“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, climbing out of his truck.
“Stuart, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I finished the job I was on earlier than I thought I would.”
“Do you want to come in?”
“Have you had dinner?”
Aine shook her head.
“Good. I made a reservation.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Aine smiled. This was exactly what she needed—a night out with her current boyfriend would help her forget about the one who came before him.
“Let me change,” she said, pointing to a spot on her shirt where Sam had spit up.
“I’ll be out on the trail.”
She watched Stuart walk out to the bench that sat between the house she shared with her mother and the Pacific Ocean. November was one of the best times of the year to see gray whales as they began their migration south. Between now and mid-January, over eighteen thousand would travel between their northern feeding grounds to Baja California, where the warm-water lagoons would become nurseries for expectant females.
Even though it was chilly, she and Stuart often walked to dinner, whale-watching along the way.
Aine put on a pair of flannel-lined jeans, a wool sweater, and a down jacket. Stuart, who had lived in Yachats all his life, wasn’t as sensitive to the cold as she was, but he never gave her a hard time about it.
“Ready?” he said when she joined him on the trail. She started walking south, to town, but Stuart grabbed her hand. “Our reservation is this way.” He smiled and pulled her in the opposite direction.
There was only one restaurant north of where they lived that was within walking distance—the Overleaf.
She’d suggest they go somewhere else, but getting a reservation at the restaurant with the best view of the coastline was hard to come by. In fact, how had he when he thought he was going to have to work late?
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“I saved the owner’s ass, and in exchange, he gave me his table for dinner tonight.”
“I’m not really dressed for a fancy dinner,” she said, looking down at her jeans.
“This is Yachats, Aine. You know no one dresses for dinner.”
She nodded and kept walking, trying hard not to look at her sister and Razor’s house as they passed by, but failing miserably.
Sure enough, Aine’s fear of humiliation manifested itself when her eyes met Striker Ellis’ as he was standing out on the deck. She gave a little wave, looked away, and picked up her pace.
“Who was that?” asked Stuart.
“Just someone who works with my brother-in-law.”
3
Seeing Aine with another man didn’t hurt as bad as Striker though it would—it hurt a hell of a lot worse.
She looked happy, though, didn’t she? The split second when their eyes met hadn’t given him enough time to say for sure.
He watched her walk away with the man he knew was Stuart Anderson, owner of Anderson’s Plumbing and all around “nice” guy. Stuart’s age had bothered him when Striker looked him up, but at thirty-one he was seven years his junior, and instead of being sixteen years older than Aine, Stuart was only nine.
Monk came out the slider, stood next to him, and handed him a beer. “Thought you might need one,” he said.
“Thanks, man. I must look pretty miserable for you to string five whole words together.”
Monk flipped him off and took a swig of his own beer. “The reason I don’t laugh at everyone’s jokes about how I never talk isn’t because I’m shy or whatever the hell you all think about me; it’s because they stopped being funny years ago.”
“I know,” said Striker. “It’s just easier to give you shit than it is to face how effed up my own life is.”
Monk nodded. “Saylor and I went out for dinner with them a couple of weeks ago.”
Saylor was Razor’s sister, and Striker had heard that she and Monk were spending time together, but he didn’t know to what extent. “Aine and Stu?”
“Yeah, but don’t call him Stu. He hates it.”
“Were you the offending party?”
“Nah, someone else at the brewery said it.”
Striker scrubbed his face with his hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Monk, but does she seem happy?”
“He’s a plumber.”
Striker turned his head and studied the man next to him. “So?”
“You’re a former CIA agent who is now a partner in a black ops firm. You oughta be able to figure it out.” Monk held up his empty bottle. “Want another?”
Striker nodded. “Thanks, man.”
The sun was just about to set on a day he’d been avoiding for eight months. He knew he’d see Aine McNamara again since her sister was married to one of K19’s founding partners. He’d just hoped he could finagle his way out of it for several more weeks, or even months. Long enough that he could be certain she’d moved on and was happy. If she hadn’t, or wasn’t, he might be tempted to tell her that he’d made a horrible mistake when he ended things with her, and beg her to take him back.
Striker couldn’t do that, though; he was every kind of bad for Aine. She deserved to be with someone who was closer to her own age, someone whom she could build a life with rather than jump into one that was already established. Also, someone who didn’t travel ninety percent of the time. The plumber probably never traveled, at least not for work.
There were other reasons they couldn’t be together, but he hadn’t told her that.
Monk came out to the deck, handed Striker the beer, and then went back inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It was a place where he really didn’t want to be, so he went inside too.
“Doc and Merrigan have been delayed. They’ll arrive at zero seven hundred tomorrow,” said Razor. “You can hang out here and eat or go to the hotel, whichever you’d prefer.”
