Tough Enough

by M. Leighton

  I’m not convinced of his logic. Many abused women reconcile with their abusers, but I think he’s right in that it would make it much less believable if I ever tried to tell the truth about Calvin. I mean, he set me on fire! I would have to be pretty sick to ever willingly put myself in his company again. Pretty sick or desperately in love with someone I’m trying to protect.

  “So this isn’t as much about Rogan as it is about protecting your precious son.”

  “Oh no. It’s about both. Don’t be confused on that point. Rogan is a champion. He’s making me a great deal of money. But just like most wild animals, he needs a leash. And I’m not sure his brother’s fate is enough to keep him in check anymore. Not since you. So I’m giving him reason to move on. To let it go. To let you go, so that things can return to normal.”

  I try to swallow, but my mouth is bone dry. This feels so wrong, so screwed up, but I just don’t see a way out. Now I know how Rogan felt. My hands are tied. Unless I give him over to this ruthless man, something I would never do. “Wh-what do you want me to do, specifically?”

  “I want you to meet with Calvin, take a few happy, candid photos, have a nice dinner. Spread the word that you two have reconciled. Really sell it. And that should be it. Other than keeping your mouth shut about all this, of course.”

  Of course. There’s always that. My eternal silence in exchange for his despicable help.

  But his help is needed. He holds all the cards. Rogan isn’t protecting himself. He’s protecting Kurt. But who’s protecting Rogan?

  I might be the only one who can. I’m not sure this is the best way to do it, but agreeing with him will at least give me some time to think.

  “So you’re saying that if I do this Rogan will be safe? That once he sees these pictures, he’ll move on and fight for you and all will be well? You’ll keep Kurt’s secret and keep Rogan safe?”

  Even to my ears, it sounds ridiculous. Almost too simple. Just a few pictures and lies to ensure Rogan’s safety and the protection of their secret.

  Only it’s not just a few pictures and lies. It’s me. With Calvin. Even if it’s just pretend, it’s Calvin. Calvin.

  “I believe he will, yes. When he sees that you and Calvin are back together, he’ll move on. He won’t risk hurting you by hurting Calvin. And most likely, when he fights, he’ll be out for blood. Anyone’s blood. And fights like that make a lot of money.”

  “I think you might be overestimating how Rogan feels about me. Did you ever consider that when planning your diabolical extortion?”

  “Don’t be silly. That boy loves you. Unfortunately for him, it’s just not convenient for me.”

  That boy loves you.

  My heart soars. Right before it takes a nosedive.

  The small kernel of hope that took root is dashed as quickly as it sprung up. It never really had a chance of survival anyway. Although I now understand why Rogan’s hands were tied, this doesn’t change anything. It’s not like we can be together just because I know what he was hiding. If I do this to help him, he’ll think I’m back together with Calvin. That will destroy any chance we could ever have had. But if I don’t do it, Rogan himself could be destroyed. It’s a lose-lose situation for me.

  But not for Rogan.

  Not for the man who I fell in love with. Not for the man who held me so tenderly and kissed my scars so sweetly. Not for the man who has given so much for the people he loves.

  I have the power to help him and his brother.

  If I’m tough enough to go through with it.

  As I consider the Senator’s words, I think of letting Calvin back into my life, even in this controlled way on a temporary basis. The thought makes my physically ill. My belly roils with nausea and remembered fear. My skin feels cold and clammy, and my hand shakes where I hold the phone to my ear.

  Let Calvin back in. When I practically had a panic attack just seeing him after Rogan’s fight. How can I do that? How can I stand to be near him? How could I smile pretty for a camera like I’m not shriveling on the inside just being in the same room with him? How could I do that? When he took so much from me—everything, in fact—how could I do that?

  I fold over so that blood can rush to my dizzy brain. I squeeze my eyes shut like maybe when I open them, I’ll be somewhere else. Maybe someone else.

  But then I see twinkling green eyes and a lopsided grin. They pop into my mind as if by answer.

  How could I do that?

  Rogan.

  That’s how I could do it. For those eyes, for that smile, for that man, I would do almost anything. But does that include this?

  “My offer is not without its time restrictions, you understand,” the Senator says when I suppose I’ve been silent for too long, drowning in the idea of a misery I’m not sure I can face.

  “I . . . I just . . .” I’m finding it hard to breathe even considering this. It’s as though the fire of my past is consuming all the oxygen from the room of my present, leaving me no air. Saliva pours into my mouth and my chin trembles with emotion. But despite my body’s reaction, my heart remembers only one thing. Rogan. I can do it for Rogan.

  Or would the truly strong, truly tough thing to do be to find another way? To outwit the Senator and his son? To beat them at their own game and save Rogan my way?

  Liquid steel pours through me, strengthening me in all my hurt places, reminding me that I’ve come so far and that I’m better than this, stronger than this. They can’t rule me anymore. I’m not the victim anymore. This time, I will win.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. Maybe you’d have been a good match for my son after all.”

  “You can go to hell, because when this is over, I don’t expect to ever see either one of you again. Not as long as I live.”

