Accidental Shield: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  “Since my accident?”

  “Nope. No ships have turned up missing that recently, though there have been some shady shipments moving in and out of King Heron facilities around Pearl City,” I say.

  I’m sure they’ve throttled back on sending more ships out to sea loaded with illicit cargo, into potential crossfire from rival groups. Not while they’re hunting her to make damn sure she can’t squeal.

  “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she asks, almost reading my thoughts. “They don’t know who I’ve told about them, if Ray thinks I was working with the police. Unless he said something, they don’t know about the amnesia.”

  Bingo.

  Too bad they’re catching up fast.

  And the bastards are still behind us now very literally, closing in.

  “Should we contact the police? The Coast Guard? Tell them what I do know? What I remember?”

  “We don’t have any hard evidence, babe.” My eyes flick from the SUV in the mirrors to her, trying not to freak her out. “We’re missing the full story. Until we get clues or you recall something truly damning, we’re stuck on half empty.”

  She sighs. “You’re right. We don’t know, so the police wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

  “No, and scumbags like these have tendrils going deep. Police, government, you name it. If we do get a solid lead, we’ve got to make sure it gets to the right person—somewhere that isn’t compromised.” Tiring of this cat and mouse game, I say, “Check your seatbelt for me. Make sure it’s buckled.”

  Val looks down. “Yup. All strapped in. Why?”

  She notices my eyes are glued to the rear-view mirror.

  “Just trust me, and don’t turn around,” I growl.

  Her expression goes numb. “Jesus. Are we being followed, Flint?”

  “We’ll find out real soon. Hang on.” I press down on the gas, pushing my truck faster.

  The speed limits are notoriously low in Hawaii. I’m well over thirty-five miles per hour now.

  I’ve got two options: either head through the next town, where speeding like this could pose a real risk of causing an accident, or take the next turn off the unpaved road flanked with tall, wild grass. An organic farming zone, I’m pretty sure, judging by the KEEP THE COUNTRY COUNTRY signs, plus some abandoned military digs.

  “What’re we going to do?” she asks, worry creeping into her voice.

  “There’s a road up here that goes past some old military ruins. Ordinance bunkers and shit they used around World War II. More like a path than a true road, I guess, so hang on tight.” It also goes through the Watershed Forest Reserve, which means lighter traffic.

  “But if it’s just a path...won’t we be in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Don’t worry. It goes all the way through, comes out south of the big blowhole. Bryce and I have taken ATVs down here before.”

  “Um, this truck is way bigger than an ATV.”

  “Sure is. That’s why we’re gonna haul some major ass. Hold on,” I say, pinching a sharp right onto a gravel road.

  The SUV barely makes the corner behind me.

  Then they hit the gas, flying up on my bumper, trying to ram us.

  I slam my gas pedal to the floor and speed on, kicking up so much gravel I can barely see them behind us. The road is rough; we’re both bouncing in our seats like ping pong balls, but I keep my foot down on the pedal, letting up only when a corner gets so tight, so treacherous, I have to slow down.

  The SUV fishtails every now and then, but keeps close behind us.

  Exactly what I want.

  There’s a double set of S-curves a couple miles ahead, and this little trench that floods, almost turning into a small marsh. After the rain we had last night, I’m sure it’s still drenched.

  “Flint! It’s not just one. I see two behind us now,” she says, her voice frozen over.

  “I know.” I keep my voice dead calm, hoping it’ll rub off on her. “The second car’s on our side.”

  We go clattering up the next stretch of road, virtually on the grass and mud now, so there isn’t any dust.

  “Well, in that case, let’s have some fun.” She twists in her seat, waving at the SUV behind us.

  I have to chuckle to myself, then tell her, “Careful. We’ve got some sharp fucking corners ahead.”

  “Ready!” She plants herself against the back of the seat, gripping the center console and oh, shit handle hanging above the window.

  I slow down for the first curve, just to confuse the SUV driver.

