Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel

by Rachel Robinson

  I stare at Clement now, thinking of him. I’ve loved all the hair off and now it resembles a burn unit victim. I chewed off the nose as a toddler, and gracefully pooped it out, so it doesn’t have a nose, just several black stitches on the snout point. After I’ve loaded him in, I sit on the suitcase and zip it all the way around. I’m wearing a tight-knit dress over my bathing suit still, but remove my flip-flops, cram them into the side pocket of my bag and lace up my running shoes.

  I open the cheap blinds with two fingers to peek out. I can’t see the parking lot, but I can tell they’re probably still mulling around hoping for a reappearance of their antagonist. I still myself as much as I can to try and hear any movement that shouldn’t be there. I can’t believe he would bring them here. That he wants them in his business. Of course, he wants them to follow him around, Aara. It’s how he stays relevant. I hate myself for falling for him to begin with. I use the restroom quickly and wipe under my eyes when I catch sight of my reflection. Marissa’s ring tone starts screaming from the counter by the front door.

  I run to answer it and yell into the receiver, “Henry Durnin is at my complex, with every goddamn media outlet asking to talk to me.” I huff in a deep angry breath. “Marissa, he is all up in my space calling me love and asking to be a team again.”

  “He’s there,” she verifies, because this is completely absurd.

  “In the ripped jean wearing, British slang spitting, smarmy flesh. He’s here.”

  I’m tapping my foot and my teeth are clenched. “I’ll be right there,” Marissa pants.

  “I’m staying at Hart’s,” I offer, wincing in wait of my friend’s reply. “I told you how big his house is. I’ll have my own wing.”

  “You’re going to live at Luke Hart’s house and you’re talking about staying in a separate wing? Henry really has fucked your head up, hasn’t he?”

  “Shut up.” I huff, retreating to my room to grab my bag. “This will die down and then I’ll be home. It’s honestly safer at his house. He has honest to God security and fences and no one can see onto the property.” Drones might be able to scout from above, I muse, storing that tidbit for later.

  “Have you told Liam yet?” My dad. Shit.

  “No, but he’d want me safe and he thinks we’re just friends.” I blew it.

  “Hah! I knew it. You aren’t just friends.”

  Back pedal. “We haven’t even kissed. It’s more of an intellectual connection.” I cringe at my own words.

  “You are full of it!” Marissa is cackling now. “You connect on baser levels because you both are of the same mind with military stuff, but I guarantee the man isn’t worried about that connection now that you’ll be sleeping in his house, Aara.” Her laughter quells. “You know it’s not allowed.”

  I swallow hard and roll the suitcase to my front door. “That’s why we haven’t gone there yet, but I’ll tell you what, you’re right.”

  “Did the unimaginable happen? You’re telling me I’m right?”

  I wring my hands by my sides. “The chemistry is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It’s as if my body is a match and the sight of him flicks me to life. Also, he’s sort of…nice.” I heave a breath. “It’s not allowed. I could ruin everything by giving in to a desire. It makes me feel weak. Like I’m failing a test they’re giving me. Proving them that mixing sexes is a mistake. That women will ruin the dynamic. Even knowing all that, I don’t think I can stop it.”

  “That man isn’t a test. Everyone feels the same way you do. Look at him! You’re just lucky that he feels the same way about you.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t tell me you want him as much as I do. We’re not in that headspace yet, Aurora Ball.”

  “Ew, don’t say that. I love you, I’d never do you like that. I’m giving you outside perspective so you feel better about your wanton desires.” Her microwave goes off in the background. “It’s warranted, but you need to be really careful because you’re also right. This is risky-ass business and if you think you’re being hounded now. Imagine that scandal.”

  In the sober light of day away from Medusa stares, and hotels and reality, I know my friend is correct. “We won’t even think about that. It won’t turn into that. Key isn’t in the ignition yet. Attraction hasn’t met desire. There’s still some semblance of practicality.”

  “Yet.” Marissa is chewing food noisily. “Is Henry and fan club still there?”

