Explosive Encounter (Task Force 779 Book 2)

by KL Donn

  The way he whispered in my ear like he loved me.

  I’ll treasure our night for the rest of my life, but my heart will never recover. I fell in love with Foster over our one special night when I was only supposed to repair the damage done to me from the assault.

  I can’t get enough of you, Evie.

  I bang my head against my seat.

  You’re a perfect fit, Evie.

  I dig my nails into my palms.

  You feel like…forever, Everett.

  His voice is going to haunt me for an eternity. I want to regret it, I really do, but never in my life have I felt so cherished and loved. Even if it was a false feeling, Foster was everything I never knew I needed.

  And he’ll never be mine.

  My heart will never forgive the betrayal of leaving him before he awoke instead of staying and expressing to him how I felt.

  I’m a coward.

  A wimp.

  The screaming of the jet’s engine as we fly matches the pain aching in my soul as I travel farther and farther away from Foster. Accepting that I’ll likely never see him again, I allow the tears to stream down my face unheeded. It’s my punishment for destroying a beautiful experience that could have blossomed into something unimaginable.

  5

  Foster

  Alaska – One month later

  This is bullshit. I know Knot only sent Weston and me up to bumfuck nowhere in the backcountry of Alaska to find this dumbass senator’s son as punishment.

  We’re constantly training, and just once, one time in my entire career, I fuck up an explosive. It didn’t detonate during a training exercise with the Charleston SWAT team, and now, I’m sent to chase down some spoiled shit who wanted to go hunting without any experience or a fucking guide.

  “If you'd quit grumbling, we’d get there faster,” Shaker snipes at me. Any rescue team could have gone in to find the kid, but West grew up in these mountains and volunteered. I was just an add-on from Nix.

  We don’t always take the most difficult missions, sometimes they’re dumb as shit like this one. Sometimes we don’t even know what we’re in for until a shot rings out.

  “His GPS is four hundred meters ahead,” I tell Weston.

  Looking through his sniper’s scope, he mutters, “I see him. Huddled up to a rock.”

  When he stops and turns around to face me, I narrow my gaze. “So, let’s grab his ass and get the hell out of here.”

  “No.” He puts a hand on my chest before I can walk past him and pushes me back slightly. “What the fuck is up with you? You’ve been a stone-cold asshole since we came back from D.C., and you’ve lost your focus.”

  Weston has been one of my closest friends for more than a decade. He was there when I got married, there for the cheating, the divorce, everything. He knows me better than most men but never did I think he’d stop me for a heart to heart in negative degree fucking weather halfway up a goddamned mountain.

  “Nothing I care to discuss here.”

  “Tough. You talk now, or we wait until your dick freezes off.” Shit.

  “Fuck. Fine. Everett and I slept together in Washington.” His jaw drops.

  “No shit. She was ready for that?”

  “It was her idea. She wanted one night. She wanted to move on and for it to be with someone she trusted.” The more I talk, the more animalistic I sound because I’ll be fucked if I didn’t think she wanted more. Two people don’t make love the way we did without there being some emotion involved, but it’s been nothing but radio silence since I woke up to find her gone.

  “So, what’s the problem?” He’s as confused as me.

  “Fuck if I know. She won’t return my calls, texts, nothing. Her mother isn’t too chatty when I call her either, and last time, she threatened me with a restraining order.” That was a first for me and probably not something I should have laughed at.

  “Son of a bitch.” He turns back around and begins walking again. “You think she used you?” Are we in the fucking Bermuda Triangle here, or what?

  “Are we really doing this, Shaker? Talking about feelings and shit?”

  “Yup. We are. Because if you don’t get your head on straight, Nix is going to bench you.” Triangle here we fucking come, I guess.

  “I don’t know if it's that she used me, or that she was so uncertain of what we could have been if she stuck around.”

  “If she’s uncertain then you weren’t clear, bro. You need to ask yourself, what do you want from her?”

