Garrett wasn’t about to mention to Parker that the last time he spoke to Milo, he barely recognized his best friend’s voice. Milo had always been a jokester, a happy guy who never failed to make him laugh by saying something stupid. Garrett couldn’t remember ever having a really serious discussion with him - until that phone call. Milo was scared. And he had told Garrett that if something happened to him, it wouldn’t be an accident. Milo had ended the cryptic phone call before Garrett could grill him on what the hell he had been talking about.
He had known damn well Milo’s death wasn’t an accident, but it certainly hadn't been the time to tell Parker. She didn’t need one more thing to worry about. He would handle it on his own and hopefully never have to involve her.
Standing there in front of Garrett right then, it hit her that he'd been keeping things from her—very important things.
The fact that she had her own secrets, her own little white lies she weaved into every day conversation to keep the truth from those she loved, didn’t matter. That was different. She didn’t have a choice.
“What do you mean when you first heard about it? How long have you known this might be a possibility?” she demanded.
Garrett looked away, unable to stand the anguish in her voice and on her face knowing that what he said next would only make it worse.
“I found out they were planning on looking into the mission five months ago.”
After several long, quiet minutes, Garrett finally looked at her and didn't like what he saw. She was pissed. At him.
"Don't. Don't do this, Parker. You know damn well there is information that as a civilian, you aren't privy to."
"Fuck you, Garrett!" Parker spat. "I'm not just some civilian. I'm your best friend and he was my..."
Parker trailed off and the sound of the ocean waves just below her condo echoed around them.
"Say it," Garrett growled. He moved closer to her. Every time he was near her, he forgot what they were to each other for just a brief moment. Garrett needed her to punch him back to reality with a good swift kick to the proverbial nuts.
"The love of your life, the man you were going to marry...finish the sentence, Parker."
She clenched her hands into fists, so angry she could scream. She should just say what he wants to hear and wipe that smug look off his face, but she couldn't.
Garrett did this to her all the time. He pushed and then he pulled back. He got close and then he walked away. He was hot and cold and she never knew which end was up or where she stood with him.
Parker loved Milo, but not like she should have. She never called him the love of her life, and it would feel foreign to do so now that he was gone. People liked to glorify the relationship they had with someone after they were gone. They liked to make it sound better than it actually was, maybe to ease the pain in their heart and keep the memory of that person alive. The death of Milo had the opposite effect on Parker. Now that he was gone, all of their differences, all of their problems, and every time he caused her pain became glaringly obvious.
Parker took a step back from Garrett, and he wanted to hit something. He hated that he had to be a dick to her right now but it was necessary.
He never told her that he always had suspicions about Milo’s death, and it was a shitty move telling her it was classified information. She wasn’t an idiot, and she wouldn’t buy it for a minute, but he didn’t know what else to do.
"Have you been suspicious all this time? Every time you told me I shouldn’t worry about it, were you lying to me? You think you're just going to fly out there and get all the answers and that will make everything better? It's not going to bring him back, Garrett."
"I know that. Don't you think I fucking know that?” Garrett yelled. “I want the truth. I want to know that whoever did this to him is going to pay. I want to stop going to bed every night feeling guilty I wasn't fucking there for him when he needed me."
Parker instantly curbed her anger. Garrett lost his best friend, the one person that had been by his side since he was nine years old. She couldn't be mad at him for wanting to know why he was gone and for doing everything in his power to get answers. It hurt her that he had never told her he didn’t believe the “accidental death” explanation, but if she was being honest with herself, there were plenty of things she had been keeping from Garrett as well.
"It's not your fault, Garrett, any more than it is mine.”
Garrett didn't say anything to that. He may not have been the one to set off the bomb that killed Milo, but it didn’t ease his guilt or take away his feelings of failure.
"So how long will you be gone?" Parker asked softly, looking up into his face and wrapping her arms around herself.
Garrett felt his nerves instantly calm when he saw Parker’s anger had been replaced with concern.
Garrett reached out and rubbed his hands up and down her arms to warm her skin.
"As long as it takes.”
Garrett received intel that Milo had several meetings with the leader of the Dominican Republic, President Fernandez, the last couple of days before he died. He was going in under the guise of a reporter for Fox News to interview the President about all of his philanthropic accomplishments. Garrett wanted to dig deeper into the mission that killed his best friend by gaining access to information they didn’t have in the states. There were rumors that not all of the President’s business dealings were legal, and Garrett had a gut feeling the man would know something about what happened to Milo.
Parker shivered but not from the chill in the air. Garrett's hands on her skin always did that to her. His hands encircled her arms and when he touched her, she always felt small and protected.
“At least I’ll get to brush up on my interviewing skills,” he said with a smirk. He knew he shouldn’t have divulged that information, but it was a small detail that wouldn’t affect the mission. He had to give her something.
"Wow, interviewing, huh? Did you even make it to any of your journalism classes senior year of college?" Parker teased.
