Capturing Sosimo

by Sara Blackard

  A whistle sounded low and long in his earpiece. “Man, Sos. You got yourself a feisty one.” Rafe’s jovial tone came across the wire. “How is your happily ever after going for you?”

  “Rafe, I thought you had something you were supposed to be doing, like, I don’t know, maybe keeping surveillance on the video feeds?” Sosimo scanned the area until he saw Rafe and stared him down. “Or have all those video games finally rotted your head?”

  “Yeah, but that job’s not nearly as fun as the job you apparently have this weekend.” Rafe winked at him from across the ballroom before turning to go out the door. “I’m off to do the only actual work around here. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

  Sosimo rolled his eyes and went back to surveying the room. Sure, Reagan’s beauty surpassed a Colorado sunset over the Rocky Mountains, especially when they first got there and her ginger hair hung in soft waves down her back. But Reagan was not only rich as all get out, but smart. Women like that didn’t give poor immigrant men like him a second glance, especially when that man had barely graduated high school. No, he’d be keeping this weekend purely professional, even though he just landed himself the most gorgeous date he’d ever had.

  Three

  The next night, June flopped back onto her bed as exhaustion weighed down her legs and arms like the lead weights Special Ops members used in underwater training. Her dress pinched her skin, and she flinched. Who would’ve known that running a weekend like this would be so tiring? Fundraising proved worse than any of her stretches hermited in her lab, close to breaking through on an invention. That tired invigorated her. This just drained every ounce of life from her. Could she do this again next year like so many had asked, even with raising over fifty million dollars?

  She rolled off the bed ungracefully, standing in the dress that kept her from moving properly, and trudged to the dresser for her pajamas. She couldn’t wait to get this uncomfortable torture device off and slide beneath the covers. She tossed her sweats and T-shirt onto the bed and reached back to unzip her dress. She groaned and hung her head. How could she have forgotten that she needed help getting in and out of the ridiculous garment?

  She glanced at the closed door that led to the living room. One of the guys must still be up. Her fake boyfriend/annoying appendage had made the poor men take rotations keeping guard at night. An all-night guard seemed like overkill. He’d insisted it was necessary in that no-nonsense way he had operated in all weekend. While he kept her skin tingling all weekend with his guiding touches and was hotter than a Hot Tamale, his well-ordered plans and military tendencies had reminded her enough of her father to efficiently douse the tingles. Mostly.

  Maybe she could sleep in the dress, then call Mandy to come help before she ventured out of the bedroom in the morning. Wouldn’t that just reinforce the princess persona Sosimo had of her? When he’d called her princess for the first time, she’d almost throat punched him. What did it matter anyway? After tomorrow, she’d probably never see him again. Except she’d hired Stryker Security for her investor meeting she’d been able to arrange on Tuesday. Ugh. Two more days, then she’d never have to see him again.

  The ribbing of her dress pinched her stomach, and she knew sleeping wouldn’t happen in the stupid thing. She’d just march out there, ask whoever kept guard to help her out—literally—and march right back into her room. While she was at it, she’d grab her stash of Hot Tamales for a bedtime snack.

  She strode to the door and swung it open with determined force. She froze when Sosimo’s head snapped up from the computer set up at the table, his tired eyes full of concern. He’d changed into track pants and his T-shirt stretched tight against the muscles of his chest. He’d mussed his hair like he’d been running his hands through it. Maybe she could sleep in the stupid dress.

  “Everything okay?” His thick voice sent tendrils of nerves through her stomach.

  “Tamales. Hot Tamales.” She cringed and closed her eyes at his smirk. “Never mind.”

  “Hot Tamales sound pretty good right now.” He stood and walked toward the kitchenette.

  He rolled his neck, rubbing his shoulder. He had to be as exhausted as she was. Maybe she could convince him to just go to sleep. There had been no trouble all weekend long, and she doubted there would be. She could at least try to get him to see reason.

  He dug through the basket of candy she’d set up on the counter as she approached, pulling out a box of the cinnamon candies. “Last one. Wanna share?”

