by Em Petrova
“Jesus Christ.” Jess’s oath filled Shaw’s ear. “Who the fuck’s in the place? The amount of explosive here, someone wants him not only dead but his DNA wiped off the planet.”
“Cav, Jess, Lennon, take care of it. I’m going to meet up with Woody and Linc to find out,” Nash said.
Ten tense minutes later, they’d flushed out one more shooter. Nash hovered over the disarmed man, his boot pinning him firmly to the patterned carpet of what appeared to be a law firm.
Each question he fired at the man had him turning more purple with rage, but he refused to loosen his lips and talk.
“He’s no good to us. Finish him off,” Shaw drawled, turning away from the scene.
His bluff had the guy squeaking out, “Wait!”
It took a bit more coercing from Nash in the form of a stomp to the balls and a broken nose, but the information they received was exactly what they were looking for.
Shaw stared at Nash as he spoke to the others. “Seems like we’re about to be heroes, boys. We just pegged the goddamn nationalists who’ve been moving arms around to hate groups.” That kid in Mexico had been part of it too.
Shaw kept his weapon trained on the captive, who glared up at him defiantly. “Want me to watch this asshole while you go with Linc and find out who the target is?” he asked his captain.
Nash gave him a hard look, and it wasn’t until Shaw saw his captain’s eyes flicker with warning that Shaw realized he was in a rage.
“First lieutenant.” Nash’s use of Shaw’s title snapped his head up. “I got this guy covered. You go scope out the building.”
The rest of the mission blurred together as they searched the building and got the word from Cav that the explosive had been neutralized. The bomb squad was on their way in to remove it, and Shaw and Linc got all the workers inside the building rounded up and put into a few large rooms to be questioned.
Nash pulled his comms device out of his ear and gripped Shaw’s shoulder. “Look…”
Knowing exactly what he was about to say, Shaw cut him off. “I’ll go this time. I got it.”
Eyeing him, Nash gave a hard nod. Then he stuffed his communication device back into his ear.
Shaw couldn’t shake the image of that woman’s face shifting into the teen’s. Why the hell weren’t the other guys fighting some demon? They’d all made kill shots too.
Shaking his head, he moved out. His part of the job was done for one day and he could get on with his life.
Pressing his lips together, he followed the others out of the building, past the media and police barricade and to their SUV.
Fuck—had he really just told his captain that he’d find a head shrinker? If he didn’t, he’d risk losing it on the job worse than he already was.
* * * * *
“Dr. Franklin.”
Atalee looked up at the sound of her name to see her receptionist standing there holding a bundle of paperwork. She suppressed a groan, because her desk was already littered with things she’d barely glanced at but needed attention. So far, she was loving her new position with the VA hospital, but she was failing at staying organized.
She smiled at the receptionist, who’d been very welcoming with her so far. “Thank you. I’ll take them.” She got up and circled her desk to accept the stack of what was files and mail.
“These are your new cases for the week.”
“Thank you.”
The receptionist glanced at her desk. “Would you like me to file anything for you?”
Atalee gave her a smile of appreciation. “Not yet. I’ll let you know when I’ve tackled more of it.”
She breezed toward the door. “I’m only here until three today.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Atalee dropped the entire stack to her desk with the rest and let out a sigh. Since she was pretty well caught up on all the new patients she’d seen this week and she didn’t have another for an hour, she could take the opportunity to clean up her desk.
Setting her hands on her hips, she looked around. Where to begin?
Her first week on the staff of the social services department had been a whirlwind. Thrown directly into the job by landing in the ER with a patient within the first hour had not only wet her feet but dunked her completely. She’d been officially baptized, and all her caring instincts had instantly risen to the surface.
She looked forward to helping as many vets as possible. And with all the depression, traumas and mental health issues those who had fought for their country dealt with, she was in the perfect position to help.
With an idea in mind of where to begin tackling her clutter, she dragged an extra chair toward the side of her desk and began sorting things into stacks—files, mail and items she wasn’t sure what to do with yet.
Halfway through, she unearthed her doctoral certificate matted in the expensive frame her mother had gifted her after she’d been given the honor. Touched once more, she looked around and discovered a nail in the wall behind her desk, left over from the former clinician who’d held this position.
After hanging her degree, she returned to her task. The first piece of mail she picked up had her stopping dead, her heart hammering in her chest.
Swallowing hard, she skimmed over the law firm on the return address. Her mouth dried out as she realized what she was holding.
Her final divorce decree.
Atalee set it aside for a moment. Then picked it up again. Guilt flooded in at the very sight of it—a failed marriage, that if she was honest with herself, she’d played an active role in ending.
She wouldn’t get anywhere by ignoring things. Don’t stuff it down, she often told past patients from the family practice she’d worked at for years while finishing her doctorate.
Biting the bullet, she tore open the envelope and withdrew the sheet of paper. A flick of a finger had her reading the words.
Quickly, she folded the paper and placed it back into the envelope. Yep, divorce decree. It was done—finally. After almost a year of waiting, painstakingly splitting her life apart from Johnny’s, she had freedom.
