He shook his head and smiled to himself; his life was definitely changing. Julie looked back over her shoulder and made eye contact. Then she turned to face him, but took several steps backward until she stopped and waited. When he’d caught up, she pivoted into his side, wrapped an arm around his waist, and lifted on her tiptoes to whisper, “The director’s up ahead and has a lisp. S’s are hard on him. His favorite word is shit. Don’t laugh or he’ll make us stay longer.”
He had no idea if she were serious or not, but man, she eased his heart. Connor nodded and took her hand, letting Julie pull him in any direction she wanted to go.
Chapter 16
Four weeks later
Connor sat idly in Julie’s bedroom. No wait…their bedroom. At least that was what Julie insisted they call it. Lost in a bleak inner turmoil, he stared out the full-length window next to the door leading to Julie’s private balcony. No wait…their private balcony. A resigned sigh escaped as a new idea began to formulate to help combat his head issues over their living arrangements.
He saw little more than the moonlight casting shadows across the tip of her swimming pool and stilled his fingers that absently caressed small circles along Julie’s arm. He let out another deeper sigh as he closed his eyes, desperately wishing he could get a better hold on his unwelcomed outlook.
This had been his home for the last month. Maybe as much as ten days had passed since he officially denied his orders, preparing to leave the job he loved. He was in that military holding pattern, waiting for his discharge papers. He hadn’t been back to his apartment once since he’d arrived. That was voluntary. Julie wasn’t tying him down or packing on guilt at the idea of him leaving. No, that would have made things easier. Instead, she did everything humanly possible to make sure he had a comfortable life.
Interestingly enough, her desire to please him made those damned head-game obstacles rear their ugly little heads more often. His desire to be the man of the relationship rested heavily on his shoulders. He wanted to be the one pleasing Julie. Even her magical powers of relief weren’t able to stand up against the self-imposed moral burden he couldn’t seem to get past. No matter what he did, living off Julie wasn’t something he could easily digest.
“You there, bro?” Bray’s voice caught his attention, shifting his gaze back to the monitor. Bray’s brow furrowed when Connor looked back at the screen. His inner chaos must have shown on his face. That thought caused him to look over at Julie who sat not inches away, curled up next to him on the sofa, reading her lines.
Thank God she hadn’t seen Bray’s expression. Anytime he brought out his concerns about their living arrangements, she lost her shit, going overboard to make sure he was happy.
“Yeah, I am,” he answered into the speaker of his earbuds.
“You done for the night?”
“I think so,” he answered. Connor looked down at the clock on his new laptop. It was eight forty-five in the evening. He’d worked endlessly the last few weeks, trying to occupy his overactive, destructive brain, while tediously outlining his training techniques, building an iron-clad business plan for his investors, and using the internet to scope out potential sites for the startup business. Bray’s team had intervened early on, helping him every step of the way, effectively keeping Reed’s intensity at a distance. Tonight was all about tying up the loose ends. He should be excited about the future. Instead, his restlessness knew no bounds. He was antsy as hell and couldn’t get past it.
He needed a regrouping break, and the plan rolling around the far recesses of his brain took root, easily becoming a solidly good idea. Connor had to find perspective in a bad way before he fucked up everything.
“Okay, I’ll keep going through the document tonight and send over any questions I have via email. Once you respond, we’ll tie this up and get it ready to present to your investors. Off the record, your financials are coming in way lower than I initially thought. That’ll help in securing the funds you need to get this started.”
“Mmm,” Connor murmured, ignoring the concern on Bray’s face. “I’ll check my email in the morning.”
Connor bit the bullet and changed the way he usually said things to Julie.
Instead of trying to start a dialog, he plainly stated his intent to Bray. “I’m going to San Diego for a few days. I haven’t been home in a while. I’ll check email first thing after I arrive.”
Julie shifted, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. He turned to see her questioning gaze trained on his face. The guilt that had kept him silent about his struggles began to seep in. He had to find a way to swing this to keep from hurting her.
“All right, goodnight. Tell Julia goodnight,” Bray said, lifting a hand when he saw her coming into the screen.
“He says goodnight,” Connor said, pulling one earbud free, letting it dangle down his chest.
“Goodnight,” she replied automatically, but kept her eyes on him as she sat up fully, turning into him.
“I’ll look for the email,” Connor said and reached up to shut the laptop lid, discarding the computer and the earphones to the end table beside the sofa.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, not masking the hurt in her voice. Defeat settled in. Damn, he hated the idea of hurting her and quickly tried to ease the uncertainty building across her face.
“I need to go check on things. I haven’t been home in over a month.”
Julie had maneuvered around to face him, so he casually draped an arm around her hip while mentally high-fiving himself for sounding so reasonable.
“You aren’t asking when I’m off in order to go with you, are you?” Julie asked, arching her body backward, away from him. He watched her move to the other end of the sofa, putting distance between them. Connor could have reached out to hold her there, keep her close, but he didn’t. Honestly, he needed the distance in order to maintain his resolve.
