by Liz Johnson
Over and over, she chanted in her mind, This is not for real. This is not for real.
They would take the Morsyni with them.
Tonight.
No one would be hurt. She’d be responsible for no one’s death. That reassurance kept her moving as Will worked in silence by her side.
He looked as if he was working on a similar project, cleaning the release valves. But instead he was playing with a six-inch piece of wire, bending and folding it until it disappeared around a button on the cuff of his shirt.
Sergio had watch duty, but kept his ear pressed against the door, likely listening for the commotion that would mean the boss had arrived. Finally, the blades of a helicopter cut the air, louder than a tornado.
When the pilot turned off the chopper’s engine, the slowly subsiding roar of the rotors was replaced by exuberant cheers that reached them as though the building didn’t even have walls.
Juan Carlos was either extravagantly loved or infinitely feared.
Sergio glared at Will and Jess, as though it was entirely their fault that he wasn’t outside to watch the spectacle. He paced the front of the room, swinging his gun back and forth and mumbling to himself. Finally, he barked something and left, slamming the metal door behind him. After a short pause, a loud click secured the outside lock on the best exit from the room.
“Hope there’s not a fire,” Jess said wryly. Will gave an obligatory chuckle. “What are you doing?” She was so used to keeping her voice low that the words were barely audible.
He looked innocent as he held up his sleeve. “You like it?”
“What’s it for?”
“We’re going to have to break into the lab tonight. They keep it padlocked when we’re not in here, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get the keys before we need back in.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Huh?” One of his eyebrows flattened.
“Pick a lock.”
He shrugged. “Just part of the job. You pick things up all over the world from everyone you meet. I can blow up a brick of C-4, order a cup of coffee in Iraq, fly a Blackhawk. Well…in a pinch.” He gave her a saucy wink. “They’d never give me a license to fly one after I nearly took the last one into the side of a mountain when the pilots were shot.”
Not for the first time in the past week, she wondered who this man really was.
He was confident, but not obnoxiously cocky. He gave her orders as if he was used to having them obeyed. Even worse, they were always the best thing to do. There wasn’t an unsure bone in his body, and she’d begun to rely on that.
“Luke taught me how to pick a lock his first week on our team. He said it helped him relieve stress.” Will reached for a can. “It’s kind of like the job. Searching in the dark for the one thing that will make sense out of everything else that’s going on. Most guys watch TV or get on the computer or call their families when we have downtime. Luke, he sits on his bunk and picks padlocks.”
“Who’s Luke?”
“My best friend.” Will didn’t look up from the release valve in his hands, but his words were a kick to her stomach.
Of course he had a best friend. She had good friends, too. Several of them, actually. Friends from school and women she’d met while volunteering at Pacific Coast House, a safe home for women and children who had suffered domestic abuse. Ashley and Staci, a pair of sisters-in-law who ran the home, had become surrogate family to Jess before her dad returned to San Diego and his new post as the XO of the base at Coronado.
But somehow, even after all these years of radio silence, she couldn’t bring herself to call anyone but Will her best friend.
Maybe it was because he’d so magnificently violated the title that she couldn’t easily give it out again.
Or maybe—and she had a twinge in her stomach that suggested this might be the case—it was just because she’d always hoped he’d come back and want the moniker again.
“He sounds…nice.” Was there a more inappropriate word? The guy picked locks to relieve stress. He was a navy SEAL. He was probably anything but just plain old nice.
Will chuckled, deep in his throat. “Luke is…Luke. He’s a good guy. The kind you want by your side in a firefight.”
“And how many have you been in together?”
Will’s hands stopped moving, and he shot her a glance out of the side of his eye. “Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged, suddenly terribly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation and all her thoughts about herself and Luke and especially Will. “Never mind. I know better than to ask.” Even though her dad had taught her not to, she’d made the mistake of asking a SEAL once about his recent mission. She’d let a grad school friend talk her into going to a pub that everyone knew SEALs hung out at, and when one started chatting her up, she’d asked where he had been deployed. He’d drawn up tighter than a cheapskate’s purse strings. SEALs didn’t talk about what they did. The mystery was part of their appeal to the women who frequented that pub.
And anyway, Will’s missions were absolutely none of her business.
He scratched his chin, his fingernails rasping the week-old beard growing there. “We’ve been through enough for me to know he’s the guy I want watching my six.”
“You trust him, then?”
“Of course.” Will’s voice raised in an unspoken question as he gazed straight into her eyes, as if he was trying to read whatever was written on her heart. “Do you trust me? To get you out of here, I mean.”
The weight of his gaze, or maybe his question, was too much for her to handle. She turned away, staring at the point where her hands rested on the sleek black counter. She pressed them flat to keep them from trembling as a flood of emotions washed through her.
“Jess?”
“What do you want me to say?”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair, leaving a resilient section standing on end, before scrubbing his face with his palms. “I don’t know. I guess I just hoped that by now you’d trust me on this mission.”
