If You Fall (Brimstone #1)

by S. E. Lund

  I didn’t respond, not certain I wanted to admit that I was happiest when I was with him – the happiest I had been in a long time.

  I sighed heavily and dramatically. I really was confused about what I should do. Part of me thought that I could never forgive his lies of omission. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms and let whatever would happen between us happen.

  To hell with second-guessing everything.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said and finished my coffee.

  “Fair enough. You know what they say – you don’t regret the things you do as much as the things you didn’t do. Give it a try. That way, you won’t always be wondering what if.”

  I nodded. That was enough talk about Beckett for now. I wanted to wipe my mind of the events of the past six weeks. I had to think about my year at CUNY finishing my Master’s and doing my internship with the FBI. I had a paper to write. I had research to conduct. I had a job and would be working three shifts a week.

  I had a date with Gramps on Tuesday night for dinner and then a shift in the bar. Working at his bar would give me extra pocket money and help him out. I knew that bar like it was the back of my hand and so I felt honor-bound to work again, even though I probably had enough money saved from my year and from Dan’s life insurance to support myself nicely. Luckily, they were only six hour shifts.

  “You working this week?”

  I nodded. “Having dinner with Gramps and then pulling the early shift on Tuesday.”

  “Talk to him. See what he says about Beckett.”

  “I will.”

  We parted company after paying our bill and I walked back to the subway and to my apartment in the New Yorker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Beckett

  On Monday, after my Saturday night from hell and my reunion with Miranda, and Sunday spent regretting everything I had done and didn’t do in Topsail Beach, I went through my usual routine of going for an early morning run as the sun was rising. After I showered and dressed in a navy business suit, I went in to Brimstone and read through my email, went over a few briefs my staff prepared for me on plans to replace the work that Graham once brought into the company.

  I had lunch with Brandon, and spent the afternoon meeting with a few clients of mine to discuss future projects, including further development of training videos for private security operators overseas. I was so busy, I didn’t think once about our precarious financial situation, but I did find my mind wandering to Miranda and how she was doing. I wondered whether she had been able to get over the shock of learning that Dan died while on a clandestine or “black op” that took him into enemy territory to rescue me.

  How would Dan’s parents react to learning the truth? As far as they knew, he was on a routine training mission. They didn’t know it was black. I couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t tell them, and I expected they’d be upset and want to speak with someone in the military about it, just to confirm facts. It could get me in trouble, but love does that to you – messes with your ability to reason.

  I let my attraction to Miranda get in the way of my faculty of reason.

  I’d never done that before, priding myself on being calm in the face of danger, cool in a crisis, and making sound decisions – business or personal. I’d done everything wrong with Miranda right from the get go.

  That was going to change.

  From now on, I was going to do what Brandon suggested. Instead of letting Miranda go, I was going to fight for her. She was the best thing that happened to me in a long time and I wasn’t going to let her slip away due to my inaction.

  I remembered Miranda talking about her grandfather’s bar in Queens that was frequented by the cops in the precinct – The Harp and Keg. On a whim, I decided to go and speak with him. He sounded like he really cared about her and they were very close. I don’t know what I thought meeting him would accomplish, but I wanted to explain myself to someone in the family.

  Did I deserve a second chance with Miranda?

  If he kicked me out on my ass, I’d have my answer.

  The Harp and Keg was a small bar in the middle of a block in downtown Queens, New York. It screamed Irish Pub, with the Guinness Logo in the window, and thick wooden floor boards, a long burnished wood bar with polished brass fixtures. A mirror ran the length of the bar and a few dozen bottles and glasses glittered in the light from the overhead lamps.

  I spent a lifetime avoiding my father’s side of the family due to their not-so-law-abiding careers as small time hoods, and here I was in love with an Irish beauty, with the lovely auburn hair, hazel-green eyes and freckles. Miranda looked like an Irish maid from some medieval era in her wedding photos, with flowers braided in her hair. I focused on the Cajun side of my family – my mother’s side, learning a bit of patois and French, learning how to cook Cajun jambalaya, spending time down in the gulf. Here I was back in Manhattan, living in Hell’s Kitchen, for Christ’s sake, in love with an Irish American who could be a model in travel brochures for the Emerald Isle.

  I went inside and took a stool at the bar, checking out the place, noting the beer on tap. An older man who looked to be in his late sixties came over, his bald head shiny in the overhead light of a Tiffany lantern.

  “What can I get for you?” he asked, his eyes assessing me. He probably wondered why someone like me was there, with my longish hair and scruff, despite my business suit.

  “I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” I said and nodded to him in greeting.

  He pulled a glass for me, his skill obvious. It must have been Miranda’s grandfather.

  “Haven’t seen you around before,” he said and placed the glass in front of me.

  I gave him a bill. “Keep the change. You’re Miranda’s grandfather,” I said, taking a sip and watching his reaction.

  He glanced up at me quickly. “That I am. How do you know Miranda?”

  “We met in Topsail Beach while I was there for a retreat.”

