The Story of Danny Rose (Hillcroft Group Book 1), page 1
THE STORY OF DANNY ROSE
THE HILLCROFT GROUP
BOOK 1
CARA DEE
The Story of Danny Rose
Copyright © 2024 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
This book along with its cover are licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission from the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. This work along with its cover may not be regenerated or processed using artificial intelligence (AI) in any capacity. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and all references to historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Content warning: Scenes described from 9/11.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
Formatted by Eliza Rae Services.
CONTENTS
The Hillcroft Group
1998
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Excerpt from Unmade
More from Cara
About Cara
THE HILLCROFT GROUP
All books in the Hillcroft Group series are standalone and can be read out of order, as each story follows a new dynamic with various subgenres within romance. What the characters have in common is the place they work and, of course, the HEA they will fight for. Characters do cross over in multiple titles, but they will be reintroduced, where necessary, to new readers. All books in this series are labeled romantic suspense and military romance.
The Story of Danny Rose is the first novel in the Hillcroft Group series, and it takes us back to right before the world changed for the operators who would eventually spend years in and out of combat zones during the Global War on Terrorism.
The Hillcroft Group
#1 – The Story of Danny Rose
#2 – Unmade
#3 – Collision of Winters
#4 – Apartment 6
#5 – Hellfire
With more TBA
1998
CHAPTER 1
Emerson Payne
Scenario:
You meet a couple Army-dropout twin brothers from Tennessee in a bar. You get to talking over a few pints, and they express their frustrated desire for adventure and danger. You see something in them. Strength, potential, brains. Especially the quiet twin. He’s a bloody genius. Calculating as fuck for his young age. The talker is sharp, creative, and just reckless enough. They wanna get out. They wanna see the world. And you’re drunk. You take them under your wing, and you start putting them through the same selection process that once made you a Special Forces operator.
Months later, you figure it’s time to give the boys a reward before they reach the next step in their training, so you head toward your cabin in the Appalachians for a relaxing weekend with no one around for miles. No TV, no news, a break from the headlines about whether the president has or has not had sexual relations with that woman. It’s a perfect day. Sky’s blue, summer’s almost here, roadside flowers are in bloom, the mountains surround you like majestic guardians, and you roll down your window to hear the forest sounds, to hear the gravel crunch under the tires of your truck. But then you see something just off the side of the road.
Smoke?
Islowed to a stop and furrowed my brow. “Wait here, boys.” I got out of the truck and glanced around me. If someone had thrown a cigarette out here… But as I got closer, it looked like a small flare or something that just puffed out white smoke.
I squatted down in front of it. No smell. There was a note, and I picked it up.
Where there’s smoke, Emerson George Payne…
I shot straight up and felt the tiny hairs rise on my arms and neck. Birds were chirping, insects were buzzing, I didn’t hear any branches breaking or the underbrush rustling. Was someone watching? If they were, they’d been perched someplace for a while. Possibly. Fuck.
Determining that the smoke wasn’t gonna cause a fire, I made my way back to the truck and tore up the dirt road. Get out of whoever’s line of sight. It had to be a prank, right? I knew too many guys who could be behind something like this, and at least half a dozen of them had been to my cabin.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Reese asked from the back seat.
“I’m ninety percent sure it’s not.” I drove around the next bend, where the climb began.
“And the other ten?” he pressed.
I raked my teeth along my bottom lip. “Do you need your brother to extrapolate for you, Reese?”
He sucked his teeth and shut his mouth.
Kids.
Sometimes they acted much older than their twenty years.
Not always.
A flash of neon orange caught my eye, and I slowed down once more. Okay, something was up. Who knew I was coming here this weekend? My sister, my brother. And Robin, but she didn’t know the location.
“Is that a note on the tree?” Reese wondered.
“I’m about to find out. Stay here.” I jumped out of the truck, keeping an eye on my surroundings, and made quick work of crossing the road and trailing down into the ditch where I could reach the piece of paper. Where was the nearest Xerox place? This was printed.
Emerson George Payne. Father, American diplomat. Mother, schoolteacher from London. Two brothers, one sister, two older than you. Eldest brother passed away in 1985. Younger brother enlisted four years after you.
I clenched my jaw and crumpled the note in my hand. Make that seventy-five percent sure nothing was wrong.
Not many had that much information on me—for a fucking reason. Before I’d joined the Army, I’d taken my mum’s surname to distance myself from my old man’s history, part of which was public record. At that point, I’d already had my sights set on the SAS. I’d wanted a new identity.
Returning to the truck once more, I told the boys we were on foot from here on out. Just to err on the safe side. If someone was feeding me information about myself, they wanted my attention. It was highly unlikely I’d be taken out from the road, in other words, but if we had someone waiting for us at the cabin, I didn’t want them to see us coming.
