She ignored the pain slicing through her chest. The wound was still too fresh, to raw to be poked at. “W-who are you?”
“I’m Aidan Stone. My parents live next door. Are you the live-in? The one who left that mess in the kitchen?”
“If you’re asking if I live here, the answer is yes.” The mess was none of his business. “Your turn, Aidan Stone.” She finally freed her legs and shoved the blanket to the floor, feeling more in control, but no less pissed off. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
“Your house?”
His incredulous tone did nothing to dampen her temper. “Yes. My house.”
Aidan took a step toward her. If he was who he said he was, she knew his parents. But she didn’t know him. Instinct made her scramble back as a low growly noise filled the room.
“I said I’m not going to hurt you.”
She brought her knees up, prepared to launch herself over the back of the couch so she could run, if necessary.
“I’ve heard that before.” The last man who’d uttered those words to her broke his promise. And her nose. She wouldn’t be caught unaware again. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, as if he was clenching his teeth. “Where’s Boss?”
“What gives you the right to barge into my house and demand answers about any damn thing? I don’t know anyone named Boss. How did you get in here anyway?”
She spied her cell phone on the coffee table. Zoe weighed her odds. From the look of him, Aidan had more than half a foot and fifty pounds of solid muscle on her. She probably wouldn’t have time to dial 9-1-1 even if she managed to get to her phone before he got to her.
He must’ve guessed at her thoughts, because he reached for the phone. He surprised her by tossing it in her direction. Zoe caught the phone and cradled it against her chest.
“I have a key. Call the police if it’ll make you feel better. All I want is an answer, and then I’ll go.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Dwight Parks,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure she understood English. “The man who owns the couch you’re sitting on, as well as everything else in the house you say belongs to you. Where is he?”
Zoe was stunned silent. He had a key. To her grandfather’s house.
Are you trying to give the old man a heart attack?
Her stomach turned sour.
He doesn’t know.
Zoe looked at Aidan, really looked at him for the first time. His white T-shirt stood out in stark contrast to the black leather jacket, black jeans, and black motorcycle boots he wore. His hair was black, too. Cut short, accentuating a widow’s peak. He had a heavy brow ridge, a nose that looked like it had been broken a time or two, and rich, whiskey colored eyes framed with thick lashes women would kill for.
He looked sturdy, like a guy who could withstand a hit or two, physical or emotional. She hoped that was true, because the one she was about to launch was a doozy.
“He’s not here,” she managed, knowing those were the wrong words, but unable to choke out the ones he needed to hear.
Aidan’s brow went up as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Where is he?”
He was trying to be nonchalant, but the tension was obvious in his stance. He was bracing himself for whatever was coming.
For some reason, that single act of arrogant strength grounded her. Helped her form the right words. The words she had come to hate.
“He died.”
Zoe’s heart ached as the color drained from Aidan’s face. His chest expanded under his T-shirt, causing the material to mold against what appeared to be a solid wall of muscles. There was no reading his blank expression, but she felt the pain radiating from him as if it were her own. And maybe it was. She’d had so little time with her grandad, and now he was gone.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.” She didn’t know why, but she added, “I’m sorry.” He gave her a sharp nod, his gaze focused on something behind her. “Since you have a key, I’m guessing you and my grandfather were close?”
That earned her a hard stare. “Your grandfather?”
“Yes. I’m not the housekeeper. I’m Zoe Parks.”
His gaze left her face and traveled over her body in a slow perusal. “You’re Boss’s little Zoe?”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. She hated when he called her that. Now, she’d give anything to hear it one more time.
Aidan dropped his arms to his sides. “I should go. I’m sorry if I scared you, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
He turned and strode toward the kitchen.
“Wait!”
Zoe launched herself from the couch, unsure as to why she was chasing after the guy. The last thing she needed was another leather-clad, man-with-an-attitude in her life, but he couldn’t just leave. She had questions. About him. About her grandfather.
She caught up with him in the kitchen in time to see him reach into a cigar box that was sitting on the counter. Since it hadn’t been there before, she assumed he’d brought them with him.
“You weren’t at the funeral. Why haven’t I seen you before now?”
His brow went up. “I could ask you the same question.”
Zoe wasn’t ready to have that conversation. She held his gaze, but remained silent.
“I’ve been gone,” he huffed.
Gone? All this time? Gone where?
Before she could ask, Aidan pulled two cigars from the box and slipped them into an inside pocket of his jacket. When he closed the lid on the rest of the contents, she asked, “What am I supposed to do with the rest of those?”
The sadness in his expression stole her breath as he glanced toward the box and then back at her. He grabbed the box and dropped it into the trash.
“The alarm wasn’t set when I came in,” he said quietly. “Activate it after I leave. Boss would want you to stay safe.”
Zoe had the urge to go to him, wrap her arms around him, and offer comfort. But that was crazy. He was a stranger. He’d snuck into her house like a thief in the night.
And with his love for her grandfather, he’d stolen a tiny piece of her heart.
