In Deep - A Secret Twins Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 6)

by Layla Valentine

  She’s still so gorgeous. How could I have forgotten?

  “Connor,” she says quietly.

  Right. I could kick myself. I’d completely forgotten that all the Pyrite victims would still know me by my undercover name. How am I going to explain all this? How can I put it in a way that won’t make her feel even more betrayed and lied to than everything else that’s already happened does?

  I don’t have to explain it at all, I suppose. I can tell her it’s good to see her again, walk away, and let her think of me as “Connor” forever. That’s not doing her any harm, after all. Let Connor be a figure from her past, a fictional character she can love or hate, respect or despise, depending on how she feels about everything that happened between us. I can walk away from it all right now, with no further resolution at all.

  Except that I can’t. Something about Tammy is pulling me in, and it’s even stronger than it was when we were on the ranch together.

  At Pyrite, we had things standing between us, concrete obstacles that there was no getting around. We couldn’t avoid the fact that ranch rules forbade us from exploring a naturally evolving relationship. I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was there on assignment and that becoming romantically involved would be deeply unprofessional.

  But those things are gone now. It’s just me and Tammy on the steps of the courthouse—the crowds have passed now; we’re mostly alone—and we’re standing so close together that I could take her hand, and I want to do it. I want to reach out to her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “If I startled you.”

  “No, it’s all right,” she says, and I can hear in her voice that however she thinks of me, it isn’t with open hostility. There may be caution there. She might be reserved, holding something back. But she doesn’t hate me. I can work with that. “I just thought you were someone else,” she adds. “An old friend from the ranch.”

  “A lot of people turned up,” I notice.

  “I think we’re all really excited to see what happens to Xavier. It’s hard to believe that anything at all is happening, you know? It’s been such a long time.”

  I nod. “Listen, Tammy. I feel bad about how abruptly you and I ended our friendship. I never even got to say goodbye to you, and that’s always eaten at me. Will you let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

  She hesitates. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “Coffee.”

  There’s a little cafe a few blocks over. I noticed it while I was driving to court this morning. I take Tammy’s arm and begin steering her in that direction.

  “So, how have you been?” I ask, noticing as I do that even the act of holding onto her arm is stirring me. God, I missed being around this woman.

  You can’t move fast. You can’t rush this. She’s been through so much.

  “I’m doing well,” Tammy says, oblivious to my inner conflict. “I’ve got a job now, working at an animal hospital. All my experience with livestock is actually going to good use, I guess, except now, I mostly hold puppies still so they can get their shots.”

  “That sounds rewarding.” I say. “Are you living on your own?”

  She gives me a funny look. “I have an apartment.”

  “I’m only asking because I know a lot of the Pyrite victims still aren’t. They’re staying with family or friends—” I pause. She’s blown out a frustrated puff of air. “What is it?”

  “Victims.”

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t think of myself that way,” she says. “I don’t like to be thought of that way.”

  I hesitate. “But…I don’t want to argue, but Xavier did victimize you. All of you.”

  “I fell for a bad con,” she says. “I like taking some responsibility. You know? It’s empowering for me. And yeah, what he did was wrong, and I hope he goes to jail for a long time. But it helps me to remember that this isn’t something that could just happen to me again at any time, with nothing I can do to prevent it. I can make smarter choices. I can keep myself safe.”

  I nod. “That does make sense. It sounds like you’re adjusting really well.”

  “I’m doing my best,” she says. “Some days are harder than others. It’s been an adjustment, being out in the real world, but some things are really wonderful. I love to go to the movies now. Sometimes, I go all day and see three or four in a row. And then some days, I don’t even want to get out of the house because it’s too hard to face the world.” She smiles. “Lately, it’s more good days than bad, though.”

  “I’m impressed you showed up here.”

  “Well, I wanted to face Xavier again,” she says. “I wanted to tell my story and see justice served.”

  We step into the coffee shop. Tammy takes a seat while I order for us and bring our drinks back to the table. I watch as she adds sugar packet after sugar packet to her drink before stirring.

  “No sugar on the ranch,” she explains. “I know it’s not exactly good for me, but I never thought I’d taste it again.”

  “That makes sense,” I say.

  She sips her drink. “So, Connor, how have you been? Bust any cults lately?”

  I sigh. “Tammy, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Sounds serious,” she says with a chuckle. “Let me guess—you’re about to tell me that my whole life is a lie and I’m actually a pawn in a plot to blow up the moon.”

  “No, nothing like that.” I take a deep breath. “My name isn’t actually Connor.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows go up.

  “You already knew I was undercover. I’m a Navy SEAL. Have been for the past ten years. I work out of San Diego—well, that’s my hometown; it’s where I grew up.” I’m babbling. I need to rein it in. It’s just that she makes me so nervous. “I travel a lot for my work, though. And I had to adopt a false identity while I was at Pyrite gathering information on Xavier, because—”

  “I’m sorry,” she cuts me off. “What’s your real name?”

  “Oh. It’s Kyle. Kyle Newfeld. I’m sorry. I know you must feel lied to.”

