by Eve Langlais
“We have to go.”
“Go home, now?” he queried. “Why?”
“Not home. We need to leave the city. Today.”
Only as she reached the van did she realize he wasn’t following. He stood a few yards away, an angry look on his face. “I can’t leave. I have practice.”
“Sorry, mijito, but this is important.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I can’t say. Get in the van.”
He got in, his face sullen, but he wasn’t done. “I don’t want to leave.”
“There’s danger if we stay.”
“Danger how?”
How to explain that his psycho father’s even more psycho brother was gunning for them? Or her, at least, but she wouldn’t put it past Pedro to hurt Nico to get at her.
“Someone at Mommy’s work is angry.”
“So call the police.”
“The police can’t help us.”
“I don’t want to leave. I can’t. My team needs me.”
The anguish in his words tore at her. How could she let her past mistakes hurt him? And what the hell was she thinking running?
Pedro was just a thug.
Not even a smart or sophisticated one. So why the fuck was Carla letting Pedro win? She had taken down bigger assholes than him. She was the one who should be instilling fear and exacting retribution. Did it really only take the blustering threats of one bully to destroy a decade of training?
She patted her son’s knee. “You’re right, mijito. We shouldn’t let a bad guy chase us away. This is our home.”
Which was why the moment they got home, she sent out a group chat.
Soccer Mom: Hey, gals, long time no see. I was wondering if you want to come for a visit and watch Nico’s big game this weekend.
Hockey Mom: Sure. It’s off-season for me, and Junior is due for a visit with Grandma.
Frenemy Mom: Can’t. Little tadpole in the oven is making travel queasy. But I might send Declan. He’s driving me nuts.
Soccer Mom: LOL. Better keep him at home because you know he’ll just be texting nonstop to check on you.
Tiger Mom: I can’t get a sitter, and it’s been a while since our kids visited. Do you have room for the twins?
Soccer Mom: Sure. Aunt Judy has some extra beds.
Cougar Mom: Just finishing my trip in the Bahamas and would love an excuse not to go home quite yet. Empty nesting sucks!
Soccer Mom: Can’t wait to see you.
Slipping her phone into her pocket, a sense of relief—and evil satisfaction—filled Carla. Pedro didn’t know who he’d fucked with. She’d just called in the cavalry, and if there was one thing you never fucked with, it was a Killer Mom’s kid.
Chapter Fifteen
As Philip ran the boys through their practice, he couldn’t help being distracted.
Carla had arrived last, and even from his spot on the field, he could see the tension in her. The way she scanned everything and everyone. What had her on edge? More vandalism?
He had to wonder, because that afternoon, he’d had to deal with his irritated boss.
“Have you talked to her about coming back yet?” Oliveira barked without saying hello.
“We haven’t even been back a day. Give her some time.”
“I’ve already wasted too much time,” his boss muttered.
“You’re not making sense.”
“You’ll understand soon. I’ll explain everything once you’re back.”
“Why not tell me now?”
“I have my reasons.”
Reasons Philip couldn’t fathom, which was why he had no intention of pressuring Carla into returning to Pasadena. At least not for Oliveira. If Philip asked her to move, it would be for another reason entirely.
Despite having known her for only a few days, he was falling for the woman, prickly nature and all. Liked her enough that he’d yet to decide if he would go back home once the coaching gig was done. Staying, though, meant quitting his job, but he’d socked away enough money that he could float for quite some time. He could always pick up an odd job here and there.
But all that was premature-thinking, given Carla’s view on dating and men.
For all Philip knew, last night truly was the last time they’d be together. He hoped not.
When the practice ended, he sauntered over to Carla, hands in pockets, attempting to look casual, hiding his irritation at every parent that tried to get in his way. Yapping about the big game. Asking all kinds of questions.
He might have been more abrupt than necessary, which meant they’d complain. Let them. There was only one big game left for him to coach, then they could harass whoever was hired for the following season.
As Philip neared Carla, she didn’t acknowledge him, her gaze still intent on the road as Nico tossed his stuff into the van.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Spoken without turning to look at him.
It rubbed him wrong, even as he recognized her tense posture. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” She bald-faced lied. Anyone could see that something had her on edge.
“I’m not an idiot. Something has you freaked out.” Because her actions were those of a person on high-alert.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
As reassuring statements went, it fell flat. Carla thought she could deal, alone, with whatever had her jumpy as a cat. For some reason, it roused Philip’s anger. “Are you being threatened?”
“I said I can handle it.” She pushed away from her van, her hands tucked into her pockets, her bulky sweater slouching over them.
“Would it kill you to let me help you?”
“Possibly.” She grinned. And then, to his surprise, she went on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for giving a shit. But I am seriously fine.”
“I’m not. You’re driving me crazy.”
“I thought that was a good thing.” The woman threw him off-kilter with a wink.