Too bad it didn’t relieve the guilt she bore. Since day one of their marriage, she’d had questions and a lot of what-ifs. What if she should have postponed the wedding? If she’d waited just another day, week, month, would things have worked out?
What if Shaw Woodward hadn’t barged in before her nuptials and said those things to her?
It was Shaw who had pushed over that domino that had begun the effect of unraveling her ties to Johnny. No, he hadn’t just tapped the domino—he’d shoved it with enough might to rock her world.
Many times she’d relieved those moments—so often she wasn’t certain anymore what she’d embellished in her mind or what was real.
She set the envelope on the desk in the only clean corner and stared at it a moment. I’m sorry, Johnny.
She was. But he’d done his fair share to ruin their relationship too. The times he shut her out completely, using passive aggressive actions to hold her at arms’ length. Still, she always wondered if that might have begun with her. After all, she’d kissed another man on her wedding day. And she’d listened to what Shaw had said about Johnny not being able to love her the way Shaw could.
Even now his deep voice reverberated inside her mind, raising goosebumps on her arms. She could still feel the stroke of his gaze and the hard way he’d held her against him right before he’d kissed her.
Whoooeee, had that man kissed her.
All virile strength, power and intensity rolled into a muscled Texas Ranger.
Before that moment, she’d never thought of Shaw as anything but Johnny’s friend who came around often enough that she considered him her friend too, and they invited him to barbecues and to root for their favorite baseball team.
But the minute he’d stumbled over that speech to her, telling her that she was marrying the wrong man and Shaw couldn’t let her walk down the aisle without knowing his feelings… her un
iverse had flipped on its side. She’d felt like a beetle pushed over, unable to find the ground beneath him and with legs churning helplessly.
The first weeks of her marriage, she’d probably spent too much time remembering how Shaw’s steely lips had felt across hers. Her energies should have gone into Johnny.
Sometimes, she stopped blaming herself enough to realize Johnny wasn’t the same man she’d met back while obtaining her master’s degree. He’d swept her off her feet, been attentive and they’d had a lot of fun together.
But had she actually married that man? Or had she just grown comfortable with him and spending five grand on a wedding dress seemingly the next step in life?
She didn’t realize she’d sorted through the entire pile of paperwork until her fingers brushed the wood top of her desk.
How was it that even two years later, Shaw could affect her so much? Her nipples were bunched up inside the silk cups of her bra and that low flutter was back in her belly.
She looked to the envelope, sitting all by itself on the desk. She was free.
Free to find Shaw if she wanted to.
It’s been two years. He’ll be married or in a relationship.
Suddenly tired by the thought, she sank to her desk chair and assessed not only the state of her desk but her life. Too bad having a doctorate in clinical psychology didn’t mean she had her own shit together. She supposed it was all a journey, though. As she assisted patients in resolving issues, she had a new venture to embark on as well, a chapter without a husband.
She needed to move forward without Shaw jumbling her thoughts too.
From now on, whenever she thought of the man, she’d control her physical response to the memory of that kiss. From now on, Shaw Woodward didn’t have a hold on her.
Chapter Two
Shaw tipped back his beer and watched as two of his teammates stepped up to the head of the lanes. He lowered his beer with a chuckle. “What the hell kind of form is that, Linc? You getting ready to walk the catwalk?”
“Shut up, Woody. I saw it on ESPN.”
Shaw, the rest of the guys and Nash’s fiancée Nevaeh broke out in laughter. Linc took a rapid approach and released the ball.
“Holy shit.” Nash stood and watched the ball rolling straight for the head pin. The crash of it striking—and wiping out—every pin had Linc turning to them with a smug expression and a middle finger in the air.
Shaw rubbed at the back of his stiff neck. “I take it back, man. Your new form is obviously working for you.”
Linc’s former bowling scores from their weekly gathering here at the Pins ’n Sins hadn’t been on the losing end of the spectrum, but the man was competitive enough to watch the most boring sport on ESPN to gather tips and tricks.
“I’m grabbin’ another beer. Anybody need one?” Nash looked to his pretty little woman, who was on her feet and rotating her ball to find the holes for her turn.
“I’m good.” She gave him the gentle smile of a woman in love.
“I’ll stay and watch you roll first, darlin’.” Nash raked his gaze over her figure in a way that had Shaw looking away. That it had been a hell of a long time since he’d bedded a woman cut a path of acute awareness through him.
When Nevaeh stepped into position to throw, Nash moved up behind her and clutched her by the waist, pulling her back against him as he lowered his mouth to her ear.
“Get a fucking room, guys,” Linc said with a rumble of a laugh.
“At least someone’s gettin’ some action,” Shaw drawled out.
Linc and Lennon gave him twin stares, their expression the identical one of shock. “You gotta get out more, bro,” Linc commented.
“Look.” Lennon pulled out his phone and drew up an app. With the swipe of a finger, five pretty girls were on the screen. Lennon passed a thumb over one image and then sat back against the hard plastic booth seating. “Easy as that.”
“Dude, that’s like shopping for a steak.”
“Easier.” Linc swigged his beer.