  Everything is the obvious answer, but I don’t even know if I want such a significant commitment again. If I can go through that another time.

  I was off fighting wars and Tamara was off fucking my friends. I know she and Everett are very different people, but I’ll always be left wondering if I'm leaving Evie lacking something she needs.

  I jumped the gun once and got burned to hell and back. I won’t do that again until or unless I’m certain of everything I want in my life.

  “Roger Simmons?” Weston calls out as we get closer to our target, and the asshole pops up from his position, rifle in hand, and shoots a round off. It’s not until I’m sailing through the air and landing on my back that I realize the son of a bitch shot me.

  “What the fuck!” I shout, air ripping from my lungs, stars dancing in front of my eyes, and pain exploding through my chest. “I’m gonna kick your ass.” I wheeze as Weston kneels down beside me.

  “Are you hit?” He starts unzipping my layers of clothing and feels for blood. If not for my vest, I’d be dead.

  “Yes, I’m fucking hit. You ass, did you not see me sail through the motherfucking air like some goddamned frisbee?” Being shot makes me a tad bitchy. “That little bastard is lucky I don’t throw him back down this mountain.”

  Weston snorts. “Senator won’t be pleased about that.”

  “I’m sorry. You startled me!” Simmons comes running over.

  I draw my 9mm from my leg holster. “Stop right fucking there, or I will shoot your dumb ass.” Son of a bitch would deserve it, too. “You cracked my fucking ribs.”

  “How many?” Shaker asks.

  “At least two.”

  “Calling it in.”

  “I’m so sorry. It just went off. I haven’t even shot it until now. I can’t believe I came on this trip. I was so stupid.”

  “Yeah, you fucking were. Next time dear old daddy says no, fucking listen to the man.” I hiss as I try to sit up. Ribs on fire and lungs burning, I know I’m not walking off this mountain, and that just pisses me off even more.

  I can hear Weston talking into the radio as I lay like a baby in the snow and all I can fucking think about is Everett. Goddamned woman is a drug in my blood, and I can’t fucking let her go.

  After nearly four weeks of no answers, you’d think I’d take the hint. But my stubborn ass doesn’t seem to understand rejection.

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open the messages and read through the few previous ones before sending another in the hopes of a response.

  Foster: Hey babe, missed you this morning.

  Call me when your flight lands.

  UNREAD September 5th, 2019 7:31 AM

  Foster: I miss you Evie. Call me.

  UNREAD September 6th, 2019 6:18 PM

  Foster: Talk to me Evie. I need to know you’re alright.

  UNREAD September 12th, 2019 11:47 PM

  Foster: I guess it meant more to me than you.

  UNREAD September 14th, 2019 3:23 AM

  Foster: I’ve been shot.

  SENT

  So maybe it’s not the most tactical way to get her to answer me, and perhaps I haven’t tried as hard as I could have to get a hold of her, but fuck, I’ve been a little afraid I set her back in her recovery.

  Becoming intimate with Everett was an experience I never anticipated. She brought out all my baser instincts, and all I could focus on was how to shower her in pleasure. It wasn’t a conscious thought. So long as she kept sighing my name, I
was a happy fucking man.

  Now, I’m a man without a woman and being carried off a damn mountain because some jackass got trigger happy.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Never have I been so relieved to hear that annoying fucking sound in my life.

  Evie: Are you alright? Do you need anything?

  Foster: Just you Evie. Your sweet voice in my ear. Your breath on my neck.

  “Hey!” I’m being jolted as I’m carried down on a damn stretcher. I grunt through the pain.

  Evie: I can’t Foster. I can’t be anything to you. To anybody.

  “Fuck that, you can’t,” I mumble, and West looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  Foster: Sure you can, you get your ass to my side and you can be anything you want to be.

  Evie: I’m sorry Foster. Be safe, get well soon. Goodbye.

  Foster: Don’t do that to me Evie. Silence isn’t something I take well.

  Don’t cut me out. Not again.

