From the helo’s side window, London watched the September sun set far in the west. Its last few rays were as pinkish-golden as ever, but today they were squashed like slender fingers beneath the weight of the purpling storm front intent on hiding Mount Rainier from the rest of the world. Which was the norm for this side of the Cascades. Most often heard phrase in the Pacific Northwest? “Is the mountain out today?” Most days it wasn’t, not in a region prone to heavy rain, drizzle, and blankets of fog nine months of every year.
It was hard to believe that, out of all the covert operators in the world, Heston Contreras was one of two sent to locate Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. On London’s mountain. In her newly adopted state. Not like that designation would last through the next few days. London knew better. Women working in male-dominated fields were low-hanging fruit, easily marked as first out the door whenever RIFs, reductions-in-force, came down from above. Just as easily passed over for promotions they’d earned; her, by lack of seniority. Guess one had to stick with a federal agency longer than a couple years to make a solid reputation for herself.
Also guess Captain Bates hadn’t liked her leaving with Heston and Asher once they’d located the Stewarts. He hadn’t liked her tone when she’d checked in with him the last time. She thought she’d been civil, at least as respectful as he deserved. Which was hard considering she worked for a jerk who wore his rank like it made him a god. Honestly, he wasn’t a captain in any army. Sure hadn’t ever worked as hard as she had.
She’d never had a problem with Bates until his promotion. He’d changed then, from the laid-back man she’d bandied jokes back and forth with, into a bossy, egotistical tyrant who wanted respect and obedience more than the easy-going comradery they’d once shared. He used to be friendly. Now he snapped orders at her, then snapped again when she didn’t respond fast enough. The jerk.
London despised being treated like she was anything less than the intelligent woman she knew she was. Hated it with a purple passion. Hated to be minimized and talked down to. She damned well knew she was second best to—No. Body. Not even Heston. Speaking of which…
She snuck a sideways glance at the man she’d once planned to spend the rest of her life with. Dayum. He still looked good, even in all that cold weather gear. Course, he’d been dropped into the middle of frigid nowhere. She didn’t blame him for over-dressing. Northwest weather was capricious. It could be bitter cold one minute, pouring balmy torrential rain the next.
He was as long-legged as she remembered. As tan. His body was the perfect balance of lean muscle and sharp angles. He’d unzipped his jacket once he’d taken a seat, revealing a chiseled chest wrapped inside a tight black shirt that showed off his pecs. Those muscled thighs challenged the fabric of the black denim he wore. The younger man she’d known had changed into one helluva mature specimen. She squinted at the gold logo sitting high on that chest. The TEAM, huh? That was who he worked for, that hotshot covert surveillance company out of Virginia. Lucky them.
He still moved like a panther, not wasting energy or time. But unlike the yellow-eyed beast of the Everglades, his eyes were a heart-stopping, beautiful liquid brown. As deep as a well, filled to the brim with rich, dark coffee. Still as hot. Still razor-sharp. Enhanced by thick black lashes that drew her attention to them when he blinked. She could’ve sat there and looked at him forever and never gotten her fill.
He’d doffed his cap, revealing a head nearly shorn of what she knew could be rich, lush black hair if he’d let it grow. Cool to the touch. Soft as a lamb. Its length seemed to dictate his soul. It was longer before he enlisted. He’d been a gentle lover and her best friend then. She’d told him everything. That was how it was for them. They finished each other’s sentences. Laughed together. Studied together. Made love together. In the shower. On the couch. The floor. That tiny breakfast table they’d dragged home from a yard sale. Every. Where.
But the day he came home with his hair cut high and tight, everything between them changed. Gone was her sweet, soft-hearted boyfriend. In his stead was a task-driven soldier with no patience. Prone to argue over the smallest things. Moody. Abrupt. Driven to be all he could be. Which was when everything went wrong. Well, not precisely then, but shortly after, as in the day she heard from the FBI.
“Guess what?!” she nearly shrieked the second Heston cleared his front door, she was so excited. She ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Guess who hired me? Today! The FBI! I’m supposed to report for duty as soon as possible, no later than seven days from today! That’s one week, Hes! I’m going to be a bonafide federal agent! Can you believe it? Me? Working for Uncle Sam? I’ll be just like you!” Like a little girl at dance class, she performed a silly pirouette with her hands cupped over her head. She was so thrilled her hard work paid off. She was on top of the world!
