by April Hunt
“That’s asinine.” Isa was pissed on her behalf.
“That’s a woman’s life in uniform. But it’s getting better…gradually.”
Isa couldn’t imagine struggling with that kind of animosity every day. In the lab, she didn’t have to constantly prove herself, at least to no one but herself. Maybe that’s the real reason why she stayed away from home for so long.
“You have celebrities here in Golden Plains?” Jaz nodded toward the other side of the barn, where a growing crowd at least three women deep huddled in pack formation just off the dance floor.
But it wasn’t an actor or even a country singer that had stolen their attention.
Tank’s familiar shaggy blond head stood in the center of the crowd, and right next to him was Roman. Dressed in black jeans and a dark Western shirt, his hair loose around his jaw, Roman looked the perfect combination of rugged cowboy and bad-boy rocker. No wonder he had a fan club. Isa was half tempted to hip-check all those other women away and take the president position for herself, and judging by the way Jaz studied Tank, she felt the same way about him.
As if sensing he was being watched, Roman looked up. His gaze collided with hers before going on a slow stroll over her body, and what first started as a butterfly feeling in her stomach turned into pterodactyls the longer he stared.
Jaz chuckled. “Guess Tank isn’t the only one who’s about to lose his tongue.”
Isa wasn’t sure if she meant her or Roman. It could go either way, because while the desire in Roman’s gaze was impossible to miss, she had to think hers was the same.
“Isa!”
Without thinking, she turned toward the sound of her name and immediately turned to stone. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Her head spun, tilting her world on its axis as she laid eyes on her fiancé in the first time in years.
Oliver, his dark hair cut short and styled away from his face, strode in her direction like a man on a mission. Like the other men in attendance, he wore jeans and a Western shirt, though his shoulders didn’t look quite as broad as she remembered.
And then he smiled, making her heart stumble.
Isa blinked twice before she climbed out from the hallucination…
Olly had had a scar on his chin that dimpled when he grinned. This man didn’t have the scar, or the biceps. This man was what Olly would’ve looked like if he hadn’t joined the SEALs.
This man was Michael. His twin. And one of the only people who blamed her for his brother’s death more than she did.
More than a few sets of curious onlookers gawked as if waiting for a repeat performance of the show at Olly’s funeral. Her head spun, practically hearing the accusations ringing in her head all over again, and they took her breath away now as easily as they had back then.
Jaz stepped close, her dark eyes narrowed in on Michael. “Do I need to intervene? I have a gun holster strapped to my thigh.”
“No. He’s a…friend.”
“Most people don’t look for exit routes when their friends show up.”
She wasn’t wrong. “You don’t have to stick around for this, Jaz. This isn’t bound to be a pleasant conversation.”
Jaz crossed her arms over her chest. “All the more reason for me to stay.”
Knowing there was no changing her mind, Isa waited for the inevitable blame to fly her way. Olly joined the Navy because of her. Olly had requested the extension at the forward operating base because of her. He died on that last op because she’d broken his heart.
All Michael’s accusations hadn’t been anything she didn’t blame herself for, too.
Michael’s light green eyes, so much like his brother’s, flickered over to Jaz. Before Olly’s death, he would’ve greeted her with a joke and a hug that spun her in circles until she got dizzy.
This Michael kept his hands tucked deep in his pockets and stopped three feet away. “You’re here. I’m surprised Carlos didn’t announce your trip home in the Gazette.”
Isa cleared her suddenly dry throat. “I didn’t give him a lot of advance notice. It was just one of those times when the stars aligned. It won’t be a long visit, though. I’ll be out of your hair before you realize it.”
Something flickered over Michael’s face, but it was there and gone before she registered what it was.
“I guess I deserved that.” He nodded. “And a hell of a lot more. I know this is a few years too late, and in no way makes up for anything I said, but I am sorry, Isa. I don’t really have an excuse except that I’m an asshole, and during Olly’s funeral I was a drunk asshole.”
Isa wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. “We both did things we regret back then.”
“You shouldn’t regret being honest with him.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Isa held tightly on the whir of emotions rising quicker by the second. Her last conversation with Olly was one she hadn’t told anyone about, but it was obvious that Oliver had shared it with his brother. And it made sense. The two of them had been halves of the same coin, so much more alike than just their looks.
Michael took her silence as the end of their talk. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m an ass. I’m sorry. And you don’t have to avoid Golden Plains because of me. Your grandpa misses you, and neither one of you should have to suffer because of something I did.”
Isa’s skin vibrated, alerting her to Roman’s presence moments before he stepped between them and shoved Michael into the nearest support pole. “And what exactly did you do to her?”
“Roman, no!” Isa cried.
“Shit,” Jaz cursed.
Roman stepped closer to Michael, his eyes hard. “You going to answer me?”
Michael, near the same height but with nowhere near the muscle mass, stood upright and didn’t so much as blink. “I don’t think that has anything to do with you.”
“If it has something to do with Isabel, then it has something to do with me.”
