Boss

by Deborah Armstrong

  Dane took in a deep breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy. He would have been surprised if she had. “Your parents were gunned down by a madman. Someone who didn’t care who he killed as long as he killed. There is no excuse for what he did, and I am sorry that you had to suffer because of him.”

  “He shot my parents and twenty others in cold blood because he was unhappy with his employer. If he didn’t have a gun—” Jules looked away from him and stared at the window without seeing beyond the glass.

  “I agree.”

  “What?” His words pulled her attention back to him.

  “I said, I agree. Most people don’t need to own guns. They are unnecessary. Their only purpose should be for warfare.”

  “I don’t like wars either.”

  “And yet, we have them.”

  Jules drank from her glass, finishing it in one swallow. She placed the empty glass on the table beside her before making herself comfortable on the sofa. Dane mirrored her, finishing his drink then placing the glass on the table at his side.

  “What made you decide to kill people?” She kept her gaze focused on him, trying to read the man who she now saw as a stranger.

  Dane groaned and shook his head. “My enlisting was never about killing people. I joined the Navy as part of my university education. Through my training, I discovered that I had a knack for shooting, and I ended up in sniper detail. That’s how I met Bates. We were a team.”

  “You knew you would kill people.”

  “Yes. And I knew that I would be saving lives, too. My unit, everyone in our camp, and the local villagers—I kept them safe. I won’t apologize for what I’ve done.”

  “Were you ever shot?”

  “Shot at, but never hit. I was one of the lucky ones.”

  Jules pulled her legs up underneath her. She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees. Her gaze softened.

  Dane remembered this—how Jules could look at him and make him feel as though she was looking into him and seeing what was wrong with him.

  “Your seizures—Aunt Val told me that a transport truck hit you.”

  “My truck was totaled, and I ended up in a coma for a few weeks and afterward, rehab. My body is pretty much back to normal except for this.” Dane pointed to his temple.

  “Drugs don’t help?”

  “Not much. That’s why I have this guy.” Dane reached down and scratched the top of Lucky’s head. “He’s my alarm system. I’ve got five minutes to find cover. I wish it were more time, but I can’t complain. Five minutes is better than falling flat on my face.”

  “Your accident was after we met.”

  “Nothing gets by you, does it, Red?” Dane teased as he leaned back into the comfort of the sofa. “Yes, it was the day after I met you. I’ve been trying to get my life back on track ever since.” He held her gaze, hoping she would see how much their meeting had affected him.

  “You look as though you have it back. This place—”

  “I had this place before my accident. It’s the things I’ve had to give up and what I’m trying to get back.”

  “Such as?”

  “There’s my work.”

  “Which is?”

  Dane knew the conversation was coming to this and there was no way to avoid it. He got to his feet, picked up his glass. “Care for a refill?” He held out his free hand to her for the empty glass.

  She handed her glass to him. “Make it a double this time. Please.”

  Dane poured their drinks then returned to the sofa. He gave Jules her glass, and remained standing, looking down at her. “Still holding to the belief that you don’t get drunk?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you remember everything about our night together?”

  “You’re a hard woman to forget, Red, even with a brain injury.”

  She took a long sip of her drink. “You know, you’re the only man who has ever called me Red.”

  “Good.” Dane took his seat beside her, sitting closer. “The bar where we met. I own it.”

  Jules nodded. “That explains the service we were getting.”

  “My staff treats every customer the same.”

  “Not that well.”

  “Maybe. They know I expect the best from them.”

  “So that’s it? You own a bar?”

  “The bar’s a sideline. I’ve always liked the place, and I bought it when the owner decided to retire.”

  “You’re a homeboy? I wonder why we never bumped into each other?” She sighed. “I guess that’s because I spent most of my time at the hospital saving lives and you were—”

  “Doing my part to save lives.”

  She sighed, then took another sip from her glass. “I’ll never accept what you did.”

  Dane rubbed at his forehead, wondering if he should continue this conversation or find a safer, neutral territory.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Full steam ahead,” he uttered.

  Dane swallowed the last of his drink and set the glass down on the table. He shifted in his seat to face Jules. What needed to be said had to be done face to face. He had to see her reaction, knowing her facial expression would tell him more than any words she threw at him.

  “I didn’t plan to be in the bar the night we met. A client canceled a meeting last minute, and so Bates and I ended up at the bar for drinks.”

  “So I guess I should thank that client of yours. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have Becca.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “Your client. Why were you meeting?”

  He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table. Taking her hands in his he gripped them, hoping to keep her attention on him.

  “We were supposed to finalize my next assignment. My other job is government-sanctioned. It’s highly classified. It’s almost like firefighting, the job you gave to Gary. I put out dangerous fires except that—”

  Jules closed her eyes. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

  “I killed people, Red. I killed evil people.”

  “No,” she cried. “Don’t.”