  UNREAD

  “Motherfucker!” My shout scares the birds in the trees and causes them to take flight. The men around me only watch as I get angrier by the second.

  “Calm down, Chaos, or I’m going to sedate you,” West warns.

  “Fuck off.” I can’t fucking stand this.

  Why the hell am I so damn obsessed with this woman when she wants nothing to do with me?

  Everett

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Why does it have to be so difficult?

  My heart and soul are crying out for the possibilities, but my mind is screaming that I’m making the right decision. Nothing but pain and heartache can come from anything Foster and I try to explore with each other.

  Ignoring his messages for so long has been pure torment. Learning he got shot brought me to my knees. I’ve never felt my heart stop so suddenly before.

  Tears flow freely down my face, now, as I see more incoming text messages from him, and I have to turn my phone off before I break my resolve and respond back.

  I’m so close to figuring out who the mole is in Van’s organization, and I know I can’t involve Foster in my plans. He’s one of the few good guys left in the world and doesn’t deserve to be brought down by my illegal activities.

  With Mom out of town for her firm, I have the house to myself. The lights are low as the sun sets and silence surrounds me as I read through the bank statements of a man who works for Van.

  A month before I was taken, he accepted a payoff of thirty-five thousand dollars, and the idiot didn’t bother to hide it, not well at least. Working for the government, with no deaths recorded on his or his wife’s side of the family, there’s no reason for that kind of deposit. There’s no doubt in my mind that he was paid to leak information on Van.

  With zero knowledge of what my father does for a living or why this would happen, I have few options but to go to him with what I’ve found. Even if it makes my skin crawl.

  Being alone for two days and worrying about Foster being injured has me a little jumpy, so when the phone rings, my girlish scream rings out loud and clear.

  “Jesus.” I pick up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Eve, dear, are you alright?” Mom’s worried voice is slightly masked by the sounds in the background of what sounds like…

  “Mom, are you in a nightclub?” The pulsing beat suggests so.

  “Yes. Our client’s son is looking into purchasing this property, and they asked us to tag along. Check out if it’s a sound investment.” I can practically hear her eyeroll.

  “Maybe it’s a good time for you to let loose, then? Have a glass of champagne, meet a cute guy. Have some fun!” She hates when I encourage her youthful self out to play. Whatever Van did when he left, he scarred her whimsical heart.

  Her scoff says more than her words ever could. “Please, Eve, I’ll let loose when you do.” Which we both know is never going to happen. Not after…

  “I didn’t call to discuss my lack of fun in life. I wanted to make sure you were alright after how upset you were before I left.” I didn’t tell her why I was distressed. I don’t want her to know about Foster because all she’ll do is pester me until I explain what happened on my trip and then ask why I ran.

  Because I did run. Fast, far, and like a little chicken.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Just trying to get back into the groove of things. In fact, I’ve been looking for a job.” Not a complete lie. I looked for about three and a half seconds before the anxiety kicked in about working for people I have no knowledge about.

  “Oh good! Dr. Marsden said the best thing for you to do is move forward with your life. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Dr. Marsden is a woman Mom started seeing when I was brought back home and couldn’t sleep for a week.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Mom. Look, I’ve got to go. I was just about to head to the grocery store and then settle in for the night with a movie.”

  “Oh.” So much disappointment and sadness in that single syllable. “Promise you’ll go for coffee or something tomorrow, at least. You need to get out of the house more.”

  “Okay, Mom. Love you, see you soon.” I hang up as soon as she says goodbye, or she’ll hold on forever.

  Even though she was a single mom my entire life, Jessica never played helicopter mom. She gave me my space so long as I was making good choices. I got excellent grades, worked my ass off to get a scholarship to college, and stayed out of trouble. To most parents, I was the perfect child. I was the one they told their children to be more like. That didn’t garner me a lot of friends, but it kept the stress off Mom’s shoulders. Which was my goal.