Maybe that was what this was all about. Creating space between them could help resolve so much of the give and take constantly screwing with his head. This trip would either show he irrevocably missed her and had to come back, or prove that he’d never get past the real struggle of his place in her life. He feared the latter outcome the most.
Dammit, like every other time he thought about this, a worried pang shot through his heart. He pushed up to his feet, reaching for his laptop as he went to place it in his bag.
Since this was a plan building by the second, he forced himself to stop overthinking, back up, and stick to the plan—not create possible ending scenarios. Instead, he needed to let their future unwind organically as life had a way of always doing. Connor tucked the computer into its case and zipped it up before answering.
“I think it’s best if you stay here,” he finally answered, keeping his eyes downcast while winding the power cord enough to shove in its pouch.
The tension in the room built so quickly he had no choice but to lift his gaze toward her. Her expressions ranged from hurt to anger and everything in between. Dammit, he hated seeing her in pain more than he feared his own. He loved Julie. She had become his world. With an inward grown, he summoned the words forward to try to make her understand.
“You don’t fit well in my life.”
Okay, that hadn’t come out exactly right. Never really any good at understanding women, Connor stopped speaking, staying utterly quiet when it looked like she’d just absorbed a punch in the gut. Her face contorted as tears welled. No, no, no… Damn, he played his last sentence back through his mind, then lifted both his hands as she started to speak, holding her off as he tried to clarify his words.
“I mean my old life. You don’t fit well in my old life. If you go, it’ll complicate things for me.”
“Complicate what, Connor? I thought everything was going great between us,” she said, getting to her feet. She didn’t come toward him, instead she moved to the opposite side of the bed. Julie stood there, looking smaller than he’d ever seen her before as she wrapped both her arms over her chest a
s if trying to hold herself together.
So much for finding the right words. Clearly, he wasn’t doing a good job at verbalizing his thoughts and didn’t know how to answer her question without adding more pain. Perhaps, if he were being more truthful with himself, he’d acknowledge he flat-out didn’t want to answer her question—the pain was real for both of them.
Connor placed the laptop case on the bed and took a step back, creating more distance between them. He hadn’t necessarily lied to her, but he also hadn’t been honest with the depth of the battle waging inside him. When the words still wouldn’t come, Connor found himself turning away. This time the twinkling lights of the Christmas decorations outlining the property fence caught his eye. He began to berate himself. Why was he doing this so close to Christmas? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home for the season. Maybe that was what had him so far down. He missed the fieldwork. He wasn’t adapting well to civilian life.
On a deep, regretful sigh, he pivoted on his heel and headed for the bathroom as he lifted the thin knit sweater he wore over his head. It had become their pattern that when Julie practiced her lines, he worked out. Tina would be upstairs soon to help her. He pulled off his jeans, tossed them aside then reached for a T-shirt and athletic shorts.
“Please talk to me. What happened that I missed? I can make it right,” she said, her voice a little shaky as she fought the tears.
Connor kept his back to her, pulling on his shorts. “Nothing happened. I told you I wasn’t gonna do well with you supporting us. That’s all. I need time to regroup.”
He pulled his shorts up, then reached for his tennis shoes, holding his T-shirt in the other hand.
“I don’t remember you ever saying that.” Julie stepped in front of him, stopping his retreat from the bathroom.
“Of course I did. And you called me a sexist. I might be one, I don’t know, but I need to pay my way,” he said, standing up straight, letting his chest swell as he stood right in front of her. Already he felt mentally stronger, knowing he’d laid the whole problem out before her.
“So you’re struggling with being with me because I make more money?” she said, disbelievingly. He stared down at her, and he could feel the scowl growing on his face. Did she just belittle him? This was serious. It wouldn’t work with her trivializing his concern. He shook his head, then scooted past her when she wouldn’t move out of his way. He went for the bedroom again, dropped his shoes on the floor, then sat on the bed to put each one on.
He couldn’t make her understand if she refused to see. She was probably right, if he looked at it reasonably. Why blow the best thing that had ever happened to him because he couldn’t come close to supporting her?
Maybe his problems were bigger than just his middle-class income. Perhaps it was all this counseling he’d been doing recently. They’d been digging through his head for weeks now, exploring all his memories and feelings from the time he started having memories up until pretty much right now in his life. He hated all that shit. There was no way he could keep going like that either. All the meetings, the new business paperwork, the meetings, the counseling, the meetings, living in a house that wasn’t his…
The only bright spot in his day was his woman, and those times were fewer and farther between. Julie spent at least ten hours a day working and another two or three hours at night dedicated to studying her lines for the next day. Maybe the answer was that he could head back here when she got time off every week.
Frustrated, Connor grabbed his T-shirt and went for the door. He looked back over his shoulder when he heard a sniffle. Julie stood in the middle of the room, with tears running down her face. Of course he’d made her cry. Even more irritated with himself, he turned back to her, but Julie twirled around and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door in her wake. That didn’t stop him from following behind her, but the lock twisting in place did.
“Baby, open the door,” Connor said from right outside.
“Just leave me alone.” Julie gave a small sob and refused to unlock the door.