  “I haven’t worked since my accident. Now I train others to do my job. It’s my business.”

  “That’s what you miss doing? Killing?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  Jules opened her eyes wide. “You’re a monster.”

  Dane’s grip tightened on her. “I don’t take life lightly. I killed the monsters who preyed on their people—the despots, the dictators who bled their people dry and then demanded more. I killed the monsters who kidnapped children as innocent as Becca and turned them into sex slaves. I’d still be doing it if it weren’t for this damned head injury. I can’t risk my life or the life of my men if I can’t stay conscious.”

  Jules looked down at her hands, held firmly in his. She remembered a time when she ached to feel his touch, to be in his arms and feel safe. Now, she questioned everything she had thought about him.

  “Aunt Val? She knows?”

  “Yes.”

  “From the very beginning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She couldn’t. She knew the secrets she’d have to keep. Val came here with her eyes wide open, Jules.”

  “My aunt would never support killing. Her sister, my mother, was gunned down in cold blood. How could she ever say that killing was okay?”

  “That’s a conversation you’ll have to have with her.”

  “No, this isn’t right.”

  Jules pulled her hands out of Dane’s grip and looked away from him, focusing her attention once again on the large floor to ceiling windows. She scrambled off the sofa and headed to one of the windows. She peered outside. Snow. Mountains. Wide open space. Plenty of spot
s for a shooter to hide and wait. Jules moved away from the window.

  “Could we ever be in danger? Is that why you’ve got such high security around this place?”

  Dane shrugged and exhaled roughly. “My identity is kept secret. No one is in danger here.”

  “So why all the hi-tech security?”

  “Just in case I’m wrong.”

  “What if you’re wrong now and Becca’s life is in danger? My god, why did I let her come here!”

  Dane got to his feet quickly, almost tripping over his dog. He reached out for her, grabbing her shoulders with his strong hands.

  “I would never let anything happen to you, Val, or Becca. All of you are safer here than crossing the street. You can trust me on that.”

  “I don’t think so, asshole.”

  “Red, you of all people know that there are no guarantees in life. You can’t always guarantee that you can prevent people from dying. No matter how hard we try to do the right thing, bad things happen. You know that as well as I do. Your parents went on a holiday and died because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one could have seen that coming. I managed to serve four tours without getting shot, but I got my bell rung at home, and my life almost turned to shit. There are no sure things. We can only do the best that we can.”

  “Everything about you goes against everything that I believe in.” Jules dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

  “We have to talk about Becca.”

  “No. Not today. I’m taking Becca away from here.” She tried to step away from him, but his grip kept her in place. “Please let me go.”

  “Promise me that we’ll talk. About Becca. Please.” Dane’s hands dropped to his side while he searched her face for a trace of understanding.

  “I can’t make any promises right now.” Jules made her way to the door and opened it. “Please don’t follow me. I’m taking Becca home, and I don’t want her to see you.”

  “This is my house.”

  “And she is my daughter, and I don’t want her anywhere near you. Not right now.”

  “She’s my daughter, too. You can’t keep me from her,” Dane warned, his voice threatening.

  “I can for today. Let us leave, Dane, before words get said that can’t be taken back.”

  There was a chilled silence that filled the foyer, one that warned Val and Mark that one uttered word would bring another onslaught of cutting words from the angry redhead. Becca sobbed uncontrollably on the stone floor crying out for Dane and Lucky as her mother’s experienced and gentle hands coaxed her body into her winter coat. Mark gave an embarrassed goodbye to Val before heading out with Becca’s bag to the waiting SUV warming up to fight the winter cold of the late afternoon.

  Aunt Val wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, tears caused by the angry accusation of, “How could you!” and the sudden announcement of their departure. Memories of Jules’ temper reminded Val that it was useless to argue with her. She would have to give her niece time to cool down before attempting to contact her.

  Dane watched the SUV head away from the house down the long driveway. He watched from his office, alone and angry. Although Becca had only been under his roof for twenty-four hours, the house now felt cold and empty without her. He was mad that Jules forbade him from saying goodbye to Becca. He was angrier with himself for not standing up to her.

  Dane felt the wet nose of his four-legged companion against the back of his hand. He looked down to find Becca’s bunny in Lucky’s mouth. Flopsy. Becca didn’t go anywhere without that beloved stuffed animal.

  Dane took the offered toy from Lucky’s mouth and smiled. “I think we’ll be seeing her sooner than later, boy.”

  A light knock at his door turned Dane’s attention away from the window.

  “Val.”

  “What happened?”

  Dane gestured to an armchair facing his desk. “Care to join me for a drink?” He set the toy down on his desk.

  Val nodded and made her way to her chair. She fell into it slowly and released a frustrated sigh. “Did you fight over Becca?”

