by Zoe Dawson
“Mmm, nice laugh,” he said. This time he did move a bit closer to her, leaning his tall, muscular weight against the vehicle. “Normally when we finish a mission, we head to the All In Bar and Grille. Celebrate not getting shot or blown up.”
“Nice,” she said.
“Maybe you’d like to join us sometime.”
She blinked for a moment, not comprehending his words, her mind too focused on the muscles. The flex of more muscles in his shoulders and arms as he crossed them over his chest. When she didn’t immediately respond, he shifted.
“C’mon,” he said in a low voice that was enticing, coaxing. “Success should be honored.”
She couldn’t help looking at him. The curl of his lips, his white, even teeth, the sexily pleading glimmer in his misty gray eyes.
Beautiful and dangerous.
“Probably not.”
He studied her for a moment. “Probably and not don’t exactly mesh, Makayla. Is it because of me? Do I make you nervous?”
Mak’s breath left her for a moment at the way he said her full name. But the breath-stealing moment left as quickly as it came, followed by irritation. At him and herself.
She wasn’t attracted to this man—not beyond a basic physical attraction. And that could be controlled. It could.
“You don’t make me nervous,” she said firmly.
“Prove it.”
“I don’t have to. I’m much too busy—”
Pitbull crossed his arms tighter and lifted one of his brows, which informed her that he didn’t believe her for a moment.
“Pitbull!” someone shouted.
“Yeah,” he shouted back. “Gotta go, but I’ll probably see you around, slugger. Ice that face.”
“He’s right, slugger,” Kai said.
She turned to her colleague sprawled in the back seat of the SUV. Kai held up her hands. “I was slouched down in the seat. I’m freaking tired. I didn’t hear much.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He’s delicious and free. What could it hurt?”
Me, Mak thought. He could hurt her.
4
Sinclair Residence, San Diego, California
As soon as he entered the house, Atticus “Hemingway” Sinclair heard his niece’s soft noises. He started toward her room, then realized his dad was sitting in the rocker Paige had set near the window so she could look out when she was tending to her daughter.
“Hey,” he said in a hushed voice.
“Mornin’,” his father responded. “She just woke up, and I thought Paige could use a few more hours.”
“She did get in late…or early this morning. I heard her voice around two or so. What time did she drop off Chloe?”
“Around eight. She was called into special operations.”
“Again? She must be the bomb.” Paige had gone back to work at NCIS on a reduced schedule. Most of what she did she was tight-lipped about, so he had no idea what she’d been up to last night. NCIS Special Operations had been courting his sister for a while. They used her on several missions before her pregnancy. It must have been something pretty intense for her to be involved last night.
Hopefully everything had worked out for the good guys.
“She is. Kid’s deployed on a mission, and as you know, she’s never sure when he’ll be back.”
“Right. I can watch Chloe today if Paige needs me.” He grabbed a towel from the linen closet in the downstairs bathroom, mopping his face and the back of his neck. “Don’t you have to get to work, Gramps?” His dad was retired from NCIS, but he wasn’t one to sit around. He’d taken a part-time landscaping job that kept him outside and was flexible enough when he wanted to go fishing.
His father chuckled. “I do, but I’ve got some time yet. Looks like you’ve already gotten in a workout.”
“Just a run. I’m going to lift and swim this afternoon. I can watch Chloe when you have to go to work.” Hemingway entered the living room and sat on the couch across from his dad. “Did you get some breakfast?”
“No, not yet.”
“I’ll make us something.” He rose and went into the kitchen.
His dad wasn’t big on a heavy breakfast, so Hemingway started water boiling for a soft-boiled egg and popped a slice of bread in the toaster for his dad. For himself, he put together his post-workout smoothie—orange kale protein green juice. He blended everything together while the water boiled, then poured the thick, foamy concoction into a glass while he chugged water. When the water boiled, he dropped in the egg and buttered the toast. He set everything, including a second cup of black coffee and a small glass of OJ, on the tray for his dad and headed back to the living room.
Setting it on the coffee table, he noticed that Chloe, dressed in pink and white unicorns and wrapped in a pink blanket, had fallen back to sleep. She had Kid’s dark hair and her dad’s features in feminine form. But she was much cuter than her dad in Hemingway’s book.
“Let’s trade places. I can drink my shake with one hand.”
His dad reluctantly gave up his granddaughter and settled on the couch as Hemingway nestled his sleeping niece into the crook of his arm, accepting the green juice from his dad.
It was a competition between his sister and brother-in-law whether Chloe would say mommy or daddy first. It was comical to watch them spar with each other. Kid was the best brother-in-law a guy could get, and not just because he’d been instrumental in getting Hemingway his chance at SEAL training. Kid treated his sister with respect and honor, loved her and their daughter with a fierce pride that transcended their tough life.
There had only been one terrible argument between him and Kid. His brother-in-law had insisted he go to the Naval Academy in Annapolis where he would graduate as a commissioned officer.
