by RC Boldt
Blowing out a long breath of frustration, he shook his head before slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You know you’re the best sister I’ve ever had.”
Knocking into his side playfully, I rolled my eyes at him. “You don’t have any sisters, Osbourne.”
He tugged me close, and when he spoke, his words were tender, with brotherly affection. “But I do. I’ve got you, Ford.”
That was my last night deployed as a combat pararescueman. And, if I were being honest, I wouldn’t have had it go any differently. Because I had spent it with the one person who’d been by my side in some hellacious circumstances and always had my back.
And, then, with just a quick slide of my pen against some papers, poof! It was all gone. Over.
Leaving a dent in my battered heart, pride, and … maybe even my soul, too.
* * *
The Most Interesting Man In The World: Hey, gorgeous. Can I stop by and see you after I’m done with my last class tonight?
Langley: Did you really change your name in my phone to that? The Most Interesting Man In The World? Really, Laws? Really?
The Most Interesting Man In The World: It’s amazing how I can hear the sarcasm dripping from your words. Even in a text.
Also, the fact that you knew it was me speaks volumes. Vol-umes. ;)
Langley: Whatever.
The Most Interesting Man In The World: What if I bring over those awesome quinoa and black bean burgers you like from The Circle? With extra ketchup? And pickles?
Langley: Sounds good. I’ve got to get back to work.
The Most Interesting Man In The World: Later gorgeous.
“Fuck!” Her head jerked up at Foster’s utterance before turning her attention to what he was apparently watching on one of the four monitors mounted high on the east-facing wall of their office. The monitors always had various news stations from around the world, and the one currently drawing her boss’ attention was one tuned to Al Alam News.
Taking in the scene currently displayed on the television above, she read the translation flashing across the bottom of the screen:
We are getting reports of explosions in an area known to be a stronghold of ISIS in the Helmand Province. These militants have declared they are holding a United States Special Forces officer captive. They are demanding $800 million dollars in exchange for the man. We have reached out but U.S. officials have declined to comment at this time.
No. Oh, God, no, she thought frantically. Recalling her last email contact with Lucas, she remembered he had still been working out of Kandahar as they were continuously bombarded with rescues in that area alone. More than likely, this meant that it was a SEAL as they were often carrying out missions in the Helmand Province.
She glanced back to see that Foster’s eyes were still fixed on the news monitor, obvious tic in his jaw before his eyes fell closed in a painful looking wince.
“Fuck,” he muttered again, raking his hands over his close cropped brown hair, which was still cut to be in line for military regulation. Shaking his head, lips pressed thin, his eyes opened, the whiskey brown eyes appearing more golden. “Please, let it not be Hendy,” he murmured.
She watched her boss closely, wanting to inquire but felt as though maybe it wasn’t her—
“What happened?” Noelle spoke up, seeming concerned.
His lips rolled inward before quietly answering. “One of my good friends is over there.” He nodded in the direction of the monitor replaying what they just watched. “Pretty good chance he’s involved in that.”
“Oh.” Noelle’s eyes went wide before her brow furrowed. “But how do you know?”
“I don’t.” Foster tipped his head to the side. “But, being Special Ops, where there’s bad guys, where there’s a lot of bad shit that goes down, we’re usually sent there. Ford can attest to that.” He met her gaze and she nodded briefly. “And that,” he gestured to the television, “right there, is the Helmand Province which is like fucking Disney World for terrorists.”
Silence fell over the three of them as they watched the monitor. Feeling the edginess, she was about to offer to go make a run for food for them since it was approaching lunch time when Noelle spoke.
“Hey, Sauron. What do you say we get you out of here and get some food in you so you’ll feel better?”
She had to do just about everything in her power not to gawk at the other woman’s offer. Because, what the hell just happened?
“Better watch out, Davis. You take me to lunch and by the end of it, you’ll be calling me Aragorn.” He cocked an eyebrow after spouting off the Lord of The Rings reference, staring at their office manager as if daring her to say otherwise.
Of course, Noelle had a smart response.
Of course.
Rising from her chair, the blonde pulled her small purse straps over her shoulder and offered him a saccharine sweet smile. “Don’t you worry your little head about it. You’ll always be more like Gollum to me, bossman.” Her condescending tone was loud and clear.
Foster walked to the door of the office, waving his hand at their office manager impatiently. “Come on, Frodo.”
Noelle turned to her. “Please tell me you’re coming with?”
She shot her a wide-eyed look that translated to Do I look that crazy and masochistic? “Nope. I’m good, thanks.”
“I’ll bring you something back, Ford,” Foster offered.
“Sounds good, boss. Appreciate it.”
“After you, Samwise,” Foster gestured for Noelle to exit before him. And when the office manager stepped in front of him, she witnessed Foster’s gaze track down the curvy blonde’s body. It was only when he was stepping through the doorway that she heard him mutter, “Not a word, Ford. Not a word.”
The door closed swiftly behind him.
Grinning, she went back to work on the contract renewals for their current sites, musing aloud, “Oh, Kavanaugh. You’ve got it bad.”
