by Shandi Boyes
Even now, years after his death, church bells ring in the distance in memory of him. You can’t love somebody that much and not accept them for who they are.
Luca should have come clean—just as I am going to.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Awkward. It's only one word but extremely impacting. It's also the perfect word to describe the twenty-mile trip to Regan’s hometown. Regan’s mother is glaring at her father, who is glaring at me, and Regan is utterly oblivious to the tension surrounding us. She hasn’t spoken a word since she climbed into the back of her dad’s truck. She didn’t even flinch when her father growled upon spotting my hand curled over hers in comfort. She's once again locked down, trapped by her memories, and I fucking hate it.
With Hayden ensuring a minimum two-room gap between Regan and me all afternoon, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Most of my focus centered around the incredibly unbelievable connection Regan and I shared in the field, but some thoughts were more bitter than sweet.
Regan didn’t just confess to being in the car that claimed Luca’s life when it crashed into a tree; she divulged much more profound secrets—ones I doubt she’s ever confessed. She said Luca had an endless list of men.
At first, I thought she was a little jumbled, but the more I played our interactions through my mind, the clearer her confession became. She admitted she loved Luca in a way he could never love her back, that she has kept his secret for years. That can only mean one thing. Luca was gay.
Although surprised by the revelation, I’m not entirely stunned by it. It was obvious from the outdated posts on Luca’s Facebook wall that he was a man who craved attention. He sought it in any fashion he could get it, whether positive or negative. He cared for Regan, but not in an all-encompassing way a man besotted with her would.
That should have raised my first suspicion.
Why would you crave attention from nobodies when the absolute cream of the crop was directly in front of you, striving for your devotion? Luca did because Regan couldn’t give him everything he needed. Luca knew it; I know it; Regan is just a little slow receiving the message.
It's understandable. Her entire life was wrapped around Luca’s, so everything she thought she knew perished with him.
I can’t wait to show her it didn’t.
A flurry of buzzes, dings, and a cow mooing sounds through the truck in quick succession when we enter the outskirts of Colendale, Texas.
My hand delves into my pocket to dig out my phone when Sally laughs, “Everyone knows when the Myers are in town. Our cellphones light up like a Christmas tree. The joys of having sporadic service on the farm.”
While smiling to hide my grimace, I punch in the four digit code the salesperson at the Ravenshoe airport had me select when setting up my new phone. I can’t believe I didn’t check if I had service when Brandon failed to make contact. I assumed the forensic team still combing through the evidence was the cause for his lack of contact. I’m a fucking idiot.
After scrolling through the email alerts updating me on Isaac’s whereabouts and upcoming schedule, I stop at an email from an encrypted server.
Forensics found a partial match from the glove, sending details to mainframe. Theresa wants to be kept updated. BJ.
Forgetting that I can’t access the FBI’s database from a cell, I store Brandon’s details into my contacts before opening up my Safari app. It takes me attempting to log in three times before I remember mobile connectivity isn’t viable.
“Fuck!”
It dawns on me that I said my curse word out loud when Hayden growls, “You’d do best to tone down that language before we arrive at the church. Do you hear me, boy?”
After swallowing the brick in my throat from his deep snarl, I dip my chin. I’m in two places, torn between being a man and an agent. If Regan’s safety wasn’t involved, I’d shut down my phone and devote all my attention to supporting her during this difficult time. Instead, I reply to Brandon’s email.
Can’t access data. Forward dets to this number.
I jot down my new cell number at the end of my message.
Like all good technicians, Brandon’s reply is almost immediate.
What happened to your original phone?
My teeth grind out the string of profanities I can’t say since Hayden is watching me like a hawk as my finger punishes the screen of my phone.
Shit breaks. Get the fuck over it.
I don’t know Brandon any more than the woman who sold me my latest fandangle cell, but I can imagine him laughing at my reply. . . or dying, once I read his message.
Anger management is always an option. . .?
Thankfully a second message quickly follows the first.
I’m joking. Forwarding the information now.
The file is big, so may take a little to download.
“Not as long as it will take for your teeth to grow back after I ram them down your throat,” I mumble to myself.
My wish to kill Brandon fades when a text message pops up on my screen a few seconds later. He wasn’t joking about the file size. Before I’ve even clicked on the blue folder icon, my phone announces its storage is near capacity.
Not interested in the life history of the assailant, I scroll to the attachments responsible for the slow download speed. With the spotty reception, it takes several long minutes for the accused’s hair color to be exposed. It's mousy brown and longer than mine, which is curling around my ears after twelve months of growth.
