by Susan Stoker
No. He left. They had one night together, that’s all it was. He didn’t want anything more to do with her. If he’d wanted more, he would’ve told her. Rayne knew it in her gut. She was a one-time fuck for him, that’s all.
She threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed for the second time that morning. Fine then. She was a woman of the world. She could have a one-night affair and be sophisticated. Not that sleeping with someone the same day made you sophisticated in any way, but still. She could do this.
Rayne went through the motions of showering and getting ready for her shift at work. She’d be flying home to Dallas/Fort Worth, then she’d have two days off before she was set to fly again. She couldn’t remember where she was scheduled to go next, but thought it was the Middle East rotation. It wasn’t her favorite, but at the moment, she couldn’t wait to get to work and try to forget the amazing man she’d met.
As she was leaving Park Plaza, the concierge handed her a note, saying, “Your gentleman asked me to give this to you with his apologizes that he had to leave early.”
Rayne politely thanked the man, blushing because she was sure he knew Ghost had run out on her and they were practically strangers.
She’d stuffed the note in her pocket, not ready to read it yet, and arrived at Heathrow just in time to meet the other flight attendants she’d be working with and get ready for the flight. She’d held out hope that Ghost would be on her flight, as he’d planned the day before, but when it came time to close the door of the aircraft, he was nowhere in sight.
Four hours after the flight took off, and after the first round of food and drinks had been served, Rayne took out the note Ghost had left for her. She’d been thinking about it for hours, and couldn’t put off reading it any longer. She unfolded the small piece of paper and smoothed it out as she read.
Princess,
I told you I didn’t do relationships…and I don’t. But this morning, for the first time in my life, I wished I was a different kind of man. Stay safe.
~Ghost
Dry-eyed, Rayne tucked the note into the book she’d been reading the day before her entire life was tilted on its axis. Knowing she’d think of things in her life as happening “Before Ghost” and “After Ghost” for quite a while, she sighed.
She rested her head on the seat behind her, and closed her eyes. She whispered to no one in particular, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”
* * *
Keane “Ghost” Bryson, occasionally known as John Benbrook, sat in first class, the only seat he could get on short notice that morning, and stared down at the picture on his phone. It was Rayne looking up at him and laughing as they stood in front of Buckingham Palace. Even though it was misting, she looked like a ray of sunshine. She had both arms around his waist and he was gazing down at her as if she was the most important thing in his world. The balcony she’d so wanted to see was a blur behind them.
Ghost could almost feel her arms tighten around him and hear her laugh. He sighed and flicked his thumb to switch to the next picture. Ghost mentally reviewed how he’d alter the tattoo he was looking at for himself. He needed it. Putting her tattoo on his skin was the closest he could come to having her in his life.
As London disappeared behind him, Ghost knew he’d left the best thing that ever happened to him in the hotel. He’d almost walked back up to the room twice before dashing out the quick note and asking the concierge to give it to Rayne.
If he was a different man…but he wasn’t. He was a Delta Force operative and he owed his life to his country for at least another five years. He wouldn’t ask any woman to put herself through the worry that being married to someone like him would bring. He’d never be able to tell her where he was going or when he’d be back. They’d never be able to sit down and talk about their days together.
And God forbid they had children. The possibility of a child of his being left fatherless was way higher than average…even for a soldier. No, it had to be this way. Rayne would find another man, one who she could love and trust.
But that didn’t mean Ghost wouldn’t mourn what might have been. He wished he could’ve met Rayne years ago. He wished he had more time with her, or…
“Damn,” he whispered to himself, cutting off his thoughts. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”
Chapter Twelve
6 Months Later
Rayne sighed as Mary berated her for what seemed like the thousandth time. “You’ve got to get your head out of your ass and get back in the game, Rayne.”
“I know, Mary. I know.”
“You say the words, but your actions don’t match them. Look, we’ve talked about this. I know you had a wonderful time with Ghost, and I’m pleased beyond all that’s holy that you finally took the plunge and had your first one-night stand…but he left London without saying goodbye, except for that cryptic note, and you haven’t heard from him again. I don’t understand what the problem is here.”
Rayne sighed, put her chin in her hand, and absently stirred her Midori martini. She didn’t know what her problem was either. Ghost had been upfront and honest with her.
He told her he didn’t do relationships. He told her their time together could only be for one night. Shit, she’d even agreed with him. But somewhere between Ghost giving the creepy taxi driver a death stare that would’ve scared the bejeebus out of her, and running his hands reverently over the tattoo on her back, she’d fallen for him…hard.
They’d made love—no, had sex—several times during the night and she’d lost herself in him. He’d been tender and dominating at the same time. He’d teased her and even though he’d made it clear they were hooking up for only one night, she’d gone and done what he’d obviously been afraid she’d do—thought they might have something after the night was over.
Waking up in the hotel room, sore and satisfied but alone, hadn’t been the best moment in her life. Even the note he’d left for her, saying that he wished he was a different kind of man, wasn’t enough to allow her to forget him.
