by Gamet, Amy
“It seems like you could use some of that, too.”
Jo blew out air. “As soon as I’m able. I’m sorry about your trip.”
“There’ll be other trips.” She waved her hand. “Sloan filled me in a bit. Hopefully you can find what you need more easily without the children tagging along.”
“I’m not used to being without them.” Jo sat on the edge of the bed. “Even after David and I split up, he’d only take them for the day. They spent every single night under my roof with me.”
Evelyn sat beside her. “Every night?”
“Except for the occasional sleepover at a friend’s house for April.” She hung her head. “Stupid to get upset about it.”
Evelyn’s arm came around her shoulders. “Oh, it’s not stupid at all. I remember when Sloan was little, I refused to let his father put him in his crib at bedtime. I wanted him next to me. That boy slept in a bassinet until he couldn’t fit in it anymore.” She stroked Jo’s hair. “I’ll bet you’re a wonderful mother.”
How many times had this woman acted as a mother to her? Jo’s own mom had died when Jo was four. She had only a handful of memories of her, and none of them distinct. But Evelyn had been different, forever offering up her sound advice and comfortable shoulder whenever Jo had needed it. “April hates me. Lucas misses his father, and I have no idea what to do with that.”
“And Fiona?”
“She loves me, but give her time.”
Evelyn chuckled. “That sounds about par for the course. Just keep your chin up and know, the one thing they’ll remember most is love.”
Jo sat upright and wiped her nose. “Thanks, Ev. I really appreciate the pep talk.”
“Cut yourself some slack. I imagine it can’t be easy to be around my son, either.”
Jo bit her lip, needing to talk honestly with this woman, yet unsure if she should. “Did Sloan tell you I asked him to marry me before he went in the Navy?”
“He did.”
“He wouldn’t do it. I didn’t understand why, and I was so hurt and angry.”
“He was devastated when you two broke up. And when he found out you’d married David… well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. He’s never been quite the same, you know. He’s different when you’re around. I was watching him talking with you in the RV, and I think it was the first time I’ve seen him truly happy in a very long time.”
“We were fighting.”
“He’s happy.”
“He wants to take me to dinner.”
“And what do you want to do?”
“Say yes.” She looked at her hands. “But the kids already like him too much, and I’m afraid they’ll get attached.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“If things didn’t go well between me and Sloan, yes. They just lost their father.”
“And you don’t want to risk it.”
“That’s right.”
Evelyn took her hand. “Risk is what makes life worth living.”
“Risk gives me panic attacks.”
The older woman laughed. “I’m being serious, Jo. Every good thing can only enter your life if you’re willing to shake things up a little. Otherwise, your life will never change.”
“But the kids need stability.”
“And love. It’s clear to me they have yours in spades, but if they’ll ever have it from another parent, you will have to open that gate.”
“He’s only been gone a few days!”
“And if you were in mourning, I would bow my head and weep with you, sweetheart. But you’re not. You aren’t holding that gate closed with all your might because you just lost your love. You’re holding it closed to keep love out. And that’s something I just can’t abide.”
Joanne pulled her hand back. “It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it? Or are you making it more complicated than it has to be?” Evelyn stood and picked up a folded blanket from a chair. “Now move your tuchus so I can finish making this bed.”
This woman should have been a lawyer. She could peel back the layers on any argument, exposing the hard truth beneath. “He broke my heart.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Up.”
Jo stood and moved to the other side of the bed to help. “And I’m scared he’s going to do it again.”
Evelyn spread out the blanket over the bed. “He might. But you’ll never know without trying. And he just might be the best thing to ever happen to those kids.” She smiled. “I should get dinner started so you two can eat before you get back on the road. That’s if I really can’t convince you to stay the night.”
“There isn’t enough room. Besides, Sloan wanted to get a look at the warehouse tonight while no one’s there.”
“A big old warehouse on the river, at night. Sounds terrifying.”
Joanne nodded. But the clock was ticking on Bannon’s invisible timer, counting down to incalculable danger that put the lives of her children in jeopardy. She took a shaking breath in. “For more reasons than one.”
20
It was blustery and dark, a cold wind blowing in gusts across the empty parking lot of Poughkeepsie Plumbing Supply. A chain-link fence surrounded the property, train tracks running between the warehouse and the Hudson River some forty feet away. The fence was buckled in places, wood pallets stacked up behind the building like discarded gift boxes on Christmas morning. A small addition stuck out from the side of the main building like a metal-roofed shanty.
Sloan used his banged-up NVGs to scope out the telephone poles and tall buildings around the property, Joanne on his heels.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait until HERO Force gets here tomorrow?” she asked.
“I just want to check it out. See if we can get the lay of the land while no one’s around.”
“What exactly are we looking for?”
“Security cameras, for starters. Doesn’t look like they have any.”
“I’d think they would have put their money into repaving this parking lot before they’d do anything high-tech, don’t you?”
