You're It

by Shari J. Ryan

  “Kiss me.”

  “Kiss you?” I sound exasperated. I didn’t mean it to sound like a disturbing thought, but right this second; I’m not exactly in the mood for affection.

  “Kiss me. My lips know how to relax you.”

  Why am I smiling? Why does this man always make every little thing seem so small when our problems are larger than life? There’s no way I can relax. I can’t. He doesn’t tell me again, though. His hands are clamped around my waist and his lips crash into mine, his tongue parts my mouth and his hands grip me tighter. He’s stealing my breath, my pain, and my weakness. His hands slowly travel up to my face, where his long fingers curl around my ears. The world fades around me when he kisses me like this. He’s mastered the art of making me relax and forget everything else. When our mouths part, his arms loop around my neck and his eyes focus on mine. I can feel the steady beat of his heart against the quick pace of mine. He’s not worried. I can trust that.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”

  “See,” he grins. “Works every time.”

  “It does, but Tyler is alone in the house. We need to go check on her.”

  He closes his eyes and sighs.

  “Why am I attracted to crazy things?” He takes me by the hand and leads me into the house, through the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom. The door is cracked open slightly, enough for us to see her dark curls splayed over the comforter, and her stuffed Pooh bear clutched under her arm. The slight sound of breaths soothes my nerves, and I take a step back, knowing that for the moment everything is okay.

  Tango leaves my side to arm the house and lock the doors. I follow him into the bedroom, finding him positioning his knife on his nightstand. “The whole plan. Please,” I say.

  He drops down onto the bed and bows his chin to his chest with a sigh. “Call Sasha in the morning. Tyler can go stay with her and Landon until we get this sorted out.” Sasha lives out in the boondocks about an hour from here. Ever since Krissy was murdered four years ago, Sasha has kept herself secluded from populated areas. She’s my best friend and there was a long period of time where we were inseparable, but I knew someone would eventually go through her to get to me and do to her, exactly what they did to Krissy. Back then, everyone was looking for Dad, and no one who I associated with was safe because of it. As of an hour ago, I didn’t think there was any more danger since everything was finally sorted out and Dad wasn’t on the run anymore, but even still, Sasha feels better living where no one can easily find her. I can’t say I blame her. Regardless of thinking I’ve been safe, I don’t go anywhere without checking over my shoulder every few seconds. Messes can only be cleaned up so well. There’s always some debris left behind, no matter how minuscule it might be.

  “We’ll rent a car to keep us covered, and we’ll leave tomorrow night. It’ll be an easy transfer.” His confidence is reassuring, but the thought of leaving Tyler right now, while someone wants to get their hands on her, makes me want to puke up all three meals I’ve eaten today. I know Sasha will keep her safe, but my gut hurts. It’s screaming at me.

  “Then what?”

  “We wait somewhere far away from where Tyler is,” he states simply.

  “Wait for what?”

  “They’ll find us, trust me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  TANGO

  THE PLAN IS TO STAY CALM and to keep her calm. That seems to always be my plan. It’s not like I didn’t know who I was getting involved with four years ago. This girl makes me crazy in every wonderful way she could, but I’ve learned over the years that if I can keep a poker face, so can she. I’m freaking the fuck out right now. I want to go postal on these assholes, but my little fireball would get there first, so the plan is to play it cool.

  Cali’s sleeping. I should be sleeping too, but I’m cleaning my pistol and loading it with ammo. My knife is sharpened and I guess this is just the way it has to be. Maybe I’m overreacting. I hope I am. But if I’m not, hell will break loose, and I don’t care if I have to kill however many of them there are. I guess most of these assholes are still overseas, but I who knows what I’m up against. When they were desperate to find Eli, then me, they pulled out all the stops. There were about six or seven of them over here ready to attack and fight for what they were trying to take back.

  “Tango.” Her voice is soft and gravelly. “You don’t have to hide.”

  She drops down onto the couch, sliding her bare legs around either side of me. I feel her cheek press up against my naked back, and the warmth. Her warmth gives me what I hope I gave her earlier—a reason to relax. “You know I’ve got a pistol in my hands, right.”