After another few minutes, I observe that he or she has three freckles on the left brow, one of which is large in size. He or she is sporting a curly hair you’d expect to find on a witch’s chin. With the structure of their forehead being more feminine than masculine, I assume the suspect is female.
Just as portions of her murky blue eyes come into view, my phone is snatched from my hand. I’m about to rip Hayden a new asshole until it dawns on me that I’m the only traveler left seated in his truck. Regan, Sally, and over two dozen guests are standing at the stairs of the church, waiting for me.
“Shouldn’t have expected any better. If you can’t treat your woman like a lady, how will you ever act as a gentleman?”
Although pleased he called Regan my woman, I don’t get a chance to respond when he heads for the church with my almost crushed cell in his hand.
Pissed, I take off after him. He has no clue how idiotic he's being right now.
My turbines cool when I enter the church an inch from Hayden’s heel. The number of patrons outside was nothing compared to the number of mourners filling the pews, but that’s not the cause of my sudden loss of temper. It's the looks everyone is giving Regan. They’re not sympathetic ones.
While returning their dirty glares with the silent promise of retaliation, I race down the aisle to catch up to Regan. My quick steps have me beating her father to the task of consoling her. She startles within an inch of her life when I curl my arm around her waist and tug her into my side, but my chest swells when she shakes her head at her father’s attempt to usurp the nurturing role I’m fulfilling.
“I can’t believe after all this time they still hate me,” Regan murmurs when we are halfway down the aisle.
“Nobody hates you, Rae. Grief makes people stupid, but instead of recognizing that, they blame the person they believe is responsible for their confusion. Luca isn’t here, so that only leaves you.”
I feel her pulse rage through her body when her eyes stray to mine. “So what’s your excuse? You didn’t even know Luca, but you still give me the same wary stare the locals do.”
“My cagy look has nothing to do with Luca, and everything to do with you, Miss Fancy Pants.”
Her smile reveals she took my comment how I meant it. I wasn’t ridiculing her. I was complimenting her. This woman scares the shit out of me, but in a way I can’t help but encourage.
After aiding her into a pew at the front of the church, I take the seat next to her. With a stern glare warning me to behave, Ha
yden hands me my phone before demanding the man sitting next to Regan find another spot to sit. I slide my cell into my pocket without glimpsing at the screen. My chivalry makes Hayden’s eyes widen. Not by a lot, but enough to reveal I finally got a check in his ledger instead of an X.
Luca’s memorial is the standard one every church hosts at least once a week. If you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all. There's just a slight variance. This one has Regan stepping up to the podium. The confidence she exudes while mourning is inspiring. The dirty glares haven’t decreased the past hour, but she’s brushed them off. Remembering her friend is more important to her than retaliating to belligerent criticism.
Silence falls over the church when Regan removes a tattered piece of paper from her pocket. From its condition, I wouldn’t be surprised to discover it was written around the time Luca passed. She coughs to clear her throat before introducing herself to the assembly of people staring at her as if they are meeting her for the first time.
“I met Luca when he arrived in town with a city-slicker attitude and a spotlessly clean pair of boots. As my daddy always said, only a man with something to hide keeps his boots clean. . .”
A flurry of black in the corner of my eye pulls my devotion from Regan. Black isn’t an unusual color for a patron at a memorial to don, but the bright red splashes covering the diminutive lady’s shoes catch my eye. Outside of this state, I’d be suspicious the droplets were blood, but since I am surrounded by over a dozen farmers with muddy, bloodstained boots, I don’t think much of it at first.
While Regan’s charismatic personality changes some of the snarls directed at her to smiles, I twist my torso to more vigilantly assess the lady gliding down the side of the church. Since Regan has captivated the crowd as well as she does every man and woman when she enters a room, I am the only one noticing the brunette’s stealthy approach. She walks cautiously slow, as if her three-sizes-too-large jacket is hiding more than a petite frame.
My heart rate kicks up as my hand instinctively moves for my gun. I curse the air when my hunt comes up empty. I couldn’t clear my gun through customs without exposing that I am an agent, so I traveled without my weapon of choice. It was stupid of me to do. How can I protect Regan without adequate equipment? I can think of a few ways, but none of them are legal.
I watch the brunette like a hawk, praying Regan’s ability to wipe my senses has all my receptors askew. Perhaps the unnamed brunette can’t afford a better-fitting jacket, so she opted for what she had? I’m not from money, so I understand not being able to keep up with the latest trends.
