
Some mistakes from the past haunt us forever...unless fate steps in with a second chance.

One 'Dear John' letter haunted Bobby Baker's every living moment. It was the letter he'd stupidly written to his high school sweetheart, Belle, right after he had left to join the Army. The letter in which he'd told her that he wasn't so sure they were ready for forever yet. Before he could let her know that the letter, and his second thoughts, were nothing more than a mistake, she disappeared from the small Georgia town they had both been raised in.

Fifteen years after the letter, Belle unknowingly walked back into Bobby's life when her job as an ATF Agent forced her to work with a group of men secretly headed by the CIA to help her track down whoever was involved in funneling black market weapons to a drug cartel in Mexico.

Bobby planned to use this mission to try to soothe Belle's hurt feelings while proving to her that their love was meant to be forever. He would use every dirty trick he'd learned since he had joined the Army to maneuver her back into his life for the long haul. Belle was not making it easy, though, as she continued to keep him at arm's length in the hopes that mistakes of her own would never come to light. 
Raves for the novels by

JESSIE LANE

Secret Maneuvers

"...I couldn't put it down. It's not just the love story between Belle and Bobby, the suspense, the action, the drama, the friendships, the loyalty... I could go on and on. There is relatability to the characters, it's a well written, well thought out and developed plot... I loved this one, by far one of my top ten reads so far this year!"

\- USA Today Bestselling Author Chelsea Camaron

"First loves, second chances, and too many heart-stopping moments to count!! Secret Maneuvers is without a doubt sure to be a huge hit, because this story is romance magic from page one up until the very end!! I lost count of how many times I had to use the highlight feature on my iPad with this story, there were just so many great moments and lines that I wanted to go back to! Whether they were tender or filled with raw emotion, hilarious or beautiful, this was just one of those stories that gives you a little of everything to endure and enjoy!"

\- The Autumn Review

"The author manages a lightness and humorous atmosphere, even though the story is highly emotional at the same time... Not only does it have bone-melting romance but thrilling action scenes as well. The writing is, as always, engaging and draws you in on page 1. I'm excited to find out who is next in the Ex Ops series! If you haven't read Jessie Lane yet, what are you waiting for?"

\- Swept Away By Romance

Stripping Her Defenses

"STRIPPING HER DEFENSES Blew. Me. Away! I liked this one even better then the first book, SECRET MANEUVERS. The characters were engaging, the pacing perfection, and the story-line was dynamic. This is Jessie Lane's best work yet!"

\- Reading Between the Wines Book Club

"In this installment, Lane addresses the serious topics of depression, death, and how to deal with being married to a military spouse. A deep emotional tidal wave ebbs and flows throughout the story as Lane flips back and forth to let us see the reasons behind a failed marriage and the steps one woman takes to reclaim her life and self-worth. Steamy sex scenes spice things up the storyline while heart to heart dialogue keeps the story from becoming just another "trope." Humor injects randomly to offset the somber tones while interesting new characters are introduced to announce a spin off series Lane is creating with fellow writer, Chelsea Cameron."

\- Smexy Books

Ice

"There is angst, yes. There is drama, yes. There is suspense, yes. There is sexiness, yes. But I think what it is, the reason behind why I liked this so much is the reason behind the MC. The driving force, the reason why they do what they do, why they were founded. I don't know that I have read a book like this one before."

\- Books chocolate and lipgloss

"The action in this book truly has you on the edge of your seat. Chelsea and Jessie have you smiling and then nervous with each page turned. There was one scene that I was shocked and gutted. It was hard for me to read (and I have read some shocking, gruesome scenes) but this one...WOW this one was truly shocking!"

\- Halos and Horns Book Blog

Hammer

"This story was so much more than I expected... I just love a badass with a warm gooey center!"

\- Belle's Book Bag

"I have waiting for a year for Hammer and it was WELL worth the wait. Camaron and Lane did not disappoint in this story. I actually think they kicked the volume WAY up in this one with Hammer and Desirae. This story was intense and sexy... If you enjoy a different type of MC romance, then definitely add this series to your TBR list."

\- The Book Chick
Secret Maneuvers

Ex Ops Series #1

By Jessie Lane

Copyright © 2013 by Jessie Lane

Published by Whiskey Girls Publishing

All rights reserved.

Edited by C&D Editing, Asli Fratarcangeli, Read Head Editing & Shannon Webb

Cover Design by Jessie Lane

Cover Images by: © Igor Kireev | Jaroslav74 | Shutterstock

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Copyright © 2013 by Jessie Lane

SMASHWORDS EDITION

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Jessie Lane, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else.

The purchase of this e-book allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This book contains mature content not suitable for readers under the age of 18. This book contains content with strong language, violence, and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are over the age of 18.
Other Titles from Jessie Lane

Ex Ops Series

Secret Maneuvers

Stripping Her Defenses

Mission Delivery

Sweet Agony

Sweet Recovery

Sweet Eternity

Bullets and Bluebonnets

Regulators MC Series

(co-written with Chelsea Camaron)

Ice

Hammer

Coal

Big Bad Bite Series

Big Bad Bite

Walk On The Striped Side

Big Bad Bite Returned

The Demon Who Loved Me

Star Series

(co-written with M.L. Pahl)

The Burning Star

The Frozen Star

Standalone Stories

Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind

(co-written with Abbie Zanders)

Purrfect Santa

(co-written with Chasity Bowlin)

The Alpha's Secret Family

Lone Wolf Wanted

Sassy and a little Bad-Assy

Bears Do It Better
Secret Maneuvers

Ex Ops Series Book 1

Jessie Lane

Dedication

First, I would like to dedicate this book to my Nana, who passed away at the end of April 2013. She told me many times how proud she was of me for pursuing my dreams and Secret Maneuvers was the book she was waiting to read. I miss and love you Nana. Thank you for being the wonderful grandmother that you were. You'll always be with me in my heart.

Secondly, this book is dedicated to all of the men and women who wear the uniform and fight for our freedom. You're an inspiration and a daily reminder that freedom is not free. It comes with hefty price tags that you all shoulder for the rest of us. Thank you.
Acknowledgements

I'd like to start by thanking my Daddy. Even though he likes to pick on me for writing romance novels, he's still pretty awesome about answering the gabillion questions I have about weapons and the military during the writing process. So thank you Daddy, for just being you. Which sometimes is a crotchety old man who still rocks out to George Thorogood's Bad to the Bone on his air guitar, but I wouldn't have you any other way. I love you tremendously.

To my friend Aimee, who was part of the inspiration behind Annabelle's character. Thank you woman! And I mean dag-gum! LOL.

Next I'd like to thank my two beta readers: Crystal at Reading Between the Wines and Laura at Little Read Riding Hood. You two ladies are amazing, and I simply adore you! Thank you for being such great friends.

To Alizon and Kristin at C&D Editing, thank you for the hard work ladies. Love you for what you do!

A big shout out to all of the reviewers! You all are a truly amazing bunch and I love working with you! Thank you for the love and support you've shown me this past year. Lastly, to the readers who support me by buying my books! Thank you bunches! You are amazing. I wouldn't be here without you.
Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Epilogue

Note From The Author

About The Author

Connected Books

You May Also Like
Prologue

Annabelle

The Georgia summer night air was hot and humid, but that didn't stop me from cuddling as close as I could get to the boy I loved most in this world. The sweet smell from the azalea blossom that Bobby Baker had tucked behind my ear drifted around me, creating a false sense of security. My chin was settled on the back of my left hand as I lay propped up on his chest. With so much weighing on my mind, I was distractedly staring into oblivion over his body in the general direction of Bobby's beloved 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500.

The car's black paint blended with the night, but its white racing stripes glowed brightly down the center in the soft moonlight. Bobby said the only thing that he loved more than his car was me. However, love wasn't strong enough to stop him from leaving me behind tomorrow.

He kept telling me that I was worrying too much. That everything was going to be alright. No matter his reassurances, the massive lump of dread in the pit of my stomach wasn't going away. The uneasy feeling you get when something terrible was about to happen was haunting my every moment, and it was only a matter of time before whatever it was would come to pass. The question was, would I come out alright on the other end of the impending catastrophe?

Sprawled on top of a blanket on the bank of the creek, my mind was moving faster than the speed of light at what lay ahead of us tomorrow. Bobby was holding me tightly while he stared at the bright stars above us. The familiar sounds of the critters in the forest, accompanied with the crickets around us, did nothing to ease the heavy silence that Bobby and I were trying carefully to tip-toe around.

What felt like a thousand pounds of pressure on my chest eventually became too much. I resigned myself to broach the subject he was trying desperately to avoid. "What time do you leave tomorrow, Ace?"

Bobby's hand tightened on my shoulder for a second before he started stroking the bare skin above my tank top. "I've got to be at the bus stop at seven."

My chest seized up and the ability to breathe suddenly felt impossible. Fighting my instinct to sob uncontrollably was almost painful, but necessary, as I reminded myself tonight would be the last night we would have to spend together for months. Tomorrow he was headed to Fort Leonard Wood in Waynesville, MO for ten weeks of Army Basic Training. After that, it would be at least fourteen weeks that he would be gone during the next phase of training for an Infantryman position. Even longer if he was selected to attend Ranger school. Months and months before I could see, taste or touch him again. I had to reassure myself in the most basic ways that Bobby Baker, one of the town's golden boys, was really and truly all mine; that someone like him could, in fact, love a girl like me; to have the physical proof from his hands and mouth as they touched me that I was not alone in this world. Those were hard facts for me to accept when Bobby was all I genuinely had here.

Sensing the direction of my thoughts he grabbed my chin gently and turned it so I was looking at him. "Don't think about it tonight, Belle. Tonight is just for us, remember? Come here." Rolling to his side, Bobby pulled me up the last few inches so that we lay facing each other while he stroked his fingertips down the side of my face. "Don't feel sad, baby. What's our plan?"

Holding back the tears that threatened to escape from my eyes, I placed one of my trembling hands over his heart. "You're going to basic. While you're gone, I'm supposed to stop by your momma's as often as possible, so everyone knows I'm okay. If Daddy gets drunk or becomes trouble again, I call your dad right away to come and get me. Then, when you're done with all of your school, you're going to come back and get me because I'll finally be eighteen. You'll take me far, far away from this small town and we'll live happily ever after."

Cocking his devastating good ol' boy grin, Bobby nodded his head. "That's right, baby. Don't forget the plan. You've only got to make it a little while without me. Then first chance I get, I'll be back for you. You're the town tough girl. You'll be just fine. Promise me, though, if you run out of food again, you'll go see Mom."

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I knew he was looking out for me, but who wanted to admit they often went hungry because their father would rather buy his booze and cigarettes than provide a warm meal for his child? Tucking my chin to my chest I murmured, "Promise."

"When I get back on leave, we'll have our happily ever after, Belle. You and me forever, with no one standing in our way. I'll get to wake you up in the morning with those slow kisses you love so much. Put you to bed at night after I've touched every inch of your sweet, little body with my hands." My body gave an involuntary shiver at his words. "Come here and give me some hot memories to keep me warm on the lonely nights to come, baby." Bobby's mouth covered mine. His tongue caressed my own in sweet, smooth strokes that warmed me from the inside out. He kissed me senseless until I had to gasp for air. "Do you feel better now?"

He wasn't talking about my emotional state of mind. I'd had a horrible case of strep throat, and my dad had refused to take me to a doctor. After missing a few days of school because my fever was over one hundred two degrees, Bobby finally talked me into going to his house so his parents could try and help me. His father might be a farmer, but his uncle was the small town's physician. After one phone call, a home visit from Dr. Baker, and strict instructions for drinking as many fluids as possible while taking the medication, my fever had finally broke. Now, a week and a half later, I felt like my old self again. Or, at least, I would if my heart wasn't breaking into a million pieces inside my chest.

"Yeah, Ace. All better. The antibiotics cleared me right up."

"Good," he said softly before gently brushing his lips against my own. I brought my hand up to cradle the side of his face, sweeping my thumb over his cheekbone. My eyes traveled slowly over Bobby's face, memorizing every feature he had. Starting with his thick, lush, chestnut hair with subtle blond highlights, due to his long days spent in the sun. That hair curled around his ears and dropped down into his eyes since he'd forgone his usual monthly haircuts. His extraordinary baby blue eyes with flecks of white and gray reminded me of sunny days spent lazing about in a hammock, cuddled next to him in the Bakers' backyard. They were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. His prominent cheekbones, straight nose, and strong jaw completed the handsome face of a boy who was on the verge of becoming a man. The kind of good looks you knew would only get better with age. He was attractive now, but when he was older, I knew he was going to be the kind of stunning women became mesmerized with.

I felt the familiar overwhelming awe fill me for what had to be the millionth time in the past two years. I didn't know if I would ever be able to accept that the popular, hometown boy had taken a chance on the bad girl from the wrong side of the trailer park. He was the football star. I was the angry girl with a massive chip on her shoulder and my middle finger stuck up in the air at the world. Bobby made excellent grades, and all the teachers loved him. For the most part, my teachers ignored me as long as I had a passing grade in their class. Heaven forbid any of them actually took a chance to get to know me. To see that there was a core of goodness tucked away underneath the rebel attitude. Bobby was a good ol' boy who went hunting and fishing with his daddy, as well as their friends. He never got in a lick of trouble and seemed to excel at everything. That's why I'd nicknamed him Ace. He was always 'acing' anything he tried, to the point it just about made you sick that he was always so talented. No matter the difficulty level of the task you put before him, he would complete it with quiet efficiency as if he was born to do it. He was perfect. I, however, was as far from perfect as you could get. Bobby somehow managed to see the best in me. He loved me in spite of my flaws.

We were from two different worlds. The town may not think much of me, but none of that mattered because Bobby Baker had decided to chase me down, drag me home to his parents, and then do his best to show me that I could have a family that loved me. I didn't have to resign my life to a drunken, abusive father, who beat my mother into the ground until it killed her. To open paths of possibilities for me, instead of the run down life I thought I was doomed to.

Bobby Baker was my world. My heart. My soul. The reason I woke up every day with the desire to get out of bed and face a world that seemed like its favorite hobby was to find ways to kick me when I was already down. Bobby made putting up with all of the heartache possible.

Hell, he was my hero.

Without him, I doubted I could survive in this crazy world we lived in. Luckily he was always promising that I would never have to worry about a world where there wasn't some part of him that would always be with me. I prayed every night that he was right about that.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, I watched as he used his free hand to smooth the hair back from my face; running his callused fingers through the strands as he leaned down over me until our faces were only an inch apart. "Love you, Belle."

Bobby crushed his lips over mine again, stealing the breath from me as he moved his body over mine. Propping himself up on one elbow, he used his other hand to pull my tank top over my head, lying it on the grass somewhere next to the blanket. His hands roamed my body until I was burning for this boy who meant everything to me.

When it felt as if I might explode from his torturous play, he sat up to strip off his shirt. Then he shucked off his shorts and boxers so he stood proudly naked above me wearing nothing except that easy, cocky grin of his and what God graciously gave him; a trim body lightly muscled from days playing football and hard work on his parents' farm. Chest, arms and legs were deeply tanned in stark contrast to his rich chestnut brown hair and remarkable eyes.

Kneeling next to me, he quickly pulled my cut off denim shorts and panties down my legs. Covering my body with his, he resumed to make me breathless with scorching kisses while his fingers trailed slowly down my body.

"You ready for me, baby?"

My back arched to the building sensation below. "Make love to me, Ace. I'm about to come and I wanna feel you inside me when I do."

"First, tell me who loves you."

"You do, Bobby."

"That's right, sweet baby. Remember that."

For the next hour, two sweat-slicked, teenage bodies tangled together in passion. Every thrust became a little more desperate than the last. Every moan a little louder. Each of us determined to show the other without words how much they felt with their hands, mouths and other parts. How deeply we cared. How consuming our commitment was. Cementing the unbreakable bond that had been in place for so long now, it felt as though we were a part of each other, even when we were in separate houses.

In moments such as this, I felt as if I couldn't tell where I began and Bobby ended. He had promised me this was what it would feel like till we were old and gray. When it was over, we laid on the blanket grasping each other tightly.

Dragging ragged breaths in, I whispered, "I love you, Ace. Forever."