Mary sighed. “It’s been six months, Rayne. He’s not coming back. You can’t do this to yourself. You have to get back into the dating world.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“Damn straight I’m right,” Mary crowed, sucking up the last of her Diet Coke and rum through the small straw. “Come on, I’m not saying you have to take one of these yuppies home and screw him six ways to Sunday, but at least loosen up a bit and have some fun. Let’s dance. Just dance.”
Rayne nodded and leaned over to finish her drink. Mary might be right, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck. It was time for her to move on. It was past time for her to move on. But no man she’d met since that amazing night in London all those months ago came close to making her feel one iota of what she’d felt when she was with Ghost.
When she’d first seen him in Heathrow airport, she’d sensed something about him. He was sitting with one arm resting on the back of the seat next to him. His back was against the wall and he was closely observing everyone around him. He oozed testosterone and even though many people gave him a wide berth, Rayne felt herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
She had no idea what gave her the gumption to stroll up to him as though he was a long-lost friend, but she had. They’d struck up a conversation and the next thing Rayne knew, they were touring London together.
Lunch, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and the London Eye. It had been amazing, but it wasn’t until they’d gotten into bed that her feelings had changed from lust to…more.
Oh, it was obvious Ghost had had some practice in the bedroom, but it was the way he’d been with her that had really made Rayne’s heart flutter in her chest. It was stupid, he was probably that way with every woman he went to bed with, but even that thought didn’t change the way Rayne felt.
He’d taken his time with her. He’d appreciated her body. He’d made her feel as though she wasn’t a one-night fling, and t
hat’s what really hurt most of all. Even right up to the point when he’d been poised to take her, he’d still paused and asked if she was sure. He’d been a gentleman, and the dichotomy between the obviously alpha, take-charge badass, and the caring, sensitive-to-what-she-was-feeling, oh-my-God-did-he-know-how-to-make-her-scream man was as irresistible now in her memory as it had been while lying under him in that hotel room in London.
Rayne thought about her impulsive trip to the tattoo place. About three months ago, she’d gone back to the same artist who had done the ink on her lower back and asked him to add to it. She wasn’t going to tell or show Mary, but since she’d never kept a secret from her best friend, she’d ended up keeping it quiet only until it healed. Then she’d shown it to her, and Mary had simply said, “Oh Raynie. It’s beautiful. I don’t think you should’ve done it, but it’s beautiful.”
Rayne hadn’t thought her tattoo was anything special, but remembering how Ghost had reverently run his hands over it, and marked it with his release, still had the power to make her break out in chills. She wanted to somehow immortalize the night…make it seem more permanent than it was.
She’d never thought she’d be a tattoo type of person, but it had started with the small Chinese symbol for “strength” on her bikini line. Mary had been diagnosed with breast cancer and they went together to get the ink, vowing no matter what happened to be strong. Then when Mary had beaten the cancer, Rayne had gotten the small pink ribbon added to her skin. She’d had it done on the underside of her left breast. It had hurt like nothing she’d ever felt before, but she got through it thinking about how what Mary had to experience was so much worse.
After a long talk with her brother one night, she’d made the decision to get her third tattoo. She’d wanted something small and ladylike, but had somehow walked out of the tattoo parlor with a design that spanned her entire lower back. She wanted to regret it, but couldn’t. It represented her family, and that meant the world to her. The eagle was standing upright with its wings spread, almost curling around each of her sides, it was that big.
When Ghost had taken her the last time, and she’d been bent over in front of him, he’d had an almost visceral reaction to seeing her tattoo. She had no idea why, only that he’d taken her harder and more intensely than he had any other time that night.
Rayne had asked the artist to add Big Ben so it was sort of behind the eagle, still on her back, but near her left side. He’d drawn a perfect rendering of the stately English landmark beside the eagle, somehow incorporating the bolt of lightning into the design of the clock. She’d had him make the time read two-thirty…the last time Rayne had remembered looking at the clock when she’d been with Ghost.
She’d then had the artist add the words “Quiet Professionalism” in fancy script writing around the top of the clock. Those words had been inked on Ghost’s side and they fit him to a tee. He’d never be the kind of man to stand up and bring attention to himself, but he’d do what needed to be done without bringing any undue notice to himself.
The last addition to her already way-bigger-than-she-ever-meant-it-to-be tattoo was a small ghost floating around the peak of the clock. It looked out of place with the rest of the ink, and even the artist had protested, but she’d insisted and now had a permanent reminder of the most amazing day and night of her life.
Rayne had thought she’d regret it, but did it anyway. Now, even three months after the fact, and no closer to speaking with the one man who’d touched her heart in a way even she didn’t understand, she didn’t regret that tattoo. It settled her, made her feel good inside.
“Are you coming?” Mary’s voice was impatient and Rayne could tell she was at the end of her I’m-indulging-my-best-friend-in-her-doldrums mood.
