Eyes On

by Zoë Normandie

  “If you really think that I’m following you, why did you do… that… to me last night and tonight?” she whispered through ragged breaths. “Would you do that with just anyone?”

  The thought of what they’d done together aroused her despite the pain of the moment. He had that effect on her.

  He kissed her again, gently. When he pulled back, his face was serious and focused. “No,” he said sternly. “I’m not that guy. This is different. I think you know this.”

  “How would I know?” she questioned. “How would I know what type of guy you are? Aren’t you all just charmers? Women fall down in front of you.” But as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She knew exactly what type of guy he was: a good one. He wasn’t just a womanizer, though he could be. He was solid. Stand-up. Loyal.

  She knew it in her bones.

  She’d spent years figuring people out, and she had him figured out early based on her instincts and their interactions. There was no man who deserved to pass the loyalty test more than he did, which made him all the more desirable. She’d never been able to trust those other snakes, but he was different.

  “I think you know a lot more than you are letting on,” Mason added. “And I’ve learned a lot more about you than you wanted me to.”

  “I’m not who you think I am,” Avery sputtered out.

  “I don’t even think you know who you are,” he concluded.

  The words were all too true, and she averted her gaze. He used his meaty hand to bring her chin back up, and demanded her eyes. His focus drove into her, giving her goosebumps. “Tell me why you are here, Avery. Why are you following me? If I’m in trouble, you need to tell me. We owe it to each other.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “Please, Mason. If there was a conversation I could have, I would have it. But I can’t say anything.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t? Whose side are you on?”

  She was on his side. But she was bound by secrecy. No one could know, ever. It was a lifelong bind.

  Avery couldn’t withhold the sadness she felt and looked out over the villa. No one had ever put it all on the line for her. She’d never been important to anyone. But she didn’t trust the emotions she felt. She was weary. Hungover. She just knew it was a matter of time before he left her or forced her away. It was only ever just a dream.

  To her surprise, Mason opened his arms wide. “It’s wild, Avery, but I’m going to just get it out. I haven’t felt anything in a long time. Not with anyone, any woman. Not with the hottest chicks in the world trying to get my time. It’s been constant numbness. But with you, I feel alive.” He brought his hand to his chest, thumping on it. “In here. I feel warm.”

  She knew what he meant—because she felt the same.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she whispered to him. “Ever.”

  He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I know what that means, because I don’t talk to anyone either. I should… but I don’t. I hardly even like most people anymore. I hate crowds. I hate doing all the fun things I used to love when I was younger. But with you… hell.” He paused, searching for words, and grazed a kiss on her lips again, bringing her back up toward him. “With you, I honestly want to quit my job and just move to a secluded island together. Dance to music all day. Fuck all night.” He laughed as he said it. “I know it’s fucking crazy. I just met you. But I feel like I’ve known you forever. So don’t do this. Don’t give up on us.”

  Avery looked back at him and nodded. She felt it too. And that was what hurt the most. She felt a hot tear roll from her eye.

  “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear.” Her voice shook. She could never, under any circumstances, talk about it. She could never tell him what her job was. And here she was, expecting him to tell her about his. It was damn ironic.

  “Avery, enough. I know there’s something else going on. I can see you fighting it. I can see it’s eating you.” His tone turned serious. “Obviously, it isn’t a coincidence that we met. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something amazing between us. And we’d be fucking stupid to let it go.”

  She buried her face in her hands. He wrapped his big, muscular arms around her. She would be stupid to let him go. That much was true. But how could she take such a risk, choosing between her job and him? His words of praise and affection were foreign to her. Alien. They didn’t make sense to a mind that had been disconnected and alone for so long. This amazing, sexy man wanted her? It just couldn’t be true.

  As he held her, with her face and hands pressed against his chest, she mumbled, “Mason, I’ve been waiting a thousand years for someone like you. Someone who actually sees me. Hears me. There’s only ever going to be you. But I don’t know what the fuck to do. I’m so confused. I’m in a bad position.”