“Does that mean I can see you later?” he asked as she walked around the van.
“Why not?” She gave him a look. “Same time?”
He was there by nine fourteen, sharp. This time with a six-pack of beer.
She shoved them into the fridge and then she was all over him.
They barely made it to her room, their passion proved so fierce. Round two, he made sure to enjoy a more leisurely exploration in bed.
Once again, she kicked him out at an ungodly hour.
But he didn’t complain. The fact of the matter was, Carla hadn’t said no to him. Which was why he felt pretty confident in saying, “See you tomorrow,” as he prepared to leave.
“Can’t do tomorrow. My girlfriends are visiting from out of town, so I’m gonna have a full house.”
“Embarrassed of me?” he prodded.
“More like I wasn’t going to submit you to their curiosity. But if you think you can handle it…” she teased.
“Same time as usual?”
“Sure. And if you feel a need to bring something, bring ice cream. Salted caramel or cherry cheesecake, or both.”
“Not wine?”
“We don’t drink.”
He’d lose his man card for admitting it; however, he felt a certain excitement at her invitation. Willing to introduce him to her friends. A big step. Not that he made a big deal of it.
He played it cool as he left, giving her a hot kiss that left her with heavy-lidded eyes and a smile.
He returned the next day, same time as usual, with a few cartons of ice cream in a bag, and a box of chocolates tucked between his arm and body.
There were two cars parked out front and in the driveway. One with out-of-town plates, the other a rental.
He fought an urge to check his appearance and lightly knocked.
The door was answered by a blonde, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her expression bright and curious. “Hi.”
“Hi. Um, I’m Philip. A friend of Carla’s,�
�� he stated.
“I know who you are. We’ve been waiting for you.”
The way she said it made him wonder what he’d walked into. Especially since there was music playing, an instrumental jazz piece.
“I brought goodies,” he said, lifting the bag.
“So did we.” A big smile pulled her lips as she sang, “Carla, your boyfriend is here.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Carla exclaimed, appearing behind the blonde and giving her a playful shove. “He’s my fuck buddy.”
He didn’t know if he should die of embarrassment on the spot or be glad that at least she didn’t pretend they were nothing. Fuck buddy was better than nobody.
“He’s cute,” remarked a very well put-together older woman who eyed him up and down. “Preppier than I would have expected you to go for. More my type, as a matter of fact.”
“Down, Meredith. He’s mine.”
Again, said in a lighter, teasing tone than he’d ever heard from Carla before. He especially liked the mine part.
Philip entered and said in an aside to Carla, “Where’s Nico?”
“He is staying at my aunt Judy’s. My friend Portia came into town with her girls, so he’s visiting with them. You’ll meet her later.”
“Oh.”
“And now to introduce you to the ladies. That cougar trying to size you up is Meredith. Watch her hands, she likes to grab ass, and it would be a shame if I had to cut them off,” Carla joked.
Meredith snorted. “Your knife skills aren’t that good, so I’d like to see you try.”
“The one who can’t pronounce about and drops eh’s like they’re going out of style is Tanya.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell him I live on poutine and beavertails,” the Canadian woman said with a roll of her eyes.
“I was saving that for later. Girls, this is Philip. Nico’s coach, and my fuck buddy.”
What could a man say to that kind of intro? “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Meredith eyed him and pursed her lips. “So, he’s the one who conned you into checking out that academy?”
“The one and only.”
“Must be some good dick,” Meredith noted.
The frankness made him wonder if he should run away. But he was made of sterner stuff.
The ice cream and chocolate were taken from him, and he was shoved into taking a seat on the couch. Carla took a spot beside him, while the other two perched across from them and bombarded him with questions.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Tell us about your family.”
“What did you study in college?”
Mostly basic stuff that he easily answered while his gaze often sought out Carla, who was more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. She leaned against the armrest of the couch, half turned, with her feet tucked against his legs.
He began tossing his own questions back. “How did you guys become friends?”
That caused them to share a glance with each other before Carla shrugged. “We attended the same camp.”
“In Canada,” Tanya snickered.
“Were you the camp instructor?” he asked the older woman.
“Not exactly. I was a returning attendee when they were there,” Meredith explained.
“What kind of camp?”
“Survival training. For girls only.” Carla stood and went into the kitchen before returning with a few glasses filled with a golden liquid. She handed one to Philip.
“It’s fresh lemonade,” Tanya said. “Portia made it earlier.”
“Because she’s a total tiger mom who is always watching everything we eat. Natural this and natural that,” Carla mocked.
“Processed foods are bad for us.” Tanya rose to the missing friend’s defense.
“But they taste so good,” Carla remarked.
“Until you get older, then they’re the devil’s food,” Meredith chimed in.
As for Philip, he stayed out of the debate and took a large gulp. It could have used more sugar given its tartness.
“It’s good.” Would have been better with vodka, though.