  Her hand slides down my abdomen and down into my shorts. “So do I,” she whispers into my ear.

  I want to tell her there’s too much on my mind, but I can’t remember a damn thing with her hand doing what it’s doing. This isn’t like her. When she’s worried, she shuts down, closes everything out and plots her demise.

  “I’m scared,” she says softly against my neck. I place my pistol down gently on the coffee table and pull her onto my lap, removing her hand from where I don’t want to remove it. But she’s not okay right now.

  I take her face in my hands and look her in the eyes. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s nothing we aren’t used to.”

  “It was different when it was just you and me. I looked at life a little differently back then, but now, it’s like we have something to fight for—someone who depends on us wholly. We can’t let her down.”

  “We won’t. We’ve got this,” I tell her.

  I lean back into the couch, holding Cali firmly within my arms. Her heavy breaths steady after a few seconds and I let sleep take me for the few hours I’ll allow it.

  When the hint of sun teases the blinds, I slip out from below her and continue preparing. I need to get everything ready before Tyler wakes up and starts asking me questions. Before Cali begins to stir on the couch, I have our bags packed and staged at the door. Everything is ready and now a pit is starting to form in my stomach again. I question my plan of leaving Tyler with Sasha and Landon. They’re technically her godparents, so I should feel like I can trust them with her life, but neither Cali nor I trust anyone with that.

  Cali peels herself off the couch, letting one leg dangle from the side. “I definitely didn’t mean to sleep on the couch last night.”

  “We’ve slept in worse,” I chuckle.

  “Touché.” She stands up and combs her fingers through her hair, letting my shirt, which she’s stolen, creep up above the new tattoo she got on her thigh—Tyler’s initials—another quick reminder of what’s at stake. She moves past me and into the kitchen, where she starts doing her morning ritual of tearing all of the pots and pans out of the cabinet until she finds the small frying pan. The sound is usually an alarm clock to Tyler, and now that she’s in a big girl bed, it’s her signal to wake up and come down to the kitchen.

  “Mommy?” I hear in a raspy half-awake voice. “Are my eggs ready?” Every morning…eggs. That’s all this little girl eats.

  “Almost, baby girl.” Cali hustles around the kitchen, preparing the one meal she knows how to cook well. I didn’t marry this girl for her cooking skills, that’s for sure. I scoop up Tyler in my arms and drop her on my lap, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Why are there bags by the door? Are we going to Grandma and Grandpa’s?” We go to Cali’s parents’ house every Friday night for dinner, but we don’t stay over there, so I’m not sure why she’d think we were this time…maybe because we don’t go anywhere else. I still have to be careful with my nonexistence in this world. If I were to run into anyone who thought I was supposed to be dead, it might not end well. Again.

  “Actually, you’re going to stay with your Aunt Sasha and Uncle Landon tonight.” I try my hardest to sound upbeat about it. She turns to look at me, her big blue eyes studying mine, trying to read everything going on in my head.

  “What about you and Mommy?” she
asks, her little eyebrows furrowing together.

  “Mommy and Daddy are going away just for the night.” God, I hope it’s just for a night. Those fuckers better not make me go looking for them either.

  “Oh,” she says, exaggerating a sigh. “Okay, I guess.” She turns back around, facing the kitchen. “Mommy? Eggs?”

  “Done!” Cali shouts, exasperated.

  “Yay!” Tyler squeals as she jumps down from my legs. “Eggs, eggs, eggs. My favorite.” Tyler sits down at the kitchen table and slugs some of her orange juice while kicking her feet with excitement. This is breaking my unbreakable heart.

  Cali throws the pan into the sink and meets me back on the couch. “I have to go call Sasha.”

  “Tell her we’re going out of town for the night because our anniversary was last week.”

  “I got it.” I watch her fidget for a minute, looking up toward the ceiling and nodding her head. “You think she knows how to protect her if—”

  “Tyler is safe there, Cal.”