  Her body knew what her mind was unwilling to accept. The game was up. Long up. She wasn’t going to crack him. She wasn’t going to get information. She wasn’t going to finish this.

  She’d been charmed. But that wasn’t all. She’d fallen.

  “I’m in a position where I can’t win,” she cried. “And this whole thing between me and you was only ever temporary. I hate how that’s the truth, but it is.”

  Avery let her tears fall down her face. She was supposed to be breaking him, not the other way around. He just held her for a moment. Silently. Tightly. Kissing her hair. So incredibly empathetic and encouraging.

  “Come to the island with me,” he said. “Let’s drop everything and run. We can both win.”

  She looked up at him and smiled, shaking her head like he’d said something silly. “Mason, we can’t run from our problems. It’s not as easy as just quitting our jobs. We are legally bound.”

  He stiffened and gave her an odd expression. It was then that Avery realized she had struck a chord with him. He wanted to run from his problems, and he wanted her to run from hers.

  “I need you to tell me if I’m under threat,” he continued. “I need you to tell me if I need to expect trouble.”

  “Mason,” she whispered. “Even if I wanted to, I never could. I’m completely bound. You know what that means.”

  He cleared his throat and considered her for a moment. “I get it. I come from a world like that too. But at some point you need to decide if you are on my side, or if you are a problem for me.”

  She pursed her lips and looked at the ocean through the patio door. It didn’t matter how fast she ran. They’d find her. They’d know.

  She could never be free.

  And Mason would still be fucked over. If not by her, then by someone else. She buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t look at him anymore. She couldn’t bear what would come next. They breathed in unison for several moments as he held her tight, until he bent his head down and kissed her hair one last time.

  He was letting her go.

  She moved slowly, grabbing her bag and throwing a coverup over her form. It was time.

  As she left his villa, she felt the same numbness he’d described—the numbness that seemed to disappear when she was with him—overtake her. Hot tears fell from her eyes. And the farther she walked away from him, the less she felt like a person.

  11

  As Mason climbed into the bed in his ridiculous suite, his cell pinged with a new message. He felt hollow, angry. Exhausted. Unable to sleep. Everything had just gotten really fucked up.

  Reaching for his phone, he was glad to see a message from his troop mate Jake Wilder, Chief Special Warfare Operator. It was closer to six or seven o’clock at night on the east coast.

  Mason welcomed anything to distract him, but Jake’s message was a surprise.

  Problems on the rise. Call me.

  Mason groaned. How much more fucked up could shit get?

  He hit the video call app and reached Jake’s phone immediately, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Mason knew very well what was happening in the troop—and he knew his day of reckoning was coming. He’d never done anything. He’d n
ever said anything. But he was just as guilty.

  When Jake answered, he appeared to be sitting on the couch at his condo back in Norfolk, Virginia. Mason knew that couch well, and had spent many nights crashing on it after his huge breakup with his ex. Jake was a solid friend.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Mason said quickly.

  Jake rubbed his hands through his hair. “Fuck, man, everything is getting super fucked here.” Jake spoke quickly and nervously, looking around the room he sat in.

  “Why?” Mason felt his heartbeat in his throat. There were fucking problems everywhere. How much of that was coincidence?

  “I’m going back to Canada,” Jake said.

  Shit. His best friend was leaving the troop… again. Jake had taken personal leave on the last rotation out of Mali and picked up a private security contract at the Canadian embassy. Anything far away from the SEALs. He’d been there for about five months—long enough that he needed to make a decision about whether he was coming back to work or not.

  “Okay. Why? For how long?” Mason asked. “Are you ever coming back to the team?” Mason’s heart raced as he faced the possibility that his best friend was leaving for good. Selfishly, Mason feared that he’d be dealing with the senior chief alone.

  Jake sighed. “I’m leaving the troop. I gave my papers.”