Hemingway had been accepted there, along with many other colleges. He decided to double major in computer science and international relations with a minor in Middle Eastern language, literature and culture and had chosen Stanford. It was only seven hours from home, and Hemingway argued that he’d have a better chance of becoming a SEAL if he went in as enlisted. Kid was unrelenting, and they had gone a whole week without speaking.
Finally, his sister threatened Kid with bodily harm if he didn’t mend the rift. They got together at a coffee shop, and Hemingway admitted that he didn’t want to be all the way across the country, far away from his family.
He wanted to be close so he could help out when needed. He was going to become a SEAL, and he had no idea where that journey was going to take him. He would be away enough when the time came.
Kid had caved then, understanding Hemingway’s motives. They had been such a close-knit family after Hemingway’s mom had abandoned them. Paige had raised them, and Hemingway wanted to be available if she needed help with their dad.
Although, he wasn’t sure why he was worried. His dad was as strong as a horse and as stubborn as a mule.
His dad started to eat. “You ready for BUD/S?”
Hemingway looked up, surprised by the question. “I’ve been ready since I was ten.”
His father chuckled. “No, realistically. You do okay in basic?”
“Yeah, after all the training I received, it was a piece of cake.” It was, and he was up before the bugle sounded, raring to go. He got some good-natured ribbing from the other recruits and some haters, but he didn’t let any of that bother him. He knew his path and where he was going. He wasn’t about to let down Kid or Will “Shadow” Blackmoon, who’d taken over his training from Kid and the guys from Kid’s team. He was a former SEAL and Jude “Hollywood” Lock’s father-in-law. He’d gotten to be friends with most of Dragon’s team as well just by association of them all being in the same platoon.
“I bet you were up before reveille.”
“I’ll take the Fifth.”
His dad chuckled. Hemingway lowered his head when Chloe curled her tiny hand around his pinky finger. He was sure his smile was as besotted as he felt. She was going to be a pistol l
ike his sister. He was sure.
“I’m very proud of you, Atticus.”
At his dad’s words, he lifted his head, and a lump formed in his throat. Dammit, he could tough out the emotion. “Thanks, Dad,” he said, and they smiled at each other man to man.
“I’m going to take a shower and get ready for work.”
Hemingway nodded, chugged the last of his delicious shake, and reached for the snuggly. Situating his tiny niece deftly inside while she barely stirred, he placed all the dishes on the tray and went into the kitchen. He heard the shower come on in his dad’s bedroom. In the four-bedroom ranch, one bedroom was his, the spare bedroom was where Paige slept over and the other one was for Chloe.
“You’re going to make someone a fine wife one day.” Paige’s raspy voice broke into his concentration. He turned from wiping down the counters and smirked.
“How long have you been wanting to say that gem?”
She laughed and ran her hands through her messy hair, a soft smile on her mouth when she saw Chloe.
“You are quite the multi-tasker.”
“I do windows too.”
“A keeper,” she said with a yawn.
“Rough night?”
“Yeah, but the good guys won and saved the day, especially Makayla.”
He scrunched up his forehead. “Littlestar. Right?”
“You’re good.”
“I try.” At the sound of his sister’s voice, Chloe squirmed in the snuggly. “I think she might be hungry.” The whiff of something bad made him say, “Uh-oh. Saved by the mom. She needs changing, too.”
“I got it,” she said.
“I don’t mind if you want to get more sleep. I’ll even change her.”
“No, I’ve got to get us home. Kid is leaving for another deployment in two hours, and I want to see him before he goes.”
“All right.” He pulled the small wriggling bundle from the sack and handed her over to her mother. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you later.”
“Atty. Thanks for everything as usual.”
He stopped and smiled. “You should thank Dad. He’s the one who got her out of her crib when she was fussing this morning.” He stopped to let his dad pass in the hall.
“My ears are burning.”
“Thanks are in order for allowing me to get at least a modicum of sleep. Much appreciated, Gramps.”
“No problem, chickadee.” He leaned down and kissed Chloe on the head and then his daughter. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“I will. Have a good day at work.”
“No kiss for me?” Hemingway asked with a pouty bottom lip.
His dad punched him in the shoulder. “There you go.”
Hemingway laughed on his way to the shower. He wondered if Will wanted to do some drills today.
When he got out, he heard his sister on the phone. It was clear she was talking to someone at work because her voice had that professional edge. Geez, she was supposed to be on reduced hours.
After he got dressed, he left his room, tucking his cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans.
“All right, I’ll go. You sure it’ll only be three days?”
When he came out to the living room, Chloe was in her car seat playing with the toy bar and Paige was dressed, her hair brushed and pulled back.
“Chris Vargas? Yes, I worked with him last night.” She nodded a few times and gave him a wink. He returned the look with a pained one. She nodded and held up her hand.
“Okay, Director, I’ll be there.”
After she hung up, he asked, “What’s going on?”
“They want me to go to South America for a few days. I can’t talk about it, but can you and Dad watch Chloe for me? I have no idea when Kid will be back.”
“Of course we will, but Paige, you’re supposed to be on reduced hours.”
“I know, but this is…important and they need my expertise. It’s only for a few days and I’ll have a fellow agent with me.”
“Chris Vargas,” he repeated. “Doesn’t he work with Makayla in Special Operations?”