Ranger and Diesel motioned with their heads to leave, and Striker was happy to join them. It had been a long day, and since they were on East Coast time, it was three hours later for them.
“You can take the SUV,” Monk told them, handing Striker the key.
“Can we give you a lift somewhere?”
“No, thanks.”
Monk was back to his uncommunicative self, but Striker didn’t care. All he wanted to do was go to the hotel and get some rest. He only hoped he could sleep and, if he was able to, that he wouldn’t dream about Aine like he usually did.
When Striker walked into the entrance of the hotel, the first thing he saw was Aine seated at a table with the plumber. A few moments later, two other men joined them at the same time “Stu” gripped the back of her neck with his hand.
He stood where he was, watching them, even when Ranger and Diesel walked over to the front desk to check in.
He could see her profile, illuminated by the table’s candlelight, and she looked like an angel. As if he’d called out to her, Aine shrugged the plumber’s hand away, slowly turned her head, and looked right at him. There was no way she could assume he was doing anything other than staring at her.
Their eyes stayed focused on one another’s until Striker saw the plumber about to turn his head. He tore his gaze away and joined Ranger and Diesel at the front desk.
Something about her haunted look before she’d turned toward him ate away at him. What weighed so heavily on her mind? It couldn’t be him; she’d obviously moved on with Stu.
Other things that had happened in her life haunted her. Did the plumber know all the trauma she’d been through in the last couple of years? Did he know that her father had lied about his identity her entire life? Did he know that she’d been kidnapped along with two of her closest friends and was held hostage in order to lure out the same man? Did he know she had nightmares nearly every night?
He probably did, and that part was too much for Striker to think about. The idea that his sweet Aine would lay naked in someone else’s
arms made every muscle in his body clutch in anger. If only her mewls of pleasure could belong only to him. He could see and hear her so vividly if he closed his eyes.
After almost losing his life in Somalia, he’d done everything he could to get back to the States for Christmas. It wasn’t as early in the day as Striker would’ve liked, but it wasn’t too late for him and Aine to celebrate together.
He whisked her away from the house where she was staying in Annapolis and drove her to his condo in McLean, Virginia.
Once there, the first thing they did was exchange gifts. Striker gave Aine a garnet bracelet that had belonged to the only relative who had ever truly cared about him: his aunt, Dorothy. Coincidentally, his aunt and Aine shared the same birthday: the third of January.
She gave him what he thought was a pocket watch, but when he opened the cover, he saw it was a compass with a message engraved on the inside cover.
If you take me by the hand
Open your heart
I’ll help you
Find your way back home.
A.
“I love it so much,” he told her.
“Is it silly for me to say this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had?” she asked.
“Not at all. It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had too.”
He stroked her cheek with his fingertip. “Are you hungry?”
Aine’s cheeks flushed, and she turned her head.
“Look at me,” he told her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Not for food,” she murmured.
Striker lifted Aine in his arms and carried her up the stairs. “I missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and she brought her lips to his.
He lowered her to the bed and knelt in front of her, pushing the sweater she wore up so she’d take it off. He leaned forward and kissed the pale skin above the red lace bra that held the two most perfect breasts he’d ever seen.
Aine gasped when he pulled the cups down and her ample bosom spilled over them, exposing her nipples.
He laved one nipple while his fingers toyed with the other, pinching and then stroking the pebbled nub.
“Lie back,” he told her.
“Griffin—”
“Shh,” he whispered, unfastening her jeans and sliding them over her hips. He left the red lace panties on that matched her bra, and kissed through their dampness.
“Every time I closed my eyes, this is what I thought about,” he murmured as he pulled the panties to the side and feasted on her sex, bringing her to the first of what he knew would be countless orgasms.
No woman he’d ever been with responded to him the way Aine did, and no other woman had turned him on the way she did either.
God, he missed her. Not only in his bed, but in every part of his life. What could he do, though? He’d made the decision to end their relationship, and he had to live with it.
—:—
Two of Stuart’s friends stopped by the table, and after about a minute, Aine was no longer paying attention to their conversation.
Why couldn’t she have stopped herself from looking at the house when they’d walked by? Why did Striker have to be standing on the deck when she looked? Why did they have to make eye contact? Couldn’t he have looked away?
Stuart, probably noticing she was lost in thought, rested his hand on her leg. When she smiled at him, he moved his hand from her leg and brought it to the back of her neck.
“Bored?” he asked, leaning in to kiss the side of her face.
Aine shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
Stuart smiled and went back to talking to his friends. He kept his hand on her nape, though. It felt possessive, but not in a good way. More as though he wanted to be sure she stayed focused on him as he took part in a conversation that had nothing to do with her.
