by Shayla Black
Even the woman’s name pissed her off.
Hallie howled again, and Tessa jogged down the hall. “Coming, baby girl.”
When she rounded the corner, Hallie sat up in her crib, cheeks red and tears perched on the edges of her long, wispy lashes. She stopped wailing and dialed her unhappiness back to a pout when she caught sight of Tess.
“What’s the matter, sweet pea? Bad dream?”
Hallie stuck her pink bottom lip out just a bit more.
“Come here.” She reached into the crib.
Her daughter met her halfway, raising her arms like she couldn’t wait for Tessa to hold her.
These were some of the moments she loved being a mommy most—the closeness, the cuddling, the sweetness. The fact Hallie seemed to love it, too, filled Tessa’s heart full.
After a fresh diaper and a wardrobe change into a pink dress with a cute matching floral headband, she smiled big at her daughter. “You hungry?”
Hallie made grunting noises, slapping her little legs as she gurgled and grinned.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She lifted Hallie off her changing table, warmed her bottle, then took a deep breath.
This was it.
“Time to meet your daddy, sweet pea.”
Tessa stepped onto the back patio to find Cash standing beside one of the bright rockers she’d found at a thrift store and repainted. He was furiously texting and cursing under his breath—until she shut the back door. Then he stopped and pocketed his phone.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Just—” He shook his head. “Annoying people. Not important.” Then he turned his attention on Hallie. “This is who I’m here to meet. Wow, she’s gorgeous.”
“She really is.”
“Look at her…” he said with wonder. “She has my hair, but she has your eyes.”
“Yeah.” Tessa smiled fondly. “It’s so interesting to look at her and see parts of us both. And it’s more pronounced every day.”
Hallie stared at Cash. Then she fell silent, frowned, and buried her face in Tessa’s shoulder.
“She’s barely awake. And she’s a little shy with strangers,” she explained, patting the baby’s back.
“I understand. Hell—I mean, heck—I’m not too good with strangers, either.”
Tessa carried Hallie to the bright pink rocker, leaving the turquoise one to Cash. They both sat, and he watched with wonder as Hallie started to eat.
“She looks healthy.”
“She’s still a little underweight for her age, but the pediatrician isn’t worried.”
“Good.” Cash just stared at Hallie as if she was the most amazing being on the planet. “Tell me everything about her.”
Tessa hit the high points, talking about Hallie’s birth, her first few days home, the long weeks she had her days and nights mixed up, and the difficulty of putting her in daycare when Tessa’s heart had urged her to stay home with her beautiful baby girl.
“You’ve done amazing by yourself. I can’t imagine how difficult all that was and you just…did it.”
“I had to.”
He nodded. “And I was a coward.”
“You’re Peter Pan,” she corrected. “I don’t think you’re afraid of difficulty or hard work. It’s that you never wanted to grow up.”
“You’re right. And rehab has given me new perspective. Now I am grown up. I want to stand on my own two feet.” He shook his head. “I never want to feel like a ridiculous screwup again. It’s a shame I refuse to repeat.”
Maybe he meant that. Maybe the difficulty of overcoming his addiction to alcohol had fundamentally changed the way he viewed himself and life. And maybe he was blowing smoke up her ass.
When Hallie had finished with her bottle, Tessa set it on the table beside her and sat Hallie on her knee, bouncing her and making happy baby noises.
“You’re a natural.”
“When you’re a parent, you have to be.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He let out a breath. “Can I hold her?”
Instinctively, she pulled her daughter closer. “I don’t know if either of us is ready for that.”
Cash pressed his lips together. She was sorry if her answer upset him, but she had to be practical.
“I get it.” He sent her a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”
They made small talk for another few minutes, but Hallie got cranky in the heat. Even with the ceiling fan on high, Cash started sweating, and Tessa felt as if she needed another shower.
She stood. “I should take Hallie in.”
He followed suit, rising from the rocker. “I understand. I wouldn’t want her to overheat or anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I see her tomorrow?”
“I have to work.”
“Right. I know. I just thought afterward… Maybe if I brought some dinner, we could eat it together?”
Tessa gnawed on her lip. On the one hand, it was hard not to still feel angry at him. On the other, if she was angry with him for running out on her when she’d needed help, pushing him away now that he was willing to pitch in seemed counterintuitive.
She sighed. “All right. Six o’clock?”
“Perfect.” He smiled like he’d just won the lottery. “Fried chicken okay?”
Tessa shouldn’t. Since she was no longer nursing, it seemed as if she had to watch every calorie to maintain her weight, but he knew this great little hole-in-the-wall that made amazing Southern food, and it had been so long… “You’re on.”
“I knew you couldn’t say no to that.” He took her hand and a half a step toward her, into her personal space. “And I intend to keep doing all the right things because I don’t want you to keep saying no to us being a family.”
“Cash, I don’t think—”
“I know what you’re going to say. It’s too soon. I’m moving too fast. You’re not sure you can trust me yet. I get it. But I want you to think about it.”
“Think about what exactly?”
