Tackle (K19 Security Solutions)

by Heather Slade

  “Tackle?”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Nothing.” Halo took off on foot.

  “Don’t be an ass. Get back here. Of course, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “What’s your problem, man?”

  I rubbed my head, reminding myself I still hadn’t gotten that haircut. “Nick.”

  “You with her now?” Halo asked.

  “No.” Furthest thing from it, actually, and I planned to keep it that way. “Her husband, he’s, uh, bad news. Beat the crap outta her.”

  “Caruso?”

  “Yeah. You know anything about him?”

  “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “They were probably accurate.”

  “She still with him?”

  I shook my head. “I made arrangements for her to live in one of my dad’s rentals. On our way back from Italy, I confided in Doc about the situation and he stepped in.”

  “I’m guessing she’s at an undisclosed location?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Shit. Think the husband knows you had anything to do with her ‘disappearance’?” he asked after we were in the car on the way to his parents’ place, where I hoped Sloane had gone too.

  “I sure as hell hope not.”

  “I gotta ask, man. Why’d she come to you?”

  I shrugged. “Nick always saw me as her way out of her lousy life. Her dad was an alcoholic, was violent toward her mother. I doubt she was ever as interested in me as she was in what I could do for her. When I was offered a full ride at UVA to play football, Nick got it into her head that someday I’d play for the NFL.”

  “I remember something about that. She started spreading rumors you might, even before we graduated.”

  “When she heard I was back in town, she assumed I was taking over my dad’s business.”

  “She saw you as her meal ticket.”

  “And a way to get away from her husband.”

  “They say women go for men who are like their father. I guess she did with Caruso.”

  “Right.”

  “Who’s funding this relocation? You?”

  “Negative.” It was something Doc and I had discussed before I left California.

  “We plan to feed the feds enough for them to nab Caruso, who then might finger some more of DeLuca’s crew,” he’d told me when I asked him the same question Halo asked me.

  “Keep driving,” Halo said when I was getting close to his family’s house.

  “What’s up?” I looked in the rearview.

  “We have company.”

  “I know,” I said, parking in front of the house. “He’s with me.”

  Halo looked over his shoulder. “Who is that?”

  “New guy. His name’s Garrison Cassidy. Code name Cowboy.”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “Totally serious.”

  “What’s his cover?”

  “Construction.”

  He smiled. “Guess I’ll see him on the job site tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad we’ll be working together, Halo.”

  When he didn’t respond, I wondered if he thought I was lying.

  A week later, I was cleaning up the project we’d been working on, when I heard Halo asking the other guys if they’d seen me.

  “I’m over here,” I shouted.

  “Hey, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m having some furniture delivered to Sloane’s place in about an hour. I could use some help.”

  My eyes met Cowboy’s, who was standing behind Halo. “I wish you would’ve let me know earlier. I told my dad I’d meet him at another house he’s looking to flip.”

  “No worries,” he said, turning to walk away.

  “Hey, Halo, I can help if you need it,” Cowboy offered when I nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. I ain’t got nothin’ on except maybe havin’ a couple of beers.”

  “I can make arrangements for that when we’re done.”

  “Sorry, man,” I called after them.

  “It’s all good,” said Halo, waving behind him.

  As much as I was dying to see Sloane, I couldn’t yet. First, I had to be sure no one linked to Caruso had their sights set on me. There was no way I’d risk putting her in danger if Nick’s husband knew I was the one who arranged for her to disappear.

  Another two weeks had passed when I got a call from Razor.

  “Just got word that Caruso’s in custody.”

  “What for?”

  “It’s a long list, my friend. Racketeering, loan-sharking, tax fraud, stock manipulation, drug, and weapons possession.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “You know it. I also managed to plant the seed that he was looking to make a deal.”

  That was even better news. If anyone thought Caruso was ready to turn state’s evidence, there was no way they’d help him with anything, including fingering me for getting his wife away from him.

  “Thanks, Raze.”

  “No thanks necessary, Tackle. It’s what we do.”

  I hung up, wishing I could celebrate by paying Sloane a visit. Instead, I went looking for Halo.

  “Got time for a couple of Sammys after work?”

  “Nothin’ but time, man.”

  We went back to the grill and got there early enough that there weren’t many people in the place.

  “How’s it goin’?” I asked after watching him pound his beer and throw back a shot of Irish.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Tara?”

  “She kicked me out of her life, Tackle. Not that I didn’t deserve it. I fucked up pretty bad.”

  I’d heard the story from both him and Tara, and I had to admit I wasn’t sure she’d ever come around. She might’ve forgiven him for lying about his identity, since she’d done the same thing, but his accusing her of being in the art-forgery business with her father, who had also turned out to be innocent, was something she couldn’t get over.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “Give her time,” I responded, regretting it as soon as I did. What had I said to Sloane? I’d told her I couldn’t be that guy anymore. I couldn’t be passive, sitting around, waiting for something to happen that never would and then, after months had gone by, giving up completely. “Forget I said that.”