3
Aidan strolled into Frankie’s Uptown in Summerlin, the community in the Las Vegas Valley where his parents lived. The neighborhood sports bar was new, according to his parents, but had quickly become their favorite place to hang. He could see why. The sleek, modern look of the outside had nothing on what was going on inside. Brick walls and archways. Stained concrete floors. Oversized, raised wooden booths and a solid wood bar that damn near ran the length of the place. And flatscreen TVs everywhere he looked.
Oh yeah. He could get behind a place like this.
“Aidan!” His mom slid from a booth and ran toward him. He caught her with an oomph and wrapped his arms around her slight frame. He hugged her tight, the heaviness in his heart feeling a little less … heavy.
“Hey, Mom.” He held her at arm’s length and took her in. She looked damned good. The sides of her wavy black hair were pulled back, leaving the rest to fall around her shoulders. Her skin had a youthful glow indicative of a life filled with happiness and laughter. Her skinny jeans, combat boots, and low-cut Harley Davidson shirt might make another son cringe. To Aidan, she looked like the youthful, generous, loving, badass mom that she was.
His parents had married young. Started their family young. Both were in their fifties, but they could pass for their thirties. Aidan attributed it to the fact neither had ever done drugs or smoked cigarettes, and they only drank socially, rarely in excess. His parents attributed it to being madly in love with each other, and with their children.
Aidan set his mom back on her feet, not quite able to hold her gaze. He was happy to see her, but that didn’t mean she was off the hook. His dad, either.
He’d spent the last couple of hours staring at the ceiling over the bed instead of sleeping. He laid there vowing, over and over again, not to let anger get the best of him—a hard-won
battle to be sure. He was certain his parents had a reasonable explanation for keeping Boss’s death from him for six fucking weeks. He was also sure he didn’t care. They should’ve told him.
“Welcome home, son.”
Aidan accepted the hand his dad offered, giving him the same passing glance he’d given his mom. “Thanks, Pop. Good to see you.”
Aidan caught the look his mom and dad shared as he turned to greet two of his three younger sisters. His parents knew something was up. He’d clue them in soon enough.
“Bailey,” he muttered as his sister hugged him. He stepped back and extended her arm. “You’ve added to your ink since the last time I was home.” An orchid wrapped around her formerly unadorned forearm—the only blank slate left on either side. “Nice.”
Bailey was a year and a half younger than him. She managed the business end of the family shop, but she also knew her way around a car. At first, Aidan worried about her being the only woman working with a bunch of rough and rowdy dudes. He should’ve known better. His tough, outspoken sister didn’t let anyone push her around.
“Leo pitched a fit about inking a fucking flower.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But, I convinced him.”
Bailey might fit in with the boys, but that didn’t mean she was one. Underneath all that ink and bad attitude, she was all woman.
Aidan groaned. He liked Leo, damn it. The guy was the best kept secret in Vegas. Aidan had been hoping to have Leo add to his own ink while he was home. “Do I have to kick his ass for touching my sister?”
Bailey punched his shoulder, harder than necessary. “If any ass needs kicking, I’ll be the one to do it.” Her smile spoke of things Aidan didn’t want to think about. “We’ve been exclusive for a couple of months, so he has permission to touch me anytime he wants.”
All right, then. Moving on.
“Shannon!” He yelled a little too loudly, making the rest of his family laugh. He grabbed his youngest sister and pulled her into a bear-hug. “How’s med school?”
“I’ll never finish if you don’t put me down and let me breathe.”
Aidan chuckled and set her back on her feet. He couldn’t resist ruffling her hair. “Still can’t believe you’re gonna be a doctor.” He was proud of her. Of all his sisters. They were all strong, amazing women.
“Let’s sit down.” His dad waved them toward the booth. “People are starting to stare.”
“People always stare, Dad,” Bailey said. “Between mom’s cleavage, your ponytail, my ink, and Aidan’s boots and leather riding jacket, we look like a biker gang.”
“What about me?” Shannon protested.
“What about you, squirt?” Aidan asked as he let the girls slide into the long booth before slipping off his jacket and sliding in next to Shannon. His parents took the opposite side.
“Aren’t I part of the gang?”
Bailey snorted. “You got any ink?”
“No.”
“Piercings?”
“No.”
“Do you own anything black?”
Shannon scowled. “With my pale skin? Black makes me look like I’m dead. I want to save people. Not scare the shit out of them by looking like a zombie.”
“I rest my case,” Bailey smiled, giving Shannon a nudge. “There’s plenty of guys in Leo’s shop who would be happy to pop your ink cherry. Just say the word.”
“Leave her alone, Bailey. If Shannon wants a tattoo, she’ll get one. I’ll even go with her,” their mom added, then drilled Bailey with that take-no-shit stare that had them all paying attention. “But only if it’s Shannon’s decision.”
The waitress stopped by, ending the tat debate while they checked out the menu and ordered their food and drinks.
“Have you heard from Piper?” His dad’s question was anything but casual.
His middle sister was currently deployed—with the fucking Army, of all things—in a place Aidan would rather not discuss with his parents. Piper felt the same way, hence the reason she hadn’t called home recently.