  Let them think they have a chance.

  A second later, I whip us around the next bend, and the next, and right before going into the tightest one yet, I punch my brakes.

  Wait.

  Then pour on the gas and wrench the wheel, flinging us around the curve.

  Shit works beautifully.

  The SUV behind us slams on their brakes, but hits the gas too soon, thinking they can nail us.

  It doesn’t work.

  The fucks go careening off the road, and after being air-bound for several seconds, plop right down in the middle of the trench, sinking in the muck.

  “Holy...did you see that?”

  Val’s chest rises and falls like she’s been sped up. She’s some mad, flushed mix of laughing and clapping, holding up her hand for a high five.

  “I saw. I was the asshole who did it, honey.”

  I slap her hand, check the rear-view mirror, and make sure my guy’s still following us. He only slows down to get a good look at the other pricks, probably well into struggling out of their half-submerged SUV by now and figuring out where to run.

  “That was so cool!” Val gushes, totally high on the rush.

  I laugh. “Now you sound like Bryce.”

  “Guess I see what he means about you going into action.” She snickers, covering her mouth.

  I flinch inwardly, wanting to tell her it’s not all fun and games, not this simple, but hell.

  It’s the most excited I’ve seen her, the most empowered. I don’t want to spoil the afterglow.

  She chatters on about seeing the SUV in her side mirror flying through the air, and how fun it was driving around the S-curves until we hit the highway.

  There’s a drive-up place in the next town over with decent food, so we stop there and eat in the truck. It’s simple Hawaiian fare, kalua pork plates with white rice and mac salad.

  She has a pineapple smoothie that damn near has her moaning. I do iced coffee with a splash of vanilla and macadamia flavor.

  Before we’re finished, Davis, texts to confirm the route home is clear, so we carry on.

  It’s a bit awkward without Bryce.

  He was my security measure, helping keep my distance from Val. Without him, I feel the tension deepen, this lethal cocktail of adrenaline, uncertainty, and want.

  Worst part is, she’s looking at me like I just swept her off her feet.

  Look, I know damn well nobody ever said this hero stuff was easy.

  I’m used to happy parents and spouses and grateful bigwigs sobbing their gratitude or pinning a shiny new medal on my dress uniform.

  I’m used to the relief that comes from a job well done.

  I’m used to my son smiling up at me when I do something worthy of being superdad for the day.

  What I’m not used to? A chick as sexy and irresistible as Valerie Gerard eyeballing me like I just hung the stars.

  I’m working my balls off to keep her out of trouble, but apparently, saving her from Cornaro’s minions means she’s closer to getting herself in real deep with me.

  I hate this fucking paradox.

  * * *

  I spend some time roaming the house, making sure the security system is set up and fully armed, texting other team members.

  Anything else I can think of to keep a safe distance from the girl who keeps looking at my lips like they’re part ripe strawberry. All while keeping an eye on her, though.

  She’s on her phone, looking a
t her social media accounts, relaxing after sundown on the lanai with another tall glass of that mango tea.

  When the clock finally strikes ten, I’m thankful and suggest we go to bed. She agrees and heads upstairs.

  I take a shower and climb into bed, convinced I won’t fall asleep.

  Eventually, I do. Because when my eyes snap open, I’m groggy. It takes a second to realize what just woke me.

  Screams.

  I leap out of bed and run, bursting through the house and up the stairs. Barely remember to tuck my gun into my waistband.

  Throwing open the door, I half expect to find some intruder piece of shit in her room, trying to take her, but no. She’s alone, in the bed, thrashing and crying.

  “Val? Valerie?” I don’t want to do more harm than good, so I’m cautious when I cross the room, saying her name repeatedly.

  The screaming stops, but she’s still flinging herself around lightly when I touch her arm. “Valerie. Val, wake up, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

  She goes still, blinking up at me. “F-Flint?”

  “The one and only.” I sink down on the bed, pulling the gun out and shoving it in the nightstand drawer. “You’re here with me. Everything’s just fine.”

