by Geri Krotow
“Dad.” This wasn’t the place to have that discussion.
“Hey, sis.” Henry stepped forward, planting a kiss on her cheek, followed by Sonja, who handed her Will.
“We were so worried when we saw the video on the news,” Sonja gushed. “And to see you do those moves….”
“Way to go, Jena.” Brandon hugged her, followed by Poppy.
“How did you all know it was me?”
“Your profile. Poppy is a social media expert—she was able to compare it with the photo I have of all of us, from last year before you were deployed.”
“I knew it was you because I’m your mother, honey.” Gloria squeezed her arm.
“We’ll talk about it another time. Just let it drop for now, okay? I mean it.” She didn’t need the press trying to get an interview about the scary Jardin cartel or her part in bringing them down.
Jena looked around the airport, and continued to do so as they all began to walk toward the parking lot.
“He’s not here.” Brandon spoke quietly next to her.
She jerked her head and stared at him.
“Who?”
“Cut it, sis. Jeb. He said to tell you that you’ll know where to find him.”
Jena gulped. She knew Jeb had gotten her text from the flight—before she’d been detained for three additional days of testimony with TSA in Washington, D.C.—because he’d replied with an “ok.” But he’d ignored her follow-up texts and her calls over the last few days. She wondered if he’d even listened to her voicemails, which were increasingly desperate since she hadn’t heard back from him.
Where to meet him, though?
* * * *
Jeb waited on the lowest limb of the old, familiar oak. The tree was part of a wooded lot that backed up to a public park, a no-man’s-land between two long-standing homes with lots of acreage. What he’d taken for granted as a great place to play was a rare find. He was lucky to have grown up in the same neighborhood as the Boudreauxes, even if his mother’s house was basically a shack three blocks away.
He felt her close before he saw her slim figure appear through the overgrown trellis a couple hundred yards away. It’d always been this way. His heartbeat sped up, his stomach tingled with anticipation. And his dick—it did a hell of a lot more than tingle when he was near her.
She wore a long, gauzy skirt, and he grinned. She’d have to hike it up to climb, but it would prove most convenient for what he planned, what he hoped, would be the evening’s activity after they had “the talk.”
He figured there were three kinds of talks in life. The informative, revelatory kind, like when you told your kids exactly how they’d been created. Or when your mother told you she’d knock you upside your head if she ever had a hint that you drove drunk. The second kind of talk was never good; it involved a firing, or losing a job, something you’d worked your ass off for. The third kind of talk was far riskier, as murky as the bayou after a heavy rain, when the sediment had been stirred up and you had no warning before an alligator slid its nostrils above the surface. Talk number three could be a clarification before talk number two. It could be a clearing of the air, like after a loved one finally got sober and wanted to make amends, make sure they were accountable for all the harm they’d inflicted. He’d had that with his mother, after she got out of rehab.
Talk three could also be a precursor to some of the most pivotal moments in life. Whether to end a relationship gone stale or start it anew. Deciding if you were really on the right career path or maybe needed to quit, go back to school and start again.
Or. Jena closed in on the tree, and as their eyes met in the early evening light the same shock of connection hit him, warming his chest and wasting no time reaching his cock. It’d been like this since they were ten years old. Not the cock part—though that had come along as they’d matured and trusted one another with their first kiss, and, years later, their first time making love. He used to tell himself it was sex, but that lie’s power died the moment he read her text from Paraguay.
The sun cast a golden aura around her and he saw that her sleeveless top was as flimsy as her skirt, but instead of bleached white it was a soft rose, a shade lighter than her most intimate parts—parts he hoped to reacquaint himself with soon. But as with all talk number threes, there were no guarantees.
“Hi.” Jena’s voice, all silk and wonder, wrapped around him and he briefly considered chucking the talk and hauling her to him, kissing her, having her straddle him right here. They could work things out afterward.
“Hey, Jena.” No, he had to talk to her first. He checked her out, head to toe, relieved to not discover any new bruises or scars. “I see you’re no worse for wear.”
“‘Wear’ is an understatement, right?” She kicked off her sandals and stepped up onto the thick bough. Her toes were painted pale pink, like her top, and he knew all he had to do was reach under her skirt to the apex of her legs to feel what he so very much missed.
He shifted on the bough, his erection too much of a distraction.
“Is it going to be a problem, all the media exposure? For your cover?”
She didn’t answer right away, but settled in next to him on the bough, not touching, but close enough that he felt her body’s heat and the constant sexual need between them. The bough was almost two feet wide, and their feet swung not more than six inches off the ground. The magic of the oak was that it gave the ambience of being high in the tree canopy without the inherent risk.
“I want to talk to you about that.”
“No. I get to talk first.” He leaned over slightly so that she’d look at him. Once he had those beautiful blue eyes on him, he spoke. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past week. First, I’m sorry I resigned the way I did. It was an asshole move, and you didn’t deserve to find out with a letter. I owed it to you to tell you in person.”
“Thank you.” She opened her mouth to say more, but he held up a finger, halting her.