Dropping his forehead to mine, he said, "I love you, too, Belle. Forever, baby."

~~~

Thirteen weeks later...

Pulling my dad's rust bucket of a pickup truck into the Bakers' front yard, I was a step away from hyper ventilating. This was it. I had to beg the Bakers' to let me move in with them because things had gone from shit to even shittier at my house. I didn't have much time to convince them. If the drunken, old coot came to from the nice little nap I'd caused by knocking him over the head with his own whiskey bottle to see that I'd taken his truck, he'd probably beat me worse than he'd already tried to this afternoon.

After today, I obviously could not stay with the inebriated ass that called himself my father anymore. Lord, I was up shit's creek without a paddle. I'd knocked that mean ol' shit the hell out and the only reason I wasn't having a nervous breakdown was because I'd checked his pulse before leaving the trailer. It was a sad, sad thought that as relieved as I was to feel his heart still beating and knowing I wouldn't be going to jail for killing my old man, I was equally disappointed he was still alive. He'd made my life a living hell and I couldn't care less whether he lived or died. I didn't want to end up behind steel bars for being the one that caused his evil ass to stop breathing. Since Bobby had left for the Army, I'd been so stressed out it had caused me to be physically sick. I'd lost a good fifteen pounds I didn't have to lose in the first place. My clothes had gone from loose to falling off.

That I hadn't heard from Bobby in almost two months didn't help my nerves either. I might not have felt so lost if my best friend, Teagan, hadn't left for the Marine Corps just weeks before Bobby had left for the Army. With her and Bobby both gone, though, my life felt like a ship tossing at sea with no land in sight.

The worst had to have been spending my eighteenth birthday alone. My father had tied one on the night before—no surprise there—and then passed out at one of his women's houses, forgetting all about it. Not that I expected him to care anyways. I should probably consider his absence a blessing. However, it didn't stop the little girl in me from feeling dejected. I'd received a five minute phone call from Teagan, which brightened my day, but not a word from Bobby. That had hurt the most. The rest of the evening, after Teagan's phone call, was spent bent over the toilet. It was far from the birthday of my dreams.

Looking in the rear view mirror, I tried my best to fluff my blond hair around my face. As long as the wind didn't blow it around too much, then the unruly waves should cover most of the purpled bruise that was left behind on the back of my jaw. I couldn't take his crap anymore. If he so much as tried to lay a hand on me again, I was going to end up being arrested for homicide. Or, at least, attempted homicide. It was time to get out while I still could before I ended up like my mother: beaten to death. Technically, Momma had died from a heart attack, but that heart attack had been caused by too much stress from her husband pummeling her bloody, on top of an already weak heart. I didn't think I had my mother's weak heart and I will be damned if I let that bastard beat me to death.

Mrs. Baker walked out onto the porch holding something in her hand. A somber expression on her face. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I forced myself out of the car until I stood at the bottom of the porch steps in front of her.

"Hi Mrs. Baker, how are you?"

"Fine, Belle. I'm glad you stopped by; you've got a letter from Bobby here. Why don't you sit down on the swing to read it, honey." Holding out her hand to me, I saw the envelope extended in my direction. Walking up the steps, I took the small envelope from her and stared at it. A sense of dread eased up my spine from a combination of her careful tone and what felt like an envelope that was way too thin. Something didn't feel right. Wouldn't Bobby have written me a nice long letter to let me know how much he loved and missed me? I expected lots of pages from him so he could tell me about everything he had done and seen so far. Not this little envelope that only looked big enough for a few sentences. I could write a book about how much I loved and missed him, surely he wrote me more than one page? Sitting down on the swing, my hands started to shake a little as I opened the envelope and pulled the short, one page letter out.

Dear Belle,

Sorry it has taken me so long to write you back. Life has been kind of hectic since I reached my new base for my Advanced Individual Training. Some days it feels like my world has been flipped upside down and it's caused me to do a lot of thinking. I've seen some cool things that would blow your mind. Met some interesting people, too. Guys my age and older guys who have left their families behind so they can start a military career. All these new experiences and people have given me a lot to think about. Listening to their backgrounds and stories make me realize how sheltered our life has been up until now. I'll be honest, Belle, I'm not sure I'm ready for forever. I'm not sure we should run off and get married right now. We're young. There are so many things we've yet to see and do in life. You've never set foot outside of Sylvania, and I don't want us to do anything now that we may regret down the road. Maybe we should take things slower. Take some time apart to make sure this is what we actually want in life before we make such a big jump. I love you, Belle. I'll always love you. You were the first girl who touched my heart. Who made me feel emotions outside of the ones I feel for my family. I'm sorry if this is coming out of left field for you and I hope you understand.

Love Always, Bobby

The words blurred together as small, wet spots started to appear on the page. In a matter of five minutes, my world had officially fallen apart. The paper trembled in my hands as my mind worked overtime and I began the process of turning my heart to solid steel in my chest; cutting off my emotions. A trick that had been in use every day of my life before Bobby Baker had ever stepped foot in it. I couldn't break down here in front of Mrs. Baker. No one got to see Annabelle Smith cry. Nobody. No matter how much it hurt. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to break me, but it would damn well be the last.

I should have listened to my instincts that had blared big, honking alarms the moment Bobby Baker had sat at my table in the high school cafeteria and said hello. Nobody as good and pure as Ace would ever want to settle for a girl who lived off of clearance cans of tuna fish and dressed in thrift store clothes. It was stupid to think anyone other than Teagan, who had placed herself in front of my father's fists to protect me, was okay to let close to my heart. She'd bought that loyalty from me with bruises and blood. Looking back now, I realized Bobby hadn't bought my loyalty with his love. He'd bought my body with false promises and kisses. Hadn't I lived a valuable lesson watching my mother take beatings from the man she loved?

Love was a joke.

A fairytale that mothers told their daughters while tucking them into bed at night just before the man they swore was their Prince Charming knocked the living shit out of them because supper was cold. It was a scam that conned stupid people into letting their guard down so some jerk could dig their way inside the deepest part of them, place a ticking bomb next to their soul, and then blow it to smithereens. I would never be stupid enough to let my emotional walls down again. Quickly wiping the tears from my face that had escaped despite my efforts, I stood and faced Mrs. Baker. A slight movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Looking over, I saw Mr. Baker was standing behind the screen door with his head hung almost to his chest, studying his boots in the uncomfortable silence.

"Thank you for giving me the letter, Mrs. Baker. I'll be on my way home now."

Side stepping her outreached hand I rushed to the truck and sped from the Bakers' home, kicking up dirt in my screeching tires' wake. I willed myself to keep it together long enough until I could go somewhere by myself to be alone. Somewhere, where I could fall apart before figuring out what the hell I was going to do next. It felt like the world had finally turned its back on me. With my shitty luck in life, I should have expected this sooner or later. Who would want to settle down with the town's trailer trash? Certainly not a respectable boy like Bobby Baker.

I was well and truly on my own. Nowhere to go, no one to care, and more questions than answers about what was going to happen next. As the view in front of me became one blurry piece of landscape that no longer seemed to make any sense, I pulled the truck over on the side of the country road and parked. Dropping my head to the steering wheel, my body imploded with pain as I felt my heart shatter in my chest. What in the hell was I going to do now?
Chapter

1

Bobby

Fifteen years later...

"Hey, Baker!" Riley Sullivan, a fellow member of the EX Ops team bellowed from the end of the hall in front of me. "You're late for the meeting! Get your ass in here before the Commander has a hissy fit and abandons you to some tropical shit-hole as punishment."

I turned on my cat-who-ate-the-canary grin and continued my lazy saunter down the hall towards the room. Abandoned to a jungle? Been there, done that. Got the stinking t-shirt to prove it, too. By stinking t-shirt, I meant the shirt I'd had to take off in the middle of the jungle and throw away because a monkey had thrown rotten fruit at me. Only the guys swore the brown stuff flung at me was not rotten fruit. The second that mission was over, I'd taken a shower so hot it could have boiled my ass alive if I'd stayed in there too long. However, if Jaxon, my stick-up-the-ass Commander, wanted to send me on a jungle vacation, I sure as shit wasn't going to complain. All I had to do was make sure to pack my weapons, ammunition, bug spray and plenty of fresh shirts. A machete might come in handy, too. I'd be happy to prove I could take anything Jaxon threw my way, monkey shit and all. It was better than sitting in my house, staring at blank walls.

Stepping through the door, I peered around the room at the unit before making my way to the back of the room to take the last available seat at the table. It was your standard conference room equipped with dull, white walls and cheap, commercial grade, gray carpet. No windows were allowed so whatever sensitive data being passed around in the room could be kept protected by those few select souls who were privileged enough to receive it. The room was lit by bright, halogen bulbs from the ceiling; lights that reminded me too much of the ceiling fixtures I'd had to stare at while I'd been laid up in a hospital bed years ago, immobile, with a bullet in my knee.

The only decorations were a giant, dry-erase board centered on the front wall, and oversized, framed quotes from heroes like Patton, "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country."

My personal favorite, Eisenhower's quote, hung several feet down from Patton's, "What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight—it's the size of the fight in the dog."

On the opposite wall hung Patrick Henry, "The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave..."

The fourth frame stated, "In war there is no substitute for victory", from MacArthur.

These were the extent of Commander Jaxon's attempts to keep his unit motivated. I thought that was crazy because we had the ultimate form of motivation whenever we were on a mission. You either stay focused or you got dead. See? Motivation. Anytime we were out doing what we were paid to do, we were on our own.

Those framed quotes existed in the real world a whole hell of a lot more than the EX Ops team did. Off the record, we were supervised by the Director of the CIA in conjunction with the Department Of Defense, and the men in this unit were mainly comprised of ex-military. We had one exception on the team because he'd been recruited from the CIA.

Most of my teammates had been actively recruited while they were still in service for whatever branch they worked for; Navy, Army, Marine Corps, and even one from the Air Force. Apparently, paperwork was nothing to those who ran EX Ops behind the scenes. Still in your four year contract with the Army? Not a problem. Suddenly you're miraculously and honorably discharged. Already submitted your paperwork to re-up for another six years in the Marine Corps? No biggie. Wouldn't you know there was a paperwork mix-up? You actually decided to go civilian instead of staying in the military. Lookie there, no more obligations to hold you back from joining us now.

I'd just been medically discharged due to a bullet to the knee when I was approached. Apparently, the Army thinks you can't be a fully functioning, bad-ass Ranger if your knee cap is replaced with a few metal bits. Which makes them entirely cracked in my opinion. It's not like I was the tin man and they had to keep me loaded up with body oil.

After a year of physical therapy, energized by nothing more than my dogged determination to still be all that I could be—despite what the Army thought—I was out of my soldier's career. Walking around in civilian life with nothing fun to do and too much time to think about shit I didn't need to think about. Like her. Next thing I know I'm approached by a couple of guys that make spies working for the CIA look like jackass amateurs. With one question, they had my full attention, "Would you like to serve your country in ways you've never dreamed were possible?"

Does a monkey like to fling shit?

In other words, hell yes, but I want to know a few things first. With a few well-placed questions like— "Who the hell are you?" and "What's in it for me?" —next thing I know, I'm signing the dotted line to hand my life over to Uncle Sam in ways the Army never owned it.

I'm not talking about Uncle Sam on the Army recruitment poster either. No, I'm talking about my new boss, codename 'Uncle Sam.' No one knows what his real name is. I was informed during my orientation that all I needed to know was Ex Ops was secretly owned by the United States government with directives handed down by the President, sometimes at the behest of the DOD, and issued to us through our CIA handler, 'Uncle Sam'.

Fingerprints? Who needs those? Let's wipe the records of those suckers off the face of the earth so they're not an issue for later. Fake IDs needed for undercover jobs? No problem. Weapons and ammunition? Step over to what we like to call Toys 'R' Us for grown men. Pick a weapon, any weapon. Watch out for that flame thrower, though. It goes a lot farther than you think it does.

What are the catches? Well, now that you asked...we own you. As in, you don't take a crap without our sanctioning it first. Might as well go ahead and accept that. You have an initial six year contract you have to fulfill, with the option to renew after it's completed. No way out of it except going six feet underground, or wherever else your body may be dumped. Also, never, ever, talk about the team. We don't care if you're being tortured with bamboo under your fingernails or doing the dirty with your girl in the sack. Information about your Unit never leaves your mouth.

On paper, you are a privately funded Special Operations Team hired out for hostage rescue, high target bodyguards, and security specialists. Yes, you will take the occasional side job to help keep up this public opinion. Off paper, you are the U.S. government's go-to guy. In other words, if we can't legally send someone in to do the job, we'll send you instead. That way, if you screw up, there's no blow-back on us.

Uncle Sam decided they wanted a group of the best combined into a highly classified strike force for the most delicate situations the great U.S. of A. had to handle. Okay, maybe we weren't just the best. Some of us might be considered broken—such as myself—problem children who didn't follow orders well, or were flat out wild to the bone, but we all held skills other men failed to excel at. Not to mention these were missions in places Uncle Sam had no legal ground to send in military teams, like the Navy Seals or the Green Berets. So lucky guys like me were approached and recruited to join EX Ops because we seemed like the most unlikely characters the government would use. Then Uncle Sam could send us off on missions we might not return from without losing sleep at night.

Have I mentioned I love my job, yet?

For three years now, I'd been working with a group of eight men that made Rambo look like a jackass. I trusted each and every one of them implicitly to watch my back and work side by side with me on our missions. They weren't just my brothers in bullets and blood, they were also men I was fortunate enough to call my friends. We were as close as a bunch of guys who blew shit up and rescued sniveling politicians on a regular basis could get. It didn't stop me from snorting in disgust at the bright orange paper on the dry erase board that caught my eye as I parked my ass in a chair. Written on it in black marker, it read, 'I love the smell of napalm in the morning!' Shaking my head in disbelief, I looked over to the only idiot who would possibly tape that up there. The dumbass I grudgingly called my best friend anytime our asses were drunk at a bar and being rowdy: Declan Sullivan.

"You reject. You've been having one of your military movie marathons again, haven't you?" His cheesy smile was all the answer I needed. Shaking my head in disbelief I continued, "I knew I should have dragged your ass out of the house this weekend. Now you're going to try and do impersonations again until someone threatens to disembowel you with their KA-BAR. Fuckin' great."

A growl of annoyance cut through any further response I would have made. "Now that Ranger Boy has decided to grace us with his shining presence, we have a few minutes to go over some facts before our guests arrive to brief us on the mission," Commander Jaxon barked.

"Gentlemen, Uncle Sam has become aware of a situation involving the ATF. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms has been conducting an investigation in regards to black market firearms and ammunition buys from all over Texas. These supplies are being sold and then smuggled to a drug cartel in Mexico. Recently, they have received some intel from contacts that the Cartel is now in the process of a deal that would involve a bulk buy and shipment of firearms from an undisclosed location here in the U.S."

"The President of Mexico has been in contact with our President and the Director of the CIA. He has asked for our assistance in stopping any more buys from occurring and any more shipments that may take place. Our mission is to assist the ATF agents assigned to this investigation so they can uncover the source of the thefts and sales, as well as a possible raid of the buyers in Mexico."

A shrill beep cut through the silence of the room, and the eight of us sitting around the table in our various forms of civilian clothes watched Commander Jaxon Wall, a former Navy Seal, answer his secure SAT phone. After a few tense seconds, he gave a gruff, "show them in," before closing the phone to face us again. The sounds of booted steps echoed closer to our conference room until the door was opened by the escort, allowing a man who looked to be in his late thirties into the room. He had short, brown hair with hazel eyes and sported a slim, well-built body encased by khaki's and a black polo embroidered with the ATF logo on the chest.

The man was nothing noteworthy, just your average looking Joe. What made my breath catch was the woman who walked in behind him. Dirty blond hair, streaked with natural white-blond highlights was pulled back into a braid that fell halfway down her back. She wore low rise jeans that showed off a flat tummy and well-rounded ass. Her badge was belted to her waist with her gun in its holster on the opposite side. A fit black, short-sleeve polo—also embroidered with an ATF emblem—did nothing to hide her more than ample breasts; the kind that overfilled a man's hands. Even large hands like mine.

Moss green eyes scanned the room, roaming right over me. As if she didn't even know who the hell I was! It might have been fifteen years, but I damn sure knew who she was, despite the changes in her appearance.

Her body had changed a lot over the years. She'd been considered stick skinny back in those days because her shithead of a dad couldn't have cared less about whether there had been food in the house as long as he'd had a bottle of whisky to drink and cigarettes to puff on like a chimney. Now her belly was slightly rounded out instead of devastatingly caved in, her hips were lush, and her damn chest looked as if it were at least two sizes larger than what I'd lovingly held in my hands long ago. She'd filled out in ways I'd dreamed about when we were kids and all I could think about was having my girl safe under my own roof, feeding her regular meals, and making her happy. Her hair was way longer, but I bet once it was out of the tight, confining braid it was still the same mass of loose curls I had run my fingers through a thousand times before.

Unbelievable. Fifteen years later and Annabelle Smith was standing in my unit's meeting room as a freaking ATF agent after disappearing from our small hometown of Sylvania, Georgia. My first love—the one who I'd foolishly let get away—stood right in front of me, looking better than any of my vivid memories could ever do justice. My Belle.

I clenched my fists on top of my thighs to stop the urge of rushing up to grab her and drag her home with me. Years of looking, private investigators who gave me nothing except broken dreams, and she waltzed in here like she didn't have a care in the world. I did my best to calm the heart racing in my chest like it was jacked up on meth.

"Gentlemen, these are Agents Boyd and Roberts."

I felt my face morph into a mask of confusion. Roberts? Belle's last name wasn't Roberts. That was her best friend, Teagan's, last name. What the hell was going on here?

Jaxon continued speaking, "They're the two agents in charge of this investigation. We're on a short time table to get these two back to Texas, so let's get started with a brief introduction." Turning to face Belle and her partner he pointed to himself and said, "I'm Commander Wall. The men seated in front of you are Riley Sullivan, Declan Sullivan, Logan Price, Bobby Baker, Wyatt Brooks, Arturo Chavez, Chase Anderson, and Lucas Young. Now with that out of the way, would you please inform us of your operation as it stands right now?"

My confusion was quickly morphing into anger. Belle's eyes had passed right over me again as if she didn't even know who I was! I knew better, though. She knew exactly who I was and when this meeting was over I was damn well going to get some answers from her.

Belle handed Agent Boyd a bag before she stepped forward, while crossing her arms over her chest to face us. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Towards the end of 2010, Operation Fast and Furious ended shortly after the shooting death of a border patrol agent. Found with the border patrol agent's body were two AK-47's. It was later discovered these two weapons, along with over two thousand others, were sold to Mexican criminals under Project Fast and Furious in an attempt to trace their paths and get a larger picture of where guns like these were being used in the gun smuggling ring.

"Agent Boyd and I are here today because we have a contact inside the Rivera Cartel based outside of Monterrey, Mexico that informed us they have been buying firearms and ammunition from a source here in the U.S. They have managed to confirm several individuals the ATF already knew, or suspected, dealt with black market firearms sales. We've loosely connected a few of these individuals to Operation Fast and Furious. There's not enough evidence to stick on anyone right now, though. Only leads and suspicions.

"So far, we have been unable to track down the individuals behind these sales to the Rivera Cartel. To compound this problem, our source now tells us the Cartel is in negotiations for a massive purchase of firearms from this same source. We're not sure where the guns are or where they're coming from, but we need to figure it out, and quickly."

She paused for a second and gestured towards her partner. "What Agent Boyd is passing out to you is your own dossiers on the information we have of the past sales the Rivera Cartel has obtained. You'll find what information we have on the suspects we believe are involved in the sales, including the Cartel's leader, Miguel Rivera. In case you've been hiding underneath a rock somewhere for the past twenty years and have never heard of them, the Rivera Cartel is one of the strongest, deadliest Cartels in Mexico. It was started by Ricardo Rivera, Miguel's father, in the early 1990s. Ricardo kept the operation small, but since his death in 2008, Miguel has quadrupled his area and power. He's ruthless and it's paid off for him. He now owns most of the northeastern Mexican territories' drug routes. We also have intel he's expanding into human trafficking, pipeline trafficked oil, theft, and weapons trafficking. He's a power player that needs to be taken out."

Jaxon stepped forward to stand next to Belle. "Agent Roberts, if it's okay with you, I would like the men to take their dossiers home to study while they pack up. Then, perhaps, we can resume this meeting with any questions they have later tonight. I'd like everyone to ship out for Texas early tomorrow morning."

Nodding her head in approval, she agreed, "Sounds like a plan, Commander Wall. Contact us with the specifics later." Sticking her hand out to Jaxon, she gave him a confident shake before grabbing her messenger bag, then turning on her booted heel and exiting the room with her fellow agent.

As the eight men around me rustled papers from their dossiers and prepared to leave, I sat there dumbstruck. Belle had walked in and out of this room without acting like she knew me. A fury of wounded male pride flooded my senses. I'd be damned if she thought she was going to get away like that! Standing abruptly, my chair loudly clattered to the floor as I rushed out the door to follow her. My neck started to itch from the curious stares of my colleagues, but I didn't care what the hell they thought as I slowly jogged out into the hall after her.

"Belle!" She kept walking without acknowledging me. What the hell? "Belle! Wait up!" As Boyd stopped to turn at my approaching footsteps, confusion on his face, I reached out to grab Belle's arm with my right hand to stop her. Two seconds later, a shot of pain flashed up my arm as I found my hand pulled backwards and bent at a nearly debilitating angle. Belle's beautiful face stared back at me with bitter disdain. Anger simmered in her green eyes so fiercely, I felt the impact of it to the soles of my boots.

Boyd stepped forward to stand between us just as she released my hand and then held her other hand up to ward Boyd off from interfering. "Mr. Baker, I'll kindly ask you not to grab me. While you're at it, please refrain from calling me Belle. I go by Annabelle. Now, if you'll excuse me and my partner, we have things to do before tonight's meeting." Belle turned away and walked confidently down the hallway while Boyd gawked at me with open curiosity. With a shake of his head, he jogged after Belle, who had turned the corner, already disappearing from sight.

Standing there, feeling a myriad of emotions—shock, anger, confusion—I watched as the only girl who had ever held my heart did her damndest to walk out of my life; acting like she didn't give a shit as she did it. It felt like a sucker punch to the gut by a heavy-weight boxing champ. Apparently, fifteen years hadn't calmed the obvious anger, or pain, she harbored from the letter that haunted me. The letter I should have never written. She didn't even bother to give me five minutes to try and explain. To tell her two weeks after her receiving my letter, I'd had my parents desperately searching the entire fucking county for her, with strict instructions to tell her that I'd realized my mistake. To explain to her that I was stupid. Really, really stupid. And sorry. So fucking sorry.

A hand slapped down on my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder to see it belonged to Declan, which meant his brother, Riley, was the body standing on the other side of me. "I take it that's the famous Belle? The sweet, southern angel from home that got away?" Declan asked.

With a gruff voice, I answered, "Yeah. That's her, alright."

Riley snorted. "Well, brother, looks as if your angel is gone in more ways than one."

Annabelle

I sat with my forehead pressed to the steering wheel of the SUV rental, trying my best to take deep breaths and calm down. Was this some cruel joke from God? Had I not been good enough over the years that I could have been blessed never to see Bobby Baker for the rest of my days? Did I deserve this kind of karmic injustice? I'd been running from a shady past and some killer secrets, but I'd tried to balance out the scales by living a good life; one almost beyond reproach.

Now I'd run into Bobby-fucking-Baker, all these years later, looking better than sin on a stick in his tall, muscled, six-foot frame. Those devastating, baby blue eyes flecked with gray and white colors that reminded me of a Georgia summer sky dotted with clouds. Sexy, chestnut brown hair liberally highlighted with blond and cut short against his head. Mouthwatering lips I remember kissing me like it was yesterday and not fifteen years ago. No longer was there a young, eighteen-year-old boy to dream about. No, instead there was a hard, lusty man to drool over with the ruggedly handsome face I'd always known he'd grow into. There were probably a hundred women who'd accidentally run into glass doors or telephone poles because they'd been staring at that face of his with its masculine beauty instead of watching where they were walking. What could I have possibly done to deserve such severe punishment as having to run into the one man who'd broken my heart in so many pieces it had never been salvaged?

Boyd shifted uncomfortably in his passenger seat. "Want to talk about it Annabelle?" Yeah, emotional girl talks were not Boyd's forte.

"No, Boyd, I don't wanna talk about it. In fact, do me a favor. Let's pretend all of that didn't happen, okay?"

"That's him, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's him, alright. Hence why I don't wanna talk about it. That's why you're not gonna say a damn thing about me and my personal life, right?" Turning my head to glare at my partner with an 'I'll-kick-your-balls-to-your-throat' look, Boyd responded by shaking his head in disapproval before sighing.

"It's your life. I don't agree with it, but I promise not to say a word."

Heaving a sigh of relief I cranked the engine and reversed out of our parking spot. "Thanks, Boyd. I owe you one. Now let's go get some beer before heading back to these apartments they've stuck us in, in their impenetrable fortress here. I wanna get settled before calling Seth to check in. These boys will probably be ready for the next meeting in a couple of hours, and I need time to make sure my guts are still made of steel before round two comes up. I mean, dag-gum, Boyd. Did hell start serving snow cones to its inhabitants? Have you seen any pigs flying? Has the President solved the national deficit? Better yet, did they lift the house off the Wicked Witch of the West and she's really alive?"

Boyd chuckled. "Honey, your guts aren't made of steel. They're made of fucking titanium. You've got nothing to worry about, but I got to tell you, no snow cones, no flying pigs, the deficit still sucks, and the crazy woman with the flying monkeys and striped socks is still fictionally dead. Maybe you fell into a Twilight Zone episode instead."

I only shook my head at his obvious amusement. Too bad I didn't feel like my insides were all that solid at the moment. 'Cause Lord knew seeing Bobby Baker had rocked my little world more than I ever thought was possible. With my shitty luck, I'd finally hit rock bottom, and at least it couldn't go anywhere except up from here. Although, a little liquid fortification never hurt anyone. It would sure as hell help me get the nerve to go through the next couple of hours without murdering someone in a desperate rage.

Five hours later, I sat with Boyd, in his suite, and the nine men of EX Ops, going over the files of information piece by piece. I had to admit, I was a little impressed with their range of questions and keen insight as they looked at each reported sale of black market items in Texas; looking for any possible clues that Boyd and I might have missed. They'd already been talking things out for close to two hours and no one was any closer to a conclusion than Boyd and I had been for the past three months of our investigation. At least they were all laid back enough to be slowly drinking a beer instead of the uptight soldier boys I originally thought they'd be. On the other hand, the relaxed atmosphere also made it ten times harder to ignore Bobby's blatant staring from time to time. The shrill ring of my cell phone cut through the quiet and the attention I'd focused on the file in my hands.

Flipping it open, I answered with the usual, "Roberts speaking."

"Well, hello there, darlin'! How's the prettiest ATF agent in the state of Texas doing tonight?" a seductive Texan drawl crooned through my phone. All ten men in the room, including Boyd, looked over curiously before going back to the files in their hands.

A large, genuine smile spread across my face. "Why if it isn't my favorite Sheriff! I'm doing just fine, Charlie! How're things your way?"

"Well, my sweet Annabelle, things have been mighty boring around here. Deputy Walters wanted to see if you could come over here and show some handcuff techniques to our new Deputy. Walt reckons the boy needs a good lesson or two and it would sure liven' things up. I'd like to volunteer as your assistant in the presentation." Boyd barked a laugh from clear across the room.

I couldn't decide whether to laugh or blush in embarrassment. Rolling my eyes and rubbing a finger across my nose to hide my light blush behind my hand, I decided it was best to roll with the punches. "Well, Charlie, I've got some bad news for you then. I'm out of town with Boyd at the moment. I won't be back to Texas till tomorrow. You'll have to tell good ol' Walters to train the new Deputy with the handcuffs himself. You can be Walter's assistant. Besides, I might need mine to detain Boyd later if he gets on my damn nerves anymore tonight." Silent snickers and coughs echoed around the room while Charlie's booming laughter floated through the phone. "Is that all you needed, Charlie? I'm kind of in a meeting right now."

"Actually, Annabelle, it looks as if my new Deputy might have seen something for you." Charlie quickly went over what the young Deputy had seen. My heart picked up speed in my chest. After months of frustration, it looked like a possible lead.

"Hold on, Charlie, I wanna put you on speaker phone. I'm sitting here with Boyd and a team of guys that'll be helping us out on this case. Can you repeat all of that for them?"

"Anything for you, darlin'."

Pressing the speaker button on my phone, then turning the volume all the way up, I set the phone in the middle of the table and glanced around to make sure I had everyone's attention before saying, "Can you hear me, Charlie?"

"Sure can."

"Okay. Kindly repeat what you just told me."

"Well, the new Deputy was making rounds in his civilian vehicle to learn the routes for the job on his off time. He drove by that place on the edge of town, you know, the 'Big Bull Bar', because it's one of our business checks. Says there were a couple of guys holding an assault rifle by the open trunk of a car. It seemed to bug him 'til he couldn't get rid of the feeling they were up to no good, so he decided to come see me about it today. Sounds a little fishy, don't you think, Annabelle?"

Boyd leaned towards the phone. "Hey, Charlie, could your Deputy tell what kind of rifle it was?"

"Sorry, Boyd. The boy is fresh out of the academy and don't know his .308 from his .50 Cal, but I got to say it sounds funny to me."

Commander Jaxon shrugged. "We're talking about the state of Texas. Don't you guys collect guns and attend football games like it's a religion? Could be nothing but a couple of avid gun enthusiasts. Guess it wouldn't hurt to look into if it gave the Deputy the willies, though."

I happened to agree. "Thanks for telling us, Charlie. I appreciate the information and we'll check into it tomorrow. Can you email any other information your Deputy noticed? Like what the guys looked like or what car they were standing by? Anything like that might help us out, too."

"Not a problem, Annabelle, I'll have it to you by the end of the night. Tell me, darlin', how's Seth doing? Is he taking good care of you?"

Hastily snatching the phone up to turn the speaker function off, I walked out to the patio and shut the door behind me before finishing my conversation with Sheriff Charlie Jenkins. Charlie was a hell of a guy I had an on-again/off-again, friends with benefits, relationship with, but right about now, I felt like sticking my pointy-toe cowboy boot up his Wrangler-encased butt for broadcasting my business to a room full of guys I didn't know as well as one guy I knew all too well.

One guy I had absolutely no intentions of letting learn my business because boy-howdy, that would be a mess and a half to face. What I almost missed in my rapid retreat outside was the flicker of jealousy on Bobby Baker's face at my apparent evasion of the mention of another man's name. A reaction that was definitely not missed by the other nine men in the room.
Chapter

2

Bobby

Grabbing my duffle bag out of the back of the truck, I turned to follow behind my teammates, boarding the plane only to be stopped short by Jaxon's hand on my shoulder.

"Bobby, I need to know... are you going to be alright on this mission? You're not going to let personal issues get in the way, right?"

Staring back at Jaxon's composed face I did my best not to lose control of my temper and give in to the urge to punch him in the face. Jaxon had every right to question me about this. I thought I'd done a good job hiding my emotions, but after some curious glances from the guys, my guess was it had been a piss poor cover-up after all.

"I will not let my personal issues get in the way of completing this mission, Sir. However, I cannot promise you that I will not pursue my own agenda on my free time. Sound fair to you?"

Jaxon watched me like I was a ticking time bomb for a few minutes before responding, "Fair enough, Baker. Don't let any of this become a problem, understand me?"

"Yes Sir, understood."

"Good. Let's load up."

Upon entering the cabin of the private plane the CIA used to shuttle the EX Ops unit around the world, I found my team members in various stages of getting settled. The seats were grouped in fours so two people faced the other two. Looking up and around the cabin of the plane, I snorted when I caught Belle's position. She and her partner Boyd were seated in the back of the plane facing Declan and Riley. The only seat available was at the front of the plane, but at least it was facing her direction.

Her avoidance tactics towards me were ridiculous. First, her little show back at headquarters, where she'd verbally flogged me for calling her 'Belle' rather than her given name of 'Annabelle'. Now she was taking every opportunity to put as much distance between us as possible.

That was okay. I had every intention of making it difficult for her to pretend I wasn't there. Eventually, she would break down and talk to me. All I needed was half an hour to explain I was sorry. I'd looked everywhere for her. Gone as far as hiring five different private investigators in an effort to locate her over the years. She'd done one hell of a disappearing act. She hadn't just left her dad's tiny trailer. Nor had she just left our small town. Apparently, she'd left the state of Georgia completely. Not to mention she changed her fucking name. No wonder her trail had gone up like a puff of smoke for the P.I.'s. Why would she have gone through the hassle of changing her name, though? I didn't understand. Was she that desperate to shake me after what I'd done to her?

Belle had always been as wild as the wind, but I would have never thought she would have run as far and as fast as she had. That struck me as kind of funny. Why the hell had she left like that anyways? Sure, I'd been stupid enough to send the damn letter telling her that I needed time.

Perhaps Belle hadn't had much there in Sylvania. Her dad was a worthless drunk. Her mom dead in the ground. Most of the town thought she was trouble with her bad attitude and quick temper. Her best friend, Teagan, had taken her GED on her eighteenth birthday so she could get out of town and join the Marine Corps to escape her own abusive father, but did that mean Belle had to leave? My parents had worried about her like crazy. Not to mention, Mom never failed to tell me what a complete idiot I was for letting her get away. This was something I didn't need to be told. I was perfectly aware of it all on my own.

Belle's loud laughter cut through my thoughts; I lifted my head to see her smiling brightly at Declan. Go fucking figure. Smooth bastard was a chick magnet. Women in every shape and size would flock to him, practically begging for a second of his attention. It was disgusting. A hard knot of jealousy curled in my stomach, watching the love of my life laugh it up with another man when she wouldn't even look at me, burned like acid in my gut.

It didn't matter. Belle could be as stubborn as a mule all she wanted. It was not going to keep me from getting her back. I didn't give a shit who the hell this 'Seth' was and, if my girl thought she could push me away when I'd finally found her after all these years, she had another thing coming. Somehow, some way, I was going to seduce my girl back into my arms. Right where she belonged. All I had to do was get her to soften a little. Talk her into listening to me. Remind her how it felt when we held each other, kissed each other, that sparks flew like the fourth of July. It would still be like that between us even after all this time. Nothing would ever be as sweet, as explosive, to me as Belle was.

No matter what my wild girl said, I refused to call her Annabelle. She would always be my Belle. My wild, beautiful and perfect Belle.

Annabelle

Two and a half hours on a plane from Washington D.C. back to a small airfield right outside of San Antonio, Texas was spent laughing at Declan Sullivan's crazy ass stories. The man had charming down to a science while his brother Riley sat next to him quietly. The brothers might look alike, but personality wise, they were yin and yang. Riley seemed thoughtful and gave me occasional small smiles that gave me the overwhelming urge to get him a little drunk and see if it would make him open up and have some fun. Declan seemed like he could have fun sober in a room all by himself. He was the definition of the word fun. He was more than the party boy, though. It was a good thing I'd paid attention to all of those psychology classes in college.

Declan might be a laugh a minute, but it was because he was trying to get me to relax and open up. One minute he would be telling Boyd and me a funny story about growing up with his brother and Irish grandparents, the next he would be slipping in a question about my own childhood. What a sneaky, little, interrogation specialist. I may not have official confirmation from Commander Wall what each of the men's specialties were, but I'd bet my last chocolate chip cookie Declan Sullivan was the go-to guy on this team for getting information out of somebody; and I never risked my cookies because they were the most important food group in my diet.

Shifting my eyes to his brother, Riley, I scrutinized the man from head to toe. Had he always been this quiet? Letting his younger brother be the life of the party? Or had something happened in his life that caused him to be subdued? I'd never been the quiet type, hence why my small hometown had labeled me trouble of the worst variety. I had a temper a mile wide, a hard fist to back it up, and a mouth that was never afraid to speak my mind. Why not speak my mind? What or who in that small town could hurt me more than my father did? The only thing I'd ever truly feared was giving my heart away and ending up with a jackass like my mother had. It was why pushing everybody, except Teagan, away had always been easier than letting down those emotional walls and allowing people in. Besides my best friend, there had been one exception. Bobby. He had convinced me that my heart would be safe with him. What a joke that had been and look how it had turned out. Badly. No, the word badly didn't do that heap of mess enough justice. A more accurate description would be emotional homicide. I'd handed him my heart on a silver platter and, instead of keeping it safe like he'd promised to, he'd chopped my vulnerable heart into a million, tiny pieces before throwing it in the trash. See what happened when you gave your faith to something as here-today-gone-tomorrow as love? Lesson learned.

That kind of pain was a hard thing to bounce back from. Unfortunately, given what my position was at the time, which was homeless, I didn't have much choice except to get over it. You couldn't find a warm place to sleep or put food in your belly if you allowed yourself to curl up into a ball and cry your eyes out. There had been plenty of tears, but they were shed with my chin up, my shoulders back, and me facing the world head-on. Some might say I still had trust issues to this day, but I'd learned to open up a little. I had friends now. Occasional lovers even. Although, no man had taken Bobby's place and no man ever would.

I loved three people in this world. Teagan, and she'd earned that love with loyalty, understanding, and bruises meant for me; Seth, because he was my first example of true, unconditional love and, therefore, meant everything to me. He was also a giant walking, talking secret I was sure was about to come back and bite me in the ass. Then there was Bobby, whom I loved and would always love, but would never trust again.

So, since there was no more Bobby in my life, I'd spent the last few years with infrequent dates to scratch my itch, making sure messy things like emotions were never involved. Life was busy. I'd gone to school, gotten my degree in Criminal Justice, and worked hard in my spare time to pay the bills all so I could build a career that would ensure I'd never be without money again. Never again would someone describe me as trailer trash. Not to mention I had Seth to keep me busy. There was no room for another man in my life. Seth was all I truly needed.

Pushing thoughts away as the plane touched down, I put myself back into agent mode. There was an investigation to crack, firearms to find then confiscate, and dirt wads to arrest and put behind bars. When the plane came to a stop, I looked out the window to see Charlie in his beige uniform, leaning against his SUV, arms crossed over his chest, and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. A plain black van with 'Sheriff' emblazed down the side of it was parked behind it with a mischievous looking Deputy Walters standing in front of it.

Charlie and Walters were both tall, incredibly good looking, imposing men that many women fell into lust at first sight with. Thankfully, I had the pleasure of calling them friends.

After obtaining my job with the ATF and moving outside of San Antonio, I'd run into Charlie at the local stop-n-shop next to a gas station I often filled up at. It was close to ten at night, I was in the shop grabbing a gallon of overpriced milk on my way home and, while I stood in the back by the freezer doors, a man in a ski mask burst in. His pistol was pointed at the woman behind the counter who was visibly pregnant and obviously scared shitless. Whoever the moron in the mask was couldn't have been all that bright, though. He didn't turn his head and look around to see if they were alone. He didn't keep his back towards a wall so he could monitor the store and its entrance for activity, either. All he did was wave that shiny, black pistol around in the poor woman's face, demanding the money in the cash register and that just downright pissed me off.

Here this woman was, working a late night, more than likely simply trying to pay her bills and save up some desperately needed money before her baby came, and this idiot was in here scaring the bejesus out of her. I was tired myself, after a long day of work, short on patience, and in a hurry to get home to Seth. Instead of doing the relatively smart thing, which would have been to whip out my cell phone and call the local authorities since I was alone, I chose to sneak down the aisle until I stood right behind the masked robber. He still had not detected my presence and the clerk behind the counter was smart enough not to make any sudden movements or noises to announce my arrival, which allowed me to put my law enforcement training to use. I slammed my knee into the outside of the robber's thigh, right above the knee, where there was a nerve point to cause him pain. Simultaneously, I grabbed his gun hand, which was in his right hand, with my own right hand while placing my left arm on the upper portion of his back, forcing his body to bend and turn to where I wanted it. Using the momentum to twist his right arm behind him to an unmovable angle, I twisted his wrist up to a debilitating point that caused him to cry out in pain and drop the gun. As I pushed the robber to the floor, first to his knees, then to his belly, and handcuffed him, the clerk was already on the phone with 911 dispatch. Charlie and Deputy Walters arrived moments later while I stood there with my foot in the middle of the whining robber's back, my gun aimed at him.

At first, Charlie and Walters felt entitled to give me a rash of shit for taking on an armed suspect all by my little ol' self. I was a woman, he was a man twice my size. What in the world had I been thinking? About a minute into their lecture, I got bored, lost my patience, flashed them my ATF badge, told them they could shove their lecture where the sun didn't shine, grabbed my gallon of milk, and walked out of the shop. I made it as far as my truck before Charlie chased me down to apologize. That night led to a friendship between me and Charlie. Eventually, it led to a drunken night between the sheets, which then led to a particularly awkward moment when Charlie caught me sneaking out of those sheets in the middle of the night. Our friendship had been strained for a while, but eventually, Charlie accepted I didn't have it in me to give more than a physical release. He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he was still here.

My first thoughts at seeing Charlie standing there, waiting for me, were happy ones. The past 24 hours had cracked open a vault of emotions I'd never thought to experience again, so the sight of him standing there as the plane came to a stop was like a fresh breath of air.

The next thought was pure unadulterated panic. He could blab explosive personal information out in front of a particular person who needed to be left in the dark as much as possible. Grabbing my bag, I made a beeline for the door to be the first one out, then practically ran down the stairs to throw myself into Charlie's waiting arms. His bear hug spun me in a circle before setting me on my feet.

Pulling his head down, I placed my mouth next to his ear and whispered, "Charlie, I need a favor. I need you to not mention Seth and tell Walters to do the same. Can you do that for me, please?"

Pulling back I saw the confusion on his face, but shook my head when he started to ask why. Glancing behind, to the men disembarking from the plane, he looked back down to me, still confused, yet he ultimately only shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about it, darlin'. It's not a problem." Giving him a grateful smile, I let go of him to turn around and face Boyd and the EX Ops team. Deputy Walters sidled up next to me and threw an arm over my shoulders to squeeze.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to my good friends, Sheriff Jenkins and Deputy Walters. Deputy Walters here is kind enough to drive you to the hotel I've reserved for you. By the time you get there you should have two rental SUV's waiting with the keys at the front desk. Boyd and I have some errands to run, but we'll meet you back at the hotel in a few hours to prep for tonight. We'll be doing undercover surveillance at the Big Bull Bar to see if we can find any further activity. Commander Wall, you have our numbers if you need to reach us. If you need anything at all give us a ring." Charlie leaned behind my back to whisper briefly in Deputy Walter's ear while I was telling everyone to pile in the vehicles.

Boyd piled in with me into Charlie's SUV while the EX Ops team piled into the back of Deputy Walter's black van. The two vehicles took off in different directions, which made me feel more than just a tad relieved to be putting a little distance between myself and the man that caused too many memories to creep up after I thought they'd been long since buried.

There had been a number of times I'd seen Bobby out of the corner of my eye, staring at me from across the plane. Desire, mixed with determination, written plain as day on his face for the world to see. The shadows of regret that were visible in those beautiful eyes of his were what had gotten to me the most. Did he actually regret leaving me? The thought made my heart skip a beat, but my brain quickly reminded me it didn't matter. Life had moved on in big ways. There was no safe place in it for Bobby Baker.

Bobby

Close to nine o'clock that night I sat with the other men in Jaxon's hotel suite, waiting for Belle and her partner to show up. Everyone was dressed in their civilian clothes as if they were headed out to have a good time, instead of getting ready to do reconnaissance work at a busy bar. Though, every man in the room was armed in one way or another; guns or knives carefully concealed in their boots or around their waist and underneath their shirts. We all sat calmly, waiting, like the steady soldiers we were, until a few minutes later a firm knock sounded on the door. Jaxon crossed the floor from where he'd been sitting in a chair, bouncing his leg, and peeped through the hole before he opened the door to admit first Boyd, then Belle, with Sheriff Jenkins right behind her.

I had to tell my lungs to keep breathing as the sight of Belle reached me. My eyes were probably glazed with desire because the way she looked right now felt like a hit of a wonder drug on a detoxing body. Gone was the professional demeanor of her ATF attire and in its place stood someone reminiscent of the wild girl I'd fallen in love with all those years ago. Her jeans—that were so low rise they barely covered her private areas—were settled perfectly over her black cowboy boots and were paired with a mid-sleeve, fitted, western shirt with the buttons halfway undone to show the black, lace tank top underneath. Her hair was long and loose, cascading down her back in gentle curls, topped by a sexy, black cowgirl hat on her head.

Flashing a dazzling smile she addressed the room. "Hey y'all! Who's ready to have some fun tonight?"

Shell shocked men sat in silence staring back at her. It took everything I had not to run up and tackle her so my unit would stop ogling what I obviously still considered mine. Charlie let loose an amused chuckle. "Darlin,' I do believe you've made an impression."

With a roll of her eyes and a soft snort, she crossed her arms over her ample chest. "Anyways! Moving on now. I've talked Charlie here into accompanying us tonight with his Deputy since he's the one who spotted the suspicious activity. They'll be on the lookout for the two men to help us along. I thought we could break up into four groups so we can all arrive at separate intervals to avoid suspicion. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes apart? We all arrived in our own vehicles, but Boyd will ride in one of your SUV's if you have go bags already in them. I take it you guys are going to be wearing some sort of communication devices tonight?"

Jaxon nodded. "We're all equipped with comm. links that can be activated by pushing a button on the actual device in their ear or by a button on their watch. Either way, everyone in the unit will be able to hear what's being said when one of the comm. links are activated. It might be a good idea to use two of those four teams and position them outside the bar. With groups in the front and back, we can be on the lookout around the perimeter."

Belle angled her body to face Jaxon. "Perhaps then, Commander Wall, it might be best if we split Boyd, Charlie, Deputy Miles and myself up with your men so we have a link to the rest of the team tonight through you all."

"That works." Jaxon faces us to start rattling off teams. "Logan and Wyatt team up with Agent Boyd. You'll go by 'Group Four' and position yourselves outside the front. Chase and Arturo team up with Deputy Miles to make 'Group Three'. Situate yourselves outside the back. Declan and Riley can team up with Agent Roberts for 'Group Two'. Bobby, Lucas and myself will team up with Sheriff Jenkins to form 'Group One'."

Jaxon started handing out a printout of information to Belle, Boyd and Jenkins. "We were able to obtain a little information on the bar. The picture shows the man who owns it. His name is Travis Henderson. Mr. Henderson seems to have a clean rap sheet and little else is known about the bar or its employees. Anyone got any questions?" Silence enveloped the room. "Then if everyone is ready, let's roll out."

Belle headed out of the room first to disappear in the parking lot while the guys proceeded to file out a few minutes later. Being at the back of the group I missed what made the guys catcall and laugh until I came into full view of Belle leaned up against a black jacked up Ford F350 decked out with a ram air hood, brush guard, monster-sized tires and a banner on the top of the windshield that read 'G.R.I.T.S.'.

Lucas's slightly New York accented voice sounded confused as he asked, "G.R.I.T.S.? Isn't that like a food or something?"

Logan clapped him on the shoulder as barks of laughter echoed in the parking lot. "Naw, buddy. Stands for 'Girls Raised In The South'. You could say Agent Roberts is showing off her southern pride a bit, that's all. It's a damn good thing to be proud of, too."

Belle climbed up into the cab of the truck. Still hanging out of the door a bit she yelled, "Come on Sullivan brothers. We're gonna have some fun before we head to the bar!"

Declan and Riley Sullivan looked wary. "What kind of fun exactly?"

"Muddin' and Jason Aldean. Let's go, baby!" The heavy rumble of her engine came to life as 'She's Country' blasted out of its open windows.

The Sullivan brothers looked at each other nervously. Riley spoke in a low voice to Declan, "You think she's alright upstairs or should I be worried?" Declan clapped his brother on the back before hopping up into the passenger side of the truck.

I was insanely jealous as the truck tore out of the parking lot to head down the highway while the rest of us piled into our respective vehicles to leave. It almost felt as if she was trying to rub my nose in one of our best memories. When you lived in a small southern town, out in the middle of nowhere, muddin' with your buddies, your girl, and pilfered beer where you could cut loose and be free was one of the few options for entertainment. There went my buddies. There went my girl. Here I still stood, looking like a jackass.

Jaxon watched the retreating vehicle with a mix of amusement and trepidation. Turning to Sheriff Jenkins he asked, "Should I be worried about any of that?" His finger pointing in the direction of where Belle's truck had already disappeared.

The Sheriff's easy smile didn't seem to convince Jaxon. "Not at all, Commander Wall. Annabelle is harmless. Swear."

I snorted. "Tell that to the guy she knocked unconscious her senior year. He was twice her size."

Sheriff Jenkins's eyebrows shot to his hairline as he turned to face me in the back seat. "You knew Annabelle in high school?"

My mouth kicked up in a half smile. "Yeah, you could say that. We grew up in the same small town. Belle and I were as close as you could get until I left for the Army just after graduation."

The Sheriff's eyebrows pulled down into an intense expression as something flashed over his face before he could cover it up. He quickly turned around to start the car. "I'm going to turn on the radio. Hope you don't mind."

The radio kicked on and a local country station came on. All conversation in the car stopped. The last look the Sheriff had made bothered me. There was something there that made my instincts flare up. The Sheriff knew something. What in the hell could it possibly be?
Chapter

3

Bobby

Just before ten o'clock, I stepped into the Big Bull Bar. We were the second team to arrive, ten minutes behind Group Four who was stationed on the outside in the back. Country music blasted through the building, and flirtatious women were writhing around on the dance floor luring drunken men off their stools to try and dance with them. The place was rowdy, yet entertaining, making it pretty clear it was a hot spot in the area to be frequented for good-time seeking locals. The walls were painted a sinful dark red on the top half with distressed black wood wainscoting on the bottom. Scuffed but sturdy dark hardwood floors ran throughout the wide open space. The walls were decorated with bull horns and giant framed pieces of art depicting half-naked cowboys and saloon girls.

Sheriff Jenkins motioned to a table in the back that would give us a perfect view of the bar while we waited the night out. Walking past the dance floor, I saw a mechanical bull on the other side, to the left. On the right side was a long bar against the wall that held a good sized group of individuals. Where we seated ourselves in the back consisted of some tables half-filled with the locals, socializing, drinks in hand. The manager, Travis Henderson, was behind the bar helping the bartender fill orders and I failed to see anyone matching Deputy Miles's descriptions of the men he'd observed in the parking lot the other night.

Fifteen minutes later, Arturo reported through the hidden comm. links attached to our ears that he was in position with Deputy Miles and Chase. Another twenty minutes slid by with no interesting activity. Well, nothing interesting unless you counted the young, twenty-something, long-legged blonde that sidled up to Commander Jaxon with the kind of smile that was pure invitation to a good time.

Last week that was the kind of thing I would have envied. A night of meaningless sex to fill the void that felt unfillable. I might have even tried to steal her away from Jaxon for the fun of it. Now, all I could see was she was nowhere near as blessed on top as Belle. Neither did she exude the kind of confidence that came with the innate kind of sexiness Belle gave off without trying at all. I should have been amazed I was relatively pussy-whipped so fast, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to care. In place of fear or dread over impending shackles of commitment, were flashbacks of Belle before I left for the Army.

Half-naked on the back seat of my car with the windows fogged up. Lying on a blanket on the bank of the creek with love and devotion shining in her green eyes. In the hayloft of my father's barn where we explored with our hands and mouths each other's bodies. God what a fool I'd been to try and walk away from her. Right behind those memories were the ideas of how to get her back. If she gave me too much grief about talking about what had happened between us, I could get some rope, tie her up and make her listen. Actually, the idea held a lot of appeal for me.

With a half-empty beer in my hand, I watched as Belle strutted through the front door with her arm wrapped around Declan's waist. He held her tucked into his side with an arm slung over her shoulders. Every muscle in my body tensed while I fought the desire to go down there and kick Declan's ass. Watching my buddy make my girl laugh on the plane ride was one thing. Watching my buddy hold my girl so close to his body they could have been super glued together was another. The logical half of my brain told me that I was being completely irrational. Declan would never go there because he knew exactly what Belle meant to me: everything. The other half of my brain that dealt with emotions and thought logic was a little bitch called me a moron for sitting back and watching the smooth talking Sullivan touch what was definitely mine. Stupid fucking emotions. They stunk worse than flying monkey shit.

The Sullivan brothers stepped up to the bar with Belle stuck in the middle of them, taking stools as they played the role of rambunctious partiers. The redhead on the other side of Declan tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. In less than no time, both brothers were flirting with women while Belle was having an animated conversation with the bartender. Now, with all four teams in position, the building would be adequately covered if shit hit the fan and we had to move on something.

The comm. link buzzed in my ear as Arturo spoke in hushed tones. "Deputy Miles says one of the suspects has walked past us into the back of the building. Be on the lookout for a white male, approximately five-foot-nine, a hundred and eighty pounds. Black hair, blue shirt and blue jeans."

Doing a visual sweep, I watched as the suspect came through the door that more than likely led to a back office. The bar's owner, Travis Henderson, caught sight of the man, excused himself from his conversation with Belle and walked over to where the suspect waited at the end of the bar. It took less than five minutes until it appeared they were having what looked like a heated conversation before the target waved his hands around in frustration, and then stomped off through the door leading into the back.

Henderson returned to his position behind the bar with a huge smile while handing beers, or whatever was ordered, out to the customers. As interesting as the scene was, it didn't distract me from noticing once again Sheriff Jenkins stole a thoughtful glance in my direction with a frown. He'd been doing that periodically since we'd arrived. Abruptly he stood, shoving his chair back roughly in the process, and stalked to where Belle was.

Tapping her on the shoulder, the Sheriff made a big production of asking her for a dance on the floor. The grip on the beer in my hand tightened as I did my best to tamp down the urge to throw it. Jaxon leaned over the table towards me.

"What do you think that's all about?"

I shrugged my shoulders, doing my best to act nonchalant about it all. "I don't know. Let's watch to see what happens."

Belle and the Sheriff walked out to the middle of the dance floor before they started to sway to the music. Sheriff Jenkins held her closely with his hands placed intimately on her waist. It was a familiar kind of touch which told me he'd held her like that before. Perhaps with fewer clothes on and while in a bed instead of on a dance floor. I clenched my jaw, teeth grinding down in agitation. Belle put her hands on his chest as they danced. It became obvious pretty quickly they were discussing something Belle didn't want to talk about. Her brow furrowed while her eyes lit in anger. The conversation seemed to escalate rapidly as Belle started poking her finger into the Sheriff's chest to emphasize whatever point she was trying to get across.

About the time I was sorely tempted to step in and break them up, something unexpected happened. A body landed in my lap. Throwing a hand out to steady the thrashing arms I heard Jaxon bark a laugh. Looking down I saw the top of a head of brunette hair so full of hair spray it could almost double as a helmet in a war zone. Two small hands were thrown over my thighs, clasping desperately to them for some semblance of balance. Bare, tan legs exposed by a denim mini skirt were tangled in front of her with one glittering red high heel still on her left foot whereas the right foot was shoeless. I glanced around the floor until I saw the missing shoe lying on its side a few feet over.

Glancing back down, the woman's head was tipped backwards until a pair of young, glassy brown eyes were looking at me. Her chest rose and fell with her stilted giggling, almost causing the straining buttons on her extremely tight shirt to pop open. She was adorable in an inebriated sort of way, but she needed to get her head out of my lap before the off chance of Belle looking up here and seeing this shit happened. The side of my mouth hitched into a smile. "You okay?"

Shaking her head, "No. Wait. I mean, yes. Yes. I'm fine. I think. Apparently, long island ice tea and four inch heels don't go too well together. Did you know that?" I shook my head and she continued talking, "Sorry I landed on you. Anything I can do to make it up to you while I'm down here?" Full red lips smiled back at me seductively.

Tipping my head back to look at the ceiling in disbelief, I chuckled, then slipped my hands underneath her shoulders to help her stand. "I appreciate the offer, but you could say I'm spoken for. Promise me you'll be more careful walking around in those wicked high heels from now on. I'd hate for them get the best of you and hurt those pretty legs."

The brunette shrugged before grabbing the offending shoe to slip it back on her foot. "Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

Walking away she seemed a fuck of a lot steadier than she had a few minutes ago when lying on top of me. Cocking an eyebrow at the development I looked over to see Jaxon's shoulders shaking in laughter. "Damn, Baker, you've got the ladies performing to get your attention. What's next? Someone going to walk up to you juggling beers to impress you?"

A slow grin spread across my face. "Now, if she's juggling beers at least that would come in handy. We might get a few free drinks out of it. Not to mention, if she's desperate enough she might be willing to settle for you instead."

Jaxon flipped me the bird.

Sliding my eyes back to Belle, who was still on the floor with the Sheriff, it seemed their conversation had turned for the better. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact her eyes were shooting daggers in my direction. Apparently, she'd caught my interaction with the brunette. A smart man would have been scared about the possibility of her anger over it. I was not a smart man. That killing look aimed in my direction gave me hope. If I could piss her off that bad it meant she still cared for me, and if she still cared, then I could talk her around to my way of thinking. This brought a smile to my face. A smile that was not appreciated by Belle. The Sheriff dropped his mouth down to her ear to whisper in it and they held their heads together, closely talking for a few minutes before separating. Belle kissed the man on the cheek, and then went back to her stool next to Declan. The Sheriff ambled back to our table.

Before I could think better of it, I blurted, "What the hell was that about, Jenkins?"

Sheriff Jenkins gave me a blank look. He seemed to be considering what he should say. "Just needed to have a quick chat with Annabelle. Glad I did, though. We need to keep eyes on her. She's got that look in her eye, the kind she gets right before she does something crazy. Or stupid. Don't know what she's up to yet, so don't bother asking."

Jaxon cocked an eyebrow at the Sheriff's diversion tactic before looking back to me. Frustrated, I ran my hand over the back of my neck. Keeping my mind on the mission was not as easy as I thought it was going to be. First, it was because of Belle's obvious rage and avoidance towards me. Now, it felt like I was having my face rubbed in Sheriff Jenkins' obvious romantic feelings for Belle, which was salt on the fucking, bleeding wound, in a manner of speaking. Between the two issues, the short fuse on my patience was quickly burning down and it felt like it would be only a matter of time before I exploded and did something drastic. Something stupid.

Belle's vibrant laughter cut through my musings on the Sheriff. Looking back over to where she sat sandwiched in between the Sullivan brothers, I watched as she worked Henderson and the people surrounding them with her charm. Belle suddenly waved her hands around in the air while enthusiastically debating something with Henderson. Her shirt rode up her back enough to catch a glimpse of what looked to be a tattoo there, making me groan as I had the sudden fierce desire to strip her naked and expose the ink on her body to my eyes.

A man could only take so much before he lost all rational thought, dammit. It especially didn't help that, at this moment, she was surrounded by men who were trying to ply her with alcohol. Or knowing my luck, proposing marriage to her. I locked down on the growl vibrating in my throat before anyone heard it.

Looking up to Jaxon's amused face, he laughed at my obvious torture. "That's one hell of a girl there, Bobby. Want to tell me why you let her get away?"

Shaking my head, I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. Looking back up, I found that not only did I have Jaxon's full attention, but I also had the Sheriff's attention. A calculating look on his face. "You're telling me you had Annabelle's affections? You actually had that woman and you let her go?" His attitude seemed more serious than curious.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I answered, "Yeah. Belle and I were together for two years. Letting her go was the biggest mistake of my life. I knew it less than a month after I did it. The problem was, by the time I figured it out, she was long gone. Now she seems to be so mad at me that fifteen years later she won't even talk to me. I know I hurt her. Yeah, I'm an ass for doing it, but for the life of me, I can't understand why she is as mad as she is after all these years."

Sheriff Jenkins watched me thoughtfully. After what felt like an eternity of analyzing me like I was some bug under a microscope he nodded his head. "Don't give up then, Baker. I'll tell you I've known Annabelle for the last ten years. She's had a hell of a tough life in that time. That's probably got a lot to do with her response to you now. Don't bother asking me for details because I won't give it to you. Annabelle's a good friend of mine. I care a lot for her. Hell, I would have taken her off of the market years ago if she would have let me. Trust me when I say, I'm not tellin' you a damn thing except this, if you still care for her at all like I think you do, it'd be worth your while to make a spot for yourself in her life. I think she needs it as much as you seem to want it. I think y'all got an awful lot to talk about." Turning in his chair so he faced away from me, displaying his tense shoulders and stiff you-can-fuck-off body posture, the man was silently indicating to me the conversation was over. I got his message loud and clear. Didn't mean I understood it, or whatever it was he was trying to convey to me. What a strange conversation that had been.

The next thirty minutes were a proverbial comedy about a bunch of drunken rednecks mixed with scantily clad women drinking, shouting, dancing, and a few brave souls trying their hand at the mechanical bull. During the time, I watched Belle pretend to throw back two more shots while acting like she was tipsy. Her movements appeared sluggish, but I knew it was all an act since her, Declan and Riley had an elaborate game of 'switch out the glasses' going. Instead of Belle actually drinking her shots, either Declan or Riley would change them out with an empty shot glass from one of the patrons next to them, giving the impression Belle was drinking heavily.

Dozens of people partied hard with the trio and, eventually, Belle staggered sloppily backwards for a few seconds. Turning, she continued a drunken swagger, pushing through the thick mass of bodies towards the back of the bar, but instead of continuing her path, she veered quickly to the right, stumbling through the door at the end, where the suspect had entered not so long ago. Henderson caught sight of where Belle had disappeared to and yelled for her to stop. Ignoring him, she pushed her way through the door. Henderson slid the beer he had in his hand to Declan, and then quickly left the area behind the bar to follow Belle into the back.

Travis Henderson had unknowingly allowed the back of his bar to be infiltrated by a highly trained ATF agent. One who would love to do nothing more than hang him high and dry if he was, in fact, cooperating in this ring of black market firearms sales. My body went incredibly taut with tension at the thought of Belle out of sight without any back up.

Precious seconds ticked by that I spent literally on the edge of my seat. Ready to jump up with the need to do something. Anything. Whatever it took to make sure my girl came back out of the room safe and sound. A few more minutes ticked by and it felt like an invisible hand had reached inside my chest and had a stranglehold on my heart.

Jesus, I'd never felt anxiety like this on any mission I'd ever gone on. Put me in a room full of crazy terrorists and it would feel like another day at the office, but this, well, this was almost more than I could take. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming desire to put Belle in a padded room somewhere safe to make sure she never got a boo-boo; much less, let her walk into a dangerous situation like she was in now.

When I was ready to storm the castle, so to speak, the door to the back opened. Henderson firmly held one of Belle's arms in his grip while escorting her back towards the Sullivan brothers. Declan looked over to the pair with a frown on his face seconds before I noticed his hand briefly touch his watch and then his voice crackled over the comm. link.

"Hey there, guy. What are you doing man handling my sister like that?"

Henderson gently pushed Belle into Declan's direction. "No harm, man. Your sister wandered into the office looking for the bathroom. If she still needs to use it, the ladies room is located at the back of the building and to the left."

Belle patted Declan on the shoulder. "Calm down, big brother. The bartender here was only showing a lady around is all. Hey, you still got a pack of cigarettes on you? I need one bad."

Sending one last glare to Henderson, Declan wrapped an arm around Belle's shoulders and headed towards the front door. Riley grabbed his bottle of beer before following them out. A few minutes of silence passed while the group presumably put a safe distance between themselves and any ears that might be listening. Finally, I heard Belle's sweet, southern voice as she spoke lowly to Declan.

"I spotted what looked like a couple of crates in a large, empty storage room partially covered with tarps. No way to see what was in the crates, but they looked about the size that could accommodate rifles. Suspect was sitting quietly in the manager's office with the door open so he had a view of the hall and the storage room. Closing time is in two hours. I think we should wait till the place is empty, break in and take a look at what they might be hiding."

Declan's low voice followed Belle's report. "What do you think, Commander?"

Jaxon's eyes swept the bar again before he answered, "Sounds like a solid plan. Sullivans, tell Belle you all will stay here while my group will take our SUV to a remote area nearby in the woods to change and load up. We'll leave you a change of clothes and some toys along with the GPS coordinates of their location when we head back. The two remaining groups will remain in position outside. Wall out."

A short chorus of, "Affirmatives," sounded through the comm. link to let the Commander know all groups were aware of their current orders.

As the Sullivan brothers walked back into the bar with a supposedly inebriated Belle in tow, a lively country song started blasting over the speakers. As the fiddle accompanied the guitar, Belle shimmied her way onto the middle of the dance floor. Swaying her hips seductively to the music. Instantly, she gained the attention of every male in the room, with most of the females watching, too; envy, anger or lust shining in their eyes.

Regardless of all the other bystanders around me, in that moment, I flashed back fifteen years to Belle dancing for me like that in my bedroom while I lay back on the bed watching her. How I would have her strip all of her clothes off for me slowly while she swung her hips in sinful movements to tease me. How she would look when she was down to nothing except pretty, little lace panties. Maybe her boots and her cowboy hat, too. My dick felt like a solid steel pipe pressing into my zipper.

It took Jaxon slapping me on the back of my head to get me moving towards the exit again before the song and, therefore, the distraction was over. I silently vowed to myself as we left that Belle would be dancing for me again soon. All I had to do was come up with a plan to tame the wild woman who still managed to make my dick go hard in less than eight seconds like some sexual rodeo and my heart squeeze in my chest so hard I thought I might be having a heart attack.
Chapter

4

Annabelle

I faked a drunken swagger as the Sullivan brothers pretended to half-drag me out to the parking lot. When we were clear of the front door, with nothing except the sounds of bull frogs and crickets surrounding us, Declan leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"You put on one hell of a show there, honey. Group One has already made it to a secure location to change and arm up. We'll wait here until they get back in about fifteen minutes."

I pulled the gate down on my truck bed. The three of us could sit there like we were shootin' the shit and wasting time. In other words, a typical, laid back, southern night.

"Give us a story to pass the time, Annabelle. Tell us something horribly embarrassing about Bobby." Declan grinned as he leaned back on his elbows against the bottom of the truck bed.

Raising my eyebrow in amusement, I watched the other man's lazy demeanor. "I don't know about that, Declan. Perhaps it would be best if I didn't talk about Bobby with y'all. I'm a bit biased on the subject."

The guys chuckled and then Declan quickly grew serious. "Do you mind if I'm brutally honest with you, Annabelle?"

I let loose an unfeminine snort. "You might as well. I've got this funny feeling you're the type that would tell me whether I want to hear it or not."

"I promise I'm not trying to pry into your business, I want you to know I've known Bobby for the last three and a half years he's been on this team. In that time, we've grown close. I'd do anything for him; including step into something that is clearly not my business by telling you things I should leave for him to say, but since you won't give him the time of day, let me lay it out for you. Bobby's my boy. Over the years, we've had a few drunken nights where he told me all about the mistakes he made over the course of his life. He always said the biggest mistake he ever made was leaving you. Did you know a couple of weeks after he broke it off with you, he had his parents searching the entire county for you since he couldn't find you by phone? Apparently, you up and disappeared out of that small town you guys grew up in."

Shock rolled through my body. Bobby had looked for me? Wow.

I sure as hell hadn't seen that one coming.

How different would my life have been if I hadn't left town the day after getting Bobby's letter? A letter that was, by the way, still in my possession. It was something I'd used over the years to help me mourn the heart I'd left buried back in Georgia. Many things had happened in the last fifteen years. As much as I would love to think Bobby genuinely wanted to clear the air between us, as he'd hinted over the past two days, I didn't think it was possible. If Bobby ever knew what I'd done, what I'd hidden from him, he'd look at me with the kind of burning hate you bestowed on the people you despised with every fiber of your being. I don't think I could survive knowing the only man I'd ever loved felt that way about me.

Turning back to look at Declan, I considered my next words carefully.

"The comm. link you got in your ear, what's the range on that sucker?"

With a knowing smile, Declan answered, "Oh, about two miles. So we're safe for..." he looked down at his watch, "I'd say about another four or five minutes before they're in range again."

"Good. While they're out of earshot, I'd like to say thank you for telling me that. No, I didn't know Bobby ever looked for me after his 'I-don't-think-we-should-see-each-other-anymore' letter. That being said, I don't think anything can change between the two of us. My life changed forever after that letter. Things have happened that have made it impossible for Bobby and I to go back to the way things were. Yes, part of me will always be hurt or angry over what happened in the end between the two of us, but I also hope he has a good life. I'm not that much of a bitch to want it otherwise. I wish it could have ended differently, but it's time for Bobby to move on."

Declan hung his head a little and sighed. "I think you still care for him, Annabelle. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be this pissed off at him. If I'm right, and you do, then I don't see why the two of you can't work through whatever happened in the past. I know for a fact Bobby would move heaven and earth to have a second chance with you." As I was about to say something, he held his hand up to hold me off. "But I understand if you feel like you can't make the leap. I'd like to ask a favor of you, then. Talk to him once. Let him say he's sorry. That way, maybe he can finally move on with his life instead of always looking back to the past he had with you."

I sat there, watching the sincerity in Declan's face as he pleaded Bobby's case. The man would have made a hell of a lawyer. Thousands of thoughts poured through my stunned brain. Did Bobby honestly think he was still in love with me? Was he genuinely sorry for doing the one thing he'd always promised never to do, leave me behind? Could I ever trust him after what had happened before? My heart couldn't handle that kind of rejection again.

Riley shifted his butt on my other side, inadvertently reminding me he'd been sitting there the whole time. Looking over to him I asked, "You're too quiet, Riley Sullivan. What's your two cents about all of this?"

Riley shrugged his shoulders, then jerked his head in Declan's direction. "I agree with him."

I laughed. "You don't talk much do you?"

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he replied, "Nope."

Shaking my head in amusement, I took a moment to look at Declan's watch. "What have we got, Declan, two or three minutes until they're in range again?"

"Sounds about right, beautiful."

"Okay. I'll think about talking to Bobby, but in the meantime, why don't I tell you about the party at Jason Bueller's house." With a wistful smile I added, "You're not gonna believe this shit..."

Bobby

The comm. link crackled in my ear when we came back into range of the bar. In a few minutes we would be parked and hidden away in various positions in the woods behind the bar. As I checked my pockets on the black combat pants I was wearing again, making sure everything was in its place, I heard the roaring cackle of laughter pour through the link. It damn near blew my ear drum out.

I barked in annoyance, "What the fuck, Declan! Are you trying to make us go deaf?"

Declan continued to laugh. Hell, he was laughing so hard he was gasping for air, choking several times in the process. He was such a dumbass. When he finally had some self-control, he said something that stopped me dead in my tracks as I silently moved through the woods behind the Big Bull Bar.

"Tell me, Bobby, how much liquor do you have to drink to get chased by a truck through a cornfield? Or have a fist fight with a tree before you decide it would be a brilliant idea to try and piss on an electric fence that nearly zaps your dick off? But wait, that's not the best part. No, that would be where you passed out underneath a trailer in nothing except your boxers and you cuddled up with a beach ball while your ridiculously hot and totally willing girlfriend was waiting for you inside the trailer! We've been promised photographic evidence as proof to this incredible account of your male, teenage idiocy. I think we should submit the pictures to National Geographic's ongoing study about the effects of alcohol on impressionable young males with low IQs."

The line choked up with several amused men's laughter.

"SON OF A BITCH! Where's the loyalty? You tell Belle to stop recapping our ridiculous adolescent adventures before I break out a few about her I'm sure she'll wish never saw the light of day again."

Declan relayed the message to Belle and then her soft southern drawl came over the line. "Bobby, you telling stories about me would be about as useful as a trap door on a canoe since I don't have to work with these guys every day and you do."

Jaxon cleared his throat to hide his amusement. "Playtime is over, kids. Let's get back to work. Sullivan team, we're in place. Mingle with the natives until it's almost closing time. Then head to our truck to pick up your change of clothes and weapons. Once you're done, meet up with us behind the bar in the woods."

Declan's, "Roger that," was immediate. Now it was time to hurry up and wait.

~~~

Three o'clock in the morning finally rolled around before the target left with Henderson. The bar's patrons had all been rounded up and kicked out an hour earlier. Thirty minutes after the departure of the two men, Chase went in with Riley covering his back to disarm the security system and let us in without tripping any alarms. Now I stood in the same large storage room Belle had described to us hours earlier. With me were Jaxon, Declan, Riley, Agent Boyd and Belle.

One wall was lined with metal shelving units filled with large bottles of various liquors. Across the room, three crates sat on the floor covered up with blue, all-weather tarps. The concrete floors were exposed under our feet and the three walls left bare were painted a stark white. The sparseness of the room should have comforted me. There was nothing blocking my view of the area. No cluttered corners that could contain surprises. However, my instincts were screaming at me and I couldn't help the instinctive reaction of my finger tightening closer to my rifle's trigger.

Alert and wary, I continued to scan my surroundings looking for all of the things common sense told me should be there. Like security cameras. Where were the small red lights indicating the room was being monitored? It wasn't possible criminals involved with smuggling guns were actually dumb enough to leave their storage area utterly defenseless. Was it? Although, the lack of small glowing lights mocked me until I had a horrible sense of unease in my gut. Getting in and out of this place as fast as possible was starting to sound like a really damn good idea.

The sound of Riley gently using a crowbar to pry the lid off one of the crates, quickly brought my attention back around. A few seconds later, Jaxon shined a light through the gap of the crate's lid and its body before letting out a low whistle.

Jaxon passed the small, high-powered flashlight to Belle while motioning his head for her to take a look inside. When she shined the light through the good size gap Riley had made, I watched in interest as she pursed her lips and looked at the contents. After a few seconds of perusal, she handed the flashlight back to Jaxon, who then gave the signal to seal the crate back up.

Riley closed the crate quickly as the remaining members of the room gave one last look around. My feet were itching to haul ass out of there. If only I could locate the source of whatever was putting me on edge, then I could take care of it. Something told me there was someone watching—someone waiting—which went against the all clear we had initially given the room. I looked back to see Riley putting the finishing touches on the crate, it looked exactly as we had found it. No one should ever be able to tell the contents had been opened and viewed.

