Tackle (K19 Security Solutions)

by Heather Slade

  “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know who you are when you aren’t with your family.”

  “I’m not different.”

  “Yeah, you are. I’ve seen glimpses of it over the years. The night of the prom, the day our plane landed in DC. I saw the Sloane who isn’t just the daughter or the little sister. I want to know her better.”

  “You said I know how hard the work you do can be on families. You’re right. I’ve seen it firsthand, both with you and Knox and with my dad. I’m not saying that you and I will ever be in a relationship, but the closer I get to you, the harder it will be every time I know you’re out there, facing another dangerous situation.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I worry about Knox so much.”

  “And you worry about me.”

  “Too much, Tackle. When your plane stopped on that tarmac, I wanted to see you more than my brother. I’m not sure either of my parents noticed, but I got the feeling your mother did.”

  “I think you’re right. She said something about calling her that night if my plans changed. Since all I was supposedly doing was dropping you off at work, I thought her comment was odd.”

  “I’m not the kind of person who can hide what I’m feeling, Tackle. It could even be why I’ve felt nauseous for so many days in a row. It’s like my body feels the subterfuge and wants to expel it.”

  “What are you feeling about me, Sloane?”

  “The same things you are. The idea that you might have died without me knowing how it felt to be intimate with you was why I was, um, a little bolder than I’ve ever been.”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and she cast her gaze downward. Both things made my cock rock-hard. I held out my hand, and she put hers in it. “You asked what I wanted from you. I’m asking the same thing.”

  Sloane took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This isn’t easy to say, and I’d rather that after I have, you don’t ask me any other questions.”

  “I can’t make that promise.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “I wanted you to be, you know, my first.”

  My already hard cock started to throb.

  “That excites you?” she asked, perhaps noticing my accelerated breathing and the way I had to readjust my jeans.

  “It does. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “We’re done with that. You know and I know. We can check it off the list.”

  Her words caused an ache in my chest. “We’ve barely scratched the surface, Sloane.”

  My eyes met hers, challenging her to say otherwise. I never dreamed she would.

  “I’m done, Tackle. I’m not interested in more.”

  I was stunned. “How can you say that?”

  “I told you before, I can’t be your hookup girl. It isn’t who I am.”

  “We can do other things,” I said, waving my free hand over the table. “Have dinner together. Hang out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you and you like me.”

  “No.”

  “Just like that? No?”

  “We want different things in life.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She laughed and folded her arms in front of her. “Whether you think so now or not, I can’t imagine you won’t, one day, go back to your job. That right there is enough for me to walk away.”

  I started to speak, but Sloane shook her head. “I want a regular life, Tackle. I’m hoping that now that I’ve gotten you out of my system, I can move on, find a nice guy, maybe even get married and start a family.”

  “No other man will make you feel as good as I can.”

  Sloane laughed. “You’re right about me liking you. I do. I always have. Your cockiness, how you make me laugh, not to mention you have a killer body—”

  “And I’m handsome.”

  She smirked. “Yes, you’re handsome. All of that makes for a great crush. Even for the perfect person to finally give my virginity to. But not for real life. You know that as well as I do.”

  I wanted to argue, but could I? I knew Sloane was right. I wanted more time with her, but how much more? A couple of weeks where I spent as much time as I could with both of us naked, pleasuring each other’s bodies? I said we could hang out, but eventually, that would get weird, and even though my friendship with Halo was strained presently, we’d still remain good friends—even best friends—for the rest of our lives. If things went on for too long between Sloane and me, maybe she’d start asking for more than I could give, and then it would be awkward between us forever.

  “You’re leaving me wanting more. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.”

  “It’s good for you, Tackle. It’ll build character.”

  “Is that what it’ll do? I thought all I’d get out of it was a pair of blue balls.”

  Sloane laughed. “Let’s walk away while we can still be friends. Okay?”

  I nodded. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

  Sloane put her hand on her heart. “Did you just say I’m right? Wow, that plane crash really did change you.”

  11

  Sloane

  I let Tackle walk me back to my friend’s building, but stopped short of inviting him up. If I did, we’d end up back in bed, and I couldn’t do that. It didn’t help his case that his phone rang two more times on the walk home, and instead of pulling it out, he ignored it.

  “You sure about this?” he asked when we got to the elevator. “I could tuck you in.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll go upstairs and you can return the call of whoever is so desperately trying to reach you.”

  He took a step forward, maybe to kiss me, but the elevator door opened and I stepped inside. “Goodbye, Tackle.”

  Walking away, hurt. I couldn’t deny that, but I knew I had to make a clean break now, or when the time came that he did, I would be devastated.

  While I didn’t want kids right now, I knew that someday I would. When that time came, there was no way I could go through what my mother had when my father was gone for weeks at a time. I’d already experienced the bitter taste of worry too often.