“Well, if we’re going to be full-time parents to Hallie, so she’ll always know life with a mom and a dad and a happy home, we should move in together.”
Tessa gaped. She’d ask if Cash was crazy, but his expression told her he was dead serious.
Holy cow.
When she opened her mouth to refute him, he shook his head. “Don’t say anything now, babe. Just think about it. And give me some time to prove I’ll be the best dad—and man—ever.”
August 22
Weeks passed, and shit went from bad to worse.
Zy knew he’d been an ass, so a few days ago he’d decided to swallow his pride and apologize to Tessa. He owed her that since she probably thought he blamed her for ending them. He had for ten minutes—long enough to behave like a douche and call Madison. More than anything, he’d been frustrated that Tessa had signed her contract without talking to him. He’d been on the verge of spitting out an impulsive idea that they move in together. It had made perfect sense in the moment. She could quit and stay home with Hallie. He made enough to support them both. They could be a family.
Dream on, buddy.
After her experience with Cash, what were the odds she wanted to depend on any man, much less commit to one she’d never even kissed?
In fairness, to be with her, he could have quit himself. He would have found another job eventually, though not in his field. He’d had choices, but he hadn’t been thinking that day about anything except his fucking heart breaking.
After that, he’d avoided her because looking at her hurt and it was easier than saying he was sorry. But after six weeks of silence, he couldn’t take it anymore.
A few mornings ago, he’d waited for Tessa at her desk, an apology perched on the tip of his tongue. She’d blown him off. Totally. Oh, she’d smiled politely. Her manners were too good to berate him in the office, but she’d also skittishly avoided meeting his stare and standoffishly substituted nods for replies. Clearly, he�
��d hurt her. And why should she forgive him?
One-Mile rubbernecking as he passed hadn’t helped his mood, either. If the sniper was interested in Tessa, he’d have to walk through hell—and over Zy’s dead body—to touch her. Didn’t the bastard already have his hands full? Less than a week ago, he’d gotten Cutter out of a hostage situation—then apparently slept with the guy’s girlfriend just because he could. The blood between them had gone from bad after their failed Mexico mission in March to so bad the throw down coming would end with someone in a body bag.
Things only went downhill from there.
Forty-eight hours ago, Trees and One-Mile had gone to Mexico again for undisclosed reasons, but Zy guessed it had something to do with figuring out what had gone wrong the last time they’d set foot in that godforsaken desert. And son of a bitch if Trees and One-Mile hadn’t been surrounded by Emilo Montilla’s thugs in a parking lot outside a restaurant. Trees had managed to think fast and drive away—thank fuck—only to mysteriously wake up twelve hours later outside a police station. Apparently, his food had been drugged. After twenty-four hours at the hospital in New Orleans, he was returning tonight to Lafayette.
One-Mile hadn’t been so lucky. He’d been beaten, subdued, and taken. And who the fuck knew what the sniper was enduring—or if he was still alive. They couldn’t even undertake a rescue mission because they had no intel about which of the drug lord’s hidden compounds he was being kept in.
The bosses were on edge, as was the rest of the team.
So when Zy got a text late Friday afternoon to present himself before quitting time, he made his way down the hall.
“You wanted to see me?” He poked his head into Joaquin Muñoz’s office, formerly known as the copier room.
Since the trio of new bosses had taken over, he’d had a hard time thinking of this space as a serious office, but now that he stepped into the room with the blinds drawn, the formidable desk in the center, and the big, silent operative sitting behind it, Zy wasn’t laughing.
“Close the door and sit down,” Joaquin said, gesturing him to the corner, as if the guy had shoved the guest chair there because he knew a boss should have one, but he’d rather not bother.
Still, he eased onto the hard plastic with a nod. “What do you need? Got anything new on Walker?”
Joaquin planted his meaty arms on his desk and leaned in. Zy had the impression this was about as personable as the guy got.
“Nothing yet. But I need to talk to you. About Trees.”
Zy froze. “Is he okay?”
Nothing better have happened to him. Forest Scott was the closest thing he had to a brother. His biological sibling had stopped speaking to him a decade ago. His parents had turned their backs when he’d flatly refused to accept the golden ticket to the Ivy League education his father had bought him and he’d joined the army instead.
“Fine.”
Okay… “So what’s up?”
“Does your buddy have any problems?”
Zy shifted in his chair. He couldn’t escape the feeling this had morphed from a chat to an interrogation. “Problems?”
“With money?”
Except what he spent on prepping, Trees had pretty much saved every dime he’d ever made. He was loaded—and then some. “No.”
“With a woman?”
“No.”
In fact, after taking Madison to dinner nearly six weeks ago, they’d become friends. They hung out, and she’d introduced him to a whole circle of locals. They’d even invited him to a concert in the park last weekend. But they weren’t hooking up. And as far as Zy could tell, Trees was okay with that.
“Does he owe anyone anything?”
No, but Zy didn’t like Joaquin’s tone or direction. “What do you really want to know? Because it sounds like you’re accusing him of something.”
Joaquin hesitated, jaw clenched. “We might have a mole.”
“An internal mole?”