“Leave your bags for now, and listen to me carefully.”
While the boys disappeared into the forested mountainside, I stayed on the left side of the dirt road, some ten feet into the woods, where I could still see in case there were additional messages.
I found the third one a couple minutes later.
Emerson George Payne. 6’5”, 220 lbs, 40 years old, brown hair, blue eyes. Noticeable markings: 4-inch scar on your neck after an encounter with a broken glass bottle, poorly healed gunshot wound on left-side rib cage. Quick question. How do you identify an SAS operator? By the tattoos he doesn’t have and the intel he doesn’t share.
Who was this motherfucker?
I gnashed my teeth and continued the trek up the mountain, disturbing the thick underbrush as I went. Between trees, around boulders, over logs—until I spotted a fourth note.
Born in London but spent your school years in DC. Moved back to London after your dad died, and rather than continuing your studies, you enlisted. At 22, you left the Army and became an SAS operator. The next time you appear in any records, you’re on a training mission with the US Green Berets. You’re under contract as a civilian consultant, but we know there’s nothing civilian about you, Emerson George Payne.
My mind raced to find clues in the information, and I picked up the pace. With a trained eye, you could get my stats by looking at me. I wasn’t precisely 220 pounds, but I’d been thereabouts throughout my adult life. They’d nicknamed me Big Yankee in the Army—not very creative—because of my height and my American upbringing. Whoever this was used a language—and had access to certain intel—that made me think he himself was military.
I had no reason to believe it was a woman.
Outside my work, I only socialized with a small group of people. We went to an underground BDSM club sometimes, and they sure as fuck didn’t know any of this about me. Robin knew I was former military, that was all.
I estimated I had maybe half a klick left to my cabin when I spotted yet another message. I jogged over to the tree and grabbed the note, and the first thing I saw was a doodling of two arrows crossing. The insignia of the US Army Special Forces.
I remember a story you told us once. You were in Baghdad when the bombs dropped in ’91. Over the course of 100 hours, we showed the world our technological prowess, from the GPS-guided missiles to the F-117 stealth fighter, and yet, all you talked about were the dogs that barked on the streets of Baghdad right before the bombs started falling. Do you hear any dogs barking now, Emerson George Payne?
This punk was toying with me. I’d told that story countless times in the last four years alone. But all right then, at least we could narrow things down further. This guy was likely a Green Beret, which meant he was highly trained and skilled. Had I pissed such blokes off? Damn right. They bro
If I met one hundred of them in a year, seventy-five hated my guts.
I started running through the woods.
Someone was holding a grudge, which made shit more unpredictable. Because I hadn’t gone in as a consultant in the last twelve months. I didn’t get involved in official military business anymore. The private sector had sucked me in full-time.
I hauled in a breath and jumped over a fallen tree, and then I could see smoke in the distance. A familiar sight from hundreds of hikes in the area. The smoke was coming from the chimney of my cabin. Someone was there, and they didn’t mind my knowing that fact.
At least he didn’t wanna kill me. He would’ve done it already. No, he had some other problem with me.
I reached the end of the dirt road and found a big tree I could stay semi-hidden behind. From there, I could see most of my property. I had a sad excuse for an orchard on the other side of the cabin. And an outhouse. Otherwise, this was it. The cabin was right on the lake, with the wraparound porch extending past the water’s edge. A one-story log cabin with the kitchen and living room area forming an L around the bedroom. The back of the cabin had two windows River and Reese could use to enter—
Movement caught my eye, and I watched a man trail along the porch, coming from around the bend, and he was cutting something—an apple. I zeroed in on his face as he lifted an apple wedge onto the blade and brought it to his mouth.
I knew him from somewhere, definitely. He fit the bill of the hundreds of young soldiers I’d encountered over the years. Midtwenties, fit. Average height. Swimmer’s build. Dressed in Army greens and a black tee. Boots. Maybe he wasn’t currently active—and hadn’t been in a while? He’d let his dirty-blond hair grow out.
I narrowed my eyes. I remembered him. Fuck me, it couldn’t be. He’d given me a daily fucking headache with his temper—and it’d frustrated me because he’d been able to reel it in when it mattered. He knew just when to get into trouble without taking heat for it. Pub fights, trash talk, even petty theft. He’d performed so damn well that his superiors had looked the other way.
He hadn’t merely been the top-of-his-class type of candidate. He’d pushed the envelope throughout his assessment and selection. He was a reluctant leader who roared at his fellow candidates to go further. He left no man behind—but he could be a goddamn dick before and after.
I’d read every single file about this boy.
