by Leslie North
At this altitude, a constant brisk wind smacked her hard in the face and her hair kept coming loose from beneath the helmet they’d strapped on her head. If she wasn’t so stubborn—clear down to her bones, as her parents always used to say—she would’ve told Mark to forget it and bring her back up on the roof.
Unfortunately, though, Geneva was no quitter. So, here she hung, glancing down at the very hard, very distant concrete sidewalk below. “Are you sure this stuff will hold me?”
“Yes, I promise.” Mark nodded from beneath his orange hardhat. “Tested all the ropes and carabiners myself. They’re idiot-proof.”
As if to prove his point, one of the patrol officers, a portly guy who looked more like Santa than a servant of the law, skittered down the wall beside her like he was walking in the park.
“See?” Mark hiked his chin toward the guy. “If he can do it, so can you.” Santa, Jr. waved and chuckled at her as he sped past Geneva on his way to the ground. “C’mon. I’ve got other guys waiting to use your lines.”
Damn.
Geneva closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to psych herself up for what appeared to be certain death. If you’re there, Jaime. A little help please.
“Just tell your body what to do,” Mark said, his voice steady and calm. “Now go.”
Inch by inch, she lowered herself; hand over hand, eyes closed and heart pounding. She’d interviewed convicted killers, conducted sting operations on crooked politicians, even gone undercover in a rat-infested crack house. None of that had been even half as terrifying as this.
Before she knew it, however, arms reached up to grab her and Mark’s two partners guided her the last few feet to the ground. Safe. She was safe. She winked up at the sky above. Thanks, Jaime. Her job might require staunch disbelief and her usual outer attitude might be cynical to the core, but her heart and soul still needed some anchor to hope and wonder.
“Good job, Geneva,” Jace said, helping her off with her harness. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Peering up to the rooftop of the building, Geneva spotted Mark giving her a thumbs-up and pride mixed with no small amount of attraction flooded her system. She’d never, ever, pictured herself doing something so crazy. Yet, she had. Imagine that. “No. Not so bad after all.”
“Take a seat over there with the others.” Vann pointed to where the rest of the group was gathered near a water cooler, his demeanor business-like as always. “We’ve still got a few more runs before we’re done.”
Geneva nodded. She usually had a magic touch where men were concerned, getting them to talk about all sorts of things they normally kept hidden—a talent she used to her advantage as a reporter. Vann, though, seemed like a conundrum wrapped inside a sturdy wall of nope.
She joined the rest of the group of participants. Didn’t matter. Her real mission here was getting to Mark Rogers. Maybe Jace too, if she could pin him down long enough for an interview. He’d been friendly enough to her tonight. Geneva made her way to the water cooler set up on the back bumper of the Humvee, nodding vague acknowledgments to the officers around her, her knees still wobbly and her pulse still racing. Hard as scaling down the side of that building had been, she felt exhilarated, triumphant, damned near giddy.
“Quite a rush, eh?” Someone patted her on the back. “You from around here, miss?”
“Bay Area,” Geneva said between sips of water. It was Santa, Jr.
“Ortega’s a fine town,” he said. Lord, the guy even had a white beard. Geneva bet he made a boatload of cash renting himself out for parties once the holidays rolled around. “Been here all my life,” Santa, Jr. said. “And you won’t find better trainers than these boys here at Brothers In Arms.”
“Are you a personal friend of theirs?” She took a seat on the curb and invited the officer to sit next to her. “I’m just passing through.”
“Oh, I’ve known the Rogers family for years. Hard times their mom had after their no-good dad left them. The kids were real young,” Santa shook his head. “Hear he lives in Phoenix now, the deadbeat.”
“Hmm.” Geneva wanted to ask more about Mark’s father, but didn’t want to blow what rapport she had with the guy by being too pushy. “His mom still lives here though?”
“Yep. Sefina runs a restaurant not too far from here, called Aiga’s. That’s the Samoan word for family.”
