by Cat Johnson
But alas, that was not going to happen now. She sighed. "So where do we go from here?”
She asked the question with the feeling of loss growing inside her. He’d already left her bed. Next, he was going to walk out of her life. She could feel it. Just like he had in Djibouti. One minute he was there and the next—poof—he was gone.
“Well, I have a proposal.”
His words perked her flagging mood. Proposals were good. She liked proposals. “I’m listening.”
“You go back home the day after tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“When you’re home, I want you to consider talking to your therapist about what you’re feeling toward me.”
“No. I went through hours of therapy, from the moment we landed in Djibouti, then more in Germany, and then more after I got home. I’m done.”
Grant held up a hand to silence her rant. “Okay, no therapy. Will you at least think about it? I need you to consider what you’re feeling and why. Make sure it’s me you’re interested in and this isn’t some misplaced hero worship. Will you do that, please? For me?”
“Yes.” She'd do anything for him.
“Good. And after you do, and you figure out your feelings, we’ll talk.”
His plan was starting to frustrate her. She knew what her feelings were for him. All Grant was doing was denying his own feelings. “How can we talk? I’ll be in Ohio. You’ll be in Virginia.”
“There are phones.” As she pouted, he continued, “And planes. And trains. And cars. The point is we’ll decide then, together, if we’re going to be just acquaintances or friends or . . . more.”
More. She liked that part. “And you’d be fine with whatever I decide?” she asked, suspicious if this was just a ploy to make her happy before he disappeared again.
“Yes.”
She wasn't sure she believed him. “Why?”
“Because even with as messed up as I am right now I know one thing, you’re going to be a part of my life in one way or another.”
“Really?” God, she had it bad. Even Grant's rejections made her heart flutter.
He nodded. “Yeah. We’re connected now. And depending on how this plays out, that might mean not much more than phone calls and texts, and a visit with your family once in a while. We’ll figure it out.”
“Is that what you want? Friendly visits and Christmas cards once a year?”
“It’s what I’d accept if that’s what we decide.”
“And if I decide I want more?” Much, much more.
“Then we’ll figure out what that’ll entail too. Together.”
Oh, she knew what that would entail, but that other part, the together part, sounded pretty good to her. “Okay.”
He cocked up one brow. “You’re not going to argue?”
“Nope.”
“Forgive me if that makes me suspicious.”
“You’re forgiven . . .” She walked closer and pressed her hands to his chest. Rising on tiptoe she leaned toward his mouth.
“Jen—”
“Come on, Grant. Just. One. More. Little. Kiss.” She pressed her lips to his between each word.
A smile twitched up the corners of Grant’s mouth even as he wrapped his hands around each of her arms. “Believe me, Jen. When and if the time is right you won’t be able to keep me from kissing you. And when and if this happens it is not going to be within earshot of your parents.”
He glanced again at the door.
She sighed. This would be the last time she got adjoining rooms with her parents. “Okay. But I’m not going to be able to sleep anymore this morning. I’m too awake.”
“Yeah. Me too. Breakfast?” he asked.
“Okay.”
“There’s an all night diner not too far from here. We can walk. But write a note for your parents and slide it under the door so they don’t worry. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him her approximation of a salute and saw him shake his head at her before she spun for the desk to get pen and paper.
Breakfast with Grant sounded like the perfect way to start a day, but she had to think that sex with him would have been even better.
Chapter 13
Saying goodbye to Jen that morning had been much harder than Grant would like to admit.
As he neared Virginia Beach, she was still only a couple of hours away in DC, but when she went back home with her parents she’d be too far from him for comfort. He hated that idea.
Jeez, he was in trouble.
He suspected as much when he’d kissed her, but that he could have written off as just physical. Attraction coupled with the fact he’d been in a long sexless estrangement from Bethany.
But these feelings . . . this felt more like he missed Jen.
All of her.
Her smile. Her laugh. Her belief she could change the world and her willingness to try, even now after all she’d been through.
She was an idealist and he was a realist. But he didn’t dampen her brilliant ideas for the future with his knowledge of the horrors of the present.
He let her bright outlook lift some of the darkness that had settled in him over the years.
They’d talked about her work—what had brought her to Africa in the first place. She wanted to save everyone, but the children most especially because they were the future.
Jen’s passion when she believed strongly in something touched him the most . . . although so did her passion when she'd kissed him.
Even with as conflicted as he was about her, he smiled at that memory.
He wouldn’t have thought he’d known Jen long enough to miss her but damned if he didn’t have all the symptoms. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop himself from planning when he might be able to talk to her again.
Worst of all, he couldn’t prevent the slightly ill feeling inside him at the thought she would go home and do as he’d asked—think about her feelings regarding him and decide it was just gratitude because he’d been there to save her.
He was in the same boat as she was as far as not being able to trust his own feelings.
She’d come into his life just as it had been turned completely upside down by this divorce. He could be confused about his feelings too. Looking for a rebound. A bandage to cover the pain.