* * *
Heading home, she couldn’t help but feel the slight giddiness of anticipation at the idea of seeing Lawson. After she pulled into her driveway, she entered the house quickly, leaving her shoes on the mat by the door, walking over to toss her keys and wrist wallet onto the small kitchen counter. Pulling off her dark blue company polo, but leaving her in a nude-colored cotton camisole with a simple bra beneath it, she tossed her shirt into her dirty laundry bin.
While trying to decide if she wanted to bother changing out of her khaki pants since Laws had told her numerous times that he thought she looked hot in them, she heard a knock at her door.
“Come in,” she called out to Lawson, her voice ringing out in the small, quiet home. Stepping into the bathroom, she removed the ponytail holder from her hair before running a smoothing hand down over her long, brown tresses, turning to exit the bathroom.
And promptly stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of the voice that had responded.
“Please tell me this shithole isn’t your place, Ford.”
No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
Putting one foot in front of the other cautiously, as if she were the main character in the midst of a scene from a horror movie, she moved to approach the main living space and saw him.
Brent Phillips.
C
HAPTER FORTY-SIX
Lynch’s law: When the going gets tough, everyone always leaves.
Langley’s take: Well, everyone always ends up leaving me in some way, don’t they? For some, the ‘going’ didn’t even really have to get too tough.
~
“LOOKING GOOD.” HIS EYES TOOK in her form and she suddenly felt vulnerable, standing there before him.
And Brent? He did not look good. In fact, it appeared as though he’d put on some weight—and not in the form of muscle—as well as a developed a receding hairline.
What had she ever seen in him?
“If you would’ve looked like this back then, I might have been more likely to reconsider what I did.” His eyes f
lickered over her in a lascivious manner as she stood before him.
Clenching her jaw, she glared. “I clearly thought you were someone else.” Stepping forward to ‘help’ him to the door, she said, “You need to leave.”
“But, Ford.” His smile was smarmy, not reaching his eyes. It never had. How had she missed that before? God, she’d been so blind.
“I haven’t even been able to catch up with you, yet.” Brent made a pouting face which made him look ridiculous instead of what she was sure he hoped was endearing.
Crash and burn on that one, buddy.
“How did you find me?”
“A combination of your work website and a nifty internet search. Overheard Osborne talking to the Battle Commander about your new job. Amazing what a little internet search can come up with.”
Damn, fucking internet. No information was sacred anymore.
“And you came here, why?”
“Heard about this new job you’ve got and I was thinking you’d put in a good word for me with your boss since I’m about to get out.”
He’s delusional. That’s got to be it. Especially if he thought, after all that went down, she’d put in a good word and suggest that Foster hire him?
Oh, hell, no.
“You’re getting out, huh?” She eyed him curiously. This was odd since he’d proclaimed to be a ‘lifer’—planned to retire with the Air Force.
“Yeah, well,” he looked away, not meeting her eyes, “we just got a new captain and he’s a dick.”
Translation: The new captain doesn’t like ass kissers or people who slack on the job.
Yeah, she was done here. She’d left this part of her life behind for a reason.
“You need to leave. I’m expecting someone.”
“Oh?” He took a step closer to her, far closer than she wanted him to be, his lecherous gaze traveling over her. “And is all this for him?” Reaching out, his finger touched her bare shoulder, making her skin crawl.
“That’s none of your business,” she bit out, backing away.
“Bet you wouldn’t be able to give me a run for my money now that you’ve lost that bulk of muscle you used to have.” The taunt was clear and sent unease running through her at the unspoken threat.
When he stepped closer to her, eliminating the lingering space between them, her entire body stiffened, and her feet slid apart in stance, preparing for whatever he might try.
What he did next, however, she had not planned for.
Because his lips came crashing down on hers in a kiss that was as brutal as it was disgusting.
* * *
“Helloooo! Food deliv—” Lawson’s words stopped abruptly at the sight before him.
And, fuck, was it a sight. A sight he could do without ever seeing again in his life, that much was certain. Because, although he’d been curious about the vehicle in her driveway, he certainly hadn’t expected to walk in on that scene.
As if his words drew her from the dazed shock of what had just occurred, Lee shoved the man away from her.
He stood there, at the door, holding the large bag of takeout. Wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a graphic T-shirt with a Taco Bell logo with Let’s Taco ’Bout Sex written beneath it; the shirt was well-worn as it was one of his favorites. It might also be classified as one of his favorites since Lee had mentioned that it showcased his “firm pectorals”.
“Am I interrupting?” He raised his eyebrows, eyeing them and it appeared to remind Lee that the man was still standing far too close to her. Backing away, she started to speak but it was the man who spoke first.
“Hey, man. Thanks. How much do I owe you?” As he approached him, he couldn’t help but make comparisons at their contrast.
This guy was a few inches shorter than him, pudgy and his eyes looked beady amidst the weight that showed on his face; whereas he himself was lean, muscled, in shape from running with Lee and teaching his classes at the gym.
And he would bet that this was the guy—the douchebag—from Lee’s past. Brent.
Pulling out what was far less than anyone with sense would pay for food delivery of any kind, Brent offered the cash to him.
