Trusting Taylor (Silverstone)

by Susan Stoker

  “I’ve worked with a lot of children with a ton of different disabilities over the years,” Skylar said. “And the biggest thing I’ve learned is to never underestimate them. All they want is to be given a chance to do the same things all the other kids are doing. Society has a long way to go with regard to discrimination and treating everyone equally.”

  Taylor nodded. “I agree.”

  The two women smiled at each other. Then Skylar lifted her glass. “To friends.”

  “Friends,” Taylor echoed and clinked her glass with Skylar’s.

  “Except when it comes to our men,” Skylar added.

  Taylor laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

  The conversation during the rest of the meal was easy and light, and Taylor had never felt more comfortable with another woman in her life. When Skylar asked a few questions about her condition, it didn’t feel as if she was fishing for juicy details, just honestly wanted to understand it. They talked about Silverstone Towing and what a great job the four men had done in making it one of the best businesses in the Indianapolis region, for customers and employees alike.

  They finished eating, and when Skylar asked for the bill, the waitress informed them that it had already been taken care of. “A man who was here earlier paid for your lunch already.”

  Skylar looked confused. “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know,” the waitress admitted. “I’ve never seen him before. But he got here not long after you guys. He had a couple cups of coffee, then asked to pay for your lunches.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome. He didn’t tell you to tell us anything?” Skylar asked.

  “Nope. Just paid and left.”

  “Well, all right. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Stay as long as you want—we aren’t that busy, so you’re not keeping a table from someone else,” the waitress told them.

  “Thanks,” Skylar said with a smile. When the waitress had left, she turned to Taylor. “I’m not sure that’s ever happened to me before.”

  “I’d normally agree, but the other day when I went to get a hamburger, the guy in the car ahead of me paid for my lunch. I’ve read about things like that happening to other people, but I’d never experienced it before.”

  “Cool,” Skylar said.

  “Yeah . . .” But Taylor felt oddly anxious now.

  Why would a stranger choose to pay for their meals? There were other people in the diner eating. Why them? And what were the chances she’d have someone pay for her meal twice in such a short period of time, especially when it had never happened before?

  And of course, that made her think about the guy at the dementia care center . . .

  So many weird things had been happening to her recently, and it was beginning to make her feel uneasy.

  She and Skylar chitchatted for a while longer before Skylar said, “Thanks for coming out with me. I took a day off work—a mental health day, if you will—and I didn’t want to spend it just sitting in my apartment being sad.”

  “How often does Silverstone go on missions?” Taylor asked.

  “Not a lot,” Skylar told her. “I mean, thankfully there aren’t that many tens in the world.”

  “Tens?” Taylor asked.

  “Yeah. Bull explained what Silverstone does this way: out of one to ten on the ‘bad guy’ scale, they only go after the nines and tens. They leave the rest to the police and other law enforcement.”

  “What constitutes a nine or a ten?” Taylor asked.

  “Well, I thought the guy who kidnapped me and Sandra had to be an eleven. He was a pedophile who’d been in jail for assaulting someone else before. And he’d been watching Sandra for who knows how long before he snatched her.”

  Taylor leaned forward, fascinated. She’d heard about Skylar being kidnapped, but didn’t know all the details and hadn’t wanted to ask. “Were you scared?” Taylor asked.

  “Terrified out of my mind,” Skylar admitted. “But I knew without a doubt that Bull wouldn’t rest until he either discovered where I was or, if I was killed before he could get to me, made sure the man paid.”

  Taylor shivered. “Holy crap.”

  “Yeah. Luckily for me, he got home from his mission and rallied the troops. But Sandra was the real hero in my rescue. If she hadn’t been brave enough to run away from the house on her own, I know Jay Ricketts would’ve killed me. But back to the subject at hand. I considered my kidnapper to be a ten. But Bull told me that in actuality, he was more like a three or a four on the bad-guy scale.”

