Tackle (K19 Security Solutions)

by Heather Slade

  When she shuddered and leaned her head against my hand, I knew she wished she hadn’t, either.

  “Take him home and come back.”

  She moved away from me. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “You know you want me again, Sloane. Just as much as I want you.”

  She turned and looked at me over the seat. “You’re off-your-ass drunk, Tackle.”

  “So?”

  “Get the hell out of my car.”

  When she turned around to face the front again, I could see the glimmer of a smile. I moved her hair out of my way and put my lips where my fingertip had been.

  “Where are we?” groaned Halo, trying to sit up.

  “Unblock me,” I whispered before getting out of the car and watching her drive away.

  8

  Sloane

  When I woke the next morning feeling just as sick as I had the day before, I cursed both my brother and Tackle for calling me in the middle of the night to give them a ride home. I meant what I said, though. I was glad they had rather than try to drive themselves.

  I rolled over and went back to sleep, thankful that I didn’t have to get up and go to work for the rest of the week.

  “How are you this morning, mija?” my mother asked, coming into my bedroom and sitting on the side of my bed. She felt my forehead. “Still no fever. Do you want to try to eat something?”

  Nothing I could think of sounded appealing.

  “I’ll bring you something.”

  I fluffed my pillow and rested my head on it. Why was I so tired? And why did I have to get sick at Christmas when I was already off work? Actually, no. I didn’t have the kind of job where I could afford to take sick leave. Investigations didn’t stop because the person responsible fell ill.

  “Try eating some toast,” my mother said, coming back into my room with a tray that had far more on it than toast. Just the scent of the two roses she put in a small vase was turning my stomach. “Can you take these away?” I asked, handing her the flowers.

  My mother raised a brow.

  “What?”

  “Your symptoms are…interesting.”

  “Please. Just take them.” I shoved the vase in her direction on my way to the bathroom.

  “Hey, sorry about last night,” said Knox, who met me in the hallway. I held up one finger and raced past him. When I came out, he was leaning against the wall.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Are you feeling any better at all?”

  “I thought so, but now, not so much.”

  Knox followed me into my room and pulled a chair over when I got back in bed. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I screwed up.”

  “How?”

  “Tackle told me the thing about the woman in confidence. I never should’ve mentioned it to you.”

  “What your friends do is none of my concern, Knox.”

  “He said you asked about his girlfriend.”

  “I was making a joke.” I sounded pissy even to myself. I hoped Knox would attribute it to my being sick rather than wonder why talking about Tackle and his girlfriend made me so mad.

  I picked up a piece of the dry toast my mother had brought to me. One wouldn’t think eating the equivalent of a roof shingle would taste any good, but I was hungry enough that it did. When that stayed down, I tried some of the chunks of fruit she’d also brought.

  Why didn’t I eat more cantaloupe? I mean, God, was there anything better? And the strawberries? Wow. Where had she gotten fruit this good in December?

  “Are you okay?”

  I opened my eyes, which had been shut in food ecstasy, and studied my brother. “Yeah, why?”

  “You look like Tackle and I did after spending a couple of days in the Somalian desert with no food and little water.”

  “I was sick.”

  “Right. Anyway, if you could forget I said anything about Tackle’s…uh…friend, I’d appreciate it. I guess she isn’t as into him as he was her.”

  I was tempted to pick up the bowl of fruit and hurl it at my brother, but only because he was sitting in front of me and Tackle wasn’t. I guess I had my answer as to why he was in such a big hurry to make nice with me. She wasn’t that into him, so he’d get it where he could.

  After Knox left, I rested my head against the pillow and thought about last night. Remembering Tackle’s finger on my neck, and then his lips, sent a shudder running through me now like it had then.

  “You know you want me again, Sloane. Just as much as I want you,” he’d said. Want him again? No. I wanted him forever. He wasn’t a slice of pizza I wanted another bite of. I wanted to wake up next to him every morning for the rest of my life.

  I’d spent plenty of afternoons, when I was a teenager, writing Sloane Sorenson over and over again on a piece of paper that, afterward, I’d rip to shreds. I even came up with names for the children I fantasized we’d have one day. Not names so much as one name. Landry. Whether we had a boy or a girl first, that’s what I’d want to name the baby.

  God, how long had it been since I thought about any of that? Silly, childish fantasies—that’s all they were. The reality was, I’d been a “I just almost died and I need to get laid” booty call.

  After eating the rest of the fruit and the toast, I decided I felt good enough to take a shower. When I finished, I felt like I needed a nap, so I took one. When I woke again, I could hear voices from downstairs.

  I’d heard one in particular often enough that I recognized it immediately. What the hell was Tackle doing here so early? I rolled over and checked the time. Noon? I’d slept another three hours?

  “Hey, you awake?” asked Knox, sticking his head in my room.

  “If I wasn’t, I would be now.”

  “Tackle’s here. We were hoping we could take you out to thank you for picking us up last night.”