  Halo turned to me. “Said what? That I should give her time?”

  “Yep. She’ll never forgive you if she doesn’t know how truly sorry you are.”

  “I apologized, Tackle. It wasn’t enough.”

  “Make it enough.”

  “I wish I knew how.”

  When Halo ordered another round, I joined him, wondering why in the hell I wasn’t following my own advice. My reasons for staying away from Sloane were twofold. First for her protection. Second, though, was me waiting until I thought enough time had passed that she might give me another chance. Another chance at what? What did I want from her? Until I knew the answer, I had no business asking for anything.

  When Halo ordered his third shot, I agreed to join him only if he promised not to call Sloane to give our drunken asses a ride home.

  “Poor peanut,” he muttered. “She’s got enough of her own shit to deal with.”

  “Is she okay?” All the weeks she’d been inexplicably sick raced through my mind. I hadn’t talked to her since the doctor’s appointment she’d told me she had scheduled. What if something was seriously wrong with her?

  Halo threw the shot back. “Yeah. Sorry, Tackle. I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t talk about it.”

  I put my arm on his and waited until he turned to look at me. “If she’s ill, you have to tell me.”

  He hung his head. “She’s not. Not in the way you’re thinking.” Halo took a swig of beer. “I’ve already said too much.”

  I suddenly regretted every ounce of alcohol I’d consumed. I wanted to get in my car and race over to Sloane’s place and dem
and she tell me what was wrong. And I couldn’t. Not shit-faced.

  “Want another?” Halo asked, pointing at my beer.

  “I think we’ve both had enough.”

  “What made you ask me to come out with you tonight?”

  The bar had gotten significantly more crowded than it was when we arrived. “I’ll tell you on our way out.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Where should we drop you?” Halo asked once we were in the cab.

  “Same place you’re going.”

  He rested his head against the back of the seat. “Sure, I guess you can crash there.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, man, but I meant next door. I’m going to be living there while I finish fixing it up.”

  He raised his head. “Seriously? That’s awesome. We can hang out all the time. I can even help you with it.”

  “That would be great,” I muttered, wishing I’d asked him to take me to my parents’ place instead. How was I going to find time to see Sloane when I was with Halo twenty-four seven, either at work or at the duplex?

  19

  Sloane

  Three months later

  “But I miss you, mija,” said my mother when I told her I didn’t plan to come for Sunday dinner.

  “I miss you too, but I can’t come for dinner every week. I have my own place now.”

  “What about your laundry?”

  “I have a washer and a dryer too.” Thanks to Knox. In fact, my entire apartment was furnished thanks to my brother, who I had to admit had done a pretty good job of picking out things I liked.

  He must’ve been paying attention when we toured all those apartments before we decided we shouldn’t live together. The fun we’d had either laughing at or admiring the decorating tastes of whoever outfitted the furnished places, resulted in him knowing I would never want a flower-print sofa and, as far as I was concerned, sectionals should’ve gone the way of waterbeds years ago.

  I had to admit I liked the deep-purple leather sofa and love seat along with the two blue leather recliners he’d picked out far more than I thought I would on the day they arrived. In fact, I’d asked him if the delivery people got the wrong address and if they were supposed to be for his place. Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else in my living room.

  He hadn’t stopped there. I’d fallen in love with the other furniture he chose for the house too. At first, I told him he was crazy to fill up every room in my half of the duplex except one.

  “We’ll wait on the smaller bedroom,” he’d said. “You’ll want to pick stuff out based on the sex, right?”

  “You know, bro, you’re going to make a damn good husband to someone one day,” I’d told him, only to realize that was the exact wrong thing to say when his face immediately sank.

  “I think that boat has sailed, peanut.”

  “I’m sorry, Knox. I wish I had any advice, but I don’t.”

  He’d left shortly after that, making me feel like the worst sister in the world.

  A few days later, after convincing my mother that I wouldn’t be coming over the next day, no matter how many of my favorite foods she promised to make, I went into the kitchen to make a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies.

  When a knock at the door startled me, I dropped the glass bowl I’d taken out of the cupboard. Thankfully, it was heavy enough that it didn’t break, although it looked like there were a couple of chips along the edge.

  “Hey, Sloane? It’s me,” I heard Tackle say, knocking a second time.

  I set the bowl on the counter, glanced at the mirror to make sure my oversized sweatshirt hid the baby bump that had recently appeared but seemed to be growing daily, and slowly walked toward the front entrance. I looked around the living room to see if there were pregnancy or baby books visible. When I didn’t see any, I opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to come by and see if you needed anything.”