  Protecting my mom was all I worried about once I hit ten years old. I started to notice the subtle hints of stress in her face as I was growing up. I saw her worry and fear about how we were going to make next month’s rent. I did all I could to make sure I wasn’t a burden. Not that she ever made me feel that way.

  Grabbing my purse and car keys, the lights flicker as I open the door, and I pause to look around. The sun’s rays are still lighting up the sky, so my visibility is good, and I see nothing out of place. Every measly sound makes me jump as I rush to my little Acura. As soon as I’m in the car, I lock the doors.

  My nerves are taking a beating, and I feel like the boogeyman is about to snatch me up.

  Again.

  “Get it together, Everett,” I mutter as I start the car and back out of the driveway. The three miles to the local grocery store feel more like thirty, and when I run into the store from the parking lot, the employees at the front entrance give me a funny look. As if I’m nuts. Which I probably appear to be.

  Grasping the handle of a cart, I insert the coin and hurry along my way to grab what I need for dinner. While perusing the pre-made pastas, my stomach churns, and I debate getting takeout again. Cooking for one is tedious and time-consuming.

  Foster could be here. That pesky inner voice taunts, and I curse under my breath until a little old lady clears her throat and gives me the side-eye.

  With a muttered sorry, I move on to the junk food section and grab cookies, chips, popcorn, and some soda. Pushing the cart through rows of caloric decadence I really shouldn’t have, I hear a squeak. Like a sneaker rubbing on the floor. I spin around to see nothing amiss, but with my suspicions peaked, I wait to see if I hear it again.

  Shaking the paranoia from my head, I begin walking. I have to get myself together. Nobody is coming after me. I’m home; I’m safe. The cartel’s reach can’t get me here.

  That's something I keep telling myself, anyways. Whether it’s true or not, I have no idea.

  “Evie?” I spin around at the call of my name to see Sean Sparks, an old boyfriend from high school. Not just any boyfriend, either. The boy I lost my heart to; the boy I lost my virginity to.

  The boy who broke my heart and spread rumors about me.

  “I thought that was you. How are you doing?” Sean smiles at me like we’re old friends.

  I hate the dickhead. “Fine, Sean. How are you?” M
y grip on the handle of my shopping cart tightens as he moves closer.

  “Good. I’m really good. I’m glad I ran into you. I heard about what happened and just wanted to say how sorry I was to hear how your life turned out.” I frown at his choice of words.

  “Turned out?” I question. Sure, my kidnapping was a bump in the road, but it doesn’t define me. “I think I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

  “You are? That’s great. When something like that happens, people usually curl up and let it eat them alive.” There’s something in his tone that says he’s trying to hurt me.

  “Yeah, well, you know me, always able to move on.” It’s a subtle jab at what he did to me. The idiot doesn’t get the hint, though.

  “True. You always could forget the past easily.” His gaze strays, and now I see he’s remembering what he did. “Look, I’d like to take you for dinner soon. Think you can tear yourself away from your Mom’s long enough to indulge a guy? Maybe rekindle an old spark?” His grin is charming, I’m sure; however, I see nothing but a snake hiding behind a mask. He has no interest in rekindling anything. He's after something.

  “Sure. I’ll talk to my boyfriend when he gets home from his mission, see what we can arrange.” Hopefully, Foster never finds out just how well I’m about to use him.

  “Boyfriend? What kind of mission? He a cop or something?” Sean takes a step back.

  “Special Forces, actually.” I don’t know what Foster is, but I figure that’s close enough to the truth, that it’ll work.

  Sean’s eyes widen, and I see a touch of fright in them. “Special Forces? Those are some badass guys.” His muttered words follow his retreating steps.

  “I guess. I mean they’re basically mercenaries.” I pretend like I’m thinking, which isn’t hard because I have no idea.

  “Right. Uh, well, I’ll see you.” He walks away from me fast enough that it appears like he’s running. Honestly, I needed the distraction of this bizarre encounter. I’ll likely never know what it was Sean wanted from me, but he spared me a few minutes of much-needed relief when I was beginning to drive myself crazy.