As Riley gave the hand signal for the group to leave, I couldn't help silently giving thanks we were getting the hell out of there. I didn't know if we'd overlooked something—or if my instincts were all off—but the hairs standing up on the back of my neck told me we were standing in a trap and Belle was in danger. Either way, I heaved a tremendous sigh of relief when we finally cleared the building.

~~~

Thirty minutes later, weary EX Ops members filed through the door of Jaxon's hotel room. Belle was the last one through and I took a second to admire how hot she looked in her ATF gear. Wearing black jeans, a long-sleeve, black t-shirt with a bullet proof vest on top, and her badge and gun holstered to her waist. The whole kick-ass outfit she had going on right now was enough to make me sport an erection that felt seriously uncomfortable since I was in a room filled with other men. Including a couple of guys that were like brothers to me, but that hadn't stopped the boot stomping I'd promised Declan and Riley if they'd been trying to get an eyeful of Belle while she'd been getting dressed into her work clothes earlier. Frankly, I'd never known it was possible for a woman to change in less than three minutes in a vehicle without showing a peep of skin through the windows the whole time, but Declan had discreetly promised me neither he, nor Riley, had seen so much as a toe while she was getting ready. Not that my good ol' buddy Declan had been trying to take advantage of my sweet, vulnerable woman while she was changing clothes. He'd never do anything that despicable. Riiiiight.

She'd managed to pull her hair back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, showcasing the almost angelic features of her face. High cheekbones. Her slender neck that I once licked down to her collarbone. Damn, I'd give anything to strip her down right here and now, pull her hair loose, and bend her over the back of a chair while I spread those luscious globes of her ass wide and— "Deputy Miles might have been on to something after all, Agent Roberts." Jaxon crossed his arms over his chest while considering the young Deputy in question.

Belle nodded her head in agreement. "Looks like tonight wasn't a complete bust. A couple of crates of M4's and AK-47's aren't quite the load we were told to look for, but it's a start. My recommendation is to set up shift surveillance on the bar with small teams. That way we can rotate out. Those who aren't on surveillance duty can help follow any leads we come across. How does that sound to you, Commander Wall?"

Jaxon's gruff voice answered, "It's a place to start. We'll split up into teams tomorrow morning. Everyone should rest up tonight while we can and I'll expect a call in the morning from you so we can get specifics started."

Belle shook his hand before sending a general wave to the rest of the occupants in the room. "Everyone sleep tight now. Goodnight." She left the room with Boyd, Sheriff Jenkins and Deputy Miles right on her heels.

After I finally got back to my own room, I peeled off my black BDUs, weapons and boots, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Wearing nothing but my boxer briefs, I lay in the bed, thinking of Belle. She'd been hard to pin down when we were teenagers, but I'd won her over back then. It had taken a lot of time, a lot of talking in places like our high school cafeteria or in the hallways after class whenever I could track her down. Small moments had added up, proving to her that she wasn't some prank I was trying to pull by getting in her pants, or that I thought she was easy. By all means, the girl I'd known back then—and obviously the woman I was coming face to face with now—was the exact opposite of easy.

There were a lot of factors not in my favor this round. I'd hurt her; apparently, much worse than I'd ever dreamed of, and instead of loads of time and plenty of opportunities to wear her guard down, I was working on a short time span. All I could hope was that between the little bit of time I had, a little patience while I sat through what would undoubtedly be one nasty ass-chewing when she finally felt like talking to me again, and laying it all out on the table for her, maybe I could win her back. The first step would be to get her to agree to dinner. I could start off by apologizing. The rest would come after that. Baby steps and careful maneuvering around any emotional landmines I'd left behind when I'd just plain left her. I had no intentions of giving up this time. Belle was my woman. The other half of my soul. An intricate part of me that had felt lost for far too long.

Closing my eyes, my mind drifted back to better days.

Hot afternoons in the Georgia sun where we hid under a gigantic tree in the cooler shade. My larger body pinning her much smaller one beneath me as we lay in the prickly grass. Her soft hands gliding over my body. Fingertips tracing the lines of my chest before traveling down over my abdomen. One of my hands buried in her hair to hold her still for a kiss. My other hand slipping up under her shirt to stroke her breasts over her bra. Warm, sweet breath mingling as tongues entwined. A small extension of the two hearts that constantly sought solace in each other.

My heart constricted painfully at the thought of never getting that back. What would it take to lure the love of my life back into my arms? What were the chances Belle would forgive me? What the fuck would I do if she refused to forgive me after all?

God, I hoped I didn't have to find out.
Chapter

5

Bobby

Four days. How could the woman manage to dodge me for four damn days? If Belle saw me walking towards her, she would turn around and walk in the other direction. If there was a team meeting, she made like a ghost the second it was over and disappeared before I could say a word to her. Now, here I stood, ten o'clock at night, in the breezeway outside of my hotel room staring at the cigarette in my hand like it was the question of life.

To light or not to light?

I hadn't lit up a smoke in over two years. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me, either. I'd started smoking after having Mom and Dad tell me Belle had disappeared from Sylvania. The stress of not knowing where she was, or if she was safe, had driven me to bumming a cigarette from a buddy in the barracks. The residual pain that centered around my heart the following months after the letter caused me to start buying my own packs of cancer sticks. Every time the phone rang, my hopes rose sky-high it was my parents telling me she'd come home, but Belle never came home; the crash of disappointment from those phone calls resulted into trips to the walkway outside of my barrack's door so I could light one up and puff away some of the pain.

That was fifteen years ago and, since then, I'd quit smoking six times; mainly because Mom would bitch about how it was going to kill me and who would give her grandbabies if I up and croaked from cancer? I'd been free and clear of the little, white sticks of death for the last twenty-seven months, so I'd thought I had the habit kicked for good this time. Yet, here I stood, holding one I'd bummed from Riley in my hand, looking at the damn thing while listening to the internal debate going on in my head on whether I was going to light the son of a bitch or not. All because I couldn't handle not having her in my life. How lame was that? This lack of control shit made me a pansy of the highest order.

"Don't do it, Baker," Jaxon's gruff voice commanded me. He stepped out of the shadows that blackened out the end of the breezeway on his right. How long had he been standing there? I didn't know because that motherfucker moved around as if he was made of smoke and shadows, instead of flesh and bone like the rest of us. One minute there, gone the next, without ever making a sound. If I were a lesser man, I would have pissed myself at his sudden appearance. Instead, I chose to lift an inquiring eyebrow in his direction.

"You sound like a negotiator in one of those awful movie scenes where the guy is standing on the ledge of the building, threatening to jump."

Jaxon grunted in disgust. "It may not be dire, asshole, but I'd hate to see you throw all your hard work down the drain because you're letting your emotions get the best of you. You're a highly trained soldier. It's a shame you're not using the brains God gave you and the skills the Army taught you to handle this better."

My jaw bunched in frustration. "Really? What should I do? Kidnap her and keep her hostage until she agrees to hear me out? I think Uncle Sam would have a problem with that plan because I'd have to go off the grid for a while to do it."

Shaking his head, he said, "You're not a pimply-faced, little punk sitting in his boxers at home playing war games on his computer. You spent eleven years in the Army as a Ranger, and you're telling me they taught you nothing about how to approach a mission? You know nothing about strategy? You have absolutely no understanding of tactics?"

Cocking my head to the side as I considered his words, I thought about what he was trying to say. "You're telling me to dial down the emotions and analyze Belle as if she's a target; recon her movements, figure out what makes her tick, then find the best way to break her down so I can reach my endgame?"

"Isn't that a better idea than shooting two years of hard work down the shitter by sticking that disgusting thing in your mouth and smoking it?"

Looking back down to the cigarette in my hand, I decided Jaxon was right. Dropping it to the ground, I used the bottom of my boot to crush it to pieces. When I looked back up to Jaxon, it was to see the smallest hint of one side of his mouth tipped up.

The slight grin disappeared, though, when he nodded his head towards the decimated cigarette and then said, "You tell Sullivan if he gives you another poison stick, I'll kick his ass."

Then he disappeared back into the shadows, leaving me alone again. Only this time I wasn't standing there like a jerk with my thumb up my ass, with no idea what to do. No, now I had motivation again. Belle couldn't avoid me forever. One way or another, I'd find a way to get her alone to talk to me. Even if I had to grab her and tie her up to keep her in one place long enough to listen to what I had to say.

Annabelle

Three days later...

Frustrated. Tired. Seriously pissed off. I was feeling all of that and more as I sat at the piece of crap table in Declan Sullivan's room, holding a hand of playing cards and drinking cheap beer. This was after yet another pointless information and strategy meeting with the EX Ops team. It was a week after our initial undercover surveillance at the Big Bull Bar, and nothing was happening. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Not one teeny, tiny movement from the bar involving those crates. No chatter from our snitches or undercover officers concerning our investigation. No word from our informant inside the Mexican cartel. No progress whatsoever. I was starting to feel downright itchy to get this case solved. When I got itchy, things got twitchy, like my left eye and my trigger finger.

Of course, I didn't know who I wanted to shoot more. The assholes behind this black market problem, or Bobby Baker for being a constant pain in my ass. Every time I turned around, there he was. Asking for a minute of my time. Asking to take me out to dinner. Asking me if we could get naked to have hot, angry sex and then I could go back to hating him again after we were done.

Okay, he hadn't exactly asked for the hot, angry sex, but I could dream about it, right? I mean, dag-gum. The man had almost doubled in size from when I'd last seen him. He had all of these delicious muscles now that silently begged for me to explore them. When they rippled as he moved—even if it was simply him walking from one side of the room to the other—it was like they were talking to me. Tempting me. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear his crazy ass was doing it on purpose! Was it possible for a wily man and his rippling muscles to seduce a woman to the dark side? As I considered the possibilities to that answer—absentmindedly grabbing my bottle of beer off the table to take a swig—I realized the room was too quiet. Looking up from my cards, I saw all eyes were on me.

"What?"

Declan cocked an amused eyebrow. "Did you feel like playing that hand of cards you're holding, or did you want to have us bronze and memorialize them for something?"

Looking back down to my cards, which were shit, I decided to fold. Putting my cards on the table, I waved for the others to continue with the game. There were four of us in this room. Declan, Riley, myself, and him. I was still ignoring him, though. The three men had an easy camaraderie that made it obvious they not only got along, but they spent a lot of time together, too. Somehow, Declan had talked me into staying for drinks and a game of poker after the meeting, only to blindside me with Bobby as the cards were being dealt. I'd been set up. Apparently, you could trust these off-the-grid, special ops-type guys about as far as you could throw them. Sneaky jerks.

Since I didn't want to flounce out of there like some dramatic prom queen, I chose to sit here quietly, start the process of peeling the label off my second beer, and play poker with half of my mind hatching a plausible escape plan. One minute, I was quietly picking at the corner of the bottle's label, the next I was staring at the whisky bottle and shot glass that had magically appeared in front of me.

Tada! Hello temptation!

Giving a suspicious, squinty eye to the three men watching me, I asked, "What are y'all up to here?" My finger waved around in a circle to encompass what was probably a terrible idea in a bottle in front of me.

Riley shrugged. "We're not up to anything. You look too tense. Throw back some shots and chill the fuck out. None of us are on call, it's ten o'clock at night, and you might as well enjoy yourself."

After a short lived staring contest with Riley, which I lost—dammit—I cracked the bottle open, filled up my shot glass, and threw it back like a seasoned drinking pro. I even managed not to gasp from the burn of the fiery liquid going down my throat; although, it felt like it was lava and not alcohol. I was playing it off brilliantly like I drank shots all the time instead of the once in a blue moon I actually did. Riley grabbed the bottle and poured out four more shots, one for each of us, and I knew then and there I was doomed. This had all the ingredients of a recipe for disaster—alcohol, temperamental female emotions, and drool worthy muscles.

Well, they always said the road to hell was paved in good intentions. That must mean, with all of my bad intentions, my trip would be bone jarringly bumpy, traveling at the kind of speeds one saw on the Autobahn with a predestined crash at the end and not a seat belt in sight.

Bobby

Men don't wax poetic on how they feel about other men. It was in the unwritten man rules somewhere that we were allowed to burp, fart and scratch our balls around each other, but there would be no wordy displays of affection. Anyone who violated that rule would have to turn their man card in. Even if the other guy was my best friend and had covered my ass on more missions than I could count. At this moment in time, though, I was willing to make a serious exception to the man rules since Declan had talked Belle into staying for a game of poker and beer.

Now I was on the verge of telling Riley that Belle and I would name our first child after him because he was loading her up with booze. It was a low-down dirty play, but she wasn't giving me another in. If I could get her drunk, then get her talking, it could be the breakthrough I'd been looking for. In essence, maneuvering her into a drunken corner in order to keep her in one spot long enough for me to talk to her because, God knew, the woman wouldn't give me the time of day otherwise.

The game continued, and it was easy to see Belle was quickly slipping into a drunken stupor since she'd been squinting at her cards for the last four hands, trying to figure out in her head what she was holding. As if that wasn't cute enough, now she had the tip of her tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth like the crap hand of cards she was holding was a three thousand year old treasure map, and she was trying to figure it out to get the treasure. When I looked over to see the amused grins on Declan and Riley's faces aimed at Belle because she was once again holding up the game, it caused me to shake my head in feigned disgust. It was easy to see, after all these years, my girl still had no idea she was a natural at being cute.

Looking back to her, I muttered, "Baby, you going to play that hand or keep staring at it?"

Her head flew up and, for a moment, I braced myself for what was probably going to be a seriously pissed off woman's rant about how I had no right to call her baby anymore. Instead, she threw her hands up in the air in disgust, and then plopped them down on the table with not a care in the world she was flashing her cards to everyone. Huffing in annoyance, she exclaimed, "Gimme a second here, Ace! I'm tryin' to concentrate on what I'm doin'!"

My breath caught in my chest. You could never pay me enough to admit this aloud, hell, I'd never let anyone torture this fact out of me, but hearing her say the name 'Ace' for the first time in fifteen years was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. Hearing one little name again made my chest constrict painfully for a few seconds before slowly turning everything inside me into something warm and good. It was the closest thing I'd felt to being whole in a long damn time.

Not that Belle gave me any time to enjoy the nice warm feeling. Upon realization of what she'd said, all the color drained out of her face, and she was halfway out of the Sullivan's room before I could blink. Not that I was letting her get away from me this time. Throwing my cards on the table, I hauled ass after her, leaving the smirking Sullivan brothers in my dust. Luckily, the alcohol had slowed her down, and she hadn't made it very far down the breezeway when I caught sight of her again. By the time I was in arm's reach of her, she was unknowingly four steps short of my hotel room's door. Opportunity wasn't knocking, he was telling me to haul my girl, kicking and screaming, into my room and kick the damn door down to get there, if I had to.

Grabbing Belle's arm to stop her escape, I swung her body around until she was standing sideways in front of me, somewhat hysterical and confused. Before she could try to get away from me again, I scooped her legs out from underneath her, cradling her body in my arms like the precious package that it was. As I opened the door to my room, she started struggling to get away. It was too late for her, though. In my room—with the door closed, locked, and my body standing in front of it—there was no escape. Gently setting her feet on the floor, her body wobbled unsteadily from her inebriated state as she tried to slap my hands away from her.

"Gawd, Bobby! What in the hell are you doing? Get out of the way so I can go home!"

"No."

She froze in front of me at my answer. "No?"

"No."

"Why no?"

"Because, if I let you out that door, then you'll go back to this little game you've been playing at avoiding me and, baby, I'm tired of the fucking game."

Belle's mouth dropped open as she stared back at me in shock, mixed with resentment. A moment of silence passed between us before she angrily hissed, "You think I'm playing a game with you?"

My heart was thundering in my chest. This was it. Finally! Finally, we were going to have this come-to-Jesus talk that was so overdue between us that if the talk itself had been a library book, the late fee would resemble the national debt.

Planting my hands on my hips, I growled, "You trying to tell me that you haven't been playing some kind of game? You disappear for fifteen years without so much as a clue to where you're headed, then waltz back into my life and try to pretend I don't exist? You don't have the kind of love we had, Belle. Hell, you don't have a man like me—who's had his mouth on you, his cock in you—and then pretend like he doesn't exist. Now, I'm telling you I'm tired of this game and I'm tired of fucking waiting for you to give me a second of your time so we can talk about this shit."

Throwing her hands up in the air, she stumbled backwards a few steps and then screeched, "There's nothing to talk about, Bobby! Besides, I didn't have the man's mouth and cock. I had the boy's. There's a difference. A man, a real man that is, keeps his promises. Like the ones he made to come back. A boy hasn't grown up enough to realize how important promises are to keep."

My whole body jerked as if she'd slapped me in the face. It might have been words spoken instead of physical actions, but her accusation, sure as shit, had hit me hard enough to feel physical. Ignoring the way my airway suddenly felt closed off, I rasped, "I fucked up. I get that. I tried to make it right. Hell, I'm still trying to make it right. But. You. Won't. Let. Me."

The next thing I knew, she had her hand in my face, like she could stop the words coming out of my mouth as long as that hand was there to block them, which was a joke because, at the moment, she was so drunk she couldn't stop a fly from landing on her. The momentum of throwing her hand in my face had caused her to start a slow lean to the right and she didn't look like the lean was going to stop until she was face first in the carpet. If she didn't stop flailing around like this, she was going to fall and hurt herself. "Stay still and calm down."

Ignoring me, she continued waving her arms around. "Don't you get it? We've been over for fifteen years!"

Her body tipped dangerously the other way and, for a second, I thought for sure she was going to go head first into the wall now, instead of the carpet. The thought of her accidentally hurting herself was driving me crazy. I ground out between my teeth, "Calm down and give me your attention, dammit."

Instead of doing as I asked, she screeched, "What in the world do you think we need to talk about?"

I grabbed her by the hips to keep her from falling on her ass. The gesture clearly wasn't appreciated since she started trying to pry my hands off her. Ignoring her attempts to remove me, I pulled her closer until we were only an inch apart and she had no choice except to look me in the face.

The pupils were dilated in those big, beautiful, green eyes of hers. She was panting and clearly more nervous than outraged. Most of all, she was vulnerable and doing her best to hide it. What she didn't understand, yet, was I had no intentions of hurting the vulnerable side of her. I wanted to do the exact opposite. I wanted to protect it and her, so nothing could ever hurt her again the way I had.

"Do I have your attention now?"

Eyes wide, she nodded.

"Good, now listen closely because this is important and I want to make sure it penetrates somewhere through that thick skull of yours. We were never over, Belle, not as far as I'm concerned. Maybe on hold until I found you again, but never really over. I've been looking for you since the day you left Sylvania so I could tell you that I fucked up. I should have never sent you that letter."

Belle's breathing was ragged now. Eyes watery, threatening tears at any given second. Still, she didn't say a word.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, baby? I'm trying to say I'm sorry. I was so fucking stupid and I will go to my grave regretting how badly I hurt you, but I didn't just hurt you, I hurt us both. I've been walking around all these years in pain with what feels like these chunks of my soul missing. Moving through life with a heart that felt as if it wasn't actually beating, and how could it? It wasn't possible because everything that was ever good about me was missing and it was missing because I didn't have you."

Tears were streaming down her face now. She face planted into my chest as sobs racked her body uncontrollably. I'd started worrying I'd messed this all up more than fixed it because she was seriously drunk and crying so goddamn hard it wasn't possible for her to breathe. If I hadn't been holding her up, she would be a heap on the floor.

Raising my hands to frame her face, I tipped it gently back, wiped the tears away, and then made sure she was looking in my eyes again before I continued, "What I'm trying to say, Belle, is that I still lov-"

That fast she was on me. Practically climbing up my body with her own, causing me to stumble backwards until I landed against the door. Her lips slammed into mine as she forcefully thrust her tongue into my mouth; it was desperate and wild. She was holding onto me with her hands as if she was terrified to let me go and let me finish my sentence. That bothered me, too, but she felt so good against me that I couldn't bring myself to push her away and ask her why she didn't want to hear me say the words. Her soft tongue tangled with mine and the taste of whisky, beer and her own sweet essence was a heady combination that sent my senses whirling. One of her hands slid up into my hair just like she used to do when we were younger and, in that moment, I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven.

Moving on autopilot, my hands slid down her back, over her behind and didn't stop until they hit the tops of her thighs which allowed me to pick her up so she was pressed tight against me. She wrapped those sexy legs of hers around my waist and I held onto her by her lush bottom, an ass cheek in each hand, while I walked us quickly forward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. Holding her tightly, never stopping the hungry kisses, I moved us gently down onto the bed until she lay underneath me and I was settled between her thighs. Her kisses were starting to become a bit sloppier, but it didn't stop me from appreciating the feel of her lips on my own.

I thought when she'd used my nickname earlier that life couldn't get any sweeter. I was wrong. So very wrong. Holding her like this, kissing her like it was the most important thing I would ever do, I knew this would never be enough. I would always want more. Want to feel the soft glide of her bare skin against my own. Want to use my hands to pet and stroke her body until she was burning up from the inside-out for me. Need to kiss her all over so there wasn't a spot on her left untouched by my mouth. Feel her surrounding me in every sense of the word for the rest of my life. I wouldn't do any of those things, though. Not now while she was drunk so she could try and use this night to keep me at arm's length again tomorrow.

I let more of my body weight settle on top of her so I became too heavy for her to grind against me anymore; effectively trapping her beneath me. Then I started to slow our kisses down so that, eventually—after a few aggravated growls on her part—we were now enjoying each other's touches with long, lingering effects instead of racing towards something else. Her body started to relax into the bed, the movement of her hands moving up and down my back becoming sluggish, and I knew she was moments from passing out from the alcohol.

Pulling away from her lips, she gave a soft mewl of disappointment, and then quieted when I rolled to my side, taking her with me. My right arm became a pillow for her head and my left arm clamped tightly around her waist, pressing her soft curves into my front. I should have loosened my grip, giving her a little breathing room, but I didn't want to take the chance she'd try to get away from me again, so I didn't. Belle buried her face against my chest as I felt both of her hands fist the fabric of my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I patiently waited while her body's weight slowly went limp against me and she started slipping into sleep.

Just when I thought she was out, she mumbled into my chest. Slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her, I felt her raise her face up a little before she mumbled, "Missed you, Ace. I'm so, so sorry."

Was she awake and trying to talk to me after all? My heart skipped a beat at her admission that she missed me because I'd missed her so fucking much, too. Pulling back, I looked down at her face, but it was slack with sleep, except for the cute little furrow between her eyebrows. She was talking in her sleep. Well, at least her subconscious was willing to admit she missed me, but what in the hell could she be sorry for? I was the asshole that screwed it all up between us. 
Chapter

6

Annabelle

Ugh. It felt like there was a drum set playing in my head. And why was the bed moving underneath me? Gingerly cracking open one eyelid, the first thing I realized was that it was still dark out. Not merely in the room, but also outside since there was no light peeking around the curtains across the room from me. Curtains that looked absolutely nothing like the ones I had in my bedroom. The next thing I noticed was I was not lying on a bed, but on a body.

Sweet baby Jesus, what had I done last night?

I let my eyes slowly drift up the gray t-shirt that covered a thickly muscled chest and, oh boy, it was a nice chest, until I was looking at a man's neck and the underside of a solid, prominent jaw. Realizing who the jaw belonged to meant I had good news and I had bad news. The good news was, I knew who this incredible chest I was lying on belonged to, so I wasn't sleeping with a stranger, which would have been a first for me. The bad news was, I knew who the incredible chest I'd been sleeping on belonged to and, apparently, drooling on since I was now looking back down to the incredible chest and the wet spot there that stood out where my mouth had been positioned. It was Bobby Baker. How in the Holy Hell did I end up in bed with Bobby?

Looking down to my own body, I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that I still had clothes on. Of course, there was a small part of me that was disappointed I had clothes on, but as the Rolling Stones were famous for saying, you can't always get what you want. Despite all the hurt between us, what I'd always wanted desperately was Bobby. Hazy memories started to develop as I watched him sleep. Fuzzy snippets where he said the things I'd dreamt of him saying to me in my loneliest moments through the years.

I should have never sent you that letter.

Eight words I'd never thought I'd hear, along with an apology and his attempt to tell me he still loved me. One would think those words would be exactly what I wanted and—in a way—they were, but they were also the last thing I wanted because a letter and a broken heart weren't the only things between us. There were secrets between us, too. Only Bobby didn't know about them yet.

When he found out the truth, the tide would change. Instead of looking at me with hope and love shining in his eyes, he would look at me with anger and betrayal. My carefully constructed world was about to be blown to bits because I knew—down to the bottom of my heart—that I had no choice except to tell him the truth now. It was easy to justify the secrets when I was able to hold onto the hurt and miles between us. Now he was here and had apologized, I was drowning in the realization I had well and truly screwed up big time.

There was certainly no coming back from what I'd done. The only thing that hurt more right now than the knowledge Bobby would well and truly hate me soon were the 'what if' thoughts. What if I'd done it all differently back then? What if I'd stayed in Sylvania? Things might be different now, but there was no going back. No time machine to help me right my wrongs. No, all I had was this moment to cherish before the sun would rise on my problems and my life would once again be irrevocably changed forever. I was going to grab onto this moment with him with both hands and make the most of it. Make enough memories to last me a lifetime before he walked away from me for good.

Sitting up slowly on the bed, I looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand that said—in glowing red numbers—it was four o'clock in the morning. Hopefully, he wasn't a morning person because that could blow the plan forming in my head to bits. Brushing the worry away, I maneuvered myself carefully out of the bed until I was standing on the floor next to it. The room wasn't exactly spinning from the hangover I had, but I was a bit fuzzy in the brain. It wasn't enough to stop me from what I wanted to do, though. I was watching him like a hawk for the smallest indication he would wake up, but he didn't move. Glancing to the door of the room, I debated leaving. It might be for the best. What I was about to do would only hurt us both further after everything came to light.

Though, when I looked back at Bobby's sleeping form, I couldn't make my feet move towards the exit. It was selfish and it was going to exacerbate all of my problems, but I needed this from him. Needed to feel the connection I knew would still be there once we started touching each other. Wanted to feel, if only for a little while, the depths of his affections in the most fundamental way before everything crashed down around me again. Perhaps it would make him hate me more later, but then, that might be for the best, as well. What I'd done was unforgivable, and I didn't deserve what I was about to give myself in his arms, but I was going to take it anyway.

Deciding not to waste any more time, I peeled my shirt off over my head. Then, with swift, but still somewhat wobbly movements, I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them over my hips and down my legs, along with my panties, until they pooled at my feet around my cowboy boots. Slipping my feet out of my boots, I stepped out of them to peel my socks off. Finally, I snapped open the front enclosure of my bra and slid it down my arms and off my body. I stood there, fully exposed for a moment, watching his dreaming eyes move around under his closed eyelids.

Was he dreaming of me? Imagining a life for us where we could be old and gray, sitting in a swing on a front porch somewhere, while we watched future grandchildren playing? Thinking up a life where we would always be together instead of apart? These were all things I'd dreamed of over the years. It was nice to think maybe he'd dreamt those things, too. They were also things that would never happen.

Making myself move before I lost my courage, I carefully crawled back across the bed to minimize moving it around and then positioned myself so I was straddling his prone body. It was probably a small miracle I'd managed to do all of that without losing my balance, falling on top of him, and making a jackass out of myself. His eyelids twitched and he groaned as my movements jostled the bed, causing him to start being brought into consciousness.

Setting my trembling hands on his stomach, slipping my thumbs underneath the edge of his shirt, I slowly started to push the fabric up to reveal his body to me in slow, agonizing inches. There was a small, dark line from his happy trail that disappeared into his jeans. Continuing to move the shirt up, I revealed a tan, defined six-pack that begged me to trace it with my lips, so I did. His abdomen gave an involuntary spasm at the touch and he mumbled something incoherent. My hands kept moving his shirt up, with my lips skimming over the skin I revealed along the way, until I was past his stomach and pushing fabric over his small, brown nipples. That's when two strong hands grabbed my wrists to stop my progress. Lifting my face from where I'd been kissing his skin, I couldn't help smiling at his drowsy, confused face.

His voice rumbled low, "What are you doing?"

"Making a memory."

He shook his head. "I won't take advantage of you, Belle. You had too much to drink last night and you're probably still out of it."

Leaning back down, I placed another kiss, followed by a slow, swirling lick to one of his nipples. Every muscle in his body locked up underneath me and he gave a hiss. Peeking back up at him through my lashes, I stopped long enough to say, "I'm not drunk and I'm not out of it. Trust me when I say, I'm completely in this moment with you."

Those stunning blue eyes of his watched me with intense scrutiny; judging the sincerity of my words. Not waiting to see what his decision would be, I closed the distance between us and kissed him with all the ferocity of my emotions. His lips were hesitant at first, but when I traced his full, bottom lip with my tongue, silently asking for entrance to his mouth, he gave in on a groan and kissed me back. His hands came up to tangle in my hair while I slipped one of my hands down to the fly of his jeans. When his jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and I had pushed them halfway down his butt, I broke off our kiss as my hands shoved under his t-shirt, pulling it up quickly over his upper body and whipping it off to throw it over my shoulder somewhere behind me.

Bobby lay back down on the bed and watched my hands as they slowly traced the dips and grooves of his muscles. He'd had definition at eighteen. Now, at thirty-three, he had more of everything to define. Scooting down the bed, keeping my hands on his body as they moved over his pecs, his six-pack, skirting around his erection that was already thick and laying up to his belly button, I moved my hands over his built thighs until I knelt down on the bed by his feet and was looking up the length of his body. Yes, everything on him was bigger now.

Pulling his jeans down his legs, then dropping them over the end of the bed and onto the floor, I never took my eyes off his body. Everything about Bobby was utterly breathtaking. Looking back up to his face, my eyes locked onto him like I was a heat-seeking missile and he was the target. I couldn't blink because, if I opened my eyes and this disappeared because it was some dream, I would never recover. Staring into his bright blue depths, I started sliding back up the bed, between Bobby's legs. Starting from the inside of his knees, up to right below his groin, I used my nails to scratch his skin; not hard enough to break the skin, but I was certainly going to leave my mark. His swollen, full length twitched as I moved closer to it and hovered over him.

"Don't tease," he rumbled.

"Who said I'm teasing you?"

"Babe, you're staring at my cock like it's your favorite flavor of ice cream and licking your lips, but you're not doing anything about it."

I'd been licking my lips? Immersed in the sight of him before me, I hadn't even noticed. Not that I cared. What woman wouldn't look at this body of his and lick her lips with want? I licked my lips again, slowly, with the tip of my tongue, purposely exaggerating the movement, and his eyes narrowed at me in accusation.

Grabbing him in one hand, gently squeezing the heated flesh, I watched as his eyes closed and his head dropped back in pleasure. Moving my hand up and down in firm, slow strokes, I asked, "You want me to do something about this?"

"Yes," he groaned, fisting both of his hands in the sheets.

Giving him another firm, slow stroke, I continued, "Are you sure you don't want me to tease you just a little bit?" My hand stopped its movement and, instead, I squeezed him again.

His eyes shot open, a fire building in them and he groaned out in frustration, "Woman..."

That scowl of his promised revenge and, even though I knew it would never come after tonight, I decided it might be best to stop torturing him on the off chance he did find a way to pay me back. Sliding him into my mouth, I savored the salty taste of him as I moved down his length. Looking up his body, his eyes caught and held mine as I worked him. There was a flush to his cheeks and his breathing was coming faster now.

The fire of emotions burning in his eyes only seemed to grow brighter and I knew instinctively it was because he liked to watch me work him. It made me feel sexy. It made me want to be bolder with him. One of my hands was wrapped around the base of his cock so I used my free hand to reach down and roll his balls between palm and fingers. They were already drawn up hard and tight and, at the feel of me touching them, his back bowed, head pressed hard into his pillow, heels digging into the mattress. He was moments from losing it. I was so turned on from watching him struggle not to let go that I was already wet for him. Aching for him to fill me. As I was doing my best to push him over the edge with my hands and mouth, something happened. One moment, I was working him with everything I had and the next, my body was suddenly airborne until I landed hard on my back with Bobby's body covering me.

His eyes seemed fevered now when he said, "Not. Yet."

I panted, "But, Bobby—" He silenced me with a quick, hard kiss. Pulling away, he slid down my body, threw my legs over his shoulders as I pushed up on my elbows and protested, "But Bobby—"

"Shut it, woman. Trying to do something here."

Then his mouth was on me. My elbows gave out from underneath me and I fell back to the bed again. We'd always been generous with each other's bodies when we were kids, using our hands and mouths to get each other off, but this was different. This was so much more. Everything felt heightened. His tongue was traveling over my entrance, up and over my clit, licking me like he couldn't get enough of me. His finger was pressed up high inside of me and curled just enough that it hit the magical spot.

I felt my mouth moving, but I had no idea what I was saying because my head felt light and there was a buzzing in my ears. He wasn't trying to push me over an edge, he was strapping me to a rocket, lighting the fuse and I was milliseconds from exploding all over him. When it hit me, it felt as if someone had blown me apart, molecule by molecule, until there was nothing of me left except for the heart and soul of me, which was my undying love for Bobby.

There was no time to think, though. No time to throw up some of those emotional defenses to protect myself from his assault. What a clever girl I'd thought I was when I'd started this with him, thinking I could control everything to minimize my eventual fallout. No, between one breath and the next, he was there, sliding into me, filling me like no one ever had before, or would again. It felt so good—him inside me—and that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt too good. He wasn't wearing protection.

"Condom," I gasped. "You forgot to put on a condom!"

He started to pull out and I thought he was going to fix our problem, but before he pulled entirely out of me, he was surging back in, shaking his head no, and gritting through his teeth.

"Nothing between us, Belle." Pulling almost all the way out, he moved his hands until they were holding my legs behind the knees and positioning me so I was spread open wide and bare for him, then he powered back inside me. "Nothing will ever be between us again. God, being inside you feels like coming home."

Tears filled my eyes and a sob tore out of my chest. Bobby's face softened and I could tell he thought they were tears of joy in celebration of us being together again. How I wish they were. They were really tears of gut-wrenching pain and want. How I'd give anything for there to be nothing between Bobby and I again, in every sense of the word, but that wasn't the case and—all too soon—he would figure it out. For now, I still had him and this moment so I was going to make the most of it.

Just like fifteen years ago, the last time he'd made love to me on the bank of the creek in Georgia, I whispered, "Make love to me, Ace. I'm about to come, and I wanna feel you inside me when I do."

Seeing the desperate flash in his eyes, I knew he remembered that time, that moment of love between us and those words. Letting go of my legs, he stroked up into me again, and then brought himself down over me until our lips were touching as he whispered, "First, tell me who loves you."

More words from him I'd never thought to hear again. Tears escaped out of the corner of my eyes and I had to close them quickly so he wouldn't see the emotional war going on inside of me. Unable to reopen them and look the man I was betraying in the eye, I whispered back, "You do, Bobby."

Kissing each eyelid and then the tear tracks on my face, he started moving inside me again as he said, "That's right, sweet baby. Remember that."

Bobby

Rolling from my back to my side in my sleep is when an internal alarm inside of me started going off. There should have been a warm, soft female body I'd have to roll over with me. My arms now felt empty when they should be full of the woman who I'd made love to earlier. Reaching a hand out across the bed, I encountered no lush, feminine curves, instead there were only empty sheets. Sheets that were still a little warm from her body heat, but empty long enough that the indention from her pillow was long gone. Not wanting to appear like some frantic jackass in case she was in the bathroom, I laid there with my eyes still closed as I used my hearing to listen for signs of movement. At least a minute ticked by, and no sounds came to me.

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to open my eyes and see the truth, but knew I had to do it anyway. She was gone. Belle had up and left me sometime after we'd made love. Turning my head in the direction of the window and, subsequently, the digital clock, I opened my eyes enough to see it was now nine o'clock in the morning and daylight was streaming in around the curtains.

Knifing out of bed, I looked for signs of her. Her clothes. Her boots. A note with her swirling cursive signature that would hopefully say she'd left to go get us some breakfast. Something to give me hope she hadn't walked out of this room like nothing had fucking happened. After I'd torn the room apart looking for hope and finding none, I gave into my anger instead and punched a hole in the wall. Pulling my scraped and bleeding hand out of the sheetrock, I couldn't help noticing the size of the hole in the wall kind of looked like the size of the hole that she'd just punched through my heart.

Annabelle

Walking up to my front door, I was grateful that at least the hangover headache was gone. If I was lucky, I would find that Seth wouldn't be in the house, either, so I wouldn't have to explain my whereabouts for the night. As I inserted my key into the deadbolt lock, the door was snatched open for me. Lifting my head up from the space of air where the lock used to be to the angry green eyes that were directed at me was not an easy thing to do. I should have known I would not be lucky enough to get away from a confrontation with Seth. Now, it was time to face the music.

Taking a step forward, I tried to step inside my own house, but my way was still blocked by the body vibrating with anger in front of me.

"You going to move out of my way and let me in, or are we going to keep standing here like this?" I managed to push the question out with a lot more courage than I was currently feeling. My girl, Teagan, always said you had to fake it 'til you could make it, though, so I had become a master over the years at faking things like courage and common sense until I could work them up for myself.

Keeping his arms spread wide between the door frame and the front door, Seth mocked back, "You wanna tell me where the hell you've been all night? I was worried."

Nope, apparently, I wasn't getting into my own house without a fight first. I should have known I was going to have something go wrong after successfully sneaking out of Bobby's room this morning. It had been too easy. Propping my hands on my hips, straightening my back and doing my best to exert confidence and attitude, I snapped back at him, "You do not cuss at your Momma, Seth Baker. I ought to whip your behind for talking to me that way."
Chapter

7

Bobby

"Anybody know what the fuck Baker's problem is? He's acting like a pissy, little girl today. I'm about to kick his ass to New York and back."

"Don't you have man-scaping, or something, to do, Lucas? Leave Bobby alone, he's having woman problems," Declan shot back down the conference table where those of us not on shift yet were all sitting, eating pizza.

"That sweet, little, blonde ATF agent? What kind of problems could you have with a piece of ass that fine, man?"

In general, I usually didn't mind locker room talk with the boys, but when it came to Belle, I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone call her a piece of ass. Pointing my finger in Lucas's direction, I growled, "You never call her a piece again! You got me?"

Lucas seemed surprised at my vehemence on the subject, but he gave me a chin lift that told me it was all good. Rubbing a hand over the back of my stiff neck, I once again mentally kicked myself in the ass for sleeping through Belle's departure from my room. The woman was seriously starting to give me a complex. One thing was for sure, though, next time I got her in bed, I was going to handcuff her ass to me. It would be amusing to see how she would try and get out of that one. I was staring down at the uneaten pizza slice on my plate when Riley's voice cut through my thoughts.

"I don't know what you're thinking, man, but I hope you're not giving up on her."

Looking over to him, I shook my head. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. From the moment she walked into headquarters over a week ago, I feel as if I've been tripping over myself to talk to her. When I feel like we've taken a step forward, she turns around and takes two steps back. After last night, I'd honestly thought we'd gotten somewhere."

Riley gave me a sad smile. "Man, don't you know just because your girl gives you the business, does not mean she's over whatever snit she's worked herself into. Trust me on that. My wife would give me the cold shoulder, I'd warm her back up, if you know what I mean, and yet, I'd still find myself sleeping on the couch."

When he stopped talking, I couldn't help it, but my jaw dropped in shock. "I think that's the most words you've ever said to me in three years."

He punched me in the shoulder. "Shut your trap. We can't all be touchy feely with our emotions like Declan."

Looking at the older Sullivan brother, I saw what most of our team saw. An outstanding soldier. An honorable man who had the back of anyone in our group. An accomplished SEAL. He should be a happy man with nothing except good things to look forward to in his future, since he was only thirty-one with presumably many years ahead of him. However, he was a shell of a man. Sure, he went through the motions. He ate, slept, worked and even hooked up on a regular basis like the rest of us, but his heart wasn't in it. According to Declan, his brother's heart hadn't been involved in anything since his wife had miscarried their first child and then left him. Riley Sullivan was a ghost of a man walking around with a shit load of regrets. I did not want to end up like him.

He was a man who was entirely too astute to what other people were thinking because he took one look at me and knew what had crossed my mind. I knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt, too, because he shrugged a shoulder and murmured, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to be me, either, if I were you. I guess you better do what I never did and fix it."

He picked up his empty plate, walked over to the trash can to dump it and then left the room, presumably to head back to his own where he would puff on more cigarettes than humanly possible while playing his acoustic guitar. The former of his activities would probably give him cancer before he was forty-five because he smoked so much. No one had a clue how he managed to stay in the top physical condition he was in. The latter of his activities was pleasant to listen to because one of the good habits Riley Sullivan had picked up after his wife had left him was how to play guitar. Amazingly, the man could seriously fucking play. All of that being said, I still did not want to end up anything like Riley—a shell of a man who missed his wife more than anyone knew was possible with no prospects on how to get her back.

No, I wanted to do what he hadn't done; I wanted to fix what was wrong between Belle and I. Of course, in our situation, I was not the problem anymore. I'd apologized to her. I'd even tried to tell her I loved her before she'd pulled her feisty monkey routine and climbed up my body like it was a vine in the jungle. Now the problem was Belle. The million dollar question was: how to fix the problem?

I watched as Lucas got up from the table, threw his plate away, gave me and Jaxon chin lifts and then exited the Commander's hotel room. It didn't take long before Jaxon filled the silence.

"So, she snuck out on you, huh?"

Cringing at his choice of words, I tried to save face. "I'm not sure if she snuck out on me..."

"Yes, she did. I was at the end of the breezeway getting ice out of the machine when I watched her tiptoe out of your room and then haul ass to her truck. That's practically the definition of the next morning sneak out."

Glaring at the other man, I mumbled, "You trying to stomp all over my pride?"

Jaxon pointed one of his fingers at me. "That's your problem."

"What's my problem?"

"You thinking you can hold onto your pride and win her back. Didn't anyone ever teach you that love has no pride?"

"Commander, did you just quote a Bonnie Raitt song to me?"

"Well, at least you didn't say it was a Linda Ronstadt song. How the hell did you know that?"

I laughed at the ridiculousness of this situation; two grown men sitting around, talking about a love song from the seventies they weren't even around to hear because we hadn't been born yet. "My mom is a huge Bonnie Raitt fan. We might not want to let the other guys ever know about this conversation, though. We may never live it down."

"I won't say a word, if you won't. That aside, my point is still the same. If you want her back, you're going to have to put your pride aside."

"That's not a problem. The problem is she's slicker than snot on a glass doorknob. Every time I think I've got her right where I want her—like last night—she ends up twisting me all up in knots until I don't know if I'm coming or going, then slipping right past me."

Jaxon sat there tapping a finger against his lips as he contemplated me. It was the equivalent to feeling like the bug under the microscope in science class. Not fun.

"You ever hear of Sun Tzu, Bobby?"

"Who hasn't, when you do what we did in the military?"

"How familiar with him are you?"

"Not that familiar. What's your point, Commander?"

"In The Art of War they quote Sun Tzu as saying, 'He will conquer who has learnt the artifice of deviation.' Do you know what that means?"

"Are you giving me advice or a history lesson?"

"Both, so listen up, knucklehead. Back then, the generals would sit on top of a hill, or something, so they could have a vantage point over the ongoing battle below them. Select soldiers were charged with carrying flags that would be used to communicate with their fellow troops to show them when they were supposed to move and where they were supposed to go. A good general would use his vantage point, his signal system and his intelligence to his advantage in the sense that, if his opponent changed course, he could signal his own troops to deviate from their intended destination and converge on the opposing troops wherever they may be."

"The purpose of the history lesson and the quote is that, sometimes you have to know when to adjust or deviate from a change in battlefield tactics while the battle is still ongoing so you can win it. Up to this point, you've tried giving Belle patience, time and space to work through things. Then, last night, you used Declan and Riley to try and surprise-attack her, in a sense, with your presence in the room so she couldn't escape you. You may have made some headway with her, but the war is still ongoing."

"Alexander the Great's ability to change tactics during his battles won him many wars. You want to be more like him. Right now, you're acting more like the United States and the lack of tactics they used in the Vietnam War. The U.S. would not convert to the guerilla warfare tactics that the Vietnamese soldiers used, so we lost the war and suffered heavy casualties. Stop acting like one of those casualties. It's time for you to reconsider your tactics and change them. Next time she starts to outmaneuver you, change your approach again to keep her on the edge. Eventually, you'll find the way to break through."

This was the reason why Jaxon Wall had been picked to be the Commander of the Ex Ops Unit. The man was highly intelligent, had an excellent head for tactics and strategy, and somehow managed to still be approachable to his men. "I didn't think you ever used your super powers for good, Jaxon."

"What in the world are you talking about, Baker? I'm here with the good guys now, aren't I?"

"Yes, but usually you don't use your super powers for good when it comes to us. Most of the time, you seem like the evil villain with the stick stuck up his ass and who hasn't been laid in at least a year."

"Name one time I was this so called 'evil' to you!"

"Well... there was the jungle..."

Throwing his hands up in the air, the man stood up and walked towards the door grumbling. "I send him to the jungle one time, where a monkey flings shit on him, and he's yet to let me live it down."

The door closed behind the now grumpy Commander and I couldn't help smiling as I sat in his empty room. I should stop picking on the man. He had a good point about what I should do next when it came to Belle, but he made it too easy sometimes to poke a little fun at him.

First, I was going to lay it all on the line for her. Bare everything I had and set aside my pride. Maybe even throw in a little groveling. If that didn't work, I would sit down and think on how I could change my tactics with her to switch it up. One way or another, I was going to win this little war she'd put us in.
Chapter

8

Annabelle

As I crossed the parking lot to where my truck was parked, a familiar voice called my name from behind me.

"Belle! Hold up a second!" Bobby jogged towards me while I stood there with my arms crossed waiting for him.

Sometime over the past week, the anger I had been carrying towards Bobby had started to melt away. Then, after he'd apologized two nights ago for leaving me back in Sylvania and we'd made love yesterday morning, all I was left with was the pesky guilt. Guilt and regret. Yet, I wasn't allowing myself to look at the regret too closely. I couldn't really afford to let myself to.

Bobby came to a stop in front of me. I couldn't help cringing a little at his anger. Avoiding him like the plague yesterday after sneaking out of his room probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it was exactly what I'd done. After having a beautiful moment happen between us in his room—especially without a condom and all of the possible repercussions of that, which I was refusing to think about—I needed some time and space to put myself back together. Fidgeting nervously, I shoved my hands in my pockets.

Now it was his turn to cross his arms over his chest. Only his stance didn't scream self-preservation like mine had. His body language said he was mad at my disappearing act and determined to get answers.

"I know you're busy and all, but I was hoping you'd like to have dinner with me sometime." I started to protest, but he grabbed my upper arms gently to stop me from speaking. "Wait a minute. Hear me out for a second. I'm not asking for much here, Belle. Only a chance for the two of us to go somewhere together so I can have the opportunity to apologize. Maybe explain a few things. I think that's the least you owe me after the way you left me yesterday."

Turning my head to look at my truck, I thought it over. Declan's plea echoed in the back of my mind; the one where he asked me to let Bobby apologize so he could move on with his life. The knowledge that I needed to tell Bobby about Seth churned in my gut. When he found out he had a son, Bobby would unquestionably go on with his life. My fear, now, was that he was going to take my son when he left and I didn't know if I could survive that.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to let Bobby have his say now. If I accepted his apology and explanation, he could shut down his thoughts of rekindling something between us before I told him about Seth. It might even minimize his pain if he was already under the conclusion there was no hope for the two of us. Give him some closure and I could see now, as he was looking at me with all that hope in his eyes, he needed it. Maybe it wouldn't be so horrible if I could at least give him that. Lord knew I was ultimately responsible for our situation more than he was.

However, it was a Friday night and there was no way I was going to go to dinner with Bobby on what most would consider a date night. This needed to be something a bit more casual. Definitely more emotionally safe than anything that might be misconstrued as romantic.

"How about lunch today, instead? There's a small Mom & Pop place in Poteet where I stop to eat a lot."

Bobby beamed back at me. "That would be great. Want to leave now?"

"Yeah, let's go. Get in the truck."