Fuck. His arms dropped to his side. He hadn’t handled any of this right. He stared at the closed door, willing her to open it. When she didn’t, he banged his forehead on the wood and tightly gripped the doorknob. He had the power to break the lock. It wouldn’t take much. Instead of allowing himself the satisfaction of doing that, he looked around the room helplessly. He didn’t want to leave Julie alone, and Tina should have been there by now.
How did he make her understand that this was all him? He loved her more than life itself. She had to know that. He just needed fresh air, and new surroundings to clear his head. God, for the past twelve years, he’d never stayed in one place for any length of time.
Going for the balcony, he swung open that door, leaving it wide as he stepped out, breathing in the cool night air, praying for some clarity of thought. He was completely unprepared for the tense wave of adrenaline that struck him square in the chest. Connor instinctively ducked, intuition had him moving out of the shadowed light, plastering himself against the outside wall. His penetrating gaze scanned the perimeter as he reached for his gun. The damn thing wasn’t there. Shit.
Connor stilled, centering himself, reaching to the far recesses of his mind. A flashback. This had to be a flashback. He scanned the area again; his heart picked up a beat and his mind cleared of everything as he absorbed the moment.
No. The threat was real.
He crouched down as he peered around the edge of the balcony, looking both ways. His gaze stopped at several broken branches on one tree standing on the opposite side of the large security fence surrounding the property. One heartbeat, then two, he scanned the fence line, trying to see past the glare of the Christmas lights. It was impossible to do. He focused on the ground underneath the fence. He was too far away to see. His eyes went back to the tree line, and he caught the slight dislodging of the string of twinkle lights. Someone had jumped over the fence.
With the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, he listened intently. The utter silence on the property confirmed his fear.
Connor stayed low, working his way back inside. He shut and locked the door, lowered the blinds, then went straight for the bathroom. Without saying a word, he twisted the handle, easily popping the door open. Julie sat on a side bench, a wet washcloth in her hands. She was still crying. When her eyes met his, everything stopped.
“What?” she whispered, fear instantly replaced the sorrow on her face. Connor shut the door behind him. Rationally, he knew that if the threat was inside this room, they would already have her, but where Julie was concerned, logic seemed hard to come by. Connor went straight to the closet, grabbing his SIG Sauer from the top dresser drawer.
“You’re scaring me,” she said from the open closet door.
He lifted his finger to his lips to silence her, then dropped an extra magazine into his athletic shorts pocket. He checked the barrel, moved the safety, then grabbed her upper arm, guiding her toward the panic room a few feet away. He didn’t stop for her purse and there was a cell phone inside the room. He was strong and had to curb that strength as he dragged her through the open door. When he stepped out, she fought him, clutching onto his wrist to draw him back in with her.
“No, come in here with me. Let the police handle it,” she begged as he wrenched his arm free.
“Something’s wrong. Call the police right now, and no matter what, stay inside here.” Forcefully, he pushed her backward, then initiated the lock system himself. The door quickly slid shut, the locking system clicking in place, only to be opened from the inside. That should have also been enough to alert the authorities.
Connor went for the bedroom door. Staying just to the left of the doorway, he reached to turn off the overhead lights, and crouched lower to the ground, his pistol aimed to the floor with a finger on the trigger, before swinging the door wide open. He paused to listen and heard nothing. As he stayed low and started around the threshold, he heard the
sounds of a silenced weapon being discharged, then a whizzing above his head.
The threat was close.
Connor kept his head low, listening to a rustling moving in the opposite direction. He bolted around the corner. Whoever had taken that shot had just started down the stairs. He followed, catching a shadow rounding the bottom of the stairwell. Shit, he was farther away than he’d realized. With his free hand, he grabbed the handrail, and jumped over the side to land squarely on his two feet the fifteen or so feet down. Luckily, he ducked and rolled as another bullet flew above his body. He didn’t miss a beat as he sprinted toward the shadow of a man less than thirty feet in front of him.
Connor’s adrenaline exploded as a green dot from a laser gunsight landed directly on his chest. Instantly, he lifted his weapon and fired off a shot as he dodged the one heading his way. He didn’t slow as he felt the impact of a needle hitting his right arm. He rounded a chair, firing his weapon again as the guy curved around the wall, entering the living room.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew to swipe the needle away. The mind-numbing effects were immediate, explaining why everything had grown so quiet around the property. He fought through the chemical haze and kept his gun trained in the direction the intruder had taken. When he heard the release of another tranquilizing dart, he dove behind the sofa for better coverage.
Staying crouched on his feet, he lifted his gaze to the floor to ceiling windows along the back wall. The nightfall created a mirroring effect, allowing him to search the room for any sign of the guy. Connor shook his head as darkness began to seep in from all sides.
Movement caught his eye. Connor had him. The intruder looked slightly overweight and stood behind a center beam in the middle of the room. No doubt, he could see Connor just as easily.
“I know you were hit. I’ll wait you out!” The guy’s high-pitched scream sounded frantic and crazed.
Mission Happy (A Texas Desires Novel Book 3) Page 29