  She wraps her arms around me. “Oh, Flint, they were trying to kill me. I-I was hiding. They found me. Pulled me out of the closet. Savanny was so afraid, I could barely hold him. He was bowed up and hissing and scratching and—”

  “Shhh,” I say, hugging her body close. “It was just a dream. A damn nightmare. Savanny’s right here.”

  I reach for the end of the bed, moving her foot over gently so she touches the cat. The beast looks up and purrs, rubbing his long ears against her heel.

  “Oh, that tickles!” Her laugh is pure music, and too short-lived. “It was so real, Flint. Scary real.”

  “I know. I’ve had a few dreams like that.” Easing my hold, I say, “Here, lie back down. Settle in. You need me to bring you anything?”

  “How about you?” She tightens her hold, folding her little hands tight around my shoulders. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I lie down, then pull her down with me. “Just close your eyes, Val. Relax.”

  Her head falls to my chest, and I can feel it as her breathing eases, growing calmer.

  Unable to resist, I kiss the top of her head. “That’s it. Just sleep, baby girl.”

  “It was real,” she whispers. “So real.”

  “That’s how bad dreams always are.” I tell her, with plenty of experience. “Something in our brains just loves to cook up the worst bullshit, using ugly memories for source material.”

  She snuggles her cheek against my chest. “Thanks for being here, for helping me.”

  I should say it’s nothing, it’s easy, but my body reacts like a tethered bull to her being this close, this soft, this warm.

  Fucking Aye.

  It takes every bleeding bit of my focus to keep things platonic, even when I hold her against me, whispering how safe she is, and we drift through the long, dark night together.

  13

  Birds of a Feather (Valerie)

  I’m awake in bed, staring at the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains, searching my mind.

  It’s full to bursting with memories. Scary freaking memories, but I’m not afraid.

  Kind of impossible when I’m wrapped up in a big, powerful, gold-hearted lion of a man.

  Flint lays beside me, his arms still curled around my body. I see the eagle tattoo on his arm in the dawn light. The bird looks fierce, clutching a trident, forever poised to strike, this fierce reflection of the beast-man it belongs to.

  My head rests on his chest like it’s meant to be there. Has been for hours, ever since he came upstairs in the middle of the night to banish my nightmares.

  I thought I’d still been dreaming, honestly.

  Maybe so. Or maybe I just can’t tell where the nightmares end and the actual memories begin. Not after the deluge last night.

  It’s all becoming crystal clear.

  So many things.

  “You awake?” he asks quietly, shifting next to me.

  I nod softly, turning to flash him a shy smile. Only a thousand butterflies take flight in my belly when I glimpse those shining eyes of his in bed, half lidded and kind and wickedly sexy.

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know. Feels like a while,” I say with a sigh.

  “Thought so. Long as you got some decent shut-eye...”

  I lift up my head, looking at him, this amazing man who’s been with me every step of the way through this mindless living hell that’s become my life. The only life I’ve ever known.

  I touch his cheek, feeling the wild stubble on his jaw, just the right amount of scruff that starts to show when he doesn’t shave for a couple days.

  “I think...more came back, Flint.”

  “The nightmare, you mean?” he asks.

  I nod, then shake my head. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I think it was my memory coming back. A lot more memory.”

  “What, you’ve remembered more?”

  “Almost everything.” I push my head back down on his chest. “I even remember my locker combination from the seventh grade.”

  “Shit, you’re serious?”

  “Totally. I don’t know the how or why, but it just came roaring back. No more bits and pieces. The good, the bad, the ugly, the silly...it’s all there. My entire life.”

  Flint looks at me sharply and his lips open, but he doesn’t say anything.

  He doesn’t move. I think he isn’t sure what to do now, and I don’t blame him.

  I’m just thankful because the confusion means a few more minutes of peace lying here with him. It’s a small thing to ask for, to want, but it’s what this girl needs before she gets into the scariest parts of her history.

