by Brynne Asher
I lower my voice. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. I need a fucking break and I’m certainly not getting one from anyone else, so it’s going to come from you. She almost died. But she’s here now and I’m not going to let anything get in my way—especially my own father. Get your head out of your ass and act like an adult.”
He’s pushing sixty-five and has lived a hard life while working a labor-intensive job. He also loves beer and fried chicken, and it shows. His dark hair is mostly gray and he’s worked in the sun his entire life, all while wearing fifty pounds too many. There’s no question we share DNA, but I’ve somehow learned how to wrangle the control he can’t.
He narrows his dark eyes. “Abbott doesn’t need another woman walkin’ outta her life.”
“You think Bella doesn’t know that? Abbott is the only reason she walked away from me to begin with.”
“What’s changed?” he demands.
I pull in a big breath because he has me there. What has changed?
Nothing.
Fucking nothing.
But then again, everything.
This might be my one and only chance. Calling it a chance is like comparing a hangnail to a heart attack. To say everything is on the line is an understatement.
Because the woman who’s danced around my heart for years suddenly shows up in Maryland with a gunshot wound. You bet your ass I’m going to take this chance.
“Everything has changed. I’ve got my neck on the line, Red. I know you care about me so it’s time to shut your shit down and step up. I’m going to work tomorrow and I need to know you aren’t going to run her off while I can’t keep an eye on her. She damn well better be here when I get home.”
“You could really be in some hot water over this, huh?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He stuffs his hands in his overalls and shakes his head. “She better be worth it.”
“I’m your son,” I shoot back. “You think I’d do something that wasn’t worth it?”
“Don’t act like you’re cut from my cloth. I married your mama when she was eighteen ‘cause I was afraid if I didn’t, she’d wise up and find someone better. You’re thirty-five—you’ve played every field on five continents, attracted a crazy-ass baby-mama who might’ve given me a beautiful granddaughter, but let’s be real, son, that woman’s got shit for brains. And when you finally do find a lady worth fightin’ for, she’s got an international target on her back and you could go to prison for hiding her here.” His arms swing out before flopping to his side. Damn, he really is picking up a dramatic flair from all the daytime TV. “And now I’m gonna be an accessory.”
“Red—”
“Shut your mouth. You know I’ll do what you need me to. I’ll also be here when she leaves and you inhale another bottle of whiskey.”
I’d like to shake him for being such a pain in my ass but the girls come running around the side of the house. More like Abbott is running and Saylor is chasing her.
My daughter looks as frustrated as her grandfather.
She runs right to my side and whispers, “When are they gonna leave?”
I put my hand on top of her head and brush back her wild hair Red and I are still trying to figure out how to tame. “Baby, don’t be rude.”
“Why don’t you have any pets?” Saylor asks, skipping in circles. “I have goats. And a donkey. And my new sister has a dog. And we have cats but they live outside and aren’t friendly like the goats. You should get a cat because I saw a mouse when we were playing hide and seek and I never see a mouse at our house.”
Abbott keeps talking to me like Saylor isn’t standing right in front of us. “She sounds like Dr. Seuss.”
“I love Dr. Seuss!” Saylor exclaims. “Asa—I mean my new dad—reads it to me all the time.”
“Saylor?!” We all turn toward the back of the house where Keelie is standing at the door. “It’s time to go. We need to get out of their hair.”
I feel Abbott’s body relax against my leg where she’s attached like a spider monkey.
“Gotta go.” Saylor doesn’t even glance at us and hops to Keelie, who must have the patience of a saint. I’ve known Asa for years but from the looks of him at his wedding, he’s happy and loves his new blended family. We have no trouble hearing every word Saylor bosses when she reaches her mother. “Next time, you can come to my house and we’ll play with the goats!”
Keelie smiles at her daughter before waving to us. “I’ll have Asa call and we’ll get together when Bella feels up to it. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I appreciate it.” I wave back at the same time Abbott whispers, “I’ll stay with Grandpa.”
“Don’t blame you, peanut. That’s not a party I’d leave the house for, either,” Red agrees.
“Can we get a cat?” I look down at Abbott who’s wearing a different kind of frown that has more to do with panic than irritation. “I don’t wanna see that mouse.”
I question my parenting skills on a daily basis, but before I can say no because I don’t need to add an animal to my list of things to fuck up, Red reaches down to snatch Abbott up, pulling her into a grizzly hug. “I’ll take you to the pound and you can pick one out.”
All of a sudden, Abbott is happier than I’ve seen her in a week and I don’t think the timing of Bella crashing back into my life is a coincidence.
Speaking of the woman who almost died twice in the back of an ambulance, I head for the house. “Stay out here with your grandpa.”
“I’m gonna get a cat!” she squeals and I shoot my father a glare as I open the back door.
All I can say is, thank God for small miracles—my father has my old air conditioner running smoother than a fine, aged bourbon and colder than Bella, who’s swimming in a sea of red right now. I slam the door behind me and stop to take it all in.
Gracie wasn’t kidding. They did some damage to Jarvis’s card.
