Luke
Aara deserved a real birthday. One that didn’t go up in flames. What she got in its place was disaster on every front imaginable. After we left her burned apartment complex, I drove us home where her friends and family were supposed to be waiting. On the drive though, she decided she didn’t want to talk to anyone and feign interest in small talk. I gave her space while she talked on the phone nearly the rest of the night. First to Marissa, only because I heard Dagger’s name hurled around. Then her parents because her tone changed to worry. I’m not sure who else she spoke to as I worked out across the hallway, doing my best to seem busy and intent on my workout.
We didn’t talk about deployment. About living on the same ship and not being able to touch each other. Or be real around each other. Or the fact that she would be my boss. Or any of the other things that goes along with a taboo relationship in the world’s most stringent, dangerous profession. We should have. We’re on a ship now. Other than those working the mess hall, two intelligence officers, and the captain, the rest are SEALs. Marissa happens to be one of those officers and I know for a fact Lt. Williams had something to do with that tasking so Aara would have a form of support in the ship filled with men on her first, official assignment.
Sailing to the coast of Africa will be seamless, save for having to watch Aara from afar. I’m doing that now, as she sits in a meeting in the main conference room below deck. The windows surrounding the square room are soundproof, but crystal clear. Everyone has on uniforms, the thickly starched camo pants and jackets a curse after being off deployment for so long. In down hours we’re allowed to wear our PT clothes, but I’ve rarely seen Aarabelle one on one because she’s taking her position seriously. As she should. I can’t imagine having to convince people of my value and authority. Because I’ve never had to. Power comes standard when you’re born with more testosterone than estrogen.
Dagger comes up behind me. “Liam Dempsey called the main line looking to talk to Little Dempsey about an hour ago.” The tone of his voice forces me to meet his eye. “He knows.” He furrows his brow.
“About what?” There are so many lies surrounding me, it’s complicated to keep the truths straight.
“Your fucking love child.”
I close my eyes. “It might not be mine.”
“Does Aarabelle know that, though? Or is her dad going to call and tell her about your pregnant ex-girlfriend? I mean, there’s only one way she’s going to take that news. It ain’t a good thing.”
“Walk.” I lean my head to the side gesturing toward another, smaller conference room used for sand table planning. Once I close the door behind us, I say, “I paid for the paternity test yesterday. I sent her the money, and had Jonas’ colleague follow her to the doctor’s appointment.” I shudder inwardly. “This needs to go away. The more I think about it, the more I know there’s no way it’s mine.”
Dagger folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair. “I’m surprised she agreed to the test. How do you know that’s what she’s having done? It’s not like your man can trail her into the office and watch the test.”
This is the part that makes me uneasy. “I have to trust her. I’ve tried to talk to her several times and she doesn’t want to talk. Ever since the fire,” I say, choking on the last word. “I had someone trail her to make sure she didn’t do anything else crazy. That’s not her, bro. That’s what is so confusing.” I run my hands through my hair and wince. “If Liam tells Aara before I have the facts, it’s going to be bad.” I pause and then meet Dagger’s dark gaze. “How did you know why Liam was calling?”
He lifts and lowers one shoulder. “I took the call. He asked me outright if I knew. He got a tip from someone and probably dug a little to figure out if it could be true.”
“Jesus, he’s really on the hunt.”
“With good reason. It’s his daughter you’re toying with. He’s not the only one on the hunt.”
Chantal.
I narrow my eyes. “Toying with? You think I’m toying with her? What part of protecting her at all costs don’t you get about this situation? Do you not see how this would hurt her?”
Dagger’s lips pull into a firm, warning line. “I’m a fucking monster but even I know that you don’t protect someone by lying.”
“I don’t even know if it’s a lie yet. Don’t you get it? I need facts. Only facts. Then I’ll deal with it.”
“What then? You’ll stop her from talking to her dad until the test comes back? How long does something like that even take? Not telling all of the truth is the same as a lie. Deception by omission. Little Dempsey will not be quick to forgive when she finds out you have known this entire time.”
“I threw a ton of money at it to rush the results.”
“That was chivalrous of you. Tell me, Hart. The baby is yours. What’s next?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I do whatever Chantal wants, right? That’s the correct answer? I don’t know, man. If I think about it too much, I won’t be able to deal with the other aspects.” Like keeping Aarabelle from putting this together.
There are windows in this office space as well, and Aara walks down the narrow corridor with a few other officers, folders and books in her hands. Her smirk is sultry and happy when her gaze meets mine, but because she knows me the way she does, it vanishes when she glimpses the panic seeping from my body. Her big eyes turn down in the corner as she passes by.
“I need you to man the office for the rest of the day, even if that’s not your position, and field all the fucking personal phone calls in and out.”
“Hey, it’s your grave. I’m just helping dig it.” Dagger stands, stretching his legs and holding a hand on his stomach. He gets seasick, which is ironic and one of his only noticeable faults.
“Fuck off.” I’ve done worse for him, so I know he’ll obey. “You still with Marissa?”
He winks at me and puts up finger guns. “Seeing her tonight.”
I shake my head. “So fucked up.”
“It’s not. She’s intelligence. She’s not one of us. You knew this wasn’t going to end well. Maybe this Chantal shit will end it and you can get back to normal life. Work will be work and home will be home.”