  Mason rose quickly, phone still in hand. “What the fuck, buddy?” His voice cracked. “No.”

  “Listen. You know that thing we talked about last time I saw you?” Jake spoke in code. Mason knew exactly what he was talking about. Threats had been made against Jake when he questioned the senior chief about his criminal behavior.

  “Yeah?” Mason replied.

  There was a sudden glitch in the image, and a bizarre noise shot through the speakers. As quickly as it came, it returned to normal.

  “What the fuck was that?” Jake demanded, suspicious.

  “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t trust this shit.” Mason studied his phone for a minute, but after a brief moment of silence, Jake continued.

  “Okay. So things have gotten worse. Real bad. I’m done. I’m getting out. I want no part of this. What’s happening is wrong… and I’m not going to spend my life cleaning up someone else’s bullshit. I’m leaving tonight.”

  That meant Mason wouldn’t even see him before he left. He felt something rip his chest. Mason and Jake had been through a lot together. A lot of deployments. A lot of operations. A lot of bullshit.

  “You can’t leave,” Mason demanded. “Is it Blackshot? What did he say to you?”

  Jake just shook his head. “Brother. It’s a done deal. We can’t talk about it here.”

  “I’ll be on the next flight. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t do anything.” Mason said. “What if we go to the commander together? Sort it out?”

  “No, man. Stay out there. It’s good for you. I’ll be gone when you get home. I just wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  “Dude, don’t do this. What about—”

  “I have to,” Jake replied. “There’s something insidious going on here… and it goes beyond your boss. Believe me.”

  “Bro,” Mason pleaded. He couldn’t take this, not on a day like today.

  “Watch your back, bud.”

  Mason was speechless. He had to get back. All this was going down without him. If only he had said something, done something, maybe his best friend wouldn’t be leaving. Mason felt his guilt climb. He’d had his chance. Maybe if he had spoken up, Jake would still be an operator alongside him.

  Mason couldn’t imagine tours without him. He didn’t trusted anyone like he trusted Jake. They called each other Maverick and Goose, and constantly fought over which one of them was Maverick.

  “I should speak up,” Mason said desperately, coming to realize how much impact his silence had.

  “No. This is my decision.”

  Mason thought about Avery and wondered if he should tell Jake about her. But he didn’t trust the connection, and he didn’t know what to say.

  “Keep low, man,” Jake continued. “Don’t go looking for trouble. Don’t trust anyone.”

  With that final warning, Mason nodded, and Jake ended the video call. Mason stared blankly at the home screen on his cell.

  He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he needed to be back home. He wasn’t going to watch Jake quit his job because of what had happened in Mali. Someone had fucked up, but it sure as hell wasn’t Jake. Jake was the best sailor he knew. He had a heart of gold. He deserved a medal, not a kick in the ass out the door. The guys who truly deserved medals never got them, Mason grumbled to himself.

  Mason grabbed his bags and started packing. He’d change his flight and get the fuck out. He couldn’t take being trapped in the resort with Avery anyway. She was the one woman he desperately wanted—and the one he clearly needed to stay the fuck away from.

  If Mason allowed any more time to pass, his resolve would wear thin, and he’d be back at her villa, kissing her again. They’d be engaged by the end of the trip, and he’d never forgive himself. Whatever her deal was, it wasn’t anything but trouble for him. He couldn’t make her run away with him. She had to make her own choices. If the woman was as good a professional as she let on, she’d know how to find him if she ever changed her mind.

  In the meantime, Mason needed to start putting out fires. He felt attacked on all sides. Shrouded in threat.

  As they say in the Navy, Mason was in a pit of shit with only one way of getting out of it.

  12

  Forty-four hours, three stopovers, and two thousand dollars later, Mason nearly kicked down the door of his Virginia Beach townhome in the middle of the night. He was that damn excited to be home. It had been a long-ass time. Vacation had been bittersweet, and it had not ended well.