“Is that right?” Michael asked. He looked at Isa over Roman’s shoulder. “Is that how it is now, Izzy? You never let anyone talk for you before. Hell, I remember you ripping Olly a new one when he thought about trying.”
“It’s not like that,” Isabel stated before glaring at Roman. “And you need to take a step back. Literally and figuratively.”
They’d started to draw attention despite the fact that the band had worked themselves up into a full swing. Stares burned into the back if Isa’s head from all directions. More fuel for the gossip mill. She couldn’t stand there and give them any more.
“You know what? Have at it. But don’t expect me to stand here and watch.” Without a word, she left the madness with no real destination in mind.
Somewhere behind her, she heard Roman call out her name, but she ignored it and kept walking, realizing after a minute or two that she was being tailed. “I really just want to be alone right now, Jaz.”
“Totally get it, Dr. Sexy, but now isn’t the time to go stalking off.” King stepped out from the shadows.
“I either walk off now, or I wrap my hands around your friend’s neck. Which will it be?”
“Neck-ringing or ass-kicking, Ro could probably use one of each.”
“Glad we’re in agreement.”
“Just do me a favor. Don’t cut him out of the running just yet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isa lied, but she saw King’s meaning all over his face.
“Shit happens to the best of us, and Roman’s had to deal with more than his fair share. He is the way he is because he cares too much and doesn’t know how to channel it in the right way.” There was no sign of King’s usual playful tone. “But I think you can help him channel it, Isa. Or at the very least, show him that he’s capable of doing it himself. Just…don’t give up on him entirely.”
As she digested his words, he grinned, nodding to the far barn closed off to guests. “If you want somewhere to stalk away to, may I suggest over there? Far enough away to stew, close enou
gh to be heard.”
She glanced toward the barn her grandfather used to rehab the newest sanctuary residents. “You going to tell him where I am if I go there?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t need to tell Roman Steele shit when it comes to you. He’ll find you regardless.”
* * *
Roman’s hand twitched with the urge to whip out the weapon on the holster beneath his shirt, but he kept cool—barely. If this guy had been a true threat, Jaz would’ve dealt with him before he had even gotten there. Still, Isabel’s body language had indicated this had been far from a friendly interaction.
“Ro.” Jaz’s voice barely drilled through the red haze of his anger. “Roman!”
“What?” he growled, head spinning to face the sniper’s don’t-fuck-with-me look.
She gestured to the curious sets of eyes watching them. He grudgingly stepped away from the asshole in front of him. “Don’t expect me to apologize.”
The blond man chuckled, fixing the front of his shirt. “Didn’t even cross my mind. And trust me, I get it. But can I give you a little advice? Isa doesn’t do protective very well. First, because she doesn’t need it. And second, because she feels like it’s her job to do the saving.”
Then they had that in common.
Roman had the sudden urge to see her. He turned, stopping when Michael Park grabbed his arm.
“You want Isa to be happy,” Park stated. It wasn’t a question.
“I do.”
“Then make sure she doesn’t sacrifice her happiness for someone else’s…because that, my friend, is Isabel Santiago’s MO.”
Roman didn’t know what to say to that as he walked off, circling the crowded dance floor before realizing Isabel wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He found Jaz by the exit, leaning against the wall.
“She’s in there.” She nudged her chin to the darkened barn next door. “But before you go over there, you need to take your head out of your posterior and not be you.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Growly and demanding.”
“I don’t growl,” Roman growled. Fuck.
She pointed at him. “See. Growly. And it doesn’t take someone with a genius IQ to realize something changed. One moment a girl could get third-degree burns standing next to the two of you, and now I’m afraid frostbite’s about to set in. I’m placing my bet that you’re the reason for the climate change.”
“If I am, it’s for the best.”
“Yeah?” Jaz stared him dead in the eye. “Whose? Hers or yours?”
Roman couldn’t blame Jaz for her protectiveness over Isa. She seemed to draw that out in everyone on the team. “Help Tank and King keep an eye on Carlos. I got Isa.”
Roman only heard one soft neigh as stepped into the barn.
“You’re missing one hell of a party, Doc.” Roman looked up toward the hayloft, knowing she was there without seeing her.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need some time alone. Please.”
He almost left, but then Jaz’s words hit like a freight train. Don’t be you.
Don’t be the guy who avoided being alone with her because it scared him to hell how much he craved it. Don’t kiss her one moment and avoid her the next. Don’t expect her to talk about her feelings while he bottled his up in an airtight vault.
A muffled sniffle took his decision out of his hands.
“Fuckin’ A,” Roman muttered to himself as he braced one boot on the ladder and hoisted himself up one rung at a time. His prosthetic buckled once, but he pushed on until he breached the top.
Isa sat in the open hayloft door, her back turned toward him. Hearing him, she brushed her hands against her face. “When was the last time you had a physical? Because I think there’s something wrong with your ears.”
“My ears are fine. It’s my judgment I seem to be having a problem with.”
“Ah. Well. Then welcome to the second-guess yourself party.” Isa scooted over and made room for him. “Have a seat and grab a party favor.”
He dropped his legs off the edge, his thigh touching hers. “This is quite the view.”