  On the elevator ride up, I thought about the wording of what I might say on a dating site. “Seeking a man who avoids danger and travel—a boring homebody.”

  I probably should add “really good at sex,” since I knew it would be impossible for me not to compare every man I’d ever be with to Tackle. Something told me no man would ever measure up.

  When I woke Saturday morning, I decided to pack up my stuff and go home. I could use a couple of days with my mother, letting her smother me in helicopter-mom overload.

  I was just about to put on my jacket when I heard the intercom buzz. Other than on the rare occasion I ordered food delivery, I never heard it. And since I wasn’t expecting anyone, I ignored it.

  The thing rang again as I walked out the door and locked it behind me. Once in the elevator, I stuck a ball cap on my head, fastened my jacket up tight to my neck, and wrapped a scarf around the lower part of my face.

  With my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I stepped off in the lobby. Wait. The lobby? I meant to go to the lower parking level. I turned around to get back on the elevator, but the door had already closed.

  I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder at the same time I heard Tackle’s voice say, “Let me get that for you.”

  I spun around, tightening my grasp on my bag. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was hoping to take you out for breakfast, but thought I’d either missed you or you were still asleep.”

  “Breakfast? No. Last night we agreed—”

  “To remain friends.”

  I pulled him over to the side when one of the other tenants approached the elevator.

  “To remain what we were. You’re my older brother’s best friend. That’s it. We weren’t friends, Tackle.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. This is
what you said, ‘Let’s walk away while we can still be friends.’ Those were your exact words.”

  “You knew what I meant.”

  “Sure did. So here I am, inviting my friend out for breakfast.”

  I stared up into his big green eyes, wondering if there would ever come a time I could say no to this man and actually mean it.

  “Come on, you know you’re hungry.”

  I was, actually. More, I was beginning to feel a little nauseous. If I didn’t eat something soon, it might get worse. “Breakfast, and then I have to head home.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll be happy to drop you off.”

  “What? No. Tackle, you can’t drop me off.”

  “Of course I can.”

  I folded my arms. “And what do you expect me to tell my mother when she sees your car?”

  “Tell her I was in the city anyway, so I offered you a ride.”

  “That makes zero sense. I have my car and—”

  “Can we eat first and argue about how you’re going to get home later?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

  Tackle took the bag off my left shoulder, slung it over his, and then held my hand with his right one.

  “Friends don’t hold hands.”

  “Oh yes, they do. Haven’t you ever seen Halo and me? We hold hands all the time.”

  “You’re such a weirdo.”

  “You love that about me.”

  That was almost enough for me to wrench my hand from his. Yes, I did love that about him. Just like I loved everything about Tackle Sorenson.

  He dropped my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t freak out, peanut. I was just joking. Friends don’t love friends, right?” Before I could answer, he winked. “Or do they?”

  After breakfast, he talked me into going shopping with him. “While I survived the plane crash, the clothes I took with me to South America didn’t. I need to replenish.”

  We’d just stepped out of the department store’s revolving door when I heard Tackle’s cell vibrate. Like every other time he received a call when he was with me, he ignored it. On one hand, I could look at it as him being polite. On the other, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was hiding. Every time I insisted he just answer the damn thing, he ignored me, so I didn’t bother repeating it. Until, less than five minutes later, while we were in the men’s department, looking at shirts, it happened again.

  “That’s it,” I said, setting the button-down shirt I had in my hand back on the display table. “I’m going home.”

  When I walked away, he grabbed my arm. “Wait. Why?”

  “You don’t even take it out to see who it is, which to me, means you don’t want to risk my seeing it either.”

  “I don’t check, because I know it isn’t important.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Tell me you don’t have certain ringtones for certain people or types of calls.”

  “I do, but your phone didn’t ring; it just vibrated.”

  Tackle sighed and pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Look,” he said. “Unknown number.”

  “But you didn’t know that.” I kept walking to the store’s exit.

  “Tell you what, if I get another call, I won’t ignore it.”

  I shook my head. “We shouldn’t be doing this anyway.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Hanging out. I made myself clear last night, Tackle.”

  The playful look on his face turned into a scowl, or was it a pout? He put his hand on my shoulder, then slid it to the back of my neck. When he brought his forehead to mine, I almost wrapped my arms around his waist. “Sloane,” he murmured right before brushing my lips with his. “Please.”

  I pulled back. “Please, what? What are you asking of me?”

  “I don’t know exactly. All I do know is that I can’t stay away from you. Whatever it takes, I’ll do. Just please don’t kick me out of your life.”

  Even when he was being a jerk, I couldn’t say no to him. When he was sweet—vulnerable—like he was now? There was no way I could deny him. I sighed. “This is a bad idea.”