  “You’re right,” she sighs. “What am I saying? Sasha’s the only trustworthy person in my life.” She leans over and places a kiss on my temple and stands up.

  “Um? The only trustworthy person in your life?” I ask, slapping her ass.

  She gives me a quick wink before heading off down the hall. She can never just throw me a damn bone…always making me work for it.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yeah, princess?”

  “Who’s going to find us?” she asks, her feet still kicking under her seat, her eyes settled on mine, making it real hard to lie to her.

  “Who are you talking about?” I play dumb, trying to remember what she could have heard. She was sleeping when were talking about this last night.

  “I heard you tell Mommy last night that you’re going to wait for them to find us. Who’s going to find us?”

  “I was just talking about Grandma and Grandpa, baby. Nothing to worry about.” I grab my phone from the coffee table and lean back into the cushion, debating. Explaining I’m not dead is going to be hard, but I need some kind of backup here just in case these assholes multiply again.

  “Who are you calling, Daddy?”

  “Tyler, eat your eggs. Don’t worry about it.” Twenty questions every minute of the day. Takes after her momma, that’s for sure.

  I press the button, reluctant, skittish. When I hear his familiar voice, the growing pit in my stomach threatens to burst.

  “Hello?” he says again.

  “Jags?” My voice breaks halfway through his name.

  Silence.

  “I knew it. You motherfucker. Something must be hella wrong if you’re calling from the dead.”

  “Yeah, I’m not dead,” I say.

  “No shit, man,” he whoops into the phone. “The dancing Tango fool is alive.”

  I snort, before letting out a quiet sigh. “Dude, I’ve got an issue and you’re the only person I know I can trust to help.”

  More silence. I know this is a hard one to take in. He thought I was dead for the past four years.

  “Tango. Tango. Tango,” his voice is quiet. “I just need a sec to digest this.” Now he sounds choked up. Jags has never let a smile leave his face. Forget about emotions, I was sure the guy had a broken circuit in his head for that kind of shit.

  “Take all the time you need,” I breathe.

  “First, fuck you, you fucking twat. You let me think you were dead for the past, I dunno, four years.”

  “I could get put away for life if anyone found out differently. It’s nothing personal.”

  “My ass, it’s not fucking personal. We were brothers, man. Brothers don’t keep shit like this from each other.”

  I wait for him to say something else besides another form of a “fuck you.”

  I wait for at least another minute.

  “Anyway, that’s your ass chewing. What do you need? You know I’ll help you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CALI

  I’M CLUTCHING THE PHONE in my hand, my head is buried between my knees and I’m rocking back and forth on the bed. My heart feels like it’s in my throat and my chest is heavy. I wanted to be done with this part of my life. I wanted to leave it behind. Besides Tango going missing last year for a week, everything has felt, dare I say, normal for the past few years. I needed normal after never experiencing it. I don’t know if I have the strength needed to continue fighting. Tyler has made me weak—not physically, but mentally. She’s made me into a pile of mush. I was never the woman who looked at a cooing baby and went ga-ga over it. I was never the woman who looked at a blooming flower and stopped to smell it or acknowledge the beauty. I am now. Now I sit on Pinterest, learning how to make cute little girl hair bows. I don’t know this person I’ve become, but I’ve gone along with it because it felt surprisingly right.

  This, knowing I have to go fight to keep my little girl safe, doesn’t feel right at all. This isn’t supposed to happen.

  Sasha’s excited to spend some time with Tyler, but probably because I didn’t tell her the real reason why we were leaving her with them. If only Tango and I were really going away for a weekend to celebrate our anniversary—that would be so unlike us—doing something normal.

  I hear Tyler asking Tango a million questions. She’s always been very attuned to trouble. Must be in her genetics. No matter what he tells her our reason is for leaving her today, she’ll give me that look a three-year-old shouldn’t have—the look of distrust.