“I know you can handle the mission stuff.” The words popped out before she even realized they were on the tip of her tongue, but she knew immediately that they were true. “I can see that you’re a good SEAL. I know you’ll figure out a way for us to get out of here. It’s just the rest…”
“What rest? Ten years ago?”
“Will, you were the best friend I’d ever had. I told you everything. Even about my mom leaving. I never told anyone else. Not even Sal knew that she didn’t tell me she was going and never came back for me.”
Will’s swallow was thick and audible in the sudden silence. “I didn’t realize I was the only one you’d told.”
“I know. I didn’t want to tell you, but you asked. And no one ever asked. Everyone who knew just knew. My dad. Great-aunt Eva. And everyone else seemed to think they weren’t allowed to bring it up in front of me. I don’t think your mom even knew the whole story. She just took me in like I was one of her own.” Stupid tears welled up in the corners of Jess’s eyes, and she pressed the heels of her hands there to keep a breakdown at bay. Why did she always cry when she talked about her mom? Usually they were tears of frustration, but these were something else. Something deeper.
This was neither the time nor the place to dig into whatever that might be.
Will rubbed her shoulder, but she shrugged off his touch, the sensation too much to tolerate in her already hyperaware state.
“You were the most stable family I had. And then you just left. No note. No call. No nothing. For ten years. It was just like mom all over again. Like you’d decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for.”
“I know. And I am so sorry.” His voice dropped, pain and another emotion she couldn’t identify woven through every word.
“I don’t want your apologies,” she snapped, then cringed and pressed her hand to her forehead, letting out a sigh between tight lips. Swiping her hand beneath her drippy nose, she to
ok a stabilizing breath. “Sorry. It’s just that every time I see you, all I feel is this terrible hole in my heart where my best friend is supposed to be.” She pressed her fist to the hollow in the center of her chest. “And all I know is that you’re just like her.”
His face fell at her harsh words. “Oh, Jess, don’t say that.”
“How else am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to forget what you did just because you showed up this time when I needed you? Just because I needed to be rescued and you could help?”
“No, of course—”
“And you didn’t come back because you wanted to. You came because my dad sent you.” Will opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue one or both of those points, but she waved her finger in the air to keep him quiet. “I mean, I’m glad that you’re here, and not just because you’re trained and capable of getting us out of here. It really is good to see you again. And I trust that you can do your job. I just…”
Oh, the words were there, but not. They were so close she could taste them, but they were bitter and hostile, and she wanted to spit them out, but couldn’t find the way. So she swallowed them.
Just as she’d done with every word she’d wanted to say to her mother for sixteen years.
A muscle in Will’s jaw jumped as Jess’s voice trailed off, his mouth working in silent deliberation.
“I don’t know what I want from you, but right now, I just want to get home in time for Christmas,” she finally said. “I want to sit in my dad’s living room and give him a fishing pole. I want to eat his dry turkey, mushy stuffing and soggy pumpkin pie. I want him to hug me and promise me that this will never happen again. I want to spend my favorite holiday with the one person in my life who has never let me down.”
“I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen, but…” Will let out a strong breath through his nose. “I owe you an explanation.”
“Does it even matter?” She wanted it not to. She wanted that so much, and she prayed that saying the words would make it so. “You’ve risked your life for me at least a dozen times in the last week. Thank you for that. I appreciate it. But I’m not sure I can ever forgive you.”
*
Will had been shot before, but that hadn’t hurt as much as this. It stung just to breathe, and it had nothing to do with the stale air. He rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to clear what was blocking his throat. Except he couldn’t rub off the words that sank into his skin like a tattoo.
Still, his apology was incomplete. She deserved the truth—at least what was his to tell.
“I was scared, okay?”
Her head shot around faster than a hummingbird.
“I was a stupid kid, and I was scared of losing you.”
“So you did what? Made sure you lost me on your own terms? How’d that work out for you?” Bitterness dripped from every syllable, her eyes sparking with anger and frustration. She’d said she didn’t want justifications, but the questions on her face flashed loud and clear.
At least she was showing emotion. And anger he could handle. It was the tears she’d had just minutes before that sent his stomach into a dive. She’d had ten years to let bitterness fester, and he didn’t blame her for not forgiving him.
After all these years, he hadn’t quite figured out how to forgive himself.
Inhaling deeply, he hunted for the right response.
“I didn’t know how to be both Sal’s brother and your best friend. I couldn’t hope you’d say yes and no at the same time. It was like being torn in two.”
There were no maps for this kind of thing. Maps he could read. Directions he could follow. A compass and the stars could get him anywhere he wanted to go. But no one had ever plotted the words to say when words weren’t enough.
“You’re not making any sense, Will.”
“I know.” He shifted his weight to his other leg, suddenly craving a five-mile run in the sand almost as much as hearing her say his name again. “I didn’t understand then and I still don’t entirely. It was all too much.”
“What was too much?”