Bobby

A short time later, Belle and I sat across from each other in a small booth in the back of the restaurant. Although the small diner had a bright and cheery down home atmosphere, I couldn't help wiping my sweaty palms over the top of my jeans. I watched as Belle generally avoided eye contact with me. Staring down at the blue and white checkered tablecloth, she aimlessly ran her fingers over the condensation on the outside of her water glass.

Not sure how to start this conversation, I glanced around the restaurant. A tiny vase of wildflowers sat on the end of the table against the wall partition. Customers talked amongst each other as waitresses ran around with trays full of food.

As I was ready to break up the thickening silence between us, a petite woman in a cornflower blue uniform walked up. Her dark hair was in pig tails and she couldn't have been more than nineteen-years-old. Quickly, she recited the specials of the day before sweetly asking what we would be having.

My stomach was in knots. I didn't think I could eat much without having to worry if it would come back up at any given moment, so I stayed on the safe side and only ordered two cheeseburgers with a side of home style fries and a large sweet tea. Belle ordered the club sandwich and a diet coke. Awkward silence fell again after the waitress left to place their order.

Looking up, I caught Belle looking at me with a slightly amused expression.

Curiosity got the best of me.

"What's that look for?"

She let out an unfeminine snort. "You still eat like a horse on steroids, don't you?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I told her, "That was nothing. I usually eat way more than that."

Belle's eyebrows jacked up to her hair line.

I felt like a scared teenager, which was ridiculous. I was a thirty-three-year-old, highly trained soldier. One small woman with an outrageous hour glass body should not be able to tie me up in a thousand knots like this. My throat felt almost clogged and I was starting to wonder if the words were ever going to be able to work themselves out. You'd think I'd be a bit more pissed off at her after the trick she'd pulled yesterday morning, but I couldn't bring myself to be mad at her. It was probably due to the fact she was still upset from me leaving her and didn't know how to deal with it. I'd have to show her I didn't plan on going anywhere or leaving her this time. Belle sat across from me still staring at me like I was an alien who ate small children for breakfast. Deciding to take advantage of her unusually quiet demeanor, I made solid eye contact with her and decided to get it over with.

Nervously, I blurted, "I'm sorry. Words can't even express how sorry I am. I don't want to give you any lame excuses. Simply the truth. Here it goes. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote that letter to you. My mind was in a funny place with this new, almost overwhelming, world around me. I started second guessing everything in my life. Then my buddy found out his wife had slept with his brother after we had arrived at our Advanced Training School. In a weak moment, it made me wonder about us, too."

I quickly grabbed her hands in my own when she looked ready to hit me. "Not that I thought you would cheat on me, or vice versa. More like, I was scared for a brief moment you'd regret marrying me at such a young age. That you would come to resent me for not seeing more of the world outside of our relationship than you had."

"That's when I wrote the letter. About two weeks after I wrote it, I realized what a monumental mistake it was. I was panicked because we weren't always allowed to make phone calls, so I wrote a letter to Mom and Dad asking them to find you for me. I'd included a separate letter for them to give you, telling you that I was the world's biggest idiot for doing what I did, telling you how much I love you, asking you to forgive me, asking you for forever again."

"The problem was Mom and Dad couldn't find you. When I was able to call them about a week later, they said no one had seen you around. They looked for months. I called everyone I knew back home, trying to find you. Everyone told me it was like you up and disappeared."

Belle pulled her hands out of mine so my thumbs no longer drew little circles on her skin. Folding her hands on the table, Belle squeezed them together tightly. The tips of her fingers went bloodless and it was the only outward sign she gave me that she was trying her best to hide how shaken she felt inside.

"What did you expect me to do, Bobby? Stay in Sylvania? A town that loved to rub my face in the knowledge that I was born on the wrong side of the trailer park? Stay where those stuck up pageant queens could remind me how I had no business dating you? A good boy from a respectable family. Perhaps you expected me to stay with that dickhead father of mine so he could beat me into the ground like he did my mom. Teagan was already long gone. There was nothing left for me there."

I covered Belle's shaking hands with my own again. "No, Belle. I understand why you left. I honestly do. It tore me to pieces when I couldn't find you. To fix what I had done. Please don't get upset. That's not what my goal was today."

One of Belle's delicate eyebrows popped up again. "What are your goals today, Bobby?"

Inhaling a shaky breath, I looked down at our hands as I started to rub my thumb back and forth over her knuckles. "I don't know. Apologize. Explain. Maybe beg you to forgive me. Hope you'd be interested in giving me another chance. Tell you that you're still mine. Last, but not least, get some answers so I can understand things a bit better." I glanced back up to see regret on Belle's pretty face.

Her face drained of color and she whispered, "What answers are you looking for? You said you understood why I left."

"I get that you wouldn't stay with your dad. My parents told me about the fresh bruise on your face the day you showed up at their house and they gave you my letter. I understand why you would feel like you wouldn't have anywhere else to go since Teagan was gone. What I don't understand is why you moved halfway across the country to Texas. I also don't understand why you changed your last name to Roberts. You changing your last name is probably the reason why my private investigators couldn't find you all of these years. It had to be an under the table job, too, since, if it was done legally, they would have caught the court records of your name change in any searches they had done. How about you explain those things?"

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment before responding to me.

"Look, Bobby, I appreciate you explaining everything to me. I really do. The apology means a lot, too. Maybe if I hadn't left Sylvania and moved on with my life, things would be different for us now. The thing is, though, I did leave. Moved on from the past. Where my life sits now... I don't think it's a good idea to try and pick up where we left. There are aspects of my life that you probably wouldn't be able to handle. We had it good while we had it and, with the hurt and the anger gone now... maybe we can look back at the past to appreciate that what we had was special. We were each other's first loves. We'll always have that."

She was emotionally pulling away from me again and I didn't like it one bit. Squeezing her hand, I did my best to hide my disappointment. "You weren't just my first love, Belle. You were my only love. There hasn't been a woman since that has touched me to the core the way you did. I know, without a doubt, there won't be anyone in the future that can do it, either."

A look of guilt passed over Belle's face again and, as she opened her mouth to say something, the waitress stopped at the table to drop off our food. I watched an inscrutable wall go up around Belle's features. It looked as though she was done talking for the time being. Well, that was too damn bad. She was going to give me answers before we left here, whether she liked it or not. I'd give her a few minutes to think she'd won this battle, but then, I was going to do whatever it was that I had to do to show her it was only a small battle she'd won. I was damn well going to win the war and my reward would be her love.

Halfway through our meals I switched gears. "Why did you change your last name?"

Cocking her head to the side, she asked, "What else do you know about what happened before I left? You said your mom and dad told you about a bruise. Did they tell you anything else?" Shaking my head no, I waited for her to elaborate. Taking a slow sip of her drink, she put it down and then calmly continued, "I got that bruise because Daddy came home drunk again. He was yelling at me about something and I didn't have a clue about what he was talking about. When he hit me hard enough I hit the floor, I saw an empty whisky bottle of his lying underneath the coffee table. He was still standing over me, accusing me of something I hadn't done, and all I thought was, 'I can't take it anymore.' So, I slowly reached over with my hand, grabbed the neck of that bottle, and when he leaned over, about to hit me again, I swung with everything I had. Clocked him right in the head." She gave a short pretend swing with her arm over the table to emphasize her point.

"I would say I don't know who it scared more, me or him, but since he was sprawled out on the floor with blood pouring from his head—not moving—I'm going to say it was me because, for a few moments, I thought I'd killed him. I finally worked up the courage to check his pulse, which he had, and then I realized when he came to he was probably going to kill me. I grabbed his truck keys and I ran scared to your parents' house. I was going to ask to stay with them."

The silence was damning. She didn't need to say the next part because I already knew what it was. And then I got your letter.

She heaved a sigh. "After I left your parents' house, I drove around for a little while trying to figure out what I was going to do. I knew I couldn't stay with him anymore, but I knew I didn't have anywhere else to go in the county. That's when it hit me. I'd been saving up all my spare money from working for when we got our place together, so I could help you buy furniture and stuff. That money was my salvation. There wasn't a lot, but it was enough to pay for a bus ticket and keep me fed sparingly for a couple of weeks until I landed somewhere and got a job. I drove home, hoping Daddy was still unconscious, that maybe I could pack my bags and leave before he came to, and instead I found him outside of our trailer, talking to the Sheriff's Deputies. He'd called the cops on me." Shaking her head in disgust, she said, "He was standing there with a bloody washcloth to his head, talking to the Deputies about how I'd hit him. Can you believe that?

"Luckily, none of them saw the truck before I would have turned into the trailer park, so I was able to get away, but I had to go hide his car so no one could find me. Once I lost his truck, I hoofed it back to the trailer, staying unnoticed by walking through the woods instead of on the roads, and waited until I watched him leave when one of his buddies picked him up. I waited for a while to make sure he was gone for good and then I broke into the house, packed up my shit in a bag, grabbed my cash, and left without looking back. When I finally made it to the bus station, I asked the lady where the first bus was going and she told me Texas."

Spreading her hands wide in front of her, she continued, "So here I am. When I got here fifteen years ago, a homeless guy told me about a shelter I could sleep in; that's where I headed. A social worker came in a few days after I'd shown up at the shelter, took one look at my bruises and decided to be my guardian angel. She was an older woman who'd apparently lost her daughter due to domestic violence. After that, she made it her life's mission to help out women running from that kind of violence. She moved me into her home, had someone change my name so Daddy couldn't find me, and helped me get on my feet."

Clearing the knot from my throat, I asked, "Where is this woman now?"

"Miss Reba died ten years ago from cancer. She lived long enough to help me through some seriously rough shit and saw me get my college degree before she finally passed. One of the best people I've ever met in my life."

A stranger had been there for Belle when I'd abandoned her. What would have happened had Miss Reba not taken Belle in? Would her father have caught up with her? Would she have survived the kind of creeps that sometimes frequented places like shelters to target those weaker than them? It was a fucking miracle she'd made it out of all of that alive. Alive and alone because I'd left her when she needed me the most. There was at least one thing I could tell her that might make it better.

"Did you hear from your dad after you left Georgia?" She shook her head. "The cops never came after you?" She shook her head again. "Have you bothered to check on your father's whereabouts since then?" She shook her head a third time.

"Then I can tell you that you don't have to worry about it anymore. Your dad died seven years ago. He was driving home drunk and wrapped himself around a tree. They didn't find the wreck or his body for at least a week after it happened and my parents told me the Medical Examiner was quoted in the papers as saying he'd bled to death from his injuries. My parents sat outside of the cemetery waiting to see if you showed up so they could be there for you."

Her eyes widened, her fingers gripped the edge of her table, and she sat there in shock for a few minutes. After staring sightlessly at the table, she whispered, "He can't hurt me anymore."

I knew she wasn't necessarily talking to me, but I whispered back anyway, "No, baby, he can't hurt you anymore."

She looked back up at me, nodded her head, then picked up her sandwich and took a bite. We sat quietly eating the rest of our food, paid for our meals, and then headed back to the hotel. I knew why she was speechless. I'd dropped the mother-load of an emotional bomb on her and she needed time to absorb all of that. I could give her time for that. It was when she was trying to push me away and shut me out that I refused to give in.

As Belle stopped the truck at the front entrance, she turned in her seat to face me. "Lunch was nice, Ace. Thanks for the talk, as well as the apology. There's something else we need to talk about real soon, but after hearing about my dad, I need some time to myself today. Before I go, though, I've got to be honest with you. I've got someone in my life that makes it impossible for us to patch things up. I'm sorry. We can move on to being friends, though—if you want—when all of this is over."

I hung my head as a wave of pain ripped through my chest. Friends? She wanted to be fucking friends? All because she had a man in her life? Where was this someone in her life yesterday morning when I'd been so deep inside her that I wasn't sure where she begun and I ended? I'd be damned if I was going to let her ignore what we had and try to categorize me as a friend. Without thinking, I reached over to snag the back of her neck, bringing her closer to me. Before Belle could protest, I slammed my lips down onto hers, kissing her senseless.

She gasped in surprise and I took the opportunity to thrust my tongue into her mouth. I put all of my love, frustration, pain and desire into our kiss. Sliding my tongue against hers, causing her to moan at the touch. My brain felt fried as a burning sensation traveled through my entire body at the simple touch. Sparks ignited behind my eyelids and I knew, without a doubt, that no one had, or ever would, feel like this to me again. Belle's hands fisted the fabric of my shirt. When my head was swimming from lack of oxygen, I finally pulled back enough to break our kiss. Foreheads still touching, lips hovering over hers, breath sawing harshly in and out of my chest.

"Friends don't kiss like that, baby. You can't tell me this is something you really want to walk away from. No man will ever love you like I do."

She was silent for a second, but when her voice came out, it was hoarse with a slightly choked sound. "You can't know that, Ace. Someone may come along for you in time and, whoever it is, she'll make you happy. You'll move on."

Shaking my head in denial, I rasped, "No, Belle, you're wrong. No one will ever make me feel the way I do when I'm with you. I know this with the certainty that the sun will set today and rise again tomorrow. The kind of certainty when the moon rises and the stars blink in the sky that they'll all still look way too dim to me. They'll always look too dim because you are the brightest star in my life and without you, everything else seems cloudy. I only seem to see things clearly when you're around and I know all of that because you are my soul."

Not giving Belle time to make another reply, I hopped out of the passenger side, slamming the door before stalking towards the hotel. Looking back over my shoulder, I watched her rev up the truck and shoot out of the parking lot like hell was hot on her heels. A throat cleared in front of me. Turning to face the sound, I found Agent Boyd watching me closely.

"That was some kiss there, Baker. You guys patch things up?"

I hung my head at the fresh onslaught of pain threatening to tear what was left of my heart and soul into pieces. "No, we didn't. She says it's time for me to move on and there's a man in her life that makes it impossible for us to try."

Boyd's eyebrows shot to his hairline seconds before his look of surprise turned into a look of anger, complete with a face flushed so red I was tempted to check his blood pressure. He scoffed, "A man, huh? I tell you what, Baker. You want to know what's keeping Annabelle from you?"

My body coiled tight. I barely resisted the urge to grab Boyd and shake him silly while demanding answers to all of his questions. "Hell, yeah, I do. What do you know that I don't, Boyd?"

"Be sure, Baker. I mean it. Be damn sure about this because once you know, you can't go back."

"What the fuck, Boyd? Yes! I want to know." Pounding a fist on my chest, I declared, "Belle means everything to me. The damn woman is too stubborn to give me another chance."

"Alright. You got anybody on this little team of yours that you're close to? Anyone who's a good friend?"

"We're all like brothers, so, yeah. Why?" I was doing my damnedest to figure out where the hell Boyd was going with all of this.

"Look," Boyd ran his hand through his hair in agitation, "just grab someone you trust to have your back and meet me here at seven-thirty. You've got to follow me. Don't ask any questions until we get to our destination, okay?"

I looked at Belle's partner like he'd lost his damn mind. That was like asking a soldier to go into a mission with a blindfold on. A sense of unease skirted down my spine, but no matter the strong sense of unease, hope sprang deep inside of me. "This will explain why Belle's holding back on me?"

Boyd nodded. "Yeah. That and a lot more. Meet me at seven-thirty and, whatever you do, don't tell Belle about this if you talk to her. She'd kick your ass. Then, she'd kick mine. My wife doesn't like it when Belle kicks my ass, either, because she leaves bruises, literally."

He stormed out of the hotel lobby before I could ask any more questions. Whatever. Boyd had promised an in to Belle's unwillingness to fix what was between us. I would take all the help I could get. Even if the small voice in the back of my head told me this was going to end badly.
Chapter

9

Bobby

Had a day ever passed by so excruciatingly slow before? Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I ran my hand through my hair for possibly the hundredth time, cursing the clock for not moving faster.

"Hey, man, chill out. You're going to make me nervous, watching you pace around this lobby like a tiger trapped in a cage."

Looking back at Declan I was about to pop off a smart-ass comment, but before I could open my mouth to say anything, a car horn honked from out front. Boyd was sitting in front of the hotel in his Jeep. Walking out the front doors with Declan, Boyd rolled his window down at our approach.

"Get in your SUV and follow me." With that short command, he rolled his window back up and waited for us to comply.

We drove in the opposite direction of San Antonio; heading further into the small town of Poteet, Texas that Belle now called home. After what felt like forever, Boyd finally led us to a place I certainly hadn't expected to stop. A high school. Parking in the back of a packed out lot, we exited our vehicle to meet with Boyd.

He seemed on edge as he walked up to me. "Tonight's the high school's homecoming football game. Belle is here. It should be about half time now. I'm going to walk you to the far end of the bleachers, then we'll make our way towards where she is. I'm going to tell you now, man, don't let this get ugly. Belle is already going to kick my ass for bringing you here, so do not make it any worse for me than it already is. No matter what you see, be cool."

After that eyebrow raising statement, Boyd turned around and started walking towards the stadium. Declan and I exchanged dubious expressions before following him. I didn't think much on why Belle would be at a high school football game because Belle had always loved to watch football. She preferred the local games over watching the professional ones on television. Stuffing her face with hot dogs and dancing to the marching band were some of her favorite things to do. The only suspicious thing going on was Boyd's comments so far. Maybe whoever Belle's 'man' was, presumably the mysterious Seth, would be here with her. Maybe he worked for the high school.

If Boyd didn't want me to react to having to face the man who was keeping the love of my life from coming back to me, then Boyd had another thing coming. I wouldn't start a fight or anything. No, but I would do my damnedest to show the guy Belle couldn't keep her eyes off me. Do whatever I could to prove I still affected her in all the ways that mattered. That would sting for any guy's ego.

As Boyd had promised, the game was in half time. The marching band was on the field, playing loud tunes with the crowd hooting and hollering their approval. Boyd led us to the far end of the field on the home team side. Staying close to the front of the bleachers that were over-flowing with locals, we slowly started to make our way towards the center.

I was scanning the crowd, looking for Belle, when Boyd suddenly stopped in front of me. Looking over his shoulder, I saw her standing next to the coaches in a huddle with the football team. Confused, yet intrigued as to why she would be out there, I stood as still as a statue, watching her talk to the coaches and players before the huddle broke apart. Was this 'Seth' one of the coaches? Maybe the tall, blonde-haired wimp wearing the baggy polo? A snort of disbelief escaped me. No way was Belle going to pass over me for that loser. My sudden desire to beat the guy to a bloody pulp didn't mean I was jealous, either. Not at all.

Okay, maybe I was a little jealous.

Walking over to the end of the bench where the players sat, Belle leaned against the fence, propping her elbows up on either side of her. I was about to ask Boyd what this was all about when a player broke away from a group and jogged over in her direction. As the boy stopped right in front of her, I felt all the air seize in my chest.

Breathing suddenly seemed impossible.

He stood about three inches taller than Belle, making him about five-nine. His chestnut brown hair was cut almost military short, but liberally covered in bright blonde, natural highlights. His build was leanly muscled and sported a tan much deeper than Belle's creamy pale skin. The kid looked around as if he was searching for someone when his head turned in my direction and I instantly knew. If his build or hair hadn't been enough to tip me off, then his face sure as shit did. The boy was practically the spitting image of me, except for his mother's moss green eyes.

Behind me, Declan swore loudly, "Holy shit. Tell me I'm not seeing what the fuck I think I'm seeing, man."

My heart started to pound so hard I could actually hear the blood whooshing in my ears. Unable to move my feet, I watched as Belle and the boy turned in the opposite direction of where I stood to watch Sheriff Jenkins approach them. Jenkins reached the pair, leaning over the fence to give Belle a hug and a kiss on her forehead before reaching out to playfully slap the kid on his back. They stood there, talking and laughing, as my feet finally found motivation and started moving forward on automatic pilot like a robot.

I was vaguely aware of Boyd grabbing my arm to stop me. Declan was saying something behind me. None of it really registered. I was suffering from tunnel vision and all I saw were the three people I was quickly baring down on, acting like some perfect little family the caveman in me knew should be mine. Wasn't that a funny concept since I hadn't even known I'd had a family to begin with? Something in me was trying very hard to see through the haze of anger threatening to overwhelm me so I could sort the facts and information that was being thrown at me like a freight train going off its tracks. It was chaotic, horrifying to watch, and when it all finally hit me, it was going to crush me to an emotional death.

Before I could get very far, Sheriff Jenkins looked up and saw me. His face paled before lines of tension formed around his lips as they became a disapproving frown. Dropping a hand on Belle's shoulder, he nodded his head in my direction. She spun around to face me as Boyd finally hauled me to a stop with the help of Declan grabbing my other arm.

Her face flashed shock seconds before she noticed Boyd standing somewhere behind me. A split second later, she transformed into the familiar spit-fire I'd known all too well, years ago in high school. She rushed out of the small gate a few feet away from her, stalking towards us. The Sheriff was hot on her heels, as he apparently saw disaster in the making. I couldn't remember feeling more stunned, or lividly pissed, in my entire life. I braced myself for the anger that was so obvious on her face, but frankly didn't give a fuck what she thought she had a right to be mad over. Whatever she was feeling was nothing compared to the raw rage I had coursing through my body. The woman I'd been pining over for years had kept my own goddamned son from me!

The moment she got within feet of me, she pointed her finger at my chest. "You need to leave, Bobby. Now is not the time or place for this and it sure as hell isn't how I intended to tell you."

Brushing past me, she stomped right up to Boyd before Sheriff Jenkins could catch her. "And you! You son of a bitch! You had no right!" Her fist pulled back and, before anyone could stop her, she punched Boyd square in the face. A loud crack ripped through the air as Boyd fell backwards to the ground, clutching his nose. Blood poured between his fingers and down his chin. The Sheriff now had Belle restrained with both of her arms pulled firmly behind her back so she couldn't do anything else. "Dammit, Boyd, you had no right!"

Declan's hand was still clutching my arm firmly. As if he was afraid I might flip my shit on someone. Staring coldly at Belle's furious face, the kid in question ran up to grab her arm, hauling her backwards.

"Mom! MOM! What are you doing? Come on, you know what coach said. If you get in anymore fights they're going to ban you for the rest of the season. You promised not to get in any more fights. What's going on here?" He was shaking Belle gently to get her attention.

Suddenly panicked, Belle started to push the boy backwards towards his team. "Seth, go back to the bench, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene. I swear, but I need you to go back to the bench now."

Seth planted his feet, effectively stopping Belle from pushing him any further. Giving her a stern look, he stood there, waiting for an explanation.

"Not now, Seth! Later, I promise. Go back to your game. We'll talk about this later. Tell Coach I'm sorry and I promise to behave." Giving him a push she yelled, "GO!"

Seth started walking backwards, warily watching his mother, before glancing at the rest of the group with confused eyes. Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to his team, who had subsequently been staring at the whole scenario that was taking place. Belle turned back to face me, tears now streaming out of her eyes. Sheriff Jenkins was still at her back, looking at me with a steely expression on his face.

"I'm asking you to leave, Bobby." More tears fell, her lip began to tremble and she pleaded, "Please."

My voice came out low and rough, "How old is he, Belle?"

"I'm begging you, Bobby. Please don't do this here. Leave now, we can talk about—"

"HOW OLD IS HE, BELLE?" I bellowed.

The rise and fall of her chest was rapid now. It was apparent to anyone who looked at her that she was trying desperately to keep herself together emotionally. That would have been something that tore me to pieces before, the thought of hurting her like that, seeing her that way. Now, I couldn't scrape enough heart to care if her web of secrets and lies had finally caught her. She should have thought about that crap before intentionally keeping my son away from me. At this point, she would be lucky if I didn't wrap my hands around her throat and squeezed. Without answering me, she twisted her body to face Sheriff Jenkins.

"Charlie, will you look at Boyd's nose for me? I need to go have a talk with Bobby."

Jenkins obviously didn't like that request. He speared me with a look that promised retribution if I did anything he might consider out of line and then reached over to grab Boyd, helping him off the ground. Belle stepped forward, grabbed my hand tightly in hers, and started pulling me back towards the far end of the field.

There was a time when I would have done anything, absolutely anything, to have her grab my hand again. Crawl on my hands and knees over broken glass. Beg. Sacrifice a limb. Sell my soul to the devil. Whatever it would have taken to feel her smaller hand gripping mine with the kind of strong, desperate hold she had on it now. No more.

Wrenching my hand out of hers, I caused her to stumble sideways in shock from my violent reaction. I walked past her as something inside me died. I didn't want her holding my hand. Right now, I didn't even want her breathing my fucking air. I only wanted two things from her right now; an explanation and my son.

Declan broke off from us to sit on the end of the bleachers as I led Belle to a patch of grass behind one of the football goals. I stood there for a minute, staring down at her as my body shook with an assault of emotions, refusing to take my eyes off her for even a second. Afraid that if I did, she might disappear on me again. Or I might miss a clue to whatever might tell me what was going through that twisted head of hers.

The crowds around us cheered as the football teams took the field to start the third quarter, totally oblivious that my world was crashing down around me. Never before had I been tempted to raise a hand in violence towards a woman, but right now, I was fighting back the urge to reach out, grab her shoulders and shake the shit out of her until she gave me what I needed. Words. A sincere apology. Her heart and a big shiny knife for me to stab it with on a silver platter. Something to give me an indication she wasn't the heartless person my rage was starting to see her as.

Pointing a trembling finger at her I roared, "You, BITCH! You'd better start fucking talking, 'cause I swear to God, if what comes out of your mouth doesn't somehow make this understandable for me, I'm going to haul your ass into court and nail it to the goddamn wall!"

Belle looked up, avoiding eye contact with me and searched for Seth with her eyes. After finding him, her eyes filled with fresh tears as she crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive posture—shoulders hunched, curling in on herself, trembling from head to toe like she expected me to lash out at her physically as well as verbally.

Keeping her eyes on the game in front of her, she started to speak in a small voice, "He's fourteen. He was born May 30, 1997 in Austin, Texas."

A slightly disbelieving laugh slipped out of her before she continued. Wasn't that a giant ass joke, too? What did she have to be surprised about? Surprised her deceitfulness had caught up with her? Shouldn't I be the one making that kind of disillusioned laugh because I was the one who'd just found out I had a fourteen-year-old son who I'd never met?

"I told you what happened the day your momma gave me the letter where you broke up with me. I was coming over to beg them to let me live with them, 'cause you and I both know if my daddy had found me after what I'd done to him..." She shook her head, looking to be lost for words. "I was sporting a multitude of bruises from his drunken rage the night before, Bobby. He would have beat me half to death this time if I'd tried to go back and I couldn't take it anymore. The thing is, I didn't get a chance to ask your parents about staying before your momma handed me that letter."

She kept her eyes averted and shrugged her shoulders.

"After I read it, well, I couldn't bring myself to tell your parents what happened with my dad or ask for their help. You'd just got done telling me that you didn't want us anymore. Didn't want our forever. I knew I couldn't stay with your parents now and I damn well couldn't stay with my father anymore, so I left. I didn't realize I was pregnant until a couple of months after arriving here in Texas."

Numb. I was utterly numb. Running my hands unthinkingly through my hair, I heard my own voice waiver as I asked, "How could this have happened, Belle? I thought you were protected."

She dropped her head until her chin touched her chest. "Remember me being sick a little over a week before you left? Apparently, those antibiotics the doctor put me on canceled out the birth control I was taking."

I looked from her to the field where Seth—my son—was playing quarterback. Seth launched the ball down the field to where one of his teammates ran it for a touchdown. Belle's voice cut through the awe I was experiencing while watching what felt like a flashback from my high school days.

"He's just like you. Looks like you. Excels at everything he does, just like you did. The only things he got from me are my temper and green eyes. The boy blows up worse than fireworks on the Fourth of July. It's a heck of a thing to watch. He's been hell on wheels from the moment he took his first step." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, "He's the only reason I survived you leaving me. Seeing him every day, with your face, your nose, your... everything... Well, he made me feel like I still had a piece of you all this time. Just like you used to promise me I would."

Clenching my jaw against the pain I heard in her voice, I shook my head in denial. With what her home life had been like, it wasn't as big of a surprise to me as it should have been she'd felt like I'd thrown her away for good after that dumb ass letter. Still, it didn't change that what she'd done was wrong. It didn't stop the hurt that was burning deep into my body like a vat of emotional acid.

"You didn't have the right to do this to me." The voice inside my head screamed, she didn't have the right to do that to the love we'd shared, but I didn't let it out. Pointing a finger that was still trembling with my anger towards the football field, I told her, "You didn't have a right to do this to him. Did you hate me so much you would do something as despicable as keep us apart? Did it make you feel better to know you'd pulled the ultimate act of revenge by keeping me away from my own flesh and blood?" I roared.

Somewhere in my head, the sympathetic conscience my parents had raised me with told me that she'd had it hard on her own—I should give her a break—but my overwhelming anger voided those thoughts out. She'd kept my child from me. ME. One of the few people in our whole town who had watched over her, who'd protected her from the dangers at home. I'd been the one she'd given her virginity to, along with the first 'I love you' she'd spoken out loud to someone other than her dead mother and her best friend. How dare she keep my only child from knowing his father?

Because you were the one who left her when she needed you the most.

The fury pulsing through my veins made the urge I'd had earlier to wrap my large hands around her delicate throat as punishment, stronger. That way I could squeeze the life out of her as literally as she'd metaphorically done to me. The battered heart in my chest reminded me that I could never bring myself to actually hurt her. No matter how mad I got, I'd always love her. Or, at least, the girl she'd once been to me. Didn't that seem like a cruel fucking joke karma had played on me? Here I'd been pining away and looking for the girl I'd loved with every fiber of my being and, when I finally found her, it was to find out she'd hurt me worse than anyone could have ever done.

Declan and Riley had been right that first day I'd talked to her outside of our headquarters meeting room. My angel was gone. The woman she'd become was proving too hard to love. Whose fault was it she'd become this way? The mother who hadn't had the backbone to stand up to the man she'd essentially let kill her? The father who was supposed to love his daughter and instead treated her like something he'd found distasteful on the bottom of his boot? Or the boy who'd told her that love wasn't a fairytale, but something truly real? The boy who had then left her alone, unprotected and, apparently, pregnant. Goddamn, my own throat felt like it was being strangled by invisible hands of self-contempt.

"You should have told me, Belle," I finally ground out.

Running hands roughly through her hair she sighed in frustration. "So, I could spend the rest of our lives wondering if you'd stayed with me because you loved me or because I trapped you by being pregnant? Look, Bobby, I'm sorry." Her voice cracked as more tears started to slide down her cheeks. "Really, sorry. Sorrier than you'll ever know. This past week has made me realize I was wrong for keeping him from you, but look at all of this from where I am sitting. You didn't want me anymore and I was used to not being wanted." She turned her tear-laden face back towards me. The breath hitched violently in her chest as if she was incapable of taking a solid breath.

"Do you honestly think I would load you down with a woman you didn't want because you got me pregnant? Sure, I was mad at first. Determined Seth and I would make it on our own and we have. It's been hard at times, but we pulled through. Then, as time went on, the anger turned into regret. You don't think I didn't feel guilty anytime he asked why the other kids had a father around and he didn't? It's been rough on that boy, not having his daddy. I did my best to fill both roles, but it wasn't the same. Thing is, he's so strong he never complained. Always told me how lucky he was to have a mom that loved him as much as I do. Those times were the worst. What a hypocrite I was to stand there and let him hug me while saying that, right? The woman who was supposed to make all the right decisions in his life had made the biggest mistake of all. How was I supposed to go about fixing that? It took everything I had not to break down and call you or your momma; that way he could have y'all in his life, too."

Both of her hands buried into her hair, fisting the strands as she pleaded, "But there was a problem with that. I'd had to practically run for my life, Bobby! If my father had found me, there was no telling what he would have done to me. I had a son to think about! A child to protect from the monster who had made my life hell. Not to mention that I didn't know if he'd had those cops he'd been talking to that day press some kind of charges on me. What would Seth and I have done if my father had me charged with something ridiculous like attempted murder for attacking him with that whisky bottle?"

She was ranting almost hysterically now. "Then, I would think about that you had probably moved on with your life. Maybe met someone. Married. Had kids or whatever! My brain couldn't wrap around messing up your life. That train of thought would lead me to the reality that I wanted you to be happy wherever you were. How afraid I was that we might mess that up. So I stayed away."

Belle's voice was choked as she finally lost what was left of her control and dropped to her knees with body-racking sobs. Her hands dropping out of her hair so she could beat a fist against her heart. "I'm s-s-so sorry, B-Bobby."

Silence settled around the two of us as she kneeled there in the grass. Still numb and now unsure of what to do, I stood in front of her as she cried so hard I wondered if she would be physically sick. Some small part of me said I should hold her while she was like this; offer some kind of comfort, some forgiveness. Instead of offering any of those things, I stood there, watching an older version of the girl who'd once been my everything, try to force herself to stop crying. Trying to get her erratic breathing under control.

Unable to look at her any longer, my attention turned blindly to the game. Fourth quarter had started, I realized numbly. Seth's team had a solid lead by twenty-one points. Soon the game would be over. Everyone would leave to head home with their loved ones and I couldn't help thinking that Belle would leave with Seth. Taking him to a home I'd never been a part of, invited to, or even welcome at. It tore me up inside to realize all that I'd missed in their lives. The day Seth was born. His first steps. His first words. I'd missed my son's first everything.

Her small voice cut through my thoughts, "What do we do now, Bobby? I don't expect you to drop your life for a kid you've never known about. I'll do whatever it is you want me to, just please don't take my baby away from me."

My head was filled with a million things I couldn't possibly process at the moment. The only thought I could latch onto was that hell would freeze over before Belle kept me away from my son a minute more than was necessary.

With a voice sounding one octave above ice, I answered her, "You're not keeping me from him. That's my boy out there and I'll be damned if he won't know his father from here on out."

I watched the tears continue to stream down her face, although silently now, as she nodded her head in acceptance. "Okay, Bobby." She hesitated. "But can we hold off on telling him tonight? Maybe you can come by the house tomorrow so we can talk to him then? He's going to be exhausted by the time we finally get home."

I stood there, my heart hammering away in my chest. "I'll be there tomorrow morning. Text me your address so I can use the GPS to find you. And I swear, by all that's Holy, your ass better be at the house with my boy tomorrow. If I get there and find out that you've run off on me again, I will hunt you down to the ends of this earth and you will pay in ways you will never recover from. You get me?"

She nodded back woodenly.

Unable to look at her a moment longer, I turned my gaze back to the boys on the field. Contemplating how one person could feel so many different things at the same time? I was furious she'd kept the knowledge of Seth from me. I was suddenly terrified at the idea of being a father. A father to a teenage son no less. That period in a boy's life when they had more hormones than common sense.

If I weren't so disgusted with her, I could almost respect her for being so gung-ho about raising our boy alone, with no help except—presumably—for Miss Reba; one frail woman suffering from cancer. The thing was the two of them should have never been alone; they should have been with me. They were supposed to be my family and she had denied me of that.

Where would this lead us all now? Suddenly Seth was going to have a father in his life; one who hadn't been around all this time. Would he be mad at me because I hadn't been there for him? Or would he understand that I couldn't make up for the past, but I would always be a solid presence in his future?

The rustle of movement told me that Belle had stood up to wipe the grass from the legs of her jeans. "I'll text you the address, Bobby. We'll see you in the morning. I've got to get back to the team now, but you're more than welcome to finish watching the game. You might enjoy seeing how much Seth is just like you on the field." Without saying another word, she walked quietly away. Leaving me to my sullen solitude.

Minutes passed before a set of heavier footsteps walked up to me. I knew, without looking up, it was Declan.

"You okay, man?"

Eyes now glued to Seth on the field, I stood there considering the question. There was no easy way to answer it. "That's my boy out there, Declan. My son."

Declan considered him. "Yeah, I already guessed since he looks like a little Bobby mini-me. That's a pretty big bombshell to drop on a guy's lap. How're you handling it so far?"

Shaking my head, I looked up at the stars to consider how I wanted to voice the screaming thoughts in my head.

"How could she not tell me, Declan? How could she carry him in her body—under the heart she swore was mine—then give birth to our son, raise him, and never even let me know? What kind of fuckin' person does that?" I growled, my throat and eyes clogged with unshed tears.

A few silent minutes passed before Declan cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable. "Can I speak freely with you, man?" I nodded. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I can see why she would have. I don't agree with it, but I can see the misguided why of it. You told me you broke up with her, right? Well, I'm guessing she hated the thought of what you might say when she felt you didn't want her. She was young, scared, and not sure what to do. She did what her less than wise teenage brain felt was best at the time." At the cold look I shot him, he held up his hands to hold me off. "I'm not saying I agree with what she did, or that it was right, but I could damn sure understand why she did it, if I put myself in her shoes at the time. Is she going to let you be a part of his life now?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "I'm supposed to head over there tomorrow morning so we can talk to him." A million scenarios ran through my head on how that might go. For the first time in years, I was scared of an unknown situation. You could send me alone into a terrorist camp in Afghanistan and I wouldn't blink an eye at the mission, but having to face one fourteen-year-old boy had my stomach in knots. "Do you think he'll like me, Declan?"

Declan punched me in the arm. "Are you kidding me, man? Once he gets to know you, I'll bet he'll love the hell out of you. Congratulations, man! You've got a kid and you didn't even have to change a shitty diaper."

I barked a surprised laugh and then looked over at Declan. "Yeah, I've got a kid. Who would have thought I'd ever be a dad? Believe it or not, though, I would have given anything to change that shitty diaper. What kind of dad is this going to make me after I've missed so much in his life?"

Declan snorted. "Wait. You'll see. You're going to be the best dad because you won't take a minute with him for granted. More importantly, I'll be the awesome Uncle Declan. Can I teach him how to shoot a sniper rifle?"

I laughed at the idiot next to me while watching my son's team win the game. Belle was right, Seth looked a lot like me playing on the field and, even though I was still upset, the future suddenly looked a little brighter than it had in a long time. I couldn't wait to tell my parents. They were going to be ecstatic over Seth. Life might end up being pretty damn good after all, even if Belle was no longer where I'd originally pictured her in it. It was amazing how your heart could feel so full and yet shattered at the same time.
Chapter

10

Annabelle

My room was pitch-black when the shrill ring of the cell phone woke me. Since I'd left my curtains and blinds open to let the natural sunlight in during the day, I knew this meant it was still dark outside, too. Blindly reaching out, I patted around on the top of my nightstand until I found the monstrosity making that horrible noise, groaned when I saw it was only three o'clock in the morning, and flipped it open.

"Is somebody dying? If not, I might kill them for waking me..."

Boyd's baritone sounded like gravel, presumably since he had been woken up at an ungodly hour, too. "Yeah, 'cause waking you up is exactly what I want to do after you punched me in the nose last night. Get up, Annabelle. We've got to head in to Alamo Heights. The DEA called our Special Agent in Charge a few moments ago. They found several crates of assault rifles and hand guns at a bust they conducted. The SAC wants us up there five minutes ago. It looks like this could be related to the big hit we've been expecting."

I groaned. "Ah, shit. Okay, I'll be out of the house in fifteen minutes. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Meet me at the hotel. I'm calling Commander Wall next. See if a couple of the EX Ops guys can go with us so we have some additional input from them at the scene."

There was another reason to groan. The idea of seeing Bobby so soon after last night was torture. I'd rather have a hot branding iron poked in my eye.

"Got it. See you then."

Hanging up my cell, I pulled myself out of the bed, quickly dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, combat boots, a black t-shirt and my black ATF windbreaker, and then I headed to the bathroom to take care of personal concerns. Minutes later, with a fresh face, brushed teeth and my hair pulled back in a ponytail, I stopped in the kitchen to leave Seth a note as to where I was headed. Before walking out the door, I holstered my service weapon and my badge to my waist. With one last check of the house to make sure I had everything I needed and that all of the entrances to the house were locked and secure, I was gone.

A short drive later landed me at the front of the hotel where Commander Wall stood outside with Bobby, Declan and Arturo Chavez. I'd recently learned Arturo was the only non-military member of the group. Apparently, he was a former CIA agent. The men seemed to watch me warily as I hopped out of the truck to stride over to them. If it was my guess, I wasn't on anyone's friends list anymore after Bobby probably told them last night's revelation about Seth. With all four of them standing there, shooting looks that could kill at me, arms crossed over their chests and feet planted firmly on the ground, it kind of felt as if I was meeting the firing squad for my death sentence. Yikes.

"Morning, boys. I take it Boyd isn't here yet?"

Commander Wall shook his head.

"Alright. Well, did he tell any of you what's going on so far?"

Commander Wall responded with a gruff, "Affirmative."

"Good. I'm going to go sit back in my truck to wait 'til Boyd gets here so we can go. Y'all stand there and look pretty, okay?"

Not staying to give anyone the chance to yell at me, I turned around and headed back to the safety of my truck. I heard Declan choke on a laugh behind me before I reached the vehicle. After climbing back in, I shoved in my homemade CD loaded with my favorite songs and Miranda Lambert's Kerosene started pumping through the speakers. By the time Boyd pulled into the lot, the next song had already started. Moments later, Boyd showed up at my driver's side window and I turned the radio down so I could hear him clearly.

"Hey, Boyd, I'll follow you, okay?"

"That works. Look, before we leave, I want to say I'm sorry about last night."

Rolling my eyes at my partner's obvious discomfort, I cut him off before he started groveling. Although, in my opinion, he definitely deserved to grovel. "What's done is done, Boyd. You can't take it back or fix it, so let it go. From now on, you'll leave my business to me, alright? My life's screwed up enough without you trying to meddle in it with your bright ideas."

Boyd's face softened and it made me uncomfortable because it was the look of someone who felt sorry for me and wanted to make things better. I could appreciate the sentiment, but I didn't deserve better for what I'd done. I deserved exactly what I had, which was a hard life with little or no give in it. Someone like me wasn't meant to have some fairytale love story complete with a white knight in squeaky clean armor.

No, I was meant to have the heartbreak I'd been dealt as a sort of reminder that people born to run down, dirty, trailer parks weren't meant to love and be loved by people born to good, clean, upstanding families that wanted them. It tipped the karmic scales too much and, when you did that, well somebody was going to pay. The problem was, instead of accepting the lesson for what it was, I'd screwed up and tipped those scales even more by having Bobby's baby and never telling him about it. I figured last night's emotional bitch-slap was karma's way of paying me back again. I'd deserved everything I got and, really, the emotional hit was hard, but not as hard as the physical ones I'd been used to long ago. I'd been raised under the hard hand of a man who'd liked to mete out pain, and I was used to its lasting effects. Eventually, I would move on from this like I had from every other kick in the teeth life had given me.

The only problem I had to worry about now was whether Bobby was going to try and take my son from me. I may agree with the cosmic rule that people of my standards weren't entitled to a whole lot in life, but I'd be damned if anyone was going to take the one pure, good thing in it. I loved my boy. I'd worked damn hard to give him a better life than I'd been given. I think, for that alone, I deserved for the cosmic powers to be to leave me alone and let me keep Seth.

The movement of my partner's mouth as he started to say something brought me out of my thoughts. Not really wanting to hear one of his, 'I want to see you happy' lectures again, I cut him off. "I want to hit a coffee shop on the way out of town. Now, go tell those boys to load up with whoever they want to ride with and let's get this over with."

Boyd nodded his head in understanding before walking away to the four men several feet away on the other side of the truck. I started my truck as my front and back passenger doors opened. Bobby climbed into the front while Declan climbed into the back. Looked like awkward was going to be a constant companion this morning. Great.

After a quick run through the coffee shop drive-thru, we were on our way towards Alamo Heights on the northern outskirts of San Antonio. Nothing except loud, country music filled the strained silence. It was approximately an hour drive; we should arrive a little before five in the morning. When we were making our way through the San Antonio early morning traffic, I grabbed my cell phone, hitting the speed dial button that rang Charlie's number.

His sexy, morning rough voice filled the line. "Mornin', darlin'. It's a bit early for you, isn't it? Don't tell me you got arrested and you need me to bail you out of my jail. Better yet, tell me you had a naughty dream about me."

Laughing, I answered, "Thanks for the faith there, Charlie. Hell, no, I'm not sitting in your jail. I called because I need a favor from you today, if you're not working."

"Not working today. What's up?"

"I got called out this morning. I'm outside northern San Antonio as we speak. Might be gone a good part of the day. Not sure yet. Seth should see the note on the kitchen counter, letting him know, but I'd feel better if you could take him out today to keep him out of trouble."

Charlie chuckled. "That boy sure does have your sense of direction when it comes to trouble. Yeah, how about I pick him up and bring him back to the house. We can take the ATVs out on the trails today."

"Sounds perfect, Charlie. I owe you big time."

"Good. Then maybe you'll take it easy on us next time we play poker. I'm tired of you cleaning me out, woman." Clearing his throat he asked, "Hey, you okay after last night, darlin'?"

Glancing over at Bobby from the corner of my eye, I saw he was every bit aware of the conversation taking place. His jaw looked like it might snap in half if he clenched it any harder and his eyebrows were furrowed. "Don't worry about me, Charlie; I'm fine. Sure do appreciate you keeping an eye on Seth, though. I'll call one of you as soon as we're headed back."

"Anytime, darlin'. See you later." I flipped my phone closed before tucking it in my jacket pocket. With the way Bobby looked like he wanted to tear my truck apart piece by piece with his bare hands, I knew his inner Neanderthal was about to make an appearance. I started silently reinforcing my emotional walls for the inquisition I knew was about to take place.

"Belle, are you seeing Sheriff Jenkins?" he snapped.

Well, that had taken all of two seconds. If it weren't for the burning hatred I'd seen in his eyes last night, I would have thought a jealous, cave man Bobby would hit Charlie over the head with his club so he could drag me by my hair to his lair.

"No, Bobby, we're not seeing each other right now. Just to clear the rest of the air, have Charlie and I dated? Yes. He's also been a very good friend to me over the years. You're not entitled to know anything else, so let's do both of us a favor, and you not step on my toes about that, okay?"

Snorting, he lifted his coffee cup to drain the last of it. As he picked at the sides of the cup I could tell he wasn't done asking questions. If his bottom lip weren't poking out so far in his man-child pout, I would totally expect to look around and find myself in a small, dark room with no windows and a bright light shining in my face while he badgered me with his interrogation. I figured it was only a matter of seconds befo-

"Is Seth close to the Sheriff?"

Yep. There it was. I wondered if Declan felt awkward sitting in the back seat, having to listen to all of this. Peeking up in the rear view mirror, I saw Declan's face was turned towards the passenger side window in an attempt to give us a semblance of privacy, but I would bet my last dollar that he would be able to give a full accounting of the entire conversation later if asked to.

Heaving a big sigh, I clenched the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. "Let's get to the heart of what you're really asking me. Is Charlie a father figure? That's what you really want to know, right? The answer is no. No man has ever played a father figure to him. I have filled that role to the best of my ability. Now, has Seth had men who have been influential in his life? Yes. Charlie is one. Boyd is the other. They both have become quite close to Seth over the years, but neither has ever taken your place. Matter of fact, so you know, the two of them made it their mission in life to cuss me out for not telling you when they realized you were Seth's father. They are thoroughly in your corner, no matter how long I've been friends with them, which I find downright disgusting. But so you feel better, though, Seth's got a woman in his life he's very close to. Teagan. In fact, she's his godmother. She was even there the day he was born. Anything else sitting uncomfortable with you? Besides all of the obvious, that is?"

I used my right hand to smooth my hair back in frustration before letting it drop helplessly in my lap. I had the overwhelming urge to haul off and punch something. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that while on a case. Or while I was wearing my badge for that matter. That was the kind of shit that made my boss, Special Agent in Charge, Jeremy Evans, bust a vein in his large, shiny forehead. Not to mention, at my last required anger management class they told me punching things was bad. Unless it was a pillow.

Who wants to punch a pillow?

Bobby stayed quiet for a few minutes. As I was giving up hope of ever having a decent relationship with the father of my child, he spoke again. His voice was quiet, but clear.

"Teagan, huh? Somehow, I'm not surprised you two are still thick as thieves." He let loose a big sigh. "No more questions for now, Belle. Maybe later, though."

Declan's amused tone carried from the back seat. "Soooooo... Belle. Tell me another wonderful story about Bobby being young and stupid. I'm working up a collection from you for blackmail purposes."

Bobby tossed his empty, paper, coffee cup back at Declan's head.

"Up yours, Sullivan. Keep it up and I'll find a way to get Riley drunk enough to spill all of your secrets to me. Stop pumping her for information. I think she's more than proven she can't be trusted."

Ouch. There it was again. Another reminder that lowly, little me didn't belong in the breathing space of a good man like Bobby Baker and it was nobody's fault but my own as to why he would say that about me. As we pulled up to park behind Boyd, I looked around at the street that was filled with black SUVs, the yard was littered with what must have been at least thirty people in various uniforms.

Let the fun begin.