“Thanks, man.” The guy reached to take the bag from him but he quickly moved it out of his reach.
“I’m delivering the food to Lee.” Eyeing him hard, he stared at Brent.
“Who?” The confusion lining Brent’s face would be laughable if the situation had been any different.
“Lee.” He heard the way his voice sounded, the way he said her name. It had a strong, steely undertone, as he looked down at the other man.
“Ah, I see.” A cocky grin overtook Brent’s face. “So you’re the person she was waiting for, looking all feminine for once.”
He heard Lee’s indrawn breath at Brent’s words, knew she likely felt as though she’d been backhanded. Merely by the asshole’s words. He knew that, not long ago, she wouldn’t have given two shits if someone had claimed she wasn’t feminine looking. Because, back then, her mission had been to try to blend in, to be one of the guys in an attempt to get them to see her for her abilities and not her gender.
But, now? Now, things had changed. She had learned to embrace herself—to embrace being a female. She’d learned that she could be just as badass and still be feminine, that she didn’t have to choose one over the other.
And, by God, he was damn proud to say that he had been one of the people who had helped her to come upon that realization.
“You need to leave, Brent.” Lee crossed her arms.
Nodding slowly, Brent looked at her before turning his attention to Lawson, making a face. “Sorry to hear that you’re tapping that.” He tossed his thumb in her direction. “Pretty bad lay, if I do say so myself.”
Slowly, not breaking his gaze which was locked onto Brent, he lowered the bag of takeout to the floor, placing it off to the side. Sliding his hands in the pockets of his shorts, appearing casual, he grinned good-naturedly at Brent.
Except that this smile didn’t reach his eyes. And, in truth, it was anything but good-natured.
Because the asshole standing before him had hurt his Lee. Was still hurting her. And that shit did not fly with him. No one would disrespect her.
Especially Brent.
“Yeah, see, where I come from, we don’t actually talk about women like that. We do something,” he laughed, gesturing with his hands, “wild and crazy like actually respecting them.” He made a face. “Crazy talk, right?”
Brent stared at him as if he were attempting to figure out if he were serious or not.
“So, you see,” he took a step toward the man, “talking about her like that is unacceptable.”
“Really? And what are you gonna do about it, curly?”
Ah. Nice reference to his lovely blond locks. Thank you, Captain Obvious.
“Curly? Wow. That was super creative, dude.” His tone was dry. “The lady asked you to leave so that’s what you need to do.”
Brent stepped up into his personal space, poking a finger into his chest. “I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave.”
His hand shot out to grasp the man’s wrist before he could land another finger jab to his chest, twisting it back sharply behind his back. Brent, of course, retaliated in the worst way possible.
The asshole came out with an uppercut, punching him in the jaw, knocking his head back.
“Laws!” he heard Lee cry out.
Recovering quickly, he retaliated by punching straight in, hitting Brent just so, felt the shift when he hit the man’s nose. Blood began to pour out and he grabbed him by the collar, directing him toward the door.
“You broke my fucking nose!” Brent cried out.
“Be glad that’s all that broke,” he warned, shoving him out of the house. “Now, get out of here and don’t come back.”
The other man kept hold of his nose as he stumbled down the steps to the driveway to where his vehicle was parked. Lee had followed them out and was now standing at the top
of the stairs, watching as Brent made his way to his vehicle, eventually peeling out of her driveway.
C
HAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Gerrold’s first law of infernal dynamics: An object which is in motion will be heading in the wrong direction.
Lawson’s take: I feel like I should add to the end of that “Until said object [read: person] gets repositioned in the right direction, thanks to their friends.”
~
“LAWS,” SHE BEGAN AS THEY both stood there at the top of her stairs, her tone edgy, “I was dealing with that on my own. I had it under control.”
Glancing toward him, she noticed his gaze was still in the direction of where Brent’s vehicle had disappeared.
“I stepped in, Lee.” His voice was subdued and had an odd undertone to it that she couldn’t quite decipher. “I did it because I care about you. Not because I thought you didn’t have things under control.”
Crossing her arms, she blew out a long breath, shaking her head. “Laws … you don’t understand. I don’t need—”
Whipping around to stare at her, he bit out, “What don’t I understand, Lee? The fact that that asshole had his hands on you, that his whole entire demeanor was menacing? That he looked like he would have tried to hurt you? Because I understand that. Well.
“Because I did what any man would do in this position when it comes down to protecting or defending the woman he loves.” Exhaling loudly, he shook his head, running his hands over his face.
“Look, here’s the deal. I love you and want to be with you. You and everything that encompasses. I love your fierceness and how you can take care of yourself—I do. But, Lee, sometimes something has to give a little.” He held her gaze and she remained silent, warring emotions keeping her tongue-tied. A part of her understood what he was saying but the other part of her … that part was still overly wary of leaning on someone else, of allowing someone else to share whatever burdens might be present.
Letting out a frustrated sound, he shook his head, looking down at his flip flop clad feet, then to his now bloodied knuckles, already beginning to show signs of bruising.
