Targeted: Newlywed Navy Seals Risk It All! (Truth and Lies Series Book 1)

by Pinki Parks

  Eric shrugged as he steered the car into traffic. The streets were alive with the sound of car horns blaring and the brightness of the taillights in front of them. Ava squinted and turned her head to the floor of the car. Eric’s voice moved over the seats, “I swung by your office and had Valeria bring your jacket down. I can’t believe that you went out to dinner in just that,” he criticized. Her eyes met with his and Eric’s bright blue eyes were light with humor.

  Ava chuckled and leaned back into the seat. “Yeah, well, neither could Mr. Bell,” she scoffed and said, “I don’t think he could remember what we were there for. I have an in-house meeting with him scheduled for next week, we didn’t get any work done.”

  Eric shook his head as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. “Isn’t he supposed to be one of the wealthiest business owners in the city?”

  Ava shrugged. “I suppose. However, you know how those types are, right? They spent their late twenties, thirties, and forties building their empires and now they’re looking for love. Or a good lay, I’m not sure.” Ava rolled her eyes. And they’re certainly not subtle about it either. Her skin still crawled at how many times Howard suggested that they take their ‘business discussion’ back to his penthouse. When Ava had insisted upon handling business right there for the third time, Howard had pulled back as if he’d been struck. But that’s how it always goes with those types. They think that business came so easily to them, so why shouldn’t love? Or sex?

  Nights like this one were the reason that Ava would barely be able to stop herself from rolling her eyes when someone asked her “Where’s your husband?” or “Still waiting on Mr. Right, huh? How old are you again?” Ava pressed her legs together. Thirty-five was still young as far as she was concerned. It was no twenty-something like Tristan, with his carefree attitude and ambitious goals, but thirty-five still wasn’t forty. However, Ava had decided a long time ago that forty wouldn’t be “too old” either. She was confident in the knowledge that she’d never allow herself to settle for some salt and pepper haired lecher like Howard if she finally started to hear her biological clock tick.

  “Straight home? Do you need to stop by the store and get a bottle of wine?”

  Ava shook her head. “No,” she pulled her phone out of her clutch and dragged her finger across the screen. She inhaled, then pressed her thumb against the mail icon.

  With wide eyes, Ava whispered, “Forty-seven messages.”

  “What’s that?” Eric asked.

  Ava eyes were glued to her phone screen as she replied, “Huh? No, sorry, I’m just talking to myself. Actually, could you swing by the office?”

  Eric frowned as he took a left at the intersection and moved down the crowded street. “What? It’s pretty late, do you want me to wait outside for you?”

  Ava shook her head. With a sigh, she slipped her phone into her clutch and said, “No, it’s fine,” she pulled a small wallet out of her purse and withdrew two crisp one hundred-dollar bills. “I’ll cab home later,” Or fall asleep at the office. She handed the money to Eric and said, “Thank you for staying out so late,”

  Eric shook his head, “You don’t have to-”

  “Eric. Your wife would kill you if she knew that you were turning away $200. Just take it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ava grinned as Eric reluctantly took the money. The wheels squeaked against the asphalt as the car came to a stop outside of Lawrence Realty. Ava unlocked her door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Bye, Eric!”

  “Be safe, Ava!” He smashed his hand against the car horn. “Thanks again!”

  Ava’s shoulders relaxed as she headed towards the double doors of her building. She wrapped her hands around the door handle and pulled it open. The silence was louder than the sound of footsteps and the copy machine breaking down ever could have been. Lawrence Realty processed around one thousand real estate contracts a day, and feet were constantly moving throughout the building. Ava valued silence, even when it came in the form of a dark building long after all the security guards had gone home.

  They should be at home right now anyway. The only person that should be working this hard this time of year is me. Ava gripped the reflective steel railing as she walked up the massive staircase that led to the top floor. Her feet screamed in protest, and her calves ached as she came to a stop at the top of the stairs. A small smile sat on her lips as she walked past Valeria’s desk.