Garrett gave her a heart-stopping smile, and she knew things were going to be okay between them. They were back to their usual friendly banter.
"What did I need to show up to class for when I had you to do my homework?"
Parker just shook her head at him and rolled her eyes.
"You would have never passed that class if it wasn't for me. You’re lucky I liked you or I would have made you fend for yourself," she laughed.
"Blasphemy! You would have never been so cruel," Garrett teased. “I am a computer genius; you’re the one with the mad literary and public speaking skills. It would have been a crime if you didn’t help me.”
Parker unhooked her hands from around her waist and placed her palms flat on Garrett's chest. The heat of his skin through his shirt and the feel of his heart beating against her hand was so familiar but still had the ability to make her breath catch.
"You better come back to me," Parker whispered softly.
Garrett's heart beat furiously inside his chest, and he knew she could feel it. He only hoped she chalked it up to nerves about the mission and not about how her words affected him.
Parker knew what she said could be taken two ways but she didn't care. She just wanted him safe and whole and alive when this was all over.
The weight of her words hung heavily in the air between them. The ringing of Garrett's phone broke the spell, and he let go of his grip on her arms to reach for the clip on his belt to retrieve his phone.
"McCarthy," Garrett answered curtly.
He stared into Parker's eyes while he listened to his CO on the other end of the line tell him about a glitch in the mission already.
It turned out their Navy photographer, Petty Officer First Class Sasha Mitchell, was injured on her ship that morning before she was supposed to fly in from Greece. Sasha was going to pose as Garrett's co-worker and lover for this mission. Under normal circumstances, the co-worker cover would have been enough. But the Dom
inican frowned on working women unless they were accompanied by their husband. They needed a photographer who could sneak into areas with the team and acquire the photographic evidence they needed. Sasha was the Navy’s best photographer and had been on several under cover missions, not to mention she was fluent in Spanish. She had been the perfect woman for the job and now Garrett was going to have to deal with a last-minute replacement that wasn’t going to be as efficient.
Garrett hung up the phone and pulled away from Parker. He was irritated that something was already screwed up and he hadn’t even left California yet.
Parker asked Garrett what the phone call was about, and he made the mistake of telling her. He should have known that as soon as the words, "our photographer can't do the mission,” left his mouth, a light bulb would go off in her head.
Parker felt the old familiar bubble of excitement in the pit of her stomach as she listened to Garrett. It was the same one she always got when a new assignment was given to her or when she stood in the quiet blackness of her darkroom and waited for a photo to develop.
That feeling had been dormant for the past six months while she was on her leave of absence but now it was back. She wouldn't have to worry about Garrett because she could be there with him every step of the way. She wouldn't have to sit back doing nothing, wasting her life away every single day just waiting for another knock on her door.
Garrett stopped his manic pacing when he realized Parker had been unusually quiet the last several minutes. When he turned to face her and saw the determination and excitement written all over her face he wanted to throw up.
Garrett started to shake his head before he even opened his mouth.
"No. Absolutely not, Parker. You can just erase whatever stupid-ass idea is floating around in that head of yours right now."
Parker took his words as a challenge and put her hands on her hips, mustering all of the attitude she possessed. She looked sexy as hell when she was like that―eyes filled with fire and determination, confidence practically exploding out of her. Garrett had to recite baseball facts in his head to make his dick calm down.
"Sorry, McCarthy, but you do not have monopoly on stupid decisions. Why is it okay for you to do this and not me? I want to find out the truth just as much as you do, and I’m the best photographer there is."
Garrett stared at her like she had a second head growing out of her neck.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm trained for this. This is what I do. I go into dangerous situations and I get a job done. You're a photographer. You lie around on beaches and climb trees and take pretty pictures. You travel first class, stay in luxury hotels, and drink champagne with your editors. You have no idea what it's like out there in a strange land with people who don't follow the same rules as you. You wouldn’t know what the fuck to do in a dangerous situation if your life depended on it. And it would, little one."
Garrett knew the dig about her job was a low blow, and once again, he hated what he was doing to her. He also knew calling her “little one” would have the same effect as if he’d just called her a baby. It was the only way he knew how to protect her, though. He'd rather she hate him than ever put her life in danger.
Garrett waited for the explosion to come. He waited for a kick to the balls or a smack across the face but it never game. Several long minutes passed where neither of them spoke and the silence made Garrett nervous.
"You're right, Garrett. You're absolutely right. It was silly of me to even suggest such a thing. I don't know what I was thinking," Parker replied calmly, a serene smile on her face that was obviously forced.
"Thank you for a lovely dinner. Give me a call when your plane lands. You know, if you're not in too much danger or anything and it's not too much trouble."
Garrett didn’t miss the sarcasm dripping from her voice. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He could deal with Parker’s anger; he could even deal with her hatred. But he absolutely could not handle the dejection that was all over her face.
Parker's usually warm lips were ice cold on his face, and he instantly missed her heat. This went a whole lot further than being pissed at him. She was hurt beyond belief, and if he didn't absolutely believe with every fiber of his being that he was doing the right thing to keep her safe, he would drop down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.