“You’re as irritating as always, Cole Carson.” Bella is sitting in the middle of an explosion of clothes, bottles, and tubes of crap that women like, and more shoes than she’ll need while she’s here since I don’t plan on her stepping foot off my property. Her fingers are flying over the screen of the phone I had delivered this morning and she doesn’t spare me a glance as she multitasks. “I’d rather wear Red’s dirty overalls than make you happy by wearing the color of the devil himself.”
I can’t help but smile and make my way to the old recliner my father refuses to part with. “I don’t think Red’s into sharing clothes.”
She jabs at the screen a few more times before tossing the phone into the mountainous wardrobe. “Your father hates me, and from the looks of it, your daughter isn’t far behind.”
“Abbott doesn’t hate you. She’s six and has mommy issues—I’m working on it. She doesn’t know she has a shit mom and I don’t feel like telling her because that reflects on me. I walk that line with my daughter every single day. It doesn’t matter if you’re here, I’d be doing it anyway. And Red doesn’t hate you, he loves me. All he saw was that I came home from the Middle East pissed and empty-handed. He blames you.”
Her eyes fall shut and she leans back into the sofa. “I didn’t bend to your wishes. I can completely see how it’s my fault and I now own an entire wardrobe of your favorite color. It makes perfect sense.”
I try to keep the smile out of my tone. “It wasn’t always my favorite color.”
Her eyes open but she doesn’t move a muscle. “Don’t take me for an idiot.”
“You don’t get it and you never have.”
“Enlighten me.”
I lean forward and pick up the first thing I see. It’s soft and smooth, and when I let it slide through my fingers, I see it’s a silk robe. “The first assignment we had together. You were young and as green as George on the one-dollar bill.” I fist the red as tight as I want to hold on to her. As tight as I’ve tried in the past and it’s never worked. In fact, the
tighter I’ve gripped, the more she’s slipped and melted away from me. “I had a job to do and you were my decoy.”
I see it in her eyes. She remembers the day as clearly as I do. She hated me—I could see it and feel it. I didn’t think much of her at the time, either.
But the moment we walked into that mansion, there was nothing green about her. She not only did her job, she fucking killed it. And it had nothing to do with the red dress she wore to make sure she was the center of attention.
But that red dress hugging every curve of her body as it was pressed against mine on the dance floor did have an effect on my dick, which at the time annoyed the fuck out of me. I never mixed business with pleasure.
Ever.
And I had no desire to shake things up for a fresh-out-of-college MI6 who probably landed the job because of her last name and beautiful face.
She knows where I’m going with this and says nothing so I keep on. “You annoyed the hell out of me that night.”
“Because I proved you wrong and not only did my job, but bloody aced it? You planted the bugs while I romanced our target with small talk. Your operation had been trying to infiltrate that mansion for weeks. But when I was added to the case, it was done in a matter of ninety-four minutes—if I remember correctly.”
“You were a natural, but that’s not what annoyed me. I’d worked for years to get where I was. I was the best—”
She interrupts me. “I see you still struggle with poor self-esteem.”
I ignore that. “—and always focused on my assignment completely. I never had to work at concentrating until that night. Until you waltzed your fine ass out of the shitty motel bathroom in a dress that annihilated the brain cells of every man within a one-mile radius.”
“How dare you insinuate my worth is based on my dress size—”
“And then you worked the room like a seasoned operative. You had the touch, the cool, the collected, the instincts. You know I’d never imply anything else at this point. You quickly won me over and you know it. So you, sweetness, in red, takes me back to a time I’ll never forget.”
Her eyes close. I’m sick of seeing her exhausted. Not when I’m used to her full of life, giving me a run for my money at every turn.
“Can we please not rehash the past?” Her head falls to the sofa cushion. “I’m not used to making new friends—I’m exhausted.”
“You’ll be fine.”
It looks like it takes all her energy to lift her lids and gaze at me. “I know. I now have both Keelie and Gracie’s numbers. They said they’re going to check in on me and to ring them if I need anything. And do you know what’s even more shocking?”
I toss the red robe on top of the mountain of clothes. “What?”
“I think they meant it. I’m not accustomed to nice women.”
I get up and head to the kitchen. “It’s amazing what can happen when they aren’t intimidated by you.”
“I’m not intimidating unless you piss me off,” she calls after me.
That’s the truth.
Chapter 7
Where Dreams and Fears Collide
Twenty-two years ago
London
Age five
Bella
“It’s fuckin’ not. And if they think it’s the way it’ll happen, they can kiss my arse.”
My hand flies to my mouth to muffle my giggle because Daddy said the bad words Mummy would chew him for if she heard. I take a chance and open the door a bit so I can see. He’s where he always is, in his leather chair that’s wrinkled from him shifting to and fro. He’s told me how he loves that chair because it was my grandpop’s before it was his and all he ever wanted to do was to be like him. I love that chair too. When Daddy’s away for work, I spin until my head gets wobbly.
He stands and goes to the closet in his den. It’s always locked—whether he’s home or away. He takes the phone with him and unlocks the three deadbolts, all with different keys that clank as he moves.
“I can be there by morning and we’ll set this straight. Don’t warn them. At this point, I’ll do it myself.”