“Can you believe that?” she asked again.
He just stood there in the doorway. Quiet. His eyes dark and—angry? “Not now, London.”
“Not now? Aren’t you happy for me?” She had to know. This was an important day for both of them. They’d be leaving Killeen, Texas, at the same time. He on to another deployment. Her to Virginia for months of training and drills and more education. And yes! She’d finally be FBI Special Agent London Wilde. Her dream had come true. Life couldn’t get any better.
He shook his head. “Have you thought about the ramifications of you taking off for the East Coast? By yourself? Alone? Without me?”
“But we’ve talked about this. A lot. This was always my plan, to work for the Bureau. To do something that matters. You know that.”
“It’s dangerous!” he boomed, slamming the door behind him, then kicking it shut again when it bounced back and hit his rear-end. “I won’t have you putting yourself in harm’s way. Damn it, London. Not now.”
“Excuse me? You won’t have me putting myself in harm’s way? What about when you deploy? It’s okay for you to risk your life, but I’m supposed to sit home and do what? Nothing? Sit on my thumbs? Wait for you to call or come home while I worry myself sick?” Her Irish spiked straight up her spine, stiffening her resolve. “Yes, now,” she asserted stubbornly. “We had a plan, and I’m sticking to—”
“Plans change. You’re not going. Period. The FBI is no place for a woman. Christ, London, look at you” —he did a Vanna White sweep of her body like she was a contestant’s prize instead of the only student who’d aced her criminal law class— “a hundred pounds soaking wet—if you’re dressed. You’re too beautiful. Too delicate. Who’s going to take you seriously? Tell me, huh? Who? Some cartel boss with a shiv up his sleeve? Some shyster who kidnaps little girls, then fucks them to death, little girls who look just like you? You’re a dreamer, London. You go, you’re a loser!”
She almost caved, because, well, Heston Contreras was the man of her dreams. The tall, dark, lean, and handsome man of her dreams. And he was smart, might even be right. Working for the FBI would be dangerous. Could be deadly. Just like his job was. She loved him.
But he’d gone too far and he’d been too harsh.
London dug her heels in and crossed her arms over her chest. “If I’m a dreamer, you’re a hairy ape with a brain the size of a pea. I’m going, Hes. Like we planned. If you—”
“No, London. I’m putting my foot down and telling you no. Should’ve done it a long time ago. Should never have let you take those online classes to finish your degree. No more narrow-minded excuses. Jesus, why can’t you stay home like other wives?”
That did it.
“Gee whiz, maybe because I’m not anyone’s wife? And I’ve worked hard to get this job!” Now she was yelling, out of sheer exasperation. But damn it, what had gotten into Heston? Did he think he could boss her like he did the guys who worked for him? “They chose me, Hes. Don’t you know how big a deal working for the FBI is? I’m one of only a hundred applicants that—”
“I don’t care about them. I just care about you!”
And there it was. Total male domination wrapped up in a pretty pink bow of “I care.” Like a care package of suffocating guilt that stifled every last one of her dreams. Every last brain cell in her empty head. Made her feel guilty for wanting a career as much as he’d wanted to join the Army. She’d supported him then. Why couldn’t he support her now? Well, no more.
London took a deep breath to control her trembling. She swallowed hard to summon enough saliva to talk reasonably. And clearly. “It seems to me everything is always about you,” she said calmly. “What you care about. What you decide is best. I know you mean well, Heston, but you use that macho caring to make me feel guilty and to bully me into submission. To get what you want. Don’t you understand how that minimizes me? How your need to control me negates my opinions? My dreams? I didn’t go to college all these years to back out now. Especially since you’re going to Ranger school in a few months. Then maybe Delta, right?” She had him there, and she knew it. Why should she stay safe there in Killeen while he marched out into the world and served the same country she wanted to serve?
“You heard me,” he growled threateningly. “I don’t have time for this tonight. Where’s dinner? I’m tired. I’ve had a really bad day. Enough.”