“Interesting.” From seeing Mark interact with his sister back at Scoops and hearing a little about what happened with his parents, it was understandable why he was so close with the family he had left. Geneva’s heart pinched unexpectedly as thoughts of her brother flooded her mind once more. She and Jaime had been close too. They both lived out here on the west coast while their parents had stayed back east in Virginia. She hadn’t been home to visit in years. In fact, the last time she’d seen her parents had been at Jaime’s funeral. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and frowned down at her plastic cup of water, doing her best to stay focused on her conversation with Santa. “What about—”
“Geronimo!” Mark yelled from where he dangled at the top of the building before hurtling to the ground at breakneck speed. He stopped a few feet short from the sidewalk to gasps and applause from the students. “Thanks everyone for coming out tonight. Next time, we’ll be doing wilderness training. Have a good week.”
Geneva shook off the odd tension filling her muscles and quickening her pulse. For a moment, all she could picture was Mark plummeting to his death, and it left her strangely… terrified. Seeing a man die would be horrific, and the fact that man would be Mark only increased the strange, heart-squeezing pressure in her chest.
She shook off the weird feelings and pushed to her feet. She’d been on the road all morning and hadn’t taken a break yet. That had to be the reason for her odd connection to a man she’d only met hours earlier.
The guys were gathering up and stowing their equipment in the back of the Humvee and she pitched in to help. Seemed the least she could do after they’d given her the most amazing time of her life thus far, even if Mark and Vann still looked at her as if she were toxic waste.
Geneva hazarded a glance at Mark, that distracting warm tingle inside her spreading out from her core to her extremities. Honestly, the guy was built like a Greek god and had a smile that hinted at all sorts of wicked adventures, and she wouldn’t be diametrically opposed to some exciting times ahead between the two of them, perhaps even some between the sheets action. There was no doubt in her mind Mr. Mark Rogers could take her to new heights there as well. But first though, she needed to get inside his head, get his opinion on those recent deaths. Then, maybe, they could learn more about each other in different…areas. Besides, she found she wasn’t quite ready for their night to end despite her fatigue. “So, what do you guys do after class ends?”
“Back to the office for me,” Vann said, his voice abrupt. He gave Geneva a warning look before returning his attention to their students. Right. The guy was protective of Mark. Good to remember.
“Jeez, some manners would be nice, bro,” Jace said. “Don’t mind him, Geneva. Vann’s just pissed because he had to work the bottom tonight. Guy loves being up in the clouds.”
“To answer your question.” Mark pushed between his buddies to toss a bundle of ropes and equipment into the back of the Humvee. “We usually hang out. Sometimes I head back to the compound to finish up paperwork or whatever.”
“Oh.” His response hadn’t exactly been an open invitation, but still there was a little wiggle room and Geneva took all the opportunities she could find. She leaned against the side of the vehicle as they finished loading their stuff, and Vann slammed the back of the Humvee closed. “Anybody want to grab a bite to eat?” she asked. “Since I’m new here, I don’t really know any good places.”
“Can’t,” Vann said, climbing into the driver’s seat of the Humvee.
Jace backed slowly toward the sidewalk once more, exchanging a look with Mark. “Wish I could, but I need to do
uble-check for any forgotten gear, then I’m pulling a shift at the garage tonight. Maybe next time though.” He waved to Geneva then disappeared into the lobby of the bank building again.
Which left her and Mark. He stood like a statue beside her—a gorgeous, skeptical statue, but still—arms crossed and gaze narrowed. “Why do you really want to have dinner with me?”
“Besides the fact I’m starving?” She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I thought maybe we could talk some more. Get to know each other better.” At his sigh, she held up her hands. “No strings attached and no questions about my story, I promise. Plus, it will give me a chance to thank you for an incredible experience tonight.”
“Huh.” One side of his full lips quirked into a cocky smile. “I usually only hear that the morning after.”
“Wow.” Geneva shook her head. “Humble too.”