“Exactly. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I always am.” She came over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got to run. I’ll be back in a few hours to drop Chloe off.”
She picked up the car seat and breezed out the door, and he rolled his shoulders. He chalked up his bad feeling to his own mood. He thought the agency should give his sister a break. But Paige was all about duty. He didn’t have to wonder how it had rubbed off on him.
So, five days later when his sister called from South America, he was relieved. “We just got to the rental lot. We’re dropping off the car and will shuttle to the terminal. I’ll be home on Tuesday. It will be a grueling two days with all the layovers.”
“I can pick you up. What time does your flight get in?”
“Ten fifty-five. Kid’s still deployed. I’ve barely had a few words with him. He’s going to be unavailable for a while. Not sure how long. How is Chloe? I miss her so much.” She sighed.
The tone in his sister’s voice showed her fatigue and maybe her understanding that if she wanted to be a mom to her daughter, she would need to be more present. “She’s doing great. I think she said Uncle Atty.”
“What? When?”
He chuckled. His attempt to lighten her mood had worked.
“You jerk. What a liar.”
“Had you going for a minute.”
“Maybe I need to make a change.” It was the first time she’d even uttered those words. She loved her job, but he suspected she loved Kid and Chloe more. His family was close-knit, and it only brought home to him what he was giving up to become what he had always envisioned. It was difficult to let go of a dream.
“I know this is hard on you, but we’re managing. Make decisions later when you’re rested and you’ve talked it over with Kid. He’s so responsible.”
That made her laugh. “Ha! Kid is—oh, my God,” her voice hushed in horror. There was a sound of a scuffle, a thump as if she’d dropped her phone, then his sister’s muffled voice, demanding, “Let go of—” Then a gunshot, footsteps and more indistinguishable sounds, and suddenly her even fainter cry, “Chris!”
The line went dead.
“Paige!” Seconds ticked by. “Paige?” He frantically looked at the phone. The call was still open, but there was nothing but silence. “Paige!” Then, without warning, it clicked closed.
He feverishly called her back, but nothing happened. No voicemail, nothing. It was just empty air.
What the hell had happened to his sister?
Pitbull approached Helen’s house, noticing the guy outside on a ladder was fixing the gutter. Probably getting the house in order for sale. The guy dropped a hammer and Pitbull picked it up.
“Thanks,” the man said, climbing down. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Helen’s. Is she home?”
“Yes. She’s inside giving the girls some lunch. You are?”
“Errol Ballentine.” The guy’s eyes went wary and Pitbull sighed. “Are you Mark?”
He nodded as he climbed down the ladder. “Mark Martin. Helen mentioned you. She wasn’t complimentary.”
“No, I bet she wasn’t. She’s not keen on acknowledging me at all. I don’t know what she’s told you.”
“She said it was complicated and emotional.”
Pitbull looked down. He’d already disrupted Helen’s life, and it looked like he was going to do so again. Mark had no idea that Pitbull was Samantha’s father. It was time it came out before they were married. “It is complicated and emotional. But Helen probably hasn’t been truthful about me.”
The guy’s chin lifted, and his eyes narrowed. It was clear he was protective of Helen and that was understandable. She did attract the white knights. He should know.
“There’s no way to say this in an easy way, so—”
“Errol. What are you doing here?” She looked from Mark to him. “What lies are you tell
ing him?”
“He hasn’t told me anything.” Mark moved over to her and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“What I have to say isn’t a lie, and we both know it.”
She moved closer to Mark, wrapping her arm around his lower back. She lowered her eyes, looking trapped. He wouldn’t have chosen to just show up, but he was getting nowhere with her. He hated to involve lawyers, but she was making this more difficult than it had to be.
“Errol, please,” she pleaded, putting every sultry look in the book in her eyes. He wasn’t swayed, and he was well aware of her tricks now.
“What is going on here?” Mark demanded, pulling Helen closer.
“Helen?” Pitbull paused to give her the opportunity to come clean.
She looked away, and it was clear she was shaking.
Pitbull sighed heavily. “I am Samantha’s biological father.”
Helen made a soft sound and went to retreat into the house, but Mark tightened the arm he had around her keeping her in place just as his cell chimed. Dammit. He looked down to see he had thirty minutes to report.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
She folded her arms across her chest, and Mark was just staring at him.
“Look, I want to talk about Samantha and terms of custody. I would rather not get lawyers involved just yet, but if you keep dodging my calls and my attempts to resolve this issue, Helen, I’ll have no other choice. I’m not relinquishing my right to see her and be a part of her life.”
She said nothing, her arms tightening, the humiliation on her face pulling at the skin around her eyes and mouth.
“I’ll call you when I get back from deployment.”
Still she said nothing. Mark chimed in. “Helen, answer the man.”
“All right,” she said stiffly, giving Mark one of her pleading looks, and he caved.
“It’s going to be fine, sweetheart.”
“Sorry about dropping this bomb on you,” Pitbull said, turning away. He headed to his truck and drove immediately to the base. Once inside the cage room, he changed out of his civvies and into his BDUs.