  “Nope. I’m good.” I stood in the doorway, letting him know I had no intention of inviting him in.

  “Sloane, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Can I please come in?”

  Those damn green eyes did me in every time. “For a few minutes,” I said after stepping aside.

  “What did I interrupt?” he asked, eyeing the things I’d gotten out to make the cookies.

  “Girl’s night in.”

  “Oh. Is someone else here?”

  “No. Just me. I meant I was staying in. Cookies and a movie.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked with an overly concerned edge to his voice.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I haven’t talked to you in so long. Did you figure out what was wrong over the holidays?”

  “It was nothing,” I said, putting the butter in the microwave to soften.

  “I’m glad.” He looked around. “I like what you’ve done to the place.”

  “Most of it was Knox’s doing, but thanks. I never expected to like living on my own as much as I do.”

  “You don’t get lonely?”

  “Not really, and if I did, my mother would be more than happy to keep me entertained.”

  He laughed, but then his expression changed. I followed his line of sight to where today’s mail sat on the counter. There, right on top, sat the Mama & Baby magazine I’d recently subscribed to. Before I could get to it, Tackle picked it up and turned it over, most likely to confirm I was the subscriber.

  When he set it back down, I hated the way his eyes trailed down my body.

  “You need to leave.”

  He made no move to. In fact, he pulled a chair away from the dining room table, turned it around, and sat down so he was facing me. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “No,” I said, turning my back to him. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d spent endless hours concocting the story I’d tell Tackle when the day came he found out I was pregnant. With him sitting a few feet from me, I couldn’t remember any of it.

  “Sloane,” he whispered, walking over and resting his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  “It isn’t yours,” I said as tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said without raising his voice. Before I could respond, he spun me around and pulled me into his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You don’t want kids,” I said so softly I wasn’t sure he could even hear me.

  He pulled back and looked into my tear-filled eyes. “This is why you called Knox in Italy and asked him to come home.” He cradled my head, still looking into my eyes. “He doesn’t know I’m the father.”

  “No.”

  Tackle took a step back and pulled me with him over to the sofa. He cuddled me close to him when we both sat.

  “I want you to know I don’t expect—”

  “Shh.” He put his fingertip on my lips. “Give me a minute. Okay?” Those damn green eyes stared into mine, imploring again.

  “Okay.”

  “Your brother went to New York City to see Tara.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s why I came over.”

  “I figured that’s why.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t keep it from them much longer.”

  Tackle grasped my chin with his hand and brought his lips to mine. He kissed me, gently at first, then demanding, then gently again. “Every minute of every day since I last saw you, I’ve thought about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

  I shook free of his grasp and turned my head away from him.

  “I need to tell you something, and for me to do that, I need you to look at me.”

  “No,” I cried.

  “Sloane, please.” He slid off the sofa and knelt in front of me. “Please,” he repeated. “I want this baby. I want you. I need you to tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

  I looked into his eyes. “I don’t.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll tell your parent
s and mine. We’ll go to them together. Tell them we’re getting married—”

  “Have you lost your mind?” I shrieked, wrenching away from him. I stood and stalked into the kitchen. “No! God! I’m not marrying you, Tackle.”

  “But—”

  When he stood in front of me, I shoved him away. “Get out! Just leave.”

  He came right back and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not leaving. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “You’re wrong. We have nothing to talk about.” I stalked down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind me. It wouldn’t make him leave, but he also wouldn’t break the door down.

  I lay on the bed and waited, knowing that at any second, he’d beg me to let him in, telling me we needed to talk. Instead, I heard the front door close. After a few minutes of silence, I crept from the bedroom and out to the living room. It was empty. I walked over, threw the deadbolt, turned off the lights, and peered out the window. Sure enough, his car was no longer in the driveway. Racing into the kitchen, I grabbed my phone when something occurred to me.

  Punching in his name, I hurriedly unblocked his number and called him.

  “You better not be on your way to my parents’ house,” I said when I heard him answer.

  “Wow,” he muttered. “After all this time hiding the fact that you were pregnant, refusing to see me or talk to me, blocking my number, that’s what you wanted to say?”

  “It isn’t your place to tell them. I’ll tell—”

  “I would never do that, Sloane.”

  20

  Tackle

  I ended the call, tossed the phone on the passenger seat, pulled off on a side street, parked, and rested my head on the steering wheel.

  Thoughts raced through my head faster than I could process them. That’s what she thought of me? That when she refused to marry me, I’d rush over to her parents’ house and tell them to force her to?

  Why didn’t she want to marry me? She was pregnant with my baby. Why the fuck hadn’t she told me? Why had she kept it from me? Was I really that bad of a guy? What had I ever done to make her think I was?