“Have you ever played Never Have I Ever?” Tanya asked.
“I know of it. Why?”
“Because we’re going to play.” Tanya clapped her hands.
Meredith dangled her glass. “I’ll start. Never have I ever eaten a beavertail.”
As Tanya took a big sip of her drink, he couldn’t help a grimace. “Is that a Canadian delicacy?” he asked.
Carla chuckled. “She’s fucking with you. It’s a pastry they make fried in oil and dipped in icing.”
Tanya giggled. “It messes with the tourists.”
“My turn.” Tanya held up her glass. “Never have I ever skinny-dipped.”
The women groaned as Meredith tilted back her beverage. He joined her.
When Carla gaped, Philip shrugged. “What? Haven’t you?”
“No. I live in the city. Where am I going to swim naked?”
The questions went on and on. With him drinking for many of them, but he wasn’t alone. He ended up with a second glass when the statements took an odd turn.
“Never have I ever killed someone,” Carla stated. Then drank. As did Tanya and Meredith.
He hesitated before drinking, too. Then laughed. “I take it we’re counting bugs and rodents.”
“Some of them were definitely roaches,” snickered Tanya.
“I think we’re ready,” was Meredith’s cryptic reply.
“How long have you been working for Oliveira?” Carla asked.
The query made him frown since he was fairly sure he’d already told her, and it didn’t seem part of the game. “Seven years.”
“And your real name is Philip Moore?” Meredith put down her glass.
“Philip John Moore, the second. My dad has delusions of grandeur,” he admitted before taking another sip.
“How old are you?” Tanya’s turn.
“Thirty-seven. And before you ask, I’m a Taurus.” He relaxed as he let them conduct their interview. Apparently, it was the get-to-know-the-fuck-buddy portion of the evening. Let them question. He still saw it as a good sign that Carla had let him meet her friends.
“What branch of the military did you work for?”
How did they know? “Special Ops, Delta Force.” He spilled the secret and blinked.
Carla exchanged a glance with Meredith, who stood and drew closer. “How long did you serve?”
None of your business. The words he should have said. Instead, “I joined at nineteen and did eight years before I retired.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because my commanding officer was an asshole who didn’t give a shit about his men. And I got annoyed that the truly bad men weren’t the ones we were ordered to take out.” The truth blurted from him, and anger filled him as he spilled closely guarded secrets. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He stared at his glass, then at Carla, who still watched him.
“What did you do to me?”
“Truth serum.”
“Fuck off.” He didn’t believe her, even as his tongue loosened some more, making him almost blurt out how pretty she looked right now.
Her expression said she was serious. “Tanya slipped it into your drink.”
Anger flared hotly inside him. “What the fuck, Carla? Why?”
“Because I don’t like secrets.”
He growled. “Some secrets are not supposed to be revealed. I signed documents to keep quiet about my time in the military.”
“A career you never told me about.”
“Because you didn’t ask,” he snapped.
“Would you have told me?”
“No.” The word blurted from him. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“And yet it makes you that much more interesting,” Carla noted, moving to kneel before him. “You were a sniper.”
“Yes.” He hissed.
“How many did you kill?”
“Too many.”
“Did they deserve it?”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, but the truth kept spilling. “Some did.”
“Do you have nightmares? Regrets?”
“There are always regrets.” But bad dreams or the PTSD that so many others suffered? Maybe he lacked something, some kind of empathy, because one of the reasons he excelled at his job was because he didn’t feel a thing. He did as he was told and slept like a baby afterwards. However, he did eventually become choosy about whom he’d kill. When the day came that his commanding officer ordered him to kill someone, a woman whose only crime was being married to the wrong guy, he’d said no and walked away.
“What do you know of me and Nico?”
“You’re hot. He’s a cool kid.”
One of her friends giggled.
“What’s my name?”
“Carla Baker.”
“My other name?”
He frowned. “What other name?”
“Do you know Pedro?”
“No. Who is he?”
“A bad shit. Are you here to take my son from me?”
“No.” He would never. “But Oliveira wants him. Both of you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” What he did know was that he needed to get out of there. Needed to escape before Carla asked the right question and he spilled things that should never be revealed.
He stood, and his head spun.
“Where are you going?” Carla asked.
“Away.”
“Away where?”
“Anywhere away from you. This isn’t cool.”
“I’ve got a question for him,” said Meredith. “Do you like Carla?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love her?”
“Tanya!” Carla screeched.
He bit his lip rather than reply because the startling truth was, he might. And this even though he couldn’t walk in a straight line.
An arm went around his waist. Steadied him. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“No.” He went to shove away from Carla, but she proved stronger than expected. She kept him anchored and guided him up the stairs to her room, then dumped him on her mattress.
He glared at her, lacking the coordination to rise. “Why?” A word that barely made it past his sluggish lips.
“I had to be sure you weren’t working against me, especially once I found out that you were ex-military.”