Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  Missy pulled with strong strokes through the water to reach Izaneth, who was just twenty-five meters off the port. So far, the sharks weren’t interested. He blew out a breath and threw the boat into neutral.

  Jamie skirted by the mother to get to the storage box, picked up the lifesaving ring tied to the line. He waited another second and then tossed it out to Missy. It landed on the water next to her at the same time as one of the sharks gave her a playful nudge. “Grab it,” he spoke sharply.

  The sound of the high speed engine coming in for another pass, had him grabbing his flare gun and shooting it over the assholes’ heads. This time, he could see the driver, whose eyes went wide in that instant before the kid shifted down and decreased speed, slowly turning away.

  But not without sending Jamie an angry fist.

  Missy’s arm looped around the ring and around the girl next to her.

  Jamie pulled the line, watching closely for the next shark to make a move.

  Another nudge—not so playful this time, and Missy’s foot kicked out, striking the shark in the nose. She continued to kick as he pulled again, straining the muscles in his shoulders. His heart pounded, his hands pulled, one over the other, and when she was beneath him, he tossed the line aside and reached down.

  The shark appeared from under the boat, mouth gaping. With one hand gripping the side, Jamie sent his fist into the water, jabbing at the shark’s nose, and then grabbed the back of Missy’s shirt and hoisted her and Iza from the water and onto the deck. His shoulder screamed with the weight.

  He separated Iza from Missy’s clutches and checked her over for injury. No blood.

  “We’re fine,” Missy said quickly.

  Relief made him lightheaded as he handed the Izaneth off to her mother. He ran his hands over Missy’s legs—his fingers brushing the scar on her calf—and found bruises forming on her right thigh.

  “He got my attention, anyway.” She laughed.

  “This isn’t funny.” He glanced up to see if the boat was still nearby. He was definitely going to make a report.

  Missy patted his hand and, still sitting, stretched her muscles before she rose. Only a wince as she straightened her leg. “It’s only bruising,” she said, as if trying to convince him.

  He watched her for another second before nodding and taking the captain’s seat. She made sure their guests were settled, came to stand behind him, and kissed him on his shoulder, proof that the incident had shaken her up more than she wanted to admit.

  What had seemed like an eternity hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes. The mother kept hugging him then Missy and back to him again.

  Missy tied off the boat as he shut the motor down. She helped the kids out of their life jackets. They were bouncing with excitement.

  “Gracias. Gracias.”

  “De nada,” he said again as he threaded his fingers through Iza’s hair and gave her a smile. “No más saltos en el agua, vale?” he teased.

  She buried her face in her mother’s side.

  The boy lifted his hands to Jamie, who picked him up and tossed him into the air. He caught the mother’s gaze. “I will make a report. I promise. That other boat will pay.”

  “Today could have ended much worse,” the mother said.

  Jamie nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

  Missy jumped to the wood dock, favoring her right leg, and turned to help the kids and their mother off the boat. The adults were decidedly more shook up than Reuben or Izaneth.

  At the end of the dock, his home for the past fifteen years stood two stories high—The Shack. The lower level held the business. Scuba gear, surfing and boating gear for his small fleet. Last year, he’d picked up a few kayaks to add to the inventory. Tourists loved the addition.

  And he offered classes for scuba diving along the reef and for kayaking along the shore and up the river.

  Safety was a huge part of what he did. What happened today was a sharp reminder that he couldn’t be complacent.

  “It’s not your fault,” the young mother spoke English, surprising him.

  He turned to her. “My boat, my tours, my responsibility for your family.”

  But she just shook her head.

  “A personal encounter with a shark is not part of my business, not to mention the other boats out there. I should have been more watchful. Let me refund your money—at least.”

  A smile touched her lips. “My children will talk about this day for the rest of their lives.” She lifted a finger. “What will people say if they find out you didn’t let me pay? Are you admitting it was your fault?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, Yes! I should have been watching better, but she interrupted, “No. I paid, and I you will not apologize for the mistakes of others. I too will report them. And maybe we will see justice done, for my Iza and your Missy.”

  “Ma’am—” he argued.

  “I insist.”

  Missy approached then, each of the kids holding a bright red popsicle.

  “Say thank you.”

  “Gracias!” Both kids grinned through popsicle-stained lips, the trauma of swimming with sharks over.

  “Let’s get a photo, yes?” Missy grinned and crouched between the two children. The mother nodded and came to stand behind them. She held out her phone. “Por favor, Jamie.”

  He knew how trauma could return at the most unexpected moments. But he only hesitated a moment before he took a picture of the family with Missy. Reaching over his counter, he picked one of his business cards up off the register and handed it to the woman along with her phone.

  When she would have taken it from him, he held it just out of her reach. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. It’s not always about whose fault it is, but about the well-being of your family. Come back, okay?”

  A tear glistened in her eye, and she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist and let go a second later only to speak sharply to the kids as she led them out of the shop. Jamie grinned; mom voice. He’d been the victim many times in his day.