“I’m coming, keep your pants on, woman,” Rayne teased, pushing back from the small table they’d been sitting at in the large country and western bar.
Rayne joined Mary on the large wooden dance floor and they smiled and laughed as the song changed into one they could actually dance to. Neither of them knew how to dance very well, but they did know how to two-step.
They probably looked silly together. Mary was tall and slender. Her brown hair fell around her shoulders and as she moved, the layers of pink and purple she’d added peeked through. Rayne was about the same height as Mary, but she wasn’t slender. She would never again shop at the trendy stores that only carried sizes zero to ten, but she didn’t care. She liked food, hated to diet, and knew she was a normal size. She ignored the media that tried to tell women size six was average.
Rayne didn’t care about size anyway. She’d never been made fun of, didn’t have any deep dark secrets about people picking on her or abuse in her past. She loved Mary, who was naturally a size six, no matter what she ate, darn her, but she had lost weight from the cancer. She was probably more like a size two or four right now. People were people, it didn’t matter if they were a size two or a size thirty-two.
Rayne laughed with Mary as they danced. A few men tried to hit on them, but for once, it seemed that Mary wasn’t keen on getting her friend laid.
Later that night, as Rayne lay in her bed, tipsy from the alcohol, she thought once again about Ghost. Mary was right; it was time to put him out of her mind once and for all. It’d been six months. If he was going to track her down and declare his everlasting love, he would’ve done it already. But he hadn’t.
Without asking permission, Mary had tried to track him down using the information on the ID that Rayne had texted to her from the airport all those months ago. Rayne had wanted to be safe, and she’d figured sending a picture of Ghost’s driver’s license to her best friend would at least make sure that someone knew who she was about to set out into London with.
It’d been a good idea—except Mary hadn’t had any luck finding out where John Benbrook was. She’d actually driven to the address in Fort Worth that had been on the ID and found a huge apartment complex. When she’d inquired at the leasing office, they didn’t have any current tenants with that name, and they wouldn’t give her any information about past tenants either, saying something about privacy laws.
Mary wasn’t ready to give up, but Rayne had finally put a stop to it, saying that probably half the people in Texas had an old address on their licenses. Who really went to the DMV the second they moved anyway?
If she was honest with herself, Rayne knew she’d much prefer it if John, a.k.a. Ghost, tracked her down, rather than the other way around. But lying in her big bed, remembering the look of regret and sorrow on his face after he’d taken her from behind, his eyes on her tattoo, would stay with her for a long time.
It killed her to think he regretted the time they spent together. But even with the cryptic yet sweet note he’d left for her, it was obvious their short time together was just as he’d claimed it would be…a one-night thing. One beautiful, never-to-be-forgotten night, but one night all the same.
Rayne turned over to her side and ignored the slight spinning of the room around her in her drunken state. The words came out soft and heartfelt as she closed her eyes and made the final decision to get on with her life once and for all.
“Wherever you are, John Benbrook, I hope you’re safe and happy. I’ll never forget you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ghost gestured to his Delta Force teammates silently. Blade and Hollywood came up behind him and covered him as they made their way through the streets of Cairo.
Egypt had become more and more unstable as the months went by. The militants wanted control of the government, and didn’t care who they killed in the process of getting that power. So far, the United States was officially staying out of the small skirmishes that were breaking out across the country—especially in the capital city—but unofficially, Delta Force and other special operations forces were being sent in to gather intel and to see if they could ferret out the ringleaders of the Muslim Brotherhood.
The group had been designated a terrorist organization by
many Middle Eastern countries after a revolution a few years ago. The Muslim Brotherhood was generally a movement and not a political party, but after one of their supporters had been voted in as President of Egypt, and the coup d’état that followed, the Brotherhood had been shunned. They were now gathering back their power, and the United States and other countries were worried another bloody protest or takeover was in the works.
The trio moved silently through the empty predawn streets, acting on a tip they’d received late the night before. The group was supposed to be holding a meeting at a mosque east of the city, and Ghost and his team were checking it out to try to see how many people they’d managed to sway to their way of thinking.
If there were fifty to a hundred people, the government wouldn’t be very worried. It was unlikely so few men could mobilize to overthrow the government. But if it was more, then additional actions would need to be taken to try to mitigate the risk.
Ghost signaled to Blade and Hollywood and they disappeared into the gray morning light. If Ghost hadn’t been looking right at where they went, he wouldn’t have seen them. They blended in with the shadows surrounding the massive building until Ghost lost sight of them. He knew the rest of the team—Fletch, Coach, Beatle, and Truck—were around as well. They’d moved in from two other directions, but they were now also somewhere in the shadows, lurking and watching.
Ghost’s job was to watch the front, and observe the vehicles that may or may not arrive and who got out of them. For now, all was quiet…too quiet, which meant they were in the right place. In a city such as Cairo, overflowing with people, the streets should have some movement, even at this hour of the morning. The eerie quiet and unusual lack of people was a sign of something nefarious going on.