Unable to face Charlotte, his son or his father, he washed up totally wrecked on Pavlos Stephanopolous’s door.
Thyssen looked at his father, fighting the shame that ate at his gut. “I fucked up.”
Iannis dark eyes didn’t waver. “Yes you did.”
Thyssen didn’t look away, though his insides squirmed. He was grown man, a fucking ex-SEAL yet he squirmed beneath his father’s unwavering stare. “I have to make it right.”
His father looked at the closed door Charlotte had just slammed. “Good luck.”
“Ah . . .” Stavros spoke around his cigar. “I want to hear about Stephanopoulos.”
Stephanopoulos had been his father’s business partner years ago back in Greece, before either of them came to North America. Stephanopoulos carved out a big piece of organized crime territory for himself, as his father built his shipping and trading company. Pavlos and Iannis had been friends, and helped each other build their businesses until Maria came between them.
The story with Maria was an old one. Two men loved her. She chose Iannis. A few years into the marriage, Pavlos seduced her. She turned up pregnant. The father could be either man. She died in childbirth. Tests were done to confirm Iannis was the father, but the men still vowed to hate each other until their dying day.
Thyssen never doubted that Iannis was his father. They were a biological match for sure, but also had a connection that went deeper, and had been cultivated and nurtured through the years of Iannis raising him alone. There was no other wife for Iannis, just time spent with his son. There had been plenty of women, but no other mother for his boy. When Thyssen was in his teen years, Iannis gave him a letter from Maria, written on the day she found out she was pregnant. Thyssen didn’t remember the words, only the gist of what she wrote, and the last line which read: No matter who your father turns out to be, they are both superior men, and if you ever find yourself in trouble, I know that you can go to either for help.
Thyssen looked at his father. “I dried out with him, and wanted to help before I left.”
“Contracts?” Iannis shook his head.
“Yes. Five.”
“That’s a hell of a thank you, boy.”
“They were piece of shit crooks. Dealers. Gamblers. Two were into him for big money. It was the last one that was different.”
“Of course it was.” Iannis spat. “Another professional.”
“Yes.”
“Greek.”
“Yes.”
“Fucking prick. And you missed.”
Thyssen nodded.
“Now he hunts you.”
“Yes.”
It was a stupid mistake. An arrogant one. The Stop was a professional killer, sent to put a stop to Pavlos’s enemy’s son, and Thyssen should have seen it coming.
*****
Thyssen sat on the wooden Adirondack chair and stared out at the crashing surf as it broke onto the rocks. He never should have come here, not yet, and brought this kind of trouble to Charlotte and his son’s door, but his feet had just followed his dazed and fevered mind home. His subconscious knew he was trying to make his way back here to her, earn his way home once he finished the contracts for Stephanopoulos, so he supposed fate had brought him to be lying at her feet in the shed.
He should have been on his fucking knees.
Gulls squawked and swooped over the water as if making their agreement known.
First thing in the morning he would backtrack to everything he could remember of his movements to see what kind of trail he left for The Stop to follow. Then he needed to track that killer down and end this chase before it got out of hand. Only then could he even hope to set things right with Charlotte. Meet his son. Try to be a father . . . if Charlotte let him.
Fuck, he hoped she let him. So far, the only thing he’d seen of her was the fleeting glance of her when he woke up. She had successfully avoided him all day and made sure their son did not come near him. But Thyssen had heard him, peals of laughter filtering in the window or under the door. He wondered what he looked like now.
He’d known Charlotte since they were kids, when his father brought him here to hunt and fish. He never really noticed her much at first; most of his time here was spent out on the water or in the bush. When they were teens, she started helping her mother out in the Inn. His memory of the first day he noticed her, really noticed her, was so clear in his mind it could have yesterday. He’d strolled into the main door, tired as hell from hours of driving, bleary eyed with his father’s cigarette smoke in the truck cab. It didn’t matter if the windows were rolled down, the smoke still blew back inside. When he found the inn’s desk empty, he dinged the bell loudly.
Charlotte had stormed around the corner like an avenging angel. Her dark red bun half fallen down her back and in her face. Her grey eyes were sharp on him, and her neat little body somehow bore down on his bigger one with determination. He literally held his hands up and backed away as she approached.
A noise behind Thyssen broke into his memory.
“I see you’re still alive.”
He gave a half smile at the caustic tone of her voice behind him, even as his body hardened at feeling her so close again. This face-to-face confrontation with her had been years in coming, and his body was putting up its shields up despite him wanting to be open and receptive to whatever she decided to throw at him. It was the solider in him. Always prepared for battle.
He kept his eyes on the water. “Hangin in.” He’d always been comfortable on the water, in the water, and around water. It was had made him such a good SEAL.
“Hmph.” She came around his chair and leaned on the wooden rail. “Bloody assassins never get it right. I should have saved my money.”
He squinted up at her. Still so fucking beautiful. That had not changed. Not even a little bit. Her red waves were loose, her grey eyes still sharp and assessing, able to see right through his crap, and steady on him. Her body was now rounded into curves, he guessed from having their baby, which made her so much more of a woman now. The way she filled out the skinny jeans and fitted T-shirt she wore was sexy as hell.