~~~

After hours of talking to the DEA agents on scene, Boyd and I were huddled with the four members of the Ex Ops team, comparing notes.

Boyd was antsy. He kept patting his pants pocket unconsciously, looking for a pack of cigarettes that hadn't been there for over a year. It was moments like this I wondered if he'd pick up his old habit. "So the DEA has been following a large heroin ring. They never expected for their heroin dealers to be in on the smuggling line for black market weapons. We've got ten crates of Colt 38s, AK-47s, M4s, M107 Barretts and FN Five Sevens. That's some serious cargo. I think it's more than likely a part of the big shipment we were warned about, but I doubt that's all of it."

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we found the three crates in Big Bull Bar. Plus these makes thirteen crates total. Still, I bet there's more to the shipment. The question now is, where are they hiding the rest of it? And what will they do now that part of their shipment has been confiscated?"

Commander Wall folded his arms across his chest. "Well, we can say it's a safe bet they'll be headed to the border soon. Too much has been compromised. The only other lead we've acquired is the Big Bull Bar. Even though we've had round the clock surveillance, we've seen no further activity. However, I still feel like there's something more going on there. We'll continue surveillance. See what they do next. Can you two get in touch with your contact? See if there are any new developments? Maybe we'll have something helpful there."

Boyd looked back to the huge house covered in crime scene tape. "We've got everything the DEA can give us for now. They promised to send copies of their files on this case over to us right away. Let's head back to Poteet and I'll see about getting in touch with our contact in Mexico."

~~~

Heading back to the small town of Poteet, the truck was silent. When we were halfway home, Declan yawned loudly.

"Somebody say something before I fall asleep back here."

"You're an ass. There, something's been said," Bobby muttered.

I laughed as Declan attempted to smack the back of Bobby's head in retaliation. As I maneuvered my massive truck in and out of traffic, Declan leaned forward until he was practically sitting in the middle of Bobby and me in the front seat.

"Come on, Annabelle. Entertain me here. Better yet, tell me another story for my blackmail book."

Declan quickly ducked backwards in his seat when Bobby tried to hit him.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Come on, woman! I'm bored as shit back here."

Bobby was studiously ignoring both of us by looking out of his passenger side window. What could it hurt? It wasn't as if Bobby could hate me anymore than he already did. Maybe hearing some of the good times would remind him that it hadn't always been bad between us. I could use all the help I could get when it came to hopefully having a working relationship with the father of my only child.

"Ok, Declan, you'll appreciate this one. See, when Bobby joined our high school football team he had to go through an initiation; a hazing of sorts. What small town would be complete if they didn't continue crazy rituals that would give all the gossipy, old, married ladies something to talk about all year long? Anyways, all the seniors wrote embarrassing tasks to be completed, then threw them in a hat to be drawn out by the freshman."

"Bobby here was lucky enough to have to go through our local grocery store in nothing except a hot pink thong. They made him go through the checkout counter, buy a box of condoms and he couldn't leave until he sang the school song at the register. All the while, the poor check out girl, who was sixteen, stood there staring at him with a river of drool coming out of the side of her mouth because, even at fifteen, Bobby looked and was built like a Chippendale stripper."

Declan was roaring with laughter in the back seat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bobby's cheeks turn pink as he blushed.

"But don't feel too bad for Bobby. My best friend Teagan had it much worse. You see she was the team's punter and the only girl in the whole state of Georgia on a high school football team. Her initiation task was to streak through the school grounds while school was being dismissed. None of the guys thought she would do it and that it would be the quickest way to get a girl off of their championship winning team, but they underestimated Teagan; like most people did. The entire school got to see her naked itty bits and I drove the getaway car she dove in when she was done streaking around the school. Lord, she couldn't get any of the guys at school to stop hitting on her after that, no matter how many times she kicked them in the nuts."

Declan was laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks and he struggled to breathe. He promised through the entire tirade to spread that story to everyone they knew between his choking gasps for breath.

I glanced over to see Bobby watching me. "What?"

Shaking his head he mumbled, "For a minute there, I got a glimpse of the girl I used to know. Too bad that girl grew up into a deceitful woman without a heart."
Chapter

11

Bobby

Pulling up to the small, yet friendly, looking ranch home, I wasn't sure who was more nervous, me or Belle. She hadn't spoken another word to me since I'd told her, when we pulled up at the hotel, that she was taking me to Seth and Declan had exited the truck when she said okay. She called Sheriff Jenkins and asked him to bring Seth home in twenty minutes. After disconnecting the call, she promptly turned her radio on so loud we couldn't have said a word to each other over the music if we'd wanted to.

Perhaps my comment on the way back to Poteet about the kind of cold, deceitful woman I'd felt she'd become had been harsh, but it was exactly how I felt. Being the straight shooter that I was, even back when I was a teenager, she should know I wasn't one to pull my punches; physical or verbal. There'd never been a reason to be that way with her before. Now there was.

The outside of the house was painted a bright, sunny yellow with white shutters on the windows. It was the same colors as the fantasy dream house we'd built together in our minds a hundred times during the two years we'd been together. We walked up the stained porch steps and stood in front of the red door she'd always wanted, using her key to unlock the deadbolt.

"Yellow house, huh?"

"Just because you gave up on our dreams didn't mean I had to, Bobby. I wanted a yellow house, so when I could afford one, I bought me and my son a yellow house."

Guess I wasn't the only one who wasn't pulling their verbal punches anymore.

Pushing the door open, she stepped aside and waved a hand, inviting me in. Walking through the doorway and past her, I stopped in a small entryway that connected to the living room. It was filled with the family essentials of a couch and a loveseat covered in chocolate brown leather and an oversized entertainment center, sporting a large screen television. It was an open floor plan, the living room flowed into the kitchen and dining area, which were only separated by a long breakfast bar, equipped with four barstools. The walls were painted almost the exact same color of yellow as the outside of the house and a dark beige carpet ran from the living room down the hall to where the bedrooms probably were. The small entry way, kitchen and dining area floors were covered in a dark beige ceramic tile that matched the carpet's color.

I didn't miss the little touches that made the house more of a home for its two occupants. Candid photographs of Belle, Seth and even Teagan hung on the walls in ornate picture frames. There was a blanket draped over the back of the couch and matching throw pillows on the furniture, all in burnt orange and white colors with the Texas Longhorns symbol on them. It was then I noticed the dining room chair cushions were also burnt orange and there was a ceramic pitcher and cookie jar decorated in Longhorn symbols. It appeared she was still a big football fan, but her choice of team was surprising to me. After all, we'd grown up in Georgia where, like Texas, football was a religion, but we had worshiped at the stadium stands of the Bulldogs. Everyone we knew still back home would consider this blasphemy.

Looking over my shoulder to see Belle watching me with an unreadable mask in place, I said, "The Longhorns? Seriously?"

The front door opened behind her and Seth walked in, answering me without missing a beat as he closed the door behind himself. "Why wouldn't Mom root for the Longhorns? It's our team." Coming to a stop beside his mother, I watched as my son braced his feet shoulder width apart, crossed his arms over his chest, and then gave me the once over. Christ, he was just like me.

Turning around to face them both, I told him, "There was a time when your mom was a die-hard Georgia Bulldogs fan, that's why."

Seth shrugged his shoulders. "Mom hasn't lived in Georgia since before I was born. I'm sure, after she moved here, she realized the Longhorns were a superior team compared to the Bulldogs, but you're not here to talk football, are you?"

Was the kid fourteen or forty? Because, at the moment, he sure wasn't acting like a damn teenager. No, he was acting like a grown man, trying to protect the little woman of the house. Only there wasn't a little woman that needed to be protected. Belle could damn well take care of herself. She'd already proven that with all of her actions so far. If I weren't so pissed at her right now, I'd be amused by this whole big man act my son was trying to put on for me. Problem was, I was angry, so it was not really amusing at the moment.

Belle put a visibly trembling hand on Seth's shoulder and then looked to me, nodding towards the living room. Her voice wavered for a second when she said, "How about the three of us go sit down so we can talk?"

Mother and son settled down on the loveseat, leaving me to sit by myself on the larger couch. How fitting that even where I sat on the living room furniture brought home how much I felt like an outsider to the two people I should never feel that way with. Looking to Belle for guidance on how they should proceed, I was greeted with that mask of hers again, instead of help. It was such a blank look I would have thought she was impersonating a robot if it weren't for the way she was fisting her hands in her lap. She was clenching them so hard the fingertips were a bloodless white. So she wasn't as unaffected as she was trying to pretend to be.

Clearing my throat, I looked to Seth and started. "We should start with introductions." Rubbing my nervous hands over the tops of my thighs, I wondered how one went about telling another human being they were their father without sounding like some bad Darth Vader impersonation.

"Seth, my name i-"

"I know who you are."

Did he just say what I think he said? Maybe I had a wax build up going on in my ear. Sticking a finger in both ears, wiggling them around to make sure there were no blockages, I took my fingers out and sputtered, "I'm sorry, did you say you know who I am?"

The boy's face was just as blank as his mother's; however, I couldn't find any outward signs of emotion from him like I had with Belle and her hands, which wasn't helping me figure out if this conversation was going well, or if it was the beginnings of an emotional clusterfuck.

"Yes, sir."

Well, slap me silly and call me a monkey shit target. What exactly did my son think he knew about me? Had his mother filled his head with lies? I didn't want to think Belle would do that to me, but as of right now, I didn't know what to think of the former love of my life. Why did the idea of labeling her former bother me so badly, too? Ignoring the urge to shoot Belle an icy glare, I kept my eyes on Seth.

"What exactly do you think you know about me?"

"I know your name is Bobby Baker. You're from a small town in Georgia, named Sylvania, where you grew up with my mom. She told me you made good grades in school, played on a championship football team, and then left for the Army after you graduated top of your class."

Seth stopped talking to stare at me for a few moments. I tried to sit there and stay calm under his scrutiny, but the sweat slicking my palms was a big, fat indicator I was anything but calm. Was that it? Had his mother told him anything else? Like that I was her first boyfriend? Had she told him how we'd spent every spare minute together for two years? That I was the one she'd run to after her father would come home drunk and mean? That it had taken me over six months to convince her that she was safe with me? Had the mother of my son told him I was a bastard for leaving her? That I couldn't be trusted to keep my promises or be counted on?

Had she told our son I'd broken her heart and left her unknowingly pregnant and alone?

I couldn't take the wait anymore. I needed to know if my son knew who I really was. Did he know I was his father? Opening my mouth to broach the subject again, he stopped me by standing up abruptly.

"Stay here, please. I'll be right back. I need to get something out of my room."

Just like that, Seth strolled out of the living room and down the hall as if he hadn't left a billion pound elephant sitting in the room with his absence. At least he'd used the word please, though. It meant Belle had done a good job instilling some manners into our child. Still floating in a state of confusion, I moved my gaze from the spot where my son's back had disappeared down the hall to his mother. She looked cool as a cucumber, which frankly pissed me off a little bit more than I already had been. Where was all the remorse she'd had at the football field? Did she think that now that I'd met our son in the flesh the slate was wiped clean and she no longer owed me my pound of flesh in retribution?

If that's what she thought, she was superbly, fucking mistaken.

Or at least, she'd looked totally unaffected until I looked back down to her hands to see they were still tightly clasped together. So much so that a small drop of blood was leaking out from under one of her nails where it had broken the skin of the palm of her hand. I heard her give a small sniffle as I stared at the drop of blood and it reminded me that she'd learned growing up to at least give the appearance of locking her emotions down. That piece of shit father of hers had taught her the hard way he wouldn't listen to a little girl's cry, so she'd become the master at hiding how she felt, no matter what. Perhaps habits like those were hard to break.

Seth came back into the room holding what looked like a small photo album and a picture frame in his hands. Sitting back down on the couch, next to his mother, close enough his leg brushed against her own, he dropped the album in his lap, but extended the frame out to me. I didn't know where this was all headed, but the hair on my arms stood up and I had the sense of foreboding wash over me. Whatever this was, it was going to be huge; possibly life changing.

That thought should have seemed ridiculous since I was already in the middle of a life changing moment—the first point in time where I met my son—which should have been when he was born. Instead, it was in this moment when he was already fourteen, sitting in a living room that was not in my family home, and handing me an unfamiliar picture frame I somehow knew was about to flip my world on its axis.

I held out my hand, letting my boy place the frame in it, and when I tilted the picture up to see what it was, the breath choked in my throat. It was a picture of me as a senior in my high school football uniform, running off the field with my teammates. I was headed, not towards my coach or my parents, but directly towards the person snapping the picture of me on their camera. I was running straight for Belle. A huge smile on my face, my eyes lit up with something I hadn't seen in the mirror for too many years to admit, and happier than I'd ever been.

We'd won the championship game and, the moment Belle had taken that picture, I remember thinking it was the best day of my life. I knew I was running off the field towards my girl. We were headed to Trent Bazemore's house to party, where we were going to drink beer out of the kegs his older brother had scored for us, horse around on our four-wheelers in the unused fields behind his house, and I'd be ending the night loving Belle in the bed of my truck. At the time, I didn't think life could get any better than that.

Now that day seemed like a pale comparison to sitting here with the man-child who was the spitting image of me because—although this moment was bittersweet and wrought with resentment—sitting here with Seth like this now was the best moment of my life. Moving my eyes from the picture back to my boy, I remembered to breathe again as he said, "And you're my dad."

Annabelle

If there was ever a moment in my life I thought Bobby Baker was in danger of passing out like one of those overpriced, tacky, prom queens from our hometown, it was right now with dots of sweat on his forehead and a slightly paler complexion. Far be it for me, though, to point out that he needed to take a big ass breath and get it together. With the way he was staring at our son, he'd apparently somehow forgotten I was in the room with them. Hell, he might have forgotten I was in the same galaxy. I certainly didn't want to ruin their first father-son moment, either. So, I stayed perfectly still and watched my little boy, who wasn't so damn little anymore, tell the man who I'd once loved with all of my heart, that he knew Bobby was his father. Then, I watched in a combination of half-fascination, half-trepidation as Bobby finally remembered that breathing was good and his chest slowly rose and fell in a deep, relieved breath. I watched all of that while trying desperately not to burst into tears, or have a dag-gum heart attack, because at any second the proverbial shoe was going to drop and things were going to go to hell in a hand basket.

My relief lasted approximately seven seconds before it morphed right into confusion. "You know who I am."

"Yes, sir, I do."

"How long have you known who I am?"

"My whole life. That picture has been in my room for as long as I can remember."

"I don't understand. If you knew my name, who I was, then why didn't you ever look for me? Didn't you want to meet me? Get to know me?"

I closed my eyes to hide their watery state. The blow up was coming. Oh, boy. We'd hit landmine territory. It was going to suck to pick up those metaphorical pieces after everyone had been blown to teeny, tiny, bloody bits.

"One day. Yes, sir."

Oh, I couldn't watch this. My lungs started to burn and I realized I'd been holding my breath without even realizing it. All I could concentrate on now was what was about to happen. The fuse was stuck into the bomb.

"What do you mean, one day? Why would you not want to get to know your own father?"

No, no, no. This was going to be so, so bad. I gripped my hands even harder to hide my trembling. I felt the sharp edges of my nails bite further into my skin. Now, the match was lit.

"That's hard to explain, sir. I do want to get to know you, I wasn't sure you would want to get to know me."

Here we go. I felt a sob starting to bubble up my throat, so I did what I'd done many times before, growing up to stop the sound, and used my teeth to bite down on my bottom lip. The match had touched to the fuse and now it's angry sparks were sizzling down to the finale.

"Why in the hell would you wonder that?

Two seconds till detonation.

No answer from Seth. My eyes squeezed tighter shut. One second to blast.

"Did your mother tell you that I wouldn't want you?"

The question was asked so quietly that I barely heard it, but there it was. Confirmation he would think the worst of me. Just another piece of evidence in the giant trial of my life that no one would ever think I was good enough for Bobby. Including Bobby himself.

Seth's temper exploded. "You hold on a second, mister! My mother's never said an unkind word about you. Ever. Maybe you should tell me why I should be so hot to get to know the guy who's managed to make my mom cry on and off for the last fifteen years after he left her?"

I couldn't make myself open my eyes. I should be stronger than this. A son should not see his mother being this weak. He should not see my shame in knowing he had heard all those nights I'd lost the fight to be strong, to close off my heart and had ended up losing my ever lovin' mind while sobbing like a silly little girl into my pillow. How ridiculous was I to think I'd ever hidden that from him?

"Do you have any idea how many nights I've laid in my bed and listened to her cry all night long? To hear her cry so hard she could barely breathe? How when I was little and didn't understand what was going on, I'd crawl out of my bed and into hers so I could hug her and make it all better? I can tell you this, little boys do not like it when the only person in their life is that broken and they don't know how to fix them! It's not any easier when she finally stops crying, either, because, now that I'm older, I go into her room every time, knowing I'll find her clutching the stupid letter you sent her. Her face will be all puffy and red and she looks like someone ripped her heart out; all because of you and that shitty letter."

The second to last word brought me out of my self-induced shell. My voice was choked when I snapped out, "Don't you start cussing, Seth Roberts Baker! What have I told you about that kind of shit?"

My visibly pissed off son swung his head around to look at me and project his unhappiness at the reprimand. "Really, Mom? Because 'Do as I say, not as I do' isn't one of the most ridiculous rules parents have tried to push off on their kids since the dawn of time? I love you, but get over it already."

"Let me get this straight." Bobby's voice was vibrating with fury. "You know who I am. You even carry my last name, but you're not sure if you want anything to do with me?"

My son turned back around to look his father straight in the eyes when he dead-panned back, "I don't know, Dad. You tell me. Do you want to get to know me? Or are you going to leave me behind, too?"

Bobby stood up and started stalking to the front door. What I wouldn't give for this all to be some really bad dream instead of the jacked up reality I was currently living in. It had all gone horribly wrong and it was all my fault, so I had to do something to fix it. "Wait, Bobby! Just wait!"

Rushing after him before he made it out of the door, I grabbed him by the arm to try and keep him from leaving. He jerked his arm out of my grasp and rounded on me like a pissed off lion. "How could you do this to me?" he roared, banging his fist against his chest, over his heart. "To the first person in your life besides fucking Teagan who cared for you! Who bent over backwards to show you that you deserved to love and be loved. First, you kept my son from me and now you've turned him against me! That's how you repay me? Repay the kindness my parents showed you and the two years we had together? Did you get your goddamn revenge? Are you fucking happy with yourself?"

His face was an ugly sneer I'd never seen from him before. Something that looked very similar to the memories of what my father had looked like as he'd taken out his anger and frustration on me. The kind of face that would probably haunt my nightmares for years to come. His hand swung up in my direction so he could point a finger in my face and I flinched backwards as if he might hit me.

The logical part of me knew deep down Bobby would never hit me, never hurt me that way. The damaged little girl stuck inside a grown woman's body didn't know that, though. She'd shoved logic out of the way in the name of self-preservation because all she could see was that, once again, someone we loved was furious with us. Someone who was bigger than us and could cause more damage—both mentally and physically—than we might be able to survive, which meant we should duck for cover. Do what we had to do to deflect the blows to our body and soul so we could get up to face another day when it was done. How I hated the weakness in that damaged little girl. The weakness in me that I would feel the need to cower backwards instead of stand and fight. That flinch was something I hadn't done in years because; once I'd left Georgia, I'd left behind anyone and everyone who could hurt me. Given myself the false security that I was stronger. Now, when glaring reality was in front of me, I knew there was still someone out there that could hurt me and those defenses I'd built for myself were crumbled before him.

Bobby saw the flinch. The finger he'd had held up, pointing at me, dropped to his side and reformed as a clenched fist, which only made my body involuntarily tense for the possibility of a strike. His mouth opened, he paused, and then his mouth closed again as he shook his head. "I need to leave. I need to go and calm the fuck down because all I can think about right now is you're the biggest bitch I've ever known and I wish I'd never met you."

Slowly backing away from the enraged man in front of me, I stupidly couldn't help but wonder. Had someone just hit the play button on Bon Jovi's You Give Love A Bad Name? Because the pain radiating through my chest sure as shit felt like I'd been shot through the heart. It was such an acute agony I briefly wondered if one really could die from a broken heart. A particular affliction I'd been so sure I'd survived before seemed to mock me with the truth that my heartbreak had been put on hold all of these years; it was finally back to finish me off. Would I ever stop being a fool when it came to Bobby Baker?

The next thing I knew, there was an equally pissed fourteen-year-old man-child standing in front of me. Acting as a barrier between me and the source of my pain.

"Don't you take this out on her! Obviously you need to stick your fingers back in your ears and wiggle them around some more because you must not have heard me when I said this the first time. She's never said a bad word about you to me. I can make up my own mind! It wasn't hard to make it when I read that letter of hers. Or when I heard Mom and Aunt Teagan talking late one night. Going on and on about how shitty their life was growing up and how they're glad they're not living like that anymore. Who could blame them? Who would want to stay around a town that belittled them and did nothing to help them while they were getting beat on by their own fathers?"

"How can you blame her for wanting to run as fast and as far as she could from that place after you left her? I'm close enough to the age Mom was when she ran away. If I was put in her shoes, I would have done the same thing. Maybe it wasn't the right thing for her to do in the long run, but it was the right thing for her at the time."

Through the haze of pain, I managed to grasp onto one thought. God, I loved my boy. Even if he was wrong and yelling at his father when he shouldn't be, I couldn't help thinking I seriously loved my son right now. Defending me when I was the one who was at fault here. He wasn't done, though, because he kept on going.

"You know what else Mom talked to Aunt Teagan about that night? How she wasn't surprised you ended up not wanting her because she wasn't good enough for you and the whole town made sure to remind her of that often. Aunt Teagan tried to tell her she was wrong, but she wouldn't hear it. Well, you wanna know what I think? I think Aunt Teagan was right and you're not good enough for my mom!"

Losing the fight to hold myself up on my own, I slumped forward to lean my forehead on the back of my son's shoulder. Tears that were streaming down my face were caught by the soft cotton from Seth's shirt and there was a giant ass wet spot from where I was silently bawling like a baby. The magnitude of my mistakes were battering at me like a ten ton hammer. Beating me down until I couldn't help being amazed I wasn't a broken heap on the floor, but it wasn't over, because my son had one more nail to put in my proverbial coffin.

"And until you realize that you're just as much to blame for all of this as she is, then no, I don't want to get to know you. I don't want anything to do with you. And if you ever call MY MOTHER a bitch again, I'll show you how much of a man my mother raised me to be all on her own because I will knock you the hell out!"

The door slammed behind Bobby as he left.

Oh, God, what had I done?
Chapter

12

Bobby

"Baker in position."

Sometimes, going to work was a blessing. Keeping the mind occupied could be a very good thing. A soldier was taught, from the time he tied on his boots in basic training, that he had to be able to clear his mind of all distractions and concentrate on the mission. It didn't matter if the mission was cleaning the latrine or going in to enemy territory to neutralize a high value target. A distracted man was a dead man.

So here I was, lying on the ground, concealed in the dark of night and hidden in the shadows of the trees, behind the Big Bull Bar, using the scope on my rifle to watch the back entrance. Waiting for any kind of activity that would bring us one step closer to figuring out if the bar's manager, Henderson, and his partner were ready to move the guns to Mexico, or if they were waiting for more. With such a large portion of their shipment having been confiscated yesterday, they had to be getting antsy to move the rest of their order before it could be found.

One second I was alone, considering our target's possible courses of action, and the next I had a six-foot, two hundred and twenty pound body lying next to me.

"One of these days, I'm going to tie a bell around your neck, Commander, so I always know when your ass is coming. I'm getting tired of you sneaking up on me."

"You've been awfully moody since yesterday, Baker. Ready to talk about whatever it is that happened?"

"Nothing to talk about, Sir." Because every guy wanted to talk about how they spent the night deep in a bottle of Jack Daniels after having the mother of all blow outs with their practically grown son on what was supposed to be their getting to know you meet-and-greet. Over twenty-four hours later, Jaxon was lucky I was even fucking sober.

"That's it then? You're waving the white flag and giving up?"

"Can't give up what I never had, Jaxon."

"You're wrong. There are men that would kill for what you have."

"And what exactly is it you think I have? A woman that's betrayed me? A son that hates me for what I did to his mother?" Letting out a snort, I grumbled, "Yeah, there're guys lined up a mile long hoping to have all of that shit."

Jaxon nodded his head. "Keeping your son from you was wrong, but you were wrong, too. Whether you like it or not, every action has an equal and opposite reaction in this world. Basic science. Is it fair? No, but if you're one of those people that believe life is fair, then I'd have to inform you that you're sadly mistaken. You're ridiculously stupid if you can't realize what you have been given because it's something that people the world over would kill to have."

"What, Seth? Yeah, I know; I'm lucky to have a kid. Even if he does hate me right now."

"No, you moron. I'm talking about the other thing you were given. A second chance. That's what people the world over would kill for. Look at Riley. No matter what happened in the past, if he was gifted the second chance that's been given to you, he'd fight for it. You, on the other hand, are letting it slip through your fingers."

Jaxon disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared, but his words lingered. They managed to penetrate the fog of my anger, the scorching burn of my pain, and something inside of me knew he was right. Whether I wanted to admit it or not. If Riley's ex-wife, Kara, walked back into his life tomorrow, Riley would be on his knees begging her for another chance. Hell, he'd get down on his knees and gut himself for five minutes of her time; making the most of the opportunity given to him.

Deep down, I wanted the dream. White picket fence, two point five kids, and the little wife at home in the kitchen, cooking dinner with her service weapon still strapped to her waist. What living, breathing man wouldn't want that? I questioned my ability to work past the hurt and anger to be able to enjoy the dream.

Reality was a nightmare at the moment. My girl had stabbed me in the back to protect herself and my son was... well, he was acting like my son. Wasn't that a bit of an eye opener? Because, if anyone had tried to give my mom the 'what for' kind of talkin' to I'd given Belle yesterday, I would have done exactly what Seth had done. Defended her. Protected my family. It sucked giant ass donkey balls I was the one Seth was having to defend her from.

That left my mixed feelings for Belle. Underneath the swirling emotions of rage I had towards her for keeping this monumental secret from me, I was shocked to find I had an overwhelming sense of relief. Belle could never be rid of me now. Not completely, at least. I would always be a part of her life because I would be a part of Seth's life.

If I could get past my anger and hurt, maybe this could be the thing that helped bring us back together? Did I really still want Belle after all of this, though? Could I trust her now? The heart that hurt so badly in my chest told me that I'd always want Belle. It was my mind that was enraged to the point of being unforgiving for her lie; to punish her somehow. Whispering things like, maybe I should take Seth from her and see how she liked being deprived of our son like she had deprived me of him.

Was this what the rest of my life was going to be like? Secretly wishing for some kind of revenge? Holding onto the negativity and pain that kept my own flesh and blood at arm's length because my boy constantly felt the need to protect the parental figure he knew against the one he didn't? New determination filled me. I refused to live a life where I was constantly wondering 'what ifs'. Jaxon was right. Opportunity had knocked on my door and hand-delivered a second chance. I'd be dumber than a box of rocks if I threw that away. I'd have to figure out the best way to go about fixing things.

The word strained was a pale definition of what was left of Belle's and my relationship. There were ghosts of emotions left from years ago and I'd have to find ways to breathe life back into them. It was time to re-group and plan an attack. Only this attack wouldn't involve movements of troops into enemy territory or weapons meant to inflict injury or death. No, I'd be utilizing the element of surprise to keep Belle on her toes and slipping in some sensual movements. Little touches to make her dizzy with sensation until I could overwhelm her defenses and maneuver her where I wanted her.

I ignored the small bead of sweat that glided from the hairline of my forehead and down over the side of my face. Keeping my eye glued to the rifle's scope—staying on the ready for visual of our targets—I had begun making plans in my head about what to do next when it came to Belle.

First, a bed. It was a great way to relieve some of our frustrations and anger while reconnecting with each other. Then, the alter; tying her to me in the most fundamental of ways, so it would be damn near impossible for her to leave. Finally, pack her and Seth up and take them home to where headquarters was located in Virginia.

All I had to do was find a way to get over the sting of betrayal.

~~~

The next day...

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Good, God. Lifting my head, I glared at the hotel room door where someone was now knocking, disturbing my much needed sleep. If someone on the team wasn't bleeding to death on my doorstep I was going to shoot them myself. I'd only fallen into bed at seven o'clock this morning after a night of a whole lot of nothing happening at that stupid bar. I was ready to blow the damn building sky high just so I didn't have to look at it anymore.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Hold on a damn minute!"

Rolling off the bed I caught the red numbers on the clock that said it was eleven in the morning. Four hours of sleep sucked, but it was better than nothing. I'd dealt with a lot worse in the Army, especially while deployed in Afghanistan before taking a bullet to the knee. A knee that was giving off a familiar throb at the moment, which meant I needed to spend some time today stretching it.

Yawning, I shuffled to the door, one hand scratching my chest while the other adjusted my junk in my shorts. Looking down to make sure they weren't hanging indecently low and, finding them at a respectable hang off the hips, I opened the door, blinding myself with sunshine.

Blinking my eyes to adjust to the sudden light change, I froze in shock when I saw who was standing there in front of me. Seth and Belle.

Giving a subtle scan of Belle, I noticed she looked like shit. Not that I'd be stupid enough to voice the opinion, but it was no less than the truth. I guess I wasn't the only one who'd taken the little meet-and-greet two days ago badly. There were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn't slept at all and she looked a little pale, too. The rest of her looked like business as usual. She was wearing khaki pants with a navy blue polo shirt that had the ATF emblem embroidered on the left side of her chest and her service weapon was strapped to her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had minimal make-up on. She looked ready for a day at the office, so what was she doing here?

When she spoke her voice was low and hesitant. "I'm sorry if we woke you up. I forgot you were supposed to work a shift last night. Seth wanted to come by and apologize for the other day."

Seth cut his eyes at his mother. "I'm not apologizing. I'm willing to explain and talk. Not apologize."

Belle's face turned red in embarrassment before she stuttered, "We can come back if you'd like to go back to sleep, Bobby."

Stepping back and pulling the door open, I waved them inside. "Don't worry about it. I'd rather see you two than sleep anyways."

Seth's eyes widened in surprise at my statement. I guess my son didn't expect me to be all too happy to see him. Hopefully, soon he'd realize I was fucking ecstatic about the idea of him in my life, just devastated I'd missed so much of it already. Belle gave Seth a little push that had them both moving past me and through the door. They sat down at the small, two-seater table in the corner while I opened the curtains to the room's only window and let in some light so we could see each other. Since there was no room for me at the table, I sat on the end of the bed, facing them with my arms resting on my knees. I looked from Belle to Seth to find him analyzing the scars on my knee.

Lifting his chin in my direction he asked, "What happened?"

"I took a bullet to the knee in Afghanistan four years ago. The scars you see are from the surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage."

"Does it still hurt?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I answered, "Walking through metal detectors in an airport can be a pain in the ass; besides that, I'm fine. Some days it's sore, but I recovered pretty well. If the weather is really bad or if I move it the wrong way it'll ache, but that's not so bad. What did you want to talk about, son?"

His brows furrowed. "I'm not sorry for what I said to you the day before yesterday. I don't care if Mom thinks I should apologize or not, I was being honest, and honesty is everything." Turning to look at Belle he added, "You're the one who taught me that."

A snort slipped free before I could stop it and it earned a glare from my son and caused Belle to turn two shades lighter than her already pale color and she ducked her head. Holding my hands up in the surrender pose, I apologized, "I'm sorry. You have to admit if that's what she taught you, it's kind of ironic. That's not what we should concentrate on, though. I think we should try and move on with the future more than dwell on what's already happened. Let's get back to why you're here."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Seth continued to glare. "I told you how I felt and I meant it. I want a relationship with you, but only if you admit you're just as much at fault as Mom is." Holding his hand up in the air, he started holding his fingers up one by one as he ticked off his points on them. "She didn't get pregnant by herself, for one. Secondly, she had nowhere to go that was safe so there was no point in her staying there in Georgia. Number three, you broke a promise. That's Mom's biggest rule, you keep your promises no matter what. Like I told you, I've heard her and Aunt Teagan talking and they said you'd promised to come back and get her. You two were going to get married and move away. Then you left her behind and sent her a letter, so you broke your promise. You were wrong, too."

Indignation burned in my chest. I wanted to defend myself, but I couldn't. Not if things were going to start moving forward for us. "You're right; I'm to blame for this, too."

Belle started to protest, but Seth cut her off, "No, Mom, I don't care what you say. It's not all your fault, it was his fault, too, and I'm tired of you always blaming yourself."

Shocked silly was such an odd phrase, but in this moment, that's exactly what I was. I hadn't expected her to try and take all the blame when it came to our son. I'd thought she would cry her tears and spin her tale to make Seth believe she'd done it all for the best, but it was my fault for leaving them behind. I'd never thought she'd try and take all the blame on herself. It made me feel like the douchebag of the year to think the worst of her, but thinking the worst was something so easy to do when I felt like I couldn't trust her anymore. Maybe things were going to be a bit harder for me than I'd thought—getting over the betrayal she'd dealt me—if I was automatically assuming the worst of her now.

Seth kept talking, but now it was to me. "Where do we go from here, Dad?" My gaze swung back to his and I felt my eyes water up. He took one look at the tear that was stuck on my bottom lash and started to fidget. "It's okay to call you Dad, right?"

Man, that question was a double edged sword. On one hand, it stung my own kid had even felt the need to ask me if it was okay to call me Dad. On the other hand, hearing him call me that made it my new favorite word in the world. Standing up swiftly and closing the space between us, I grabbed him by his upper arm and hauled him up to me. Closing my arms around his shoulders, I hugged him fiercely, absently noting the first time I'd touched my own kid was when his head already cleared my shoulder, instead of as a tiny body lying in my arms. How many instances would I both rejoice and then despair because they reminded me of all that'd I'd missed with him?

Pushing the pain away again, I choked out, "You can call me whatever you want, but Dad sounds fucking awesome because I'll be calling you Son."

He barked a small laugh. "Another parent that cusses. Are you going to tell me I can't say those words, too?"

Pushing him back far enough to look into his face, "Man rule number one, what the women don't know, won't hurt them."

Seth burst out laughing as Belle gave a huff of frustration.

Annabelle

The hotel room door closed behind us as Seth and I walked towards my truck in the parking lot. There was a full day of work ahead of me and I had to get Seth back to school. I'd pulled him out during his lunch so he could talk to his father and so I could arrange for Bobby to spend some time with him at our house tonight while I was working. He'd be late to his next class, but it was time well spent and it wasn't like he was behind in any of his classes anyways. He'd managed to maintain an A average so far in school, which I considered a miracle since he had half of my DNA. The boy definitely took after his father not only in looks and athletics, but in the academic area as well.

We both climbed up in the truck, and neither of us said a word until Seth's high school came into sight.

"I'll always love you, Mom. No matter what."

Boy, I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that until he had given it to me. I felt the telltale pricks in the corners of my eyes that meant tears were threatening, and quickly squashed the urge to let them free. My emotional defenses had started crumbling the minute Bobby had walked back into my life and now I seriously needed to get my shit together. Walking through this world with your heart on your sleeve would get you nothing except a bucket load of misery, and who wanted to live life like that? There would always be room in my heart for my boy, though, and the reassurance he was offering that he would always love me in return was a blessing I would never take advantage of.

Parking the truck in front of the school's front entrance, I turned in my seat to face him. "Thank you, honey. I'll always love you, too. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're willing to forgive me for what I've done."

He shook his head for a second before reaching across the seat to pull me into a tight hug. "You need to forgive yourself, Mom. I forgave you a long time ago. You did what you thought was the best for us and what kid wouldn't be lucky to have a parent who did that for them? We're going to find a way to work all of this out. I promise."

Huffing a self-deprecated laugh, I told him, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you promises here?"

Pulling back to look me in the face, he smiled. "Doesn't matter who does it this time. All that matters is we'll get through this together." Letting me go, he grabbed his book bag out of the backseat and started to open the door to get out.

"Don't forget it'll be your dad who meets you at the house after football practice tonight. I've got to stay at work late." I almost choked on the words. Now that Bobby was in his life I would have to get used to talking to Seth about his father. Somehow, it felt like I'd stumbled on a new form of torture having to refer to Bobby as 'Dad'.

"Yeah, Mom, we made those plans like fifteen minutes ago. I haven't forgotten them that fast. Give me a break." Seth hopped out of the truck before I could give him a playful smack on the arm and jogged into the school without looking back.

I sat there marveling for a minute over his confidence that everything was going to be okay now that Bobby was in our lives. I only wished I had the same kind of confidence.
Chapter

13

Bobby

I let myself into Belle's house with the spare key she'd given me. Seth would be home in a few minutes and I was looking forward to spending some time alone with him while Belle was working. Stepping into the dark house, I shut the front door behind me and started to walk forward to the kitchen so I could turn a light on when movement in my peripheral vision at the dining room table stopped me. Turning to face the threat, I was surprised at who the unexpected intruder was. Teagan. Even in the dark, with nothing except the dim light from the rising moon filtering through the sliding glass doors behind her, I could make out red hair pulled back neatly from her face. She was staring at me blankly, with no hint of shock at my presence here in Belle's house, which meant one of two things. Either she knew I was here, or she was a master at hiding her emotions.

The fiery glow of a lit cigarette moved from where it had been hovering over its ash tray upwards to a feminine mouth where it then stopped so its owner could take a drag. As she exhaled her husky voice murmured, "Long time no see, Bobby."

Somehow, I got the impression this visit was no coincidence and she was far from happy to see me. Moving towards the kitchen, I turned on the light, went to the fridge, which was thankfully equipped with my drink of choice, grabbed two beers and then turned around, heading back to the dining room table. Setting the second unopened beer next to her already opened and half consumed one, I sat at the opposite end of the table from her. Scanning her from the top of her head to where her midsection disappeared underneath the table, I noted the years had been good to her physically.

Same bright red hair pulled back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her thin face with its high prominent cheekbones and lips that were so full they were almost too big for her face, told me she might look like the same stick skinny girl that she'd been in Georgia, but she might be a bit leaner and harder than she'd been before. It was hard to tell for sure, though, since she was wearing her Marine Corp cami's and her oversized issued seabag was on the floor, still stuffed with her gear. That meant she'd dropped whatever she was doing to come straight here when she'd presumably found out about me. Why would she feel the need to rush here to Texas to confront me? Looking for some kind of clue, I pulled my eyes from her seabag back to her face and looked her straight in the eye.

The rest of her face and body posture might be impassive, but the eyes gave it away. They were the same blue with green flecks, but they didn't look as young as the rest of her. The shadows there told me that while the outer packaging of Teagan Robert's might look damn good, on the inside, she'd seen too much and carried too many demons than could be exorcised. They seemed to burn with a near fanatical intensity that said she meant business. Not a mild mannered 'let's sit down and talk like reasonable adults' business, but more like a 'if you so much as blink the wrong way I will bust a cap in your sorry ass' business. Belle and Seth were her family and she wasn't going to let anyone mess with her family.

There were two problems with her assumptions. For one, I wasn't here to mess with them. On the contrary, I was here to claim them. For two, I wasn't just anyone and I wouldn't let her stand in the way of me obtaining what I considered mine. However, at the moment, Teagan Roberts looked like a junkyard dog at the end of her chain. That meant I was going to have to handle her with care in the hopes she wouldn't try to chew me up and spit me out while inadvertently ruining what I was working for here.

"Long time no see, Teagan. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Funny, that's what I've come to ask you."

There's nothing like knowing your suspicions are right. The woman had traveled from God knew where to come warn me off her best friend. Looked like some things never changed. She'd done something very similar when I'd first started pursuing Belle in high school. Only she hadn't shown up at my house unexpectedly to do it. Back then, she'd pulled me aside in the school's hallway to let me know if I hurt her best friend, she'd kick me in the balls so hard I'd be feeling them every time I tried to swallow my food for a week. Back then, I hadn't taken her very seriously. I wouldn't be making that mistake this go round.

"You might want to specify what exactly it is you're looking for here, Teagan. Do you want to know why I'm here in Texas? Or do you want to know why I'm here in Belle's house?"

She took another slow drag off her cigarette. "Oh, I know why you're in Texas. I want to know why you're here in her house. I can honestly say it's the one place on God's green earth I never expected to see you."

Fury ignited inside of me. Of course she never expected to see me here. She'd helped Belle keep the secret of my son from me. Unlike Belle, her father was still very much alive and still in Sylvania. Not that I would expect her to have some kind of close relationship with him since he wasn't much better than Belle's father had been, but the point was, she had the means to get in touch with me or my family if she'd wanted to let me know about Seth. So why should she expect me here? I didn't realize until this moment how mad I was at Teagan, too. For helping Belle keep Seth from me over the years and maybe for smoking that damn cancer stick in front of me, too. Not that she would know I was an ex-smoker and she was waving temptation in my face like a red cape at a bull, but it didn't stop the irrational urge to blame her for doing it on purpose anyways.

Taking a long pull off my beer gave me a few seconds to calm down so I wouldn't flip my shit on her. Starting a fight with Teagan wouldn't help me get to where I wanted to be with Belle or Seth. It would be better to see if I could turn her into an ally than give into the urge to lash out for things that were in the past and couldn't be changed.

Setting the beer down on the table, I answered the original question, "I'm here in this house because this is where my family lives. Now, why are you here?"

Stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray, she then spread her arms wide and gave a sarcastic smile. "I'm here because this is my family and I've always been welcome here. The same can't be said for you."

Tapping a finger on the side of my beer bottle I fired back, "They'll always be your family, Teagan, I get that, but they're my family, too. Now it's my turn for a question. How would you know I was here since that would be classified information?"

The side of her mouth tipped up in a cat that ate the canary grin. "Funny thing about trying to plan a surprise when you're coming home from overseas. Sometimes, you are the one who gets a surprise. I called a mutual friend of Belle's and mine to see if they would pick me up from the airport only to be warned Belle already had a surprise visitor here. You could say this individual is extremely concerned as to Belle's frame of mind about you showing up here in Texas and finding out about Seth. They urged me to get here as fast as possible. That's why there's practically still sand from Afghanistan on the bottom of my boots. I didn't even have the time to change after we were released from duty."

Through gritted teeth I snarled, "And who the hell is so concerned about my being here? The Sheriff Belle's been fucking?"

"Now, now, Bobby. That green-eyed monster impression you're doing doesn't look too good on you. Charlie Jenkins is a good man. In fact, I was hoping one day Annabelle would give in to his many requests of a long term relationship. He'd be a good husband to her and a good father figure for Seth."

I lost control of my temper and exploded. "Why the hell are you being such a bitch? I get that you're mad on your friend's behalf. I hurt her and you're trying to protect her." I waved a finger between the two of us. "You and I both know I'm not some dickhead scumbag like the two of you grew up with. Why are you bending over backwards to keep my family from me when I've just found them?"

Calmly, as if she didn't care how badly she'd pissed me off, Teagan took another cigarette out of her pack and lit it up. Fucking fantastic. She was going to be a goddamn chimney smoker in front of me. Once she'd taken a long inhale and blown it back out, she looked me dead in the face, as if she considered me no threat at all, and started moving those full lips of hers.

"I've got all kinds of patches from the service, you know. A patch that says I'm a proud Marine. A patch that says I'm a veteran. A patch that says I was there for Iraqi Freedom and a patch that says I'm there for Operation Enduring Freedom, but what I really need is a patch that says I was there for Operation BB-DB-AB".

"Is there a chance you're going to start to make some sense anytime soon?"

She kept going as if I hadn't spoken at all, "You see, the beginning of that war was BB, or 'Before Bobby.' I was there to watch as a little girl, the same age as me, walked on eggshells around a father ten times as violent as mine; always careful of what she said or did. Hoping one day he would wake up and love her like all the other fathers loved their little kids. Then, I watched her survive the crushing blow the day she turned into a teenager, her father once again did not get her so much as a fucking slice of cake, but instead came home and said now that she was old enough to be a whore like her mother and she should get out on the street and start paying their bills right before he knocked the ever living shit of her. Instead of completely crushing her spirit from having all her hopes and dreams of a real family brutally ended for her, she learned to buck-the-fuck up and do what she had to do to get by."

These were all things I already knew about Belle's life growing up. Frankly, I didn't want to relive them and be reminded how someone so innocent, so goddamn beautiful all the way down clear to her soul, had suffered so needlessly. Why was Teagan bringing this shit up?

"I was still there when DB rolled around. Otherwise known as 'During Bobby.' For that period, I watched one of the strongest people I know do something even I can't do to this day. I watched her muster up the courage to love someone when she'd never been loved before in her life by anyone but me. I stood on the sidelines, scared as shit you were playing some glorified high school prank on my best friend that would end up in her utter humiliation, wondering if you were playing her, would she be able to survive getting her hopes up that someone could care about her before those dreams were smashed to pieces. You stayed around for two years, though, and it seemed like Annabelle's dreams were coming true. It was the only thing I'd wished for in life. To have Annabelle finally have someone to fill those holes inside of her. You gave her that. Then, you took it away."

Jesus. She was going for my jugular tonight.

Teagan took a deep breath and kept going as if she were playing a chess match instead of verbally tearing me into little pieces. "Which brings us to AB. 'After Bobby.' Thanks to you, I watched her become a shell of herself. Only this time, I wasn't there for her because I was in boot camp. Why had I left my best friend alone so that I could go to boot camp?" She pointed a finger at me. "Because YOU promised me that she'd be taken care of. YOU told me that you loved her and she would never want for anything again; whether it be food, clothing or love. Then, YOU fucking left her behind like she was a piece of trash on the side of the road you couldn't bother to pick up. Even if I didn't hate you for leaving her behind, I would still hate you on principal because I couldn't be there for my best friend when she was hurting the most. Hell, I couldn't even find her. If she hadn't found a way to contact me while I was still in boot camp I wouldn't have had any idea of how to find her. Excuse me if I think you're worse than dog shit on the bottom of my shoe. You didn't find your best friend a shadow of the person she used to be while also pregnant and worried about how she was going to take care of a baby all by herself. I, on the other hand, did."

My rage boiled over so quickly I saw red. It would be a miracle if my blood pressure was in any kind of normal range and not shot sky-high through the roof. "Now, wait a damn minute! I didn't know she was pregnant and if I had, I would have taken care of her and Seth." Teagan opened her mouth to say something and I cut her off with a slash of my hand through the air in front of her. "Shut it. I get she's the only family that matters to you, so I understand your need to protect her, but you don't know the whole story; so you should keep your mouth shut 'til you do."

