by Rachel Grant
“I’d like to take you to dinner, but we’ve got business to discuss that we shouldn’t talk about in public. Your place first, then dinner out?”
She nodded and pulled out onto the two-lane highway that paralleled the river. He was quiet as she drove, and the silence went from being comfortable to…awkward. Not what she expected after they’d spent over an hour on the phone last night discussing not just her situation, but also inconsequential stuff like movies and food and what it was like to move back to Portland after fifteen years away. It had been a comfortable, easy conversation that flowed like good wine. But now, alone for the first time since she’d had her tongue down his throat, maybe the awkwardness was understandable.
Five miles down the road, he spoke. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, but I didn’t want to say it on the phone.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and kept her eyes on the road.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I should have kept it professional. It was wrong to act interested like that.”
Ouch. “Because you aren’t interested.”
“No! I’m…shit. I suck at this.” He ran his hand over his face. “Ask Keith, he’ll tell you. I’m great at my job. Hopeless in my personal life. And right now, I can’t have one. A personal life, I mean.” He sighed. “The truth is, I like you, Madeline, or rather—”
“Maddie,” she corrected. “I prefer Maddie among friends.”
“Maddie,” he said. “And that just underscores my point. I like the idea of you, but we don’t really know each other. And I’d like to get to know you, but I can’t do more than that, not when Ava needs my full attention.”
He faced forward, his body stiff. “She was jealous and freaked out the other night because I dropped everything for you, then came home late. Some people would probably say she’s being selfish and immature and needs to grow up, but I’m not one of those people.
“I mean, she might be those things, but she’s earned it the hard way. She lost her mother in one of the most painful ways possible and blames herself. Her asshole father blames her for his situation. She’s latched on to me as a lifeline, and I will be that for her. I can’t let her down.” He sighed. “And now Owen is here. I don’t know how much you know about Owen?”
“Trina said he was injured in combat and suffered traumatic brain injury eight or nine years ago?”
“Yeah. He self-medicated after that, and he’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve been helping him out, keeping an eye on him, and he’s been clean for over three years now. You saw him today. He’s doing great. But we were worried that with my move, he might relapse. Keith’s been there for him too, but I’ve been Owen’s anchor. So I helped him find a job at a retreat for wounded warriors. The place is called R&R. It’s near the coast. He starts in two weeks. He came early to help me with some Raptor stuff and to have time to adjust. We’ve learned with his injury that big things—like moving across the country and starting a new job—need to happen in stages. Once he’s settled in, I’ll need to drop in on him periodically, make sure it’s a good fit.”
“Sounds like it could be great for him.”
“Yeah. He’s been doing wilderness training work at Anderson Lake in Virginia for Raptor for the last year, but this will be more his speed. Not prepping men and women for returning to combat, prepping them to return to life.”
He reached across the console and placed a hand on her knee and gently squeezed, then released. She felt a flutter in her belly, but knew it didn’t mean what she wanted it to mean.
“I want to continue what we started the other night, but between Ava and Owen, building a new branch of Raptor, and…today, I sort of took on a volunteer project working with guys at the gym who want to protect counterprotesters at White Patriot rallies. I just don’t have the time or emotional energy to do more than scratch an itch.”
Damn. It was hard to argue with that. She didn’t know much about Josh, but now she understood one thing: the man was a caretaker. Ava. Owen. Her. He’d dropped everything to move across the country for his niece. He’d dropped everything to race to Maddie’s aid with zero notice. He couldn’t leave his SEAL buddy behind. And he’d signed on to help a random bunch of guys at the gym who were embarking on a noble cause.
She guessed he wasn’t the scratch-an-itch type because he didn’t know how to do casual, which made sense given that whole caretaker thing. Like, he could probably do one-night stands with strangers, but someone he needed to be on call to help for the next several weeks—maybe even months—was off-limits because he couldn’t give his caretaking all while keeping it simple.
It was good that she was driving the car, because otherwise, her impulse would be to hug him—after all, who took care of Josh?—but given the sparks that went off when they’d touched the other night, it probably wouldn’t stop at a hug, and he didn’t need that kind of pressure from her.
“Thank you. For your honesty. And for your help. You’re a good man, Josh, and if you need someone to talk to at the end of your long days taking care of everyone but yourself, I’m a phone call away. No pressure, no strings.”
“I think I’d like that.”
She turned into her neighborhood. “If you have a few hours free next Saturday afternoon, my friends and I are going wine tasting. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Next weekend is no good. Planning to take Owen and Ava to R&R for a day trip to check it out.”
“Maybe next month, then.”
“I’d like that if I can swing it.”
After a left turn, she reached her street and pulled into her driveway in the middle of the block. She opened the garage door, then drove inside and shut off the engine before closing it.
Josh had performed a miracle when yesterday he’d convinced an alarm company to install a system this morning before she left for the Kocher Mansion. She punched in her new security code on the car remote.
“Did he follow us this time?” She’d noticed him watching even as they talked and she drove. Josh had been alert. Your best weapon is your eyes.
