by Kaylea Cross
Ella drew Walter closer to her, watching Aidan warily.
Smart lass. He liked that she was being cautious. “Hang on.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Beckett. “I’m here with your neighbor, Ella,” he said on speaker. “Can you verify who I am for her?”
“Sure. Hey, Ella,” Beckett said, and Ella visibly brightened at the sound of his voice.
“Hi, Mr. Beckett.”
“This is my friend Aidan. You’re safe with him, I promise. Okay?”
Ella’s shoulders relaxed and her sigh seemed full of relief. “Okay.”
“Thanks, mate. We’ll take care of Walter.” Aidan ended the call, already charmed by the lass. “Well then, what do you think? Can I walk with you and Walter down to your place?”
“Yes,” she said softly, and led Walter toward him.
Aidan made sure to keep a careful distance from her as they walked down the lane. Walter took his sweet time, his long, low-rider body waddling with each step.
“I think I just saw a slug pass us,” Aidan said a few minutes later.
Ella looked up at him in surprise, then burst into laughter, making him smile. “It must have been a really fast one.”
“No, I’m sure this one was just a regular slug. Do you have racing slugs here?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Ah. We do in Scotland.” He nodded at Walter. “I never knew a dog could walk this slowly.”
A happy tinkle of laughter answered him. “You’re funny, Mr. Aidan.”
Ah, damn. No wonder this wee one had Beckett curled right around her finger. “Aidan’s fine. Or Mac.”
“Mac?”
“My last name’s MacIntyre. People shorten it to Mac.”
“Well, do you like Mac better, or Aidan?”
He had to smile. “I like both. You decide what you’d like to call me.”
“Okay.”
After the longest mile he’d ever walked, even longer than when he’d carried an eighty-pound rucksack through the Hindu Kush Mountains in the middle of winter, they finally reached the craftsman-style bungalow set into a wooded lot at the end of the lane. “At last. I can’t believe we made it.”
Ella giggled and started up the wooden steps to the porch, then stopped and turned to hand him Walter’s leash. A good thing, since the animal had put on the emergency brake at the bottom of them, his red-rimmed eyes staring up at Aidan in defiance. “Maybe he’ll be faster on the way back,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the porch light. “Maybe he’ll pass the slug this time.”
“I wouldnae get your hopes up, Ella. It’s uphill.”
She laughed again, breaking off when the front door swung open.
The smile froze on Aidan’s face and his mind went completely, utterly blank.
A woman with fiery red hair that flowed in waves around her shoulders stood there wearing a loose-fitting, flowy white dress. She looked like an angel, illuminated by the lantern hanging from the porch—
Except for the cold look on her face. Her gaze sliced right to him, her mismatched eyes locking on his face, one hazel, the other green as the Highland hills.
Beautiful and unique. And clearly not happy to see him on her doorstep.
He shook himself out of his stupor and opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the woman darted out a hand to grab Ella’s shoulder and dragged her inside, bodily placing herself between him and her daughter. “Can I help you?” she said, her expression and tone frosty.
Her meaning couldn’t be clearer. To get near my daughter again you’ll have to come through me.
“He’s Mac,” Ella said before he could get a word out. “He’s friends with Mr. Beckett. Mr. Beckett asked him to come walk Walter because he didn’t hear back from you in time.”
“Oh.” Her expression thawed slightly, but only a bit. It was clear she didn’t trust him.
“Aidan,” he said, offering his hand.
“Tiana,” she answered, refusing the gesture by wrapping her arms about her middle and retreating back to her doorway where she stood there like a sentinel guarding her daughter. Everything about her stance broadcasted defensiveness and protectiveness. And that told him something really bad must have made her this way. “You’re walking Walter back, then?”
“Aye. It took us a while to get down here because of Walter’s short legs.”
“Mac said he saw a slug pass us on the way,” Ella said with a giggle.
Tiana smiled at the sound of her daughter’s laughter, but it faded as she faced him again. “Well. Thank you for seeing her home safely. Good night.” She started to close the door.
Her dismissal damn near made him grin, but he managed to mask it. “Of course. Good night, Ella.”
“Good night, Mac.”
Tiana was still watching him warily through the gap between the door and the jamb. “Nice to meet you, Tiana,” he said.
“You too.” Polite but cool. She ushered Ella back a step and swung the door shut without a backward glance. Before Aidan had even turned around, the deadbolt slid home in the lock.
He dragged an extremely reluctant Walter back up the lane, thinking about Tiana’s reaction to seeing him with Ella. There was a story there, he was certain of it. A bad one.
One more thing he was sure of: Beckett had been holding out on him. With a neighbor like that living just down the street, Aidan intended to find a lot more excuses to hang out at Beckett’s place in the near future.
Chapter Seventeen
Jase rode shotgun in an armor-plated Humvee, fifth in line in the convoy headed north to Kandahar. A familiar sense of dread filled him as he took in their surroundings. Small villages full of mud brick buildings in the same, flat dun color as everything else out here in the southern part of Afghanistan.
In the dream, he was aware of an intensifying feeling of foreboding as they drove along. A sense that he knew what was about to happen. Something terrible he needed to stop.