  Before I found out I was pregnant with Tyler, I swore I was never going to procreate and put someone so innocent through what I was forced to live through. I never agreed to live the way I’ve been forced to live, and I knew putting a child on this earth would put him or her in the same situation. I’ve tried my damnedest over the past three years to keep her safe. It’s the least I can do for accidentally bringing her into this fucked up world. Plus, there’s the fact that I’ve never loved anything in this whole world as much as I love her. That came naturally, unlike any other emotion I’ve ever tried to endure. The second the nurse placed her in my arms; it was like the universe had shifted. She looked in my eyes and in that moment, I knew I had no other job but to protect her with my life. At that moment, I promised her silently I would always take care of her, no matter what that might mean. I’m proving that to her today. I just don’t want her to know.

  I take a couple of deep breaths and stand up from the bed, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I walk into the living room, hearing the end of a conversation Tango’s having on the phone, and Tyler is staring at him with a dribble of milk spilling down her chin with curiosity.

  “Who was that?”

  “Remember me telling you about the doc who sent me over to Germany when they assumed something was wrong with me?”

  “Yeah. You two were friends, right?”

  “That’s putting it mildly, but yeah.”

  “He thinks you’re dead…” Tango has not called any of his former friends, Marines or civilian. He’s taken this death vow seriously and doesn’t want to jeopardize the man who agreed to forge his death certificate. The fact that Tango broke his own rule tells me how much trouble he’s assuming we’re walking into. Shit.

  “Not any more,” is all he says, breaking his eye contact with me. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

  “Who’s Jags?” Tyler asks with a mouthful of eggs.

  “Are you still eating, you silly girl? Those eggs must be ice-cold by now.” I try to sway her from her question, but she is a product of me.

  “Who is Jags?” she asks again.

  “Just a friend of your daddy’s,” I answer with a smile. “Tyler, finish up your eggs.”

  I turn away from Tyler and look back at Tango, widening my eyes. “Jags?”

  “That’s his name. That’s what I call him, anyway.” Tango stands up and grabs his coffee off the table. “Just for backup, okay?” He leans over and gives me a kiss on my cheek. “I have to go call your dad a
nd let him know what’s going on. I was supposed to be on a job with him tonight.”

  “He’s going to want to get involved,” I warn him. Dad’s still on the top of his game, but he’s pushing sixty and he isn’t as quick as he used to be. Then of course Mom always tags along with him, which doesn’t help anything.

  “He should know this is going on. They could go after him too.”

  I hate that he’s right.

  “Does someone want to hurt you, Mommy?” Tyler asks as Tango steps outside.

  “Tyler, finish your food,” I laugh. I sit down beside her and comb my fingers through her hair, reveling in the glow of her pearly complexion. “We’re all going to be fine. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Okay?”

  She closes her eyes and clamps her mouth shut, the skin around her lips wrinkling like a raisin. She nods her head and takes another bite of her eggs. Her personality reminds me of Krissy’s. She’s stubborn, but quiet. She sees things most people don’t see. She loves deeply and forgives easily. The reminder of Krissy overwhelms me some days and I try convincing myself that a part of her lives on through Tyler.

  * * *

  “Hey, an obnoxious Mustang with vet plates just pulled into the driveway. I’m guessing it’s Jags,” I yell to Tango. I hear the blinds tear open in the other room, followed by Tango’s heavy feet padding against the floor.

  He tears the front door open, folding his arms over his chest and lets out a loud, throaty laugh. “What’s up, dickwad?”

  Jags, who’s built exactly like Tango, has longer hair and a thick beard. From the Marine stories I’ve heard from Tango, once they’re out, they let their hair do what it wants and they tend to avoid shaving. After being forced to keep a high-and-tight and a clean shave every day for however long they’re in, I guess they tend to revolt. Jags is definitely revolting. With the build of a large wrestler, Jags resembles more of a teddy bear than a tough Marine. He pushes his Oakleys up to rest over his head and throws his bag down to the ground before pouncing into Tango, throwing his arms around him and picking him up—all two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of my six-foot-three husband. The two of them hug for way longer than I’d ever expect a couple of Marines to hug. It makes me laugh.