Footsteps came up the walkway behind me, trapping me between them and the woman at the door. I looked back over my shoulder into the pale face of a man I recognized at once.
My throat closed up, preventing me from breaking the tense silence. He looked at me curiously. I thought I saw a hint of recognition on his face, but that was probably just wishful thinking. He didn't even know I existed.
There was a younger man with him, who was looking around in confusion. He pushed his long dark hair behind his ears and fixed beautiful emerald eyes on me.
“Hello there.” His Australian accent snapped me out of my stupor, and I turned my gaze to him. “I don't know what is going on, but this is awkward. So, since boss-man here has forgotten his manners, allow me to introduce myself.” He held out his hand, and I placed mine in it, jumping when he kissed it. “The name is Dylan. I'm one of Mr. Hendrick's technical advisers.” He looked toward his boss. “Okay, I'm a surf double, but working my way into the production side of things.”
I took my hand back. “My name is California McCoy, and my mother was Emma Bay.” I hadn't meant to just blurt it out, but couldn't keep it in any longer.
Dylan's mouth hung open in shock. “Rack off. Emma Bay. Wasn't she the one who…” One look at the man beside him shut him up.
My dad - for lack of a better name - looked lost, but the woman put a hand on my shoulder.
“Let the child speak,” she said, a gleam in her eye. “You were about to tell us that you're my granddaughter, I believe.”
She took my arm, leading me into the house with the two men following. Explanation escaped me.
“How?” I asked.
“I knew your mother was pregnant when she left.”
That confession finally got my father's attention. He turned hard eyes on his mother who held up her hands in surrender.
“I couldn't have your father finding out,” she explained. “It was better for the child this way and for that sweet, sweet Emma.”
At her name, my father sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands. I watched the man who'd fathered me. His mouth opened and then shut again.
The house seemed even bigger on the inside. High ceilings enlarged the rooms. A glass staircase stood on the other end near a fireplace covered in marble.
I turned when I realized the woman was speaking. “I'm your grandmother Laura,” she said. “My son seems to have forgotten how to use the English language, but finding out about a daughter will do that to you.”
“And a son,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands. “I have a twin brother.”
She smiled. “I have wanted grandchildren for a very long time. You know, I used to imagine meeting you. I was very fond of your mother.”
“Your mother.” My father finally looked up, his eyes red. “Did she send you?”
Tears came to my eyes, unwelcome, and I shook my head. “Mom died six years ago. Our Aunt Kat has been taking care of us.”
His shoulders dropped, and the look that crossed his face nearly broke me in two. I couldn't take it any longer. The breath wheezed from my lungs as the tension squeezed all life from the room.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “This was a mistake.”
Tears streamed down my face as I bolted toward the door. I didn't know what I'd been searching for, but it wasn't this. I didn't want to bring the anguish of my mother's death onto anyone else. That was my burden. It belonged to me and my brother, not this man I didn't know.
I was out the door before Dylan caught up with me. “You can't just go.”
I wiped an arm across my face. “What do you want from me?”
“You obviously came here for a reason.” He grasped my arm, refusing to let me go. “Your… dad,” he paused, “is a good man. He's in shock right now. You have to cut him some slack.”
“I know.” I hid my face in my hands. “I just…” A sob escaped me, and Dylan wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“Come back inside.”
I had no more fight left in me as he led me back up the steps to where Laura was standing. She took me in her arms. “It's okay, sweetheart. You're with family. You can cry.”
The dam broke and everything I'd felt about my father over the years poured out in a torrent of tears. He hadn't abandoned us. He hadn't left Mom. Even now, I saw it in his tear-stained face—he'd loved her. He still did.
I fingered the locket resting against my chest; the one Kat gave me for my birthday. Before I left, Kat told me that mom always planned on me finding out the truth when I was old enough. She knew I'd come. She wanted me to.
I turned toward the living room once again where my father now stood, his glistening cheeks matching mine. In this, we were together.
“California,” he said, his hands gripping each other in front of him. “You look just like her.”
I smiled at the best compliment he could have given me even as my eyes welled up again.
He looked to his mother helplessly. “Please don't cry again.”
“I don't know what I'm supposed to say,” I admitted. “I only planned the 'I'm your daughter part'.”
Dylan cleared his throat. “So, I take it we aren't surfing this afternoon?”
My father looked at him, then turned to me, a nervous twitch on his lips. “Do you surf?”
I grinned, wiping away the remaining tears. “Of course.” I met his eyes. “As you say, I am my mother's daughter.”
He laughed then, breaking all remaining tension and clapped his hands together, his face lit up with joy.
“To the beach?” Dylan asked.
“To the beach,” my dad responded, looking my way.
I nodded, knowing this was a language we both spoke. Surfing. It was a start. “Let's go.”
Flip the page for book two to see if Callie and Jamie get their happily ever after!
We Thought We Knew It All
Invincible (Book 2)
There is a calm in the middle of uncertainty;
A peace amid the storm.