Snapping her jaw shut, she waved her hand at me to continue. "I fucked up sending that letter. I knew I'd made a mistake immediately after I'd sent it. I sent another letter, spilling my guts out to her. Apologizing for what I'd said. The minute I was allowed to make a phone call, I called my parents and told them what I'd done and asked them to help me find her so I could apologize. The problem was, she was already long gone. So, yeah, breaking up with her and letting her down on my promises and our dreams was wrong, but that didn't give her the right to keep my son from me. Not that it's any of your fucking business, either, but I've already apologized for all of this to her. I'm done explaining myself to people about this. It's between me, Belle and our son. No one else from here on out. You can stand behind them and support them, but you're going to keep your goddamn nose out of our business."

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened again to say something.

"I damn well mean it, Teagan! This. Is. My. Family. I'm trying to fix it! I will not have you messing it all up for me out of some twisted sense of protection. I love Seth and I still love Belle, even if I have the occasional urge to choke her out for what she's done. Shit, mistakes and circumstances came between me and my family once before. Now, nothing will stop me from claiming my family. Do you understand me, woman?"

"You should probably stop yelling at Aunt Teagan now, Dad."

Whipping my head around, I found Seth propped up against the wall behind me with his arms crossed over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other, and one side of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

Running frustrated hands over my hair, I dropped them by my sides and tipped my head back to the ceiling, looking for divine intervention or a black hole to swallow me up. Talk about screwing shit all up.

"God, Son. I'm so sorry you had to hear tha—"

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "No biggie, Dad. It was kind of cool to hear you telling her that you wanted us."

Man. The kid just un-did me sometimes.

Walking forward until we were only a few feet apart, I reached over, hooked an arm around his neck and tugged him over into a one-armed hug. "Never doubt it from here on out, boy. I'll always want you."

He nodded his head. "That's good." Then, he socked me in the gut with a light punch. "But stop yelling at Aunt Teagan now. I haven't seen her in over year."

Stepping out from underneath my arm, I watched my son walk over to Teagan and pull her up into a bear hug, which wasn't hard for him to do since they were the same height. There were a few low murmured words while they hugged and I found myself jealous. Teagan obviously had an easy, close and loving relationship with my son. Something I should have, too, but didn't. Instead of letting the familiar anger of my situation sweep over me, causing me to potentially grind my molars down into nothing except tooth dust, I reminded myself this was what I was trying to fix. This was my second chance to get it all right.
Chapter

14

Annabelle

If I never see a stack of paperwork that high again, I can die a happy woman. Who knew you had to cross so many t's and dot so many dag-gum i's to request another department to share their reports from an arms bust that was related to your case? It was freaking ridiculous. Trudging up the front steps of my porch, my shoulders sagged, and I was hoping I had enough energy to thank Bobby before kicking him the hell out of my house so I could fall into a semi-coma from my lack of sleep the past few days.

When I walked through the front door, though, a smell so heavenly it could have been a gift from God hit my nose and I had to make sure my mouth wasn't open or the drool would start pouring out of my mouth. Leaving the entryway, I was met with a sight I would have never expected to see in my entire life. Standing in my kitchen, in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand as he flipped something over in the pan, was Bobby.

I don't know what it was exactly about him in that moment. It could have been the jeans he was wearing that cupped those strong thighs and that sinful ass of his. Or it could have been the t-shirt he was wearing that hung loose around the waistline and snug across the back of those broad shoulders. More than likely, however, it was because he was such a big, strong, mouthwatering man that was doing something as domestic as cooking a freaking meal. He was suddenly the sexiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on.

That was saying something since I'd once had to go into the Texas Longhorn's locker room after one of their practices to look for a suspect I'd been chasing. I'd run into a vision of muscled, naked, wet bodies fresh from the shower that started scrambling for their towels the minute they'd seen me enter the room. After that day, I considered myself a bit of an authority on sexy men. Bobby Baker standing in my kitchen, cooking a meal, was now firmly at the top of the list of sexual fantasies. It was too bad fantasy wouldn't meet reality and he would not be giving in to the sudden urge to spread me out on the dining room table and pretend I was dessert. Not that it would matter if he was interested. I was so tired right now, I'd probably fall asleep even if it was the best sex of my life.

Walking into the kitchen, he heard my footsteps and turned his head to see me. "Hey. Glad your home safe. If you wait a second I'll have this served up and you can sit down and eat."

That stopped me in my tracks. He'd cooked for me? I'd assumed he was cooking himself dinner. Or maybe Seth a late meal even though it was ten o'clock and the kid was supposed to be in bed by now because he had school tomorrow. Why in the world would he cook for me?

"Well, why would I cook for myself and not cook for you? I'm not that much of an asshole. And Seth is in bed. I thought teenagers were supposed to give you a hard time about when they went to bed? I didn't even have to say anything to him. He got up from the couch at ten, gave me a hug goodnight and went to bed. Is he like a Stepford kid or something?"

I'd said all of that out loud? Holy shit.

"Yeah, and you're still saying it out loud. You realize that, right?"

Giving my eyes an exaggerated swipe of the hands, I looked back up to find Bobby's lips twitching. "I must seem crazy right now. Ignore me. I'm really tired."

"Get yourself something to drink, babe."

He turned back to the stove and started dishing out food onto two plates. This whole scenario seemed surreal. He'd been worried Seth was a Stepford kid? Pft. I was worried he was a Stepford Bobby! Getting a glass down from the cabinet, I filled it with cold water from the tap and started taking sips out of it as I leaned against the counter, watching him.

"You want to sit at the table or what?"

A table with Bobby seemed too intimate. Sitting next to each other. Perhaps even closely. His knee accidentally touching mine under the table. Low conversation and lingering looks. Too much like a couple sitting down to enjoy time with each other. It was best to avoid things like that. He wouldn't understand why that would hurt me and that wasn't his fault.

"I've been sitting at a desk all day long with paperwork. I'll stand here at the counter and eat. You can go to the table if you'd like to, though. Promise it won't hurt my feelings."

He gave me a considering look, put my plate on the counter in front of me, and then placed his own plate a few feet away from my own. Leaning over the counter a bit to tuck into his food, he started shoveling forkfuls of chicken and herbed rice as if he was afraid it was going to disappear. It kind of reminded me of how Seth used to eat his food when he was four or five. He'd had oodles of energy and he'd practically swallow food whole in his attempt to get it down quickly.

He noticed my lack of movement and looked up from under his eyelashes, taking a pause with his fork in midair on the way to his mouth. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Do you even bother to chew? Or do you just swallow and hope you don't choke?"

His cheeks turned a tad bit pink and he put his fork back on his plate. "Sorry. Some habits die hard. Including the one you pick up in mess halls about eating quickly."

"Well, at least you're not eating like that because you're in a race to get away from me." Picking up my fork, I speared a piece of chicken and put it in my mouth. A buttery, lemon flavor exploded on my tongue and the next thing I knew my eyes rolled back in my head and there was a moan slipping out of me. "Gawd, Bobby. That's... yum."

"Do you always make sounds like that while you're eating?"

"Only when the food is good enough to deserve it."

"That's going to be a problem for me when we're eating dinner with Seth then, because I don't know how comfortable I feel sporting a boner when my son is around."

Now it was my turn to blush. Unable to look at him, I kept my eyes fixed to my plate as I used my fork to push my food around a bit. "How often do you think you'll be cooking us dinner?"

"Every chance I can get. Especially if I get to hear you make sounds like that again."

Sucking in a surprised breath, I missed that he'd moved closer to me until his hand was there cupping the side of my face, moving it up so I had to look him in the eye. We were only inches apart, the heat from his body warming the front of my own. That little bit of contact was too much. "Don't, Bobby."

His gorgeous blue eyes searched my face. "Don't what, baby?"

The familiar pricks of tears forming started in the corner of my eyes. I'd told myself I wasn't going to cry anymore and not even twenty-four hours later, I was about to start blubbering like an idiot. "Don't do this to me, please."

A thumb slowly swept over my cheekbone. "What am I doing, Belle?"

"I can't handle it. Don't make me beg."

His face moved a little closer. "What am I doing that will make you beg?"

"You're acting like you want me and I know that's not possible because you hate me now. I understand why you hate me, Bobby, I do. What I did was wrong and I'm so sorry." Sucking in a ragged breath, I gave a tortured whisper, "Please, if you ever truly cared for me, don't do this to me. Don't act like you want me when I know you don't."

"I can't do that."

Sniffling now, I ask, "WHY?"

"Because I do want you. I've never stopped wanting you, and I never will, no matter what's happened between us. You pissed me off. You hurt me so bad I'll never be the same, but you'll never be able to do anything that will make me stop wanting you."

His free arm slipped around my waist and pulled me roughly into him. The hand holding my face slid back into my hair, pulling my ponytail out, causing the heavy weight to drop to my back before he fisted the strands to hold me where he wanted me. Closing the remaining distance between us, his lips skimmed mine as he spoke, "You can break my heart. You can scoop it right out from inside of my chest with a dull, rusty spoon and, even then, I wouldn't be able to stop wanting you."

That's when I lost the battle with the tears. A few escaped my eyes and slipped down my cheeks as I looked at him. He wasn't hiding anything from me. It was all there for me to see. His pain. His anger. His lust. What I wasn't sure about was his love. Even if it was still there—deep down inside, buried under everything else—I didn't deserve it. The last time I'd tried to believe in a love between the two of us it damn near killed me when he left. What would happen this time if I let him in again—only to find out I'd destroyed that love—and he had nothing else left to give besides desire? What would we end up doing to each other this time around?

It felt as if he was surrounding me, closing me in a trap, and it was too much to take. Pulling my head back as far as I could since he was keeping my body secured against his, I pleaded with him, "This is a bad idea, Bobby. We're only going to hurt each other again. You'll never get past all of the agony between us for it to work. If we give in to this... need we have for each other, we aren't the only ones that can get hurt anymore."

His grip tightened until he was unconsciously hurting me. There would be fingertip bruises on my lower back tomorrow to remind me that whatever was about to happen had been no dream.

"I fucked up and you ran. Now we're going to make this work. We're going to be the family we should have always been, Belle. We'll find a way to fix this. You owe it to me to at least try." There was a scary intensity in his eyes and I briefly wondered who he was trying to convince here, me or himself.

I could be wrong. This could work out and we could be the happy little family I'd dreamed of having one day, for hours and hours on end, as a kid. The problem was I was afraid to believe. Terrified to hope. Crazy to dream of it. There would be no middle ground with the outcome of this. It was going to end up being a dream come true with happily ever after's or leave me the kind of broken that was unfixable forever and ever. There was only one thing that swayed me towards the decision I made. Bobby was right. I owed him.

Bobby

Emotions were messy. Somehow, as a teenager they'd felt a lot more simple. Back then, I was in love with Belle and that was all there was to it. Being around her made me feel alive. Now, as an adult, I struggled between the parts of me that wanted to love her and the parts that wanted to rage at her for taking so much from me. From taking so much from us. Like our chance at being a family.

On the flip side, the other part of me wanted to give her assurances and pretty promises wrapped up in the package that was my heart. Free and clear of all the resentment of past mistakes so we could move on from it all together. The problem with that was I couldn't seem to sort through it all to go one way or the other. I was stuck in the middle, wanting to both love her and hate her, which wouldn't work.

I refused to let myself be the one that ruined this second chance. If it fucking killed me, I was going to find a way to make this work. Impatiently waiting for Belle to say something, to admit she would try to make this work, too, I tried to make myself say the words she needed. Three little words that would erase her doubts. Three syllables that carried more weight than should be possible. Eight letters that my vocal cords were unwilling to say. Frustration with myself surged. What the hell was my problem? I did still love Belle, so why couldn't I give her the words?

Just as I was about to lose my ever lovin' mind at her continued silence, she moved. Her hands came up tentatively, moving slowly up my chest until she gripped both of my shoulders with fingers that trembled. Pulling down on my shoulders to bring me closer, she lifted up on her toes and placed a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

"Okay, Bobby, we'll try."

There it was. Vulnerability. She was scared shitless of what we could do to each other—the possibility we would rip into each other with the kind of animosity that no love could repair—and, in the end, leave two emotional corpses behind instead of living, breathing people who had learned and loved. Despite her fears, she was giving into me anyway. Being the kind of bastard that I am, I was going to take the opportunity she was giving me, even if I hadn't figured out how to stop hating her long enough to remember how much I did love her.

When it came to Belle, I was taking it all. There was no part of her I wouldn't touch. That I wouldn't own. From her soft, satin-like skin to the depths of her very soul; she was going to feel me all over her, inside of her, and surrounding her until there wasn't a doubt in that pretty, little head of hers that she was never running from me again. I wasn't going to let anything stop me from conquering all that she was, even my own stupid pride.

Her lips brushed mine again, snapping the hold I had on my restraint. I left one hand in her hair, fisting the strands so I could control her as I slanted my mouth savagely over hers. Thrusting my tongue inside like the marauder I was feeling like at the moment, to tangle with hers almost forcefully. It was no slow, gentle kiss. It represented exactly how I felt at that moment. It was deep. Intoxicating. So fucking hungry you would think I was starving, but not for food. Starving for her. Always for her.

I slipped my other hand from where I'd had it clamped on her back, down to grasp one of those full, round ass cheeks of hers, pulling her body into mine so tight that I knew she could feel my dick, hot and hard, pushing against her stomach. The friction of her body rubbing against the length of me was good enough that I groaned into her mouth, but the pleasure was short lived because that was not what I wanted to rub up against. I was not in the mood to fuck around with that anticipation shit right now. In some ways, I felt like I'd been anticipating Belle my whole life. What I wanted—no, needed—right now was to be buried balls deep in her, fucking her so hard she'd be feeling the way I'd stretched and filled her for at least a week.

Refusing to lose connection with her mouth, I slipped the hand from her hair so I could grab her ass in both hands, then bending my knees a little, I lifted her up until she had to wrap those sexy legs of hers around my waist for support. Moving forward, I was so engrossed in her that I miscalculated where the kitchen entrance was at, completely missed it, and ended up slamming her against the wall next to it instead. She was grinding against me now. Rubbing her core up and down my dick until I thought my eyes were going to roll back in my head and I was going to shoot off in my jeans like a teenager.

There was no cooling this explosiveness between us and I wouldn't want to, even if I could. The chemistry between us was off the charts. So much so that even Marie Curie wouldn't have been able to identify whatever it was that we were. We were burning so hot for each other that a part of me had to reluctantly admit Belle was right, we were bound to get burned up in all of this, but I didn't give a shit. I'd rather be burnt to cinders and left in a pile of ash than never have this with her again. It was self-destructive of me, but all I wanted to do was add more gasoline to our fire so we would burn strong and out of control, instead of watching it fizzle away and be cold and alone. So, sexual gasoline it was.

I felt my climax starting to build. The tell-tale tingling at the base of my spine going off like a warning beacon that it was about to be the beginning of the end. Since I wasn't exactly buried in her hot, wet depths yet, that was un-fucking-acceptable.

Abruptly pulling my lips off hers, I listened to her ragged breathing as I tightened my grip on her, then started hauling ass down the hallway towards what I sure as shit was hoping was her bedroom. I hadn't moved this fast since the last time I'd been under enemy fire. At least this time, instead of taking a bullet to the knee. I'd be taking her instead.

Walking through the last door on the left I scanned our surroundings, saw bedroom furniture, and almost threw Belle bodily on the bed so I could do a victory dance in celebration of my upcoming touchdown of the naked variety. Forgoing my need to act like an idiot, I kicked her door closed, used one of my hands in a ninja fast move to lock the door behind us, and then took three steps towards the bed before I did toss her on it.

She squeaked in surprise at being momentarily airborne, but had no time to give me shit about it because, by the time she landed horizontally on the bed, I was already there, pulling her boots off to throw them out of the way over my shoulder.

"If you don't want your shirt ripped to pieces on the floor, I suggest you take that shit off while I'm taking care of your pants."

Belle went bodily still for about two point three seconds at the hoarse demand before she was in motion. Pulling her shirt up and over her head as I peeled her khakis and panties down her legs and off, then they, too, went up and over my shoulder to disappear behind me. She unclipped the front enclosure on her bra and peeled it off as I grabbed the condom I'd placed in my back pocket earlier, hoping for this outcome and then shucked out of my clothes faster than ever before. By the time my jeans hit the floor, I was already moving towards her, condom packet ripped open and rolling it down my length.

She was trying to scoot herself around so we'd be laying on the bed in the right direction, but I crawled up her body, grabbed her hips and stopped her. I was so far gone I didn't care what direction we were facing; horizontal, vertical, hanging halfway off the bed, or tied up in pretzel knots, as long as I got to bury my cock in her within the next breath I took.

Slipping a finger down through damp, trimmed, blonde curls to her entrance I growled, "Please, God, tell me you're ready." The callused pad of my pointer finger encountered the proof of her desire as I rubbed it quickly up and down her lips, then parted them to shove two fingers up inside her to make sure. What I found there made me a happy man. "Fuck, yeah, baby, you're dripping for me." Pulling my fingers out, I used my knees to spread her legs apart roughly while positioning myself where I wanted to be. "It's a good thing, too, 'cause you're going to need it."

I thrust hard inside of her so that she took me in one stroke and I managed to cover her mouth with my hand before she could cry out. I might want her screaming my name in pleasure, but I don't want my son to be traumatized for life over hearing it. Pulling myself out to the tip, I slammed in again, needing to give it to her hard and fast. She moaned this time, still muffled by my hand as I started stroking in and out of her in short, body slapping thrusts. The tip of her tongue licked over the palm of my hand a few times and then I felt her teeth give a sharp, little bite to its flesh. Hissing at the pleasure of the small bite of pain, I uncovered her mouth to thrust even harder into her for a few beats before pulling out long enough to slide both of my hands up the backs of her legs and pushing them up to her chest while leaning on them with my weight. Driving back into her, I moaned at the deeper sensation. The farther I got inside of her, the better she felt.

The sound of my hips slapping against her thighs wasn't enough to distract me from the sight of her breasts bouncing up and down at a rapid beat as I started a rhythm so fast she was forced to curl her hands over the side of the mattress and try to hold on, or find herself literally fucked over the side of the bed inch by inch.

The tingling started in the base of my spine again and I growled in frustration. I didn't want to come yet, I wasn't deep enough inside of her. I needed more. I needed to be so far inside of her that I was submerged in a way she couldn't get me out this time, dammit. Pulling out of her again, I slid off the bed, grabbed her by her hips, flipped her over to her stomach, and then pulled her backwards towards me until her legs were hanging over the side of the bed in front of me and her ass was at the perfect height for me to plunge back inside.

Using my hands to spread her crudely open, I impaled her on me. Her walls gripped me tight, rippling around my cock as I held myself deeper inside of her than I'd ever been. It still wasn't enough for the savage side of my brain that had taken over for me, though. Smoothing my hands up her back, I gripped her shoulders tightly in each hand, holding her in place, and then my hips jack hammered against her backside in a frenzied pace. Pulling her back into my thrusts so that I was pushing as deep as I could inside of her; filling her with everything I had. Hoping this would be enough to get where I needed to go, to stay permanently etched into her, on both the physical and emotional levels that could tie her to me. It was a caveman kind of thing to do, but I was literally fucking her half to death to make sure she knew she was mine. Inside and out.

Belle buried her face in the mattress to muffle her moans, which was a good thing because my woman was loud. Keeping my pace, I still managed to slip a hand underneath her hips and place my fingers against her clit. With the bed pressing them tight against her and my furious thrusts providing the motion, it was the perfect combination to set her off like a rocket. Her hot, wet sheath clamped down on my cock like a vice as she screamed my name into the comforter and it wasn't until she was lying like a limp doll on the bed that I let myself give into the release that had been building since the kitchen.

Falling on top of her, careful not to push her too far into the bed so I was accidentally smothering her with my weight, I let the ragged breaths saw in and out of my chest while my mind fuzzed out. I pulled together enough sense to hope I'd fucked the doubts right out of her, too.

Annabelle

Bobby's hips were still giving small, involuntary thrusts with the end of his orgasm as he lay on top of me, trying to catch his breath. When I'd thought the love making we'd done in his hotel room was the best sex of my life, it had to figure he'd go and prove me utterly wrong. This had been different. Definitely not making slow, tender love. Instead, it had been mind-numbing, angry sex, but it was by far the best sex of my life and I'd be lucky if I didn't look like a bowlegged cowgirl for the next week.

All of that aside, I was still processing. Riding the euphoric highs while trying to shove away the devastating lows. A low that was inadvertently thrown back in my face like a cold glass of ice water as Bobby gingerly pulled himself out of me and walked into my bathroom to presumably dispose of the condom.

Complete and utter shock. What happened to nothing between us ever again? Emotional pain at his subconscious need to keep barriers to protect himself from me stung. The remnants from the physical pleasure were draining away as the toilet flushed and he walked back into the room, climbed onto the bed and collapsed onto his back. Shoving both of his hands under my armpits, he hauled me up until he had me where he wanted me, sprawled across his chest. I would have complained, but the position gave me the perfect opportunity to hide my face as well as the tears traveling down it, from him.

He'd talked a good game about us working through this, but the reality was he was keeping some space between us. Throwing defenses up around his heart and not truly letting me in, to protect himself from me. Proof positive that I'd been right when I'd said we were going to hurt each other. I could see the heart breaking outcome on the horizon; however, I wasn't going to stop trying because Bobby was right.

I owed him a chance.
Chapter

15

Bobby

Three days later...

Leaving Belle naked in bed at three o'clock in the morning sucked. Big time. Especially when it was because I had to drag my ass halfway across town to my empty hotel room to get ready for my shift. It was my job though, and I still loved my job even with the new complications of what it meant to have a family. I'd started down the hallway towards my room when another door opened and a lean figure slipped out noiselessly. The door belonged to Declan's room. The body coming out of that door did not belong to my best friend. It belonged to my girl's best friend.

Teagan had a serious case of bed-head, her t-shirt was on inside out, her jeans were unbuttoned and she was holding her socks and tennis shoes in her hand. Holy flaming monkey balls. Declan had slept with Teagan. This was a case of complete and utter FUBAR.

Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

How in the holy hell had that redheaded troublemaker managed to sleep with the one person she knew would bug the living shit out of me, when as far as I knew, she hadn't even met him yet?

Normally, Declan's active sex life was no concern of mine. My boy liked to love up on women and he liked to do it often. As in everyday of the week that ended in 'Y.' This time, though... well, this time his booty call could cause me problems of epic proportions. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Belle. Screw the scorned woman, Belle was much scarier.

More than likely, Teagan had gone out of her way to intentionally seek out Declan after Belle had mentioned him in front of her last night when asking me if I'd like to invite him to dinner. I'd told her we'd invite the boys over for dinner another night and I was glad I'd done so because the entire night had ended up being a slow, torture session for me due to Teagan's dirty looks.

Normally, I wouldn't care if someone wanted to shoot me death glares, but this time it had bugged the ever living shit out of me because she was doing it in front of Seth and I couldn't say anything to her without making a scene. After the awkward dinner filled with enough tension it was obvious to both Belle and Seth that Teagan hated my guts—so much so she wouldn't spit on me if I was on fire—I realized I really should stay out of this. That didn't stop my internal debate on whether I should point out the obvious problems to her getting naked with Declan, or if I should stay quiet and hope for the best.

I watched as she silently closed the door, then proceeded to walk down the hallway, passing me standing there—obviously watching her, not saying a word to me as she goes by—and headed towards the stairs at the end of the hallway that lead to the second floor.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I hissed.

She stopped, turned around to face me, and gave me an annoyed look. "I'm short on time here, Baker, so you'll have to hurry up this little fit you're obviously about to throw and skip to the part where you tell me what you think I've done wrong."

"Are you throwing attitude at me after coming out my boy's room doing the walk of shame? Is that what's going on here?"

Teagan smirked. "Walk of shame isn't the term I like to use because I've done nothing to be ashamed of. I prefer to call it the stride of pride. I promise you, your boy has never had it so good and won't be forgetting me anytime soon. I left my mark on him. Literally. In several places. Now if we're done with this little talk, I've got things to do."

She started to turn away from me when I snapped, "Tell me this is some God-awful coincidence. For the love of all that's holy, please tell me you didn't actually track down my buddy just to piss me off."

She cocked an eyebrow and shot me a 'Well, aren't you SPECIAL' condescending look.

"You don't think it's a bad idea for you to be playing naked twister with Declan when the two of you are bound to run into each other down the road now that Belle and I are back together? You're Seth's godmother for fuck's sake! You bumped uglies with the man I plan to make his godfather! Have you no shame, woman? What if this causes problems down the road?"

Her smirk turned into a full-fledged sardonic grin. "Now, why would that be a problem? It's not like I'm asking him to put a ring on my finger. Bottom line, you fucked with my best friend, now I've fucked with yours. Seriously, this conversation has been oh so fun, but I have to go now. I've got a flight to catch back to base. But since you're standing here without Belle to give me dirty looks for what I'm about to say, though, let me get it out of my system. You break her heart again and I'll break your face."

"That's it? That's all you've got for a threat? How very high school of you. I expected more from you since you're a big bad Marine now."

"The fact that I'm a big bad Marine now shouldn't have you questioning my threat to break your face. It should have you asking how I plan on breaking it. Bone by bone with the butt of my rifle while you're tied up and helpless comes to mind."

Without another word Teagan disappeared up the stairs towards her room. Since things were so strained between us, I couldn't help being relieved she was leaving to go back to wherever she was stationed because, according to what she'd told Belle earlier that night while they were having dinner, she had "shit to do." When she'd said that, I'd had the overwhelming urge to thank God for 'her shit' and that she had to leave to see to it. I'd find a way to smooth things over with Teagan later. Right now, I had to concentrate on solidifying my relationships with Belle and Seth.

Shaking my head at the run in with the crazy redhead, I finally made it to my room. As I showered, shaved and prepped for the day, it gave me time to reflect. Things for the past few days had been good. I'd had day shifts, doing surveillance on the Big Bull Bar, which gave me the opportunity to spend time with Seth after he came home from school and football practice. After Seth went to bed at night, Belle and I spent time in her bedroom behind a locked door. Maybe having a shitload of sex wasn't the answer to our problems, but at least we spent time cuddling afterwards in order to connect on other intimate levels. As we lay there, I would ask her to tell me things about her and Seth over the last fifteen years. At first, she was hesitant to talk about them; afraid it would cause me to become upset again over what I'd missed out on, but eventually, she became more forth-coming with answers when she saw that I was able to keep my cool.

She told me little, happy things, like Seth's first birthday cake was covered in blue icing that ended up making him look like the cookie monster after he face planted himself in the middle of the cake. She told me funny things, like how she'd found out about Seth's first kiss with his first girlfriend when he was thirteen because the boy hadn't realized he was supposed to wipe off the lipstick before he came home. Belle told me things to make me proud, like Seth was a straight A student, always had been, and this was just one of the many things that had always reminded her of me while she was raising our son.

What she did not do was tell me about herself. Even when I asked her direct questions about herself, she found polite ways to deflect them. At first this bothered me because it was obvious she was holding back. Then, it bothered me because I started to wonder what she was holding back. Had she been out there dating every man she could get her hands on in the hopes she could find a temporary someone so she wouldn't feel alone? If that was the case, had she been stupid enough to parade those men in front of my son? I'd started to work myself up into a serious snit about what was floating through my head.

Last night, when I asked her why she wouldn't talk to me about it, she'd immediately become very quiet. For a few seconds, I'd thought to myself, this has to be proof positive my woman had been out parading herself when she should have had her ass at home taking care of our boy. I was quickly put in my place when her soft, almost embarrassed voice, finally did answer.

"I don't answer your questions, Bobby, because there's not much to tell. During my pregnancy and for a little over a year after Seth was born, I was way too busy to have a life. Getting prepared to have a baby is no joke and I was lucky to have the help of Miss Reba. There were also the college classes she'd enrolled me in. After starting my second year of classes, Miss Reba told me to go out and live a little once in a while. She wanted me to date and feel like the young woman I was supposed to be. I went out on a handful of dates while she watched Seth at home, but nothing ever happened with any of them."

She swallowed, her facial features becoming tight with strain, and then her small voice said, "I was still hurting over you. Then, Miss Reba was sick, the days felt never ending between taking care of Seth and trying to help the woman who had helped me so very much. How she pushed herself to live long enough to see me get that degree, I'll never know. I'll love her forever for it. After she passed, life was a blur. When you're a parent, days flow in and out quickly and, before you know it, an entire year has gone by. Eventually, I started dating again, but there were never any serious relationships because I couldn't open myself up to them."

She hesitated for a few seconds before she said, "It seemed cruel to let a man develop feelings for me when I knew they would never be returned. You were the love of my life, even if I couldn't have you. I get you're curious about our lives, but I don't want to talk about any past relationships or the lack of them. Just like I don't want to hear about yours. We may have felt the need to fill our lonely nights, but that doesn't mean I want to hear about all the women you let into your bed because you'd pushed me out of it."

Yeah, after that talk, I felt about two feet tall. Or shorter. What was really telling about the incident was not that I'd had to badger Belle for answers. Or that when she did answer me, it was an answer that would rightfully make me feel like a douchebag. No, what was stuck in my head was I'd automatically assumed the worst of her when she refused to answer me. Almost as if I wanted her to be guilty of some kind of crime I could punish her for.

This kind of thinking was not conducive to the theory that I was working towards a happy ending with my family. It was more like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bracing myself for when she did something else to hurt me. It was no way to rebuild a loving relationship with a woman that you hypothetically wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Apparently, I still had shit to sort out in my head. I'd have to sort it out later, though, because it was time to strap on my boots and get to work.

Annabelle

Later that afternoon...

"Do you think Aunt Teagan totally hates him, Mom?"

Rubbing a hand across my forehead, I gave a weary sigh. "Hate's such a strong word..."

He nodded his head. "Right. Because Aunt T only gives people she loves looks that could eviscerate them."

Staring back at my son in a small state of shock, I asked, "Eviscerate, Seth?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Coach has us doing this stupid word-a-day thing. Says he's trying to expand our vocabulary. That was one of last week's words."

Still unable to stop staring at my fourteen-year-old son, I asked, "What are some of the other words?"

"Annihilate, decimate, eradicate, obliterate—"

"Let me guess, Coach still doesn't have a new girlfriend since the last one dumped him when she said he was too obsessed with football?"

"Yup."

"Man, he needs to get laid."

"Mom!"

The look of horror on his face was comical. Not bothering to hide my laughter, I asked, "What?"

He turned away from me and headed to his room, muttering something about needing therapy and bleach for his brain to wipe out the images I'd put there. As his door closed, my cell phone rang.

The display said it was Boyd calling and, since it's our day off, that can only mean something had happened with the case. "What's happening, Boyd?"

"Our informant got us a message ten minutes ago that says they're moving the shipment today. Commander Wall is with the team already in position for surveillance of the bar. Since that means he's basically on communications black out, I've sent him a text message letting him know what's going on. Our SAC wants us up at the Big Bull Bar in half an hour to play surveillance from the inside. Get your ass in gear and I'll see you there."

The dial tone sounded as I glanced at the microwave clock. Two in the afternoon and Seth was getting ready to go over to the neighbor's house to hang out with his buddy, Josh. At least I wouldn't have to worry about where he was. Heading towards the back of the house where our bedrooms were, I stopped to knock on his door.

He quickly popped the door open and stood there with a book bag slung over his shoulder. "You spending the night at Josh's?"

Rubbing his finger over his bottom lip and almost looking guilty he muttered, "Yeah, did I forget to ask if that was okay?" I looked at my son closely because my Mom Radar was pinging like crazy. He was up to something and I didn't have time for this. Seth squirmed under my scrutiny. "Mom, are you going to stand and stare at me or what?"

"Work called me in. When are you heading over to Josh's?"

"Now, if that's okay with you?"

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I looked him straight in the eye. "Please, tell me you're going to stay out of trouble. I won't be able to concentrate on work if I'm worried about you."

The left side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. "No worries. We're going to play on his Xbox and eat pizza."

Maybe I was wrong. Seth had never really given me problems before, perhaps it was just my paranoia. I gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. "Alright, big man, I've got to hurry and get ready to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

I turned around in the hall to head into my room when he called out to me. Looking back over my shoulder at him, I watched as his face displayed some internal war he was waging before going blank. "Be careful out there. I love you."

"Love you, too, Seth." Giving him a reassuring smile, I walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind me to get dressed. I was running out of time and it was best to keep this simple, so I left on my jeans and strapped my gun, already in its ankle holster, on. Then I changed my tank top out for one of my Texas Longhorn, fitted, short-sleeve shirts and slipped my feet into my tennis shoes. Since football season had started, no one would think twice about me showing up at the bar dressed like this. I didn't have time to do much else, so I left my hair long and curly, hanging down my back.

Adrenaline was already pumping through me. This could be the day we closed this case, which was what I'd been working hard to do for a long time now. Of course, if the case was over, then so was our need for the Ex Ops Team. What would happen with Bobby and I when he had to go home?

No. I couldn't do this to myself right now. The case needed my focus. Everything else would have to take a back seat until later. As I stepped out of my house and walked towards my truck, I readied myself. It was time to put my kick-ass, bad mama-jama face on and get to work.

Bobby

The familiar rumble of Belle's truck echoed through the trees around the bar where the Ex Ops Team was hidden. When Jaxon had come over the comm. link to inform us of the possible extraction of the weapons, it was also with the news that Belle and Boyd would be onsite shortly for internal surveillance of the bar. My stomach immediately went into knots. The thought of her in the building while the transaction was happening, with the ruthless criminals that would be moving the guns in attendance, damn near made me break out in hives. Not that I could say anything. Or stop her, for that matter. This was her job and I would be a hypocrite to say anything about my dislike for putting herself in dangerous situations when my job description required the same thing.

It took every ounce of will I had not to get up from my position behind the building and stalk into the bar to drag her out when Riley reported her clothing description and disappearance into the bar moments later. I'd be a good little soldier and stay out here where I was supposed to be, but God help anyone in the bar that harmed a single hair on her beautiful head because there's not a rock on this earth I wouldn't look under to find them so I could rip them to shreds. 
Chapter

16

Annabelle

The Big Bull Bar was already half-full of customers sitting at the bar or tables—drinking beer and watching ESPN—impatiently waiting for the Longhorn's game that was due to come on later in the day. Ignoring the crowd, I made my way up to the bar where an empty stool sat in front of Travis Henderson, the bar's manager, and our primary suspect. He glanced up at me when I sat down, asking me what I'd like to drink without an ounce of recognition of having to push me out from the back of his bar a couple of weeks ago, which was good. If he had recognized me, it would have made me nervous.

An exit sign at the end of the hall flashed for a brief second as the metal door beneath it swung open. Two men, wearing faded blue coveralls and baseball caps, emerged from the sunlight, each pushing a hand truck loaded with a keg a piece. The guy in the front did a chin lift to Travis, who quickly placed my drink in front of me before walking off down the hallway. Travis must have finally learned to lock up after himself after I'd stumbled into his back storage area a few weeks ago because I watched him grab his keys from the front pocket of his jeans. His walk was unsteady, yet quick, as he made his way towards the delivery men with fingers shaking so badly they fumbled a little as he shoved the key into the lock.

Looks like I'm not the only one who's nervous.

Travis then used something to keep the door held open and moved out of the way to let the two delivery men through the door and into the back. I slowly began to sip my Coke while I kept my eyes on the TV situated in the corner closest to the hallway. I watched the pattern of the two delivery men bringing their kegs into the bar through the hallway exit, disappearing into the back, before turning around to go outside for another load. Ten trips. Twenty kegs total. That's a lot of beer for this small town bar. Shit, it would be lucky if the bar patrons could finish three in two days, let alone ten for a regular weekend. It wasn't even a holiday, but it was game day. Football games in the south rivaled church. You simply didn't miss a day – or game for that matter.

Looking around, I wondered where the hell Travis went. It'd been forty-five minutes and my ice had already melted. A few cheers erupted around me as the game finally began and the Longhorns took the field. Perfect timing.

I weaved my way past the cheering fans, whose eyes were glued to the cheerleaders on the screen, to the long hallway off the side of the bar, and towards the illuminated exit sign. I passed Boyd and slyly slid my palm across his shoulders as I walked behind him. Something seemed off as I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

My mind seemed to lose focus and kept rewinding to the other day, watching Bobby and Seth interact with each other. Like it was going to be the last time I would ever get to see or be a part of something that wonderful again. Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I forced myself to focus on the job at hand.

I blinked at the sun's blinding light as the door swung open again and one of the delivery men in coveralls came through. Keeping my head down, I brushed past him, and quickly pushed open the door to the 'Lil Cowgirls Room', stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. Keeping the door cracked open about an inch so I could get a peek into the storage room diagonally across the hall. The same room we found the weapons in from our previous visit to this bar. The delivery guy scanned up and down the hall, looking around suspiciously, as if he were doing something wrong and not wanting to get caught, before he finally disappeared around the room's corner and out of sight.

I was going to have to get closer.

Standing there for a few minutes, I waited to make sure no one was coming before easing the bathroom door open. After double checking up and down the hall to see that no one was watching, I crossed over to the door that led into the back. Keeping my body hugged up against the wall, I started slowly moving down towards the room where we had found the guns stored in before. It didn't take long before I could hear them.

Their voices were muffled by the sounds of the game and the men screaming at the wide receiver, who had apparently fumbled the ball, but it was still easy to distinguish them from the rest, mainly because of the heavy, Spanish accents filtering through the crack in the door. From what I could see, the kegs were surprisingly empty upon arrival, instead of full. The lids looked different, too. Like they were screwed on and didn't have the normal spout for a tap. This wasn't your normal beer keg delivery after all.

I held my breath when I saw Travis open the crate on the far side of the room and begin to dismantle the weapons. The men in the room had positioned themselves to set up a little assembly line, with Travis at the crate separating the guns, then handing them down the line, ending with the familiar faced guy, who was arranging them into the now lidless keg. Where the hell had I seen that man before? It took me about a minute as I stood there watching them dismantle guns and pack them away in the kegs before I remembered. He'd been one of the civilians standing outside the homes in the neighborhood from the Alamo Heights bust by the DEA. Oh shit. He'd been under our noses almost the whole time and we'd missed him.

Ten kegs down and ten to go.

Pain exploded in the back of my head as I felt the blunt end of something connect with my skull. It'd been fifteen years since I'd last felt that kind of pain in a shitty, rundown trailer in Georgia. Before the blackness closed in on me from all sides, I saw the evil, sneering smile of the second suspect we'd watched here at the bar weeks ago with Travis. Where the hell had he been this whole time? I hadn't even realized he was here. How stupid of me. I vaguely heard him ordering the others to strip me down.

My last thought before I lost consciousness was, Dag-gum, I'm in serious trouble.

Bobby

"Two men. Bluish coveralls and baseball caps. Jesus, they could be the start of their very own bar joke. 'Two men walk into a bar—'" Declan snickered into the comm.

"Can it and finish the damn ID," Jaxon snapped.

"Make that three men," Chase spoke quickly in my ear. "He always forgets the driver."

Declan kept going as if he hadn't heard them. "Does anyone else have a bad feeling about this? I mean twenty kegs for this hole in the wall? It only had the two taps that I saw the other night and they weren't even the good kind. Shitty beer is a travesty."

My mind was racing and wouldn't slow down. My ability to control it was gone the second Belle had walked into the bar. My instincts were telling me something wasn't right. The hairs at the back of my neck were on end and my insides felt like they were tied up in about a million knots. When we were together in Georgia and I was in the presence of that asshole of a father Belle had, I used to get the same feeling. That kind of internal alarm that screamed danger was in the room. Right now, it was back with a vengeance, making me sick to my stomach.

Forty-five minutes passed before we saw anymore movement. By then, it felt like my head was going to explode with anticipation. I watched silently from the trees as the delivery guys started to bring presumably empty containers back out of the bar. They marched their hand trucks up the small ramp and into the truck. The sounds of them strapping them in echoed off the metal walls of the vehicle. They disappeared back into the building and once again we waited to see what they would do next.

My angle of sight wasn't the best if I had to take a shot for any reason because of how the truck was parked, but it was good enough for surveillance purposes. The door opened again and two men came out. The taller delivery guy was holding the smaller one's waist and helping him into the truck. Accident on the job by the looks of it. All twenty kegs were strapped in and ready to go. The three men quickly jumped into the truck and left the parking lot with a small dust cloud following them. It was all very anti-climactic after working myself into such a snit.

Only a few minutes had passed before I heard Jaxon over the comm. link, "Boyd's checked the bar twice. No sign of Belle anywhere." I felt the blood drain out of my face and my heart started to pound away in my chest. Then Jaxon barked, "Shit. He found her clothes."

Fuck protocol. I saw nothing except red as I jumped up from my secure position and ran towards the bar searching for Boyd. He should have had her back! A partner always had your back. Where the fuck had he been? I felt two sets of arms drag me backwards before I even made it to the door.

"Belle's missing, Bobby! Beating the shit out of Boyd isn't going to find her," Chase hissed into my ear. "Calm down, brother. Get it together. I've already activated the tracking devices."

I glared at the door as Boyd stepped through with Jaxon and Riley. The three were locked in a heated argument as to why Boyd couldn't go to Mexico with them, if that's where they were headed to get Belle. There was a reason the ATF had contracted the help of the Ex Ops Team. This was one of the many scenarios for why our group was needed. Boyd had no jurisdiction, nor the means or training to slip in under the radar like we did. Belle's partner wasn't liking being shut out like this, but then, he didn't have to like it and none of us had time to sit around to hold his fucking hand until he felt better about the reality of the situation.

"Back to the hotel. Pack and gear up. We lift off as soon as we can figure out where they're going," the Commander growled out. He gave jerky nods to my detainers as they forcibly turned me and shoved me towards the truck.

I exploded. "FUCK! I knew something wasn't right, Dec. How the fuck am I going to explain this to my son? Tell me what the hell I'm going to say to Seth!"

Planting his hands on his hips he growled back, "You don't. Tell him, you and Belle are going to be out of town for a few days for work and have the Sheriff keep an eye on him. Don't make the kid worry until he absolutely has to. Keep him out of it."

Without second guessing myself, I pulled the comm. link out of my ear and placed the phone there. Hearing only one ring before the Sheriff's voice answered sharply, "What do you want?"

I took a deep breath to calm my out of control heartbeat and chaotic thoughts.

"I need a favor..."
Chapter

17

Annabelle

"You spoke the truth, she is very beautiful. With long, blonde, curly hair, creamy skin and delicate features, she looks... cómo se dice? Girl next door? Or is it all-American girl?"

The heavily-accented voice broke through the unnatural fog in my head. My eyelids were too heavy to open and I couldn't remember where I was or who the voice that had been speaking belonged to.

"And you say she showed up with the ATF when they found the shipment in Alamo Heights?"

A string of rapidly spoken Spanish answered his question, which sucked because I'd failed that class and couldn't understand a lick of what was being said. My SAC had always told me it was going to bite me in the ass for not taking the time to learn the language when we lived close to the border. It wasn't so much a bite in the ass I was worried about now, but a bullet to the head. The one word spoken I did understand was enough to scare me shitless.

Because it was a name. Rivera.

Flashes of hazy memories started rolling in. Going to the Big Bull Bar because our source had tipped us off the shipment there would be moved. Sneaking into the back area of the bar where I'd watched as Henderson helped others break down the rifles to store them into empty kegs. Then feeling a sharp pain to the back of my head before everything went black.

Waking up disoriented, I realized I was lying on the floor of the delivery truck. I watched one of the men arguing with a Border Patrol Agent who was shaking his head no and pointing a finger at me. My kidnapper said something to him that made him pale considerably before the agent held out a shaking hand that was quickly filled with a thick envelope and he turned to hop out of the truck.

As I watched the agent leave, I started struggling against whatever held my arms and legs immobile. Screaming against the gag duct-taped to my mouth. Thrashing about to make as much noise to attract as much attention as possible. Hoping another agent, who wasn't obviously dirty, would hear me before we left. It seemed like only seconds before a needle was shoved into my arm, the plunger pushing a burning liquid into my body, then a sudden rush of fire spreading through my veins, enveloping me until a feeling of floating euphorically had taken over. I have no idea how long I laid there, high as a kite on God knows what, watching the men talk around me as if I were a piece of trash they couldn't bother themselves with picking up.

I should have known at least some fear when it became obvious to me that some of what they were saying and laughing about was me. Their leering looks started to linger longer and longer as they licked their lips and wiggled their tongues out at me in blatant taunting. One going so far as to whip his dick out and shake it in my direction as the others laughed at his antics, but with whatever they'd given me working its magic, I had not a care in the world. Eventually, there was the nothing except blackness washing over me again.

When I woke up, I was more than likely somewhere outside of Matamoros, Mexico; in the hands of Miguel Rivera. One of the most powerful drug lords in the world. To hell with shaking in my boots, I was so scared that I was shaking clear down beneath my skin to my dag-gum bones. I needed a miracle to get me out of here alive. Hopefully, that miracle was going to come in the form of some bad to the bone men who took on hostage rescue missions just so they wouldn't get bored. I absolutely refused to die here and leave my son behind, wondering what had happened to his mother. Sure, it was comforting that he had Bobby now in his life; if anything did happen to me, he wouldn't be alone in this world. That didn't mean I wasn't going to fight tooth and nail to stay alive and make it back to my boy. All I had to do was survive until the Ex Ops Team could come and get me.

My eyelids felt like they had fifty pound sandbags on them, but I finally managed to drag them open. When my eyes adjusted to the dim environment, I saw something that made me wish I'd kept them shut. I was looking down at my naked body. My tangled hair hung over my shoulders, covering parts of my breasts, but my legs were spread and secured so nothing was left to the imagination. After this, I may never shave down there again.

Knowing there were at least two men in the room looking at me, I tried to move my hands, wanting to cover myself up, and found it impossible to do so. That might have been caused by the fact that I was tied hand and foot to a cold metal chair. Shit, I was in serious trouble here.

Men's laughter echoed through the small, dark room and I knew those asshats were laughing at me. Glaring up at them from beneath my lashes, I recognized one of the men who'd taken me from the bar. He was the same man who'd whipped his dick out and waved it at me in the truck as if it was a privilege for me to see it. Regardless of my shitty circumstances upon remembering that sight, I'd realized it was definitely not a privilege. He'd give a whole new meaning to the words 'tiddly bits'.

Standing next to him was another man who was looking at me with a small smile on his face. His dark, exotic, good looks paired with the confidence he was oozing, probably made him a woman magnet. I, on the other hand, was repelled. Underneath the abnormally handsome exterior lurked a monster and, at the moment, that monster was looking entirely too pleased that I was tied down, helpless, and completely vulnerable before him like a sacrifice.

Please, God, send Bobby to save me soon.

"Our little American girl looks scared." Turning his head to the other man he asked, "Do you think she should be scared, Luis?"