  “Wow,” Taylor said, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah, I was shocked too. Bull explained that Silverstone doesn’t bother with threes and fours. If they did, they’d never be at home and would constantly be on missions.”

  “That’s a pretty good explanation. And reasonable—otherwise they’d attract too much attention and open themselves up to lawsuits, and be accused of being vigilantes or something,” Taylor mused.

  “I guess. Does it make me a bad person to admit that I’m glad my kidnapper was killed when he was in prison awaiting trial?”

  “He was?” Taylor asked in surprise.

  “Yup. I had no problem testifying against him, even though it would’ve sucked. But we got word not too long ago that he was shanked one day while in the recreation yard. The guards had been doing their best to keep him away from the general population, but one day a fight broke out, and in the ensuing riot, he was stabbed. No one has admitted to doing it, and the video surveillance was no help because of the complete chaos that was happening in the yard. A large group of men were all clumped together, and when the dust cleared, Jay was dead in the dirt,” Skylar said. “So Silverstone didn’t kill him, but someone else took it upon himself to make sure a sicko like Jay would never be free to stalk and hurt another kid.”

  “I’m glad,” Taylor said with feeling.

  “Me too,” Skylar whispered.

  “Are you doing okay?” Taylor asked, reaching out and putting her hand on Skylar’s forearm.

  The other woman smiled. “I am. I admit that I sometimes have a nightmare or two, but Bull is almost always there to make me feel safe . . . and to distract me . . . if you know what I mean.”

  Taylor smiled. “I’m glad you have that.”

  “Me too. But anyway . . . I have a ton of sick leave because I’m amazingly healthy, knock on wood, and my principal doesn’t mind the teachers taking mental health days if we have the leave time and honestly need a break. I just hope the guys get home soon. I miss Bull a lot.”

  “Do you think it’ll get easier? That you’ll miss him less as time goes on?” Taylor asked.

  “No,” Skylar answered without hesitation. “I’ll always miss and worry about Bull when he’s gone, but I would never ask him to quit. I’ve finally come to understand that what he does is important. It makes me uneasy, but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of him.”

  Taylor didn’t feel the least bit weird about what Eagle was doing. She was glad he and his team were making the world a safer place. She’d seen the ugly side of people from a very early age. And while bullies and ignorant people weren’t in the same category as the “tens” Silverstone was hunting, she couldn’t muster any sympathy for anyone who did things that karma would make them answer for later in life.

  Skylar smiled. “This was fun. Thanks again for coming out with me.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Taylor told her.

  “We need to hang out more.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Great. Maybe we can go shopping sometime? You can keep me from filling a basket at Target when all I need is floor cleaner or something.”

  Taylor laughed. “You too? I don’t know what it is about that place that makes me overspend and buy crap I don’t need. I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”

  Skylar grinned. “Fine, then we can roam the mall like we’re fourteen again.”

  “Sounds good.” And it did. Taylor couldn’t remember when she’d felt
so relaxed with another woman.

  They stood up, and Skylar left a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

  “I thought our meals were paid for?” Taylor asked.

  “They are, but I always try to leave a big tip. The first time Bull brought me here, he left a very generous tip for the waitress, and I decided that was something I wanted to do too. Waiters and waitresses work really hard and have to put up with a lot of crap from customers.”

  Taylor nodded and reached for her purse.

  “You don’t need to leave any more, I’ve got us covered,” Skylar protested.

  Taylor dropped another twenty on the table. “It’s fine. I like doing nice things for people. There’s not enough kindness in the world—I know that firsthand.”

  Skylar nodded and linked her arm with Taylor’s. “I knew I liked you when I first met you, and I’m thrilled for you and Eagle.”

  As they walked toward the exit, Taylor stayed silent. She wanted to hear more about why Skylar thought Eagle liked her, but that felt a little too middle schoolish. She had no idea if Skylar was right, but she hoped so. For now, she’d play things by ear and maybe, eventually, one of them would get up the nerve to make the first move.