  When his look changed to hopeful, I wanted to slug him. “Do you always get your way?”

  He shook his head. “If I did, I would’ve woken up this morning with you naked beside me.”

  “Tackle—”

  He held up one hand. “Honesty, remember? I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to kiss you right now, but I will resist since I know it isn’t what you want.”

  I brought my lips to his in a chaste kiss and then twisted out of his hold. “Come on, let’s finish shopping. I’m getting hungry again.”

  12

  Tackle

  After we ate a late lunch and went back to Sloane’s friend’s apartment, she decided to take a nap before driving to her parents’ house.

  “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she mumbled when I lay down on the bed, beside her. She yawned and rolled to her side. “You don’t have to stay.”

  I went out to the living room and grabbed a throw I’d noticed on the back of the sofa. In the short time it took me to do that, Sloane had fallen fast asleep. I covered her with the blanket and lay back down beside her.

  As much as I wanted to touch her, caress her cheek, I didn’t want to wake her, so I kept my hands to myself and thought about our conversation from earlier in the day. “What are you asking of me?” she’d said. I didn’t have a good answer then or now. I knew this, though. If Sloane wasn’t Halo’s younger sister, I’d want to date her, see where that took us. At the very least, spend a few months enjoying each other’s company and bodies.

  Would the fact that her brother was my best friend really preclude that? He might be uncomfortable at first, maybe even angry, but he’d get over it.

  It was what happened after the relationship ended that worried me more. If I hurt Sloane, if she wanted more than I was prepared to give, it might end more than my friendship with Halo. What about our parents? They’d become good friends too. Was spending time with her worth the risk? If we could stay friends, it would be.

  I tucked my arms under my head and stared up at the ceiling, jolting when Sloane turned and snuggled her body close to mine. She murmured words I couldn’t understand, but she looked content, peaceful. I put my arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

  There wasn’t another woman I wanted to be with, liked more, was attracted to in the same way I was to Sloane.

  She’d also asked if I always got my way. Most of the time, yes. I also worked hard to build the life I wanted for myself. When I closed my eyes, I could envision us together. That should scare the shit out of me. Instead, it filled me with an inexplicable warmth.

  “What time is it?” Sloane asked, rolling to her back and stretching her arms above her head.

  I had no idea except that the sun was setting.

  She pulled out her phone. “I can’t believe I slept for three hours.” She turned her head toward me. “You didn’t have to stay.”

  “I fell asleep too.” I stretched like she had and then rubbed my belly. “I can’t believe I’m hungry again.”

  Sloane laughed. “I’m so glad you said it first.”

  “What sounds good? We could order takeout, or I could run to the market and make us something.”

  When she didn’t answer, I turned my body toward hers.

  “I’ve decided you’re a figment of my imagination.”

  I laughed like she had. “Why?”

  “First, Tackle Sorenson is lying next to me, on a bed no less. Second, you just offered to cook food for me.”

  “Neither should surprise you that much.”

  “No?” She tapped her cheek with her finger. “If a year ago, someone had predicted this was where you’d be on a Saturday night, would you have believed them?”

  “Probably not.”

  She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “What are we doing?” she groaned.

  “Trying
to decide what to have for dinner.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “How about this? Instead of talking so much about why we’re spending time together, why don’t we just enjoy it?”

  “My gut is telling me that isn’t a good idea, but it’s also telling me I’m hungry.”

  “Takeout would be faster.”

  “I’m glad you said that first too.”

  We settled on Chinese since there was a place Sloane liked just down the street. Rather than using plates, we passed the containers back and forth, digging in with chopsticks.

  “Don’t bogart the shrimp, Tackle,” she said, grabbing the container from my hand.

  “Bogart? You’re as bad as Halo.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said her brother’s name. The smile left her face, and she set the container on the table.

  “Don’t,” I muttered, knowing that no matter what I said, she was about to go down the “we shouldn’t be doing this” road again.

  She drummed her chopsticks on the table. “So what’s the deal with Ghafor?” she asked instead.

  “Whoa. That was out of left field.”

  “I know, right? I’ve been wondering about him, though. He seems to have fallen off the radar.”

  “The good news is, the agency has him under their thumb. The bad news is, guys like him don’t stay there long.”

  In mid-December, the mission that took Halo and me to Columbia had culminated with the assassination of the Russian-backed then-president of the country, Petro Santos, and the reinstatement of the US-backed former president, Francisco Marquez.

  Abdul Ghafor, leader of the Islamic State, had played an integral role in making that happen by way of the CIA. Even though the Middle East was my area of expertise, knowing what he got in exchange was above my pay grade.

  As I’d said, a man as evil and ruthless as Ghafor certainly wouldn’t remain loyal to the United States any longer than it served his organization’s—or his—purposes.

  “Where is he? Do you know?” Sloane asked.