The streets were empty. Normally they traveled at night, because the daytime was far more dangerous. He couldn’t see anyone watching them from the windows or walls they passed, but he could feel them, and they were definitely watching.
Up ahead, the road curved slightly, following a shallow drainage ditch.
Stop.
The command was loud and urgent in his head. If they didn’t stop something awful was going to happen.
They drove closer, the warning turning into a scream in his mind. “Stop!” he shouted to the driver.
Too late.
A remote-detonated IED exploded a few vehicles ahead. Jase grunted as the concussive wave ripped through his body. Up the convoy, the damaged Humvee was on fire.
Carter.
No! He threw open his door and ran, his M4 in his hands. Men were screaming as they burned in the flames. The heat seared his face as he neared it, his heart in his throat.
Carter was trapped in the back. He was unconscious, his face and chest covered in blood.
Jase wrenched the bent back door open and reached in, grabbing his best friend. “Carter. Carter, man, wake up.”
Jase dragged him out, away from the flames, and settled him a safe distance away, his weapon at the ready as he got on the radio to call for a medevac. Blood leaked out of Carter’s nose, signaling a facial or skull fracture. When Jase looked up, Beckett was running toward them.
Jase ripped off his gloves and checked Carter’s vitals, fighting back the anguish inside him. “Hey. Come on, you big bastard, open your eyes and look at me.”
He jumped when those nearly black eyes popped open to stare up at him. Not groggy or blank with confusion and pain.
No, they burned with rage and accusation that seared him to the bone.
“You turned your back on me,” Carter rasped out while blood ran down his face into his thick, dark beard. “You deserted me and left me to die alone. And then you stole my wife.” He bared his teeth, smeared with blood. “You swore to me you’d look after her, but instead you stole her because
I’m dead and you couldn’t have her when I was alive!”
Jase jerked awake, his heart thundering in his chest and his skin coated in a film of sweat. “Shit,” he breathed, dragging a hand over his damp face. He’d been so wiped he’d given in and taken a nap. Bad idea.
He couldn’t get Carter’s face out of his head. Or those damning words.
Didn’t matter if it had only been a dream or that Jase definitely hadn’t stolen Molly. The sentiment behind them was true enough.
If he could have stolen her, he would have. Instead, they’d barely had a handful of conversations over two minutes long since she’d been back. And when they did cross paths, it was almost always small talk or something about the house or her security situation.
Shit. Was this ever going to get any easier?
His conscience continued to torture him about the fight he and Carter had had the night he died, and now that she was getting the money, the new intel about Molly’s stalker made Jase’s blood run cold. How Carter had gotten tangled up with the Russian fucking mafia Jase would never know, and one of its most lethal enforcers was after Molly to get the money back.
Jase was sick about it, and thankful that Beckett, Noah and Aidan had stepped up to help him guard her. She had protection everywhere she went, even work, because she was surrounded by people. Sometimes he thought it would be better to have her just hand over the money to make this all go away, but that was dangerous in its own right. If she paid it, other people might come looking for money too.
For the moment the only actions they could take were increased vigilance and more precautions. She couldn’t stay here at the house anymore, even with him here. There was too high a chance someone could have tracked her here.
As a result, right now she was shuttling back and forth between Beckett’s, Noah’s and Aidan’s places in the hopes of keeping her location hidden in case anyone came looking for her again, and he and the guys were taking turns driving her wherever she needed to go. Even though they still talked every day on the phone, Jase missed her like hell, but there was no help for it.
He stumbled to the bathroom for a long, hot shower, ate, and then texted Mac to invite him over. He’d wanted to see Jase’s baby and Jase wanted to work on her for a few hours before they had to leave for the rehearsal. And after that nightmare he needed someone else around to help take his mind off it.
“You’re sure that thing is gonna run when you’re finished with it?” Mac asked in the garage twenty minutes later.
One hand braced on the opposite side of the old hood, Jase tightened a bolt on the engine block, not bothered by Mac’s skeptical tone. “Positive. Can you hand me that 3/8 inch?”
The wrench landed in his upturned palm a second later. “Thanks. Hey, you’re pretty handy to have around.”
“I try.” Mac leaned his hands on the other side of the hood to take a look at what Jase was doing. “I never knew you were into restoring old cars.”
“For years. Just barely ever get the time to work on this old gal.” That was one perk of being home a lot recently. He’d been spending more and more time on her over the past few weeks, since Molly had left for North Carolina. With the house all finished up, he’d needed a project to keep him busy, otherwise it gave him too much time to think.
The house felt empty without Molly here, but her safety was the most important thing and the current situation gave him more time to heal up.
“How old is she?” Mac asked.
“Rolled off the assembly line in ’32.”
“She looks it.”
“She’ll look brand new once I’m done with her.” Jase handed the wrench back and grabbed a rag from his hip pocket to wipe his hands. “Had this baby shipped out from Nebraska when I moved here.”
“She’s sentimental for you.”
“Yep. Belonged to my grandpa. We used to work on it together on the weekends whenever I was back home between deployments. Built this beauty from the frame up.”
