by Cat Johnson
“Why attack Gailani?” Jack asked.
Zig snorted. “She’s a woman. The Taliban will probably think that’s reason enough.”
The commander tipped his head. “There’s some truth to that. Most likely Anas wants to disrupt the peace talks. But he doesn’t have the exclusive on wanting to harm her. Her father was one of the leaders of the mujahedeen guerrillas. She took over as spokesperson during the end of the conflict with the Soviets in the eighties. Many of the guerrillas did not share her father’s moderate views. Given the reason attempt on her life, she’s obviously still a target. That’s the bad news.”
“Is there good news?” Gage asked.
“There is.” The commander nodded. “We have solid intel as to where Anas is right now and where he’ll be until he travels to Qatar.”
And with that, he had his answer of what Haqqani was up to and most likely where he’d be heading with the team.
“Afghanistan should be lovely this time of year,” Joker mumbled, apparently making the same assumption as Brian.
“Wheels up at seventeen-thirty. You’ll be briefed on the details on the transport,” the commander wrapped up.
Team leader Bear Black hopped down from the desk he’d been sitting on. “You heard him, boys. Get your shit together. We’re heading out.”
Funny how things worked out. He had been thinking how he wanted some action and now it looked as if they were going to get it.
Perfect. A mission was exactly what he needed to clear his head of his fake girlfriend and his very real emotional hangover.
Liam glanced his way as they funneled out of the room and into the hallway that would lead them to the cages where they stored their equipment. “Don’t forget to call the new girlfriend before we leave.”
He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I’m going to guess that you’re so worried about me and my relationship because you have no hope of getting one of your own, so I’ll let you sticking your nose in my business go this time.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Liam rolled his eyes and walked on ahead. But the comment had brought up a good point.
Should he call, or even text Alicia before he left? He wasn’t sure. It was a tough call to make.
Theirs was a confusing situation. Business partners—as she’d put it—who’d fucked a couple of times. More than a couple of times actually.
As her partner in this fake relationship, he should let her know he’d be out of town for a while, in case some event came up.
But then again, she already had a plan to lie to her sister about his being deployed so it wouldn’t matter whether he was in Coronado or not.
All the swirling thoughts dominating his mind did was prove one thing—nothing about dating, even fake dating, was simple. And Alicia was going to be very hard to forget.
Worse, he was starting to realize something—he didn’t want to forget her.
Shaking that thought from his head, he shoved away all of his confusion and feelings about this relationship shit. It was time to focus on the op.
He’d figure out his personal life later. After they stopped any nefarious plans Anas had, saved Fatima Gailani’s life, and secured the safety of the Afghan peace talks.
No problem.
TWENTY-ONE
“Guess what?” Shelly asked, sounding excited.
“I couldn’t even begin to guess.”
“I got out of work early.”
Alicia laughed. “Good thing you told me because I never would have guessed that.”
“I know. Saturday off and now out of work before sunset. I’m on a roll. So let’s go to McP’s and make up for lost time. Do you have plans already?”
“Pfft.” She blew out a breath. “What plans would I have?”
She pretty much had no social life except for the occasional girl’s night out with Shelly.
“Let’s see. You could be going to your sister’s house. You could have another date with your Navy man.”
“Fake date,” she corrected, trying not to remember the feel of Brian on top of her so very recently.
“Real sex,” Shelly reminded.
“Which is not going to happen again,” Alicia added.
“Whatever,” Shelly said, dismissing the very crucial piece of information that Alicia needed them all to remember. The relationship was fake. The sex was over. The end.
“And no. No plans for tonight. Fake or otherwise.” But Shelly’s mention of Brian and McP’s had her considering if it would be wise to show up there.
She was trying to make a break from him so going to what she could only guess was his favorite bar didn’t seem like a wise decision.
“Do you want to come over to my place instead? I’m kind of in the mood for sushi and a movie.”
“I can do that. I’ll pick up wine,” Shelly offered.
“Perfect. I’ll call in the order for our usual delivery.”
Things had worked out well—both the forthcoming wine and sushi, and that Shelly hadn’t questioned her reluctance to go to McP’s. Perhaps, finally, luck was on her side.
“Sounds good. See you in about half an hour at your place,” Shelly promised.
Shelly was a good friend but she was not good at being punctual. Alicia knew this and had long ago accepted the habitual tardiness in her friend. Which is why it was such a surprise when barely half an hour later, her doorbell rang.
Impressed with Shelly’s speed, she couldn’t help but wonder what had inspired it—hunger or the need for wine.
She put down the two wine glasses she’d just pulled out of the kitchen cupboard and spun to head for the front door. But as she passed the window, the blinds and curtains still open since the sun had yet to set, she saw something that had her hitting the floor like a sopping wet towel falling off the bathroom rod.
Hiding low, she eased up just high enough so her eyes cleared the windowsill she clung to with her fingertips.
From her vantage point on the hardwood, she saw a red convertible.
