Begin Reading
Table of Contents
About the Author
Copyright Page
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
To the sixteen students who comprised my seventh-hour Novel class. As I taught you, I taught myself and this book is better because of it. I will always remember you all: Lucas Bayne, Skye Bradley, Gina Bryant, Paris Carter, Taylor Cathcart, Sydney Clark, Carly Harper, Jennifer Lippert, Ryan Nguyen, Brendan Pinz, Emelia Robertson, Kirsten Sample, Hannah Sieker, Payton Wilson, Kelli Woods, and Taylor Wyatt.
To all those who serve in our Armed Forces, thank you for your dedication, especially Christos Tsiaklides and his wonderful wife Rachel, who stands by his side. Finally, to AWOLNATION who created the most kick-ass song ever with “Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)” that literally became the soundtrack in my head.
Acknowledgments
When creating a work of fiction, authors embellish. We bend reality in order to develop the world in which our characters live. I’d like to thank both Christa Martell for her military insight and Michael Eisenbeis for his firefighter expertise. Any errors or liberties taken are mine.
Prologue
The sun wasn’t supposed to be shining on days like this. Rain would have been better—big, dark and stormy rain clouds would at least match Brad’s anger and ire. Hard-slapping raindrops would also hide any slip of emotion, although men stoic in their Navy dress blues didn’t shed tears. Yet the fight to hold them back was one of the hardest-fought battles of his life. A seagull took flight, finding his friends so they could play on the warm ocean breeze that blew across Coronado and made its way gently across the bay to San Diego. The breeze made the mid-eighties day perfectly palatable. Already Todd’s elderly parents had been waiting over forty minutes for the Navy chaplain to begin the service, but Father Joseph couldn’t begin until the casket arrived.
That was still a hundred yards away, being slowly carried along the assigned route.
Brad stood at attention, sweating under the dark uniform that locked in the heat. He waited at the end of the line, the pallbearers made up of the current members of Todd’s SEAL team, a role Brad had forfeited when he’d turned down the promotion. Brad had opted out once his six-year enlistment had ended. Todd had signed back up without any hesitation or backward glances. There’d been no talking him out of staying a SEAL. Less than a year later, his best friend was dead.
Brad could still remember the conversation the night he left for St. Louis, both he and Todd in the local bar, sharing a pitcher of beer over several games of pool. Todd was between overseas deployments, training for the mission ahead.
“You were finally going to be on my team. The guys and I were ready for it.” Todd had taken a deep drink of the sudsy draft. Brad could still picture how he’d had to wipe his lip of the foam.
“Couldn’t do it,” Brad admitted. “I wish you’d followed me out.”
“Thought about it. But I’m not cut out for civilian life. My country needs me.”
“Scarlett needs you. She loves you.”
“Yeah. But trust me, she understands.” Todd drank more beer. Turned serious. “I need you to do me a solid. A favor. I’m shipping out in a few weeks.”
On the same mission Brad would also have been on, had he stayed. “Anything, man. What are friends for?”
“Good. I know I can trust you. You’ve always had my back. Got a letter. For Scarlett. Should something happen. Gonna snail mail it to you. I hope you’ll never need it, but if you do, give it to her when the time’s right.”
Scarlett. Todd’s wife. Brad’s secret high school crush. But once Todd had called dibs, that had been that. Brad had stood as best man at Todd and Scarlett’s wedding. Tried to forget how he felt about her. Told himself that thinking he was in love with her was nothing but a stupid obsession. A weakness to overcome. Something that would change when he found “the one.” Only the one had never shown up, and his feelings hadn’t changed. No woman compared.
The breeze shifted and Brad ignored the discomfort of standing at attention this long. On missions, he’d sat quiet and still for hours, but this was different and the pain was wearing him down. He’d received the package a few weeks after that night in the bar, and inside was a sealed envelope addressed to Scarlett, along with some handwritten, one-page notes addressed to Brad upon which Todd had scrawled his last wishes—detailed instructions that Brad would now follow with military precision.
The honor guard carrying the casket came into sight. Behind, Scarlett walked, her certain step and emotionless expression designed to hide her grief. Brad could hear the thumps now, the sound of metal hitting the top of the casket as each of Todd’s naval brethren removed his trident and set the metal badge atop the casket. The rhythmic thumping got louder as the casket came closer. “There’s Mommy,” he heard Todd’s two-year-old daughter say. She was too young to fully understand what was going on and too small to walk the distance. “Shh,” Todd’s mother soothed, holding Colleen tight.
Brad straightened further as the trident-covered casket came within his reach. The pallbearers slowed, and with a thump, Brad added his own trident. Then they went past and up onto the dais, where dignitaries waited to honor the life of a SEAL gone too soon, but one whose heroic actions had saved the lives in his unit. Like precision clockwork, everyone moved into place and the service started.