“Second, unless I’m even more of an obtuse jerk than I think I am, you have demonstrated beyond measure that you’re committed to us.” He saw her eyes get watery, but he kept going. He had to, before he took her in his arms and kissed her until she begged him for more. “We didn’t talk about it, but the very fact that you took on your father’s project, came with me to meet my family, and still wanted to be with me—it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. And I want to give you the trust you’ve given me, Jena. I don’t care if you want to stay with the CIA for another year or thirty years. It’s who you are, and no matter how much I think it’ll kill me with worry, I can’t take that from you.”
The tears trickled down her cheeks, and from the way the sun hit them they looked like perfectly round, iridescent pearls. Her eyes became a brighter blue, and he reached over and allowed himself to touch her enough to wipe the tears away. “Don’t cry, babe.”
She sniffled. “I’ll do whatever I need to.” She nuzzled her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes. The weight of her head in his palm couldn’t have been more tender. After a second or two, her eyes popped open and she fixed him with her trademark stare. “Is there anything else you want to say right now?”
He shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait. Your turn.”
“Why didn’t you answer any of my texts or pick up your damned phone all week?”
“Pride. Heartbreak. Wanting to make this moment all the more special by waiting.”
Jena’s mouth dropped open, her expression slack. “Well, that’s anticlimactic.” She looked out past the tree and into the woods beyond. Her profile was the perfect intersection of femininity and fierce female passion.
“I’m so glad that you accept my life as an agent, because it means you accept all of me. No one’s ever done that before.” She kicked her feet, swinging them as she’d done thousands of times with him. “But it’s not necessary
. I meant it when I told you I was done with that part of my life. I had to go back for out-processing this time, to pick up my official discharge papers. It was only supposed to be for a day. I had no idea I’d been targeted by Jardin’s thugs.”
“What about for the future? Are you worried they’ll come for you here?” Because he sure as hell was. “I know I told you I’m a born and bred Louisianan and never want to leave, but I’ll make a new life with you wherever we have to go.”
“You will?” She started to cry again, and she swiped at her tears. “We don’t have to. That guy on the plane was the last in a long line of that cartel’s henchmen. Most were killed during the shootout that happened after you rescued me, or locked up. While it was a horrible, lethal group of thugs, that cartel wasn’t as far-reaching as it liked to think it was.”
“I still think going away for a while would be a good idea. Does the CIA offer you some kind of temporary witness protection?”
She shook her head. “Trust me, Jeb. I’m safe from the cartel. They’re a done deal. And…” Her hand disappeared into the folds of her skirt, into a pocket he hadn’t noticed. “Here.” She pulled her hand out, holding a slim, black wallet. “Take it. It’s yours now.”
He took the soft leather and opened it, seeing her agency identification on the left side and a blank right side. “I don’t get it. Where’s your badge?”
“I never carried a badge while working as a case officer. The one I was issued stayed in my desk most of the time. But that’s the spot for it, and it’s not there because I had to turn it in as part of my out-processing. I’m officially done. No more security clearances, no more ‘Navy’ deployments.” She made air quotes when she said “Navy.”
The air left his lungs, and he fought against an explosion of joy in his chest. “You can’t do this because of me, Jena. I want you to be who you are, do what you want to do with your life. The thing is, I was never really upset that you were with any kind of law enforcement. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me that stung. I had to get over myself.”
“I couldn’t tell you, not unless we became—our relationship was more permanent. And when we agreed to be friends with benefits, I thought that was it, that you weren’t in the market for a girlfriend, much less a spouse.”
“Spouse?” He kept his expression straight. His restraint was paid off by her blush.
“I’d only be authorized to tell a life partner or husband about what my job was. And even then, details are never up for discussion.” She turned to him and grasped his hands. “I don’t think I ever made it clear enough that what I did, texting you when I realized I was in a life-threatening situation, was highly abnormal. I only did it as a last resort.”
“Is that what made you quit? Or did it get you fired?”
“Both. I knew the minute I picked up my phone to tell you I loved you, to ask you to tell the same to my parents, that it was a career-ender. I wouldn’t have done it, either, if I didn’t think it would save our other team members from the cartel without repercussions. I didn’t plan on you convincing me to tell you where I was. Or to show up with fifteen million dollars ready to go.”
“I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know you believed you were about to die. You’re the most loyal person I know. You wouldn’t have ever risked a mission to reach out. You’re a national hero.”
She shook her head, as he knew she would. “It was my job. I’m only glad it all worked out—my teammates made it. And we put the bad guys away, always a plus.”
“You’re going to miss it, Jena.”
“No, that’s just it, Jeb. I don’t, I won’t. All I’ve been focused on these past weeks is having my final debrief and saying farewell to my CIA career. It’s a younger person’s job.”
He laughed. “You’re twenty-nine.”
“Thirty next month, and you’ll be thirty-two. Yeah, we’re still young enough for a good life ahead of us, but it’s hard staying in that kind of shape. Mentally more than physically, to be honest.” She motioned at the identification wallet. “That’s all that’s left of my CIA life. It’s not classified that I worked for them, by the way. But some of my missions are.”