  Dane finished pouring their drinks. Handing Val her glass, he answered, “We didn’t even get there. I’m a murderer in Jules’ eyes. There was no convincing her otherwise.”

  “You’re a hero! Doesn’t she realize how many lives you’ve saved?”

  “It’s the number I’ve taken that’s the problem.” Dane took a sip from his glass before sitting down in his leather chair. “It doesn’t sit well with someone who has dedicated her life to saving lives.”

  Val shook her head. “She’s a smart woman. She should know that it’s necessary—”

  “Nope. Killing is killing. I’m as bad as the man who killed her parents. I’m probably worse because I got paid for it.”

  “She must hate me for not telling her.”

  “You couldn’t tell her.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’re family. She came back to High River because of you. She’ll get over it.”

  “We’ve only just reconciled. I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

  “Well, she’ll have to see one of us before too long. I’ve got something she wants.”

  “What’s that?”

  Dane picked up the stuffed bunny he’d placed on his desk. “This.”

  Once Becca had cried herself to sleep, Mark waited for what he thought was an acceptable amount of time before he dared to speak to Jules.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to say,” Jules answered flatly, staring out her passenger window.

  “It must have been quite a shock—”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it. Please, Mark, I’ve got things to think through.”

  “I could help as a friend. I’ll put my psychiatrist’s hat away. I promise.”

  She turned to him and smiled. Jules reached for his hand and held it. “Thank you. I know you want to help me, and I appreciate it. This is something I have to work out for myself.”

  “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know. Have some trust in the people around you that they can help you.”

  Jules shook her head. “I know that. It’s not that easy. Not this time.” She turned her head and looked out at the snowy winter landscape and wondered what the hell her aunt was thinking. Today’s Aunt Val wasn’t the Aunt Val she remembered. The Aunt Val she knew was anti- violence, fundraised for her church, and wrote letters to politicians asking for their support of stricter gun legislation. Did something happen to her when Uncle Ned died? Did she have a mini-stroke? Jules should have taken the first flight back to Alberta when her aunt told her she was moving in with a stranger to be his housekeeper.

  Jules felt the heaviness of regret seep into her bones. She would have insisted on meeting Val’s employer, and then she would have met Gary. His real name was Dane. Time had not changed him. He looked as perfect as she remembered, if not more so. His T-shirt showed off every muscle hidden beneath the stretched material. His hair was still cropped short, although he now sported a light beard. Damn him for looking that good. As much as Jules wanted to hate the man for the killer he was, she knew that if he hadn’t come to her rescue that night, her world would be a much different one. A world without Becca.

  “Do you mind dropping us off at the entrance?”

  “Let me help you with Becca. She’s quite the armful.”

  “I know, but I can manage. It’s been a long day, and all I want to do is get her settled in bed before I take a long hot bath.”

  Mark did as he was asked by stopping at the hotel’s entrance long enough to help Jules gather Becca and her bag in her arms. He kissed her on the forehead before saying goodnight.

  “Call me?”

  “Tomorrow once I’ve had a ch
ance to sort things out. I promise.”

  It wasn’t until Jules had returned to her hotel suite and unpacked Becca’s little travel bag that she realized Flopsy was missing. She called Mark in a panic.

  “Where is he?” Becca cried with tears running down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” Jules answered. She hugged her daughter while she waited for Mark to check his car for the missing toy. She heard him curse while he searched.

  “I don’t see him,” frustration added an edge to his voice.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve torn my car apart, Jules. The damned rabbit is not here. If you don’t have it, then there’s only one place it could be.”

  Jules groaned. She didn’t want to accept that her daughter’s long-eared companion had been left behind in enemy territory. There was no way in hell she’d return to the ranch for a stuffed animal.

  “Mommy!”

  “I have to go. Thanks for looking.”

  “Call your aunt, Jules. Don’t punish Becca because you’re pissed at Val. Call her. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night, Mark.”

  Becca’s bottom lip quivered. “Did he find Flopsy?”

  “I think Flopsy is with Auntie Val, sweetheart. We must have left him behind.”

  “No,” the child wailed. “I have to have him.” She sobbed, clinging to her mother. “He’s all alone!”

  Jules hugged her daughter tighter and kissed the top of her head. A lost bunny was a terrible end to a terrible day. She didn’t know how much more of this upset she could take.

  Her cellphone buzzed, indicating an incoming text. Jules looked at her phone and saw the image of the missing Flopsy beside the caller’s number.

  She clicked open the message, “ I want to come home. Lucky thinks I’m a new chew toy. The asshole is threatening to tie me to a post and shoot me. He wants another chance to talk to you or else. I miss Becca. How is she?”

  “Asshole’s right,” she muttered as she typed in her reply, “Becca is devastated. Please don’t hurt Flopsy. If you can manage to drag yourself away from your fortress and promise not to kill anyone on your way here, please release him into my care.”