When he comes out of the closet, the phone is pressed between his ear and shoulder because his hands are full. He has a gun in one hand and a stack of pounds in the other. I’ve never seen Daddy with a gun before. The only time I’ve ever seen a shooter was on those shows Archer and Devon watch.
“Catch you when I land. I’ll call the States—fill them in.”
“Bella.”
I jump at Mummy’s whispered voice and turn to her as she pulls the door to the den shut with a click, closing me out from Daddy. She narrows her eyes but her pretty pink lips tip up on the side.
She picks me up and puts me on her hip, giving my bum a squeeze. It’s a warning but I’m not worried. Her warnings pack no punch. Neither do Daddy’s. Even so, she leans in close. “Why are you out of bed, sneaking around like a sleuth? It’s late and you should be sleeping.”
My insides twist, but not because I got caught peeping. “Daddy’s leaving?”
Her smile deflates. “Yes, love. But he’ll be back in time for your recital. He promised.”
I frown. “I hate ballet. I want to quit.”
She turns toward the stairs on her way to my bedroom that’s the color of a canary. I hate yellow too. “But all your friends take dance.”
“Miss Mary hates me,” I complain as Mummy tucks me back into my soft bed and snuggles next to me. “She calls me hard-headed and difficult.”
When I’m tucked up against her, she runs her fingers through my messy hair and smiles. “Well, Miss Mary is crazy. You’re beautiful-headed and spirited. She doesn’t understand you.”
I yawn. “Why do you make me go?”
“Because you’re a little lady and ballet will teach you to be graceful.”
“I don’t want to be graceful. I want to take zu zitsu with the boys. It’s not fair.”
“Jiu jitsu,” she corrects gently like she always does when I flub a word. “You love your big brothers, don’t you?”
I nod because she’s right. Archer and Devon aren’t like my friends’ brothers. They don’t pick on me—they include me. Sometimes I think it’s only because Daddy would raise his voice if they didn’t, but I don’t care. “I want to be like them. I don’t want to learn stupid ballet.”
“I agree, it’s not fair. You can do anything you put your mind to and if you want to kick the snot out of a bag like your brothers, then you will. I’ll enroll you for the next session, my little firecracker. But you’ll also keep up with ballet. You’ll thank me someday.”
“Love you, Mummy.” My eyelids get heavy. “I want to say ‘bye to Daddy.”
“Don’t fret. He’ll come in and kiss you. He’d never leave without loves from his beautiful Bella.”
“I’ll stay awake,” I promise, rubbing my face before I look at Mummy and lean in to kiss her nose. Daddy says she looks like a fairy.
She smiles and returns my nose kiss with one of her own. “Yes, you stay awake, little bug.”
It’s the last thing she says before she starts to hum the way she always does—a song I’ve never heard from anyone but her.
My eyes fly open and my body jerks. The pain in my gut is a reminder of where I am, how I got here, and why I’m stuck in Virginia.
“You okay?”
Cole is next to me in bed, yet still so far away. It’s my second night in his bed, in his house, and co-existing with his daughter and father.
I’m barely surviving in an odd purgatory, somewhere between utopia and the deepest pits of reality where dreams and fears collide, rivaling an eruption not seen in modern-day warfare.
I say this and I’m not an overly-dramatic woman. I mean, I have found ways to flourish while hiding out in Pakistan, amassing information on some of the most brazen terrorists in the world.
Ever since I regained consciousness in the hospital, dreams of home infiltrate my sleep more often than not. If they were nightmares, I co
uld see how it would be problematic. But these aren’t anywhere close to night terrors. These are good dreams of good times—better ones than I’ve had in years. But even so, every time I wake with these memories, there is a weight bearing down on my chest heavier than anything I’ve endured—I miss my family and secretly crave stability.
“Baby. You okay?” The roughness of his voice punctures through the dark as he reaches to squeeze my hip under our covers.
I take a deep breath and do my best to ignore him. It’s not the first time he’s reached out to me since I arrived here but Cole Carson has kept his promise—he hasn’t touched me. Not really. Not the way I’m used to—the way I came to beg him to when we were an us.
“Bella—”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Trying to get comfortable.”
Through the moonlight peeking between his old blinds, he looks down from where he’s propped himself up on a forearm. “It’s not time for your meds. What do you need? Another pillow?”
I blink slowly and tell him the truth. “This sweet side of you is honestly freaking me out. If you don’t watch it, you’re going to be forced to turn in your arsehole card.”
That doesn’t win me a smile, but rather a hike of his thick, arched brow, which is more like the Cole I fell for a lifetime ago. “Don’t worry, the asshole will be back when you can roll over in bed without wincing from pain. Tell me what you need.”
I close my eyes and do my best to roll away from him. “I know you think you’re the answer to everything, but I’m capable of getting comfortable on my own.”
That’s a lie too. I’ve never known physical pain like I’ve experienced since I woke up after surgery.
“I might be an asshole but you’re still the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.”
I’m about to argue, but before I get a word out, his muscled chest is flush with my back, his pelvis cradling my bum, his quads glued to my hammies.