  “Why? So I can be the designated driver again?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. We were thinking lunch or dinner.”

  The look on my brother’s face almost made me cry. I thought back to the day at the airport and how he’d said he wanted to spend more time with me. “I was joking. That sounds really nice. When?”

  “Now. Or, um, later. Whatever you want.”

  “I am hungry.”

  “Get ready and we’ll go. What do you feel like? Or should we just pick something?”

  “Pizza.”

  “You got it.”

  Knox backed out of the room and went downstairs. I could hear him tell Tackle that I’d agreed to go with them, but I didn’t catch his response.

  After brushing my teeth, I got dressed, put my hair up in a bun, and sat down to lace up my boots. Was this a good idea? Was Tackle trying to make things seem “normal” between us? Would he treat me like his kid sister the same way Knox did? If so, it would kill me.

  I slowly made my way down the stairs, thinking that when I reached the bottom, I’d tell them I wasn’t feeling well enough to go with them after all.

  However, when my eyes met Tackle’s, who was standing by the door, I decided not to.

  Like at the airfield, I imagined he was imploring me. To do what this time? Forgive him? Tell him I understood, and while my heart was breaking knowing that he and I would never have the kind of relationship I’d longed for in my fantasies, at least when the time came that I met, fell in love, and married another man, I would do so knowing that at least once in my life, I’d had sex with my first crush—my first love?

  “Where’s Knox?” I asked.

  “Outside, talking to your parents.”

  “Oh.” I opened the front hall closet and pulled out a jacket.

  “Here, let me,” he said, taking it from my hands and holding it out for me.

  “Thanks,” I said, peering over my shoulder. He’d leaned in close, and his eyes were closed.

  “You smell so good.” He inhaled as if I were a flower.

  “Um, thanks.” I tried to take a step away, but his han
ds remained on my shoulders.

  “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’d hoped that, after we eat, I could convince you to meet me somewhere private so we can talk.”

  When the front door opened, he removed his hands and I took two quick steps forward. “Ready?” I asked when Knox saw me standing there.

  “If you are.”

  When we drove up in front of Max & Millie’s, Knox told us to get a table and that he’d park and meet us inside.

  “This is your favorite pizza place, right?” Tackle asked, holding the door open for me.

  “Can’t beat it.”

  “Yeah, it’s my favorite too.”

  Millie led us to a booth. Rather than sitting across from me, Tackle sat beside me.

  “This is a little awkward,” I mumbled with a nervous laugh.

  Tackle scooted closer, crowding me against the wall. “Not awkward at all. I can touch you all I want, and Halo will never know.”

  “I think he’ll notice. Besides, who says I want you to touch me?”

  “You do.” He moved farther away from me when we saw Knox headed our way.

  The guys ordered a pitcher of beer, but the thought of it turned my stomach. “I’ll just have a glass of water with lemon,” I told our waitress, who looked like she was just out of high school.

  “You were in here a few nights ago, weren’t you?” she asked Tackle.

  “Uh, maybe. I don’t remember.”

  “Yeah, it was you.” She continued staring at him long enough that I thought about asking him to move so I could claw her eyeballs from her head.

  “Ahem, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d like to order.”

  “Sure thing, honeybunch. Go ahead.” She still hadn’t looked at me.

  I reached over and put my hand on Tackle’s arm. “Isn’t that funny, baby?” I said in the most annoying, over-the-top, drippingly sweet voice I could. “She called me honeybunch, just like you do.”

  Knox laughed so hard he spit out his drink of beer. Tackle put his hand on mine. “Sorry, miss, but I don’t allow anyone to call her honeybunch but me.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it while Knox kept laughing.

  “You’re a lucky girl,” the waitress muttered. “I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks.” She walked away, ignoring my request to order food.

  I pulled my hand from Tackle’s, picked up my menu, and buried my heated cheeks in it.

  “That was great,” said Knox, nudging me under the table with his foot.

  The waitress returned a few minutes later with the guys’ beer and water for me. No lemon, of course.

  “Chicks,” muttered Knox, noticing.

  “Chicks? What are you? From the seventies?”

  Tackle laughed and shook his head. “That’s the same thing I told him the other day.”

  Both of their heads turned when two women came in.

  “That’s who I was talking about,” said Knox, pointing to one of them who had taken a seat but left her sunglasses on.

  Tackle fidgeted and looked back at the menu.

  “What the heck is her name?” mumbled Knox. Tackle pretended like he hadn’t heard him.

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  “Just someone we—ouch! Shit. Why’d you kick me?” my brother said to the man sitting beside me.

  I was just about to ask Tackle to move so I could excuse myself when one of the women stood and walked toward our table.

  “Hello, Knox. Hi, Landry,” she said. Evidently, my cloaking device had kicked in, rendering me invisible.

  “Hi. I’m Sloane,” I said, not that she responded. Like the waitress, she couldn’t take her eyes off Tackle.

  “Hey, Nick,” he said.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. Do you have a minute?”