  He nodded. “You ex-military?” He scanned me, his eyes narrow.

  “Marines,” I said and nodded. “Special Operations Forces. I left a few years ago and started a company. I provide security technology for businesses that operate in war zones.” I pulled out my business card and handed it to him.

  “Beckett Tate, CEO, Brimstone Solutions, Inc. That’s quite the title. How do you know Miranda? She never mentioned you.”

  It was at that point that I faltered. I looked away from his too suspicious eyes.

  “Well, sir,” I said, my voice low. “That’s why I’m here. I fell in love with her when I was there earlier this summer. I believe she felt the same about me, but we parted on bad terms. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

  “She’s fine,” he said, but he took in a deep breath. “However, I did hear some talk from her best friend about her having her heart broken by some young man she met. The way I heard it, this young man left her without so much as a goodbye. You want to give me the details so I can decide whether to buy you a drink or punch your lights out?”

  I nodded and took in a deep breath.

  Then I told him the whole damn truth.

  No embellishments. I told him material that could get me in real trouble if it was known, but he was an ex-cop and understood about the need for secrecy.

  He leaned against the bar, listening, while I told him about my trip to Afghanistan with the CIA, to test a new comms system that used our tech, and how we’d gone into Iran and hit a roadside IED. How Dan’s unit was dispatched to rescue us. That he saved my life and lost his own, dying in a terrible fiery crash when the chopper went down in a sandstorm.

  I explained how my things and his things became mixed up in the aftermath and Miranda’s letters were sent to me by mistake, because my given name was also Daniel. How I discovered them nearly a year later, read them, and was captivated by the beautiful young woman who wrote those letters.

  I told him about learning that the letters belonged to the Navy Hospital Cor
psman who died saving my life. How, against my better judgement, I found myself traveling to Topsail Beach with the plan to return the letters to the Lewis family and shake their hands, to thank them for their son’s sacrifice.

  I told him about falling in love with Miranda and how I kept intending to tell her the truth, but felt I couldn’t because the story they had been given about Dan’s death and the story I knew to be true were different. How I felt I couldn’t reveal the truth, no matter how much I wanted to be with Miranda.

  I felt so much guilt over still being alive while Dan was dead.

  I even told him about Sue and how close I had been to marrying her before she died horribly before my eyes.

  I told him about meeting up with Miranda at the club and telling her the truth and how she left me in tears.

  “I’m in love with Miranda, Sir,” I said. “I think I fell in love with her on letter three, but when I saw her in the bar that day? Goner.”

  He was pretty silent the entire time, not passing judgement. He didn’t comment, and he didn’t change his expression, which was neutral the whole time I spoke.

  When I finished talking, when I said everything I could think of, it felt so much better, but then I had this terrible sinking feeling that even given the fact I’d come clean, he would kick my ass out of the bar and tell me to never see his granddaughter again.

  If he did, he had every right. I’d kick my own ass out if I’d heard my story coming from someone else’s mouth.

  Finally, he put his cloth down and leaned on the bar, his steely blue eyes level with mine.

  “You sure as hell screwed up.”

  I nodded, exhaling, and took a sip of my Guinness. “That I did.”

  He sighed and continued to wipe down the bar. “I’m having dinner with her tomorrow night before her shift. I’ll see what she tells me. I’ll see what she says about you and how she feels. That’s all I can promise.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Thank you for listening.”

  I stood and looked around the bar, trying to imagine Mira here, standing where her grandfather stood, pulling glasses of Guinness for the patrons, laughing at their jokes and miserable attempts to pick her up.

  I felt a stab of regret in my chest at the thought I’d lost her.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said and tucked my hands into my pockets. “Really.”

  “For what?” he said a bit gruffly. “I haven’t promised you anything.”

  “For listening.”

  He nodded. “Semper fi,” he said and waved me away.

  “Semper fi,” I replied.

  Then I left, feeling somewhat better that I’d spilled my guts to him, hoping beyond hope that it might help in some small way.

  Realizing that it was probably a false hope, but I needed something to keep me going.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Miranda

  On Tuesday, classes went quickly, and when I was finished for the afternoon, I went back to the residence to get ready for dinner with Gramps and then my shift at the bar.

  All the time I was on the train, I thought about Beckett and how he’d knelt at my feet, my hand in his, his face so honest and open – in contrast to how easily he’d hidden the truth from me about his role in Dan’s death.

  I arrived at the bar and hugged Gramps, glad to see him. He was my only family left in visiting distance. I needed family at that moment more than anything.

  “So, sweetheart,” Gramps said when we were finally alone, seated at a table in the back of the bar after the waitress took our dinner order. “How are you doing? I got this phone call from Jeanne about you…”

  I sighed and folded my arms on the table, not sure I wanted to go through everything with Gramps, but he asked.

  “What did she tell you?”

  He shrugged. “Only that you met someone and there was something about letters from Dan.”

  I nodded, thinking of the letters that were now folded up and packed away in the bottom of my desk drawer at the residence.