  It’s the whole reason I’m here with him.

  As if he senses it too, Flint goes quiet and just holds me, his arms pulling me tighter against his massive shield of a chest.

  It’s Savanny who breaks the spell, jumping on the bed, poking his slick black nose against mine. I force a smile, stroking his head, running my fingers up and down his twitchy ears.

  “Mother was right. I’ve always been joined at the hip to this cat,” I tell him, holding a palm up for Savanny to rub. “I was so scared someone would take him away, ever since my father died, but Ray was the real reason. He said I had to 'grow a brain.' Start looking out for what was mine and our family’s. Dad couldn’t spoil me any longer. Couldn’t stop someone from taking Savanny, if I wasn’t careful, and I’d better keep him under lock and key.”

  Just thinking about it makes me furious.

  Whatever else my brother is, he’s a master manipulator. An emotional abuser skilled in the art of twisting people’s deepest fears and desires, including mine. Especially mine.

  “Babe, no one’s taking your little friend,” Flint growls. “I’m sure they’ll make an exception if we help bust one of the biggest crime syndicates on Oahu, after this is over. Hell, if they don’t, I’ll fight it myself. I’ll put up the legal fees. I’ll build him an enclosure at my own expense and raise so much hell it reaches the governor. Illegal or not, no one’s stealing him away, you hear?”

  His fingers gently tilt my face up, and I see how deadly serious he is.

  I’m touched. Grateful.

  But I also feel so guilty for bringing him more trouble that I just want to cry.

  “It’s not just Savanny.” I sit up then, cringing at the truth, everything I have to tell him. “Ray was right about one thing. I wasn’t supposed to be on the yacht the night things went sideways. I snuck aboard because I knew he was up to no good. I was fighting for months to get more involved with the company, telling him it was my right. Dad’s own lawyer agreed the inheritance broke down that way, he’d left three even shares to the entire family—not just Ray. He’d just taken over active management.”
>
  Flint scoots up in the bed. “Up to what, Val? What was he doing?”

  For a second, I’m dick-matized by this man.

  Rendered speechless.

  He’s so handsome, so sexy, so shirtless, leaning against the headboard with the sheet barely covering him from the navel down. Those abs promise a wilder ride than the Road to Hana.

  Oh. My. God.

  Yes, I know how ridiculous this is, having a schoolgirl freak-out over his godly looks when I’m in the middle of a serious talk.

  Still. My mouth goes dry.

  It takes me a moment to turn away and form words again, staring at the green palm trees by the beach, their leaves waving in the breeze.

  “Val?” he says, cocking his head.

  “Sorry. I’m not sure, honestly, but it’s not because I don’t remember. I’ve never been able to pin down what’s going on. Ray took over as manager after my father died, but lately, he’d pushed me and Mother out of the day to day business. I’d never shown much interest in the company until about a year ago, when I wanted to get out of my funk.”

  “Funk?” Flint folds his hands, leaning closer.

  “I’d just spent a year at an expensive art school. I hated it, honestly. It was too rigid, too stifling, too many people I couldn’t relate to, and I guess I just...I wanted to create beautiful things. Simple stuff. I wanted to draw by hand and make things people could enjoy in their everyday life. I didn’t want to make the kind of crazy, new wave shock pieces meant to tickle rich buyers at galleries. And I didn’t want the Instagram fame the others were after constantly. They spent more time shooting pics of their pieces and obsessively posting them online than they did making art.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, fuck. So you wanted something real. That’s no sin.”

  I shrug. Maybe not. But if I’d just swallowed my own angst and stayed in art school, perhaps this nightmare wouldn’t have happened.

  “What’d you do then? I know there’s more,” he says, gently goading me.

  “Well, I dropped out and came home. I decided I’d do my art on my terms, and I’d get more involved with King Heron. I was even working on a project before things went nuts, this huge mandala I planned to make out of colorful sand in the shape of a sea turtle...”