to see she rested well. That resolve hadn’t changed. She needed her sleep now. They each snagged the pants they’d dropped on the floor the night before and then left the bedroom. Making their way downstairs in the dark, they both moved silently.
Morgan had been trained to move with stealth and make his way anywhere, anytime, undetected. Henry, he knew, came by the talent naturally.
“She was wiped last night,” Henry said quietly once they’d entered the kitchen.
“Can’t blame her. I had to dead stick a Cessna once. Sure as hell took the starch out of me for a good long while.”
Henry grinned. “I’ve never had that experience. The planes I flew didn’t offer that option, to be perfectly honest. If those aircraft fucked up, the pilot’s only choice was to punch out. End of story.”
“That’s even worse,” Morgan said. He set about brewing a pot of coffee. Outside the window, the deep black of night began to lighten to a pearl gray. Soon that gray would give way to a beautiful Texas dawn.
“What time is Jordan meeting us at the site this morning?”
“Nine. He was going to head on over to the IHOP over by the Interstate and meet with that guy Adam told us about at dinner last night,” Morgan said.
“Since our brother the sheriff has already checked the man out, I say, hire him.”
“It may or may not be that simple,” Morgan said. When Henry raised one eyebrow, he explained, “Adam told me the man checked out, but he got some vibes from him that he couldn’t completely explain.”
“Well, Jordan will figure it out. He’s got pretty good people sense, too.”
They were dancing around the most important subject, and Morgan knew it.
“It’s probably my fault,” Henry said at last. “Mother always said one day I’d pay for having everything so easy all my life.”
Morgan grinned. “So she did.” Then he frowned. “I wasn’t ready for her, either, that’s for damn sure. But that doesn’t make a difference. She’s ours.”
“That’s how I feel, too. I kind of like her prickly side.”
Morgan chuckled. “Me, too.” Then he sobered. “I’ll tell you one thing that’s been bothering me, though.”
“The fact that this Mr. John Smith from outside of Abilene allowed Tamara to take off in that plane without giving her any paperwork at all, not even a bill of sale,” Henry said.
“Exactly.” It didn’t surprise him that he and his favorite brother were on the same page. “She said her uncle and Smith were old friends, so maybe it’s all fine, and the man is sending the papers on to her uncle at a later date,” Morgan said.
“And maybe we should ask Adam to run the registration on the Piper, just in case,” Henry finished.
“It certainly couldn’t hurt. I’m going to be pissed if it turns out either her uncle or that Smith character took advantage of Tamara’s trusting nature.”
“That makes two of us. I’ll find a moment to give Adam a call when we get to the site,” Henry said. “No need to let her know what we’re doing. She’d only