Luis's response of a smile was pure evil. "Si, Senor Rivera."

Miguel Rivera reached above his head to pull on a string, causing my eyes to go temporarily blind with spots as a bright light bulb flashed on. As I blinked furiously, trying to clear my sight, he stepped closer so that he was within reaching distance of me. Not good. My muscles locked down in anticipation of whatever he was about to do. I only had to stay strong for a little while and Bobby would come for me. The micro trackers were in the guns that had come with us; they should know exactly where I was. I'd lived through my own personal hell growing up, surely I could survive this.

His hand reached out slowly, tauntingly, to caress a strand of my hair. "Pretty little ATF Agent, what is your name? I need one to give your government when I tell them you are dead. It shall be their warning to stay out of my business from now on."

I locked down the sob of fear that threatened to escape from my chest at his declaration. He was already planning to kill me? What else should I expect, though? This was a man who had sent his thugs to rape, murder, and destroy any and every person or village that had tried to stand in his way during his expansion. Why should I be any different?

With a surge of anger I jerked my head away from him, trying to pull my hair out of his slimy touch; loathing any part of him had come into contact with a part of me. If I made it out of here alive, I was going to give myself a disinfectant shower of the likes this world had never seen before. The Lysol Company would have nothing on me.

Rivera laughed at my bit of defiance. "Such a fiery spirit for one who is at my mercy. It is good for you that I like a woman who fights back. It makes things... interesting." All of the humor drained from his face and it was then that I was given my first up close look at what a psychotic madman looked like. Eyes that were a warm, light brown with subtle hints of green were so cold they almost looked demonic, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What is your name?" he growled.

I sat there quietly, refusing to answer him, waiting for the repercussions of my action. I didn't have to wait long. His hand flashed out to crack against my cheek, sending my head flying roughly to the side. Damn, he'd hit hard. The only time I'd been hit harder than that was the last night I'd seen my father and ended up fighting him off by knocking him out with the whisky bottle. My face throbbed as I looked back to him. Letting him know, as much as I could by looking him in the eye, that I refused to be broken. I almost wanted to laugh at him really. The irony that I'd been pushed around and damn near beaten to death half of my life gave me a backbone of steel against this kind of attack. If he wanted to stand around, slapping me, thinking he'd get his answers, then he had another thing coming.

Rivera held his hand out to Luis, palm up, and wiggled his fingers at the man, silently beckoning for something. Luis responded by pulling out a large hunting knife from a sheath attached to his belt and handing it to his boss. The shiny metal seemed to gleam unnaturally bright in the light, taunting me with the threat of injury. Was it wrong to start praying that if he was going to kill me, he would do it quickly?

Rivera pressed the tip of the knife on the skin below my left eye and it took everything in me not to flinch, which would make the situation worse. Dragging the knife down my face, the deadly point pressing hard enough to leave a mark without actually breaking the skin, his voice crooned, "All of this pretty, white skin. Unblemished. Wouldn't you like to leave it that way?"

The further down the knife traveled—over my jaw, down the side of my neck, over my collarbone until it stopped over my heart—it pressed harder into my skin. By the time the knife had stopped moving, he'd broken the skin with a shallow cut that had blood beading up to the surface. The rush of adrenaline and fear coursing through my body caused my skin to feel hyperaware, so when the first spot of blood dripped down my neck, the movement felt more like a gushing waterfall to me in my panicked state, instead of the measly drops that were actually trickling down.

All the fear in the world wasn't going to change that I was giving this man nothing. Not my name, not even the first letter. It was likely going to be the death of me, but at least I would die knowing I'd honored my job, and it's training, by sticking to my guns, keeping my silence. Rivera's jaw ticked in agitation and then he tsked at me like I was a silly, adolescent, school girl.

"How very stupid of you, little American girl. Perhaps you think I will not really hurt you."

The knife slashed sideways, cutting the skin on my chest above my breasts open. A shocked scream echoed through the room and it took me a second to realize through the burning haze of pain radiating from shoulder to shoulder, that the agonizing scream had come from me.

"Look what you made me do." Waving the knife in front of my face, he heaved a bored sigh. "I do not wish you to be messy like this. Messy toys are not fun toys for me. Now tell me what it is I wish to know."

Whatever kept me tied to the chair cut into my wrists and legs as I tried to lunge at my tormentor, screaming in fury and wishing with everything in me that I could claw his eyes out of his head. "You're not getting my name, you piece of shit!"

Metal flashed again as it arched down towards my legs. The slash ripped open the skin on the top of my right thigh, cutting deep through the tissue almost to the bone, spilling blood freely down my leg and onto the floor. I managed to stifle my scream of agony by clenching my teeth, causing my agonized cry to sound like a half growl, which was semi-appropriate since I felt like I would tear him into chunks, like a frenzied wildcat if I managed to get my hands on him.

The adrenaline surge that had come with the newest cut started to ebb away and my head dropped backwards to rest on my shoulders, and I stared at the filthy ceiling that matched the filthy floor, while trying to get a hold of myself.

"How righteous you must feel. So very proud of yourself, I see. Willing to take whatever I give you to show that you will be the good agent and not give anything away, just as they trained you to, I'm sure. I wonder... Luis, bring our little ATF Agent a visitor. The one we enjoyed time with yesterday should suffice."

There was a buzzing in my ears, drowning out the world around me. My breathing was ragged, labored and painful from the anxiety that was closing in on me. Making my chest tight, too tight. Pulling in air was next to impossible and my vision was beginning to haze over. Any other time in my life and this anxiety—as my mind tried to pull in on itself—would have been beyond terrifying. Instead, it was a blessing to escape the horrendous nightmare around me.

That blessing quickly vanished when a slap to the face rocked my body and head to the side. Loud hysterical cries filled the room, but they weren't mine. Forcing my head to look in the direction of the noise, the sight that met my eyes brought a fresh wave of terror over me. A young woman was on her knees, held there by Luis's hand roughly holding her head so that her body was arched backwards. My heart broke because she was young. Too young. Probably fresh out of her teens, no older than her early twenties, and entirely too inexperienced in life to have to endure whatever hell she'd endured here.

There were a lot of things that fell under the 'too' category for the girl. Too skinny. I could count every bone in her chest all the way down to her jutting hip bones. The only spare flesh she seemed to have on her body was the little bit of fat that consisted of her breasts and buttocks.

Too scarred. Bright, fresh, red scars overlapped older pink or white ones all over her body. Some were raised and puckered, as if she'd been cut too many times to count by a knife and then poorly sewn up. Other scars were finer and almost strategically placed, as if done in a pattern by a whip or flogger.

Too broken. Those green eyes of hers were dead and empty as she looked back at me. She might be sobbing, but it was a practiced reaction to whatever it was that she knew was coming. The heart and soul of the woman had long since died and fled its captor. All that was left was the physical shell that hadn't weakened enough to die yet, but wasn't far from it.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this girl was proof Miguel Rivera had, in fact, expanded into the human trafficking business in some manner. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever she'd somehow managed to survive, I didn't want to go through.

Rivera stepped into my view of the girl. "Let's see if you are still willing to stay silent when it's an innocent person being harmed for your lack of answers, eh? Or will you play the hero to save her?"

Rivera went to stand in front of the girl, but maneuvered himself, the girl and Luis so the three of them stood in profile in front of me. He unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, barking something at Luis as the girl tried to struggle against the hands holding her. Pushing his pants over his hips, the exotically beautiful drug lord transformed into the hideous beast he truly was by taking his dick in hand, using his other hand to pry the struggling redhead's lips apart, and then shoving himself so far down her throat she was forced to gag as her airway was cut off.

Repulsed and horrified by what was taking place, I turned my head and closed my eyes to block it out, but the monster wouldn't let me.

"Ah, ah, ah, little agent." His words grunt-like from his ongoing actions. "If you do not keep your eyes on us, then I will give her a new cut for every minute you look away."

Reluctantly pulling my eyes upwards, I forced myself to watch the atrocity being performed in front of me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch this poor girl be abused for the sake of keeping my mouth shut. The sounds of her choking, being used, were going to haunt me until the day I died. Opening my mouth to shout my name and stop this, I didn't get the first syllable out before the room's door slammed open behind the trio.

Please God, let that be help.

Help hadn't arrived, though. Another form of hell apparently had.

Rivera and his thug took one look at the amazon beauty that stood glaring at them from the doorway, hands fisted on her shapely hips, and then dismissed her. It seemed surreal to have her standing there, looking like she'd just come from a lady's luncheon, when in reality she was interrupting the type of brutal assault that probably took place here every day.

The woman seemed furious as she rattled something off in Spanish that I'd never have a hope in hell of understanding. Her hands were waving around in the air as she yelled at Rivera, pointing at him and Luis with the poor girl still struggling between them. The two men were still blatantly ignoring her and, since I'd decided to focus on the dark haired brunette woman dressed in a finely tailored navy blue sheath dress instead of the atrocity, I caught the look that flashed across the woman's face as she looked at all of us before her. Despair. She might be furious at Rivera, but she was more upset about the girl being used and the two men were oblivious to it.

She yelled something at Rivera again and he seemed to snap. He lunged for her, grabbing her by the hair roughly, and she started to struggle as he dragged her over towards me. All of this felt like a scene from some horror movie I would cover my eyes from, but the horror in the room wouldn't let me look away or close my eyes. He pushed the once perfectly coifed woman to her knees inches from me and laughed. His pants were still hanging carelessly around his hips, but the look on his face as he pulled the woman's head back as far as it could bend said this was business as usual for him. He could care less about exposing himself in front of us like this because he held the power and obviously that power got him off.

"What will it be, little American agent? Shall I start with this one now, too, or will you tell me what I want to know?" He cranked the woman's head back farther, laughing when she cried out in pain.

Unable to stomach anymore of the nightmare, a tear slipped down my face. My mind and body were numb from what I'd seen so far and probably from the blood loss, too. Going through interrogation training in a classroom and living through it were two different things. Slice me up like a piece of meat, I didn't care, but what they were doing to these women, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Annabelle Roberts. My name is Annabelle Roberts." My breath hitched as I pleaded, "Please stop hurting them now."

Rivera smirked. Shaking the woman he was holding, he snarled at me, "Do you know who this is Annabelle? This puta is mi esposa. My wife. The mama of one of my hijos." He wrapped his free hand around the front of her throat and squeezed, cutting off her airway and screams. "She thinks that because she birthed me a son, she has the power to tell me what to do." Looking from his wife to me, he asked, "Do you think I care about my wife enough to let her boss me around like I'm some weak, little, errand boy?"

I shook my head as I watched his fingers tighten on her skin. Digging into the fragile windpipe brutally. At this point, I would do almost anything to make it all stop. Between what they'd done to the tiny redhead, who was now softly weeping in the background, and Rivera's wife, I couldn't handle anymore. Sitting here, tied down and defenseless, bleeding from my cuts, and unable to help them in any way, was killing me.

"Such a smart woman you are, Annabelle." He moved his hand from her throat where an angry red mark was left behind and used that hand to grab her chin. "In fact, I grow tired of this wife. She forgets how easily a woman can be replaced to give me sons."

His hands jerked her head quickly in two directions, as a loud pop filled the room, and then he let go of his wife, whose limp body fell sideways to the floor. He'd snapped her neck. His own fucking wife and the mother of one of his children, and he'd snapped her neck like he was a spoiled, little boy who was tired of playing with a toy. Fresh despair washed over me as I stared down at her body in a state of shock. Her body had fallen close enough to me that her face was now laying in a small pool of my blood and the sight of it turned my stomach, causing me to gag.

A sharp slap to the face brought my attention back to Rivera who was now standing next to me, staring down with a cold, deadly smile on his face. "We go back to our game, Annabelle. You will watch what Luis and I do to our juguete, or I will start carving her up in small pieces to feed to my guard dogs. Once we are finished, you will finish answering my questions or I will continue carving on you."

Then I watched in a numb state of terror as the two men did things to the young woman that would scar me for the rest of my life, much worse than the cuts on my body ever would. 
Chapter

18

Bobby

"The signal has stopped and held position for the last hour just south of Monterrey. It looks like we're heading into an area outside of the Cumbres de Monterrey. It's a national park outside of the city. I have a hard time believing they'd keep guns or drugs stashed close to an area with high civilian traffic." Chase scratched his chin as he looked up from his laptop screen. It was his tell when he was in deep think mode. "You think they're making a temporary stop?"

Riley didn't bother to look up from where he was concentrating on double checking his weapons and gear to make sure he was ready when the chopper arrived to pick us up, which should be any minute. The man was basically OCD about checking, rechecking and quadruple checking anything and everything on his person before he left for a mission. "I agree. Rivera may be ballsy, but he's not going to stash his merchandise that close to a national park, or the city of Monterrey for that matter. Even if he's bought some people off on the local Police Force, there's no way he could buy off the entire department. It's the second richest city in Mexico. They're not desperate for drug money and more interested in making a name in big busts. A bust on Rivera would be the stuff dreams are made of for those guys."

Belle had been missing now for seven hours. I'd had to call Sheriff Jenkins to track down Seth so I could stay with the team as we started planning her extraction. It grated my nerves to have to ask the man for help when it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he'd be more than willing to do anything to lure Belle away from me, but Teagan wasn't here and I didn't know who else to turn to for help. There was also the seriously sad fact that the man knew my son better than I did. All feelings aside, I knew I could trust the man to find Seth and keep him safe until I could bring his mother home.

Not much planning had been done since we were flying blind with little to no information about Rivera's personal home or life. Given the nature of his business, plus his fanatical obsession of staying one step ahead of law enforcement, the information on his Cartel probably covered only a fraction of what he truly had going on. Which was frustrating as fuck since the thought of my girl in the hands of those sadistic bastards was driving me completely insane.

Chase pulled up satellite imagery of the signal's location as the other seven men of the Ex Ops Team voiced their thoughts on what they thought Rivera and his men may, or may not, be doing while Jaxon stood there analyzing each of us. I didn't have anything useful to say, so I stood there silently plotting Miguel Rivera's slow and extremely painful death in my head as I stared at those satellite images. Looking for the perimeter's weak spots, pin-pointing the area's best spots to avoid due to a break in coverage by the trees; scrutinizing every single pixel dot on the screen, looking for the thing that could help me get my girl back.

Though, there wasn't much to see other than a sprawling house with a smaller guest house a couple of hundred feet away from the main residence, presumably for his personal guards and house staff, and then trees. Lots and lots of trees. Those trees would help give us cover as we snuck up on the house, but it would also help conceal any of Rivera's men who were guarding the house.

At least the pictures gave us proof this wasn't a worst case scenario. This was no compound for the Cartel. There were no high walls to scale or guard towers for lookouts. If anything, it looked like one of Rivera's private homes. On the plus side, we wouldn't likely be dealing with a hundred or more armed thug-like soldiers attempting to play G.I. Joe while we were trying to get Belle out alive. On the down side, we would more than likely be dealing with Rivera's best men because those would be the ones he kept closest to himself for protection. Depending on how well those men were trained, going up against the wannabe army the Cartel had might have been the easier option.

I was so anxious to get going and get the hell out of there that I was damn near twitching from my toes to my trigger finger. The need to do something, anything, to go get Belle and bring her home safely was riding me so hard it was a miracle I hadn't gone ballistic on everybody yet. I didn't want to hear their theories right now on what they might think may, or may not, be happening outside of Monterrey. I wanted to hop on the chopper, fly down to Mexico, put a hole in the center of Rivera's head, maybe chop him up into a billion tiny pieces to make a point to any other man who thought they could take what was mine, and bring Belle home in the safety of my arms where she belonged.

Fuck everyone's theories on whether or not they thought this was a temporary stop at the signal's location. That's where the trackers stopped and my gut told me that was where Belle was. Fuck their worries about what would or would not be there when we arrived. I'd blow a hole through every man in Rivera's army if it got me Belle back. I didn't want to hear their bitching. I wanted to leave. Like right fucking now.

How the hell could I have watched the truck with my woman in it drive away and do nothing to stop it? The very soul that belonged to her should have screamed at me something was wrong. I should have known she was in that truck and in trouble. Self-loathing and rage were boiling like an acid underneath my skin.

"You paying attention, Baker?" Jaxon barked. I looked over to where he was standing by the private hanger at the airport that Uncle Sam had rented out for us to rendezvous at in case of an emergency. Thank God for Uncle Sam and his never ending back up plans. "We need your head in the game here. I know you're worried about her, but you're more of a risk than an asset if you can't concentrate on what's going on."

I glared at my Commander. Did he think he could hold me back from going with the team when it was, in essence, my life that was on the line here? Belle may be the one who's being held hostage, but if anything happened to her, I would cease to exist. Reverting back to the shell of a human being that had been walking around for the last fifteen years without her. No way was the team going to leave me behind.

"My head is exactly where it needs to be, Sir."

Jaxon scrutinized me from head to toe. "If I think for one second you will jeopardize this mission... I. Will. Pull. You. Do you understand me? I don't care if she's your holy fucking grail, you will be with this team every step of the way or I will hog tie you myself and leave you behind."

It grated on my last nerves, Jaxon threatening to pull me from the mission. How would that jackass feel if it was his woman on the line? It irritated me even more that he had a point. I had to keep my head straight to not put any of us in danger. "You won't be leaving me behind and I'm not a risk to this team. I'll do whatever you say, but I'm going."

Jaxon studied me for another minute or so before nodding his head in acceptance. Turning his head to take us all in he barked like a drill instructor, "Listen up! We're taking these choppers five miles outside of that signal's location where they will drop us off and then circle the perimeter at a safe distance. You have the coordinates of our rendezvous point and our target. The goal is a quiet extraction. We're not Rambo here, boys. The mission is to rescue Annabelle Roberts, not blow this place sky-high. That being said, take out anyone in your way and, if you happen to lock cross hairs on Miguel Rivera, you take his ass out. Once we have secured the package, we'll head back to our rendezvous point with the chopper and bug out. Any questions?"

Silence was his answer. The rhythmic thwump-thwump-thwump of a Black Hawk's blades drew the attention of all of us in the hanger, standing there silently to watch as it landed. Jaxon gave the signal for us to load up and, for the first time in seven hours, I took in a real breath.

Finally. I was going to get my girl and God help anyone who got in my way.

Annabelle

If I was still here when Rivera came back, I was a dead woman; which meant I had to find a way to get out of here. The monsters had just left, promising to come back soon, and leaving the broken, crying, strawberry blonde in a heap on the floor. She was covered in their sweat, spit and semen, but that was nothing compared to the reality they'd raped her so badly she was bleeding out of two of the three body parts they'd used. The only thing that terrified me more than having watched what they'd done to the poor girl was the promise that I was next.

I'd rather die.

There were a couple of problems with trying to escape. The first was that I was still tied hand and foot to this metal chair. That wouldn't have been so bad if it had been something simple they'd tied me down with, like duct tape. That could have easily been ripped off by the girl. However, I had finally figured out they'd secured me with zip ties, and I'd figured that out because the dag-gum things had cut into my skin pretty badly during my struggles. The ripped skin above my hands and feet were also now throbbing in agony with the rest of my body, as well as bleeding, but not as badly as the large cuts on my chest and thigh that were still oozing blood at a steady rate. Which was problem number three. Too much blood loss and I was already getting hazy and weak from it. If I didn't find a way to get out of here, and soon, I wouldn't be getting out of here at all. My only hope was still lying on the floor like a lifeless rag doll.

Finding the strength to keep my head up and eyes locked on the body lying there, I croaked, "What's your name?"

She gave me no answer.

"My name's Annabelle. We're going to find a way to get through this together, honey, I promise. Now what's your name?"

A sniffle sounded, then another sob. Still no answer.

Even though I knew it was useless, I was still pulling at my bonds like a madwoman. Wiggling around in my chair in the hopes a miracle would happen and I would suddenly be free. On a frustrated huff I begged, "Come on, you've got to talk to me. We can help each other get out of here."

"You're wrong," she whispered. "No one ever leaves here unless they're being sold to another buyer or dead. There is no escape."

"No, honey, you're wrong. I'm sure none of the girls you've met were trained ATF Agents, right? Well, I am. And I refuse to die in this shit hole. Trust me, tell me your name, and let me help you get the hell out of here!"

She finally lifted her head and aimed her tortured, tear soaked face at me. "You're ATF?"

Nodding, I said, "YES! I am and, if you'll come over here and help me get free, then I can see about getting us out of here."

She feebly pushed herself to her hands and knees, too weak to do much else, and started crawling towards me; cringing when she came close to Rivera's dead wife's body, making sure not to touch it as she passed. "You promise to take me with you? PLEASE. I can't take another day of this. I want to go home and see my sister."

My heart broke in a million pieces for her. How these men could do the vile things they did to anybody at all, I would never understand. How they could do them to this woman, who was so fragile, was even worse. "I'm taking you home just as soon as you tell me your name and help me get out of this chair. Promise ya, honey I'm going to do my best to get us the hell out of here."

Fresh tears rolled down her face. "Laura," she whispered. "My name is Laura."

Relief and a surge of hope crashed over me. That was one small step, the next thing she would need to do would be closer to a leap across the Grand Canyon. "Okay, Laura, I'm going to need you to look over Rivera's wife's body and see if she has anything that could cut through my zip ties. You do that, and then we can leave this place and never look back."

I thought for sure the girl would balk at touching the dead body, break down and tell me that she couldn't do it. To my surprise, she frantically started to pat down the former Mrs. Rivera's body, looking for anything that might help us.

"There's no pockets or anything!" she screamed in mounting frustration.

"Shh... You're going to have to keep quiet, Laura. Be thorough. Look under her clothes to make sure."

Laura tore open the dead woman's shirt to expose a see through lace bra, but no hidden weapons. Sliding her hands down the body, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and jerked it up to expose the corpse's legs. Still nothing.

"It's useless!" she wailed. "There's nothing. NOTHING!"

I tried not to let my disappointment crush me, but it was hard. I completely understood why Laura would sit there, crying hysterically at the dead woman's weaponless body. I wanted to do the same damn thing, but when she started throwing wild slaps at the now half naked corpse, I realized that I'd have to figure something else out, quickly, before she completely lost what little mental sanity she had left.

Starting with the floors, I scanned the room. Covering every inch with my eyes, looking for something, anything, that could be used to help us. After precious minutes lost, I knew, without a doubt, there was nothing and moved my eyes along the walls. Scanning them from top to bottom. Over and over again, on every wall, in the desperate hopes there would maybe be a picture frame left behind, but nothing again. The only thing that was in the room besides a hysterical young woman, a dead body, and me was this stupid metal chair I was tied to and the light.

Wait. The light.

Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to kiss the person who'd first claimed there was light at the end of the tunnel. I might not be in a tunnel, but it was close enough.

"Laura!" I hissed.

She didn't hear me over her own rambling and the steady slaps she was landing on Mrs. Rivera's body. "LAURA!" I excitedly screeched. She abruptly stopped and looked at me. Nodding my head towards the dangling light bulb, I whispered, "Take the bulb out and break it on the ground! Use a piece of the glass to cut the zip ties!"

Jerking her head back, she looked at the light bulb and then, on unsteady legs, climbed to her feet. Moving underneath the light source, she stood on her tippy toes and reached with the tips of her fingers, coming nowhere near the bulb. Then she started jumping up and down trying to reach it, but her fingers only skimmed the bottom, causing the bulb to start swinging around on its short chain. She couldn't reach it at all. And there was only one thing in the room that would help her reach it. My chair.

"Come here, grab my chair, Laura, and pull it over to stand on."

Dragging me and the chair physically took a lot out of her, but she somehow managed to do it. When she had me placed right under the light, she looked down to the chair's only free spot to stand and the color drained out of her face. It was the bit of seat exposed between my spread legs, with my blood all over it. Knowing she was mortified for both of us, I tried to soothe her.

"Don't worry about it, honey. Do what you got to do to get us out of here. Be careful not to slip on my blood. I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself."

Turning my head to the side, she placed her hand gently on one of my shoulders, one of her feet on the seat, and pulled herself up using my body as leverage. My upper body was racked with fresh pain since she was inadvertently pulling on the skin and flesh attached to the large cut across my chest, but I managed to hold the scream of pain in my head so I wouldn't scare her. She acted as if the heat from the light bulb was nothing, quickly unscrewing it, immersing the room into darkness, and then carefully climbing off the chair.

"You want me to break this and then use it to cut your arms and legs free? What if I cut you?" Bless her heart, she was actually worried about that.

A hollow laugh slipped out of me. "You can't cut me any worse than he already did, Laura, and this is our only hope. Just do it. Don't worry about me."

A few seconds later I heard glass shatter somewhere behind me. Holding my breath in anticipation, suddenly her hand was there. Reaching out tentatively in the dark as she waved it in front of her, she patted the air until she found me. She made contact with my shoulder and then used her fingertips to trace it down my arms until she reached the zip tie that held me bound. As she started to saw frantically with the piece of fragile glass at the plastic keeping me captive, I didn't even care that she was cutting me to shreds. Freedom was a beautiful pain.

Bobby

Thank the sweet baby Jesus for bug spray. Since it was eleven o'clock at night, the flying dinosaurs the natives here called mosquitos were out in full force. Even with most of my body covered in our standard black BDU's, with nothing except my head and hands uncovered, those buzzing, little bastards seemed to be circling us like sharks in bloody water, looking for the inch of skin one of us might not have covered in cloth or bug repellant. I had enough on my mind, the last thing I needed to worry about was malaria or dengue.

We were spread out from each other in small groups as we traveled over the rugged terrain, navigating ourselves through the dense forest of pine and oak trees, towards the house that still had the tracker signals pinging their location. Jaxon had paired himself off with me, probably worried that I was too emotionally involved to keep a level head on what we were doing. He couldn't possibly understand that because I was so invested in what was going on, my head had never been clearer. There was no leaving Mexico without Belle. End of story.

Lights from the house came into sight, approximately three hundred feet in front of us, and suddenly I was hyperaware of everything; the nocturnal animals scurrying around in the tree branches above our heads, the bead of sweat trickling down the back of my neck until it was absorbed by my shirt, the soft sounds of my controlled breathing as we continued to advance on the house.

As we came up to two hundred feet from the house, I heard the sounds of at least two men laughing somewhere over to my left. A softly whispered, "I got this," over the comm. link by Arturo was followed by the sudden silence of that conversation. No shouts of warning from the men who had been speaking. No violent, thrashing sounds of struggles. One minute they were talking and the next minute they weren't. Arturo Chavez was one of the best snipers the Marine Corps had ever produced, and that made him a scary motherfucker.

Approximately fifty feet to my far right, I heard another voice that was echoing through the empty forest from up ahead. Whoever the man was, he was angry and yelling, only no one was speaking back to him, so he was either talking to himself or on the phone. Logan whispered, "Mine," and, a few seconds later, there was the soft thump of a body hitting the ground and then silence. Logan Price's sniper skills were the reason he'd been recruited out of the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. That close to his target the shot would have been like child's play for Logan. Not challenge at all.

The team was a well-oiled machine. By the time we were a hundred feet from the front of the house, the smaller teams started peeling off until we surrounded it; analyzing the possible entry and exit points and watching for more guards who could pose as potential threats to us. The house was a two story monstrosity and the small windows at the base of the house, next to the ground, indicated there was also a basement. My guess was that was where Belle would be held.

All in all, the house was easily eight thousand square feet; including the basement and the massive garage set on the left side of the house. That was a lot of area to search. The only good news seemed to be it was plainly visible, through the windows, that the house utilized a roomy, open floor plan, making it easier to search while we were going through it; less places for people to hide in order to surprise us. That meant there weren't that many places for us to take cover if bullets started flying.

The best plan would have been to slip into the basement first, but the windows that lead to it were too small to fit our bigger bodies. Even Belle wasn't small enough to fit through them, which meant she had no means of escape. The first and second floors were lined with large windows, making it impossible to stay unseen by anyone who happened to be walking by. Not to mention, we were approaching a house that was surrounded by security lighting, had a vast, unknown floor plan, and an unknown number of hostiles inside.

Speaking slowly into the comm. link, I said, "We're going to have to cut the power. It might tip them off that something's wrong, but it's the only way to really level the playing field."

"Agreed," Jaxon murmured. "Who's got the electrical box in sight?"

"That'd be me," Riley answered.

"As soon as you determine it's safe to do so, you are to cut the power. When the lights go out boys, we're going in. Get your thermal imaging ready. We clear every room in this place until we find her. Eliminate any threats and detain any civilians. Give us a countdown to black, Sullivan."

"Roger that, Sir."

Silence resumed over the comm. link for a few minutes before we saw him move. A flash of shadow sped across the short distance of lawn from where he'd hidden in the trees, to out of sight on the back side of the house. Clearing this house was going to be difficult, but doable. Each man on this team was practically a one man army. We'd all been through far worse; like Afghanistan and the insurgents there who strapped bombs to women and children, then sent them walking in our direction as a surprise attack. Compared to surviving things like that, this should be a cake walk. I positioned my goggles on my forehead so they were ready to slip down over my eyes when it was time.

My girl was probably scared shitless, but she was a fighter.

"Five."

I was going to go in there and probably find her kicking ass and taking names.

"Four."

Then I was going to take her home and talk her into marrying me.

"Three."

This was just a small speed bump on the road to our happy ever after.

"Two."

If all of that was true, why did I have this awful feeling like I was on the cusp of the end of my world?

"Go time."
Chapter

19

Annabelle

I wasn't exactly sure who was holding who up, but together, Laura and I were somehow managing to stand in an upright position by the door. My hand was resting lightly on her waist, while her hand was holding me in a death grip, as if she still didn't quite trust me not to leave her behind and make a break for it on my own. I pulled my ear off the door to our room, where I'd had it held for the last couple of minutes, listening intently to the other side for any kind of noise. Noise meant movement and movement meant danger to us. So far there'd been no noises and I was hoping that meant there would be no immediate danger once I opened this door.

I leaned back into her body whispering, "When we leave this room, stay glued to my side."

"Okay."

"Do you happen to know where we are in the house? I was unconscious when they brought me in."

"We're in the basement."

"What else do you know about the house, Laura?"

"We don't want to go left. It leads to more rooms like this. They put you towards the end of the row of rooms, so if we go right, it leads us through what they call the lounge area, which is pretty big. Like the size of a small house. After the lounge area, on the far wall is the stairs." Her voice cracked. "I haven't been up those stairs since I've been here."

"How long have you been here, honey?"

A sniffle, followed by her tearful, raspy voice, "I don't know anymore. I lost count sometime after I reached a hundred days."

My heart broke for her all over again. How in the hell had she survived this place for so long? There was no time to dwell on that right now, though. Someone could come back at any time. We had to leave now. I didn't know how much longer I would be able to stay conscious with all of my blood loss. Frankly, I had no idea how she was standing upright at all. I could feel the weakness of her body under my hands as we held on tightly to each other and I considered it a miracle she was alive at all, let alone standing somewhat on her own.

"Let's get you out of here then." Her hands clenched a little tighter in response. My hand felt around the door until I found the knob and my adrenaline kicked into high gear. This was it. Turning the door knob agonizingly slow, I pulled it open at what felt like a millimeter at a time until bright light spilled through the crack. Laura was so still behind me that I doubted she was even breathing. That was until her anguished voice sounded.

"They didn't even lock the door. How many times have they left the door unlocked, knowing I was too stupid to escape?"

"You're not stupid, honey. They beat you down until you didn't know any better. You're a survivor. Remember that. You ready?"

"More than you can know," she whimpered.

"Okay, here we go, girl."

Pulling the door open a bit more quickly this time, I opened it enough to stick my head out and look down the hall to the left. It was empty in the direction she had indicated we shouldn't go, with nothing to see except closed doors to a row of several rooms. Knowing what those rooms were for now, my body gave an involuntary shudder. Turning my head to look in the other direction, I saw it was laid out exactly like she had described it.

After two more closed doors in the hall, there was a large, brightly lit, open area—perhaps twelve hundred square feet—between us and the stairs on the far wall. Although, I don't know if I would have compared it to a small house like she had. It reminded me more of a gentlemen's club.

There were a couple of small stages with shiny metal stripper poles adorning them. In front of those stages were a number of plush looking couches, and there was even a long bar off to the side. Strip clubs had never bothered me before. In fact, I'd been to one for a fellow agent's bachelor party because the guys had all thought I wouldn't have the balls to show, but the sight of this was enough for me to see red; wishing I could burn this whole place down on my way out. Unfortunately, getting out alive held more priority than exacting revenge for countless, nameless women who had suffered on those stages and in this basement.

Looking back to Laura, I whispered, "We're going to hug the wall until we get to the end of the hall here. Then, you're going to wait while I take a quick look around to make sure we're alone. When I deem it's safe, I'm going to jerk your hand and we're going to haul ass running to those stairs. When we get to those stairs we have to tip toe up them as quickly as we can. Once we reach the top, I'm going to stop us, ease open the door and stick my head out to see if we're clear. From that point on, you're going to have to pay close attention to what I tell you to do since we don't know what's up there. You with me?"

She nodded her head instantly, no hesitation whatsoever, and transferred her grip on my hip to my hand. She squeezed it so tightly it was amazing she hadn't broken a bone. I wasn't going to complain about her crushing hold since the pain it was causing seemed to clear my head of the remaining haze I'd been suffering from whatever drug they'd shot me up with in the delivery van. With everything that had happened in the room, I'd failed to notice I wasn't quite even-keeled yet, but I was coherent enough to look for danger and run like hell, so that's what we were going to do.

We slipped out of the room, plastering ourselves to the wall as we made the short distance to the end of the hall. Stopping on the very edge of the corner, I popped my head out and took a quick scan of the premises, which was thankfully empty and as silent as a tomb. Yanking Laura's hand with my own, we ran across the open space to the stairs and we didn't slow down until we were at the bottom of that first step. Keeping my back to the wall, eyes on the empty den of depravity in front of me, and the small fragile hand of the other woman firmly locked in my own, we trod noiselessly up the stairs, making it to the top of the tall staircase with no bad guys in sight.

Maybe luck was on our side. Maybe some karmic force had decided we'd had enough. Or maybe God was trying to give us a Holy, 'You Go, Girl.' Whatever it was, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was going to start praying that on the other side of the door, where the first floor of the house was, we'd find a whole lot of nothing, too, and that would mean we could haul ass out of the first feasible exit I could find. For the first time since I'd woken up in the Rivera Cartel's hands, tied up like a calf at a rodeo, I had real hope I was going to come out of the other side of this alive.

Then the lights went out.

Bobby

The silence of my green-tinged world through my thermal imaging goggles abruptly ended when I heard a string of gun fire from another area of the house. Since all of our guns were equipped with silencers that meant one of the team was drawing enemy fire. It hadn't taken long for one of the house's occupants to stumble upon one of us and now it would only be a matter of minutes before the house was crawling with combatants. Not good.

Jaxon and I were clearing the front quadrant of the house, moving stealthily from large room to large room, making sure no one was waiting to ambush us before moving on. We'd moved into our third room, a rather large living room of sorts, when a flash of movement across the room caught my eye. A man, who had been crouched by a door, sprang up as the door opened and grabbed the arm of the person who was emerging from it as a feminine squeal sounded.

That person was Belle, and she was covered in blood.

Why was my woman naked and bloody? There wasn't time to analyze this disturbing new fact that sent my entire body into a cold sweat. The man had his arm wrapped tightly around her throat in a choke hold and shoved the barrel of his pistol against her temple. Jaxon's low curse behind me let me know he was also witnessing the clusterfuck developing in front of us. The only good news here was that he was still unaware of our presence across the room. His focus was solely on Belle as she struggled against him.

"Where do you think you are going, puta? Mr. Rivera has plans for you," he hissed in her ear before bending his head down to lick up the side of her neck. "I bet he lets me have you after he's done. Mmm..."

My gut was in knots at the sight of his filthy hands and mouth on Belle, but I had to keep a level head for a little while longer. Sudden movement from behind the man almost startled me to shoot, but I managed to stop myself in time to watch another woman launch herself onto Belle's captor's back; latching onto his neck and screaming in shrill tones for him to "let her go" as she used her free hand to hit him repeatedly in the head. The man initially flinched at his attack, but quickly moved his pistol from Belle's temple, pointing it over his shoulder in the direction of his attacker's face and pulled the trigger. It all happened so fast neither Jaxon, nor I, had a chance to do anything to help, not without taking the chance of accidentally hitting Belle if we were to shoot. Belle's attempted rescuer had no chance to move before she took a bullet to the forehead, either. Belle, on the other hand, had used the distraction to renew her struggles to get free of the chokehold, stomping on the man's instep and elbowing him harshly in the ribs, but somehow he'd ignored it all to reach over his shoulder and, in the span of a few seconds, end some poor, innocent woman's life.

Belle's screams echoed through the room as she started fighting like a crazed banshee. Hysterically calling out the name "Laura" while trying her best to get free, but was forced to quit her struggles when her captor tightened his arm to the point where she couldn't breathe at all. The taller man was now cursing at her in Spanish, jabbing his gun in anger at her neck, slapping it violently up the side of her head, before digging the barrel into the top, fleshy part of her shoulder causing her to cry out in pain.

"Take any open shot, Baker!" Jaxon's low voice barked into our comm. link.

I didn't like it, but Jaxon was right. The man's enraged rant at Belle was enough of a distraction to take him out before he could make it impossible to get a shot at all by using her as a shield. Between where Jaxon stood, a few feet away from me, and my position, hopefully one of us would get an open shot before it was too late and that asshole killed her. Taking steady breaths, my rifle fixed in my grip, I ignored the world around me, zeroing in on that one spot in front of me. All I could see now was Belle and the man that was cruelly cutting off her precious oxygen supply. He was still yelling at her; oblivious, or possibly uncaring, to her anger and tears. His arm tightened again as he literally lifted her up off the ground, her feet dangling in the air, as he bent his head and screamed something into her ear. That put his head too close to her body for a safe shot.

He pulled his head back as he dropped her body enough for her toes to touch the ground again and I saw her mouth move as she said the word "Asshole." In another fit of rage, the man pulled his hand back, and swung his pistol towards her head again in retaliation. I saw the movement of his arm in slow motion. It moved forward, made contact with the side of her head, then pulled back again as he started to drop it behind her back.

There was my shot.

My finger pulled the trigger. My body shifted slightly as my arm and shoulder took in the recoil of the shot. A sudden silence ensued as the shot hit him in the neck, stopping him mid-word of whatever he'd been saying, and then the silence was shattered by a loud crack. I watched as Belle's body jerked, her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked down to her shoulder where there was now a bullet hole and blood pouring from it.

Jaxon fired another shot into the man's large body as it hit the floor, but the damage was done. Belle was now sliding to the floor as I ran to get to her. There was shouting over the comm. links as Jaxon and others barked out terse commands, but all I could see or hear was the love of my life as she gasped in shock and pain. She gave a frightened scream when I picked her up in my arms, cradling her against my chest.

"Shh... baby. It's me. It's Bobby. I've got you now and I'm taking you home."

Her fingers grasped the front of my shirt as she gave a relieved sob. I started walking away when she yelled out, "We can't leave her, Bobby! We can't! I promised Laura I would take her home."

Agony and sympathy crashed over me in waves at her desperate plea. Perhaps Belle didn't know the woman hadn't made it? "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but she didn't make it."

Belle's head nodded in resignation. "I know, but I still promised to take her home to her sister. Please. Please, get her and bring her with us. I felt her blood splatter down my back when she—" Belle couldn't finish the sentence and gave a small sob.

Jaxon walked past me, headed towards the small body that apparently belonged to Laura. "I got her, Baker. Get her the fuck out of here and back to the secondary rendezvous point. The choppers are already headed there to meet you. She needs medical care ASAP. The Sullivans are waiting outside to give you cover while the rest of the team finishes clearing the house. We're right behind you."

Turning around and heading for the exit, I kept a firm hold on Belle, while trying not to aggravate her wounds. Cradling her carefully to my chest to hide her nudity from the others, since I didn't have anything on me that I could cover her with. "Hold onto me, baby. We're going to book it to the choppers. It might hurt you a little bit because I'll be hauling ass, but it will only be for a little while. Promise."

A slight nod of her head was all the answer she could manage. She seemed too shell-shocked or physically weak to do any more. There was no telling how much blood she'd lost. I didn't have enough medical training to determine that; I needed to get a move on it. For two and a half miles to the secondary rendezvous point, I hauled ass. Declan and Riley had to lead us, since I couldn't free a hand to check my GPS until we reached the Black Hawk that had brought us here. There were heavy footfalls behind us, but I knew they belonged to my teammates because, if it had been a threat, one of the Sullivans would have taken them out without so much as batting an eyelash. Riley was first to hop up in the chopper, and he reached down to take Belle from me so that I could climb up inside myself. He then held her until I pulled down the stretcher from where it had been stored and placed it on the floor of the Black Hawk between us. Riley laid her down gently before stepping away so that I could kneel next to her.

Smoothing her hair away from her face, I asked her, "Give me a rundown of your injuries."

Her voice was a weak croak. "Cut across the chest from shoulder to shoulder, deeper cut down the thigh, and—I'm not one hundred percent sure—but I think I was shot in the shoulder. You'll have to double check that one..."

Snorting at her, I was relieved she was with it enough to crack a joke about getting shot. I shook my head in exasperation. "Anything else we need to know, smartass?"

Giving a weak nod, she said, "Yeah. I took a couple of hits to the head. The first one at the bar knocked me unconscious. They also injected me with something in the van when I came to at the border."

The others finally arrived, loading quickly into the chopper as our medic, Wyatt Brooks, knelt down on the other side of Belle. I would stay at her side to offer her comfort, while Wyatt would tend to her injuries. He was one of the best medics the Air Force had ever produced because of his Pararescueman training. He reached out a hand to take a thermal blanket Riley was handing him as our chopper finally lifted off the ground.

"Let's get you wrapped up before you go into shock, Ms. Roberts." He was in business mode. Taking over, asking questions, and prepping bandages to stop the blood flow. Looking up from Belle's red, stained body, I looked over to the other chopper, where I knew Jaxon was with Laura's body; a body that had once been full of life, dreams and hopes for a future. A person who probably had family that was worried sick over her disappearance and would mourn her loss once they were notified. I looked back to the woman whom I have loved most of my life; the one I was ready to admit still held my heart and soul in the palm of her hands. My emotions overloaded on me at the gravity of her situation. I'd almost lost her again, only permanently this time, and we still weren't out of the woods because we had to get her to a hospital. I had enough medical training to know she was losing too much blood.

I did the only thing I could do while I knelt there, holding one of her hands, and helping Wyatt when he needed it.

Prayed.

Hoped.

And murmured encouragement to my brave girl as she laid there and dealt with her wounds better than I'd seen some highly-trained, special ops soldiers deal with injuries that weren't half as bad. There would be no living if I lost her now and, as soon as we got her all bandaged up and on her way to healing back in San Antonio, I was going to do my best to convince her she couldn't live without me, either.
Chapter

20

Bobby

Twelve hours later at San Antonio Regional Hospital...

With all of the pain medication they'd given her, she'd been sleeping like the dead for the past eight hours after getting the last of her stitches and staples put in. Thankfully the dead thing was just an analogy and not reality. Although, it'd been a close call. By the time the chopper had landed on the top of the hospital's rooftop landing zone, she'd lost entirely too much blood, gone deathly pale, lost consciousness and had a dangerous dip in her heart rate.

It was hard to look at the staples down the top of her thigh and the seventy-some stitches on her chest between the laceration and the bullet wound, but they meant she was alive. That made those future scars some of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen because they were proof she was living, breathing, and still with me.

She gave a low moan and started to stir, so I sat forward in the chair I had positioned by her bed, and held my breath to see if she would wake up. I'd give a limb up, at this point, to see her gorgeous green eyes and sassy smile pointed in my direction, even if it was for a few seconds. Not to mention our son was practically out of his mind with worry and, I was pretty sure, the only thing that would comfort him right now was if he got to see his mother awake and okay. Her eyelashes fluttered as she moaned again.

"Bobby?"

Reaching out a hand to grasp hers, I gave it a gentle squeeze. "Right here, baby."

She turned her head in the direction of my voice and then reluctantly cracked open her eyelids. "God, I hurt. Tell me you killed all those sorry bastards in Mexico."

"We're not sure. When you're up to it later, Jaxon would like you to go through the photos they took of the ones they did take down. See if you can pinpoint Rivera in there."

"Ew... You guys take pictures of dead people?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I asked her, "It works for identification purposes, doesn't it?"

"I guess so." She looked around the room. "Where's Seth?"

"The Sheriff stayed with him overnight and then brought him in this morning to see you. I gave him some money and talked him into going down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. I'm sure he'll be back in thirty minutes or so, unless you want me to call him back up here."

She shook her head. "Let him get something to eat; put something in that bottomless pit of his."

Leaning closer to her, I used my free hand to reach up and cup the side of her face. "Does this mean when I look for a house for us in Virginia, I should find one with a really big pantry?"

I watched her body tense and felt the involuntary squeeze of my hand. "Virginia?"

"Yeah, Virginia. I want us to be a family, babe. Can't do that if you guys are in Texas and I'm in Virginia. I know it's a bit highhanded of me to expect you guys to move, but I'm locked into a contract with Ex Ops for at least the next three years. You, on the other hand, are going to need some down time to recover and, after that, I thought maybe you could transfer to a department there. I'm sure there's one in D.C. or somewhere around the area."

If she hadn't been weak from blood loss and trauma, I'm sure the hold she had on my hand now would have been a death grip that might have ended in loss of circulation to my hand and fingers. She looked scared, yet hopeful, and, although I understood why, I was looking forward to the day when she would no longer second guess our future together because that would mean she no longer second guessed me. Or have doubts or fears I would leave her behind again. With the past between us, it might take a while to work beyond all of that, but I was certainly willing to try. The last twenty-four hours had made me realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, no matter how much she'd hurt me, I'd never want anyone except her.

Her even, white teeth bit down into her bottom lip. She took a hesitant breath and then murmured, "Are you sure, Bobby? We haven't had much time together to make sure this is going to work between us and we have more to worry about now than what happens between you and I. We have to think of Seth. I don't want to get his hopes up this will work and then, one day down the road, you figure out all we have is some crazy chemistry between us, with no real future. That would break his heart."

She thought all I wanted from her was sex? That this was nothing but physical for me? I wasn't looking for a body to fill my bed. I could have that anytime I wanted. No, what I was trying to do here was secure the one woman who was my perfect match in life. The one person I could see loving, that I could see living with day in and day out for the rest of my time here on Earth. The one woman I wanted to see grow round with my children and watch as she told them about the day their father tried to hit on her in our high school cafeteria. How could she not realize she'd owned me since the moment I'd truly noticed her as a woman, so long ago in Georgia? Sure, I'd fucked it all up by acting young and dumb, but dammit, nobody was perfect. Hadn't I already suffered enough for my mistakes? Even with all of the pain between us—her secrets and my mistakes—she was still as fundamental to me as the air my body needed to live and breathe. Her kidnapping and the rescue had finally sunken that into my thick skull.