He moved toward a particularly badly buckled section of fencing farthest away from the light. “Let’s get in there and take a look around.” He stepped aside for her to go first. “You remember how to climb a fence?”
“It’s four feet tall, Sloan. I think I can manage.”
A light breeze carried the scent of fried food from a restaurant nearby, and he moaned. “You know what I love? Fried dough with powdered sugar. Food of the gods.”
She took one big step up the fence, then threw her leg over the top. “Do you ever stop thinking about food?”
“No.” He made it over the fence in one practiced movement. “Oh, with honey on top. Hell yeah. I gotta make me some of that when I get home.” He moved toward the door to the shanty, which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be an office.
“What if there’s an alarm?”
“Then we run very, very fast. Come on.” He stopped at the door, finding it locked, and unzipped his rucksack.
“What are you looking for?”
“Lock-picking tools.”
“You just carry those around?”
“Only when I’m going to be picking locks.” It was a complicated mechanism, but well within his skill. He eyed Joanne as he worked. “What were you and my mom talking about back at the cabin?”
“Nothing.”
“You can just say you don’t want to tell me.”
“Fine. I don’t want to tell you.”
“Hmm. Must have been good.”
She didn’t answer.
Really must have been good.
He’d been walking by the door and heard his name, barely resisting the urge to stop and listen. He would have paid money to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Jo and his mom had always had a good relationship, which was far easier to accept when he and Jo had a good one of their own.
The lock clicked. “Got it. Come on.”
He shined the
light on the room around them, illuminating a desk, several filing cabinets, and two tables full of plumbing parts. He felt Jo walking behind him in the darkness, hating how aware he was of her presence.
Did she feel it, too? This thread that joined them like an electrical wire, its current surging? It was worse now that her kids were gone, even worse still as his adrenaline surged, anticipating a possible showdown tomorrow. He was drawn to that current, desperate to touch it, no matter that he would be burned.
And he would be burned—of that, he was certain. If not by the intensity of their connection, then by the opening of that same old wound from when she left.
The thought brought him up short. He’d been so damn angry when she married Regan that anger was his predominant emotion. But there had been a wound beyond his temper, a hurt he realized now he’d never been able to fix.
“You check the filing cabinet. I’ll check the desk,” he said, pulling a second flashlight from his pack and handing it to her. A train whistle sounded in the distance, a low vibration growing as the locomotive got closer.
Most of the drawers were full of office supplies, but one had a checkbook. He flipped through the duplicate copies, finding nothing unexpected for a plumbing supply company. He threw it back in the drawer.
“I found bank account statements,” said Jo. “A bunch of them.”
“How much money?”
“A lot more than you’d need to fix that parking lot and install some cameras. Seven figures.”
Suddenly, bright light streamed in from windows on either side of the room. “Shit. Give me those.” He took the files from her hand and stuffed them into his pack.
“What do we do?”
“Come. Follow me.” He crouched down low and opened the door, the distant barking of a dog immediately catching his attention. He hadn’t heard a dog the whole time they’d been on the property. The paths that had been dark were now lit by bright sodium lights.
Shit.
Turning away, he raced for the fence. That dog definitely seemed to be getting closer. They’d obviously tripped some kind of alarm or had been otherwise discovered. He reached the fence, but here thick brush grew through it and over it, making it difficult to scale.
The train whistle blew again and the train passed by, the rumbling drowning out all other sounds, though he knew the animal was there. He cursed into the din, running along the back of the building toward a small clearing in the brush, looking over his shoulder to be sure Joanne was there. She was, but behind her, the shape of the charging dog could be seen heading straight toward them.
He ran as fast as he could, reaching the clearing and hopping the fence with his good arm, then turned to help Joanne over it as well. She had one foot up high in the chain links when the dog caught up to her, barking wildly and attaching to her other foot.
He saw the fear in her eyes and watched her mouth form his name, but he couldn’t hear her scream over the sound of the train. He was already reaching for her, desperate to pull her over the fence, but his prosthetic arm couldn’t lift her weight. He climbed onto the fence, bending over it to get a better grip around her body with his good arm, and heaved her over the top. They landed hard, him on his back and her on top of him, and scrambled to their feet as the train finally passed the warehouse and the sound waned.
Sloan’s prosthesis had been pulled off his body and was hanging from its strap. Without it, his rucksack shifted awkwardly from his other shoulder. “Come on!” he demanded, forcing her into action.
“Your arm!”
“It’s fine. Go!”
The sound of running footsteps followed them from inside as they raced along the fence back to the car. Sloan threw his prosthesis in the back and peeled away from the curb, taking off down the street.
21
Jo was shaking, blood streaming down her calf and onto her tennis shoe, but it was the image of Sloan’s arm dangling from its socket that terrorized her.
She knew it was a prosthesis, but with it on, at least he looked whole. Once it was off, she could no longer pretend he wasn’t broken, that everything about him was the same as it always had been.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “How bad did he get you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see it.”