  “I don’t know. My window doesn’t face the parking lot. Remember, you talked me into the lakeside view?” It’s a retention pond, really. But it’s better than a view of cars and light poles.

  Marissa belches and excuses herself meekly. “That’s right. Okay, well if you don’t need me to come over there and storm the masses, Bad Girl Club is waiting.” I hear her drink something. Wine, if she’s about to watch her show. “Love you, girl. Be safe. Text me when you get to the sex compound safely.”

  I roll my eyes. “Shut up. You are the worst.”

  “I can be whatever I want to be because I’m your one and only.”

  “Oh, please. Bye, B.” I hang up the phone, irritated and pleased. The only way you ever leave a conversation with your best friend. The huge tub of protein powder is on top of my fridge and I know I’ll need that. I put it in a reusable grocery bag along with a box of protein bars and start my expedition to my car. The crowd is gone, but a white news van follows me out of my complex and all the way up to La Jolla even though I drive faster than the speed limit.

  The second the tall iron gate slams behind me, I breathe easy for the first time. It’s a winding, cobblestone driveway that leads to the most palatial house–if you can even call it a house, I’ve ever laid eyes on. Bringing up his wealth or his inheritance never occurred to me because it’s literally all anyone else talks about. His flashy Lambo. His mansion by the sea. The fact that he never needs to work a day in his life, but is a government employee. Those are things used against him constantly, and well, I feel life’s circumstances shouldn’t be a talking point. Sometimes I think I’m making things weird by not mentioning it at all. Like I’m intentionally trying to bury my head in the sand. Other times, I’m certain he’s glad I don’t factor it in. I don’t want to be seen as my gender, so I take the task of separation of wealth to heart.

  I park my car in the same spot as last time and notice there aren’t any other vehicles here. No family members or friends stopping by. Me and him. Alone. In his palace by the sea. The cool breeze hits when I step out and pop my trunk. Today would have been so much nicer if we spent it here at his private beach. No one else’s music, or conversations, or crowding. I set my wobbly suitcase down and tilt my chin skyward. “It’s good to be rich,” I sigh, lugging my suitcase over the cobblestone drive toward the staircase that leads up to his front door.

  A shirtless Luke flings one side of his front door open and descends the stairs, bulky muscles flexing and contracting with each millimeter of movement. Because honestly, how else would a hero come to a damsel’s rescue? A movie worthy welcome. Is his chest actually sparkling? Oh, it’s water. That makes sense, he does have on a bathing suit. The pool.

  “Little Dempsey,” he says when he’s in earshot. “You made it.”

  The swirling nervous nausea is replaced by the knowledge that I never felt like this while looking at Henry. It’s different and I can quantify it now. The difference between real and casual. I’m staring at Luke like some kind of weird jerk, and he’s asking me to tell him about the reporters and Henry. He wants names of media outlets. His lips are moving, but I’m in that space between crying with relief and turning to run away from the ticking time bomb standing before me.

  His blue eyes meet mine. “Aara.”

  “Why do you have to be so perfect?” My words come out just as he takes my bags from me. Perfect timing. “Why?”

  He staggers back, narrowing his eyes. “I’m far from perfect.”

  At least he takes the subject change with ease. “Do you even see you
rself? Like really see yourself, Hart? I know I’m partial to you for obvious reasons, but look at you. You’re legitimately glittering in the sun. Like you stepped off a photoshoot for Playgirl.”

  Hart wrinkles his nose as he turns toward the bright white marble. He looks over his shoulder. “Playgirl. Is that even a thing anymore?”

  “You’re missing the point,” I reply.

  “I could say the same about you.” Luke sets down my suitcase and bag at the entrance to his house. When I walk in, he shuts the door and locks it. The sound ricochets and sends a shock to my core. “You glitter in the sun. Especially almost naked. You bring a bathing suit?” He hikes his thumb to the back of the house where the pool is.