“It was my grandmother’s favorite spot. She always claimed she could see straight to the Gulf of Mexico…a gross exaggeration, I know, but as a little girl I ate it up and wished my eyesight was as good as hers.”
“Your grandmother sounds like a great woman.”
“She was the best. She and my grandfather were made for one another.” A wistful smile fluttered onto Isa’s face.
“Like you and Oliver?” Her fiancé’s name slipped off Roman’s lips like sandpaper before he could stop himself.
He’d never thought himself capable of being jealous of anyone, much less of someone who wasn’t alive. The past shouldn’t dictate the future, but it did. Hell, he’d let his own history define every relationship choice he’d made since.
“Forget I asked,” Roman added, his voice gruff with unnamed emotion. “It’s none of my business.”
“I loved him,” Isa answered softly. Her voice wavered as she stared out into the starry night, tears welling in her eyes as she refused to meet his gaze. “He was the dutiful son. The encouraging brother. The thoughtful boyfriend. He was perfect in every way imaginable except one.”
Roman shifted his gaze to her face. “Which way was that?”
“He wasn’t perfect for me.” His face must have showed his surprise, because she smiled wanly, biting her lip as she sifted through her thoughts. “We’d just gotten the news that it wouldn’t be much longer until my grandmother passed when Olly proposed…right in front of her and on bended knee. She’d had such a big smile on her face, the first one in close to a month…and I couldn’t make myself say no. I couldn’t take away what little joy she had and then…”
“Then you couldn’t take it back.”
“By that point I think I’d sufficiently talked myself into thinking that what Olly and I had was a mirror image of what my grandparents shared. And Olly knew it.” A tear slipped down Isa’s cheek, quickly followed by another. Roman ached to wipe the moisture away, but he sensed she wasn’t done…crying or talking. And he was right. “He’d called me out on it right before he went out on that last detail with his unit. He’d been distracted. Unfocused. And rightfully angry. If I had loved him as much as I should have, he might still be alive today.”
It twisted his stomach into knots hearing her blame herself for Oliver’s death. No longer able to keep his hands to himself, he gently angled her chin toward him, brushing an errant tear off her cheek in the process.
“You loved Olly the exact amount you were meant to love him. Everything else isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault. The sooner you can realize that, the sooner your past doesn’t have such a death grip on your future.”
Isa scanned his face as she whispered, “You sound like you know what that’s like.”
“Because I do,” Roman said honestly. “Only in my case, it was very much my fault.”
Opening up didn’t come naturally to him. Far from it. And especially when his story didn’t paint him in the best light. Still, the words were on the tip of his tongue, and if it had been a month ago, or hell, weeks ago, he would’ve swallowed them back down and gone about business as usual. Right now, he didn’t want to choke it back. Sharing this with Isa right now and in this moment felt right.
He just couldn’t do it while touching her.
He pulled away and forced his hands to himself. “You once told me that I was the kind of person to sacrifice myself for others, and you may have been right. To an extent. But I also risked what wasn’t mine to risk.”
Isa sat patiently while he collected his thoughts. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to. It’s just…it’s not something I’ve talked about for a really long time.”
Roman pulled his thoughts together while simultaneously fighting to keep the anger that always came with Burundi at bay. And damn, it was fucking hard. But he did it
, not wanting Isabel to think she’d been the one to conjure it.
“A few years back, King and I were selected as part of a team to be stationed at a CIA black site in Burundi, Africa. A lot of times, the government used Special Forces to run their security, used us as backup in case things went to hell in a handbasket. It was a tense assignment. Little to no reward. The area was located in a region of Africa that was in civil upheaval and had been for as long as anyone who had lived there had even been alive, but we weren’t allowed to get involved. Our only orders were to protect the base.”
Roman slid a look to Isabel and pushed through. “While I was there, I got close to one of the CIA operatives. Kat. It wasn’t anything revolutionary. We were bored, there wasn’t much in the way of selection, so we kept things easy. We had to work together, after all, and being as secluded as the base was, there was no avoiding each other if things got ugly. We were transporting ammunitions off the site to a waiting military convoy a few clicks away when I drove us straight onto a fucking minefield. The damn thing hadn’t been there twenty-four hours earlier, but those rebel cartels were notorious for setting up pop-up fields.”
Roman snorted, a small smile forming on his lips. “Kat was pissed…called me every name in the book and then some for not paying attention. And normally it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I could’ve backtracked our route easily enough and gone around…but those bastards had put their field right next to a village. They’d planted bombs where the local kids play soccer every damn day.”
Next to him, Isa sucked in a breath. “Oh my God.”
“I hopped out of the Humvee, tried flagging the kids down before they stepped onto the field, but they were too far away. Kat laid on the horn. They just looked and ignored us.” Roman blew out a breath and momentarily closed his eyes. “There was a little girl, barely four or so, with them that day. One of the older ones kicked the ball and she took off like a bat out of hell after it…right onto the field. Kat and I knew what would happen if we didn’t show the kids that it wasn’t safe to be out there…but we didn’t have anything to trigger the IEDs…except ourselves.”