  “Well, I was lied to.” She takes a long sip of her drink, holding me in suspense. “But I can understand. You had to do what you had to do. So, it’s Kyle, is it?” She looks me in the eyes. “Maybe I can get used to that. Kyle.”

  “There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” I say. “While I have you here.”

  “More secrets?”

  “Not exactly, no.” I look down at the table, spreading my fingers. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” She frowns. “Did you get a lot of blowback from Pyrite people for blowing the whistle? Because we were upset at the time, but I think most of us do recognize now that you acted for the greater good.”

  “No, not that,” I say. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.”

  “Oh,” she says. “You said it earlier; it’s okay.”

  “I’m not sure I really gave it enough emphasis,” I say. “I felt awful about it. I still do.”

  “What was between us wasn’t real,” Tammy says lightly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No,” I counter. “It was real, Tammy. I don’t know what it was, exactly, but I know I cared about you. I really liked you. And I’ve never regretted any of the time we spent together. My only regret is that I was forced to disappear on you the way I did. It would never have been my choice to leave you that way, but I had to. For everyone’s safety.”

  She looks a little shaken. “Thank you,” she says. “That…that really means a lot to me.”

  “I’m glad to have gotten the opportunity to say it.”

  We look at each other and smile, and suddenly, the gulf between us doesn’t seem quite so wide. Suddenly, I feel able to look at the situation in a new light. She is, after all, more than just a cult victim. She’s a gorgeous, smart, funny woman. A capable, strong woman. And she’s sitting here smiling at me like she likes me, too.

  Maybe there is something here.

>   In my pocket, my phone chimes. A text message, probably from a friend back home. I pull it out to hit ignore. I don’t want to talk to anyone but Tammy right now, and I’m thinking I’ll just silence the thing—

  Then, I catch sight of the time. “Oh my God. Is it really three thirty?”

  “Um.” Tammy pulls out her own phone to confirm. “That’s what I’ve got.”

  “I was supposed to be at the airport an hour ago!”

  Have I really gotten so lost in talking to Tammy that I completely forgot I had a plane to catch?

  “There’s no way I’m going to make it in time now.” I’m already on my feet, scraping my things together, looking out the door for a cab to hail. “I’m sorry, Tammy. I’m so sorry to run off like this. God. This is exactly what I just apologized for doing to you, and now, I’m doing it again. I need to try to make this flight. I can’t believe I did this.”

  “Wait,” Tammy says, getting to her feet, too. “Hang on a minute.”

  “Hang on a minute?” Does she not understand? I can’t afford to hang on a minute. Odds are strong I’m going to miss my flight even if everything goes perfectly right between now and the airport.

  “Delay until tomorrow,” she suggests. “Defer your ticket.”

  “I don’t have a hotel for tonight.”

  “So…” She takes a breath. She’s steeling herself for something. “So, come back to San Francisco. Stay with me for the night. You can even fly out from there tomorrow, if you want. And you and I could have a little bit longer to catch up.”

  She watches me eagerly across the table, waiting for my answer. I kind of can’t believe this situation has even come up. I thought that she’d be angry with me for my deception, that she’d never want to see me again. Instead, she seems to have dealt with it all in a very healthy way. She seems ready to move on.

  And maybe I could be a part of that moving on.

  I wonder if she’s involved with anybody. I’d assumed all the Pyrite victims would be too damaged from what they’d been through to have formed relationships yet, but God, Tammy seems normal. Like she wasn’t part of a cult for three whole years. Like she just shrugged it all off.

  But still…

  “I don’t know,” I say hesitantly. “It might not be such a good idea…”

  “What do you mean?”

  She looks crestfallen, and I immediately feel guilty. Why do I seem to hurt this girl every time I come into her life? It’s the last thing in the world I want to do. Then again, what I want to is not without its risks and could end up with both of us being far more hurt. Not to mention the other trouble it might cause.

  “The case,” I say.

  “What about it?”

  “If you and I are…well, there could be implications,” I say. “Your testimony could be compromised, as could mine. It could be assumed that we manipulated each other’s’ perspective, if the court finds out we were involved.”

  “Involved?”

  “If I go home with you tonight…”

  “Oh. Oh, wow. Oh. Gosh. I see. No.” Her face has gone as red as a tomato. “I’m sorry—that’s my fault. I wasn’t clear. I was just thinking you might come back to my house for conversation and a place to stay. I didn’t mean…”

  “Oh!”

  I feel incredibly stupid. Of course she didn’t. Of course she’s not bringing guys back to her place to have sex on the first day she meets them—which is essentially what this is for her, I have to remember. Even though we knew each other before, she’s just learning my real name, my real occupation, and my real motivation for being at Pyrite. In a very real way, she’s getting to know me for the first time.

  “I’m really sorry. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “But I’d love for you to come and stay so I can get to know you, Kyle,” she continues. It’s the first time she’s used my name—my real name. “I meant that. I really hope you’ll consider it.”

  “Well,” I say, “When you put it that way, I’d love to.”