  Nodding, I grab the smaller bag as he rolls my suitcase to the stairway that leads to the room where I changed before. It looks like it’s been rearranged completely since I was last in here. The bed has a different duvet, and there are canopy drapes in a gauzy lace wrapping around the sides of the bed.

  “I let my sister pick out stuff.”

  “Oh, is this where she stays?” Guilt strikes as I realize I’m taking his sister’s space.

  Luke clasps his hands in front of his body. “No. Her room is down the hall a bit. You aren’t taking anyone’s space, Dempsey. That’s what you’re thinking right now? Trying to come up with reasons why you shouldn’t be here?” He pauses, watching me walk around the bed to gaze out the window overlooking the beach. “Don’t do that. There is literally no reason why you can’t stay here.” I hear him shift, his shorts making a swishing noise. “There’s a pen and paper on the dresser. Write down the things you like to eat and I’ll give it to my housekeeper, Margarita.”

  “I can do my own shopping,” I say, scowling.

  He lifts and lowers one shoulder, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Fine. Just trying to make your life a little easier. Whatever you want.”

  I sound ungrateful. I eye the pad of paper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Yes. Please. That would be easier for me. It’s been a weird day.” Henry’s smile. My past boiling to the present. “I can’t believe he showed up at my house. He actually thought I was going to forgive him. He asked me to be a team.” I shake my head. “Can you believe it?”

  He folds his arms across his chest as I wander closer to grab my suitcase. “It’s a pretty awesome thing to have you on my team, so yeah, I believe it. He’s realizing his mistake.”

  “No. No, he’s not.” I unzip my suitcase like a madwoman and start shifting clothes around. “He wants to use me for the fleeting attention shining down on me right now. Like he used Aurora to get the world tour. I’m putting the pieces of his lying ways together and that man is one hundred percent that bitch.”

  Luke chuckles. “What bitch?”

  I shake my head. “One I never should have had anything to do with. I wish my mom would tank his tour. Give him awful press. Make him fail. Send him back to his motherland with his tail tucked between his legs.”

  “Liar. That’s not you.”

  I’m surprised by his ballsy assessment. “How would you know? We barely know each other.” I find the workout shorts and pull them on under my dress. “I’m ready for the pool.”

  He tsks. “The bathing suit you wore last time is in the drawer. You know, if you liked it.” His smile is wide and knowing. “Because I liked it.” The lines between us are blurry. That was a step over it, though. And I don’t balk. Not even a little bit.

  I groan, shaking my head. That thing was made of a few strings and nothing else. “Let’s go swimming, Hart. You’re pushing your luck. I might actually be as vindictive as you don’t believe I am. Gaining satisfaction from a tanked tour and low sales might make me happy.”

  I walk past him and out the door. He smells like chlorine and sex. Not actual sex, like this masculine combination of manly body wash and a scent belonging to only Luke Hart. I glance over my shoulder to see him follow me.

  “Fine, fine. I know that you’d never wish ill will on anyone, even the asshole who did you dirty because you’re character-driven.” He pauses, but I hear his footsteps falling softly behind me. “And you don’t let anyone else dictate how you feel. You don’t give permission for that. When you make a decision, it’s because you want to. You’d never let something or someone affect you in a negative way.” The warm, salt kissed air is circulating in the living room as I step down nearer to the patio outside. I shiver. From his words. From the air temperature change.

  Luke’s presence is big and saturating—I feel him behind me. His heat permeating my skin, organs, soul. All of it. My knees feel weak because I’ve never felt so seen in my entire life. I swallow hard. “You’re right.”

  His voice is a low rumble against my neck. “I know when you give yourself to me it’s because you want to. Not because anything influenced you. Your decisions are cautious. Well thought out. You do what you believe is right.”

  My voice is scratchy. “What do I believe?”

  “You believe in the same things I do.”

  A loud wave crashes and the sound reaches us. “Tell me what you believe in then.”

  Grabbing my waist, he spins me to meet his icy gaze. I lose my breath. He licks his lips. I can’t look away. “Nobility. Bravery. Science. I believe in sacrifice. Patience.” Luke’s fingers slide down my face—on both sides. His eyes flick to my lips, then my eyes and back again. “I believe in trust. Responsibility. Respect.”