“I’ll pull over as soon as I can.” He was swerving through the wet streets, snow having changed to rain that now fell heavily as he passed slower cars and flew up an expressway ramp. “Just need to make sure we lost them. Thank God we got rid of the Winnebago.”
He accelerated on the highway, and she closed her eyes against a wave of nausea, keeping them that way for several minutes until she felt him descend on the curving exit ramp. “I think we’re safe,” he said. A hotel sign shone down the street, and he pulled into the parking lot. “No one followed us off the expressway.” He turned the interior light on. “Let me see your foot.”
She lifted her leg, bending it over the center console. “It’s more like my calf and ankle.”
He pulled it toward him, turning it slowly in the light, blood everywhere. “I have some first aid supplies in my pack, but I’d rather clean it out in the room so I can get a good look at the damage.”
She nodded, pulling her leg back to her side of the car as he drove to the hotel, parked, and went inside to check in. He emerged several minutes later, grabbed his rucksack and prosthetic, and nodded toward her bag. “I can’t carry any more right now.”
“Oh, right,” she said awkwardly, hyperconscious of his missing arm. “It’s no problem. I’ve got it.” She followed him through the hotel.
“I got adjoining rooms. Come in and let me take a look at that leg.” He opened the door and held it for her to enter. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bathtub?”
“Sure.” She sat down and peeled off her bloody tennis shoe. A moment later, Sloan entered, dropping his rucksack on the ground. He was shirtless, with his prosthetic arm now reattached and a leather strap holding it in place.
Sweet mother of God.
His chest was more muscular than it had been when they were kids, a light dusting of dark hair accentuating his defined pecs and abs before disappearing at the waistband of his jeans. He was stocky and solid; every inch of him was pure, strong man. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat as he grabbed a cup off the sink and sat beside her on the edge of the tub.
He smelled spicy and male, the scent instantly registering on her senses like an alarm piercing the air. He turned on the water, waited for it to warm up, then filled the cup and rinsed away the blood a little at a time. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
He reached for a towel and placed it over his thigh before picking up her leg and gently placing it across his lap. He patted it dry with the towel, several gashes and a deep gouge marring her skin. His thumb slid along the sensitive flesh beside her injuries, and she sucked in a breath at his touch.
He did it again, his gaze fixed on the bites. “I almost didn’t get you out of there in time.”
“But you did.”
He shot her a harsh look before reaching for his pack. “Barely.” He took out bandages and first aid cream.
“Sloan, if it hadn’t been for you, I would have been dog food.”
He applied cream to the bandages and carefully placed them on the wounds. “My damn arm fell off.”
“So what?”
“Don’t patronize me, Jo.”
“Patronize you how? You saved me. You pulled me over the fence and saved me from that dog.”
“These wounds are deep. Another minute and who knows what that animal might have done?”
“But he didn’t—”
“Stop pretending it doesn’t matter that I fucked up, okay? Stop acting like you didn’t notice that it almost got you killed.” Finished with her bandages, he put her leg down and stood. “I was there. I know exactly what happened.”
She followed him out of the bathroom. “So, let me get this straight. In your mind, yo
u nearly got me killed because you were injured fighting for our country and that somehow makes you a bad person who can’t be trusted with my care.”
He’d walked away from her and now stood gazing out the window, his body silhouetted against the pane, hands on his hips. “I thought I could make a difference working for HERO Force.”
She cocked her head, desperate to keep up with this change in conversation. She approached him. “Go on.”
“I thought it wouldn’t matter that I only had one arm. I had a good prosthetic. I could fire a gun. I could still fight the bad guys and come back begging for more.” He shook his head. “But it isn’t true.”
“A few dog bites, and you’re questioning your choice of career?”
“It’s not the first time. I was down in Mexico on a mission. Damn near got my friend and two innocent civilians killed for the same reason. I was lucky I didn’t hurt anyone else like I almost did today.”
His pain was palpable, and she longed to take it away, absolve him of this sin he clearly hadn’t committed. She reached out and tentatively laid her hand on his back. “I’ll bet you helped them.”
He turned around quickly, brushing off her hand in the process. “No, Jo. This story doesn’t have a happy ending. I’ve been struggling for a long time, hiding behind a joke and pretending I fit in with the other guys. Hell, I think I was struggling even before that. First I lost you, then I lost the SEALs. I didn’t think I could lose anything I loved again.”
In that moment, she needed to soothe his pain just as he’d soothed hers. She closed the distance between them, going up on tiptoe to take his mouth in a kiss that conveyed every bit of passion she was feeling in her heart. He hesitated, and she feared he’d pull back. Her arms snaked up his chest to hold him to her, her lips and tongue demanding he respond.
Damn it, I know you remember how good we could be together. Show me. Show me you remember.
This was what she wanted, she could see so clearly now. Gone were her fears of being hurt by him again. She was already hurting, and she would go on hurting. She might as well enjoy him while she could.