Nash threw them a glance and stepped away from his woman. She rolled a seven and got a round of applause for her improvement, as bowling wasn’t her forte. Nash brushed a kiss over her forehead and moved off to the Sin part of the Pins ’n Sins to get his beer.
Nevaeh came back to the seat, and Shaw gave her a high-five. She grinned and sank down with her beer.
“You’ve been practicing?” he asked.
“Nash and I have come here a few times, yeah.” She gave him a sidelong look. “Where have you been hiding yourself, Shaw?”
He suppressed a grunt.
Not her too. Nash was riding him enough about his current preference for going home alone. There was nothing written in stone saying a single man had to attend every party this side of the Mississippi and bang a new woman each night. What was wrong with hitting his recliner with the Rangers ball game on TV?
Nevaeh let it drop, thankfully, but it only made him think on how supportive she was to him and the rest of the Rangers Ops team. If she doled out kind words and pep talks to them, Nash must have the Holy Grail of support from her.
Shaw’s mind shot to Atalee.
Fuck, he hadn’t given her more than a passing moment of thought in so long, but her image leaped into his mind as if he’d just seen her the previous day. How those lush lips, honey-blonde hair and sea-green eyes never faded from his memory always shocked him.
On the heels of the shock—and a primal stirring of desire in his gut—was a healthy dose of regret.
He never should have said those things, and on her wedding day.
After all this time, he could still see that searing look of anger in her eyes. He didn’t know if she’d ever told Johnny about it or not, but Shaw hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. He’d never spoken to his friend again and transferred to another part of Texas with the Rangers. If that was being a coward, then he’d take the title without complaint.
The few times Shaw had allowed himself to think on Atalee, he’d wondered if she’d finished the degree that was so important to her and whether or not she and Johnny had popped out a kid by now.
That thought always got tucked away to a dark corner of his mind, where no sun could shine. Fact was, he could never be like Linc, swiping an app to hit up a girl later. Not when he was still as in love with Atalee as much as he’d been two years before.
“What are you doing later, Shaw?” Nevaeh’s words cut into his brooding moment.
He lifted his beer as a reflex, hiding his discomposure. After a sip, he lowered the bottle and shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe go for a run.”
“Your ass better hit that track, dude. You’re fallin’ behind me in sprinting drills.” Lennon’s remark brought a twinge of a smile to Shaw’s lips. The last two drills Nash had put them through, Shaw and Lennon had been neck and neck.
“You only won last time because your gigantic big toe went over the line first.”
Lennon didn’t seem to care. “A toe’s a toe.”
“Shaw, you’re up.” Cavanagh came back from rolling a spare.
“Hold my beer.” He passed it to Nevaeh with a grin and grabbed his ball. These times with the Ranger Ops team gave him a sense of family, and whether or not they knew it, he felt calmer afterward. The ghosts of what he’d done in Mexico to that teen didn’t seem to touch his life while in the Pins ’n Sins. Maybe it was the good company or the constant crash of balls that did the trick, but he was glad for the reprieve.
Soon enough he’d be back home with the constant weight of the situation bearing down on him. Only today might be different—after the incident in the office building, he’d seen no recourse but to find that therapist and get help. As captain, Nash couldn’t allow it to continue and would need to recommend he be let go from the team, and Shaw couldn’t imagine returning to the life of a Texas Ranger again. No, it was guts and glory for him now—his life as a Texas Ranger was over. Checking immigration papers and serving warrants seemed too tame for the
man he’d become.
A strange thought. Had he changed that much? He had.
He drew back his arm and released the ball, sending it whizzing down the slick floor toward the pins, barely registering the cheer that went up behind him as he knocked down all ten, leaving a gaping hole like a carnival clown game with missing teeth.
He put some extra swagger into his walk as he returned to the seat. Nevaeh high-fived him.
“You should let me make you an account on this app,” Linc said. “Bio—sharpshooter who’s good with his balls.”
That had them all roaring with laughter, and even Shaw couldn’t contain himself. The lighter moment chased thoughts of Mexico, and Atalee away too, thank God.
Nash returned with another round of beer for all of them. “This is just a warm-up for the whiskey I’ll be serving at my place.” He turned to Shaw. “Steaks and whiskey after this, man.”
“Thanks, but I gotta pass.”
Nash had become one of his closest buddies since they’d been sent to the Sabine River to neutralize a threat. That encounter had formed bonds between them that later had gotten them onto the brand-new special forces team formed by Operation Freedom Flag Southern US division, or OFFSUS.
Shaw gripped Nash’s shoulder. “I got someplace to be.”
“I hope it’s getting laid. Time to live up to your nickname of Woody,” Linc quipped from behind. He took another beer from the six-pack Nash held and sauntered over to the ball return.
“Wouldn’t you like to know more about that?” Shaw drawled with a flash of a grin.
Linc gave him the finger.
Nash looked to Shaw. “I hope it’s a good someplace.”
“Actually, I’m late and I don’t have time to finish my game. Nevaeh?” He looked around Nash to the pretty woman watching Linc’s catwalk pose again.
She looked up with a smile.
“Take over for me, doll.”