“Hey, I’m just being honest.” He checked his watch. He’d changed into black jeans and company polo since she’d seen him earlier at the ice cream shop and still looked fresh as clean laundry. She, on the other hand, felt a bit dirty, shaken and generally disconcerted after her trek down Ortega’s tallest building.
“Scoops should still be open,” Mark said, “if you want to head there.”
“Let’s do it.” She fished her keys out of her pocket and headed for her SUV.
“See you later at the office?” Vann called to Mark as he started the Humvee.
“Nah,” Mark turned back to Geneva and smiled. Sincere or not, she felt that grin all the way to her toes. “We’re going to grab some dinner at Leila’s. I’ll probably head home after that. See you tomorrow.”
7
An hour later, Mark and Geneva sat at a back table at Scoops. Thankfully, his sister had been too busy to do more than take their orders after they’d come in, so he wasn’t subjected to the usual sibling interrogations he got whenever he went out on a date.
His thoughts stopped short. This was not a date.
This was business. Nothing more.
A way to find out more about Geneva and this story she felt compelled to write.
And yes, she’d more than proven herself back at the training and yes; even Mark had to say he was impressed with her courage. Still didn’t mean he was ready to bare his soul to a woman he hardly knew.
One of the waiters brought over their lemon sodas and Geneva put down her phone at last. Apparently, she’d had a chance to charge it up on the drive to Leila’s place and now it all but monopolized her attention. Typical of the reporters he’d met. He shook his head. Always rooting around for their next angle.
“Can I ask you something?” She set her phone aside then took a cookie wafer from the top of her soda and bit into it. Mark did his best not to notice the trace of whipped cream dotting her upper lip or his crazy urge to lick it off.
Damn. His libido was seriously out of control.
“I suppose.” He took a long swig of his soda. The tangy lemon and fizz of the soda water tickled his nose, distracting him from the knot of unexpected lust for Geneva in the pit of his gut. “Doesn’t mean I have to answer, right?”
Geneva gave him an irritated look. “What do you make of all these deaths?”
“Which ones?” He was being deliberately obtuse, but he didn’t care.
“The SEALs.” She gave him a don’t-be-a-smartass look. “Besides the two retired SEALs who worked for you, there was another guy who was still active-duty, home on leave.”
“What about them?”
“Are you going to answer every one my questions with another question?”
He opened his mouth to give another sarcastic response then stopped as he caught sight of the TV in the corner. Another commercial for that entitled asshole Frank Sutton. Mark gave a disgusted snort and downed more of his soda. Bastard was an ex-SEAL, but didn’t deserve to wear the title. He’d damned near washed out during Hell Week and only served his required enlistment before getting out.
Normally, Mark would’ve said good riddance. Except now, Sutton was running for Congress and using his former Navy SEAL status to woo people’s votes. The end of the commercial said it was sponsored by some super PAC calling themselves, The American Way Group. More like racist, bigoted bastards group, at least from what Mark had read. They believed the country belonged in the hands of those they considered to be true Americans—white men.
“What’s wrong?” Geneva frowned, swiveling to see the TV behind her. “Oh, that guy.”
“Sutton’s an idiot,” Mark grumbled.
“Tell me how you really feel.” Geneva faced him again with a grin. “What don’t you like about him?”
“There aren’t enough hours in the day.” Mark chuckled. “Trust me.”
“How about you trust me?”
He gave her a long look. Gaining my trust takes time, sweetheart, and you haven’t earned it yet. No way was he spilling his guts about his true feelings regarding his comrades’ deaths. He swallowed hard against the tension knotting his throat. Especially with what he and the guys had found in those autopsy reports earlier, confirming his suspicions those deaths weren’t suicides at all. So instead, he concentrated on the topic at hand, hoping to distract her and himself too. “I don’t like Frank Sutton or his backers.”
