Compromised Vows

By Nadine Dandorf

Adrian Reilly has the life he's always wanted: a beautiful wife whose strength and tenacity match his own, and new friends that have become family, but retirement from Army Special Forces and a life lived in shadows is not all it's cracked up to be after a life of hunting evil men.

Embedded in Seamus Finnegan's illegal arms trade, CIA operator Andrea Williams has posed as Finnegan's business partner, wife, and mother of his child while covertly feeding Headquarters with unprecedented information. Her methodical and patient expertise has thwarted sales to those hostiles to the U.S., disrupted political rebellions, and saved countless lives in Europe and Asia until unexpected forces threaten to expose her and destroy all she has done.

Buried memories and broken promises threaten Reilly's marriage and friendships as he's pulled back into the clandestine world of misdirection and secret agendas. To find the truth behind what Andrea was bringing the CIA and what Seamus Finnegan is planning, Reilly compromises not only the vows he's made and the safety of those he loves, but the safety of the child that binds them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9780999650516

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sunday, September 1, 11:30 am

Potomac, Maryland

Adrian Reilly’s shots at the metal target trees twenty-five yards downrange rang true and precise like the elite soldier he was – as in past, former, retired – and ultimately pointless like the reason for being at the crappy pistol range. What had started as general irritability had morphed into smoldering anger that even the solace normally found at the range wouldn’t shake loose.

You made a promise.

One I’d make again, he said to himself.

Then why so miserable?

Lying to himself was also pointless. I miss the hunt. Putting the bad guys away.

McNeal’s choice, not yours. Fuck his texts and that voicemail asking for help. He should’ve helped you when you asked.

He thumbed the release on the FNX-45 Tactical pistol, slapped another magazine in place, then racked the slide. His right shoulder rounded with his rising arm, his left hand cupped the pistol, and his feet shifted to the proper stance all in the instant it took to focus and exhale. He lined up the iron sites and squeezed the trigger. Fifteen shots rang like arcade bells at a summer carnival.

He yanked off his ear protection and let it drop to the firing bench. After blowing through almost one hundred rounds, he didn’t feel any better. The only other shooter, today or any other day, watched and nodded from the port at the opposite end of the line. Reilly had watched the old guy, too, and was similarly impressed with his knowledge around the weapons he had brought. They never spoke, but the man tipped the brim of his baseball cap, packed up, and left.

Reilly reloaded, aimed, and squeezed off several rounds before the snap of the old man’s motorcycle clashed with the clang of ordnance to jolt him back to the day his life changed course with a hard left into a dense, Russian forest.

He paused and slightly lowered the weapon on an exhale. The hammer-forged, stainless steel version of his missing FNP-45 was born, bred, and precisely engineered for battle. Like him, it was designed to withstand the worst conditions. Conditions he hadn’t seen in over a year because of a promise made to the woman who changed his life, who was abandoned by the country they both vowed to protect.

His chest tightened remembering the day he found himself prey, not hunter, and the two riders who forced him and his motorcycle deep into that dark foreign forest. He squeezed the gun in his hand like he’d gripped the handlebars and heard only the roar of three bikes and shots being fired. His core tightened on the fear that belonged to the woman who was with him. A woman he had vowed to protect. His missing weapon was somewhere in that forest, sacrificed because his wife not only knew that it was strapped inside his boot, but how to handle it to save them both.

His wife.

Daniella St. Sauveur Tyler wasn’t even a lover then, nor his prime focus. Clearing his name for a forced retirement from Special Forces and bringing a traitor to justice was. He accomplished both because of her grit and a determination that rivaled a soldier twice her height and weight. Including the arrogant one she married.

She was the key to all he had been looking for, professionally first, then personally when their mutual attraction could no longer be denied. She was a force of nature and a true partner in every way. Together, they discovered a mole within the CIA, destroyed his plans, and put all the bad guys in jail.

Reilly returned his focus to the targets downfield. He’d spent a lifetime hunting for his country, making the world safer. Dani did, too, by helping him with things only she had access to. They were a team until CIA Associate Deputy Director Shaun McNeal abandoned them both. Only with help from Robert Callahan, a man from Dani’s past, were they able to permanently clear her name. Cal was now his best friend and brother in every way but blood.

His life now and would forever be about protecting her. He was done hunting madmen.

That was his promise.

Fuck McNeal.