He fingered the laminated card, looking at her photograph. “You look so serious.”
“It was a serious vocation. It’s over. I don’t want to discuss it anymore, Jeb. And believe it or not, that’s not why I wanted you to come to my place when I sent that text.”
He was ready to listen to her, he’d said all he had to say. Except one thing.
“Before you go on, Jena, I have to tell you one more thing.”
* * * *
The light in Jeb’s rich brown eyes had nothing to do with the sun’s slanting rays as twilight drew close. Her center coiled into tight anticipation, and she couldn’t focus on one single emotion as joy mixed with hope and wrapped into the one constant that had always been there with Jeb.
Love.
“Don’t.” She placed her fingers on his lips, their soft, firm texture in deep contrast with his scratchy stubble. Desire swirled, made her stomach dip and her pussy wet. It had only ever been Jeb. “Not yet.”
His lips curved in a smile before he grabbed her hand and gave her a sweet kiss on her fingertips, his eyes never leaving hers.
She swallowed, aware of a heightened urgency to everything they shared while the soft blanket of impending nightfall wrapped around them, reassuring as only routine can be. Jena wanted it all with Jeb. The exciting, the daily, the routine.
“My plan was that I’d cook you the best meal I know how.” She fingered the white cotton of her skirt, the only way to keep her hands off him. “And no, before you ask, it wouldn’t be takeout, or even catered. I’d make you meatloaf, rice, crawfish.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“I know you like a wide variety of choices on the table. I’ve been watching you, Jeb DeVillier, from the day you ran into that backyard over there and rocked my world. You never turned down one of my mother’s buffets. Your favorite, real favorite, is fried chicken and cheese grits, but you like to eat healthy so you don’t do fried very often. Then I was going to pour you a nice cold beer, because I know you buy champagne and fancy wine for me but you don’t really care for it. You enjoy trying new beers at Abita’s but you’re happiest with a good lager. You’re a dog man, but you’d probably put up with a cat or two. And you never, ever hurt an animal on purpose. You don’t even like to fish, and while you do like crawdads, you don’t want to be the one to steam them.”
He’d gone still, and she knew she had his full attention. “You’re a stickler for tradition, but you’re a modern dude—you’d never tell me what to do with my life, my career choices.” Damn it, her eyes were burning again. To hell with it—it’s why she’d put on waterproof mascara and eyeliner. She let the tears fall, felt them drop off her jawline, and kept talking.
“While I appreciate that you had no problem if I wanted to stay with the agency, you didn’t have to.” She cupped his face. “Because I already knew it, babe. I feel you here.” She moved his hands to her heart, pressed them into her breast. “Feel that? It’s for you. My life, my heart, my love. It’s for you, Jeb.”
She watched him and waited for his response. It was okay with her if he wanted to stare at her, blink back a tear or two of his own. This was their time, and she’d waited her entire life to be here with him in this moment.
“You already told me that. I was the fool who didn’t accept it.”
“You were angry after Paraguay.”
“I was a jerk after Paraguay.”
Their laughter intermingled until, inevitably, Jeb stood and took her hand, pulled her up and to him.
In the quiet of the bayou setting sun, their hands touched as they smiled at one another like two fawning kids.
“I feel like we’re startin
g all over, but we have so much we’ve learned together.” Her voice caught with the depth of her emotion—her love for Jeb.
“We are starting over—in the best way.”
“You can finish what you wanted to say earlier.” She looked up at him. “But I want to say it first.”
“I love you, Jena.”
“I love you, Jeb.”
Their shared laughter at their familiar synchronicity cut off as their lips met. Jena wanted to pour everything she was feeling into this kiss. As Jeb’s tongue stroked deep inside her mouth, she knew he did, too. Desire rose swiftly between them, and her knees shook.
He let go of her hands and reached around her waist, pulled her up against him. She gasped as he bent his knees, making sure she felt the length of his arousal.
“Jena, I want to do this properly, in a bed, but it’s been too long.” She got it, got him. Days apart felt like years for them.
“We have our whole lives to be proper.” She pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to back up to the wide trunk of their tree, where they’d first climbed its strong limbs as kids, kissed, and lost their virginity. Today it offered them the same shelter from prying eyes, and nightfall provided the rest.
He kissed her until her head spun, then lifted her leg by leg until her limbs were wrapped around him. With her arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he turned and gently rested her up against the tree.
Jena’s need made her wild with lust, with love for this man. Her man. Her Jeb.
“Now, Jeb. Fuck me now. Please.” She licked, nipped his earlobe, trailed her tongue down his throat in the way she knew made him hard.
He braced himself with one hand on the trunk and reached between them, shoved her skirt up and aside, found the center of her spread legs. “Holy fuck, Jena, no panties?”
Her laughter vibrated in her throat and her toes curled as his fingers took advantage of her bare pussy. When he shoved his fingers inside her, found her walls slick with her need. He moved them until she cried out, begging for release. His thumb gently teased her clit and she wriggled against his hand, seeking relief from the deep ache of her need for him.