At a time when knowledge guides,
And children grow
To realize what they’ve learned.
Through hardship
And trying times,
It was the people that we knew
Who gave love
And took love
That made our place
A home
1
Jamie
I ducked down low, hidden in a patch of trees off to the side of the road. Hartley flanked me on the right with Raddich on the left. The rest of the platoon wasn’t far behind, but we they’d catch up. The building across the street was our target.
We’d left our vehicles a little ways back, needing stealth to take us the rest of the way.
I looked to Hartley, her eyes signaling to me that she was in agreement. Raddich motioned us forward.
The dust kicked up under our feet as we sprinted into position. A simple snatch and grab. Our intelligence said he was alone, but that’d been hours ago, and he’d probably moved on by now.
I pressed myself up against the stone wall at my back and gripped my M4 tighter. Raddich, our team leader, nodded and ducked into the side door.
Gun fire erupted, shattering the silence of the night.
I ran in, followed by Hartley. Barely glancing up, I raised my gun and fired, hitting both shooters in quick succession. They dropped with loud yells, and I kept my gun trained on them until they no longer moved.
Hartley ran to Raddich, her med kit already in her hands. Blood gushed between her fingers as she put pressure on the wound in his abdomen.
“Crap.” I snapped to action. “I’ll search the rest of the house. Barrette and his crew should be here any second.”
They’d been held up at the last house we searched, sending us ahead to what was supposed to be a preliminary search before the full team arrived to do a sweep. We didn’t actually expect to find our target here anymore.
“Did you check them?” She nodded tow
ard the dead men nearby.
“Not him.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I snapped, turning to search another room. I couldn’t just sit there and watch a man die. Because that was happening. I’d seen enough bullet wounds to realize a hopeless case.
We’d been in Somalia for longer than anyone was comfortable with, and our mission still eluded us. It wore on all our nerves, and Raddich wasn’t our first loss. I had to steel myself. Hartley would be much better at comforting him than I would. She’d done it for me two years ago when I thought I was dead. Shaking my head, I realized the difference. I didn’t die.
Man, I was pathetic. I couldn’t even hold his hand, knowing how it’d haunt me later. They always haunted me.
“Clear,” I called back once I’d checked the last room. Mission still incomplete. Brother in arms dead.
Rangers lead the way. Well, not these Rangers.
Something fell to the ground in the front room, and I picked up my pace, bursting through the door just in time to witness the knife drag across Hartley’s throat.
What felt like a sledge hammer crashed into me from behind, and I was falling. My knees slammed into the dirt floor seconds before my face followed, and everything went dark.
My eyes popped open in the darkened room. Manner’s heavy snores sounded like a chainsaw as they came through the wall.
I lifted a heavy hand to rub my sweat-soaked face.
That dream was all wrong. Again.
Jessica Hartley died in Somalia one year ago. That was true. She wasn’t supposed to be in combat, and that would forever weigh on me. We were down a medic, and I’d let her climb into the truck back at base.
Her death didn’t make a difference. Our mission went unfinished when they pulled us out. We didn’t get our man, and none of us could forgive ourselves. Glenn Raddich had also died that day. A good man.
But I’d come home in one piece. The rest of the events of that day were still a blur. I remembered the rest of the team showing up and sounds of a firefight.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. There were six months separating that from the day I was taken in Nigeria. They shot me and held me for a total of ten hours before my brothers showed up to get my butt out of there. The medic who’d replaced Jess said it was just in time too, because I was bleeding like nobody’s business.
I hadn’t been sent on a mission since. Nerve damage.
The dream replayed in my mind as I tried to shut my eyes. It was my fault Jess was dead. Two years together and I got her killed. I let her come with us. We all did.
“Hell,” I grumbled, sitting up and swinging my legs out of bed.
Passing Manner’s room, I headed out into the common room where I found my platoon leader, Barrette.
His cropped black hair was pushed to the side, and his eyes were glazed. I blamed the bottle of tequila in front of him for that. He turned down the TV and looked at me.
“Couldn’t sleep, Daniels?” he asked.
I sank into a chair across from him and ran a hand over the top of my head. I’d never told the guys about my dreams. We all had our demons. It came with the territory.
“A lot on my mind.”
“There’s a cure for that.” He gestured to the bottle.
I chuckled with a forced smile. “What the hell? Tomorrow is an off day.”
“Exactly.”
Zane Barrette was hard as nails when it came to training and missions, but he was also a good buddy. Our entire platoon was close, but Zane was the best friend I’d had since… I shook my head. I stopped thinking about that years ago.
Taking the shot Zane was offering me, I threw it back and set the glass down for another. He smiled and poured. We’d spent many nights like this since our Somalia mission. Even though neither of us would admit it, we both blamed ourselves. He thought he should have been there sooner.
“My enlistment is almost up,” I said as if he didn’t know.
“Yeah?” He waited for me, and when I didn’t say anything, he asked, “what are you thinking?”