  Valeria’s stylish and multi-color folders sat on top of her desk, and the laptop that had been pushed off to the side hummed loudly. Ava stopped in front of the doors to her own office and kicked off her heels. She knelt down and hooked her fingers into the back of her shoes, but not before wrinkling her nose at the ripened smell that rose up from them.

  I’m the only person in my position that bothers holding onto a pair of shoes for as long as I’ve had these. She knew that she would keep wearing that particular set of heels until one of the long heels finally snapped off. Ava opened the glass door to her office, the dark sky that was beyond the windows behind her desk and to the right of her created a cube of darkness.

  Ava tossed her heels to the floor and tugged on the string that hung from the old lamp that sat in the corner. She smiled as she moved towards her desk. Her desk, a custom-made mahogany piece with six drawers on either side and exactly enough space to fit her legs if she wanted to sit cross-legged, was one of the first things that she bought when her company sold a one-billion-dollar property. She eased into the black cushioned office chair that was scooted up to her workspace and collapsed into it. Her lower back and butt melted into the seat and the feelings of disgust and contempt that she’d been battling since dinner seeped out of her mind.

  Ava’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair, and she lifted one of her hands. She dragged a hand through her hair and winced when she remembered that she’d have to take a long shower in order to get all the filth and hairspray out of her hair. A bright red blur caught her eye, and she lifted her legs off of the ground. Her chair sprang forward, and her heart pounded as she walked around the other side of her desk.

  “All that for a cup, I’m so dramatic,” she mumbled. She knelt down and wrapped her fingers around the bright red disposable coffee cup that she’d bought from Keller’s earlier. Her brief walk and talk with Tristan flashed through her mind, and she allowed herself a smile upon remembering the confused but content feeling she’d had after talking with him.

  Her laptop dinged with the sound of a message. She jumped to her feet and walked around to the desk. The name Howard Bell stood out against the white background of her inbox. Ava sighed as she set the cup on the edge of her desk and collapsed into her office chair. It’d be nice if all men could make you feel that light.

  Chapter 5

  Tristan swiped his hands along the outside of his coat, then slipped them into his pocket. From the subway ride from his small studio apartment to his parent’s duplex in Sunnyside, he’d been toying with a loose thread on the coat. He’d torn off one thread, then another, and before he knew it, he found five more loose threads.

  Mom doesn’t need something to freak out about. Anna Marquez found a way to freak out about most things, whether it was if he was eating enough, if his apartment pushed out enough warm air, or if he was going to keep his scholarship.

  He dragged his feet along the sidewalk and drew his shoulders together as a bitter gust of wind brushed against his exposed neck. He frowned, as his footsteps slowed in front of the steps that led to his parent’s home. A frayed and beat up looking teddy bear sat in the front window of the apartment next to him. He knew that as soon as he stepped inside, the sound of children laughing and running around the small space would echo throughout the halls. The sound of children playing at all hours of the day had been part of the reason that Tristan insisted on moving into his own place once he got accepted into college.

  Tristan sighed as he lifted one of his feet onto the steps in fr
ont of him, then another, and he slowly moved up the steps until he stood outside the front door. He sighed and pressed his thumb against the flat, worn button on the call box. He gritted his teeth together as static crinkled and surged through the speaker.

  Tristan cleared his throat and said, “Mom? Dad? I’m here.” From inside of his coat, he crossed his fingers. Maybe they wouldn’t be home. Maybe he could avoid the questions for once and use his Sunday to rest up for the week ahead. After his classes were over for the day, he’d be going to work for a few hours, he liked that his boss, Sophia, created a flexible schedule for him, but he hadn’t a night out in weeks.

  He winced as the call box surged to life and his mother’s voice came through the speaker, “Tristan? Come in. I just pulled the roast out of the oven.”