Mac eyed the car doubtfully. “Brilliant.” He straightened. “So, this is what you do in your spare time, then?”
“When I can. She’s getting closer to being ready to hit the road. The engine’s nearly done. All she needs is some new brakes and lines, some detail work, and a pretty paint job.”
“Ah, you’re as talented with cars as you are with weapons and spreadsheets, then. Good to know. Tell me the truth, though. Do you miss it? Because I do.”
Jase didn’t pretend to misunderstand that he meant the Army. “Sometimes. As messed up as that sounds.”
“Naw, I get it.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d miss it, to be honest. At the end of my last tour I swore I was done with that life forever. But it gets in a man’s blood. The lifestyle. The brotherhood.”
“I know.” The brotherhood especially. “That’s why I’m here with Beck, pushing papers around on a desk instead of hunting insurgents and freezing my ass off in the mountains overseas somewhere.”
“You ever think of going back? As a contractor?”
“I’ve thought about it.” He was seriously contemplating it right now, the job offer with the security company back east still on the table. “I’m good where I am for now, but I’m not sure if I can do this long term.” The job, the living situation, and constantly being around Molly.
“Aye. We miss the action.”
Jase nodded. “Yeah. And the money in private contracting’s hard to pass up.”
“It is.”
“Why’d you quit? I thought you were going to do it until you retired.”
He made a face. “Burned out, plain and simple. I saw too many screw-ups on jobs. People got hurt or killed when they didn’t have to. Beckett’s offer came at the perfect moment.”
Jase nodded, thinking about his own situation. Did he really want to go back to that life and take a job as a security contractor? Dignitary protection and security details in dangerous parts of third world countries. In places he never wanted to set foot in again.
Or was he considering it merely as a way to finally get free of Molly and the hold she had over him? “You planning to stay here long term?”
“Not sure. My work visa’s up in April. I’ve applied for an extension, but no guarantees it’ll go through. No point staying here if I can’t work. I’ve been offered a security contract overseas by a mate of mine if I can’t get the extension.”
Jase understood completely. But he’d hate to see Mac go.
“Well, you’d best get cleaned up and wash that grease off your hands. Don’t want to be getting that all over the tea sandwiches,” Mac said.
Jase glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was getting close to the time he needed to leave for the rehearsal dinner at Beckett and Sierra’s. “Right.”
Mac followed him there and walked up to the house with him. “You bringing a date to the wedding, by the way?” he asked.
“No, but I’m going out with Lauren after.” Bringing her to a wedding might make things seem more serious than they were, and he didn’t want that. But he needed a shove to push him forward, and he liked Lauren. “You?”
“Had one lined up, but she canceled.” He glanced at Jase, his warm brown eyes glinting with humor. “I’m looking forward to meeting this friend of yours. Think she has a thing for Scotsmen?”
He chuckled. “She might.”
Mac lifted an eyebrow, and Jase realized he’d given the answer easily and without thinking—or feeling even a twinge of jealousy or territoriality about another guy potentially honing in on her.
So much for getting over Molly anytime soon.
A row of cars was parked up and down Salt Spray Lane when they arrived. The moment they walked in the door, Poppy bustled by with a tray in her hand. “Sausage pinwheel?”
“I’ll take some of those,” Jase said, snagging four and putting them on a napkin, bracing for the moment when he saw Molly.
“Hey, leave some for the rest of us,” Mac complained, snatching a few from t
he tray before they were all gone.
Jase felt Molly’s presence before he saw her. A subtle change in the air that sent a prickle of awareness through him. He glanced over his shoulder, his abs contracting as though to protect himself from an invisible blow.
She was more beautiful than ever in a simple knee-length dress that outlined the swell of her breasts and the mound of her growing belly.
If he’d thought more time away from her would do anything to change his feelings or attraction to her, he was sadly fucking mistaken. The yearning that punched through him was so strong it pushed the breath from his lungs and made his heart seize.
Look at me. God dammit, look at me the way you did that night.
The night he’d tasted those sweet lips and felt the imprint of her lush body against his. The night when, for just a few moments, all his dreams still might have come true. They were seared into his memory for all time.
As if she felt the weight of his stare, she looked over. Their gazes locked from across the room, and for the life of him he couldn’t look away.
The tentative smile she gave him cut deep, reminding him of the invisible wall standing between them. A wall that in that moment, despite everything, he still wanted to obliterate.
Jase was aware of the all-too familiar pain spreading beneath his ribs. He didn’t want this. Wished he’d never given into the desperate need eating him alive and kissed her, pushed her to give him what he wanted. It would have been better to leave things as they used to be, back when she’d been oblivious to the depth of his feelings.
Except the damage was done and there was no going back, for either of them. There was only forward.
Dammit. He’d sworn to Carter that he would look after her. He couldn’t take having her wary and uncomfortable around him. And she was staying with Beckett and Sierra again tonight, so he wouldn’t get to see her.
He forced a smile and broke eye contact, chewed the suddenly tasteless mouthful of sausage pinwheel and forced it down his tight throat. He would always love her. That was his cross to bear.
****