When the female crosses a large-paned glass window at the side of the church, her face becomes exposed. She's pretty but in a plain, unsophisticated way. Her eyes are murky blue in color, and her bushy eyebrows barely conceal a large mole sitting on the top of her left brow.
I jump to my feet when I spot the wiry hair protruding from the middle of it. Although surprised by my sudden lurch, Regan continues with Luca’s tribute, none the wiser that the woman who threatened to hack her into pieces is sneaking up on her.
I step to the left, gaining the brunette’s attention since she can no longer see Regan hidden behind my shoulders. I jerk my chin to the exit doors on her left, requesting she leave quietly or face my wrath. The deep descent of the lump in her throat reveals she believes my threat, but for some inane reason, she continues moving toward Regan.
When she pushes off her feet, I mimic her movements. I reach her just as she barges through a cluster of people huddled at the end of my pew. I move quickly to apprehend her, but not quickly enough to stop the carnage.
To be continued. . .
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Man in Queue is available NOW!
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Acknowledgments
This is always the difficult part, thanking people. It isn’t that I’m ungrateful, I just hope they already know what they mean to me. This community is awesome. It has its ups and down, but I’ve grown so much the past three years. People come and go. Readers come and go. Even characters come and go, but one thing in my life is always constant: the love I have for my husband. He’s my rock and number one supporter. He inspires my great characters, and occasionally, my not so great ones, but, without him, there wouldn’t be any stories to share. For that alone, he deserves his own mention.
I love you, boo.
When I started this adventure, I never in my life thought it would grow to what it has. I was bored, I needed a hobby. I found one. This industry doesn’t just consume you whole, it gives back too. I love it, but just a smidge less than you, the reader. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for reading my books and writing reviews, because without you, I wouldn’t be here either.
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Until next time,
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Shandi xx
Also by Shandi Boyes
Perception Series
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Saving Noah (Noah & Emily)
Fighting Jacob (Jacob & Lola)
Taming Nick (Nick & Jenni)
Redeeming Slater (Slater and Kylie)
Saving Emily (Noah & Emily - Novella)
Wrapped Up with Rise Up (Perception Novella - should be read after the Bound Series)
* * *
Enigma
* * *
Enigma (Isaac & Isabelle #1)
Unraveling an Enigma (Isaac & Isabelle #2)
Enigma The Mystery Unmasked (Isaac & Isabelle #3)
Enigma: The Final Chapter (Isaac & Isabelle #4)
Beneath The Secrets (Hugo & Ava #1)
Beneath The Sheets(Hugo & Ava #2)
Spy Thy Neighbor (Hunter & Paige)
The Opposite Effect (Brax & Clara)
I Married a Mob Boss(Rico & Blaire)
Second Shot(Hawke & Gemma)
The Way We Are(Ryan & Savannah #1)
The Way We Were(Ryan & Savannah #2)
Sugar and Spice (Cormack & Harlow)
Lady In Waiting (Regan & Alex #1)
Man in Queue (Regan & Alex #2)
Couple on Hold(Regan & Alex #3)
Enigma: The Wedding (Isaac and Isabelle)
Silent Vigilante (Brandon and Melody #1)
Hushed Guardian (Brandon & Melody #2)
Quiet Protector (Brandon & Melody #3)
* * *
Bound Series
* * *
Chains (Marcus & Cleo #1)
Links(Marcus & Cleo #2)
Bound(Marcus & Cleo #3)
Restrain(Marcus & Cleo #4)
Psycho (Dexter & ??)
* * *
Russian Mob Chronicles
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Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance (Nikolai & Justine #1)
Nikolai: Taking Back What’s Mine (Nikolai & Justine #2)
Nikolai: What’s Left of Me(Nikolai & Justine #3)
Nikolai: Mine to Protect(Nikolai & Justine #4)
Asher: My Russian Revenge (Asher & Zariah)
Nikolai: Through the Devil's Eyes(Nikolai & Justine #5)
Trey (Trey & K)
/>
K: A Trey Sequel
The Italian Cartel
* * *
Dimitri
Roxanne
Reign
Mafia Ties (Novella)
Maddox
Demi
Rocco
Clover
Smith
* * *
RomCom Standalones
Just Playin’ (Elvis & Willow)
Ain't Happenin' (Lorenzo & Skylar)
The Drop Zone (Colby & Jamie)
Very Unlikely (Brand New Couple)
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Short Stories
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Christmas Trio (Wesley, Andrew & Mallory -- short story)
Falling For A Stranger (Short Story)
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Coming Soon
Skitzo