It was easy to recognize the physical manifestation of her ex’s need to assert his masculinity. He’d purchased it right before he’d dumped her.
In retrospect, that should have been a clue of what was to come.
Unless Shelly had neglected to tell her best friend that she’d bought a new sportscar in the past week, the same car that Greg also owned, it was not Shelly at her front door.
She felt sick to her stomach, but in light of the evidence parked outside, she had to face the facts. It was Greg. Here. In person.
But just because he was there at her door didn’t mean she had to open it. She wasn’t above hiding. Cowering on the floor for as long as it took for him to leave.
Resigned to the fact she might be there for a while, she slid down and pressed her back against the wall.
Her car was parked out of sight in the garage, so there was no way for him to know for sure she was inside. Eventually he’d get tired of ringing the bell and pounding on the door and have to leave.
There were lights on inside. But she always left lights on, even when she wasn’t home, so she wouldn’t walk into a dark house.
He knew that from the years they’d been together. In fact, the dickhead had criticized the habit often, which had always pissed her off. But she was grateful for it now. At least he wouldn’t think it odd that she wasn’t home and lights were on.
His fist hit the door one more time and had her jumping as her body continued to shake from sheer adrenaline as she hid from her pursuer.
Finally, it was quiet. No more knocking. No more buzzing of the doorbell. Was he leaving?
Her relief was quickly replaced with panic when she realized he could be standing just a couple of feet away, on the other side of the door, trying to call her right now.
Her cell was in the pocket of her cardigan. She thrust her hand in and wrestled the device free of the knit. Knowing she might only have seconds before the cell rang and exposed her, she panicked.
Finally s
he found the tiny volume button with her finger and pushed a good dozen times, setting the sound to silent.
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she slumped back against the wall, eyes closed as she tried to recover from the scare.
The sound of a car door slamming perked her up. But she didn’t hear the engine fire.
Thinking it might be a trick to lure her out, she stayed where she was, straining to listen for the car to start. Not that she would have to listen too hard since the dickhead had gotten a super loud muffler installed.
She thought the purpose of mufflers were to make the car quieter, not the other way around. But of course, as he’d said, she was just a woman, so what did she know?
Finally, after what seemed like a long while, she heard a door slam again and then the car start.
She heard the engine revving and him shifting for a good couple of blocks before the sound faded into oblivion. Only then did she dare come out of hiding, shaking and exhausted.
Forty-five minutes later the doorbell rang again.
Like a spy—or more like someone trying to avoid their ex—she crept to the window and peeked out.
Her shoulders sagged with a combination of relief and emotional exhaustion when she saw it was Shelly this time. She’d finally arrived.
Flustered, she yanked open the door, about to launch into the harrowing tale, when her friend held up a sticky note.
“Why is there a Post-It stuck on your front door?”
She recognized the scrawl on the tiny paper. He’d left her a note. On a Post-It.
That figured. He’d broken up with her by text message. Why wouldn’t he continue to torture her via sticky note?
“Come in and I’ll explain.” Alicia eyed the single bottle in her friend’s hand and decided it probably wouldn’t be enough, but it would be a good start.
Opening and pouring the wine was the first order of business. Even more important than digging into the sushi delivery that arrived just minutes after Shelly.
Only after a big gulp of the wine could she start explaining what had happened. “Greg showed up at my door. I didn’t answer, of course. I hid. So I guess that’s why he left the note.”
Shelly glanced down at the small piece of paper, innocently resting in the center of the table as if it hadn’t totally ruined Alicia’s day.
All it said was CALL ME printed in all-caps followed by his name.
“And you still don’t know what he wants?” Shelly asked.
“No.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“No,” She said with more force.
She didn’t know what he wanted. What she did know was that she didn’t want anything to do with him.
“All right.” Her friend nodded. “So, then I guess we eat, and drink, and forget all about him . . . and maybe talk about your Navy SEAL.” She raised her eyebrows in question.
“No.” She had the feeling of being thrown from the pan into the fire. From a conversation about a man she didn’t even want to think about, to a conversation about another man she didn’t want to talk about.
“Fine.” Shelly’s tone told Alicia her friend was letting it go for now, but not forever. At least she’d have a reprieve to enjoy her sushi and white wine.
Half an hour later there was nothing but a lump of wasabi and empty take-out containers left of dinner. And, the empty bottle of wine sitting on the table next to two half-full glasses.
Shelly grabbed her glass and carried it to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Alicia did the same.
“So what are we watching?” Shelly asked.
“You pick a movie.” She was finally feeling settled enough from the earlier upheaval to sit and enjoy the night.
She had seen—and loved—every movie in her collection. Many times. It was only fair to let her guest choose the entertainment.
Shelly padded in her socks across the living room floor to the DVDs. She glanced over her shoulder at Alicia on the sofa. “You know, you might be the only person I know who still owns, and actually watches, DVDs instead of just streaming.”