Instead, Garrett let her walk away. He watched her walk up the sidewalk to her front door and listened to her heels click against the cement. It took everything inside him not to run after her, wrap his arms around her, and kiss away the misery that he’d put on her beautiful face.
He would make this up to Parker. He would work his ass off to find out the truth for her.
Maybe then she would forgive him.
<> ~ <>
After Parker walked into her condo and threw her purse across the room, the contents smashing against the wall and spilling to the floor, she sunk down to the carpet in a heap of tears and frustration. After she got it all out of her system, she remembered who she was, who she’d been for eight years, and everything she’d gone through. She angrily swiped at the tears that stained her cheeks and picked herself up off of the floor.
Parker had no intention of giving up without a fight. She had never been a doormat for anyone, and she wasn’t about to start now. This was what she was trained for, what she was good at. She had a moment of guilt that she was going behind Garrett's back, but it served him right for belittling her like that. Parker knew damn well he only said those things to piss her off and stop her from putting herself in danger, but it didn’t matter.
In just a few words, he managed to rip her heart into pieces and make her feel like a fool. He knew exactly what to say to cut her to the core.
Parker never regretted the decision she had made eight years ago. She was alone, had no direction, and desperately needed something to save her from making choices that would inevitably ruin her life. She accepted her fate and did what she had to do to survive.
“I just need an answer, Miss Parker. Yes or no. It’s that simple.”
It turned out nothing was ever simple where her life was concerned. She never expected to meet Garrett and Milo a month later or how their friendship would turn her life upside down and inside out. It was difficult trying to be two different people for so long but it was necessary. She would never put the ones she loved in danger because they knew the truth about her.
Right then, though, it broke her heart that she had never been able to be completely honest with Garrett.
She dialed the number she still had written on the fridge from when Milo was still alive and had a moment of panic when it started to ring.
Garrett was going to be pissed that she didn't listen to him. And he was going to hate her when he found out what she’d been keeping from him since the day they met.
The voice on the other end of the line made Parker realize there was no turning back now. With one phone call, she was going to irrevocably change her and Garrett's lives forever.
Chapter Four
Garrett tossed and turned all night long thinking about Parker. The look on her face before she walked away from him haunted his dreams until he finally got up out of bed and went to Base two hours before his scheduled briefing.
He picked up the phone at least thirty times during those two hours to call Parker and apologize only to hang right back up. He had no idea what the hell he would say to her, but he knew he needed to do something before he left. Garrett could never go on this mission with Parker mad at him. He hated himself for keeping her in the dark with his suspicions, but he honestly believed he was doing it for her own good.
Garrett glanced at his watch and realized he only had a few minutes until his meeting with his commanding officer, his team, and whatever Navy photographer they were able to find last minute. He just hoped this woman had experience, and he wouldn’t need to babysit her the entire time. Garrett had more important things to do than to keep an eye on a green Petty Officer and keep
her head from getting blown off. She damn well better be able to keep herself out of trouble.
On his way down the hall to the conference room, Garrett called Parker’s cell phone but it went directly to voicemail. He felt like a chicken shit for leaving a message on her cell instead of talking to her in person, but maybe it would be easier that way.
“Parker, I’m sorry about what happened last night. I’m sorry I kept my suspicions from you. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You and I both know how much of a dick I am, so do I really need to apologize for all the other things I said? You know I didn’t mean them to come out the way they did. Take care of yourself, and I’ll call you when I land.”
Garrett hung up the phone, pleased with the message he left, and walked into the conference room where his CO, Captain Matt Risner, was already waiting for him.
“Lieutenant McCarthy, have a seat. We’re just waiting on the rest of your team to get here.”
Garrett took a seat directly across from Captain Risner and a few minutes later they were joined by three men, all of whom Garrett had worked with in the past—all good men and all friends of his and Milo’s. Garrett trusted these men, and he was glad to be working with them again, even if it was under these circumstances.
“First Class Petty Officers Conrad and Vargas and Chief Marshall, you’re all acquainted with Lieutenant McCarthy so no introductions are necessary, is that correct?" the blond, middle-aged man asked as the newcomers all took a seat around the table. His hazel eyes, accented by the fine lines of aging at the corners, took each of them in.
The four men nodded and replied with a respectful, "Yes, sir.”
"In front of all of you is the dossier for this assignment. McCarthy will be the Officer in Charge as soon as you land on Dominican soil. He and his partner will be posing as a reporter slash photographer in order to gain access into the President's home. The rest of you will be there under the guise of a camera crew for Fox News,” Risner explained as he pulled his six foot, five inch frame out of his seat and walked over to the computer Smart Board hanging on the south east wall of the room. “Your passports and press clearances will be waiting for you on the plane along with your background information. I want weekly status reports on my desk every Friday. McCarthy will have all of the information in his packet to access a secure internet and telephone line that cannot be traced.”
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