by M. A. Grant
“Actually, I wouldn’t know. I never read any of them.” He didn’t bother to tell her all his actual mail was sent to a P.O. box under a different name to avoid the crazies.
Her smile was brittle. “I see.”
John tried to smooth things over. “I knew if I needed to get a hold of you, I could always call. Del likes taking matters into her own hands sometimes.”
Damn, he hated pretending to play nice. But if it helped John...He turned his body toward Delilah, although he avoided eye contact. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment. I just don’t consider myself a hero and try to avoid all the publicity. I want a normal life.”
“I hear you,” John said.
“Well, is there a better way of contacting you than through John?” Delilah asked. “If we need to send you any letters sometime soon?”
He understood the implication, but didn’t rise to the bait. “Line’s always open for John’s call. That’s enough.”
Delilah pouted at that. Before she could say anything else, John took her elbow and drew her to the side, his voice a low murmur. Zeke glanced around the restaurant, noticing several of the other diners looking his way after Delilah's less-than-subtle comment. A few people were even whispering to each other, probably trying to figure out why he looked familiar. Oh, God, he needed to get out of here. Screw making John happy, he couldn't handle this...
Vivian's hand slipped into his. She squeezed gently and he took a breath, focusing on her warmth, her skin's smoothness. She didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions—though God only knew she had a million—instead, she gave him her silent support.
It helped.
They stood together until John turned back and pulled out Delilah's chair, getting her to sit down before coming around the table to Zeke. "I'm sorry," his friend whispered. "I swear, sometimes it's like she doesn't even listen to me when I tell her the subject's off limits."
Zeke squeezed Vivian's hand. "It's okay. Look, can we just have a nice, quiet dinner and catch up?"
John nodded. Zeke helped Vivian into her chair and sat beside her, ignoring Delilah while he tried to pull himself together. He was torn between forging ahead and fleeing. He wanted to see John, to catch up with one of the people who could understand what he'd been through, but he dreaded having to explain himself to Viv. She'd said she felt safe with him, that she thought of him as her friend. Once she heard about his past, there was no way she'd ever feel that way about him again. And unfortunately, that discussion was probably going to occur sooner than he'd expected.
* * *
Dinner was a disaster, rapidly devolving into a cluster. Vivian could see it in the set of Zeke's shoulders, his clenched jaw. His obvious dislike of Delilah was understandable; she'd run into similar women before and knew their games. She loved a lot about her town, but the women vying for the titles of Real Housewives of Karim had always rubbed her wrong. No boundaries, no ability to read people. Too narcissistic to notice when they'd offended someone.
Even now, after finishing off the appetizers, the woman was still prying for information about Zeke's time in Syria. Granted, Vivian hadn't talked to him about it, but he'd made it clear he would only discuss the subject on his own terms. Delilah couldn't take the hint. Vivian wondered if somehow she was fishing for more information about John, details that she was too chicken to ask for herself. There wasn’t any other explanation for her curiosity. Meanwhile, poor John tried to play mediator between his friend and his lover and looked more and more miserable by the second.
With Zeke giving Delilah the silent treatment, Vivian decided to try to put John at ease. "So John, what do you do now?"
"I'm finishing up my degree," he said. "One benefit of serving, I guess."
"That's great. What have you been studying?"
He relaxed a little bit, eyes still darting back and forth between Zeke and Delilah, but less often than before. "Massage therapy. It's a little harder because of my injuries, but I'm interested in working with active soldiers and teaching them how to use the techniques when they're in the field."
She didn't have to fake a smile when she heard that. "I think that's an incredible idea. I'm sure you'll become a role model for other men who are struggling to find out how to adapt to civilian life."
John grinned back at her and dug into his pasta. The warm weight of Zeke's hand giving her knee a quick squeeze underneath the table meant that he too had noticed John's reaction. She glanced over at him and caught the warmth in his eyes. For the first time during the dinner, a hint of a smile played over his lips.
They finished the main course in a more comfortable silence. When the dessert menu was brought, Zeke waved it away and asked for the check instead. John didn't protest, clearly aware that prolonging the awkward encounter would be worse than arguing for them to stay for a final course. He and Zeke briefly argued over who would cover the bill, which left Vivian and Delilah sitting across from one another in silence.
Delilah broke it first. "I love your hair."
"Thank you." Damn, she was rusty at playing these games. "Yours is beautiful. I love the cut and the color."
She didn't really. It was almost the same shade as hers, which was far too dark for Delilah's skin, especially with all her make-up, although the cut was enviably chic. Still, she wouldn't have to play nice for much longer before they could leave and she could finally talk to Zeke.
"You own that bakery downtown, don't you?" Delilah asked.
At least this was a subject she was comfortable about. "Yes, Divine Twins is mine."
"I love that place," John said, easing back into the conversation after he'd given Zeke some cash to add to the check holder. "Is that how you two met?"
Zeke added some more cash to the holder and set it aside. "No. I work near there and we pass each other in the mornings. Took her forever to ask me out," he added with a sly grin at her.