His contemplation of Jen and that kiss had occupied Grant’s mind for the first half of the drive back home, but now his thoughts turned to the paperwork currently riding shotgun in the pocket of his duffle bag in the passenger seat.
He’d forced himself to read every word before signing it.
It seemed pretty straightforward to him, but he wasn't a lawyer so what did he know? His reading it over wasn’t good enough. He probably should have the Legal Department on base take a look too. Make sure Bethany’s lawyer wasn’t trying to pull a fast one, because it seemed odd to Grant she’d asked for so little.
In fact, Grant was shocked she wasn't trying to get more. He knew well what one of his guys had gone through during his divorce.
Poor Thom was still paying through the nose years after his divorce had been finalized. But there were two young kids involved in that break-up and the marriage had lasted longer than Grant’s had.
The guy was still living in the bachelor barracks because he couldn’t afford rent on another place after what he gave his ex-wife each month was deducted from his pay.
The fact Grant seemed to be getting off easy in this divorce made him suspicious.
Maybe he was just looking for problems where there were none. There really had been nothing out of the ordinary in the document that he could see.
So he had two options. He could book an appointment with Legal and hope they could help him. Or he could trust she wasn’t trying to screw him and just drop the signed papers off at her place.
How good would it feel to just be done with the whole thing? To be able to freely move on with his life.
Judging by how he’d jumped on Jen, he was more than rea
dy to do that.
As Grant pondered his next move a thought struck him—he couldn't drop off the papers since he didn’t even know where Bethany was staying.
She’d insisted on meeting him at the diner to talk so he never got an address. He’d assumed it was close by but he really didn’t know.
A frown drew his brows low. He didn’t like that he didn’t know where his own dog was. Jen was right, if he couldn’t have custody he’d at least like to visit Beau once in a while, but that would require an address.
Grant grabbed the cell phone in his center console and picked it up. He hit the voice command button and said into the phone, “Call Wife.”
The phone repeated, “Calling Wife.”
That listing in his contacts was going to have to be edited as soon as he stopped the vehicle, although deleting it completely would feel even better.
Grant listened until finally Bethany’s voice replaced the ringing and then he said, “Hey, can I stop by today?”
“Um, why?” she asked.
His jaw clenched at the question. “Because I signed your papers and I thought you'd want them, that’s why. And I wanted to visit the dog.”
“Oh my God, you signed? That’s great. Thank you. I’ll meet you. Do you know the dog park on Division Street?”
No, he didn’t know any freaking dog park. Grant took the dog on his runs with him through the neighborhood by their house. Not to sit on some bench in a park. “The dog park? Why can’t I just come to your place?”
The pause in the conversation stretched on so long he glanced at the cell’s display to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.
“Beth, you still there?”
“Yeah. Um, I’d rather you didn’t come here.”
Grant’s instincts kicked in followed closely by his suspicions.
“Why not, Bethany? Where are you staying?” His voice had sounded ominous even to his own ears as he asked the questions he had a feeling he already knew the answers to.
She wanted the divorce finished fast. She was walking away asking for not much more than her fair portion of their jointly shared property. And, this was the real kicker, she wouldn’t tell him where she was living.
Those pieces dropped into place until a picture began to form. A picture of Bethany and the new man in her life shacking up together—already—and with Grant’s dog.
Jesus. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.
He leaned on the accelerator a bit harder, half ready to kill her and whoever the guy was. That was a dangerous impulse for a man with his skills to have.
“Grant—“
“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” He disconnected the call and flung the cell into the console, trying to get himself under control.
There was still a chance he could be wrong and she wasn't already with another man.
Given that chance he wasn’t going to let himself overreact. He also wasn’t going to give her the benefit of the doubt.
He needed proof either way and he knew exactly where to go for it.
Chapter 14
Grant didn’t drive to his house. Instead he found himself pulling up in front of the offices of Guardian Angel Protection Services.
The door was unlocked as he pushed through and into the front office.
He was greeted by one of his former and also one of his best operators, Jon Rudnick.
“Hey, Grant. Great to see you, man. You just missed seeing Zane and Chris.”
Grant accepted Jon’s firm handshake as he glanced around him. The space was a testament to the success of the men who used to be under his command. It was a good reminder that when he was ready, there was life after the Navy.
“Good to see you too. Sorry I missed the guys. But the place looks real good.”
The GAPS office had filled up a bit since the only other time he’d visited there. That had been immediately after the company had taken over the space. Now there was furniture in the reception area, a large flat screen television and even some modern art hung on the wall.
“Yeah, Ali and Darci got a hold of the company credit card and decorated.” Rolling his eyes, Jon shook his head. “Thank God Ali’s too busy now with the baby to be messing around at the office. It’ll save GAPS a ton of money.”
“How is the little guy?” Grant asked.