He stretched his neck as if it could release the need he’d been desperately hiding from Dani and Cal. It wasn’t fair to either of them after all they’d been through and sacrificed. The spent shells and empty cardboard boxes at his feet were precision weaponry used and no longer necessary. A uselessness he understood and whether McNeal knew it or not, the texts last week and message this week – we need to talk – stoked his innate lifelong need to hunt.

I said I was done.

He growled then sighted a silhouette and directed his self-loathing downfield for another hour until his ammunition was spent and his soul was empty.

Done?

Reilly spun toward the deep, condescending voice. Cal was leaning against a support post, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his work boots crossed at the ankles.

Reilly laid the gun on the firing bench and inserted a safety flag. I guess. He breathed through a mix of indignance and alarm at being caught off-guard. He hadn’t heard the unmistakable rumble of Cal’s silver Camaro come into the parking lot or felt someone approach from behind. His intuition was slipping and while the target paper attested to his expert aim, everything else ached from lack of use. Each needed to be constantly practiced, pushed to its limit, then pushed again. The beast inside thrashed against his ribs and rattled its cage of bones. It needed to feed and roam. It’s who he was.

Was.

He reached past Cal for the dustpan and broom to police the shell casings littering the concrete walkway.

Quite a mess, Cal said.

You here to lecture or shoot?

Neither, Cal said, carefully eyeing Reilly as he swept. What’s with you?

Nothing.

All that brass says otherwise.

Reilly dumped the casings into a steel recycling barrel, his chest tightening with each ping against the bottom. How’d you know I was here?

Guessed. You mentioned a few weeks back you were going to check this place out. Kinda lame if you ask me.

I didn’t, Reilly said, even if Cal was right. Twenty ports offered square plywood benches covered with green outdoor carpeting. Each sat atop an eight-inch pipe slapped with black paint. A faded trailer pitted with rust housed a clubhouse that sold a small array of supplies and snacks from two vending machines. The bitter coffee was free.

Guess that’s what happens when you answer random emails. Cal studied the surroundings. Did I do something, or are you being a jerk just for kicks?

Reilly returned the broom to its hook and his weapon to its case without reply. Cal dissected his every move with an irritation that popped and sizzled at Reilly’s back as he walked into the field to grab his portable target. When he turned, Cal’s brow raised at the shredded bullseye stickers on the cardboard inside the handmade wooden frame.

Rita piss you off? Cal asked.

Reilly laid the target against the nearby bench and placed the pistol case in his range bag. He looked off toward the tree line and let out a slow, indiscernible breath.

He wasn’t built to share his thoughts or feelings regardless of how challenging retirement from Army Special Forces was proving to be. Cal had enough problems with an overloaded work schedule as an attorney at the FBI and an extremely pregnant wife. He wouldn’t dump more on his best friend. It was the whole point of coming here alone.

Your mom is great, Reilly said, then turned to face Cal. He was met with a stone-cold glare. Crazy, but great.

Yes, she is, Cal said. With the baby almost here and running point reconfiguring the grounds at the house, I’d say she’s in heaven.

And you’re not? Reilly asked. Cal’s bronze eyes normally held a laugh and some Irish mischief but were deadly serious. For a man who barely sat still, he was as rigid as granite.

You’d know I could chew that brass you emptied like gum if you’d ever ask, ‘Hey Cal, how’s it going’, instead of ghosting me.

Reilly tossed the empty ammo boxes in a plastic garbage can. Sorry to add to your shitty day.

You suck as a best friend.

Said I was sorry.

Why are you so angry?

I’m not, Reilly said to Cal’s challenging look, his exhale laced with guilt on his lie.

Cal grunted. Then stop hiding.

I’m … just frustrated.

What? The hand-to-hand combat with the saplings and weeds not cutting it? Not threatened enough by the poison ivy or the ticks or the mosquitoes? Rita not bossy enough?

Reilly picked up his range bags. There was no hiding this from Cal even if he wanted to. He’d known what Reilly was from the start. A soldier who lived in the shadows and liked it there. Not even close.

Cal surveyed their surroundings again. You need a hobby, Moose.

I have a hobby. I’m Rita’s landscaping muscle.

Cal shook his head. You know what I mean. Maybe you and Dani should buy this place and turn it into a legitimate range.

Reilly flinched at another reminder of what Dani and Cal had given up because Reilly had dragged her into his world. Their membership at an exclusive and private gun club had been revoked last year because the government had wrongfully called Dani a traitor and Cal had stepped up to defend her. The upscale members hadn’t wanted that kind of publicity.