Fuck he was such a bastard saying what he did. Walking away and not coming back. He may not have been up to being a father back then, or to being the man she needed, but he should have at least tried and not left her alone. He should have manned up and done fucking something instead of fuck-all nothing.
“Thank you for not throwing me out on my ass again.”
“Pfff.” She narrowed her eyes, and he could see the storm of words gathering behind them. Three years’ worth of built-up shit could be spewed at him any minute. “I never turn away any guest. You know that.”
He sat forward. “Lucky—”
“Don’t call me that.” She held up a hand.
He gritted his teeth and tried again. “I know I have a lot to answer for.”
“No you don’t.” She pushed off the rail. “I came out here to tell you I want you gone. In the morning. Before I get up. I don’t want to get up and find you still here.”
He wanted to stand up too, gain some advantage by dominating her space. He was miles taller and broader than her and had been conditioned to use everything he had in him and around him to subjugate situations to his advantage. But this was Lucky and he was in the wrong, so he forced himself to say down. “Charlotte . . .” He looked up at her, but she spoke right over to him.
“You don’t get to see Ian. You don’t get to apologize. You don’t get to come back here to ease your conscience and make nice.”
“I want to explain—”
Her eyes darkened. “You don’t get to do that either.” She turned to leave.
This time he stood up directly in her path, her womanly frame colliding with his. Sharp slivers of heat knifed through him every place their bodies touched. “Luck—Charlotte, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her pupils iced over and glistened hard at him. “That is such a small thing to say.” She stepped back and hopped ov
er the wooden rail onto the rocks just below.
He did not see that coming.
She put her hands flat on the wooden planked top. “And I don’t know what kind of trouble you’ve got on your tail, but take whatever it is with you when you go. Your ‘sorry’ will not protect my son.”
“Our son.” The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Her eyes held his. “Your son. Tell me, Thyssen, how much did your son weigh when he was born? Can he eat peas? What does he like to sleep with? Is he potty trained? How about the color of his eyes? What do you know about your son?” She flattened her mouth into line of complete disgust before she pushed off the rail and headed off into the night.
He watched the line of her back for a moment before he spoke. “Ten pounds. Hates peas. My old fishing bear. Uses pull ups. Has his mother’s grey eyes.”
***
How they hell did he know all that? Charlotte insides still shook as she tried to snap Ian into his car seat the next morning. Her fingers wouldn’t cooperate, so it took her two tries. Finally the pieces clicked in the place.
“There we go,” she huffed and closed the door. Her mind wouldn’t stop beating questions at her though.
Thyssen could have asked Iannis about her questions. Her father-in-law knew everything there was to know about Ian, but last night her questions had been random, and spontaneous, not things Thyssen could or would have asked his father about after waking up from a fever yesterday.
She pulled open the inn’s work truck door and jumped into the front cab before pulling quietly away from the work shed. Everything was quiet with everyone still asleep or just waking up at this hour of the morning.
She needed to get out there before she stormed back to Thyssen’s room and demanded answers. She’d almost done just that at least nine times last night so she was operating this morning on very little sleep. God damn that man!
And what exactly was he sorry for? Leaving, staying away, or ripping my heart out?
And where has he been for the last three years? Walmart or the CIA? Either? How does he know so much about Ian? Was he kicked out of the Navy or did he leave? Did he miss her? Ian? The life they had together?
She had so many built up questions she was terrified of asking even one lest it be the flood gate that opened to all the others, the barrage beyond her control.
Thyssen fucking Skalas. Washed back up on her door, looking so dangerously vulnerable. He was the same old Thyssen, but in some ways he seemed so very different. An unnaturally hard edge and aggression lay behind his eyes now. Thyssen was always rough, but in an outdoor mountain man kind of way. She was used to that. He’d become a soldier and adopted a certain confident aloof air after he’d joined the Navy and become a sailor. She got used to that too. But, after he’d become a SEAL he’d become a whole different animal. And now there was more, this street gutter hardness. That was something she didn’t know anything about.
Who was he now? She had no idea and was almost scared to find out. She didn’t know what to do with the dark stranger back at the inn. She’d always thought Thyssen would age like Iannis, into a rough Greek gentleman but he was off in a direction all on his own.
She glanced back at her son in the rearview mirror. Her son was looking out the window with the kind of eagerness only a toddler could have at this time in the morning. Iannis had given her a photo album of pictures of Thyssen when he was young. Ian looked exactly like the three-year-old Thyssen. Painfully so, with a slight mix of her family. Dark black hair with a red tinge, dark grey eyes in olive skin. He had a pouty little mouth and dimpled cheeks that popped out when he laughed. Her son was adorable mix of dark Greek prince and highland Scot clansman.
Charlotte pulled onto the empty tree-lined highway that followed the waterline and beautiful stretch of the bay. The roadway was pleasantly deserted in the predawn morning. It was exactly how she loved it and if not for Thyssen, would be thoroughly enjoying it on her balcony having her coffee before starting the day’s rush.