  “I probably shouldn’t have any to begin with, so sharing will keep me from devouring the entire box.”

  He chuckled, the sound low and much more tempting than the spicy candies he shook into her hand. What was she thinking? She popped one in her mouth, leaning back against the cold counter, and let the sugary concoction refire her brain cells.

  “This weekend seemed to go well.” Sosimo rested against the counter kitty-corner to her and much too close.

  “Yeah, we should be able to help a lot of soldiers with this money.”

  “What’s your connection to the organization?”

  “You didn’t find out in your team’s super-sleuthing?” She smiled over at him. “I founded the foundation. Wanted to give injured soldiers the best prosthetics possible so they could go back to life. I’ve been working for years, trying to improve prosthetic limbs. When I went to find an organization that could provide soldiers with rehab and help them get used to their recent addition, I just didn’t find one that did everything I wanted them to do. So I started my own.”

  Sosimo shook another handful of candy into her palm. “Why are you so gung-ho to support the military?”

  “Other than the fact the military pays for our freedom in blood and sacrifice every single day?” Her words stilled Sosimo’s chewing. She shrugged, hoping to tone down her enthusiasm. “Army brat.” She fiddled with the candy. “I guess I saw far too many outstanding men and women not have the support they needed both on the field and off. I want to help however I can.” She tossed the candies in her mouth to keep herself from revealing more.

  “You’re helping. More than you’ll ever know.” Sosimo twisted the box of candy in his hands. “Your invention? We call it Superman how it allows us to see things through walls.”

  She smiled. “I like that name. Too bad it’s trademarked.”

  “Anyway, it saved our entire unit on more than a few missions. Wish it could be available for every mission.”

  “It’s not?” Her heart dropped. She had ramped up production to make sure the military had plenty available.

  Sosimo shook his head. “Would’ve saved our friend Ethan Stryker’s life and Jake’s leg if we’d had that on our last mission together.”

  “Jake?” She touched her neck as she looked up the stairs, tears stinging her eyes.

  “Yeah. His right leg has one of your fancy prosthetics. He has a few of them, actually.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend and about Jake.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. I provided the military with a lot of those units, much more than they said they needed. Why wouldn’t they be available?” She’d have to talk to her father about that.

  “Bureaucracy.”

  “And that’s why I started A Hero’s Tomorrow and work so closely with the Soldier Enhancement Program. Our soldiers shouldn’t have politics get in the way of keeping themselves and us safe.” She held her elbow with her hand and ran her other fingers up and down her forehead to alleviate the headache budding between her eyes.

  “Reagan.” Sosimo placed the candy on the counter and touched her elbow, making her head buzz like she’d eaten two boxes of Hot Tamales. He dropped his hand. “You’re tired. Why don’t you go to bed?”

  “My stupid dress.” Her voice only functioned at barely a whisper. “I can’t get it off.”

  The color of his eyes deepened before he cleared his throat and turned his head to look out the windows, though the curtains were drawn. She had been proud of her lack
of embarrassment over the weekend, but now her cheeks were hotter than the Sahara Desert and probably as red as a beet. Curse her father’s Irish genetics that showed her slightest awkwardness or tinge of anger.

  “I’m sorry. I’d call Mandy, but I don’t want to wake her up.” She fiddled with the front of the dress. “I’d just sleep in it, but the dumb thing pokes me in the ribs every time I move.”

  “It’s no problem.” He turned back to her, his face a blank mask. “I have sisters. I know how it goes. Turn.” He swirled his index finger in a circle, all officer-in-command again.

  She turned and gulped as he pushed her hair over her shoulders and deftly worked the buttons down her back. “If you just go about halfway, I can get the rest.”

  He huffed, the scorching air hitting her skin and sending shivers down her exposed shoulders. “There. Now hit the sack.”

  “Thanks.” She mumbled as she stepped away from him. She half-turned, keeping her gaze on the floor. “Good night.”

  She rushed to her room as fast as the tight dress and her remaining dignity allowed. Whoever designed dresses to bind thighs together so a woman couldn’t stride was an idiot. This dress would burn the first chance she got.