Brad had seen Scarlett briefly last night after he’d flown in from St. Louis, their hometown. Normally Todd would be buried there, but Scarlett had relayed those weren’t his wishes. Instead, inside the rental casket was an urn containing his ashes. His gaze caught hers, and he shot the full force of his sympathy toward her. She was a proud woman, Todd had warned in the missives he’d sent. She would resist all outside help. But Todd had given Brad a job. Thought his best friend could somehow succeed in helping when others failed, as Todd clearly believed they would.
Brad stared at the casket, at Todd’s weeping parents, and at the drained, sad face of Todd’s wife. Scarlett. No amount of telling her he was sorry would help now. He had to complete the mission as assigned.
He owed it to his friend.
He owed it to his friend’s daughter.
And he especially owed it to Scarlett.
The fact they were here today was entirely his fault.
Chapter One
The truth was, despite what all the songs said, including that one by Bon Jovi that really stuck in your head, you really couldn’t go home again. Certainly, you could drive down the same streets. However, because time had marched on, nothing was exactly the same. Old buildings were torn down, replaced with something new. Others were repainted. Reroofed. Even that same road had been widened. Potholes filled. Stoplights stood where stop signs once sufficed. Some shops closed and others took their place.
As Scarlett Harrison exited Highway 44 (pronounced farty-farty by the locals), she turned right and drove her aged Prius down Grand. She hadn’t returned to St. Louis in ten years, and found the trees along
the Compton Reservoir barren, the park silent except for the one random jogger who braved the February midday chill and one homeless man who sat on a park bench wrapped in a threadbare blanket, his bag of possessions by his feet. She moved into the far left lane, already missing California and its sunshine and warmth. The groundhog had clearly seen his shadow yesterday, for winter didn’t want to give up its fervent grip on the Midwest. Thankfully St. Louis hadn’t been hit like Boston, with record snowfall.
Victor Street—wasn’t that name ironic—marked the end of her eighteen-hundred-mile journey, one she’d driven over the last four days. She’d closed on her and Todd’s starter house the last day of January, and taken off, staying in a hotel three nights as she plodded her way back across the country. She’d tried to make it fun for Colleen, making sure they saw some of America’s greatest wonders on the way, like the Grand Canyon.
Scarlett’s journey had really started approximately two years ago, when the two uniformed Naval officers had shown up unannounced on her doorstep. She’d fallen to the concrete stoop, her hands clutching the metal railing. They didn’t need to utter a word; she’d known why they’d come, and that what they would tell her would change her life forever.
Next came the funeral support team, and they’d become her navigators through the myriad of overwhelming arrangements. They’d stayed with her throughout the military service for her husband, who’d been her high school sweetheart. The only man she’d ever dated or loved. Oh, she’d tried to be strong. She’d tried to hold everything together, especially for her daughter Colleen’s sake. Her parents had flown out. Todd’s parents had flown out. She’d slept in the funeral home next to the flag-covered coffin, refusing to leave, even though all that was inside was an urn containing his ashes. She’d stood silent, sobs exhausted, as the honor guard folded that same flag into a tight triangle and placed it in her trembling hands. Later, after everyone had left the service, all she’d had left of her marriage was a flag and an urn. Her husband. Her future. Reduced to this.
She sighed and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in a poor attempt to keep in sync with the radio. On Todd’s final mission, his actions had saved sixteen people, although she knew little more than that, whatever it had been was still classified. But top military brass had shaken her hand. Told her Todd was a hero. Hundreds had shown up to pay their respects. He’d sacrificed himself, they’d said, and she had the commendations he’d never see to prove his heroism. Those medals, along with that same American flag, rode with her luggage in the back, underneath the protective trunk cover that hid the contents out of sight. Yet they were little comfort.
Not even on Grand a minute or two, and immediately before she reached Tower Grove Park, she made a left onto Shenandoah, an immediate right on Arkansas one block down, and then another hard right into the alley directly before Victor. The house that Brad owned was a few down from the corner, although because of all the garages lining the narrow one-way alley, all she could see were rooflines. The last time she’d seen Brad was at Todd’ service. They’d known each other since high school, with Brad standing in as the best man at her and Todd’s Vegas wedding, one month after high school graduation and right before both men had shipped out to the Navy for basic training.
Later, both had gone through BUD/S together, but afterward had parted ways—Brad to SEAL Team Seven, and Todd to the famed SEAL Team Six. Brad had done one enlistment and given up the promotion that would have sent him to Todd’s unit, considered one of the Navy’s finest. Todd told her he’d really thought Brad would reenlist, like he had. That he looked forward to their working together. She knew Todd had been accepting of Brad’s decision to opt out, but that he’d also been severely disappointed.
“Mommy? Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” Scarlett called back to her four-year-old daughter. Seat belted into her booster, Colleen had been a trouper the entire trip, which had for the most part meant watching endless movies on the DVR-and-TV combo looped over the passenger seat, or by taking long naps, or by stretching her legs by climbing in fast-food restaurant playlands during their forty-five-minute pit stops.
Scarlett glanced in the rearview mirror. Colleen hugged her doll and craned her neck so she could peer out the window. Red hair like her mother’s had escaped her pigtails. “Will my bed be there by now?” her daughter asked.