“No tail. You’re sure he didn’t follow you last night?”
“I didn’t see him. And I didn’t drive straight home, like you suggested.”
“Good.” His gaze fell to her lips, and she felt the air thicken, like he wanted to ignore everything he’d just said and make out like teenagers in the car. Which was pretty much exactly how she felt.
It was a little insane, this attraction. But she’d been wound up since Wednesday, imagining his mouth, his fingers, his cock as she teased herself to orgasm. She wanted to ask him if he’d done the same thing, if he’d come while thinking of her.
She cleared her throat and reached for the door handle. She needed to respect his words, no matter what his eyes said.
He opened his own door and slipped out of her car. “Let me see this new security system of yours.” His voice was even. All business. He was in protector mode again.
She guessed Josh didn’t rest much.
They entered her house, and she punched the buttons to bypass the alarm while keeping it activated. The alarm would be on twenty-four seven for the foreseeable future.
While checking the system, they found the packages she’d ordered Wednesday night—curtains and a rod for the front living room window—on the front porch. “I can help you hang those,” Josh offered.
She shook her head. “I’ll do it later. Let’s have a glass of wine in my office while you wait for your ride.”
He paused. “You don’t want me to take you out to dinner?”
She did want to have dinner with him, but the temptation would be too much. She was hopelessly attracted to him, and spending more time with him would only make it worse. “I think it would be a bad idea. I’m respecting the boundaries you’ve set. Dinner would muddle that.”
He gave a slow nod, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d hoped she’d push back against his limits. Take it out of his control. Mayb
e not consciously, but unconsciously.
They settled on the love seat with a glass of wine each while he ordered a ride. “Fifteen minutes out,” he said with perhaps a tinge of disappointment.
She felt it too, but it was necessary. She was not going to encourage him to break promises he’d made to himself or to Ava. She wanted to be a person he enjoyed, not a responsibility. And, with him helping her with Troy Kocher, she’d already become a responsibility.
He took a sip of his wine, this one a pinot blanc she particularly loved and had chilled knowing he’d be over tonight. As before, he smiled into the glass. “Damn. You have good taste in wine.”
She felt a flush of warmth. At wine tastings, she never paid attention to the details the server always gave—the direction of the wind on the vineyard that season, when the first frost came, the ritual sacrifices made to determine harvest date—but she knew what she liked, and it pleased her that Josh shared her tastes.
They chatted about his plans to train young men from the gym to defend counterprotesters, how it had spontaneously come about from a conversation in the gym just a few short hours ago, and already Keith was onboard and Senator Ravissant would make a statement, and T-shirts were being printed.
“And this all happened today?”
“Crazy, right? But I’ve done this kind of stuff for Raptor for the last year—ever since Rav showed up at that rally last fall. You might have heard of it?”
“Yeah. Trina was there and told me about it.”
He nodded. “Basically, Keith saw it as an opportunity to start an advocacy program to counter fascism and white supremacists. And we’ve got that rule about not making a profit, so it was a good place to sink resources. So I was given the green light today without hesitation. It’s volunteer work, but Raptor will provide headsets and T-shirts, and I’m going to spend all day tomorrow prepping the guys. After the rally, we’ll establish a training schedule because there will be more marches in Portland between now and the election in November.”
She felt a jab of guilt thinking of the coming election. She should be a team player and volunteer, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, a counterprotest was different. Plus it was something she could try to fit into her schedule. “That’s happening Sunday? Since Kocher won’t let me into the museum, I was planning to use the day to go over the notes I’ve managed to copy and start putting together a map of estimated burial locations. But I could—”
Josh shook his head. “It’s your call if you want to show up and protest the rally, but I’m going to be busy. I wouldn’t be able to talk to you at all.”
“You won’t think less of me for not stepping up?”
“Of course not. It’s likely to be dangerous. I’ve got a bad feeling about what the White Patriots are planning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Given my work for Raptor and the current political landscape, I’ve been studying up on the white supremacist movement in the US. All the experts who follow the movement think they’re planning something.”
“What do you mean, like an attack?”
He nodded. “Yes. An attack to signal other groups to rise up.”
“Like Oklahoma City? Wasn’t that supposed to be a signal to other militia members to start the revolution?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“That’s…terrifying.” She sipped her wine. “I’m glad you’ll be there and helping. Making it possible for others to be there.”
“I just hope none of the guys get hurt or arrested.”
She studied his face. Earnest, warm brown eyes, prominent nose, firm jawline. His face was bold and friendly. Like an actor who always played the nice guy on TV and then suddenly was cast in an action movie, making his deep and utter hotness undeniable and obvious to everyone.
But Josh had shown up like an action hero, so she was never fooled by his nice-guy looks. Everything about him was genuine, including deflecting her praise—she’d bet it didn’t come from modesty or insecurity. He simply didn’t view this volunteer job as being about him at all.
“It’s probably just as well that I skip it,” she said, unable to hold back her sigh. “My mom will kill me if I miss family dinner again.”
“You have Sunday dinner every week?”