"So...you two are together?" Delilah asked. John watched Zeke, an amused expression on his face.
"Well..." Vivian said at the same moment Zeke said firmly, "Yes."
Suddenly it didn't matter that they were sitting in a busy restaurant after the dinner from hell. Vivian's heart tripped a little when she turned to face him and saw the look on his face. "Oh?"
He didn't say anything, just lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Yep.” He glanced back at his friend. “And I’m about to go enjoy that fact. Talk to you later, brother.”
“Course,” John said, rising to give Zeke one final hug.
Vivian accepted a hug from John as well and managed to murmur a quick goodbye to Delilah before Zeke pulled her with him toward the exit. She kept up with him through the door and onto the sidewalk, but when he kept his frenetic pace, she dug in her high heels. At her resistance, he glanced back, confused.
“What?”
She gestured at her feet with her free hand. “Heels. And I didn’t expect to go for a late night jog after dinner.”
He frowned. “Damn. Sorry, Viv.”
He looked so unhappy that she stepped closer and brushed a hand along his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“John’s important to me. It’s the only reason I agreed to meet tonight. But that woman...” She felt more than saw his shudder. It was quick, brutal, and she wondered what brought on the severity of the reaction.
“She was a little heavy handed, sure,” Vivian agreed. “But why are we running away from her?”
“I’m not running away. I just don’t want to run into her when she and John leave. Besides, there are some other things I'd like to try that we didn't get to this afternoon.”
She ignored his attempt at distraction. “You two didn’t know each other before tonight?”
He snorted. “No.”
“She seems to know an awful lot about you.”
Zeke’s face shifted. Those incremental movements somehow made him that brusque, cold man who walked on the opposite side of the street. It was unnerving to witness tha
t change after the way he’d started to open up with her.
“She doesn’t know anything. I like it that way.”
“Makes it kind of hard to get close to you though. If you’re in a relationship, that is.”
He didn’t say anything to that. All the flutters she’d felt in the restaurant when Zeke claimed her in front of his friend died in that silence.
They reached the car. He helped her inside, joined her, and started the engine. It purred while they sat there. She was about to say something when Zeke reached up and gripped the steering wheel. “I should get you home.”
“That’s it?”
His knuckles whitened as his fingers tightened. “Yeah.”
“Then I guess you're right.”
The drive back was painful. It was infuriating to not know anything about Zeke’s past while a woman like Delilah was clearly privy to a number of details. Worse though was the weight of knowing that she wasn’t good enough for Zeke to confide in.
“You’re upset.”
She blinked and looked over at him. The passing streetlights’ glow flickered over his face as they drove down the quiet streets. There was a cheekbone. Now those lips, still frowning. The edge of his chin. A brief moment of blue as an eye was illuminated. But never one complete picture.
“I’m not upset,” she answered. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.”
She heard his amusement. “I doubt that’s a good thing.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Zeke. It’s taking me a while to figure you out.”
“Nothing to figure out.”
Okay, she’d managed to remain mostly neutral until that statement. “Well, seeing how our dinner date was ruined because of something you don’t want to talk about, I’d argue that.”
His frustrated growl made her feel a little better. He didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he drove her back to her apartment and walked her to her door. Didn’t ask to come inside, didn’t offer to make good on his promise of spending the night together. Instead, he kissed her cheek and headed back toward his car.
Maybe it’s better this way, the rational side of her pointed out as she stepped into the apartment and locked the door. You’ve been with men who didn't communicate before, remember? It’s one of the reasons you left Napa to come here. You barely know this guy, so it’s not like you’ll miss him when it’s over.
She dropped her keys in the dish by the door and continued on to her bedroom, kicking her heels off into her closet and slipping out of her dress. She’d almost convinced herself that getting over Zeke wouldn’t be too hard when she noticed the tiny blinking light of the window alarm.
An alarm he’d put up to make sure she was safe.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she yanked the curtains closed. “This one’s going to hurt.”
Chapter 7
Like shit rolling down hill, Zeke thought as he scrubbed himself one last time and rinsed off in the locker room shower. This damn week gets better and better...
Three days after the dinner date, he’d finally gotten the balls to call Vivian. She hadn’t called him back yet, even though he’d been desperate enough to call again and leave a more obvious “I’d like to talk and make up for being such a dick” message. And now he wasn’t going to be able to work for a few days and would be tempted to visit Divine Twins like some love-struck idiot so he could see her and try to apologize in person.
He would understand if she told him to take a flying leap off the nearest bridge. He'd really screwed up. Maybe tonight was his karmic comeuppance.
The night hadn’t started craptastically, but it had gone there with a skip in its step in no time flat. Two hours into his shift, a drunk group of college boys with too much of their daddies’ money decided that they wanted to crash The Club. Zeke had been sent to support Luis, their bouncer. Smart move, considering the escalation punctuated by a beer bottle thrown at Luis.