“Real good. Growing like crazy.” In typical proud new father fashion Jon whipped out his cell phone and flashed Grant a picture of his new son.
“Yeah, I heard babies tend to do that.” Grant smiled.
Jon pocketed the cell and leaned back against the desk. “So, this a social call?”
“Um, not quite.”
“Okay.” The switch from friendly to businesslike was immediate in Jon. He tipped his head toward the doorway behind him. “Come on back to the conference room. It’s sound proofed and bug proofed and swept daily for surveillance.”
Leave it to a bunch of SEALs to take private security to the highest level.
His issues weren’t a matter of national security, but Grant wouldn’t mind having this discussion in the conference room. It was a setting he was used to. Comfortable in.
Jon closed the thick metal door and paused next to the chair Grant sat in. “You want me to put your personal cell phone in the jammer?”
Grant laughed. This was security bordering on paranoia but he couldn’t fault the guys. In fact, he felt a kind of pride in his former operators for being so thorough. “Uh, no. This isn’t Navy business. It’s personal.”
Nodding, Jon took a seat opposite Grant. “All right. What’s up?”
“Bethany asked for a divorce.”
Jon’s drew his dark brows low. “Oh, man. That’s tough. I’m really sorry, Grant.”
Grant tipped his head to accept Jon’s sentiment. “Anyway, I have no hard evidence, just a gut feeling and a suspicion from the way she’s been acting, but I think there might be . . . another guy.”
That last part had been harder to admit to another man—one who used to be his subordinate—than Grant had imagined it would be.
“You want GAPS to find you proof?”
“Proof either way. If there’s not another guy that’s fine. Hell, even if there is that will be fine too. This divorce is happening either way and I’ve made my peace with that. I guess it’s just me needing to know. My pride maybe.” Grant shrugged. “I want the truth no matter what and it feels like I’m not getting it from her.”
“With all due respect, we don’t usually get into tailing cheating spouses for divorce cases here at GAPS.”
God, he really had sunk low. Bothering men who’d served on the most elite team in the Navy with a matter better suited for any private investigator he could find with a search on the internet.
“I know. You’re right. Shit, Jon, I apologize. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Grant braced his palms on the table about to stand.
“Grant, there’s no apologies necessary. And what I was going to say is we don’t usually do it for anyone but we definitely can . . . for a friend.”
Grant eased back into the chair. “You sure? I don’t want to—”
Jon help up one hand to stop him. “It’s fine. Really. We hired a new computer guy recently. He’s good. We might be able to handle this all through cyberspace.”
“Yeah. I don’t need pictures of her or anything. I really just want the address of where she’s moved to . . . and to know if she’s living there alone or with someone else.”
“All right. He should have an address for you in a matter of hours, if not less. That good?” Jon asked.
“Yeah. That would be good.” A small niggling voice Grant chose to ignore told him to be careful what he wished for.
“Okay, I’ll put you on the phone with him. You give him all the info you’ve got for Bethany and we’ll let him go to town on it. In the meantime, I was about to head to the range. You interested in blowing some holes in some paper men for an hour or so?”
Grant laughed. “I can�
�t think of anything I’d like better at the moment. And I want to pay you for this.”
Jon laughed. “No offense, but what GAPS usually charges you don’t wanna pay. Don’t worry, this one’s on us. Call it a friends and family discount.”
It had been foolish for Grant to even offer. He knew GAPS had huge governmental and private corporate contracts all over the world. When they weren’t doing that they were working security for Academy Award winning actresses and big name politicians.
“I want to at least compensate your computer guy for his time.”
Jon waived away the offer. “He’s on salary. And more than that he eats this kinda stuff up. If he’s not doing it for work, he’s doing it for fun. The other day he hacked into the servers of an agency I’m not at liberty to name just to see if he could.”
“And he got in?” Grant asked.
Jon grinned. “Oh yeah. Let’s just say I’m glad he’s on our side.”
Grant had to think he shared Jon’s sentiment.
“I’ll get him on the line.” As Jon scrolled through his cell phone Grant blew out a breath.
For better or worse, with this guy on the case he’d know what Bethany was hiding soon enough.
An hour later, Grant was in his happy place—shooting the shit out of some innocent targets and enjoying every squeeze of the trigger.
Behind the eye and ear protection and focused on nothing but the smell of the gunpowder, the muted noise of the many guns discharging, and the target in front of his sights, Grant was in his own world.
A world in which he could pretend nothing else existed except his need to put the round in the chamber through the symbolic heart of the paper outline of a man.
He was happy in that world—until Jon tapped him on the shoulder while he was reloading.
Grant put the gun down and slid off his ear protection. “Yeah?”
“Got an answer for you.” Jon held up his cell phone and Grant’s happy fantasy world bubble popped as surely as if he’d shot a hole through it.
Swallowing, he nodded. “Okay.”
Jon held out the cell with a look of resignation, hesitation and a healthy dose of sympathy on his face.