  Rosie called out a farewell, and when they were outside, Skylar promised to be in touch. Taylor was on her way home before she knew it, feeling happier than she had in a long time. She still missed Eagle and longed to talk to him, but she didn’t feel quite as alone as she had before. Skylar was amazing, and much stronger than she looked.

  Thinking about what Skylar had survived had Taylor shuddering again. She didn’t think she could be anywhere near as strong as Skylar if faced with a life-or-death situation. But luckily, she lived a boring life as a proofreader and didn’t come into contact with that many people. Certainly no one who would want to hurt her. Right?

  Feeling that same sense of uneasiness from the diner, Taylor pushed it away. She’d had a good day, and no bad thoughts were going to ruin it. She was going to go home, finish proofing the manuscript she’d started earlier, and pray that Eagle would get back sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Fuck,” Eagle swore as he shifted in the airplane seat.

  “You all right?” Gramps asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “Yeah, just moved wrong,” Eagle said.

  “You need me to look at that arm again?” Smoke asked.

  No, he didn’t need his friend to look at his fucking arm again.

  Eagle was pissed. Mad that he’d managed to get himself shot. The bullet had grazed the fleshy part of his upper arm. He’d bled like a stuck pig, but he’d been lucky. Six inches to the left, and it would’ve gone through his heart.

  One of the rebels in Timor-Leste had gotten off a lucky shot. He hadn’t been as lucky, as Eagle’s bullet had been the last thing he’d seen in this world. But now Eagle had to deal with an arm that throbbed and his friends hovering as if he were on his last legs.

  “I’m fine,” he told Bull, Smoke, and Gramps. “It’s not my first graze and won’t be my last. It’s sore. It hurts. But I’ll live.”

  “If you need more antibiotics or painkillers, just let me know,” Gramps told him. “I can get more when we’re home.”

  “Will do,” Eagle told him. He knew he should go to the doctor, but a gunshot wound would mean a police report, and Silverstone did whatever they could to avoid that kind of attention. His arm would hurt for a while, but the butterfly bandages would do their job, as would the shit ton of antibiotics Gramps had shoved down his throat.

  The only thing Eagle wanted right now was to see Taylor. It had been eight days since he’d seen or talked to her. He felt antsy inside. He needed to know what she’d been up to. How her week had been. Wanted to know if she’d been to Silverstone at all, or if she’d holed up inside her apartment like she’d been wont to do before he’d met her.

  Their mission had gone well. They’d located the rebel leader, and while they hadn’t been able to take him out as quietly as they’d hoped, he’d ended up with a bullet to his brain all the same. They all hoped the remaining rebels would lose interest in their obviously futile battle and fade into the night. It would take a bit of time for that to happen, but Silverstone, and Willis at the FBI, would keep an eye on the situation.

  All in all, it had been another successful mission, but instead of feeling satisfied over a job well done, Eagle was impatient as hell to get to Taylor.

  Was this how Bull felt about Skylar? He hadn’t talked to his friend about what it was like for him, but he felt as if a conversation between them would be happening sooner rather than later.

  Eagle loved Taylor. He had no doubt. But he didn’t know how she felt about him.

  A long three hours later, their small private plane finally landed in Indianapolis. Taking out his phone, Eagle turned it on—and sighed in relief at seeing all the texts Taylor had sent him while he’d been gone. He’d told her that he wouldn’t have reception and wouldn’t be able to read or respond to any texts, emails, or phone calls, but she’d communicated with him anyway.

  Taylor: I miss you and you’ve only been gone a day. Ugh!

  Taylor: My visit to the dementia care center was good, but why do I seem to attract creepy people? Nothing happened, but man, why can’t I meet someone like Chris Hemsworth one day? lol

  Taylor: I got my car back from Stan’s, and I have to say, I missed my Kia!

  Taylor: Why is it that I can think of all sorts of witty things to say when you aren’t here to appreciate them?