Maybe, Reilly said, then nodded towards their vehicles. They walked in silence as Cal’s agitation crunched like the stones beneath their boots. This was his best friend and he was letting Cal down by shutting him out. He shook off the self-pity and refocused. How is Simone doing?

Picture a great white shark in a kiddie pool.

Reilly grimaced. How much longer?

Bedrest for at least three more weeks. The baby’s lungs should be functional by then. The longer the better, but that’s the goal. Cal wiped his face with oversized hands.

Speaking of goals, Reilly started. Hockey starts in a few weeks. Gotta watch them raise that banner, right?

Cal shook his head. Baby’s due opening night. Besides, I’m selling my tickets.

Reilly stopped and gaped. The Washington Capitals were Cal’s team since he’d moved to D.C. from New Jersey. The rink was Cal’s escape like the range was his. Cal had choice seats on the corner glass and the Caps had just won the Stanley Cup.

Simone’s dad has Club Level seats, Cal shrugged. I doubt I’ll have time, but I can go with him.

Reilly smirked. He knew Cal’s biggest hockey secret. Provided the Rangers aren’t in town.

Cal focused on the ground and ignored the tease. The money will come in handy. In case the baby comes early and there are problems. He hesitated for more than a moment. I can get top dollar now.

But there’ll be no glass to pound, Reilly said hoping to lighten the mood then swallowed a knot of guilt when Cal didn’t laugh or smile. He hadn’t considered the tangible alarm of unknown tomorrows was profound for both of them.

A former Marine turned lawyer for the FBI, Cal was handling his unexpected life change so much better than the so-called super soldier walking beside him. They both had married strong women only months ago. Women who had turned their lives and hearts inside out. More importantly, without Cal, Dani would be in prison for life for something she did not and could never do. He owed everything to Cal and loved Simone who had also put her legal career at the IRS on the line for Dani.

Cal and Simone were drawn like magnets and when surprised with an unplanned baby, approached parenthood with eyes and arms and hearts wide open. Dani relished their joy but the idea curled something dark inside Reilly. Like McNeal’s messages, he’d been trying to ignore it for weeks.

Yeah, well, all that matters are Simone and the baby.

You’re scared, Reilly said flat out.

Cal’s brows raised with his widening eyes. Fuck yeah, Moose. Christ, are you dense. He started again toward his car.

Reilly stretched his neck again hoping to dilute the blatant ignorance brought by Cal’s brave admission. Cal had moved from soldier to attorney to impending fatherhood with impressive ease. This was a warrior brother for his country, the truth, and now for his family. He did them with a quiet grace that matched Dani’s in her acceptance that although she and Reilly had a love that survived absolute evil, she’d never have a child of her own.

A high price paid for honor and truth.

To keep the secrets and lies that were the warp and weft of his life.

Dani was the anomaly who bound his frayed edges with unshakable hope and a love he was not worthy of. Her touch was life-affirming and filled his soul. She treasured all he was and was not, though he could not fathom why, and she embraced her impending role as godmother. For his part, he not so much struggled with his place in this new family but with his purpose. What he couldn’t face was the want that Dani may have after Cal’s baby arrived, or voice what he now knew he’d never feel.

Nothing, huh, Cal taunted. No snappy comeback?

Reilly had no reply. He wasn’t like Cal. He needed structure to assess threats and weigh risk. He needed a game plan to function or a task to give him value. Something to gauge mission success. He loved helping his brother and his new family. He was happy he could help bring Rita’s wishes for Cal’s home come true. He shouldn’t need more.

Heat radiated from his center. The rules had changed and a promise had been made. He was done. No more hunting. Retired.

A pretty word for retreat and surrender. Words not in The Ranger Code.

Great, silence. Cal rounded his car parked beside Reilly’s truck. Better than being fucking told what to do. Or not to do.

Reilly dropped one bag and yanked on the door handle of his dinged and dented Ford F150 with his free hand as if it could force the monster inside to heel. He whipped the bags across the torn bench seat before getting in, then scrubbed his head in frustration. His hair folded over his fingers as a familiar worthlessness gnawed at his throat.

Need to work on that swearing, Reilly said through the open window.

Cal pulled on his car door and glared at Reilly over the Camaro’s roof. Least of my fucking worries.

Reilly grasped his steering wheel then pulled back at the pinch of skin on his left hand. He ran his middle finger along a slight crack in the hard plastic that now matched the one on the right. Another reminder that his truck needed to either be repaired or replaced.

Old and useless, like me.

Reilly grumbled on the wedge in his throat. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink, or five, and let you give the orders for a change.