  “He was a soldier who was there when Dan died. He got my letters by accident and returned them.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “He didn’t tell me who he was and spent a couple of weeks seducing me.”

  Gramps frowned. “Did he succeed?”

  I nodded again, not meeting his eyes. “Yep.”

  He sat back and took a drink of his coffee. “There must have been a reason he succeeded. Tell me about him. Do you want me to do some sleuthing about him?”

  I shook my head. “I already know a lot about him and his family. He told me pretty much everything except that he was there when Dan died.”

  “He was in Dan’s unit? How did he get Dan’s letters?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, not wanting to go through all the details. “He was the reason Dan died. Dan’s unit went in to rescue him after their vehicle hit an IED and Dan’s chopper crashed in a sandstorm.”

  Gramps nodded and exhaled loudly. “I thought it was a routine training mission.”

  “So did we all. Apparently, the military didn’t tell us the classified stuff.” I took a drink of the coffee that the cocktail waitress put in front of me. When she left, I turned to Gramps and leaned in a bit closer, keeping my voice low so that no one else could hear what I was saying.

  “Dan always carried my letters in his jacket when he was on a mission – for good luck.” I frowned, because of course, they didn’t give him luck in the end. “I guess when his chopper crashed, the letters got mixed up with the other soldier’s things and they were sent back to him by accident.”

  “And you liked this man?” Gramps asked, his eyes narrowed.

  I nodded, because I really did. “He was fun. We hit it off right away.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem,” I said and closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, “is that he didn’t tell me who he was, or that he knew who I was, right away. It’s complicated, but he was going to return the letters to Dan’s parents and came into the bar looking for the local phone book, because Scott’s address is unlisted online. So he knew who I was the moment we met, but he pretended not to know. One thing led to another…”

  “He never told you?”

  I shook my head. “Not until he left Topsail Beach. He dropped the letters off and included a message, apologizing and telling me that I shouldn’t contact him because he was bad news. Of course, I did contact him and finally, he told me everything. He was on a clandestine operation that went behind enemy lines in Iran. And I could get this man in trouble by revealing that, so forget I told you.”

  “Ahh, it becomes clearer now. You can’t forgive him?”

  I glanced at his face. “You think I should?” I was shocked that I even had to ask that question. “He kept his real reason for being in Topsail Beach secret. He pretended not to know anything about me. He knew everything. He knew more than we did – Dan’s family – about Dan’s death.”

  Gramps rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful. “He should have told you right away, no doubt about it. He was smitten when he met you. Probably tongue tied.”

  “No, he could never be tongue tied, Gramps. He was smooth as a baby’s ass and made me laugh, flattered me, joked with me and charmed me.”

  Gramps laughed. “I really can’t blame him for being smitten with you,” he said and smiled affectionately. “You’re beautiful and smart. A chip off the old block, if you ask me.”

  My mouth hung open in shock. “I’m surprised you’re not going to go and punch him out for lying to me.”

  He took a drink. “He should have come clean right away. He didn’t because he was probably thinking with his heart, not his head.”

  “His heart?” I said with a snort, unable to believe Gramps was being so lenient with Beckett. “More like his private parts.”

  Gramps laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, men always think with them.” His eyes twinkled. Then, he became serious, his smile faltering.
“Look, I’m just an old fighter pilot and cop,” he said. “What do I know about you young people today? But something tells me that he fell for you and just couldn’t find the right time or way to tell you the truth. If he was really on a clandestine operation, he probably felt he couldn’t tell you. You of all people should understand that.”

  I sat back in my chair and stared at him, dumbfounded. “I can barely believe what I’m hearing. You’d forgive him?”

  He took a drink. “I would. He read the letters you wrote to Dan and saw your pictures, and probably couldn’t help but fall in love.”

  I stared at him in silence. “I never mentioned the pictures.”

  He froze and then, smiled to himself. “Damn,” he said, then looked at me with a sheepish grin. “Losing my touch.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “I did,” he said and tried to hold back a guilty smile. “He came here and spoke to me last night. Told me everything.”

  “Gramps!” I said and sat there, totally blown away. “You should have told me! You two…”

  He couldn’t suppress a huge grin. “The boy’s in love, Mira. Totally smitten. Total write off.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, angry that Gramps knew the whole story and never told me. “You should have called me right away and told me Beckett had been by to speak with you. Did Beckett think he could enlist your support to win me back?”

  “I think he wanted to make sure you were okay, and explain himself to someone.”

  “You should have called me right away!”

  He shrugged. “He made me promise not to tell you. Said he wanted to leave things up to you. I agreed it was your choice. Your move. Look,” he said and leaned closer to me. “In general, I think it’s best to be totally honest and upfront about things. Usually, I’d kick his ass out of the bar if he’d done something to hurt you, but the boy is clearly in love and clearly feels terrible about what happened. He said he fell in love with you after reading your letters to Dan and then when he met you, it was game over.”