“Not while I was away, but we video chatted the night I got back. She seemed good. Upbeat. Strong and healthy.” Those were all the things his family would want to hear, but they were also true. Piper loved being in the military as much as he did. If only she’d joined the right branch.
His mom reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“And what about you? You look tired. What time did you get in?”
He was tired. “Around two this morning.”
“I’ll bet the neighbors loved that,” Bailey joked. She was referring to the loud rumble of his Harley, but it was the opening he needed to clear the air.
“Speaking of neighbors, I met Zoe Parks shortly after I arrived.”
Everyone at the table went silent for a full minute before his mom finally spoke.
“Oh, Aidan.” His parents did that silent communication thing again. “What did you do?”
“What I always do when I come home,” he snapped, letting his annoyance get the better of him. His dad’s brow raised with a clear warning. Aidan’s lungs emptied and he slumped against the back of the booth. “I went to see Boss…” He let his voice trail off. His parents didn’t know about his cigar delivery ritual. That was between him and Boss. Besides, what he’d done wasn’t the point. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His mom groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t scare the life out of her by pounding on the door in the middle of the night. Zoe is a sweet girl, Aidan. She’s been through a lot.”
“She’s fine.” Of that, he was sure. He had unintentionally scared her, but she’d come out swinging. A spitfire, that one. “But, I’m not.” His chest ached, with loss … and betrayal. “How could you keep Boss dying from me?”
“Aidan.” His dad’s tone was soft, but unapologetic. “Your mother and I did what we thought was best. You had an important job to do. Losing Dwight was difficult, for all of us.” Beside him, Aidan caught both his sister’s solemn nods of agreement. “We all decided to wait until you got back, rather than distract you in a place where distraction could get you killed.”
Which meant they hadn’t told Piper, either. The thought brought with it an immediate understanding of the decision they’d made. There was no way he’d want Piper to get that kind of news while she was so far away from her family, her support system. Still, “I’ve been back for days.”
His dad’s brow lifted in challenge. “And if we’d told you, what would you have done?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer before his dad went on.
“You would’ve come straight home. You would’ve gotten on your motorcycle without the proper sleep or concentration needed to make the long trip. You would’ve put yourself at risk, only to get here and realize what I’m guessing you’re realizing right now. That there’s nothing you can do. Had we told you when it happened, a few days ago, or now—which was our plan, by the way, to tell you here, today—the end result is the same. Dwight is gone, son.”
Shannon slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Aidan stared at their joined fingers resting on his thigh and let the hurt and anger dissipate. He hadn’t wanted to hear the rational. His grief wanted to rage and point fingers. Faced with the truth, there was nothing more he could do but accept it. His parent’s had done what most parents would do. They’d withheld the information until the safest possible moment to divulge. He couldn’t fault them for doing the same thing he would do, if the situation were reversed. Didn’t make it suck any less, though.
“What happened?”
“He had a massive heart attack,” his dad said.
Shannon sniffled as Bailey shifted in her seat. Needing to provide them support long overdue, Aidan released Shannon’s hand. He reached an arm behind her shoulders. She didn’t hesitate to press into his side. He kept stretching until he could rest his palm against the curve of Bailey’s shoulder. It wasn’t much, but he hoped the connection helped them as much as it did him.
His mo
m reached out, beckoning for his other hand. He wrapped her slim fingers with his.
“Zoe was with Dwight when it happened. She was planting flowers while he relaxed on the porch. They were having a conversation and he suddenly stopped talking. By the time Zoe got to him…”
“He was gone,” Aidan said, needing to say the words he’d heard—first from Zoe, then from his dad—in order to solidify the fact in his head.
“He went quick,” Shannon whispered beside him. “He didn’t suffer.”
He pressed a kiss to Shannon’s temple. “That’s the best any of us can hope for.”
Their lunch arrived, offering the perfect opportunity to lighten the mood. The others made small talk. His dad and Bailey discussed business. Shannon told them about starting her third-year clinical rotation in Internal Medicine, and that she was considering cardiology as a long-term career path. His mom talked about her latest pet project—working with a local boys and girls club to provide mechanical workshops for any child interested in their trade.
Aidan ate his burger and listened half-heartedly, too lost in his own thoughts to participate much in the conversation.
Zoe had been with Boss when he died. Why was she there? In all the years Aidan had known Boss, she never visited. Why now? What was her story?
By the time the bill was paid and they were headed out the door, Aidan was thoroughly distracted, just as his parents had predicted.
“Are you coming to the car show?” Bailey asked. “While Mom and Dad are shaking hands, we can sneak off and look at all the new toys.”
Aidan nodded. “Sounds great. I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours.”
There was something he needed to do first.
4
Aidan parked his motorcycle along the side of the drive and took off his helmet. He rested it against his thigh, draping his forearm along the curved edge. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to shield the glare of the desert sun, so he kept his sunglasses on. The air smelled of flowers mixed with the faint scent of smoke from the recent wildfires in Nevada and the neighboring states. Aidan filled his lungs with it. He let it feed and infuse every cell in his body as he prepared to say one of the hardest goodbyes of his life.
Hot SEAL, Vegas Nights Page 2
