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Honestly, it was probably for the best. The pull toward her was intense, a tugging sensation deep in my chest, which had nothing to do with scar tissue, but the last thing I wanted to do was scare her off. I’d have to bide my time with the timid teacher, get to know her beyond what I’d learned from a background check. Persistence and patience were my new best friends.
By the time everyone left, I was more than ready to head back to my apartment. Crowds had never bothered me, but there were times when I craved solitude, needed the peace to quiet the ghosts of the past. I’d attended enough funerals during my stint in the military to last a lifetime, and even though I hadn’t been graveside for this one, the memories of the friends I’d lost still swirled in my mind.
“Get over to the northeast corner and cut off that gunner, J,” I shouted. “We’ve got you covered.”
We were hunkered down in a bombed-out building in the middle of Bumfuck, Afghanistan and Jimmy, or J, was our long-range specialist. My team had been ambushed while out exploring the area, and we were cut off from the main road by two jackasses in a Jeep with a machine gun mounted on top.
I was their captain, then there was Ben, Sam, Gray, and Carter. The six of us had been a team for the better part of two years and worked together like a well-oiled machine. We weren’t kitted out with all our usual gear because we hadn’t been expecting trouble. That was our first mistake.
J took off running while we tried to keep the attention of the guys in the Jeep, who continued to shoot off rounds like they had an endless supply while ours were dwindling rapidly.
“Cap, last clip,” Gray snapped from beside me.
“Same,” Sam and Carter repeated.
“Make your shots count, boys,” I ordered.
Seconds later, I heard the distinctive report of the first bullet leaving J’s MK11 sniper rifle, then watched as it hit its intended target. The man behind the machine gun dropped instantly, leaving his partner wide open for the second shot, which struck a heartbeat later.
I released the breath I’d been holding as we began to cautiously exit the broken-down home we’d used as cover. Our base of operations was less than two miles to our east, however the entire area, including a twenty-mile radius surrounding it, was supposed to be regularly patrolled. Our base was what the military called a black site, meaning it was used to conduct highly classified missions, so the fact these men got through our defenses didn’t sit well with me.
“What the fuck was that, Cap?”
I turned to answer J at the same time a single gunshot ripped through the stillness, which had settled after our brief encounter. Sam, Gray, Carter, and I spun and fired at the lone gunman standing out in the open, but it was too late to save Jimmy.
Jimmy McCallister was the first SEAL under my command I’d lost to the battle against terror and, unfortunately, he wouldn’t be the last. The man who’d shot him wasn’t a man at all. He’d been a kid. A fucking kid who wasn’t even old enough to drive a goddamn car, let alone pick up a gun and take a man’s life.
I thought about that kid way more than I should have over the years.
EMORY
THANK GOD FORhalf-assed excuses. The more people who’d showed up to pay their respects to River, the more I’d started to feel the telltale signs of claustrophobia rearing its ugly head. My heart rate had kicked up a bit and moisture had begun to gather in places where only big girls had to worry about sweating. Meaning there was a ridiculous amount pooling under my boobs, where the bra I wore wasn’t quite strong enough to support their weight.
Growing up in New York City, I used to love being able to disappear in a crowd and the anonymity that came with living among millions of people. Once my father ran for Senate, my sanctuary became my living nightmare. There was nowhere to hide, no chance of remaining invisible. I’d been too young when he’d won his first election to fully comprehend how drastically my life would change. And not for the better.
We lived in a penthouse apartment on Park Avenue, thanks to my mother’s money, among the richest of the rich. It was “the best that money could buy,” my father always said, but I found it to be pretentious at best. Who the hell wanted to live in a place where you couldn’t touch anything? Heaven forbid something was found broken. It was inevitably my fault, even though nine out of ten times it was actually my older brother, Maxwell, who’d done the deed.
But then again, everything was my fault. The way I looked. The fact I was born. You see, I was the result of a drunken night between my parents; one which, according to my mother, should have never happened. Their lives were planned out down to the color of underwear they wore each day, so imagine the shock of an unexpected baby.
My father had his heir and successor in Maxwell, so he had no use for a daughter, much less one who didn’t fit into what he felt were societal norms. I would never be a size zero and I certainly didn’t blindly follow his lead the way my brother did.
In fact, I threw a wrench in each plan he’d painstakingly mapped out for my life at every turn, by simply asking questions. Why do I have to date Joshua Preston? Why do I have to be friends with the McAndrews sisters? Those were only a few instances among eighteen years’ worth of whys. It drove him insane.
My only saving grace had been the two weeks each summer I’d been allowed to spend with Gigi, my mother’s mom. It was her family’s money which had afforded my parents the lifestyle they were accustomed to, yet they treated her like a pariah. She, too, didn’t fit into any specific mold, and I often wished I could’ve lived with her.
It was the one time when I could truly behave like the real me. There were no security guards, no maids, no one telling me what I could or couldn’t eat and how often I had to exercise. It was simply me and Gigi. During those two weeks every year, she taught me how to survive the other fifty.
By the time I made it back to the apartment I rented above the little bakery on the other side of town, I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I hadn’t lied when I said there were lesson plans for Monday I needed to tweak, but it wasn’t the main reason for my hasty exit from the celebration of River’s mom’s life.
The real culprit was the six-foot-three piece of male perfection who’d been staring at me the whole day like he thought I’d try to steal his mother’s precious jewelry. Luciano del Toro. One of Rico’s older brothers.
His grayish-blue eyes had been laser focused on Quin and me from the moment we’d sat down on the couch and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what his problem was. I’d never met him before, at least not that I could remember.
There were a few times throughout the afternoon where I thought I saw a spark of interest blooming behind his broody gaze, but I knew better. The man was sin and danger rolled into a gorgeous package, which was precisely why I needed to keep my distance. I didn’t have the time or the energy to play games and, in my experience, that’s all it would ever be.
I kicked off my high heels the second I crossed the threshold and walked to the refrigerator, grabbing the half-empty bottle of moscato from the door. After pouring myself a healthy glass, I plopped down on my favorite piece of furniture in the apartment, besides my bed. A navy-blue, plush love seat I’d found for a steal at Goodwill. It may have been worn, but it had good bones.
When I’d left New York City in the dust, I’d also left behind access to my trust fund. My father, for whatever reason, had set aside a ridiculous amount of money for my future, but it came with stipulations. One of which was staying in the city I had once loved but had grown to despise. The other was I had to be married. Since neither of those options worked for me, I was on my own.