  Jamie opened an arm to Missy.

  She limped over, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her against his side.

  She sighed against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head, her dark hair getting caught on his five o’clock shadow.

  He still had to leave tomorrow.

  But as much as he regretted the long hours, the travel, and being away from her, there was something about taking on the bad parts of the world. Something about the blood pumping through his veins.

  It was what kept him going, kept his life essential and crucial to Hawk Elite.

  …to the world.

  Chapter Two

  She liked to think of it as a business trip. It made his leaving that much easier. But deep down, Missy knew his desire to be in the middle of Hawk Elite’s assignments was one of the main reasons she’d been unable to let herself take that final step with him and commit to marriage, which was silly because she couldn’t imagine leaving him either. Where would she go?

  He’d proposed before. He wanted her to have his protection, even on paper.

  She was a coward, who wouldn’t pick up an old, dusty camera because when she did her heart raced and her palms sweat. Twelve years hadn’t been long enough. Years with Jamie, protecting her, but still, the only way she felt safe was to hide here, in this coastal town, teaching third graders and ignoring the rest of the world.

  She was not a worthy partner for someone as strong and capable as Jamie.

  The scent of their shared dinner on the beach lingered in the air, the remnants of Jamie’s famous shrimp and scallop salad in the basket next to the blanket. She picked up her glass of wine and sipped. Tones of dark berry and rich oak flavors went straight to her head.

  He knew what she liked.

  Setting her glass down, she picked up her phone and swiped into the camera app. She might not pick up her old Nikon, but that didn’t stop her from the instant gratification of seeing h
im in her photos.

  He waved as he stood out of the breaking water. Then he lifted the board over his head and went back in for more. He could surf until the sun went down.

  And she had no problem watching him. He made fun of himself for being forty—plus, he’d say. He thought he’d robbed the cradle. Yet, they’d lived together four years before he finally admitted they were a couple. She’d been twenty-two; he thirty-four. But, he still worried about their age difference.

  She didn’t care.

  His feet kicked up water between the rhythm of the waves, before he chose the one to ride in to shore. She continued to capture each slice of life. The sky behind him was dark gray, obscuring the line of the horizon. The sun, dipping into the land behind her, gave off the barest of light. And for an instant, she longed for her old camera and time in her dark room, adjusting exposure the old-fashioned way.

  He was on the board now, racing toward shore and tailing through the wave as it moved against the ocean floor. He wasn’t tall, but he was muscular and broad-shouldered. In the past year, he’d gotten leaner and less focused on those activities that had consumed him through their first ten years together—lifting weights and drinking protein shakes.

  She touched her screen as a wave caught him off guard and sent him diving into the water.

  Chuckling, Missy lowered her phone to pick up her wine and drink the last sip. She stretched her legs—feeling that twinge from her excursion in the water—and stood. Jamie jogged over and speared his board into the sand next to her. He shook out his mop of thick red hair, splashing her.

  “Stop,” she laughed and yelped when he picked her up and planted his lips against hers, his green eyes laughing.

  She hummed with pleasure and wrapped an arm around his neck.

  He growled softly before taking the kiss up a notch. She opened her mouth to him and threaded her fingers through the length of hair at his neck. “Happy Anniversary, Missy.”

  The anniversary of that night. The anniversary of when they’d first met, face-to-face, in a small church in a small town in Mexico. She’d given herself over to him, to his protection. He’d earned more than trust over those first few years.

  He’d earned her love as well.

  “You are crazy. What happens if we get married? Will we have two anniversaries?” She said it flippantly, but as soon as the word married left her lips, her heart pounded against her breastbone.

  His eyes widened for a brief moment. “Did you say married?”

  She shrugged. “Just…no.”

  He grinned. “You did.”

  “I was being hypothetical.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. “Then we will celebrate two anniversaries.” He wagged his eyebrows. “What more incentive do you need?”

  She laughed nervously. She was so close to giving in. Twelve years since she’d left the dark of her past. Was it long enough? Or would the cartel find her?

  When her father was killed, she thought her life was over.

  She couldn’t survive if something happened to Jamie now.

  Jamie lifted the board. “I’ll be right back to help carry this stuff.”

  “I got it.”

  He took off, up the beach to their home, where she knew he would rinse the board and hang it under the upstairs balcony. With a gulp, her wine disappeared, and she shook the blanket out and folded it over her arm. The basket was light now, and she picked it up.

  A breeze swept across shore, blowing away the last bit of daylight. The stars came into sharp focus above. From this side, the main floor was the second level. Their bedroom faced the water, and inside the glow of the French doors above, Jamie pulled a shirt on over his head. He moved over to the nightstand and picked up his cell phone. When he turned to the window, he put the phone to his ear, then stood as if looking out.

  Missy stepped up onto the deck, at beach level, and went in through the main door of The Shack. She locked the door behind her, flipped the lights off, and took the stairs up. They were narrow, part of the old 1940s-style bungalow charm. She loved it. For a long time, she thought of it as his, but it was just as much hers.

