HEADSTRONG
BOOK TWO: ADAPT
MELANIE RACHEL
Copyright © 2019 by Melanie Rachel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First printing 2019
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Excerpt from Headstrong Book Three: Overcome
Excerpt from A Good Name
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Darnet Sightings!
The adventurous duo has been busy as debonair FORGE CEO William Darcy shows off our city to his recently resident love interest, the beautiful cyber-security guru Elizabeth Bennet. The two have been seen at a Rangers game, scaling walls at The Cliffs, ice-skating in Central Park, and catching performances at SubCulture and the Polonsky. Yesterday afternoon the pair was spied indoors at La Marina, taking in the views and sharing a leisurely lunch. Has our intrepid former Marine sergeant finally taken New York City’s most eligible bachelor off the market?
“I suppose you get used to the purple prose and the wrong rank,” Elizabeth sighed, as she finished reading the latest article aloud from her phone screen and realized it hadn’t bothered her as much as it had only a week before. “At least there aren’t photos and they didn’t see us everywhere. Nobody is chasing us or popping up at dinner. And not one mention of glass slippers or tiaras.”
Will stood in front of the open refrigerator for a minute, finally grabbing an orange. “Honestly, I try not to read them. What is that, about half the places?” he asked distractedly as he began to pull off the peel.
“Mmm, about that,” Elizabeth replied, now engaged in typing a text. Will held out a section of the orange to her, and she thanked him before popping it in her mouth. He nodded at the phone, his mouth full, and gave her a curious look.
“Kit,” she said after swallowing the fruit. “I have to be at the school tomorrow around eleven. Should I meet you somewhere after, or should I come back here?”
“I think I’m going to use the time to get some work done, if you don’t mind,” he told her. “I’ll call Jerry about the car.”
“Nah, I can take the train,” she said automatically, still typing.
She glanced up in time to see Will’s expression turn dark, and she shook her head at him. What had originally irritated her had become a source of amusement now that she knew him better. He’s a good man and a kind one, she thought. He’s just incredibly set in his ways, and truthfully, a bit of a snob. She had to admit it felt good to have him worry about her, but there were some things it just didn’t make sense to give up, and public transportation was one of them.
“Will,” she explained gently, “it’ll be daytime. Off-hours and opposite commute.” She leaned over to kiss him. “This is how most of the twenty million people in the greater New York City area travel.”
“That fact alone means you should take the car,” he grunted.
Elizabeth grinned a bit and took another piece of his orange. “What’s the matter, Will? Can’t bear to be in such close quarters with the great unwashed?” She knew it wasn’t about that, or even about being overly fond of his car—he walked to his office most days. She just couldn’t resist the jab.
He frowned, glanced at the orange and then at her. “There is another orange in the refrigerator, you know,” he informed her.
“No thanks,” she said off-handedly. “I just wanted a few pieces.” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge, but he just shoved the remaining pieces in his mouth and tossed the peels in the garbage. Elizabeth returned to her phone, trying to pry some details out of Kit, who was being very ambiguous about what she was to speak about or for how long. She sighed and texted, Can’t do this if you don’t help me prep.
Kit’s response was almost immediate. Forget that! You have a ship name!
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Elizabeth said aloud, and shook her head when Will glanced over. What is it?
Darben. It’s kind of stupid, but you’ve been shipped!
“Really?” she asked.
“Are you talking to me?” Will asked abruptly.
“No,” she said brusquely, catching just a glimpse of him rolling his eyes as she texted back, So . . .do I have to ask?
How can you not know what a ship is?
Of course she knew, but baiting Kit was fun.
“Elizabeth, it’s rude to talk to yourself when someone else is in the room,” Will grumbled. She grinned at him and bounced over to give him another quick kiss before typing a reply to Kit. Ummm, the thing that floats on water?
Her sister’s response was to send a flurry of conflicting emoticons. Elizabeth laughed lightly. Will tossed up his hands and left the kitchen.
Confused, Kit.
She could feel Kit’s frustration through the phone. OMG. RelationSHIP. Combined names. Shipped.
She decided to help her sister out a bit. I saw Darnet this morning. Is that what you mean? Why wasn’t her last name ever the first one? BenDar? Whoa. That was terrible. Bency sounded like a dog. Yeah, okay, maybe using Darcy first was better.
Oh, that’s great! Apparently, Kit was easily placated.
Why? Elizabeth was honestly confused by this—one dumb name was as good or bad as the others, wasn’t it? Both of them were better than “the Zs,” which she’d also seen. It couldn’t be that unusual for both members of a couple to have a Z in their name.