Under different circumstances, I would’ve been anything but professional. He had a killer smile and dimples to go with it. Giant ego—but well-earned. Fluent in four languages, had already seen more of the world than most of his peers, and he was easily the best soldier his age I’d come across, excelling in everything they threw at him. Direct action, counterinsurgency, special recon, unconventional warfare… He’d made it through my resistance-to-interrogation training without a moment’s thought of surrender, despite his enraged outbursts.
He’d also been murderous when I’d put them through the SAS Endurance and I’d finished before him.
He wasn’t all skills and perfection, though. Far from it. He was his own worst enemy, and…I was starting to suspect that was why he was here. Trouble had caught up to him, hadn’t it?
It would fit his profile somewhat if he’d found a way to blame me. There were exceptions, because—
“There’s no reason to hide from me, Payne.”
My mouth twitched. Still sharp as a tack. Always on high alert without looking the part. He sat down on the wide log rails that framed the porch, ballsy enough to keep his back to me.
“You don’t have to worry—I’m not gonna kill you,” he said.
Cocky little son of a bitch. Some things never changed.
Having no reason to hide anymore, I stepped out of the woods and adjusted my gun at the base of my spine. Now it was no longer about possibly having to use it, and all about not wanting him to see it. He’d find a way to mock me for it. That was his way.
As I headed up the porch steps, he pointed his blade at the kitchen window.
“I don’t know if it’s Twin One or Twin Two, but I can see their shadow over the stove.”
I suppressed a sigh.
“The other one’s underneath the porch,” he added dismissively. “He might wanna dry his feet. It’s gonna be chilly tonight.”
I clasped my hands behind my back and stepped into his line of sight, keeping the front door behind me. “Danny Rose.”
He grinned and widened his arms. “You remember me.”
Yup, still that killer smile with the dimples. Dangerously gorgeous blue eyes too.
I nodded with a dip of my chin, then eyed the floorboards. “Boys, you can come out. It was less exciting than a prank.”
I heard some shuffling on the other side of the door and a twig or two breaking underneath the porch. Soon after, the Tenley twins joined me on the porch and looked at Danny with shuttered expressions.
Danny finished his apple and jumped to his feet, then extended his hand to Reese. “I guess Payne has forgotten his manners. I’m Danny—and I already know who you are. But which one is which?”
I cleared my throat and kept quiet. No reason to tell Danny I was making Reese wear a dark tee every day and River a light. There was seriously no other way to tell them apart. They were carbon copies, with copper-brown hair, sharp features, and striking green eyes. They had some height on Danny, but they shared his swimmer’s build. Or runner’s, maybe.
“Reese.” Reese shook Danny’s hand. “How do you know who we are?”
Good question.
I folded my arms over my chest.
“How about we trade?” Danny suggested. “I ask a question, and you answer. Then you can ask me something.”
Technically, that’d already happened. He’d asked who was Reese and who was River.
Not that it mattered. “No,” I replied. “I ask the questions—you answer. Or you get off my property.”
He stared at me.
This was one of the fields in which Danny didn’t belong. He wasn’t a gray man. He didn’t necessarily stand out, but there was nothing ordinary about him either. His expression often revealed his mood, his stubbornness, and how much left he had on his fuse.
I showed fuck-all.
“I feel like I have a lot to bargain with,” he hedged, returning his knife to its sheath. “Don’t you wanna know how I got all that info on you?”
Yes, but not at any cost. Not enough to give him leverage. And to be honest, I had my guesses. Considering he’d dug out my history and probably knew the names of my siblings, chances were he’d gone through my sister somehow. She was a sociable woman who would share her life story with the person standing behind her in the line at the grocery store.
If that were the case, I’d have a whole other bone to pick with Danny.
He wasn’t the type to break eye contact. Instead, he flashed his palms in surrender and switched tactics. “Fine. I heard through the grapevine that you were training a pair of twin brothers who’d recently quit the Army.”
Hmm. Plausible. I probably had a friend who knew a friend of his and so on. For as great as we were at keeping shit to ourselves, we were masters at sharing insignificant gossip. Veterans who loved to vent were a dime a dozen, and I’d been in the game long enough to admit I was one of them. So while I never shared personal information, pour me a pint and I could tell anyone about Belize, Baghdad, and Bosnia.
Twin brothers with great potential who left the Army right after finishing boot camp were, on the other hand, not a dime a dozen. Couldn’t have taken Danny long to find out who they were.
I accepted his response and dug out my car keys, and I handed them to Reese. “Go get the truck. I’ve promised you beer and steaks.”
“Yes, sir.”
The twins jogged down the porch steps.
In the meantime, Danny and I maintained eye contact.
“Nice. Send away the kids so you and I can be alone…” He winked.
Cute.
The answer to my next question would determine if I let Danny stay for dinner.