  Moonlight came through the length of window next to the front door. And on the wall next to that were the pictures she’d been able to save from her former life. She touched the frame. An old photo of her mother and father, sitting on the porch of her grandmother’s home. A time longer ago than she could remember. Below that one was one of her and her grandmother, the week before she fled Mexico. “Abuela,” she whispered, her heart clenching.

  Nina had made the final sacrifice, losing her son and her granddaughter at the same time. She’d lost one to tragedy and the other at her own demands. Missy wouldn’t be here if not for her grandmother.

  “Hey.” Jamie leaned against the doorway to the kitchen.

  Turning with a smile, she put thoughts of her former life, her former dreams, aside. She was a teacher now, not a journalist or even a photographer. And she loved teaching.

  Right?

  “I know that look,” he said.

  “You do not.” She smiled big.

  Jamie shook his head. “Yes, I do.” He held out his hand. “What do you want to do, Missy? Really. Don’t give me the safe answer.”

  “Nothing. I’m happy. Being here with you…” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she set the picnic basket down on the cool tile floor. She laid the blanket on top.

  He frowned, his gaze finding the framed photo behind her. “You’re thinking of her.”

  Frustrated, she shrugged. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I want to re-enter the world of Mexico politics or the life of the cartel. My grandmother made a sacrifice. I won’t dishonor it now. I won’t go back.”

  She went to him, needing the connection, and slid her hands under his flowered, button down shirt to rest them at his waist. He brushed a hand through her hair, and she leaned into his caress. The comfort of his touch centered her. “No regrets?” he asked.

  “No. Never.”

  He tensed under her hands but quickly relaxed, a smile coming to his face. “So then attach yourself to me. Be mine, completely.”

  “I am yours. Completely.”

  But he wanted marriage. When he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her head, she kissed his bicep below his tattoo. He got to her, though.

  He let out a breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and it almost got caught in her throat. “But what’s wrong with what we have? Has it been so bad?”

  “No, jeez. There’s nothing wrong.” He kissed her, his lips comforting on hers, until he stepped away. And it was like a cold wall between them. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and then turned to her. “What if we made contact with your grandmother? Maybe it’s time to try opening that door? Get the closure you need.”

  She shook her head, fear buzzing through her senses. “No. This is not something you need to fix, Jamie.” She sounded harsh and unforgiving, unrelenting even to her own ears. “I can’t.” The panic crushed her. Her breath left her body, and she couldn’t suck it back in. She stood and backed up.

  He came up to her and rubbed his hands down her arms. “Okay, hold on. Whoa.”

  She swallowed. “I—” she blew out a breath. “It’s you.”

  “Me?” he said with uncertainy, making her smile in order to ease the doubt lurking in his eyes.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near Martinez.” She backed up and gripped his arms. “I won’t have it,” she said.

  And Jamie laughed, as he cupped her face with his warm hands. “Mi amor.” But then he hesitated. “Will you let me look into it? Let me put some feelers out.”

  “No, Jamie.” She blew out a breath. “It’s too soon.”

  “No one would know. Malcolm will help, and he is very good at what he does.”

  She could feel his disappointment.

  What if something happened to him, because of her? The cartel had been ruthless
twelve years ago. It would be ruthless now. She watched the news. People still died.

  He rested his hands back on her shoulders and then touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll be careful. I can, at least, find out if your grandmother is still alive.”

  She had to trust him. She wanted the closure. “I swear, you better not get dead, Jamie Nash.”

  He chuckled, kissed her on the forehead and tipped her head back so he could look into her eyes.

  “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you,” she said.

  “Pshaw. Who’s going to hurt me?” He flexed his arm muscles. “Me, Superman.”

  But that just made her eyes fill with tears. What if she did lose him? And what in heck was wrong with her tonight? “Come on, Superman. Take me to bed before you have to leave.”

  He picked her up, cradled her in his arms, and took her to their bedroom.

  Missy planted soft kisses down his neck. His arm released her legs, so they hung above the floor. She loved the feel of him against her. His hand went to the small of her back, and he tucked his fingers into her waistband, giving it a solid tug.

  Her skirt slid down her legs and pooled at her feet. Circling her arms at his neck, she wrapped her legs around his waist and took his mouth, humming in pleasure.

  “Aww, babe,” he said and then laid her gently on the bed.

  Her heart pounded as he stripped down and joined her. His hands caressed and massaged the length of her side and down her legs. He paid close attention to every square inch, barely touching where the shark bruised her. In each moment, he reminded her of all the reasons to give in…but also to hold off from taking that final step to fully committed and done with the past.

  When he held her like this, she hated the fear that paralyzed her from moving on.

  She was already his.

  Why did he want to change it?

  “Jamie,” she breathed his name as he entered her. Her hands came up to brace his shoulders, and his muscles rippled beneath his smooth, warm skin. She kissed his shoulder and ran her hands down his back.

  He pumped into her. So simple. So straightforward.