Taking the hand I was holding, I leaned over her bed until I could place it comfortably over the spot on my chest where my heart lay under flesh and muscle beating for her, without taking the chance of hurting her by straining her stitches.

"This isn't just chemistry that ignites between us. That's a physical action and reaction stuff. What happens between you and I goes way beyond the physical. God! Don't you get it? You've taken over my body! You own it just as much as you master your own. My brain belongs to you because all I ever do is think about you, wonder what you're doing, or if you're thinking about me, too. My arms belong around you in an embrace that conveys how much I wish to hold you until I breathe my last breath. My hands hurt when you're not near. It's like they have a will of their own, they've decided the only time they can unclench and relax is when they're touching you, making sure you're really here with me and not still missing, or one of the thousands of dreams I've had while we've been apart."

"Ever since I met you, even my feet stopped belonging to me and became yours because all they ever seem to want to do is travel to wherever you are. My heart only lives and beats when you're where I can see you. Touch you. Kiss your lips and show you the physical equivalent of how deeply I love you. My soul fucking died after I sent that stupid letter and you disappeared. I've spent the last fifteen years walking around as a shell. Not a living, breathing human, but a robot going through the everyday motions. You were, are, and will always be more than my life. More than my beating heart, or any other physical reaction my body has. You're my everything, my fucking essence. I cease to exist unless I'm with you."

My body trembled. My rant had turned into a shout that had concluded with stinging eyes from the tears I was holding back, a hoarse voice, and a heart that was pounding so hard in my chest, you would have thought I'd stepped off a battlefield of war instead of the battlefield of my emotions. The hope that was shining from Belle's face made the complete dissection of my heart and soul worth it, however. Anything was worth seeing the light of love shining from those amazing, green eyes.

I was so worked up from my spiel, that when she asked me her next question, my brain didn't stop to think, and I fired the honest answer back that would irrevocably change the tide of this emotionally soul sucking war we'd been waging against each other for weeks. Or maybe years.

"Does that mean you forgive me about not telling you about Seth?"

"No."

It was out before I could stop it and I would have given anything to stop it. Anything at all, as I watched the precious light of love and hope she'd shined on me seconds before distinguish as her face crumbled in despair. If she weren't lying in a hospital bed, she would have recoiled from me bodily, but she was stuck and couldn't move away. It didn't stop her from shrinking back into the thin, hospital mattress as far as she could to get away from me. It also didn't stop her from pulling her hand free from my own, where I'd kept it trapped against my body this whole time. I'd literally shocked myself stupid because I couldn't find the words to say in order to fix what I'd done.

She covered her face with her hands as sobs started to rock her body. She turned herself bodily away, as far as she could get from me. Her broken gasps and wailing cries grew louder as I sat there numbly, in a mental stupor, trying to figure out what the hell I'd just done to us. A shrill alarm started to blare in the room, but I didn't register something was wrong until hands clamped down on my shoulders and wrenched me from my chair.

Suddenly, Sheriff Jenkins's angry face came into view and he shoved me across the room towards the door nurses were currently rushing through. All I could hear was the woosh woosh woosh of my blood pounding in my ears while the Sheriff continued to push me out of Belle's room and into the hallway. I finally became cognizant something was wrong when I looked up to see the nurses surrounding her bed. One was injecting something into her IV while the other nurse had ripped off her bandages covering the stitches across her chest and was using clean ones to stop the fresh flow of blood. They were both crooning to her in soothing tones, encouraging her to try and take a deep breath and calm down.

So preoccupied with what was happening at Belle's bed, I completely missed the fist that came flying at my face until the punch landed and, the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on my ass in the middle of the floor. A shadow fell over me and I looked up to find Declan leaning down to grab my hand before hauling me up. The pounding in my ears turned into a manageable buzz after I shook my head a few times. Voices started to make sense again around me, and I heard Declan yelling at the Sheriff, who was now being bodily detained by Boyd.

Jenkins's face was mottled red as he roared back at Declan, "You get that motherfucker out of here right now or, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him. Belle's recovering from blood loss and wounds that damn near killed her and that fuckhead went and said something that caused her to have an anxiety attack so bad she ripped her stitches open, and is bleeding out all over the place again, and she can't even fucking breathe."

Jenkins tried to lunge for me again, but Boyd held him tightly in his straining arms. The look he was giving me was nothing less than a murderous rage, mixed with loathing and I deserved it all.

"I heard what you said to her, you piece of shit, and I promise you if you don't get out of this hospital right this minute, the hospital security will be the last thing you have to worry about."

I glanced back to Belle's room, which was the only one situated at the very end of the hall, as Declan began to tug me backwards. My eye was already starting to swell shut, but I was still able to see the nurses prepping a tray of sterile instruments so they could stitch her wounds closed again. Her face was mostly slack from being knocked out by the medication, but I could still see the strained lines around her eyes and mouth that conveyed her pain and devastation. Bloody bandages littered the bed around her body as the nurse continued to clean up the devastating damage to her that, once again, I had caused.

Declan tugged me further away down the hall as I watched the doctor scramble into the room. What had I done? I'd practically stabbed myself in the back while damn near killing—emotionally and physically—the love of my life and it was all my unforgiving brain's fault.

Teagan was right, I didn't deserve her.
Chapter

21

Bobby

Two months later in Woodbridge, Virginia...

"Yeah, suck it. That's right. Suck. It. Suck it all up real good. Don't miss a drop. Come on, come on, baby, you can do it, suck it dry already."

I instantly regretted letting myself into Declan's house after no one answered the door. 'Cause that kind of commentary was not generally something you wanted to hear coming out of another guy's mouth as you were walking into the room where they were giving those kind of explicit instructions. Especially, when it was the home of one of the biggest manwhores I'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. My buddy's only saving grace was the fact that: A) I could hear the buzz of the shop vac. B) I'd received a phone call from Declan, begging me to help with the clean-up from a flood on the main floor of his house. And C) upon coming into the occupied room where the shop vac buzzed in Declan's hands, I was able to witness the dumbass making ridiculous looking pelvic thrusts while giving his porno like instructions to an inanimate object all while listening to his IPod.

Quickly whipping out my cell phone, I started video recording the big dummy before he noticed I was there. A few minutes later I had several more exaggerated pelvic thrusts coupled with the kind of lines you heard in cheesy porno movies saved for what would certainly be a laugh fest at the next meeting the Ex Ops team had. I felt my lips twitch in what was almost my first genuine grin in several weeks, as I pocketed my phone.

Life had been pretty fucking miserable since coming home to Virginia, which was nobody's fault but my own. The sad truth was, the only semi-good moment I'd had since coming home was the day Jaxon had called to let me know Belle had identified her three kidnappers and Rivera in our pictures of the dead from the rescue in Mexico. The good part, not being that she'd managed to ID them, or that their deaths had officially closed her case, but knowing her tormentors were dead and she was no longer in danger. I could care less that we'd temporarily managed to shut down a leg of the black market arms trade. Some other asshole would eventually pop up to take Rivera's place. It was all about the knowledge the woman I loved was safe. Belle was all that mattered.

The movement of my lips finally caught numb nut's attention and I watched my buddy study me like I was mold under a microscope. "Are you smiling? Holy shit. What finally broke you out of that self-inflicted funk of yours?"

My lip twitch grew a little bigger. "Nothing."

Declan arched an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." Much. Just you acting like a first class moron and that I get to post it on YouTube, I silently added in my head.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever, man. It's good to see you smile. Thanks for coming out to help me. You see this fuckin' mess? It's crazy. That's what I get for letting some blonde babe with knockers the size of watermelons tell me she was an experienced plumber. The pipes under the kitchen sink blew out and this is what I came home to."

"Well, maybe if you picked up a phonebook and called a real plumber instead of trying to beg off a date using the pipes under your kitchen sink as an excuse, shit like this wouldn't happen."

"Come on, man, give me a break. I was trying to get her out of my hair, but the minute she told me she would 'fix my pipes' my brain went into overdrive. That didn't count all the things she said she would do to my 'wrench'." He gave a lascivious smile with his air quotes.

"Yeah, well, I hope it was a helluva pipe cleaning because now you've got this mess." I waved my hand around to encompass the soggy carpets.

Declan sighed wistfully. "It most definitely was one bad ass pipe cleaning; nothing that could compare to Teagan, though. Damn, man, I think I could fall in love with that woman if I ever got to have round two with her. There was this thing she did with her—"

Throwing my hands up in the air in front of me, I yelled, "Oh, hell, no! Nope, don't want to hear it. I played football with the girl. She went through freshman football's high school hazing with me. She was one of the guys to me, not to mention, she's my son's godmother, so I sure as shit do not want to hear about what she can or cannot do. Ever."

Declan groused, "You take all my fun away."

Pointing back to the soggy carpet, I said, "Yeah, well, if this is an example of your kind of fun, then I'll definitely pass on it, bro."

"Yeah, well, I'd pass on your version of fun, too. It involves a future prescription of Prozac."

Glowering back at Declan, I snapped, "What's that supposed to mean, dipshit?"

He gave a mirthless laugh. "You're calling me a dipshit? You're the man that had the American dream handed to him on a silver platter and managed to fuck it all up! All because you couldn't pull your head out of your ass long enough to forgive a woman who you dicked over in the first place. If anyone's the dipshit here, it's you."

Unbelievable. Talk about kicking a man when he's already down. Instead of saying something I would regret later, or doing something stupid like giving him a fist to his face, I turned towards the front door and started to walk away.

"That's right, Bobby. Run away from the problem and go back to licking your self-inflicted wounds. If I hadn't been with you in the jungle and Afghanistan, then I'd start thinking you were a pussy with all this chicken shit you've been pulling lately."

Who needed a best friend? A punching bag was more therapeutic anyways and I had a living, breathing version of one, fifteen feet behind me that I was going to beat the ever living shit out of.

Whipping around to face him again, I roared, "Fuck you, man! You have no idea what this situation has been like for me! I don't see any long, lost loves falling into your lap after hiding a teenage son from you. Until that happens to you, keep your judgmental bullshit to yourself. You have no goddamn idea what I've been going through! If you think I'm over here, loving life, when really I've left everything that ever fucking mattered to me halfway across the goddamn country, then you can take that shop vac hose and you can shove it up your own ass!"

"Oh," he sneered, sarcastically. "I can tell how you're living life up since Texas, Bobby. Even if you hadn't spent the last few weeks moping around like an idiot, it's written all over your face. You're not eating or sleeping, you've lost weight and you look like shit. You're so out of it, half the guys on the team wouldn't want you to watch their six because they're afraid your head wouldn't be on straight during any mission we go on. You're shooting your life down the shitter."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I thought your friends were supposed to be there for you when you were down on your luck. I lunged at him. Barely refraining myself from throwing the punch that I wanted to knock him out with so badly. We were nose to nose now as we yelled at each other.

"I know I'm struggling, asshole! I don't need you to tell me that. I live and breathe it every second, of every minute, of every fucking day that I have to live without them. So why don't you be an understanding friend, know I'm doing the best I can do right now, and be there for me instead of giving me grief I don't need."

He used both of his hands to grab my shirt and shake me with it. "How about, instead of being an understanding friend, I act like a good friend by telling you to pull your head out of your ass? How about, instead of you walking around like a zombie, you get your shit together and fix your fucking life? It's not like the woman you love died in Mexico! She's living and breathing in Texas with your son. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that, if you'd get over your own fucking self, you'd realize you could make this right with your family."

"And how do you expect me to do that after what I said in her hospital room? You got some kind of magic wand shoved up your ass you can pull out, wave around, and give me the perfect way to make it alright?"

Throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, he turned and started to walk away from me towards his kitchen. He made it five steps before he turned around and pointed a finger in my direction. "Maybe I expect you to act like a fucking man, get down on your goddamn knees, and beg the woman you claim to love for forgiveness for being such a self-righteous jackass. I know it's a radical idea, but perhaps, if you apologized, she might forgive you."

The hole in my heart that had been throbbing since getting thrown out of Belle's hospital room in Texas started to throb in agony again. My eyes pricked with oncoming tears, instead of letting Declan see me emotionally defenseless, I dropped my chin to my chest, bringing my boots into view, and blinked my eyes a few times to clear them away.

He made it sound easy. Like I could waltz back down to Texas and do a little groveling to win my girl back. The half of me that had wanted to do just that, weeks ago, swelled with hope. The other half of me, the part that was scared shitless of both being hurt again and hurting her again, tried to pop that bubble of hope with a savage stab of my metaphorical KA-BAR.

I never wanted to hurt Belle like that again in my life. The look of utter devastation on her face as she sobbed so hard she tore her stitches open and started to bleed out in her hospital bed would haunt me until the day they put me six feet under. It was because of that horrific scene I'd convinced myself she was better off without me. If I wasn't around, then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

With a disgusted snort, Declan added, "God, you're such a dumbass, Bobby. I can literally see the wheels turning in that peon-sized brain of yours as you talk yourself out of your own happiness. Stop it already! Get over it, dumbass! You hurt her. She hurt you. Then, you went and hurt her again. Now go down there, offer your cojones up as a sacrifice, then kiss and make up with the woman. Don't look back, Bobby; look forward. The two of you obviously love each other. Don't be stupid enough to throw it away, man."

Declan was right. I knew he was right. That wasn't what was in question here. What I was worried about was if Belle would even forgive me. Give us another chance. Because, if she would, I would work my fingers to the bone every day for the rest of our lives to prove to her that I would never hurt her again. I'd bend over backwards, tie myself up into knots, trying to do the emotional equivalent of those crazy ass yoga poses with even crazier names like downward dog, to show her I wanted nothing more than to move on with my life with both her and Seth in it. To live the dream of growing old together. Loving each other morning, noon and night until one or both of us took our last breaths. Even then, I loved her so much I was pretty sure my spirit would follow hers through eternity. Whether in this life or others, if they existed, there was only one woman I would ever love and that was my Belle.

"For the love of God, man, tell me I got through to your ass!"

Nodding my head, I looked up to him. "Yeah, man, you did. Thanks for verbally knocking some sense into me."

"Anytime, bro, anytime. Now, are you going to help me clean this mess up or what?"

"Nope. You're on your own. I've got a mission in Texas to plan."

"It's about goddamn time."

~~~

The next day...

There was too much testosterone in this room. How many guys did they think it took to pack two bags? One bag was already done. The one with enough clothes to get me through up to a week in Texas and a little black box that held a diamond ring. It was the second bag that was giving me some problems. Looking over to the three men in the room with me—Declan, Riley, and Jaxon—I shrugged my shoulders at a loss of what to do.

"I want to take her for a picnic to surprise her, but I don't know what I should take for it."

Riley raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You think she's going to go with you willingly on this picnic?"

That was a good point. With the way things had been left last time I'd seen her, there was no telling what her reaction to me showing up would be. Pursing my lips in consideration, I said, "Getting her there isn't the problem. Seth's helping me with that. My boy is even taking care of the Sheriff so I don't have to do something drastic because he pissed me off. Like shoot him. It's making her stay still long enough not to grab a gun and shoot my sorry ass that I'm worried about. Think I should pack the paracord in case I have to tie her up and make her listen to me?"

Jaxon hesitated for a second before he said, "Annabelle was kidnapped and held hostage not too long ago. Maybe tying her up isn't such a great idea."

Shit. He was right. How could I not think of something like that? Before I could respond, Riley piped in, "I don't think you have to worry about her listening to what you have to say, man. If I were you, I would be worried about whether you keep your nads by the time you're done talking. Your girl is a bit of a firecracker. Take the paracord anyways, though. If the Sheriff tries to get in your way after all, you can tie him up instead of shooting him. I know you hate his guts, but Annabelle may never forgive you if you kill or maim one of her friends."

They nodded like bobble heads in agreement. Declan's lips twitched like he was trying to hold back a laugh. "The rope may be thin, but I recently used it on a brunette after she broke into my house and tried to sexually assault me in my sleep. It'll hold the Sheriff where you want him, if you use it right."

"I don't even want to know the story about the paracord and the woman, Dec. Sometimes the shit that happens to you is too disturbing for words." I tossed the small bundle of thin rope into my bag along with the mini-Maglite it had been lying next to the drawer.

Jaxon curiously rumbled, "What are you taking the Maglite for?"

"It's a nighttime picnic. Just like we used to do back home in Georgia by the creek."

His eyebrows furrowed. "The Maglite is good, but it's not going to light up the whole area for you. That's a rookie mistake, you should know better."

Now my lips were twitching. "I'm not going to use it to light up the whole area, Commander, only the ground as we're walking, so we don't trip."

Jaxon asked, "You're going to forego light and lay there in the dark? No candles or anything? That doesn't sound very romantic."

I shook my head. "No, way. Candles would ruin it."

The three men stood across from me, confused now. Finally, Riley asked, "Ruin what exactly?"

Holding two fingers up in front of me, I answered, "First of all, the stars wouldn't seem as bright and my girl loves to see the stars. Second, I'm taking a set of night vision goggles with me. That way when I talk her into getting naked, I can put them on and not miss a thing, but she'll have to rely on all of her other senses to pay attention to what I'm doing to her. I get a naked, green-looking Belle and she gets what I want to give her. What more can a man ask for?"

This got me amused, male chuckles before Declan asked, "What else are you going to pack?"

Rubbing a hand across the back of my neck, I looked down to some of my standard issued gear. "I don't think she'll want MRE's to eat at a picnic."

Riley rubbed a hand over his mouth while he thought about something. Somewhat absentmindedly, he murmured, "Strawberries and whip cream." He had that faraway look in his eyes he got when he was thinking about his ex-wife, Kara.

"Thanks, man. That's a good idea. I can pick them up from the store before I see her."

Jaxon added, "Champagne would be good with that."

Scoffing back at my commander, "Are you nuts? We don't drink that prissy shit." Glancing down to my canteen I got an idea. "But I could take this and put some Southern Comfort in it. It would certainly help her to unwind so she doesn't try to cut my nuts off before I do what I got to do."

"You're going to need something to lie down on the ground with her on. Pack your old Army field blanket," Declan added.

"That's wool, you moron! You want us all chaffed up after I get done playing Marco Polo with my night vision and her body parts?"

Riley started coughing to hide his laugh. Declan and Jaxon didn't bother to hide theirs. "Then take your thermal blanket and lay it on top of the wool one. Then you can play slip and slide while you get sweaty with her."

Damn. That was a good idea, too. Images of getting sweaty with Belle bombarded my brain, causing all of my blood to drain south. Suddenly, I was so hard my dick practically felt strangled behind the zipper of my jeans. If I didn't get a move on, I was going to embarrass myself in front of the last people on earth I wanted to see me in this condition.

Stuffing the two blankets in the bag with the other stuff, I watched as an industrial-sized box of condoms landed on the top of the pile. Looking up, I saw Declan grinning unrepentantly. "Be like a boy scout and be prepared, right? I think you'll want to get her to an alter before you knock her up again."

Jaxon ignored the horn ball in front of me and asked, "You got everything you need, now, to go down there and bring her back?"

Pulling the folded up envelope out of my back pocket, I held it up and in front of me. "This is the last of it right here."

"What is it?" Riley asked.

Waving it back and forth a little bit, I answered, "This is the letter she should have had all along."
Chapter

22

Bobby

Five hours later at San Antonio International Airport...

If one more TSA Security Officer patted me down, I was going to start killing people. Just because a guy was a little nervous and jumpy, did not mean he was a terrorist carrying a bomb. At least, not a bomb of the physically exploding variety. I was, however, carrying an emotional bomb in the form of an expensive shiny rock attached to a little gold band. If this went badly, it could end up making me the equivalent to an emotional suicide bomber. Because, if she said no, I was going to be blown away to nothingness.

I was standing at the luggage carousel, looking for my bag with the picnic supplies in them, when I felt a presence stop next to me. Looking over, I instantly started to regret listening to my son about this part of the plan. Giving the irritated man a polite nod and a mumbled "Sheriff" as a greeting, I turned my attention back to the sight of luggage rotating round and around, in the hopes mine would show up very soon. The quicker I got my luggage, the quicker I got the hell out of this airport, which also meant I would be one step closer to being rid of the man next to me after he dropped me off at my destination. Would it be possible to ignore him for that long?

"You better not be dicking her over again, Baker."

Well, I guess that was my answer to the ignoring question. Apparently not.

My luggage finally came into sight; I reached over, plucked the bag off the conveyer belt, and then turned to start walking towards the exit. The Sheriff stayed with me every step of the way. Why, oh, why, had my son thought having this douchebag give me a ride would be a good idea?

Maybe Seth had been lying to me all those weeks ago when I'd poured out my heart and soul to him on the phone and apologized for having hurt his mother and, by extension, him. Perhaps this was a form of punishment from him for what I'd done and said in the hospital before leaving Texas without so much as saying goodbye to him. If that was the case, my boy had a mean streak a mile wide.

Sheriff Jenkins and I managed to make it to his SUV without saying another word, but after he unlocked the vehicle and we climbed in, the gloves were off. It was time to nip this shit in the bud. "Let's get something straight here, Jenkins. I fucked up. I understand you're a good friend of Belle's and, I also know you have feelings for her in more than a friendly capacity. The fact of the matter is, though, I don't owe you an explanation. I owe her one. As well as an apology. However, in the name of starting over with a clean slate, I'll at least give you this; I love that woman more than you will ever be able to even fathom. I have every intention of making things right between her and I. I've lost too much time with her as it is. I'm ready to do whatever it is I have to do to make her realize how sorry I really am and put the past behind us. That's all you really need to know. I'll make sure she sends you an invitation to our wedding, though." I gave him a shark's smile, practically daring him to say something else.

The muscle in his jaw tensed before he looked away from me and started the engine. I almost breathed out a sigh of relief. Not that I was seriously worried the Sheriff could cause trouble for me with Belle, but I didn't need any more problems than I already had. Until I was face to face with Belle and she had agreed to hear me out, I was walking a fine line between nervously on edge and going totally postal. Between now and then, I was going to be praying for a miracle.

Annabelle

My kid was going to drive me nuts.

"Tell me again why we have to go to Victor Braunig Lake? It's six o'clock, Seth. It'll be dark soon and I'm already tired."

"Because you need to get the hell out of the house, Mom."

"Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap? You only dropped the occasional cuss word before, now that you're talking to your father on a regular basis it seems like I'm having to tell you daily to watch your mouth."

"You can't blame Dad for my vocabulary. It's half your fault too, and I thought you were happy I was talking to Dad so much?"

Hoo-boy. I'd stepped right into that minefield, hadn't I? "I am happy about it, son. It's good you have him in your life now. You can talk to him every day if you want, just please don't talk to him about me. Not until I'm ready to talk to him myself."

"I haven't told him about the baby, Mom," he murmured. After a brief span of silence he asked, "But you're planning on telling him soon, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Waiting these past few weeks is long enough. I don't want him to think I'm trying to hide this baby like I hid you from him. It's a miracle this baby even made it through Mexico, so I'm hoping he'll be happy about it."

Shaking my head absentmindedly, my mind drifted back to the day, three weeks ago, when I'd found out I was pregnant. It was mid-afternoon and I was hunched over the toilet for the fifth day in a row, puking my guts out with Seth hovering behind me, holding my hair. He was complaining about he didn't understand how I could possibly puke so much when I hadn't been eating. The next thing I knew, he was on the phone with Charlie, asking him to come over, telling him that he was worried I had some kind of infection from my wounds because I was sick and throwing up everywhere.

I was still praying to the porcelain god when Charlie showed up out of his mind with worry. He'd promptly taken one look at me before stating, "Darlin', you look like shit," and then commenced cleaning me up with a cool rag before laying me back down on my bed. He shushed my protests when he lifted my shirt up to peel back the bandage there and check. When he didn't find anything wrong there he checked the bandage down the front of my thigh. The staples had been removed and replaced with smaller stitches last week, but that wound was clean and infection free as well.

Not knowing what else to look for, Charlie asked what my symptoms were. I told him I was fine. I'd only been sick to my stomach for a few days and it was probably a stomach bug of some sort. By the look on his face, my friend didn't seem convinced. Charlie studied me for a few minutes before he mentioned I looked as if I'd lost at least fifteen pounds and asked if I was depressed. I shook my head, then a pensive look crossed Charlie's face, and his eyes seemed to grow weary. When he asked me next if I was pregnant, he paid no attention to Seth's gasp, who was now hovering at the end of my bed and waiting for my answer.

At first I was too shocked to answer him. Then I denied the likelihood because, really, what were the chances of me not having a miscarriage after what I'd endured in Mexico? However, the longer I'd thought about it, the more memories from Seth's pregnancy came back to me, and the more it made sense. One pregnancy test, bought later by Charlie, complete with two faint little blue lines, and I had my answer.

For the second time in my life, I was having Bobby Baker's child. Only this time, I would do what I should have done the first time. I would let him know about the impending bundle of joy. Or at least, I was hoping with all my heart he considered this baby a joy. No matter what had gone wrong between the two of us, this baby should be loved unconditionally. While I was worried about his initial response, a part of me knew he would undoubtedly love any child of his own, even if he couldn't forgive the child's mother for her past wrongs.

Pulling myself back to the present, I took a quick glance at my son to see he was watching me intently. "I'll call him tomorrow, honey. I promise. We're pulling into the Lake's entrance now. Where am I going?"

"Go park over by the far end where the picnic tables end, towards the dock."

There wasn't another vehicle in sight, the lake and the park around it looked completely empty. This could end up being a peaceful outing for my frazzled nerves. Pulling the truck over to where Seth had indicated and parking it, I turned to question him. "So, what are we going to do now?"

Rolling his eyes, he opened the truck door and hopped out. "Come on already, it's a surprise."

I got out of the truck and followed him as he started walking in the direction of the far end of the lake. The sun was starting to set, casting a gorgeous gradient of colors across the sky from orange to purple. The wind was blowing gently off the calm lake waters, making the leaves sway on the trees around us. My curiosity for my son's adamant demands we come here today were finally dying down. I was starting to relax, assuming we were here to walk around in the fresh, crisp, autumn air, when I spotted a blanket laid out on the ground with a bag sitting on it.

Putting a hand out to grab Seth's arm I stopped him. "Someone's already over here. Let's turn around and walk the other way so we don't disturb them."

"That blanket is for you, Mom."

Shooting a confused look at him, I asked, "How could that be for me?"

That's when he stepped out from behind one of the trees near the blanket. "Because our son helped me plan a surprise picnic for you."

My heart dropped to somewhere around my toes and my lungs ceased to work. With the way he'd broken my heart two months ago, I should have turned around and walked away without a word. I knew, without a doubt, I couldn't take another blow to my heart like that. Yet, I couldn't seem to move my feet away, or take my eyes off him for that matter.

He looked a bit ragged with dark circles under his eyes and five o'clock scruff on his face. I couldn't be sure since he was naturally a big, buff guy, but he might have lost a few pounds, too, because his face looked a tad leaner. Besides that, he still looked like the heart-stoppingly handsome man who invaded my dreams every night. He was wearing those jeans I loved so much, the ones that hugged his thighs a little bit and cupped his perfect ass, with a plain white t-shirt on top, and I damn near drooled at the sight of him. Of course, that he looked so good only reminded me that I did, in fact, look like utter shit.

Dropping my hand from Seth's arm, I smoothed my now sweaty palms down the front of my thighs, and managed not to cringe when my hand pressed a little too hard into my left leg's stitches. Bobby was slowly looking me over from top to toe and, the longer he looked, the more tense little lines seemed to appear around his mouth and eyes.

My stomach suddenly felt like it was doing cartwheels and I had to take a few deep breaths to try and stop the nausea that was trying to bubble up my throat. Why in the world did doctors call it morning sickness? They should have named it 'All-damn-day' sickness instead. Now was definitely not the time to toss cookies because of the growing peanut in my belly, either. Wouldn't that be wildly romantic?

"What are you doing here, Bobby?" My voice cracked, revealing how nervous I was.

"What I should have done fifteen years ago."

"Huh?" I asked, totally confused as to what he was saying.

"I'm here because I've finally come back to get my girl."

Seth started backing up. "I'm going to go over by the picnic tables 'til Charlie gets here to pick me up."

Bobby held his hand up to stop him as he walked towards me. "Wait a minute, Son. You deserve to hear this, too." Dropping to both of his knees on the ground right in front of me, he grabbed my hips when I went to take a step back from him, and held on tightly. "Please, give me a few minutes to hear what I've got to say."

It was unnerving, considering my circumstances, how his face was right there, next to my belly, where his child lie, and he had no idea. It made me feel uncomfortable and more than just a little bit guilty about not having told him yet, but his eyes looked almost tortured as he pleaded with me, so I ignored my discomfort and nodded.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, baby. I was wrong and hypocritical. We both made mistakes, but you were good enough to forgive me of mine. I was an ass to not forgive you of yours. I'm tired of thinking, If I could only go back and change this... because I can't. I can't undo leaving you in Georgia, just like I can't undo my pigheadedness here in Texas." The breath seemed to hitch in his chest and I watched as his eyes grew watery before he blinked to clear the tears away. "What I can do is say, I'm sorry. I feel like we've overused that word these past few months, but it's the truth. I am sorry. I also forgive you. I'm hoping you're willing to forgive me again, too, because I meant everything else I said in your hospital room. I can't live without you, Belle. If you're not around, it feels like there's no reason to wake up every day. You seem to be the reasoning and motivation for everything in my life and I want that back. Say you'll give me another chance, love. Please?"

Tears were streaming down my face. My nose was running. I probably looked like a red-eyed, puffy-faced, hideous nincompoop. Yet, none of that mattered because all I could think was if this was real, it was like a dream come true. What scared me the most right now was that it might not actually be real, but in fact a dream. So I reached over and pinched myself hard in the fleshy part of my arm and yelped in pain right in front of Seth and Bobby.

Bobby quickly grabbed the hand I'd used to pinch myself and looked at me like I was certifiable; which, at the moment, I was feeling anyways.

"Babe, what did you do that for?"

Wiping my eyes and then the snot running from my nose away with my free hand, I laughed. "I had to make sure I wasn't asleep and this wasn't a dream. It seemed too good to be true."

A slow smile spread across Bobby's face as he tightened his grip on my hips and pulled me closer to him. My thighs were touching his chest now. His head tilted back to keep looking me in the eye. "This is not a dream, sweetheart. This is very real and I'm asking you for another chance at our long ago planned happily ever after. What do you say?"

I wanted that so badly. More than anything I'd ever wanted besides the children Bobby had given me. I had to come clean with him first before I could tell him yes, though. I refused to renew a relationship with him when I, once again, had a secret he needed to know about.

"I have to tell you something first, Bobby."

His brows furrowed, lips turning down at the corners, clearly displeased to not be getting the answer he wanted yet. "It can't wait?"

"Absolutely not. You have to know this before we go any further. I won't have you mad at me for keeping secrets anymore, Bobby Baker."

"What other secrets could you possibly have, Belle?"

God, here it was. The moment where it could all go wrong again. My teeth bit down into my bottom lip in fear and I took one last second to memorize his face in this moment in case it all went south. One last memory to save in case this finally pushed him too far away emotionally for anything to be saved. His fingers flexed into my flesh in impatience, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer.

"Remember the night we played poker with Declan and Riley?"

His frown deepened. "Yeah, what about it?"

I took a big breath of courage. "Remember what happened between us that night?"

His irritation morphed into confusion. "One of the best nights of my life, babe. I'm not going to forget it anytime soon. What are you getting to here?"

Reaching down to grab one of his hands, I dragged it slowly up my body until it laid over my stomach. He looked from my face, down to our hands, and back up to my face again. Clearly not getting what I was trying to hint at here.

"I'm pregnant, Bobby."

He looked dumbfounded now. The color slowly draining out of his face as the hand that had still been gripping my hip quickly snaked around my legs and hugged them tightly. In a shaky voice he said, "You're telling me... when you were kidnapped, you were pregnant?"

Oh, no. Did he think I knew I was pregnant even then and hadn't told him? There was no way I could have known then. I would have only been two weeks along. Terrified this was the beginning of the end, yet again, I whispered with a tear laden voice, "Yes, but I swear I didn't know, Bobby. I swear! Apparently, the San Antonio hospital hadn't caught the pregnancy because my HCG hormones were on the low side. I didn't figure it out until three weeks ago." Babbling now, "I know I should have told you sooner than now, but I needed some time before talking to you again. I was hurting so badly, both physically and emotionally, I couldn't face you yet. That's all. I swear—"

Bobby moved our hands and buried his face into my stomach. His shoulders started slightly shaking and it took me a little bit to realize he was crying. I laid a shaking hand on top of his head tentatively, waiting to see if he would jerk away from me in disgust or anger. When he didn't, I slowly ran my fingers through his short, military cut hair, trying to soothe both of us with the comfort of it.

Suddenly, his head jerked back to look at me, thin streaks of wetness clearly running down his face, and he croaked, "I could have lost you both! And if I had, I would have never known of the gift you were giving me because I was too much of an asshole to be man enough to forgive and be forgiven in return. Christ, I'm so sorry, Belle. Please, tell me you'll forgive me. I can't believe I could have lost both of you."

Framing his face with my hands, I felt my heart beat in double time as it practically exploded with hope and love over this man on his knees, begging me for the one thing I never thought I'd really have. A future together.

My throat was tight, choked up with overwhelming emotions. Still, I managed to push the words out I needed him to hear. "I love you, Bobby. Always have and always will. There's nothing more I want in this life than you and our family."

"Does this mean we're moving to Virginia?" Jumping in surprise, I looked over to where Seth stood a few feet away. His hands tucked shyly in his pockets, as if he were embarrassed to be intruding, and a big smile plastered on his face. Looking back down to Bobby, I realized he looked almost as shell-shocked as I did. We'd both forgotten our son was standing here with us. Dag-gum. You definitely didn't earn the parent of the year award by forgetting all about your kid. No matter how quiet they were.

"I'm moving you guys to Virginia. We'll pick out a house with a big backyard to throw the pigskin in and buy it right away. You'll have to help me paint a nursery, too."

Seth nodded his head excitedly. "I can do that, Dad. No problem. I know you told me to stay and all, but can I go now? Charlie's over in the parking lot waiting... and I figured you two would want some time to..." He waved his hand in the air to indicate both of us. "You know." His cheeks blushed bright red. "Yeah, so can I go now?"

Bobby nodded back to him. "Go on so your mother and I can... you know." He smiled at his son's renewed blush and then we both watched Seth jog away to Charlie, who was indeed waiting in the parking lot. We watched as Charlie's truck disappeared out of sight, and then we were left alone in the park by the lake.

Bobby got up off his knees and dragged me by the hand over to the blanket. "Sit down, babe. You should still be resting." He pushed me gently to take a seat on the blanket and then sat down across from me, stretching his legs out on either side of me so that I was surrounded by him. "How have you been healing?"

"Pretty good. They took the staples out of my leg and replaced them with stitches. I'll have my stitches for a couple of more weeks before they all come out."

"What about the pregnancy? Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"I went to my OB/GYN a few days after taking the home pregnancy test to have it confirmed. She was amazed the baby had survived the trauma I'd endured in Mexico, but she says it looks healthy. I'm two and a half months along now."

"It? When can we find out the baby's gender? I don't like the idea of calling it 'it'."

I smiled indulgently at him. This pregnancy would be a first for him since he'd missed Seth's, and everything was new and exciting. "In about two months they should be able to tell us from an ultrasound."

He leaned forward until our faces were only a few inches apart. "Do you want a boy again? Or a girl this time?"

"I want a healthy baby with ten fingers and ten toes. I don't care what he or she is."

"Me either, babe."

I closed the distance between us and softly placed my lips on his. They were warm, familiar, and too good to be true. They felt like I'd come home. Bobby quickly took the kiss further, slipping his tongue inside my mouth to intertwine with mine, and I quickly got lost in the feel and taste of him. So beautiful. So masculine. And all mine.

When I thought things were about to get infinitely better, he pulled away, leaned back to snag the strap on his bag, and pulled it to his lap so he could start digging through it.

Confused at the abrupt change of plans, I asked him, "What are you doing?"

"Hold on one second. I've got something important to give you." Digging out a folded piece of paper, he held it out to me and said, "It's long past time for you to have this."

Unfolding the paper, I noticed it was a bit dingy looking, as if whatever it was was old and had been handled a lot. Looking up at the top, it didn't take long to realize I was right because it was dated fifteen years ago, about a week after Bobby had sent the letter breaking things off with me. My heart plummeted.

Looking back up to him in alarm, I said, "This better not be another break up letter, Bobby Baker. After everything you said to me, if you are handing me another breakup letter, I will do things to you that most others would consider anatomically impossible."

With a gentle grab of my wrist to the hand that held his letter, he started rubbing slow circles on my skin with his thumb. "Just read it, Belle."

With nothing else to do except take a giant leap of faith, I read it.

Dear Belle,

I'm sitting here, waiting to hear from my parents. Praying they found you and explained that I'm a moron for sending you that letter. I didn't mean it. It was a temporary moment of insanity; just the fear that if I tied you to me too young, you would resent me for it down the road, but I can't let you go, Belle. If you end up hating me later for us getting married so young, I'll have to find a way to make you love me again.

Like I said, I'm sitting here, hoping they found you. My buddy here in boot camp told me I had to think positive. So I've decided, in the spirit of positive thinking, we should write our own vows when we get married. I'm proud that you're going to be my wife and I want anyone and everyone at our wedding to know it. Here's what I was thinking about saying for mine:

'I'm just an ordinary man, but you make me feel like I'm the strongest man in the world. I'm not worthy of the gift of your love, but I promise to work each and every day to become worthy of it. Today, you do me the honor of becoming my wife. To putting on paper with pen and making it official for the world to see what I already know. You were made for me, as I was made for you. With that gift, I promise to always love and cherish you. To be the strength you need when you feel weak. To hold you in my arms and make you feel safe when you are scared. To catch you if you should fall. Be your shelter from any storm. Most importantly, though, I promise to be your faithful best friend and lover from here until eternity.'

I hope you like them. They may be short and simple, but they're from my heart. Hopefully I'll get to hear from you soon. A letter saying you forgive your dumb Army grunt. I miss you so bad it hurts, baby. Please forgive me. Can't wait to see you and hold you in my arms again.

Forever Yours.

Love, Bobby

A small wet drop appeared on the paper from a tear that had fallen off my face and it smeared a portion of one of the sentences. This was instantly the best letter in the history of the world to me. It wasn't poetry pretty like others might be. It wasn't something epic like people read in tales of unrealistic love stories like Romeo and Juliet. No, this was Bobby's heart manifested in short, boxy little slashes that formed words in a letter so beautiful I could read it and see the physical proof of his love and devotion to me. It was perfection.

I heard and felt him move in front of me. When I looked up from his letter to see what he was doing, the sight of what he was holding shocked me all over again. A black velvet box held open in his hand, where a diamond ring was barely visible in the last fading rays of the day.

"Marry me, Belle. You're already my heart and soul; now be my wife."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He slipped the ring out of its box and onto my finger before bringing my left hand to his mouth and kissing the palm of it before placing it over his heart. "Yes?" he whispered.

With fresh tears sliding down my face, I reached up with my right hand and cupped his jaw. "Yes, Bobby."

He released the breath I hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you, baby."

"No, Ace, thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For giving me my happily ever after."
Epilogue

Belle

Two months later in Woodbridge, Virginia...

"You want to name our daughter WHAT?"

I bit my teeth into my bottom lip so I wouldn't laugh at the look on my fiancé's face. It was so sour you would have thought I'd shoved a lemon slice in there while he was talking or something. We were lying side by side in bed, and he was close enough to see my shoulders shake from my restrained laughter, and huffed in mock frustration. "Don't get your boxers in a wad, Ace. What's wrong with the idea of naming the baby after Teagan?"

"I don't know, maybe because it doesn't seem fair to her to name her after such a—"

I slapped a hand over his mouth. "Ah, ah, ah now. You promised to be nothing but nice about her from now on."

He pulled my hand off his mouth and gave me a look like I'd sprouted an extra head. "Uh, yeah, but that was before the message she left on our answering machine. Did you honestly think I could keep that kind of promise after my son heard her call me the wart on the ass of all of humanity?"

I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, but a snort slipped out anyways. When he cocked an eyebrow at the sound, I didn't bother to try and hold back my laughter anymore.

"Find that funny, do you?"

Holding up my thumb and forefinger a half inch apart, I snickered. "Just a little."

He growled. "I'll show you funny, you little hussy." Then he pounced on me, tickling my ribs before pinning me down on my back with his arms and legs. He'd left enough room in between our bodies so he wouldn't lie on the slightly protruding belly I was carrying around these days. "I know we're not married yet, but you should still stand by your man, you know."

Giving him a big grin, I promised, "I'll always stand by you, Ace, but that doesn't mean my best friend won't be standing on my other side."

Bobby snorted. Then, dropping his face until our foreheads touched, he murmured, "I'll let you name our daughter after that harpy on one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"That this isn't our last baby."

Gasping in surprise, I used my hands to push on Bobby's shoulders until I could see his face again. Naturally, with Bobby's size, I wouldn't have been able to push him back unless he let me, but luckily I had a man who wouldn't let me strain myself at all while I was carrying his child. Some days it came in handy like today and some days it drove me so crazy I wanted to bash his head in with a frying pan. "How many kids are you wanting me to pop out, Bobby Baker?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I was thinking we could have our own football tea—"

I didn't let him finish the word before I had a pillow flying at his head, beating him with it repeatedly. "You are not using me as an incubator so you can have a Baker football squad!" Dropping the pillow, I reached for my cell phone on the night stand.

His laughing voice asked, "Who are you calling?"

"Jaxon! I'm going to tell him you're delusional and shouldn't go on any more missions until your head's been straightened out."

One minute I was pretending to scroll through my contacts and the next, the phone was out of my hand.

His voice was neutral when he spoke, "I've already talked to Jaxon today, honey."

The almost somber tone alarmed me. "And?"

"We leave in three days." He was watching me intently for a reaction.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you."

In a small voice, I asked, "Will you be following up about Laura?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

That meant he was headed straight into danger, which I didn't like, but this was his job, which he loved, and I loved him so I had to accept that. After I have the baby, he'd already told me he would support me if I wanted to go back to work for the ATF since I was on an extended leave of absence at the moment, which was probably what I'd do. So I couldn't very well say I wasn't willing to support his job when he was willing to support mine. At least I would have Seth here with me so I wouldn't be totally alone. We could probably take a trip out to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum again in D.C. There was a good chance I had a future pilot in the family.

Not to mention how Laura had died and what she'd suffered through before she'd died, haunted me nightly. The thought other women were suffering as she had felt like a knife through the heart. Thankfully, the guys hadn't found any more women in Rivera's house in Mexico. Laura and I had been the only ones there at the moment. However, they had found signs that plenty of other women had been held there at some point in time. If the Ex Ops Team could help them, then I needed to support that as well.

"You'll contact me when you can, right?"

"Absolutely, baby."

"Okay, Ace. Do what you've got to do to shut those assholes down."

Bending over to kiss me on the lips, he stayed there afterwards so when he talked, our lips were still touching. "That's my girl. Now, I'll make you a deal. You can name this one Teagan if you'll give me at least one more after her."

Well, that was a hell of a lot better than a damn football team.

"Deal."

"Good. Now come here and give me some love."

He wasted no time in pulling down the top of my nightie to bare my breasts so they were now accessible for his touch. Grasping one, he lowered his mouth to trace his tongue around the outside of my now overly sensitive nipple so it puckered up hard as I moaned at the fierce pleasure of it. Sucking it deep into his mouth, he lashed his rough tongue over the peak until I was arched under him from the fiery sensation. His free hand lightly traced circles down my abdomen, adding another sensation in his assault. My hands skimmed over his cut, rock hard abs as he moved from one breast to the other. Shooting a pleasant burn all the way down to the heated core that was throbbing between my legs.

When I started begging for more, he moved down my tummy, to tease me below where I ached. My breath hitched as he circled my little nub, rubbing it so the burning pressure built slowly. When he breached me with a finger, I gasped at the familiar intrusion. It never ceased to surprise me how good he felt when he touched my body. Adding a second finger, he started to pump a little faster as I spread my thighs further apart while pushing down on his fingers for a deeper feel. Bobby's touch was heady, like alcohol shot straight into my brain, making everything fuzzy, warm, and oh, so good.

"I can't wait any longer, babe. I want to feel you. Let me fill that sweet little body up." In one smooth stroke he sheathed himself inside me. His flesh rubbing against mine—skin on skin—to create what felt like thousands of mini lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through my body. Apparently, we'd both missed out on the phenomenon of pregnancy sex the first time around, which was a travesty since it was way more intense than regular sex and I had a habit of barely lasting longer than an eight second rodeo star before having an orgasm that was so off the charts I could swear I was floating in space.

I was already on the edge of that aforementioned spatially, fantastic orgasm. Bobby was pumping himself furiously in and out with my legs wrapped around his hips, locking my ankles low on his back. As I finally exploded with a scream Bobby managed to muffle with a kiss, my toes curled and I damn near lost consciousness. My inner walls clamped down on him so hard that, mere seconds later, I felt his warm release filling me as he gave a guttural yell before collapsing to his side, turning me with him.

Our breaths were sawing in and out of our chests and Bobby had his arms locked around me like he would never let me go.

Touching our foreheads together, he asked, "Who loves you, Belle?"

"You do, Ace."

"That's right, sweet baby. Forever."

Pressing my lips against his, I agreed, "Forever."
Note From The Author

Thank you for reading Secret Maneuvers! You're the absolute best for giving little ol' me a chance. For every Indie Author you read, somewhere out there a fairy gets its wings! Okay, maybe not, but it still seems pretty magical.

For those of you thinking, "WAIT! She didn't resolve all of the issues!" You're absolutely right – I didn't. Some issues will carry throughout the series, while other issues will be resolved immediately in the next book, Stripping Her Defenses. So, keep the faith, and if you're interested in continuing, pick up the next book to see where the series is headed from here after it releases.

I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online retailers or review websites. These are great ways to help spread the word about books to readers who have yet to discover them.

Happy Reading,

Jessie Lane
About the Author

Jessie Lane is a best-selling author of Paranormal and Contemporary Romance, as well as, Upper YA Paranormal Romance/Fantasy. She lives in Kentucky with her two little Rock Chicks in-the-making and her over protective alpha husband that she's pretty sure is a latent grizzly bear shifter. She has a passionate love for reading and writing naughty romance, cliff hanging suspense, and out-of-this-world characters that demand your attention, or threaten to slap you around until you do pay attention to them.

For more information on Jessie Lane:

<http://jessielanebooks.com/>

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