She lifted one shoulder. “My mother dumped boxes of them on Jen when she became a minimalist and moved to Florida after my dad died. When Jen told me she was going to get rid of it all, I took them.”
It just didn’t feel right to toss or even donate what had been such a big part of their childhood. She couldn’t count how many hours their family had sat together in front of the TV, eating popcorn and watching one of her mother or father’s favorite movies.
Not to mention that right after the break-up she’d spent a good number of hours sobbing in front of these movies.
They were like old friends now, together for the good times and the bad.
She couldn’t get rid of them, even if she did have to go and buy a new DVD player when her parents’ old one crapped out.
Shelly flipped through the DVDs, organized inside the cases Alicia had purchased just for that purpose.
“You also might be the only person in the world who alphabetizes their DVD collection,” Shelly laughed.
“I doubt it. If they aren’t in any kind of order, how would you find what you want? It’s just more efficient.”
Shelly glanced back at her, brow cocked high. “Is that why your books and spices are also in alphabetical order?”
“Yes.” Alicia nodded matter-of-factly.
She was all about saving time and effort. The only question was, why wasn’t everyone equally efficient?
Shelly snorted. “You and Marie Kondo should hang out.”
“Who’s that?” Alicia asked.
“Never mind.” Shelly shook her head then pulled out one of the DVDs to read the back of the case. “My other question is, since you obviously have a ton of romance movies, how in the world can you be so against romance?”
“You know how.”
“You can’t write off all men because of one bad boyfriend.”
“Sure I can. All humans share basic traits. So it’s perfectly conceivable that the same thing could happen with a different man.”
“So you’re not going to even give dating your Navy man for real a chance?”
“Nope.”
“Then I choose this one.” Shelly turned and held out the movie she’d chosen.
Alicia sighed as she saw the case’s cover and title.
Top Gun starring Tom Cruise as a Navy pilot. One of her mother’s favorites. She’d seen it so many times she could quote lines from it. She loved this movie, but right now, it hit a bit too close to home.
“Brian’s not a pilot,” she informed her manipulative friend.
“But he still owns that yummy dress uniform, right?” Shelly beamed with joy over that idea.
“I’d assume so,” she admitted unwillingly.
And now, thanks to her friend, the image of Brian in that uniform was all she could envision . . . except when she imagined him stripping out of that uniform.
Scowling, she stood. “Fine. We’ll watch this one.”
Shelly grinned wide in victory and she regretted her decision to invite her friend over.
Going to McP’s and hoping Brian wouldn’t be there would have definitely been easier tonight.
Then she wouldn’t have had to hide from Greg at the door. And she wouldn’t have to watch Kelly McGillis reluctantly fall in love with Maverick, the hot cocky Navy man who looked oh so handsome in the yummy uniform.
Too late now. She was stuck with her decision. She’d have to sit there next to Shelly and pretend to ignore the parallels between the characters in the movie and her and Brian in real life.
She’d have to forget the feel of his hands and mouth on her.
Forget she’d made the choice to take a huge step back to keep him at a distance.
She’d had to do it. Serious relationships weren’t for her. Not anymore.
Besides, after her discussion with him about his distress over his mother dating, it
was clear he had relationship issues of his own. And that was just the beginning of the obstacles against them from the very start.
Nope. No dating. Maybe no more fake dating either.
She’d go on with her life. Concentrate on her career instead. And her friendships. And making herself happy.
And she’d forget all about Brian.
Easier said than done.
TWENTY-TWO
Yes. He’d called her before they went wheels up. No, she hadn’t answered. He’d even left her a voicemail, like some loser.
He couldn’t give her details but he could tell her he’d be out of communications range for a bit.
He’d figured that would at least get a text in reply. Some acknowledgment that she’d gotten it. But nope. He’d checked his phone right before they’d lost signal and had found nothing.
He hadn’t even gotten a call back from his mother, who he had to assume was having too much fun in Hawaii with Dale to bother answering her phone.
The one and only person who’d gotten back to him was the damn bartender at McP’s Pub. Ray had replied with a short but efficient, OK to a text Brian shouldn’t have sent and regretted now. Oh, well.
With both his fake girlfriend and his real mother ignoring him, he was starting to get a complex.
Good thing he was going to be too busy for the foreseeable future to worry about it. Or at least he would be occupied soon, as soon as the damn sun set and they could move out.
Right now the team was playing the sit-around-and-wait game.
Brian usually slept when they’d be working at night, but today, he couldn’t seem to relax enough to fall asleep.
The base near the southeastern border of Afghanistan had WiFi so he took advantage of it, scrolling through YouTube videos to kill time.
Stupid cat videos led him down the rabbit hole to alien invasion videos and finally to a group of Irishmen singing. It reminded him of Alicia’s albums and the songs her dad used to sing.
Shockingly, he only had to scroll through a few videos before he came upon a whole bunch of sea shanties.