“I don’t mean a rodent.”
“And you suspect Trees?”
“We haven’t decided anything,” Joaquin hedged. “But we need to figure out what’s going on. All we know is the score: Emilo Montilla two, our team zero. Both times our ops went south, they knew exactly where and when we’d be. That’s not a coincidence.”
It probably wasn’t, but… “You’re zeroing in on Trees because he made it out of Mexico this week and One-Mile didn’t.”
“It’s one reason, and you’ve got to admit it’s logical.”
“Maybe, but Trees had nothing to do with it. He would never sell us out.”
“You’re probably right. And he’s not the only possibility we’re considering. Hell, possible our communications were hacked. But he’s the one you can answer questions about.”
There was a whole lot Joaquin wasn’t telling him, and it chafed Zy. “I could answer a thousand questions, and Trees still wouldn’t be guilty. Why aren’t you focusing on where to find One-Mile so we can rescue him?”
“We are. Hunter, Logan, and I have had eight hours of sleep between us in the last two days. Since we don’t have any other leads, we finally decided to retrace our steps and see if that could give us any clue where to find him.”
“I want to help.”
Joaquin sighed tiredly. “That mission to Mexico back in March?”
His first one with this team? The one they’d had to abort? “What about it?”
“It’s taken us awhile to break that down because we’ve had our hands full.”
They had. Getting the business transferred to their names and getting the word out to key clients that the team was under new management. They’d had to undergo some construction in the office. Meanwhile, Hunter’s wife had given birth to a son in May. Logan had been transitioning from frogman to boss. And the taciturn brother in front of him had been planning a wedding. Missions had been coming in, and everything had been just shy of insane.
“For sure.”
“We’re finally fine-tooth-combing that gig to figure out what went wrong. We’ve been trying to include Caleb in the discussion but”—he shook his head like he was disgusted—“my mother has kept him busy with a tour of east Texas bed-and-breakfasts and wine-country antique stores for weeks. While planning their big upcoming cruise. He’s thrilled, by the way.”
Beyond the fact the colonel was the last person Zy could picture hanging out happily on a big-ass boat while grazing at the buffet, Joaquin had actually told a joke. “I’m sure. It sounds horrible.”
“It does. I’m grateful Bailey chose something way less mind-numbing for our honeymoon. Anyway, now that we’re deep-diving into that trip, Hunter, Logan, and I have come to the inescapable conclusion that somehow our information fell into Montilla’s hands.”
At the time, Zy’s gut had told him there was something fishy happening, but everything had gone down way too fast for him to discern what. And he’d traveled straight from Mexico to the hospital to Tessa’s place…and ended up leaving with his gut tied in knots. “I don’t know of any reason for Trees to have betrayed One-Mile or the rest of the team.”
Suddenly, Joaquin pasted on his version of an affable smile. “It was a long shot, but I figured it was worth the ask. You going to pick up Trees at the airport?”
Zy didn’t believe the quick change of subject, but he played along. “Yeah. He should land in about an hour.”
“Glad he made it home in one piece. Why don’t you get out of here? Unless we get some word on One-Mile’s location, I’ll see you Monday.”
Joaquin and the bosses wanted to talk about him behind his back? Decide whether he was being honest? Fine by him. Maybe a couple of days away from this shit, hanging out with Trees and downing some beer, would improve his mood.
Back at his desk, he grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and pocketed his phone, then headed toward the front of the office and the door that would let him escape this asylum.
He stopped short when he saw Cash Bennett—spiked hair, classic aviator
s, loud graphic T-shirt, and baggy-ass jeans—leaning on Tess’s desk as if he had every right to be there. His protective instincts flared. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The asshole just smiled. “Waiting for my girlfriend. She’s in the restroom, but once she comes out, we’ll be leaving to pick up our daughter and spend a quiet evening together.”
She was dating this douche again? “Bullshit. She has a restraining order against you.”
“She did,” he admits. “She lifted it a few weeks ago. You know, when I moved in.”
He was living with Tessa?
That had to be a lie. If it wasn’t… Just the thought of this slime cohabitating made his blood boil. “I don’t believe you.”
He reached into his pocket and produced a jingling ring, singling out one shiny key in particular. “This is mine. I moved in almost two weeks ago.” He leaned in. “And unlike you, pal, I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”
Zy had to muster all his will not to lay waste to the motherfucker right here, right now.
Cash laughed. “You should see your face. You’ve got it bad for her. Back in March, you wanted to do more to her body than guard it, but you never did. And now she’s mine again.” He dropped his voice. “In case you were wondering, we fuck. All. The. Time. She’s a lady in the kitchen but a total whore in the bedroom. And I’m here for it.”
That did it. Zy was going to punch him like a bag, and he didn’t give a shit if he got fired or arrested.
He lurched at Cash, grabbed the asswipe by his shirt, and reared back his fist.
“What are you doing?” Tessa screeched. “Stop!”
Zy didn’t let go, just glared at her. “He moved in with you?”
She stepped back. Her face blanked.
He knew it was true before she opened her mouth.
“A couple of weeks ago.”