  “That’s great!” Tammy says. “Hey, maybe we can pick up a bottle of wine, too. Since we’re celebrating and all.”

  “Celebrating? What are we celebrating?”

  “Lots of things!” she says. “Xavier’s case finally going to court, for one. I’m so excited for the trial to start.”

  “You’re not nervous?”

  “I’m less nervous after today,” she says. “I think seeing him again for the first time was the hardest part, and now that I’ve done that and survived, I know I’ll be able to handle the rest. I just really want to tell my story so the judge can take it under consideration when deciding what to do with him.”

  “What do you hope happens?” I ask.

  “He was going to lock us all in underground bunkers until the day we died, from what I hear,” Tammy says.

  I nod. “That’s what I discovered during my time on the ranch.”

  “Then I want the same thing to happen to him,” she says. “I want him to be locked up for the rest of his life. That seems like a fair punishment to me.”

  I give her a little half smile. “I think so, too.”

  Chapter 15

  Kyle

  I’m surprised all over again when I see that Tammy drives her own car. I completely underestimated this girl. I’d expected to find her in ruins after her experience at Pyrite, but she seems to have done a remarkable job getting back on her feet. The car isn’t exactly a beater, either. It’s only a couple of years old, with a shiny blue paint job and one of those rear-parking cameras that are so popular these days.

  “Nice car,” I say, running my hand over the side.

  “Oh, thanks,” she says. “I got it about three months ago. Used, obviously. I was taking public transportation before that, but that’s such a ridiculous hassle in San Francisco, and eventually, I just felt like I needed to be driving, you know?”

  “That makes sense,” I say. “You know, trauma specialists would probably point to that as a good sign of your recovery.”

  Immediately, I could bite my tongue. Am I really going to segue from talking about her car into talking about her cult trauma? She hasn’t invited me to discuss that. Who the hell do I think I am?

  But luckily, she doesn’t seem to mind at all.

  “That’s what my therapist said,” she agrees blandly. “Anyway, are you ready to go?”

  “Sure,” I say, and get into the passenger seat.

  It’s tidy inside—no fast food wrappers or the other kinds of debris that tend to accumulate in cars. Tammy’s car clearly means a lot to her, and she’s taken a lot of trouble to care for it.

  We pull out and head for the highway. She’s a relaxed, competent driver, at ease merging into the fast-moving traffic on the interstate. She doesn’t seem like someone who took years off from driving. She’s comfortable behind the wheel, able to carry on a casual conversation with me and adjust the knobs on her radio while she navigates. I wonder if she’s adapting this well to everything she had to relearn when she left the ranch. She lives on her own, I assume successfully. She has a job. Could she be ready for a relationship?

  No. I need to reel in my thoughts. Whether or not she’s ready for a relationship, it’s not a good idea for the two of us to get involved. Not while we’re both taking part in this lawsuit.

  After several hours, Tammy pulls off the highway and we drive through a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood.

  “This is pretty,” I say.

  “My apartment is right up here.”

  She turns into a parking lot and I find myself looking up at a classy apartment complex. The units appear to have balconies where several of the residents have placed grills, and I can see in the distance the sparkling blue of a community pool.

  Tammy parks. “Come on up.”

  I follow her up the stairs and into a second floor unit. It’s neat, but comfortably lived in—a book on the end table and a few pieces of dirty silverware in the sink indicate that she l
eft in a hurry. Tammy waves in the direction of the couch.

  “You can put your things over there for now.”

  I drop my bag and sit on the couch beside it.

  Tammy opens the refrigerator, scans it, and closes it. “Well, I haven’t got anything. You want to go out to dinner?”

  Tammy takes me to a Japanese restaurant a couple of blocks from her house. We’re able to walk, which is nice because the weather’s absolutely gorgeous: seventy degrees and clear. She changes from the pantsuit she wore to court into a fitted orange sundress with a blue hem that swings around her knees as she walks and makes her look more carefree than I’ve ever seen her.

  I don’t have anything to change into except my jeans and T-shirt I planned to wear on the flight tomorrow, but it’s still better than wearing my suit. Tammy doesn’t seem bothered at all by my casual attire. She walks down the street with a spring in her step and points out the library, the lake where she goes jogging, and the shoe shop where she likes to spend her extra income.

  The restaurant turns out to be a cute little corner place. They seat us outside under an umbrella because of the nice weather. We order, and a moment later, the waiter returns with a bottle of wine.

  I raise my glass to hers. “Here’s to getting reacquainted.”

  She clinks. “It’s been a long time.”

  “You’ve done really well for yourself, though. I’m impressed.”

  She shrugs. “These are just the things everyone does, right? Getting a place to live, getting a job? It doesn’t make me special.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I know I’m allowed to say it was harder for me, because of what happened,” she says. “I know that’s not just making excuses. But it feels like making excuses. I don’t want to be proud of myself for tiny accomplishments, because that makes it feel like bigger things—things I used to dream of—are totally out of reach now.”

  “What did you used to dream of?” I ask her.

  She blushes and looks away.

  “You can tell me,” I press.