Darnet, Dark Net—that’s good for you, right? Lots of wordplay with that one.
Elizabeth just shook her head and typed . . .?
O.M.G. Never mind. B spontaneous. There was a slight pause, and then Kit send another message. They’ll ask about Marines.
Elizabeth groaned. Kit, just call me.
I h8 talking on the phone. Why can’t we text?
Because this isn’t working! She wandered out to the living room and plopped on the couch. She looked at Will. “It takes two seconds to take care of this with a phone conversation. Why does she insist on texting?”
Will shrugged and glanced at his watch. As if she could hear them, Kit’s reply was announced with a ping.
Lizzy, u r 2 young to be so OLD!!!!!
Will heard Elizabeth’s foot starting to tap on the floor. It wasn’t the cheerful tapping she employed when engaged in a good meal. He was sure it was annoyance tapping. He added that to his ever-growing list of Elizabeth’s habits. She has different taps. Too bad I never learned Morse code.
She was speaking now. “Kit Bennet, pick up this phone.” There was a pause. “Okay then, you can forget about tomorrow.” She en
ded the call and looked at him. “I give her fifteen seconds . . .”
The phone rang. Elizabeth started asking a series of rapid-fire questions while she paced. It seemed as if she’d be a while, so Will wandered out towards his office to check his email. As much as he was enjoying being away from FORGE, he was worried about how much work was piling up awaiting his return. He thought back over the last ten days and smiled softly. I wouldn’t give up this time for anything. He couldn’t remember when he’d had so few obligations, when he could simply enjoy himself. Never, he told himself. Not as an adult. And it hadn’t just been the vacation. It had been the company of the effervescent Elizabeth Bennet, who made everything interesting, everything a celebration. She was so eager to see and try new things. She’d dared him to race to the top of the wall at The Cliffs and had beaten him handily. He grinned to himself. Why would he want to beat her to the top when the view from below was so much more appealing?
She’d stood in front of the arrivals book on display at Ellis Island reading the names.
“Can you imagine,” she’d asked, awestruck, “being willing to start all over, take a dangerous sea voyage to an entirely new country? Having to learn a new language and all-new customs?”
“Not everyone was welcome here,” he’d reminded her. “There was definitely a hierarchy of desirable immigrants versus undesirable ones.”
She’d stared at him, her hands making their way to her hips. “The implementation was flawed, I’ll grant you that. But there’s nothing wrong with the ideals. The tablet Lady Liberty holds is inscribed with a sonnet welcoming refugees from all over the world, written by a Jew named Lazarus?” She’d told him firmly, “That’s my America.”
He’d been a bit surprised when she’d insisted on a trip to the New York Public Library, though he didn’t mind. He’d spent many happy hours there as a child, and even now he’d visit when he could. They were the only ones signed up for a private tour, and Elizabeth had asked question after question about the collections, the history, the building. He’d thought the docent would get tired of answering, but the spry, rather elderly man who’d once been a librarian in the rare books room seemed to grow more enthusiastic with each new inquiry. She was disappointed to discover that she couldn’t get a library card since she lived in New Jersey.
“I’ll check out books for you,” he said. He winked at her. “As long as you promise not to lose them.”
“I will pretend I did not hear that,” the docent said pleasantly. “It’s clearly against the rules.” He turned and made a show of walking away.
Elizabeth watched him go before facing Will. “Rebel.”
He shrugged. “You only think you know me . . .”
She shook her head. “No kidding. You have a card to a public library?” Her lips quirked just a bit, and he recognized the teasing lilt of her voice.
“Weren’t you listening?” he replied. “This isn’t just any public library. It was established by one of the richest men in the city at the time and was founded in part with Astor’s collection. It passes the blue blood test.” He would have straightened his tie had he been wearing one.
She hadn’t laughed, but she had rewarded the attempt with a warm smile and a shake of her head.
Elizabeth was endlessly curious and highly intelligent. She was also a bit of a conundrum for him: tough, independent, yet at moments, intensely vulnerable. And for some reason, she trusted him enough to let him see it. Loved him, in fact. Not his money, which she found oddly off-putting. He smiled to himself.
She was entirely unlike the kind of woman his parents would have hoped he’d marry. His lips twisted in a grimace. Dad would have had something horrible to say about a woman being a Marine, no doubt. Mom would have wondered about her family situation. Regardless, he wished they were both here to ask questions about Elizabeth or argue with him about his choice.