  I’m so transfixed, I know I must look like a deer caught in headlights as I soak in his words. “I believe in kindness, self-discipline, and perseverance. Most of all,” he says, biting the corner of his lip, shaking his head once, then finishes, “I believe in this.” Pulling me toward him, he leans down and presses his lips against mine. They’re warmer than the air. His fingers twine through my hair, he pulls a bit to angle my head to the side.

  Entrapped. Ensnared. Caught. Completely taken. I’m his. All things streaming through my entire body this very moment. It’s chills and heat. A prickling sensation blooming in my stomach that gives me strength and makes me weak at the same time. His tongue slips against mine. I crack my eyes open because the urge to see his face is strong. I’m floating, and he resembles an angel. The sight perfection clogs my throat. Kissing him is an out-of-body experience I’ve surely never experienced before. Now that I pair this connection with what came before it, there’s no coming back from this.

  Luke groans as his large hands move their way down my sides to my ass. Clutching him to me, my fingers gripping his biceps, there’s only one way to grow closer. Everything below my belly button is on fire—aware of the testosterone taking over my senses. I can taste him like I’ve dreamed about. A minty, manly assault. Dipping, he grips the bottom of my mini dress and pulls it over my head. I have on a light green bikini top, something he breaks the kiss to look at. Dimples appear as he slips his fingers under the string around my neck.

  “This works too.”

  “Sorry about that whole my lips on your lips thing. Couldn’t really help myself.”

  He’s staring at my chest.

  I lift one brow. “You’re apologizing for kissing me?” Clasping my fingers around the back of his neck, I bring his face back to mine. “Never apologize for kissing me again. It’s not very noble.” Our grins match as I lift my chin up to his waiting, wet lips.

  That decision he was talking about earlier, the one where once I choose something I’m loyal to it, well I’m pretty sure my mind is made up. It doesn’t feel well thought out, or cautious. In fact, it feels like wild reckless abandon I can’t get enough of.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke

  She tastes like home. If home was laced with a deadly addictive narcotic. I’ve never simultaneously lost my breath and my mind at the same time. It feels like I’m choking and not remembering to exhale. You know when you think about breathing, that in and out motion, it feels like an endless amount of work. The rest of the time it happens and you don’t even realize you’re inha
ling or exhaling. I’m a fish out of water, all my senses surreptitiously obsessed with Aarabelle. The way her long eyelashes flutter when I’m kissing her. How her body melts into mine. The scent of lavender and honey paired with sunblock.

  Having her this way doesn’t feel wrong. I’m riding on a cloud somewhere in an unexplored galaxy of perfection. When I noticed myself pulling her toward my bedroom unwittingly, I broke the kiss—stealing us out of the house and into the pool. There’s only so many firsts I can process at one time without fucking something up. It’s a cardinal rule. Do things without mistakes. If you limit what you’re working on, you limit mistakes.

  There’s a method to my madness. I want to spin things into something more with her while keeping everything exactly the same. A working relationship meets more. The waters are murky and I threw out the playbook during our skydiving training trip. It’s when things mutated. I felt jealousy over a woman for the first time. Admitting to sharing women with my teammates is easy. They are willing participants and they don’t care about jumping beds. I never felt like I was getting sloppy seconds. It was part of life. The thought of Aarabelle hooking up with anyone other than me isn’t a thought I can handle. The reality is I would go ape shit. Typically, this is something you’d talk to your friends about. All my friends are in this weird triangle and can’t know. It’s taboo. Second, fatherly advice can’t be given or both of our careers would be fucked into oblivion. I weighed whether what I was feeling was worth it. I asked myself is this the one in a billion? The one? The person who is going to change my life? The woman willing to follow me into uncharted territory. Every scenario I played out, she came out on top. Yes. This is it. If it’s not it, my judge of character and deciphering skills are jacked and I don’t deserve to be a SEAL.