I raised my arm, flexing my fingers as best I could. “It’s only been six months.”
“But?”
Pain shot through my arm. Douchebag knew me too well.
I sighed. “It should be better than it is. Doc doesn’t think it will be. Too much damage.”
“Hmm…” He turned to the TV, his mouth suddenly going slack.
I followed his gaze, my eyes landing on my father’s face for the first time in ten years. Zane turned the volume up.
“Senator Daniels’ service will be held in Washington D.C. for close friends and family before a second service in his home town of Gulf City, Florida,” the reporter said.
“Service,” I croaked. “What the…?”
The broadcaster explained about the car accident that took Senator Daniels’ life the day before.
Barrette held out another shot, and I accepted it with shaking hands. It slid down my throat, the warmth keeping the ice out of my veins.
Feel something, dammit, I told myself. Be a normal human being. But I wasn’t normal. I was one messed up dude with daddy issues the size of Texas.
My father was dead, and I couldn’t seem to care.
Sergeant Carlson sat behind his desk with a face of stone. His eyes flicked up toward me, then to the empty chair nearby. A command.
I was a different man than I used to be. There weren’t many things that made me nervous. That office, that man, did.
I wiped my hands on my pants and sat down, keeping my back ramrod straight. Show no weakness. Have no fear. Barrette was in the habit of saying that before every mission.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father.” The sergeant folded his hands together on his desk.
I looked up in surprise, meeting his gaze.
“I don’t know if I ever told you, but I met your father when he came to the base after you were injured. Good man.”
My brain didn’t have time to dwell on the good man part because it’d frozen before that. “My father was here?”
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “He came to see me to get a report on your condition. Of course, I couldn’t tell him much since you were overseas, but I assumed he would contact you.”
“I don’t even know how he would’ve found out about it.” But I did. My father always seemed to be able to find any information he searched for. He was sneaky and smarmy enough to know everything.
My damaged hand spasmed, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. The stress made it worse, but I couldn’t let that show.
Sergeant Carlson looked away when my arm jerked against my side. He didn’t want to show that he saw. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
“Daniels,” he said, back to his commanding self. “I know today is difficult for you with your father’s death, but maybe this is a good time to re-evaluate.”
“Re-evaluate, sir?” I asked, prying my fingers flat against the palm of my other hand.
“Son, let’s cut to the chase. Your enlistment is almost up, and I can’t have you in my regiment any longer.”
“Sir-”
He put a hand up to stop me. “You are unfit for the kinds of missions I need to be sending my men on.”
I felt my posture slipping and snapped it back into place. I would not show that man just how right he was.
“I think you’re wrong, sir.”
“Of course you do, dammit. You wouldn’t be a Ranger if you weren’t willing to risk life and limb out there. But I am not sending a soldier into the lion’s den when he might not be able to hold his weapon.”
Each word he spoke was like another shot to the arm.
“We would have discharged you months ago, but doc was hopeful. Now he isn’t.” He stood up, walking around his desk to face me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Go home, son. Mourn your father. Be with your family. I’m putting you on leave for the last few weeks of your enlistment.”
H
e opened the door, nodding at me that I was dismissed.
As I walked back to my room, a million scenarios ran through my head showing why my dad would have come. Even in death he had a hold over me.
But it wasn’t because he was family. Never that.
Sergeant Carlson told me to go be with family, and I couldn’t help the feeling that I wasn’t moving toward it. I was leaving it behind.
2
Callie
“California R-McCoy here.” I mentally kicked myself for almost doing it again. California Ryan was another life.
“Ms. McCoy, this is Isabel Knight,” the voice on the other line said. “From A and P productions.”
Does that stand for arrogant and pushy? I wondered.
“Yes, I talked to someone from your studio yesterday.” I sat on the bed to pull on a pair of socks as someone banged on the door.
“Mom!” It was my middle kid, Liam.
“I want to talk about optioning your book.” The woman on the line wouldn’t quit.
“Are you coming out, Mom?” Liam yelled again.
I searched the floor for my shoes, wishing once again that I’d gotten the organization gene my brother had.
“Aha,” I mumbled to myself, finding a pair of sneakers.
“Mom.”
“Ms. McCoy.”
“Cal, you coming?” Of course, throw my father into the mix.
“Ms. Knight,” I said. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time. The rights to Emma are not for sale, and if they were, Hendrick’s productions would be first on the list. Have a good day.” I hung up and jammed the phone in my pocket before swinging open my door to find Liam and his younger brother, Declan, waiting.
“Hi, guys.” I ruffled Liam’s copper hair and swung Declan up into my arms. “What has grandpa made for breakfast?”
“Star Wars pancakes.” Liam’s smile widened, and my gut clenched. It was getting better, but Liam and Declan both looked so much like their father - perpetually tanned skin, copper hair, and deep mesmerizing green eyes. Jackson, the oldest, was more like me in every aspect.
Invincible- The Complete Set Page 21