That’s the thing, Moose. You’re looking for orders when I’m not giving any. We’re supposed to have each other’s back but you can’t do that if you’re avoiding me and won’t be honest.

Despite what he was now – a retired, used-up soldier – Reilly would always be a lemming looking to follow orders. After all he’d accomplished for his government and his country, all that remained was a self-centered, arrogant husk that had no place in a world centered around peace and families and babies. Only this time, he was chasing his tail and everyone was giving him room to do so. The beast inside him curled inside its dark cage to hide its ugly form.

Cal’s demand to share battled with McNeal’s demand for help. Neither had an answer Reilly could admit to anyone so he locked himself behind the impenetrable wall he’d built and sustained for forty-one years. Emotional avoidance was where he was most comfortable. He couldn’t disappoint anyone there.

Reilly turned the key after Cal started his Camaro, then put the truck in Reverse, fully aware that the honest answer to what was wrong wouldn’t please anyone he loved.

He’d made a promise and it was too late to change his mind.

Chapter 2

Sunday, September 1, 1:00 pm

County Kildare, Republic of Ireland

Seamus Finnegan slammed the door behind him on a string of Gaelic curses, marched across the wide back porch, and landed on the dirt path with such force that mother nature replied with a long roll of thunder. He flipped up the collar on his light wool jacket against the gathering winds and roiling grey clouds with rain-swelled bellies. He’d been home little over an hour and was already out of the thimble-worth’s of patience he’d been born with.

His feet pounded the packed earth path toward a private stable tucked away from the public riding arenas and pens where his legitimate business thrived. To his left beyond the tree line that hid his presence, rolling green hills held a dozen exquisite thoroughbreds that were groomed and practiced by the expert horsemen in his employ. During the weeks he’d been away, ground had been broken for a new barn and paddocks, and broken fences had been mended – all as he had demanded. The ancient wall beside him was next even if the public would not see this part of Emerald Isle Equines. Order and perfection mattered even in the darkest corners. Nothing that touched his life was to be overlooked. Even the old stone wall built decades ago by his grandfather’s hands.

He lifted his head as the winds picked up and the coal colored sky taunted his pace. The dancing leaves in a nearby tree revealed a large black crow watching suspiciously. It squawked when Seamus returned a menacing glare then took flight. It circled on silky wings as he refocused on his task and the morning’s priority.

His anger notched back when he entered the two-story grey barn through the tack room where pristine bits, reins, and bridles hung from brass hooks. Organized shelves held polishes, soaps, and blankets. He passed through to the center where the cobblestone floor was still wet from being hosed clean. Except for time with his wife and daughter, this was where he was happiest. No apprehension or stress. No failures or disappointment. There had been too many in the past year.

His hand floated along the varnished stall doors that had been scrubbed of dirt and muck. Black iron hinges and straps across the front of each gate had been freshly painted to highlight the embossed family crest. A smile teased his mouth. It was the first in weeks.

At the furthest stall, he pulled on the metal bars above the wood door and let it swing wide before stepping in to stroke the nose of an enormous black stallion. The animal nudged and danced against his hand as the pounding in Seamus’ chest slowly subsided. He pulled a short-bristled brush from a bucket of supplies in the corner and pushed it through the silky hide and bold ridges of muscle. The aroma of animal, sweet hay and sharp manure balanced him. It had been his family’s lifeblood for almost a century. Earth and animal against man and the world.

Seamus breathed in the threat of rain whispering through the open doors. Beneath his left hand, massive muscle twitched and flexed as his right moved with steady rhythm. He hummed a light melody to the stunning animal as he quietly cataloged his next steps. He laughed at the horse and patted it when it bumped him with affection.

You’re very welcome, my friend. You’ve an adventure today. The trip will be long, so you’ll need to be on your best behavior. Your new master is excited. You will have fields to graze and races to run. Make new friends and learn a new language. Maybe find a pretty filly or two. The horse snorted and lightly pranced. Ah, you’d like that, Seamus grinned. Make some babes of your own. Watch them grow and learn and find new homes.

Seamus stopped brushing.

For the love of all that’s holy, he said. Everything I argued against this morning. He shook his head then leaned close to breathe in the animal. Fair warning, my friend. Women know everything. Find yourself a good one and keep her close.

The horse nodded then startled and thumped Seamus against the wall when an orange cat ran into the stall. Seamus cursed and hurled the supply bucket at the feral menace. It jumped out of the way and hissed before haughtily trotting off along the stone walkway.

Seamus stood and wiped the hay from his dark trousers and jacket. He lifted