  I hear a smile in his voice again, one that causes a shiver of apprehension to ripple down my spine. “That can be arranged,” he says in a snakish way. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The line goes dead, leaving me alone in my kitchen with a combination of bad memories and rock-hard determination.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Rogan

  I’m not sure how I’ve made it through the last month. I’ve tried everything from exhaustion to redirection, and nothing seems to work. I even tried to get the Colonel to let me come and help him, help him find the man who’s targeting our team, but that didn’t work either. Couldn’t get ahold of him. Not that I’d be much help anyway. My focus is shit right now. Hell, I could be the next target for all I know, and I’d be a pretty easy one since I’m out of hiding in Enchantment and distracted as shit. But still, it’s the farthest thing from my mind. At least Katie is safe from that threat. We weren’t together very long and we were never public, so she was never in any danger.

  Katie.

  The only thing that’s getting me through the days is rage, I suppose. I’ve let it consume me. Well, I don’t know if I’ve let it, so much as it just has. It’s that or go completely batshit crazy. I didn’t realize what an important part of my life Katie was until she was no longer in it at all.

  But I’m stuck. Trapped.

  Some of it has been my own doing, some not. The thing is, I can’t change the past. As much as I wish I could, there are too many things beyond my control¸ things that have nothing to do with Katie. Yet everything to do with why I’m not with her right now.

  I jerk off my sparring gloves and throw them aside in a fit of temper. I turn and walk off the mat, running my fingers through my wet hair. Damn it! If I’d only known that the two men who hurt her most in the entire world were two people that I was forced to work with . . .

  But then what? Would I have kept it from her? Not told her I knew them, worked with them? Maybe I’d have told her elaborate lies. Or just never let her find out.

  No.

  Hell no. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d taken away her right to choose like that. Even if I knew that choi
ce would mean the end of us. And that’s just what it cost me—her. Us.

  She thinks I’m a pile of shit for associating with the Simses. Actually, I couldn’t agree more. But it’s not just me who would suffer if I cut ties. And that’s what makes me stuck.

  If it were just me or my career, or even my ass on the line, I’d choose her over them so fast it would make their heads spin. But it’s not. Only she can never know that. No one can. It’s a secret I have to keep.

  That doesn’t mean that I’m sitting idly by, letting those two bastards get away with what they did, though. I’ve been having that shithole Calvin followed since the morning after Katie left. I’ll get him for something. I’ll nail his ass to the wall. For Katie. Even though no one will know that it was me who did it or that she’s the reason. That doesn’t matter, though. I’ll know. And that’s how I’ll be able to sleep at night. Well, what little bit of sleep I actually get without Katie.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Katie

  I wake with a pounding heart and a heaving chest. My dream . . . it was so real. I was at work with my back to the door, putting away some new products, when Calvin walked in. I turned to find him just a few feet away, watching me. As big as life. As big as my nightmares.

  I realize now that he hasn’t changed much. I didn’t really notice at Rogan’s match; I was too stunned by his presence to note much of anything. But I relived it all in my dream, and I saw. I really saw. Saw the handsome exterior. Saw the monster underneath.

  His hair is still dark sable and cut short. He’s got the hair of an aristocrat. And why not? He’s like political royalty because of his father. His face is still handsome even though I’d much rather see it after a truck tire rolls over it. His eyes are still the same greenish blue, but in my dream, the pretense was gone. There was not a shred of kindness in the cold depths. He’d stopped playing the game. We’d come to an understanding. I know just what lies beneath the surface and he’s not going to waste his energy trying to convince me that I don’t.

  I shudder involuntarily as I think about glancing down at his hands in my dream, hands that brought me such pain during the year we were together. Hands that ultimately stole everything from me with the simple flick of a match.

  Even as I curl onto my side under the covers, I still feel every single emotion as if I’d actually experienced the whole thing. In a way, I guess I did. It was as if I’d actually gone through with it. But this . . . this is why I have to call Rogan. I have to fight this. I can’t trust them. I won’t trust them. Not with my life. Not with a day. And certainly not with Rogan’s future.

  No, this is my only choice. Today I have to call Rogan.

  FORTY

  Rogan

  I’m already irritable, as it seems I always am here lately, when I pull up to my house to find a rental car in the driveway. “Who the hell is this?” I bark at the quiet interior.

  I get out and walk up the front steps, slinging open the door. I stop dead when I see Jasper, one of my Army buddies, standing in the kitchen talking to Kurt.

  He turns when the door slams shut behind me and then I see a woman peek around his shoulder. She’s practically hidden by him. I recognize her. She’s the Colonel’s daughter. We met a few weeks ago when the three of us—Jasper, Tag and me—went to Atlanta to discuss Reid’s death and who’s targeting our team with the Colonel. His daughter, Muse, was there. Not a name or a face I’m likely to forget. She’s gorgeous as hell.

  But she’s not Katie.

  “Hope you don’t mind that we dropped by,” Jasper says. His voice is dark and deep, like always. He was the more . . . intense of the four of us. Even now, though his comment is casual enough, there’s something about his expression that tells me this is no casual visit.