She checked Ian in the rearview again, and noticed a car coming up behind her. “He’s flying low,” she mumbled, slowing slightly so he could pass. He didn’t though, and instead pulled right up to her bumper and sat there. “Asshole,” she frowned.
“Asshole,” Ian echoed.
“Ian,” she said through gritted teeth, and looked from the rearview to a few cars approaching in the other lane. Clearly they were the reason the car behind her didn’t just pass her. She looked into her rearview again when the cars on the other side passed. The car behind her finally pulled out to pass. She glanced out her window to see a woman or maybe a very short man in a hoodie breeze past her. She looked out her front windshield in time to see the car jerk directly in front of her front bumper. “Shit!” She yanked the steering wheel right, immediately furious at herself when she hit the roadside gravel and started to skid. “Dammit!” Her heart slammed into her chest as the truck twisted toward the embankment. “Ian!” Her eyes went to the rearview as the truck started to roll.
*****
Charlotte slowly opened her eyes to realize she was hanging upside down in her seat belt. “Ian!!” She twisted and screamed at the bolt of pain through her back. “Oh my God, Ian!”
“Mommy!” he cried from behind her. “All done rolling, all done!”
Painful relief at his voice made her limbs go weak. He’s alive. Terrified, but alive. “Hold on honey.” She unclipped her seat belt and fell onto the ceiling. More pain shot through her body.
“Ma’am?” A deep male voice said before someone knocked on the window beside her. “Are you okay? Ma’am?”
“My baby—” she crawled over the middle console through to the back seat. Pain jabbed at her knee. She looked down at her fractured cell phone screen. Absently she picked it up before she grabbed onto Ian car seat. “Hold on, honey. It’s okay.” She fumbled around to unclip the five point seat belt. “It’s okay.”
“Don’t like this, Mommy, don’t like upside down!” the toddler cried. He cried again as he fell into her weak arms.
“Ma’am—” said the man’s voice as the truck door flung open. “Here, let me take him—” a pair of big male hands reached inside the back cab and took Ian as she crawled out of the truck.
“Don’t drop him!” her voice cracked urgently as she let go of her baby and heaved her body out of the truck and into long strands of damp grass. A kaleidoscope of brown earth, green grass and blue sky spun around her. “Ian?” she croaked and tried to roll over.
“Don’t move. He’s here,” said the man’s voice. Ian was set down beside her.
She grabbed onto him and held him, closing her eyes and crying. “Thank God,” her throat constricted around the words. “Thank you.” She opened her eyes to a pair of black boots beside her head. She put her hand on them, dropping her cell in the process.
“9-1-1” she whispered and reached for it, jabbing at the button, even as the sound of sirens faded into her awareness.
“Don’t move. They’re here,” said the man. She heard his boots walk away.
“Ya? Lucky?” A voice on the cell asked. “That you?”
Thyssen? She frowned. What was he doing here? “I’m in a ditch,” she sobbed holding Ian tighter. She must have called home, hit redial or something.
“Ma’am?” said a voice from somewhere above her. “Stay still.” A paramedic’s dark blue uniform appeared before her eyes. “Can you let go of the baby? I need to check him.” His voice was deep and calm and reassuring.
“Lucky!” Thyssen’s voice demanded through the cell phone.
The paramedic took Ian from her arms. “No—” panic roared through her body as Ian body disappeared through her fingers. “Don’t—”
“It’s okay.” The paramedic reassured her as a stretcher rolled in beside her. “He’s okay. He’ll be right here. What’s his name?”
“Ian,” she answered. She watched another paramedic check her little boy’s body. Is he oka
y?”
“Looks to be,” the paramedic spoke quietly to him, reassuring words of what he was doing. Ian just blinked at the man. “We still need to get you both to the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” she said when hands moved along her body. “Just a bit dizzy but I’m okay.” She watched the paramedic lift Ian onto the stretcher as another one wrapped straps around his little body then covered him with a blanket.
“The man,” she croaked, turning her head toward the flashing lights above her on the embankment. “He saved us.”
“What man?” the paramedic said. He looked down at her and flashed a light into her eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Charlotte.”
“Just relax, Charlotte. We’re going to get you to the hospital.”
“He was right here. Wearing black boots. He helped us out of the truck.” She turned her head but all she saw were the tall strands of grass. “He was right here.” She was lifted onto the stretcher and wrapped in a blanket. She closed her eyes. What the hell?
“Mommy? We go for a ride?” Ian’s little voice said. She looked over at him. Thank God he was okay. Thank God.
“Okay, go,” the paramedic’s voice said above her before she felt the stretcher beneath her move. She kept her eyes on Ian’s stretcher which moved alongside hers, but glanced from side to find the man in the boots.
Nothing.
Flashing lights and voices came from all around her as the stretchers rolled onto the highway. In seconds she and Ian were lifted into the back of an ambulance before the heavy doors swung closed and the vehicle sped away.
Where was that man in the boots who saved them?
***
Thyssen pounded on his father’s truck dashboard and glared out the front windshield. “Can’t you move this piece of shit any faster?” He gripped the molded plastic and stared at Iannis.
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