“But Heston—”
“I said enough!” He stalked for their bedroom.
Where he’d be sleeping alone for a damned long time. She was so, so angry. But she didn’t call him on his bullshit. Nope. Not this time. Maybe never again. He wouldn’t listen anyway.
She’d—they’d—had a plan. For years. And yes, plans changed, because now she knew she didn’t need any male dictating the rest of her life. He’d had enough? Well, she did, too. Quietly, she turned the knob to the door he’d slammed, and she left. Just walked away from the argument she couldn’t win, caught the bus to Austin, and from there, the only flight headed to the East Coast. It was time for her to be all she could be, too.
Look out world, here I come.
That was the last thought in her head that night. How London wished she could go back in time, morph into some dutiful, subservient, brainless, and submissive little housewife. Like the old black-and-white sitcom from the 1950s, “The Donna Reed Show.” Donna was the type of woman all men seemed to admire, and obedience was surely what they wanted in a wife. Someone complacent who sat around all day, dreaming how she could please her man when he got home from the office, like she was a slave or too dumb to do anything else. Someone who loved to clean house in her chiffon dress. While she wore heels and smiled like a lunatic…
All. Day. Long.
Still wired from her latest rash decision that would most likely end with suspension or worse, being fired, London stretched a leg straight forward, fighting the urge to kick something—or someone. When the world came back into focus, Heston’s eyes were fixed on her. She swallowed hard, embarrassed he’d caught her watching him.
Tugging his earphones off, he tipped forward and put his elbows on his knees. “How’d Quantico work out for you, London? Was FBI training as tough as they say it is? Did you like it? Why aren’t you still working there?”
London shrugged. Might as well rip the band-aid off and get it over with. “I washed out.”
“Oh? How’d that happen? Talk to me. I’d like to know. You were so excited that night. So ready to work for the Bureau, and you are smart. I remember how smart.”
“You do?” She coughed to get the surprise out of her voice. “But, well, yeah. Training was, ah, brutal. I could run, jump, and shoot, sure. Got high scores in those disciplines, and I passed every other test with flying colors. But” —Damn this was hard— “FBI concussion protocol is strict for trainees. First time I went to the mat, I took a hard hit to my head. Right between the eyes. Knocked me out, and I didn’t come to right away.” She stuck a finger between her brows to show him where.
He winced. “Ouch. Sounds like illegal contact to me.”
“It was, but yeah. That’s how they train. You’re supposed to be prepared for anything and everything. Anyway, I went stars out and when I woke up, I was already in the Bureau’s clinic. Didn’t come to during transport. Didn’t wake up for almost a solid hour after they got me there. That’s when my handler warned me, ‘That’s one strike. Two more and you’re out.’ ”
She scratched that spot between her brows, not because there was a scar there or that it itched. She just needed something to do. “Second strike came twenty days later during my first live case. I’d been cleared for active duty. Someone robbed a bank in downtown Arlington. I had him dead to rights, but he had a partner. A woman. Only I thought she was an innocent bystander because she was watching from a crowd of spectators, you know? I didn’t see her in time.”
“Tough break.” He almost sounded like pre-Army Heston. Her Heston. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man who used to care about them, not just about the Army.
“Yeah, tough break,” London admitted. “My fault. Should’ve kept better track of my surroundings. Didn’t see her coming. She got too close and nailed me with an elbow. Knocked me down. I landed hard and my head hit the curb. Got a hairline skull fracture out of that one. It was permanent desk duty from then on or give up my dream of active service, so I bailed. I didn’t train hard to end up a desk jockey. Been a LEO for the Forest Service since then.” Until now. Whatever Bates told the disciplinary board could end her career—if three wasted years could be called a career.
“We’ll be landing soon,” Heston said. “You ever think about us?”
“Nope,” she replied, popping the P for all it was worth, not going down that rabbit hole again. Might as well piss off Heston now, before he started telling her what to do, how to think, and who to dream of. He might’ve been right about her not being able to physically fight off aggressors, though. And, yes, the Bureau hadn’t been a good fit for her. She knew that now. But he’d been so mean about it. Insulting. And he’d called her a dreamer.
Well, duh. Guess what. People who accomplish things have big dreams. Like me!