  The door buzzed, and he wrapped his hands around the door handle. He pulled it open and stepped into the main hall of the apartment. The old, massive heater that heated the entire building surged and cranked out a strong gust of warm air. He moved up the steps, and thumps followed him throughout the hall. He stopped just outside of his parent’s door and took a deep breath. Come on, it's only for a few hours. Tristan wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and the door fell open just as he knew it would.

  The smell of caramelized onions, steamed broccoli, and roasted meat clung to the air. Tristan blinked as he stepped inside. They’ve rearranged again. His father had been the one ‘rearranging’. His mother had been laid off from her job at the department store. She and his father thought that it would only take a few weeks for her to find something else, with her degree in business, and experience managing an entire department store. That was three months ago, and Tristan’s chest felt tight every time he stepped into the apartment and saw that the apartment has been turned onto its head again.

  The sofa that he’d been sitting on and climbing all over since he was a kid had been pushed to the far-right side of the room. A small bookcase that overflowed with his mother’s cookbooks sat beside it, and his father had moved the television into the center of the room. If Tristan focused long enough, he could still make out the holes where the flat screen was previously mounted.

  Tristan shrugged his coat off and hung it onto the coat rack beside him. The sound of footsteps gliding across the floor stole his attention, and his mother, Anna, stood in front of him.

  Her piercing blue eyes lit up as she approached him. His mother had features that anyone would consider to be classically beautiful. She was thin, and had long, blonde hair that hadn’t seen a gray hair yet. Although, Tristan suspected that her youthful appearance had more to do with her dedication to yoga and taking it easy, a trait that he had not inherited, and that if she’d been a more career focused person like Ava Lawrence, then she would have plenty of grays to count against those silky blonde strands.

  She threw her arms out and reached towards Tristan, her hands rested against the middle of his chest. “How’s school?” She smoothed her hands against his shirt and said, “Do you need help with laundry?”

  Tristan set his hand on top of his mother’s wiry hands and pushed them towards the floor. “I’m fine. Laundry is taken care of, Mom.”

  “Good, good.” Anna looked towards the floor before whipping her head up so fast that a loose piece of hair escaped from her braid and clung to the thin sheen of lipstick that covered her lips. “Did you meet anyone?”

  Tristan swallowed the urge to sigh. “Not yet.” While he knew that Anna was more bored than anything, she’d taken a vested interest in his personal life while she looked for work. His shoulders loosened as a thundering sound echoed throughout the living room. Tristan looked over his head and connected with the dark eyes of his father.

  Mateo wore a grin as he held his arms out towards Tristan. “I was wondering if you would stop by this Sunday,”

  Tristan threw an arm around him and said, “I’ve got to eat.”

  Mateo withdrew, his smile was glued to his lips, his eyes were heavy as they examined Tristan’s face. Mateo’s eyes slid to Anna, and then back to Tristan before he mumbled, “Thanks for coming by, okay?”

  Tristan frowned as he followed his parents into the kitchen. He knew that Anna was running out of hobbies to throw herself into, but it was unlike his father to wear his worry on his sleeves. The pain etched into his sandalwood hued features had been unmistakable. A sinking feeling spread throughout the center of Tristan’s chest, and he kept his eyes to the floor as he stepped inside of the kitchen.

  Anna blew past him and hovered in front of a pot that sizzled and popped with boiling marina. She turned her head slightly and said, “So, we’re doing something different this Sunday. I hope you don’t mind, Tristan.”

  Tristan raised his eyebrows as he exchanged a glance with Mateo. “Don’t mind what?” Tristan swept his hands against one of Mateo’s burly arms. “Dad? What’s she talking about?”

  The pipes rattled as the toilet flushed down the hall. Tristan turned his eyes towards Mateo and said, “Dad? Who’s here?”

  Mateo sighed as Anna spooned marina onto freshly fried pieces of polenta. His fingers scratched at the dark hair that lined his jaw. “Anna invited Justine over. Do you remember Justine?”

  Small footsteps slapped against the floor and Tristan turned to see Justine Newman leaning against the doorway. Her lips were spread into a wide smile, bright red lipstick stuck out in contrast to her perfect white teeth. Her dark hair had been tossed into a haphazard half up, half down ponytail.