He’d ducked, but the glass shattering against the brick wall sent shrapnel spinning out. Zeke, who’d been dealing with a different prick, caught a chunk of it with his forehead, in addition to getting splashed by the brew. Once the blood started flowing, two of the kids jumped in the car and took off. The other three tried to get into the building by force.
Zeke enjoyed putting them down. Due to Mr. Mak’s reputation, it was necessary to do that quickly, quietly, and with the least amount of fuss possible. There was no need to involve the police once the young men were lying comfortably on the ground; Preston simply called their fathers and the problem resolved itself.
The cut he’d gotten, not so much. The bar towel one of the waitresses brought to him kept him from dripping while he disappeared back to the Suits’ building. Once he was safely out of sight of the patrons, a concerned Beebee had descended on him. It had taken too much of his time and energy to convince her that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. Okay, so he may have threatened to tell Mr. Mak he was quitting if she didn’t leave him alone, but how could he explain to her that this little injury was hell and gone from the torture he’d endured as a POW?
She backed off once she realized his threat was serious. She still called Mr. Mak, but it was determined that Zeke wouldn’t have to go to the hospital unless he couldn’t handle the injury himself. It only took five minutes for him to close the cut with butterfly bandages and superglue. The cluster came from the cut’s placement. Right above his left eyebrow, slicing back toward his hairline. It must have been too much to ask that it could be hidden by his hair. At least three days away from work to see if it healed up. Once he didn’t look like he’d been in a barroom brawl, he’d be back in the rotation.
“Irish? You in here?”
Preston coming down from his celestial throne? The world must be ending.
“Showering,” Zeke called back. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off before wrapping it around his waist and emerging into the locker room. Preston waited for him, leaning against a locker.
“Boss said you’re getting time off. How bad is it?” he asked, gesturing at Zeke’s head.
“Nothing serious, but in a fecking awful place.”
Preston gave a low whistle when Zeke turned his head to show him. “Damn. No way to hide that. Sorry about the little shits.”
Zeke shrugged. “Part of the job, right?”
Preston’s smile came with a nice edge. “Let’s just say they’re unlikely to cause any problems in the future.”
A grin tugged at the corners of Zeke's mouth and he turned to get dressed. “Daddy not to happy?”
Silence. Then he realized why. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Preston was staring at his back. Zeke straightened and turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping his boss didn’t ask any questions. “Sir?”
To his credit, Preston pulled his shit together faster than most people blindsided by the sight. “When there’s the possibility your membership will be revoked because Junior acted like an ass? Safe to say Daddy’s making some mea culpa to Mr. Mak. You’re heading home, right?”
“Yeah. Don’t know what I’ll do with my spare time, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
His boss nodded slowly. Too slowly. Something was running through his mind.
“Anything else you wanted to say, sir?”
“Rewatched the footage before I came down here.”
No response was the safe response now.
“Awfully good at your job, Irish.”
“Yessir.”
“Even wonder if it’s getting too easy?”
Every damn day. “Your point, sir?”
“Would hate to see you take a giant fucking step back.”
He got the message. Preston didn’t spook easily, so he must have seen something on that video that bothered him. Worse, Zeke didn’t know what it could have been. He’d been too wrapped up in the moment, in the chilling calm that always came for him.
&nbs
p; There was little he could say other than, “Understood, sir.”
Preston straightened. “Take care of yourself, Irish.”
He left The Club on autopilot, slipping into his car and driving out of the private lot, mulling over the fight. He may not have reacted in front of Preston, but the blank space in his memory was frightening in a way he hadn't experienced since returning stateside. Bad things happened in those blank spaces, things he couldn't take back.
It took him a minute to realize where he was. He'd crossed the street and sat idling in the back parking lot of Divine Twins. It made no sense. Vivian hadn't called him. A light coming from one of the windows didn't guarantee that it was her inside the building. Most importantly, he didn't have a right to stop by and check up on her, especially not at this god-awful hour of the morning.
His body had a mind of its own though and he found himself staring at the door, stomach in weird knots. He knocked, silently ran through a series of foul thoughts at his stupidity, and tried to decide if he could run back to his car. Footsteps approaching the door prevented his escape. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and prayed that he didn't terrify some poor worker who found him hiding in the shadows.
When the door didn't open, he rested his weight back on his heels and called out, "Viv? You in there?"
That did the trick. Locks disengaged and a sliver of light appeared when the door opened a crack.
"Zeke, what are you doing here?"
God, just her voice was enough to send a cascade of lewd thoughts through his head. How was it possible to have this kind of a connection with a woman after such a short amount of time? And why the hell did the few days he'd been out of contact with her feel like a lifetime?
"I'm sorry."
The door opened a little more and he could finally make out a slice of her face and body thanks to the dim outside light. Her hair was pulled up, her sleeves pushed above her elbows, and a well-used apron covered her soft curves. Her expression was one of cautious amusement and it hurt more than he liked to know that he was responsible for her guardedness.