  Taylor: I went over to Silverstone Towing today, and I hate to be the one to tell you this . . . but I beat your high score. :)

  Taylor: It’s two in the morning, and I woke up because I had a nightmare that you were shot and lying on the ground, dying. You’d better be alive, Eagle, because I’ll be pissed if you aren’t.

  Blinking, Eagle checked the date of that last text. He sighed in relief that she didn’t seem to have some sort of psychic ability when he saw that she’d sent it two days before he’d actually been shot. He kept reading.

  Taylor: I’ve been keeping to myself a lot since you left, because I realized that you make me feel safe. And now that you’re not here, I see the boogeyman around every corner. I feel as if that makes me really weak, and I hate it.

  Taylor: Shawn made the most amazing chicken Crock-Pot dish tonight. I decided I’m going to steal him from Silverstone and keep him in my apartment to cook for me every night.

  Taylor: Why did the can crusher quit his job?

  Taylor: Because it was soda pressing.

  Taylor: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

  Taylor: If you don’t get home soon, I’m going to go out of my mind. I didn’t realize quite how much I loved talking to you until you weren’t here.

  Taylor: I miss you, Eagle. I hope you’re okay wherever you are.

  Taylor: Thank you for making the world a safer place.

  Eagle was amused by her random texts. But he also really loved that she obviously liked talking to him every day as much as he liked talking to her. They’d clicked so thoroughly that it felt wrong not to be able to talk to each other. He’d never felt that way with anyone else.

  He needed to see Taylor . . . and he needed to see her now.

  He shot off a quick text.

  Eagle: I’m home, Flower. I’m on my way to you. I know it’s late, but I need to see you.

  He hoped she wasn’t asleep, and he was thrilled when he saw three blinking dots in the text program, indicating she was typing.

  Taylor: OMG!! YAY!!! It’s never too late for you! I’ll be up!

  He chuckled at all the exclamation points she’d used. But couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing she was as excited to see him as he was her. After promising to call the others tomorrow to check in and let them know how his arm was doing, Eagle rode the shuttle bus to the parking lot where his car was located.

  He drove way too fast to Taylor’s apartment and took the stair
s two at a time and was in front of her door before he knew it. Two point two seconds after he’d knocked, he heard Taylor asking who was there.

  “It’s me, Flower. Eagle.”

  She wrenched open the door—and he’d never seen her looking more beautiful. Her hair was out of control on her head, curls sticking up everywhere. She had on a pair of loose pink-and-yellow pants and a tank top. He knew she slept in the tank and her undies, because she said anything wrapped around her legs made her feel trapped while she was sleeping. Her feet were bare, and Eagle noted that sometime in the last week she’d painted her nails light pink.

  “Get in here!” she exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt.

  Eagle smiled and let her pull him into the apartment. She slammed her door, then threw the dead bolt and the chain before turning back to him.

  “Are you all right? How was the mission? Did you find the guy you were after . . . or was it a woman? Either way, I’m assuming you guys were successful, which is awesome—one less asshole to worry about. How was your trip? Did you fly somewhere or drive? Are you jet lagged? Do you want a cup of coffee? Or maybe you just want to sleep. Have you stopped by Silverstone Towing? Are you hungry?”

  Eagle chuckled. “Breathe, Taylor. I can’t answer your questions if you don’t take a breath and give me a second between each one.”

  She blushed. “Sorry, I’m just so relieved you’re home. I know you told me not to worry, that you and the others know what you’re doing, but I couldn’t help it. And I missed you. I swear I had no idea how much I’d gotten used to you being around for me to babble to.”

  “I missed you too,” Eagle told her.

  Surprising him, she threw herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

  Eagle couldn’t help the pained grunt that left his mouth at her impulsive action.

  Of course she heard him. Pulling back in alarm, she looked up at him. “What’s wrong? I hurt you?”

  “I’m okay,” he said gently.

  Taylor’s eyes wandered over his face, down his chest—and stopped at his left arm. He was holding it gingerly to try to avoid its being bumped again.