  I cross to them, looking first at his companion. “Muse. It’s nice to see you again.” She returns my smile and I lean down to kiss her cheek. Seems like the right thing to do. She is the Colonel’s daughter after all.

  “Rogan, right?”

  I poke my elbow in Jasper’s ribs. “See? I told you I was unforgettable.”

  His smile is barely there. As always. But that doesn’t surprise me. What surprises me is the way he looks at Muse.

  “She’s heard me talk about you enough.”

  I back up, nodding. Understanding. “So, it’s like that.”

  He nods once. “It’s like that.”

  I examine him a little more closely. Under the dark look of whatever brought him here today, I see subtle differences. Good differences. “I’ll be damned. You’re in love with her.”

  This time Jasper actually laughs. It’s a sound I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before. He really has changed.

  “It’s a good thing she already knew that or I’d kick your ass for telling her.”

  “You sly bastard! Congrats, man!” I pull him in for a dude’s hug and slap him on the back. When I lean away, I can see that what I’m seeing on him is happiness.

  And I’m envious as hell.

  “Thanks. I wish that was the only reason I was here.”

  Right to the point. Just like Jasper.

  “Let’s go into the study,” I tell him. I glance at Muse. “Kurt’ll get you something to drink, Muse, but feel free to make yourself at home.”

  The grin she gives me tells me that she probably wasn’t planning on sitting this one out. But she nods at me and winks at Jasper, which assures me that she’s okay with it, though.

  “This way,” I tell Jasper, starting off back toward the foyer. As I pass the door, I see another car pull up, some anonymous dark blue sedan. “Who the hell is this?”

  I feel like I’m asking that too often today. But then I see my other buddy, Tag, get out and start up the drive. I glance back at Jasper. He’s watching me. He doesn’t say a word. But then again, he doesn’t have to. The only reason we’d all be here is the same reason we were all at the Colonel’s safe house.

  Reid Sheridan.

  The fourth one of us. The one who was killed. The first of us to be betrayed.

  I open the door for Tag. He comes in. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows why we’re here. This is serious shit. We didn’t dick around on our missions. We took out terrorists. We neutralized threats. We took lives. We assassinated leaders. But for the right reasons. On orders from our government. Not like what happened to Reid. He was targeted. Betrayed. Sold out.

  “Don’t you shower anymore, brother?” Tag asks.

  I take in his expensive shirt and slacks. “You afraid I’ll wrinkle you, ya pussy?”

  We hug and then he and Jasper shake hands before we all three head for the study.

  When the door is closed, I lean up against one side of the desk, Tag against the other, and we both face Jasper. He wastes no time. “The Colonel got a name. He found out who’s behind Operation Napalm.”

  A name. Finally. The person responsible for the death of Reid. The person responsible for the death of Jasper’s mother. The person responsible for putting our team in the crosshairs.

  That’s why I couldn’t reach the Colonel. Seems he was busy uncovering a dirtbag.

  “Who? Who is it?”

  Jasper glances at Tag and then looks long and hard at me. “Senator Sims.”

  Holy. Hell.

  No one says anything for a few seconds. We all know who he is. And I guess it makes sense. He knew us. Knew all about us. He would be one of the few people who could manipulate us fairly easily. Mislead us. Set us up.

  His committee is the only one that knew about us, the one that authorized our missions. Black Ops shit. High risk. Highly classified. Ugly business. Things that had to be done, things no one else wanted to do.

  I’m probably the only one who knows what he’s like in real life, though, Senator Sims. The only one who knows how much of his cutthroat politics bleed into his personal life.

  “But why?” Tag asks. His gray eyes are stormy. I remember that look. With Tag, much like with the rest of us, you’r
e asking for trouble when you mess with the unit. Or anyone he cares about.

  “He’s making a run for the White House. Turns out he has skeletons. Several of them. That job we did in Syria, taking out Assad’s second-in-command . . . it wasn’t government sanctioned like the Colonel thought. Sims was just covering his tracks. He’d been brokering arms deals for that asshole for his own personal gain. Made millions. I guess presidential campaigns are expensive. But he had us take him out. Now we’re the only loose threads. We are his last remaining skeletons.”

  Tag’s jaw is tight. “So he’s taking us out. Cleaning up the mess.”

  “He’s trying.”

  “He’s taking out everyone he thinks can be a threat, right down to people we might’ve told. Like family. To someone like him, no one is off limits, but to us . . . to us that’s sacred ground. You don’t go after family. You just don’t. We knew what we were signing up for, but not them. Not them,” Jasper says somberly, his mother having been killed already. Caught in the crossfire and blown up by a mercenary wannabe who knew about Jasper’s past.

  The wheels of my stunned brain come to a screeching halt.

  Family.

  Loved ones.

  Cleaning up messes.

  Skeletons.

  An image of Katie pops into my mind, the one of her face when she saw the Simses at the fight. She knows what they’re capable of. I know what they’re capable of. And after the way I reacted to her at the fight, they now know what she is to me.

  “What is it, man? And who’s Katie?” Jasper asks. I didn’t even realize that I’d said her name aloud.