  When she reached the door, Sosimo’s soft words teased her ear. “Good night, princess.”

  She closed the door with more force than necessary and leaned against it. Her reaction to the arrogant man angered her. He may attract her. May make her feel hotter than an armadillo in the Texas desert in summer when she neared him. That just meant she spent way too much time alone in her lab rather than socializing in the real world.

  After this weekend finished and she proposed her latest invention to the Soldier Enhancement Program, she needed to get serious about dating, maybe even sign up for one of those dating sites. Her thirty-one-year-old ovaries were working overtime if she found herself attracted to the exact type of man she always avoided like the plague.

  She thought of Landon, her ex, who’d stolen her heart and then tried to steal her Superman invention. Well, she didn’t always avoid military men, which explained why she needed to keep her reactions to Señor Hotstuff under control. She got ready for bed as quick as she could, listing all the reasons why she didn’t like Sosimo in her head until she fell asleep.

  Two days later, if Sosimo could roll his shoulders without drawing attention to himself, he would. The meeting with Reagan’s potential investors had lasted long—hours longer than they had expected. While Reagan’s invention impressed him, his gut told him something wasn’t right. He had tried to push down the anxiety, had prayed for God to calm him, but the tango his nerves were dancing only increased, and he would not take the warning lightly.

  As everyone shuffled to leave, he approached Reagan, whispering his concern into the com. Man, she looked beautiful with her face all glowing in pride. He wanted to be wrong and that the people here actually had an interest in her invention. From what he’d gathered over the weekend, even if they weren’t, she’d fund the project herself, not caring how much it cost her.

  He stepped close, kissed her cheek to keep up the doting boyfriend act, and whispered in her ear. “Good job. Now we get you out of here.”

  She pulled back, her face an inch from his. Her eyebrows furrowed before a false smile stretched across her lips. “Thanks, honey. I’ll walk these ladies and gentlemen to the lobby, then we can head out.” She turned to the group. “Thank you again for coming. I hope that you are enjoying Aspen while you’re here. If there are no other questions, Mr. Rivas reminded me I have an important phone call I’m to make. Sorry I kept you here so long. I get very excited about this opportunity for helping our armed forces, and I forget about everything else.”

  She laughed, the sound insincere to his ears. The others laughed with her, nodding their heads and commenting on being accused of doing the same. The entire situation reeked of false fronts and lies and had his skin crawling.

  Reagan sauntered toward the door, leaving Sosimo to catch up. He lengthened his stride, then threaded his fingers through hers. Her hand felt clammy and trembled. How much of what she did was a facade? Zeke stepped up next to her other side, and Sosimo breathed easier, glad they’d pulled Zeke in for this meeting.

  “Miss MacArthur, I find your invention fascinating. I thought gear like that was only available in the movies.” Zeke smiled that smile that made women of all ages swoon.

  Sosimo wanted to punch the look right off him. He shook his head and scanned the walkway to the lobby. What was wrong with him? Zeke had no interest in Reagan. Samantha and Eva had fully sieged his heart. Sosimo’s reaction stunk of jealousy, and he didn’t like it. Who cared if he couldn’t stop thinking of her flowery scent or how hard she’d pushed herself over the weekend to benefit soldiers? He had to focus, get this job done, and get Miss Fancy Pants on her way. Then he’d find a project car to fix, and life would get back to normal.

  “Rafe, are we good?” Sosimo spoke low to distract himself.

  “We’re ready. I positioned the undercover cops in the lobby with Derrick and Jake. I’m packing everything up now.” Rafe rustled something with a grunt. “We’ll be ready to drop the package off at the airport as soon as she’s done jaw jacking and packs her stuff from her room.”

  Sosimo had suggested involving the local police though they normally didn’t, but with the way his nerves were firing at high alert, he was glad he had made the call. He tightened his hold on Reagan’s hand, inhaling slowly through his nose while he scanned the lobby.