“Why not?” Geneva asked as another waiter delivered their burgers and fries to the table. “He’s an ex-SEAL, right? I thought you guys had some kind of eternal brotherhood.”
“For those people who join for the right reasons, yeah we do.” He picked up the ketchup and squirted a generous portion on his fries then watched while she did the same. “Frank was never in it for the right reasons.”
“Why did he join then? From what I’ve heard the training alone would be enough to deter anyone who didn’t want to be there.”
“Who knows?” Mark took a huge bite of burger then wiped his mouth. “Fame, prestige, bragging rights. All the above. He got out as soon as he could too. All I remember about the guy back then is he liked to drink and run his mouth. A lot.”
“Hmm.” Geneva dug into her food with gusto and Mark was glad. He couldn’t stand those women who nibbled everything like rabbits. Give him a woman with a healthy appetite any day. “That’s weird,” she said. “I thought it was a SEAL prerequisite to be a selfless, tough, silent type. One for all and all for one, sort of thing.”
“The best of us are, but not Sutton,” he said around a bite of fries. “That dumbass used to sit around the mess hall yammering about how bad he wanted to be rich and how the world owed him. He thought he got the shaft because his wealthy daddy lost all his money speculating in real estate. Idiot.”
“Interesting.” Geneva took another gulp of her lemon soda. “What about his backers? The American Way Group? What did they ever do to you?”
“Me personally?” Mark shrugged, and then finished off his burger before answering. He couldn’t see any harm in telling her his thoughts on this subject. After all, the guy was running for public office. Wasn’t like Frank Sutton’s background was a secret anymore. And those American Way bastards ran their damned TV commercials what seemed like every two seconds. “Well, let’s see. Other than they’d like to see America’s power returned to a bunch of old white guys who only care about themselves and have no idea what the rest of the people who make up this fine country deal with on a daily basis, you mean?”
“Okay then.” She smiled at him after devouring another fry. “Anything else?”
“Sutton’s running on a platform that freezes the minimum wage at a sub-standard level, promotes discriminatory policies toward people of color and women, and he’d happily trot us right back into a bunch of wars America has no business being in. That enough?”
“Plenty. So, can we talk about your two former employees now?”
Mark gave her a flat look. “You never quit, do you?”
“Not unless I’m absolutely forced.” Geneva shrugged and nibbled another fry. “Besides, I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I did, right?”<
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With a sigh, Mark tapped his fingers on the table. As long as she was in town, he wouldn’t get any peace until he talked to her, that much was obvious. He’d had more than enough interviews to last him a lifetime, not including the ones he’d been wrangled into after his last unit in Kabul had been involved in a high-profile firefight. Once he’d arrived back in the states, the reporters had descended like vultures to get his insider’s view of what had happened. Jace and Vann had been targeted too, but Mark had taken the brunt as the unit’s leader. If anything, at least the experience had taught him to answer only exactly what was asked and to keep your cards close to the vest. Especially with what they’d discovered on Rick’s autopsy report earlier. “What do you want to know?”
“How well did you know the victims?”
“You probably know all of this already, but we all served together in Afghanistan. After the war, Rick and Jon both came to work for me at Brothers In Arms as independent contractors. Taught some of our obstacle course classes and self-defense.”
“So you were close with them?” Geneva narrowed her gaze.
“Not overly.” Mark shrugged. “What’s your point?”
“I’m just wondering if there were signs.”
“What kind of signs?” He frowned.
“Depression or talk of suicide or anything at all that might’ve made you think they were in trouble.”
Honestly, after Rick’s death six months ago and Jon’s only two months prior, Mark had thought of nothing else. Guilt had kept him up for a couple of nights, thinking he should’ve seen something, done something to prevent what had happened. Hell, Rick had two little girls and a loving wife at home and Jon had just gotten engaged a few months prior. That’s what had initially started him on his path to the truth about their deaths. They had no reason to want to die and every reason to want to live. Now, after seeing those reports this afternoon, he would make it his mission to prove they’d been murdered.