He was sure his mother would have adored Elizabeth after a single meeting. His father would have resisted longer, but Will was certain she would have eventually won him over. He’d have respected her strength and discipline, at least. Will leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to feel the pain of everything his parents had missed in the last five years, everything he and Georgiana had missed by losing them. Other than caring for his sister and developing FORGE, he’d only been going through the motions for a long time. He hadn’t thought it possible to be so content, to be this happy again. But he was. And as he gazed out the window at a clear blue sky and thought about Elizabeth, that old aching loss didn’t hurt quite as much.
Elizabeth tugged nervously at her cuffs as she awaited her turn on the stage. She was last on the program and standing around waiting was not helping her settle. She glanced at her cards, but it was dark backstage, so she straightened up and took a deep breath through her nose, taking in the odors of sweat and peeling paint and leftover lunch food. Kit had teased her about being old, but being here made her feel positively ancient, as though it had been twenty years since her own high school days rather than six. Her anxiety wasn’t for herself, though. Rather, she had an increasing fear of embarrassing her sisters. In public, at least. She wanted them to be proud of her the way she was proud of them.
At last, she heard her name being announced and with a deep breath, she walked stiffly out to the microphone, glad to see that the natural daylight filtering into the room meant that she would not be under a spotlight. The previous speaker had been several inches shorter, and as she adjusted the height of the stand, she saw hands being raised.
“I believe I’m to speak first, but I’m happy to take questions after,” she said pleasantly, listening to the reassuring echo of her voice as it was magnified. This statement simply resulted in more hands going up. She shuffled her cards and then spied Kit sitting in the front row. “Kit, do you care?”
Kit stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth, calling up to her sister, “Everyone knows what you do already, Lizzy. It’s okay if you want to skip the boring part.”
Elizabeth glanced into the wings where the organizing teacher was standing. She raised an eyebrow, and the teacher, a small, delicate woman wearing a yellow sundress and blue cardigan, just shrugged.
“Um, okay then,” she said after briefly introducing herself, “have at it.” She stowed her cards away. “Kit, do you want to call on them one at a time?”
Kit’s eyes lit up, and she nodded. Elizabeth noted that Kit had dressed up for the day in high-waisted black trousers with black kitten heels and a red long-sleeved blouse. She took in the bright red lipstick and the forties hairstyle. She’s really a lovely girl. An image of Kit in her red rainboots and yellow slicker flashed in her mind. Lydia had always had enthusiasm; Kit had always had style.
The first question came, and it was one she’d expected. A large boy, nearly six feet tall with black hair that fell over his collar and into his eyes, stood, his arms crossed over his wide chest, and asked, “Have you ever killed anyone?”
Having suspected she might be asked this question didn’t make it any easier to face. “Wow,” she replied, “right out of the gate.” She met the boy’s challenging gaze straight-on. “Yes,” she said bluntly.
When it became clear that there would be no explanation, the audience tittered.
The boy sat. Elizabeth returned her attention to the rest of the audience. “I think most of you have read about what happened in Brussels. Technically, I did not kill anyone in my capacity as a Marine because I was off-duty at the time. I was not armed and was not in uniform.” She rocked up on her toes and down again. “However, anyone who joins the military, in any capacity, needs to be clear on one thing. No matter what song they sing you about being able to go to college or about learning skills that will help you get a job when you separate, you are signing on for a job where you may have to kill people. That’s the long and the short of it.” She stared straight ahead, unapologetic. “And you should all be grateful there are people who will take that job so you don’t have to.”
Kit’s face matched the red of her blouse as she chose another student. She anxiously met her sister’s gaze and was relieved when Elizabeth winked at her.
“I noticed,” another young man said, “that you are wearing the insignia of a staff sergeant. The newspapers said you were a sergeant, though, and you didn’t introduce yourself with your rank. Which is it?”
Elizabeth grinned. “Good catch. There are a lot of different kinds of sergeants in the Marines. And, as I’m sure all your teachers will tell you, from time to time, newspapers have been known to be wrong.” There was scattered laughter. “When I separated from the Marines, I was Staff Sergeant Bennet. It’s sort of the first rung on the ladder of a non-commissioned officer.”
“Why did you leave the Marines?” shouted a boy from the back without waiting to be called on.
“Because I’d finished what I wanted to do there,” Elizabeth replied honestly. “It was time to get back to my sisters.”
Kit smiled, and Elizabeth finally caught sight of Lydia, near the back with the other sophomores. She started. Lydia had dyed her hair almost black. Elizabeth raised her hand slightly, and Lydia waved back with vigor, her face beaming.
Kit chose a girl this time, who asked a question about the physical requirements of boot camp, and then a second girl stepped into the center aisle. This one had long blonde hair and was wearing a purple miniskirt. She teetered on thick platform shoes like Lydia’s.
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