  She glanced down at their hands, then up at him, her bottom lip drawing in between her teeth. “Sosimo is everythi—”

  A vase exploded into shards of glass, flowers flying wildly as Zeke hollered, “Contact, front.”

  Sosimo turned, pushing Reagan sideways. A force slammed into his bulletproof vest, knocking the breath out of him and throwing him forward. Crap. He wrapped Reagan in his arms as he fell. When they hit the ground, he covered her with his body, praying she’d be safe. She whimpered, her body shaking in violent tremors.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” he choked out over the pain radiating across his back. “I’ve got you.”

  She clung to his shirt, burying her face in his neck. He could hear her hurried prayers over the rapid firing that surrounded them. Then as quickly as it began, the shooting stopped. Shouts filled the air, and screams echoed through the lobby.

  “Clear?” Sosimo lifted his head a few inches to survey the damage.

  “Clear.” Zeke’s voice sounded strained.

  Sosimo pried Reagan’s fingers from his shirt and pushed back onto his knees with a groan. She scrambled up next to him, her face streaked with tears and hair half falling from its updo. Her gaze swiveled to take in the lobby, landing on him with wide eyes. Her mouth flapped open and closed, and tears filled her eyes.

  He lifted his hand, ignoring the pain that shot across his shoulders, and brushed the hair from her face. “It’s over now. You’re okay.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “Looks like you needed us after all.”

  A sob shuddered out of her, and he pulled her close. This job had just taken a turn for the worse.

  “Sos, we’re leaving.” Zeke reached out his hand and pulled Reagan up.

  Sosimo shook off the feeling of emptiness.

  Reagan gasped. “You’re hit.” She gingerly reached towards Zeke’s sleeve saturated in crimson blood.

  “It’s just a scratch.” Zeke waved her off as he reached the uninjured hand to pull Sosimo up. “I saw you take that hit. You okay?” The concern in his eyes belied the sharp tone of voice.

  “It’ll bruise, but I’m fine.” Sosimo reached for Reagan and pulled her to his side. “Let’s get to the vehicle.”

  Zeke nodded. “The cops said they’d clean things up and get with us later.”

  Sosimo scanned the hotel one last time. Five men lay dead in different positions. One of them had sat next to him during the meeting. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He wanted o
ut of here stat.

  Jake took point as Zeke and Derrick surrounded him and Reagan. They rushed through the hotel, emerging from a side door to Rafe waiting with the vehicle. He pushed Reagan in, then got in behind her.

  She turned to him as the others circled the SUV and loaded up. “You’re shot?”

  “I’m fine. Vest took the impact.” He hoped to comfort her, but the way her eyes widened and she bit her lip, he didn’t think he’d succeeded. “Buckle up.”

  She nodded, pulling the seatbelt over her shoulder. Her hands shook with such force that she couldn’t fit the buckle into the connector. With a gentle touch, he took it from her hands and buckled her in. He moved his hand away, but she grabbed it before he could. She threaded her fingers through his and clung tightly with both hands. As she laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh, Sosimo flexed his fingers in hers and stared out the window at the stars in the black sky. It didn’t look like he would get rid of the princess any time soon.

  Four

  June tossed the hairbrush down on the bed. Her hands shook, so she crossed her arms and tucked them close to her. Two days should’ve been enough time to get over the shock of being in a shootout, but her hands didn’t agree.

  Maybe the shakes were because of her lack of sleep rather than the actual gun fight. She couldn’t help it. Every night when she lay her head down and finally drifted off, she would jerk awake from the recurring nightmare that haunted her nights. She’d wake up gasping, the weight of Sosimo, as he protected her in her dream, so real it bound her chest like it had in Aspen. Only, in her dream the hot stickiness of blood would seep through the back of her shirt. She always awoke when she rolled him off her, his eyes glazed over in death from the hole in his chest. She hated that dream.

  She huffed, shook her hands out, and stomped out of the room. Maybe today they could figure out a plan for getting her invention to the right people. If she got away from Sosimo and this platoon of testosterone, maybe the dreams would stop plaguing her.