“Yes. Granny and Grandpa said the truck arrived yesterday and everything is already unpacked.” Well, everything but the boxes. Those she’d do herself. “So your bed should be ready.”
Colleen had inherited Scarlett’s eyes and those pale green orbs widened. “Mommy, are those snowflakes? Will I get to see snow? Maybe play in it?”
“Yes, they are and yes, you will,” Scarlett confirmed, managing a smile as a few flurries fluttered by. To a child, a first snowfall was special. Exciting. Magical. For an adult, it meant she and Colleen had gotten lucky. Despite the sky being a grisly gray for the last four hundred miles, the third day of February snow had held off, but by tomorrow St. Louis was expecting a good three to six inches. They’d arrived just in time. She shivered despite the heater running full blast. Time to go.
She pressed the power button, shutting down the car in front of the doors to an oversized two-car garage with living quarters on top.
“Is this our house?” Colleen asked. “And can I unclip?”
“You may unclip,” Scarlett corrected as her daughter released the seat belt. “We have to go through the yard for our house. This is where Brad lives.”
“Brad, whose house we are renting,” Colleen said, her statement designed to elicit her mom’s confirmation.
“Yes. He and your daddy were good friends. Remember? I showed you the picture?”
Colleen nodded. “They were wearing a blue uniform.”
“Yes. They were in the Navy together.”
“They were handsome. Winnie thought so too.” Winnie was a red-haired American Girl doll and Colleen’s constant companion. Todd’s parents had sent it last Christmas.
“Definitely,” Scarlett agreed.
They’d been gorgeous men, even back in high school. When many male freshmen went through an awkward, geeky phase, both Brad and Todd had skipped it. Todd had been the golden boy. Blond hair worn shaggy. Blue eyes that twinkled mischievously. A wide grin that went for miles and made you feel totally safe and loved. When his hair had been buzzed for the military, all the cut had done was accentuate high cheekbones and make him even sexier.
Then there was Brad. He’d been Mr. Serious. Taller. Darker hair, the color of milk chocolate. Deep brown eyes that held an underlying intensity every time he gazed at her. He had an edge to him, the bad boy mothers warned their daughters about.
She was attracted to him back then, even before she really understood what that meant. His long glances in her direction made her lose her breath and feel things that she hadn’t felt before. She felt wild and silly at the same time. There was a connection between them and it got the best of her one day when Brad had kissed her beneath the school staircase, hours before Todd had asked her out. She pressed the pads of her first two fingers to her lips. Thought back, but the front-end details were fuzzy. She knew she’d dropped her math textbook, and they’d knocked heads as both had reached for it. She’d seen stars, and he’d held her close to steady her, and then kissed her. Had her toes tingled? What she did remember clearly was that something had flashed in his eyes, and then he’d pulled away and left her standing there. Two hours later Todd had called and asked her out. She liked Todd—he was easygoing and made her laugh, but her lips still tingled from the kiss beneath the stairs. She’d asked Todd one question before she’d said yes. “What does Brad think?” Todd had answered, “He thinks it’s a great idea.”
And that had been that. The kiss became an irrelevant secret—a momentary aberration.
“Mommy?” Colleen caught her mom’s gaze through the mirror. The seat belt snapped back into place after being released, and the whoo
shing noise jolted Scarlett into the present and out of her reverie. “I need to go potty.”
“Me too.” Scarlett climbed out, opened the back door and lifted her daughter from the car seat. Carried her through the wooden privacy fence gate, down a short brick path and up the steps to a small covered porch, where she set her down.
“I could have walked, Mom. I’m a big girl now,” Colleen told her.
“This was faster.” Scarlett set her down and lifted the mat, retrieving the key that had been placed there earlier this morning before Brad had left for a twenty-four-hour shift with the St. Louis Fire Department. She unlocked the door. Stepped inside. Gasped. The place was huge. Immaculate. Way beyond her price range with what little the annuity paid out each month.
Scarlett jolted her mom back to attention. “Potty, Mommy.”
“This way.” She quickly located the half bath just off a white, custom kitchen that looked like a picture in Architectural Digest. Got her daughter on the toilet in the nick of time. Held her up afterward so she could wash her hands in a custom marble sink with designer brass fixtures. They’d have to get a stool, she noted.
“It’s big,” Colleen commented, glancing around as they reentered the kitchen. “Is this a castle?”
“No,” Scarlett replied, although it felt like it. “It’s just a historic house. That means it’s old.”
Colleen reached up and touched the lower stainless steel wall oven. “Everything’s shiny. It doesn’t look old.”
Scarlett had to agree. Back in San Diego, the house she’d finally sold had aging vinyl floors, slightly yellowing white appliances and linoleum countertops that had seen far better days. Here the kitchen boasted speckled gray-and-white granite counters. Shiny eighteen-inch darker gray travertine tile covered the floor. A ten-by-six-foot granite countertop topped a huge kitchen island. There were two stainless steel wall ovens. A deep three-part sink with one of those tall, hose faucets. A six-burner Viking gas stove. “No, I guess this kitchen doesn’t look old at all.”
Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) Page 1