“Once a month, but I’ve missed the last three in a row.” For reasons. But she wasn’t about to spill that tea with Josh.
“How big is your family?”
“Mom, Dad. Brother and his wife.”
“You close? To your brother?”
“Not really. I mean, we’re not like you and your brother. Just…distant. He and I are fifteen years apart in age. I worshipped him when I was a kid, but things are different now.” She missed the brother of her childhood. Alan had been fun and caring, and she’d counted the days between his visits home from college.
He glanced at his phone. “Car is about a minute away.”
She was a little relieved, as it saved her from having to explain her family dynamics. Things were strained between her parents, her brother, and herself, but in the end, they all loved each other. That was more than Josh had.
She walked him to the front door and paused the alarm to step outside. He faced her, the intensity in his eyes sending a shot of heat straight to her center. “I wish we could start something.”
“Me too.” She didn’t think she’d ever said a truer thing.
He held her gaze. A car pulled up in front of her house, but he didn’t move. He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “Fuck it,” and his hand was behind her neck, pulling her forward. He leaned down and gave her a hot, deep kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she took him in and stroked him with her own.
The kiss was intense, amazing, and utterly unexpected.
A horn honked.
Josh raised his head. He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “G’night, Maddie.”
She smiled back, giddiness radiating outward until even her fingertips tingled. “Night, Josh.”
He crossed the front walk and climbed into the waiting vehicle. She was back inside and had just reset the alarm when her phone buzzed.
Josh: I shouldn’t have done that.
Maddie: I know.
Josh: I’m not sorry.
Maddie: I’m not either.
5
Josh lowered his sunglasses and scanned the crowd. The White Patriots were on the green grass next to the pond, a sea of pasty skin burning in the hot noon sun.
Not that Josh wasn’t pasty, but those guys took it to a whole new level.
He swatted at a mosquito and wished it wasn’t too early for the tiki torches to come out. The mosquitoes were ripe thanks to the heat wave and ponds that dotted the park. Citronella would be handy about now.
The White Patriots were made up of several white supremacist demographic groups that were fairly easy to identify. The oldest White Patriots were the Vietnam vets, but there were also skinheads, old-school KKK, swastika-wearing neo-Nazis—he was damn glad Ava was nowhere near this park—and some guys who looked like they belonged to the eastern Oregon militia movement crowd.
Josh steeled himself against reacting to the symbols and signs, and studied his team. He, Owen, Arthur, and two other trainers from the gym wore bright green Raptor/Bond Ironworks T-shirts. They were the commanders of the volunteers. All five of them had served in one branch of the military or another, and Arthur had also been special forces—a Ranger—in his Army days. The volunteers—foot soldiers in this makeshift army—all wore blue shirts with the same Raptor/Bond logos.
The Raptor logo had always looked a little malevolent to Josh, but also a bit badass in a don’t-mess-with-the-bird kind of way. On the back of the shirt it said “Security Volunteer” in big letters.
The shirts made a promise: Follow our lead, and we’ll keep you safe. Claiming authority when officially they had none, but Josh did his best to smooth the way, meeting with the police prior to the event and having all his volunteers submit to insp
ection. No one carried weapons. They were here to protect peaceful counterprotesters using peaceful means.
Satellite trucks lined the street at the edge of the park. They weren’t in downtown, but still, this rally would garner attention and the media was out in force. As the White Patriots filled the park, reporters approached Josh and the other green shirts to request interviews. The real story here was the reaction of city residents to the gathering of white supremacists in Portland.
Josh and the others refused on the grounds that talking to the press meant they couldn’t be vigilant for threats. The reporters moved on, zeroing in on the blue shirt volunteers.
They’d rehearsed this yesterday, and one by one, they all refused, nor did they rise to the bait of being questioned on whether or not they were here to start violence. The not so subtle message presented by the reporters being: Who is the real terrorist organization here? The one with the nice white boys, or the one with all the brown people led by the Black guy and the Raptor operative?
Josh ignored it all and scanned the crowd. Everyone on the team wore Raptor headsets, and they were spread out amongst the counterprotesters, checking in and alerting others if they saw anything suspicious as the rally shifted into full swing.
A face in the park caught Josh’s eye, and he spoke into the radio. “Owen, see the guy to the right of the stage about five meters, yellow shirt, blond hair?”
“No…I—wait. Yes. Motherfucker, it’s the wannabe security guard, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Troy Kocher.”
“Not surprising given his great-grandpa was a bona fide Nazi,” Owen said.
“Damn, I think that’s the curator with him. Oliver Shields.” Josh studied the two men. They were grinning and laughing. Having the time of their lives at a hate rally. “Now we know why Kocher refused Maddie access to the collection today. ‘Religious reasons,’ he’d said.”
“Asshole,” Owen grumbled.
“Who’s Maddie?” Javonte asked.
“Josh’s girl,” Owen said before Josh could kill the conversation.
“You got a girl?” Desmond said, “Man, you been holding out on us. I bet she’s hot too. Even though you’ve got an ugly mug, I hear chicks dig SEALs, even old-man former ones.”