He sighed, glaring at the ceiling and begging for the right words to make her understand. “I think I was in love you. I was just too young, too insecure to realize it. I just knew I could not watch you marry my brother. So instead of telling you what I was feeling—or even dealing with my feelings at all—I took the coward’s way out.”
“I don’t…I don’t understand. That last night in your car. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And have you do what? Ask me why? Suggest that I didn’t want you to be a permanent part of my family?” He grabbed onto his hair at the roots and yanked. Pain helped him focus, and in that moment, he desperately needed help to keep his words on track and his voice calm. “You would have made me tell you. And at the time, I didn’t even know why. But I knew that Sal’s ring on your finger was going to change things between us. I didn’t want that.”
She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, making it red and plump, and sending his mind where it had no business going, recalling recent memories of his lips pressed to hers.
“So why did you stay away?”
“Because.”
“That’s the best you can come up with? I thought you were smarter than that. Most SEALs are.”
His skin suddenly felt too tight, and his blood was pounding too hard, nearly drowning out her taunt.
“I mean, you knew I turned Sal down, right?”
“I heard. About a year later.”
“So why not call me then? Or send me an email? Two lines. ‘Jess, I’m okay. I’ll be back.’ Boom. Done. Is that too much to ask?”
“Right about then, I wasn’t very proud of the man that I’d become. I was doing my best to live up to every negative stereotype a navy man could acquire. I wasn’t good enough for you, and I knew it.”
“What changed?”
He refused to analyze if her question suggested that he was worthy of her now. Because it didn’t matter. Even if they both wanted to be together, Sal’s continued feelings for her stood between them like a sentry.
“I met a couple guys. L.T. and Rock. They’re SEALs and men of integrity, and, man, I wanted to be like them.”
Her face scrunched up. “L.T.—Tristan Sawyer?”
Will paused, examining the subtle shifting of her eyes. “Yes.”
“I know him. Well, not really. But I know his wife, Staci, and his sister, Ashley.”
Will shook his head, his worlds colliding so fast that he had to hold on to his chin to keep his head from falling off. “Of course you do. From the shelter?”
“Do you know them?”
“Well, way before she was L.T.’s wife, Staci almost got me run over by a van in front of Pacific Coast House.”
Jess’s hand shot forward to grab his arm. “Were you hurt?”
“I said ‘almost.’” But he didn’t mind the tender grip on his forearm or the concern wrinkling her forehead.
Taking a little step forward, he wrapped his hand around hers, holding it in place. Her gaze shot to the point of contact, but she didn’t try to pull away.
“I’m glad.” She blinked and licked her lips, still focused on his hand. “That you weren’t run over, I mean.”
“Me, too.” He stared at her, his attention entirely consumed by her. She smelled of plastic and rubber and the lab, and despite the lack of sleep, her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink with life. He reached his free hand to her face, running his knuckles over the satin of her skin.
Finally, she looked up and let out a long sigh. “I’m still mad you.”
“You should be.”
“Why are you making it harder for me to stay angry?”
He shrugged, giving her a gentle smirk. “I’m not trying to.”
“I know.” She looked away, but didn’t dislodge his finger, which had stopped under her chin. “That’s what’s making it hard. You used to pass blame off whenever you could. But you’re not that guy anymore, are you?”
Risking another little step toward her, he fully invaded her space. Her feet didn’t move, but her breath caught on a sudden intake as her eyes grew wide.
“Jessalynn, I knew I didn’t deserve you back then, and I’m not arrogant enough to think that I do now. But I’m trying hard to be a better man. Whatever that looks like. Every day. And today, that means that you can count on me. I won’t leave you again.”
“Does that mean that we’ll be friends when we get back to San Diego? Will we pick up right where we left off?”
It would have been so easy to say yes. It would also have been a lie. Now that he knew he loved her—and that he could never hurt his brother by trying for a relationship with her—how could he stand being by her side but never holding her? Being her best friend but knowing that he’d never be anything more?
He bit back the easy answer in favor of an honest one. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s that simple. But if you need me, I will be there for you. All right?”
Her eyes grew wide, deep and stormy as the ocean. Her apron brushed against his, and his breath stirred the chestnut strands that had escaped the rubber band in her hair. Had he stepped closer? Apparently so.
But not close enough.
When his shoe bumped into hers, he paused. Then leaned in a little more.
This was a terrible idea. He had no business getting so near to her. Again. It was bound to lead to the same place it had last time.
But his promise deserved to be sealed with a kiss. And any good military man knew better than to argue with protocol.
Slipping both arms around her back, he pulled her all the way against him. She squeaked and pressed her hands to his chest. The hum in his ears started low and slow, building with every second as he memorized her face. The freckles sprinkled over her nose hadn’t changed, but the fine lines on either side of her smile were new. Her lips were pink and smooth and hanging open just enough to show off her adorably crooked front tooth. Long lashes fluttered over her eyes, never lifting much past the level of his nose.
Maybe she was as mesmerized by his lips as he was by hers.
Could they have had ten years of this? If he’d just talked with Sal? If he’d been honest with himself? If he hadn’t been a coward?