  How could I forget Justine? The whole neighborhood listened to her fight with that guy for years. Justine and her mother lived on the other side of the duplex, they had moved in just as Tristan started high school. Justine had been approaching her last year of high school, and fourth boyfriend that year.

  Tristan put on a polite smile and extended his hand towards her, “Hey, Justine. How are you?”

  Justine pushed her shoulders back and swept her free hand over some wild strands of hair that escaped from her ponytail. “Hey, Tristan. How’s college? Do you like the University? I’m thinking of transferring?”

  Anna hummed to herself as she set the last plate onto the small dining table. She gestured towards the table and said, “Who’s ready to eat? The polenta is fresh, and I’ve spent all day making the marina sauce.”

  Mateo chuckled and said, “Justine, she’s kidding. She spent a couple hours doing it this afternoon.” He sent an apologetic glance towards Tristan before pulling his chair out. The wood scraped against the floor and Mateo stabbed his fork into his plate.

  Tristan walked around the table and sat in the chair across from Justine. Anna’s eyes flickered from Justine’s face to Tristan’s. She reached forward and set her hand on his shoulder. “Tristan, Justine has been hoping to talk to someone about going to college. I told her that you’ve always been a good-”

  You’ve got to fucking kidding me. “I’m really just focused on maintaining my scholarship right now. It’s really not even worth talking about until you’ve figured out how to pay for everything.”

  Justine nodded and scooped polenta onto her fork. “Yeah, I was thinking about taking out a loan.”

  “A lot of the loans are really high in-”

  The chair creaked as Justine leaned forward with her phone dangling in between her fingertips. The glow of her phone screen was bright against Tristan’s face, and she said, “See? I’ve been researching everything. I think I want to go to business school.”

  Anna’s face lit up as she said, “That’d be interesting. A business guru and an attorney?”

  “Anna.” Mateo’s voice slammed into the middle of the conversation like a hammer onto a stubborn nail. Anna pursed her lips and dragged her knife across her plate. Her jaws popped and clicked as she chewed on her polenta. She pointed the prongs of her fork at Tristan and said, “I’m just saying, it seems like you don’t have a lot of friends at the university.”

  “I have friends, Mom.”
<
br />   “You’re always cranky.”

  Tristan cleared his throat and said, “Justine, I really don’t know much about entering university with loans. I got really lucky with my scholarship.”

  Anna scoffed and reached for her water glass as she said, “He was anything but lucky, Justine. He works so hard, I want him to enjoy everything that life has to offer. With someone interesting to talk to.”

  Justine would be the last woman I’d call if I wanted to talk about something interesting. While Tristan had never considered himself to be the kind of person that looked down on others, he’d seen Justine in action too many times over the years. He’d watched a whirlwind of boyfriends enter her life and exit in a flurry of curses and threats. He’d seen Justine standing on the curb, with black streaks running down her cheeks as she watched the latest guy take off towards the subway. That, coupled with the fact, that she was so aimless that Tristan feared it would rub off on him if he spent too much time around her, was all the evidence he needed to know that Justine Newman was not girlfriend, or even coffee date material.

  Tristan stabbed his fork into the center of his plate and spread Anna’s homemade sauce across the plate. I nearly went on a coffee date with Ava Lawrence the other day, and Mom is trying to fix me up with the hottest mess in the neighborhood. Tristan sighed and said, “I wish I could be more help. I think Mom’s just worried that I’m getting lonely.”

  Mateo reached forward and cupped a bowl of dinner rolls in his hand. He tilted one towards Tristan and said, “If you say that you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  Tristan grinned and the four of them made it through the rest of the dinner without any casualties. Tristan gave his mother another half hour of small talk long after he’d unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and cleaned two plates worth of food. He rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, his muscles popped, and he already started to imagine how the water would feel against his skin once he made it out of the cold and back to his apartment.