Dreams were what put the first men on the moon and the first women into space. If they could be astronauts, she could be somebody, too. She could! Just had to find the right niche. Might not be working with men, though. That was the common thread in all her failures, men who thought they knew better than she did.
“I do,” he said quietly. “I think about us all the time. Never thought I’d see you again, babe. Sure glad I did.”
Babe. Why’d he have to say that?
London jerked her gaze back to that damned setting sun. Why’d he have to sound so sincere? And look so good? She could almost taste him on her tongue again. Her stupid heart hadn’t slowed down since she’d come to the door behind Captain Bates. Since the first word out of Heston’s mouth. God, he had soft lips that could melt a girl’s heart. And that man could kiss.
He’d looked so damned hot the way he’d handled Bates with deliberate calmness, and she’d nearly broken out in a fever at the take-no-prisoners vehemence in his declaration that he’d find the Stewarts. Heston had always been that guy, the one who wouldn’t back down. She knew he’d been in plenty of fights as a kid defending other classmates or neighborhood kids from bullies. He had scars to prove it. His determination to advocate for weaker kids drove his sweet mother crazy, but he’d never walked away from a fight, not even when he’d been outnumbered. Yeah, he was—that guy. That crazy, hot-as-hell guy who even now had more courage than brains and who still set her stupid heart atwitter.
She scrubbed a quick hand over her jacket zipper, aiming for her poor aching nipples that were obviously happy, happy, joy, joy to see him. So happy, they were hard as tiny, sensitive rocks inside her sports bra. Which was all the more reason to keep her distance from Heston Contreras. If she didn’t, she’d end up back where she’d started. Minimized and bullied by his dominant male version of “caring.”
Yet she couldn’t help but be amazed at how he’d taken command of the situation with Bates. Hadn’t backed down. How tender he’d been with Kelsey Stewart. How caring with Alex. He’d kept calling Alex, boss. Did that mean Alex owned The TEAM? Working for Mr. Stewart sounded like a good idea, except... That might mean working with Heston.
No. Way. Problem was, the more reasons she found to keep her distance, the more her heart called for him. She needed to set that straight. “I don’t think of us. Been too busy. Got too much to do. There is no us.” Lies. All lies.
Damned if he didn’t fall forward to one knee on the floor between them. She tipped back, but not far enough. He almost crashed onto her lap, his arms stiff, his hands on both sides of her shoulders. Close enough to kiss. But he didn’t gather her lying ass into his strong, broad chest like she suddenly wished he would. There was no hugging or holding. No physical contact at all. He was doing it again. Being a man. Stealing her breath. Making her hyperventilate and her heart pound. Killing her gently. And surely.
“That’s too bad,” he whispered into her ear. “Have a good life, London. No matter where you go, I’ll always love you. Hope you still believe that.”
Her heart jumped into her throat, and her nostrils flared at the musky scent of this man. Her man. Like every time he’d gotten this close before, that feral, masculine scent came to her mixed with pine, smoke, and clean sweat. The perfect trifecta of smells.
“Huh?” was all her frazzled mind could come up with. Her answer would’ve sounded more absolute if the scruff on his chin hadn’t brushed her cheek when he pulled back and returned to his seat. “Yeah, okay. Yeah,” she sputtered like an imbecile. “Okay. Back off. Leave me alone.”
The second he did, she jerked her gaze back outside the helo. The storm had finally squeezed the life out of those last gorgeous fingers of sunshine, and the light at the edge of the world went out. Just like the light in her heart. Shit, shit, shit. Why had she packed so much indifference into that goodbye? She’d sounded heartless, when that was the last thing she was.
With her boundaries so cruelly declared, all London had left was darkness and the big, fat tear glimmering in the corner of her eye. Men! Why’d they all have to be so… so…
No satisfying descriptor came to her flustered mind. She pressed a hand on her chest to get her heart to stop pounding. Damned thing seemed to want to leap out of her chest and straight into Heston’s big, warm hands. Too bad. He’d had his chance at happily-ever-after and he’d blown it. Big time. London refused to give up on her dreams just because of this chance meeting.
Fate did not rule her, damn it. This was just—and only—a freaking coincidence.