  It was quiet inside, and cool. Familiar smells came to his attention.

  If it weren’t for the fact that it was squarely in the middle of the night, he would have just dropped his bags and whipped out to find some of the other guys. He needed to discover what the hell was going on. He’d been texting anyone and everyone within his circle of trust, but Wi-Fi had been shitty during his stopovers, and no one was willing to talk over cell.

  So Mason did what he knew: he got to work. He needed quell the unease he’d developed since he’d left Avery and get his shit together. With every piece of luggage he unpacked, he smelled her. Everything from that resort reminded him of her and the best vacation of his life.

  Her perfect curves. Her beautiful smile. Her easy laugh. The way she made him feel like something was shining through him.

  The way she made him feel important, more than just a SEAL. He knew she needed that too. It was just too damn bad they couldn’t figure it out together.

  His chest had gone cold again. It was like someone had jammed an icicle through his esophagus. But Mason didn’t doubt his choice to leave. He had to do it.

  The only thing he doubted now was if he’d ever see her again.

  He pondered it while he pulled apart his dirty laundry and threw it into the washing machine in the hallway near the kitchen. White sand dropped on the tile floor, bringing back memories of beach parties, slow dancing in the dark, kissing her slowly…

  Then he pulled out his travel gear from Mali. A different type of sand fell from the pockets of his utility pants. And different memories: of being caught in a sandstorm after watching his boss clip a bunch of tied-up rebels, stone cold; of hunkering down in the eye of the whipping storm with only his guilt and self-loathing for company.

  “Don’t be a fucking bitch,” Senior Chief Liam Blackshot had barked at him after he’d washed the blood off the blade of his knife. The sandstorm had subsided, and boss was making sure Mason understood what he saw. Mason stood over the dead bodies of the tied-up rebel fighters. Zap straps held their hands tightly together. He was sure they were teenagers. What the fuck was wrong with the rebels? Christ.

  Fighting terrorism wasn’t like the old wars.
The enemy didn’t play by the rules. Guys like Blackshot believed that when it came to counter-insurgency, the only way to succeed was to get down to the enemy’s level—where the rules of war were forgotten.

  “Did you have to slit his throat? He was already fucking dead.” Mason pointed at the last rebel fighter’s body and looked up at his boss. He tried to keep his mouth from falling open in shock.

  Senior Chief Blackshot squared himself with Mason and stared him down, analyzing him. Assessing him.

  “He was twitching.”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  “Do you have a problem?” Blackshot seethed. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t take chances.”

  Mason remained silent, but he knew it wasn’t right.

  “You want to become a chief, Ajax?” Blackshot barked again. “You’ve got to show me you can handle the bloodiest parts of war. COIN is shit, man. We are SEALs. We do what the reg force can’t handle.”

  Mason heard the underlying threat. If Mason had a problem with what his team lead was doing, if he spoke up, he’d be blacklisted. SEALs don’t rat out SEALs. It didn’t matter what he saw. He was a junior member. He needed to give respect to the old dogs. They had a different way of doing things in DEVGRU.

  Mason nodded curtly and turned to leave. He felt sick.

  Every part of him screamed that what he’d seen was wrong. He understood that combat was different against asymmetric threats, but putting one in a guy who was tied up or already dead… Mason couldn’t process that. He was no ethics scholar, but he was damn sure the Navy did not support the killing of unarmed teenagers who’d already surrendered. They had protocols for dealing with detainees. A clean-up crew.

  As Mason walked away from Blackshot and back to the truck, another truck pulled up. Lieutenant Commander Fuller got out, looking as pristine as if he had just gotten out from behind his desk and missed the storm—and the bloodbath—entirely.

  “Sir.” Mason nodded at him.

  Fuller gazed back with a bored expression. “Where are you going, sailor?” He motioned for Mason to turn around. “Get the body bags. I told you. We don’t take prisoners.”