Aine wouldn’t have had to turn and look, she felt Striker’s presence as soon as he walked through the hotel’s entrance. The air changed. It wasn’t warmer or colder; it was heavier—thick with everything left unsaid between them.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Why had he suddenly decided he was so wrong for her after they’d talked about everything from their age difference to how often he was forced to be away because of what he did for a living?
These were among the issues he’d sited when he said a relationship couldn’t work between them. Something told her, though, that he wasn’t being completely honest.
Aine had a slew of insecurities she could turn into other reasons he didn’t want to be with her, but since she’d never know for sure, she couldn’t waste more energy on it than she already had.
But why did the air still crackle when the only connection between them was through their eyes? What would it be like if they spoke? Would the pull be too much for them to ignore, or were those feelings hers alone? Maybe he was immune to what she believed was an undeniable attraction between them, or maybe he just didn’t feel it the way she did.
Aine turned her head and saw Stuart’s two friends had left, and that he had seen the exchange she had with the man who had been standing in the lobby.
“Someone your brother-in-law works with,” he murmured, his eyes boring into hers.
“That’s right.”
“I wish you’d tell me the truth, Aine.”
She shook her head. “I’m not lying to you,” she said, knowing he meant by omission, but unwilling to say more about the man who no longer wanted anything to do with her.
While he may have played a different role in her life at one time, now he was just someone her sister’s husband worked with.
“Not hungry?” Stuart asked, eyeing Aine’s half-eaten plate.
“Not as much as I thought I was.” She’d ordered a smaller portion meal, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an appetite because of the anxiety she was feeling over Striker being in the small town she now called home. Even so, she’d moved the food around her plate more than ate it. “I’m sorry,” she added.
Stuart nodded and motioned to the waiter for the check.
“Let me get it,” she said, pulling her wallet out of the small cross-body bag she wore.
“Aine, please don’t do that.”
“You shouldn’t have to pay every time we go out.”
“I’m happy to.”
She and Stuart hadn’t discussed finances, but she knew there were times when his business was booming, and then times, he didn’t work for several days in a row.
Aine, on the other hand, had more money than she could spend in a lifetime, unless she gave it all away, which she considered doing from time to time.
“It’s dirty money,” she said to her mother one day after she’d gotten off the phone with the trustee who had managed her and her sister’s money for most of their lives. The man was connected to the investment firm that held their assets, rather than to her father. If it had been the other way around, neither she nor Ava would likely have a penny to their name.
“Consider it a small compensation for the hell your father put you through,” her mother had said that day.
Aine shrugged. No amount of money could erase the horror he’d put her through in the past couple of years.
Even if she used every penny for a therapist, the memories might fade, and she might acquire tools to manage them when they came roaring to the surface of her consciousness, but she’d never be able to wipe them out entirely.
“You’re deep in thought tonight,” said Stuart, who was standing at the side of the table, holding his hand out to her.
Had the waiter brought the check already? She didn’t notice.
“I’m tired. Sam had a rough night, so I got up early to give Ava a break.”
Stuart smiled. He always did when she talked about her nephew. On their second date, he’d told her how much he loved kids and wanted to have a houseful of them one day.
Aine liked kids too, especially since her nephew was born.
Prior to that, she’d never been around a baby. Sam was work, no doubt about that, but the joy he brought to her life was worth every dirty diaper she changed and every step she took pacing the floor in an attempt to get him to settle down and stop crying.
“Will you be warm enough if we walk back?” Stuart asked, taking off his jacket to put around her shoulders.
“Yes,” she answered, smiling and knowing better than to tell him she didn’t need it since she was wearing her own down jacket. Stuart was a gentleman. It was one of the things she’d liked most about him when they first met.
His arm around her shoulders as they walked back down the trail was comforting. It felt nice to be by his side, and that’s what she should focus on instead of comparing him to Striker. They were two very different men, and those differences were neither good nor bad.
Aine slipped Stuart’s jacket off her shoulders when they got to her front door.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked like she always did.
“Not tonight. You’re tired.”
As he spoke the words, she yawned.
Stuart leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, similar to the one he gave her after every one of their dates. Every so often, things would get more heated between them, but even then, it was never as scorching as it had been between her and Striker.
They’d been seeing each other for several weeks, and besides the occasional make-out session, Stuart hadn’t pushed her for anything more. It was another thing he’d told her when they first began dating. He was as old-fashioned as he was gentlemanly. He believed in taking things slow, not rushing into a physical relationship before they really got to know each other.
“I believe making love should be just that,” he’d said. “Without love, it’s just sex, and I have no interest in that.”
It hadn’t bothered Aine. If anything, it was a relief. In hindsight, her relationship with Striker had gotten physical far faster than it should have. As much as he’d reassured her otherwise, Aine still wondered if her lack of sexual experience was one of the reasons he’d ended things with her.
Striker (K19 Security Solutions Book 6) Page 2