  “Now isn’t a great—”

  “I won’t keep you. Just for a minute.”

  “Excuse me.” Tackle slid from the booth and followed her into the bar area.

  “Her name is Nick?” I asked.

  Knox’s gaze followed them. “I remember now; it’s actually Claudette.”

  “Why does he call her Nick?”

  “It’s her last name. Everyone called her that back in high school. Although, that isn’t her name anymore. She’s married, but of course I can’t remember her husband’s name.”

  “Why were you talking about her?”

  “I thought maybe that was the woman Tackle was interested in. Then I remembered she was already hitched.”

  I grimaced. “Hitched? Who are you?”

  “Quit busting my chops.”

  “Sure thing, King Cliché.”

  Knox didn’t appear to have heard me. His focus was on Tackle and “Nick.”

  “Oh, shit,” he said under his breath.

  “What?” I leaned forward at the exact, right moment to see Tackle embrace her. “They have history?” I asked.

  “You can’t tell him I said anything.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “They were on and off in high school. He’s always had a soft spot for her.” Knox took a drink of his beer. “He’s headed back this way.”

  “Listen,” Tackle said without sitting back down beside me. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but there’s something I need to do.”

  “Go ahead,” I said without looking up at him.

  “I’ll catch up with you later?”

  I saw from the corner of my eye that Tackle was looking at me, but I had no reason to catch up with him later or any other time.

  “Bye,” I said.

  “You need…help?” Knox asked him.

  “No, but thanks. I’ll call you later.”

  9

  Sloane

  I managed to avoid Tackle throughout the rest of the holidays by staying at my friend’s place in Boston. She was off on another trip, this time to Europe. I offered to sublet her apartment since I was staying there so often, but she laughed. “My dad owns the building, Sloane. It isn’t like I pay rent.”

  This afternoon, I was on my way to Newton to say goodbye to Knox. He’d called earlier to say the missing-person case he was working on was taking him out of town. I’d told him I had to swing by the office first, but I hoped to be to him by noon or one.

  “Thanks for driving over,” he said when I walked into the house. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted to.” I hugged him hard and looked down at his bag that sat at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Can I give you a lift?”

  “Nah, Tackle is on his way here now, but thanks.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I need to get back to work, but I wanted to see you. Stay safe and I love you.”

  Knox studied me in a way that made me uncomfortable. “I love you too, Sloane,” he finally said.

  Rather than return to the office right away, I stopped by the apartment to grab a bite to eat. While I didn’t feel much better than I had on Christmas, I did find that if I ate small meals throughout the day, I didn’t feel as nauseous. I’d decided earlier in the week that if my body didn’t sort itself out by today, I’d make an appointment.

  “Is there any chance you’re pregnant?” the nurse at my doctor’s office asked when I described my symptoms after sitting on hold for over twenty minutes.

  “None.”

  “The first I can get you in to see a doctor is in two weeks. If you can’t wait that long, you could always go to an urgent care facility.”

  I told her I could wait but if it got worse, that’s what I’d do.

  I gathered up what I needed for work, put my laptop in my bag, and took the elevator to the lobby. I stepped off, and my eyes met the very man I’d been trying to avoid. “What are you doing here?” I asked Tackle.

  “I’ve been trying to connect with you for two weeks, Sloane. Longer than that, actually.”

  “Did it occur to you that I wasn’t interested in connecting with you?”

  “I’ve never known you to be rude.”


  “Too bad I can’t say the same about you.”

  “Come on, Sloane. This conversation is long overdue.”

  “What it is, is unnecessary. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

  “I disagree. There are things I need to say.”

  I tried to step around him, but Tackle blocked me.

  “Do you really want it to be this way between us?” he asked.

  “Between us? There isn’t any us. You’re my brother’s best friend. End of story. You’ve never needed to say anything to me in the past. You still don’t.”

  “I want to explain.”

  “Leave me alone, Tackle.”

  He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “I’m begging. On your brother’s life if I have to.”

  I was tempted to slap his fucking face. “Are you kidding me? Tell me you didn’t just say that. How dare you?”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry. That was too much. It’s just really important to me that we talk. Give me fifteen minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

  I looked at my phone as much to check the time as to buy myself a minute to think. The truth was, there wasn’t much for me to do back at the office. At one point, I’d thought about taking the afternoon off.

  “Fifteen minutes,” I said. “That’s it.”

  “Thank you.”

  We walked over to the elevator, and he pressed the call button. I couldn’t help but remember the last time we were in the same place. I wanted so badly for him to kiss me like he had that day. Forget about talking. Fall into bed the second we walked through the door to the apartment.

  When I looked up, Tackle was studying me. The moment our eyes met, he reached over and hit the emergency-stop button, bringing us to a jarring halt. His eyes still boring into mine, he crowded me into the corner.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded.

  I shook my head but didn’t look away.

  “About this?” He put his fingertips on my chin and kissed me exactly how he had that day.