Chapter 1

TWELVE YEARS LATER…

“Hot and sweaty sex, that’s what you need,” said Jamie Lynn, better known as JL, as she threw clothes on Violet’s bed.

“Hot sex. Hot sex.”

“Shut up, Bird!” Violet’s hands were on her hips as she tapped her foot and scowled at her annoying parrot, appropriately named Bird, and at her best friend and roommate, JL. “I don’t need sex. I’m perfectly content with my life.”

“Perfectly content? Boooring,” JL sang out. “There is more to life than ‘perfectly content.’ ” She pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a top Violet had bought months before but never dared to wear. “Oh! This one. This one’s perfect. John will love it.”

Violet loved her best friend, but they were so different. Violet looked like a wholesome Texan girl, complete with freckles and a full head of brown curls; JL looked like a tattooed pixie, complete with short lilac hair. The only thing they had in common was their southern twang and their short stature. “I hope this John guy doesn’t think I’m having sex with him tonight. God, I hate blind dates.” Violet groaned, then asked, “What did you tell him?”

“That my perfectly content, wonderfully hot, sexually deprived best friend needed a meet and greet with little John.” She held out her hands about a foot apart and winked. “I also told him big John was invited to attend the date too. But most important, I told him little John better be ready, willing, and able to take one for the team.”

“Little John,” Bird squalled.

“Ugh! If you don’t shut it, I’m going to cover your cage!” Violet scolded Bird. “And as for you,” she pointed to JL, “I don’t want to meet little John tonight. I don’t even want to meet big John.” Violet scooped up all the clothes that JL had strewn across her bed and began to hang everything back up.

“What are you doing?” JL asked.

“I’m not wearing any of these things. They’re too revealing and too tight. You forget that I’m not a size zero like you.” Violet stopped mid-step, let go of the clothes, and fell back onto the bed.

“Trust me—a little revealing is fine, Vi. And so is a little tight. I assure you, men like your tits and ass better than my bony chest and tiny butt. No offense, chick, but you need a little lift in the wardrobe department. Baggy sweatpants and T-shirts aren’t going to get you laid. And, since when are you self-conscious?”

“I’m not. Not at all. I’m happy with my body, I just don’t want all the goods”—she motioned to her chest—“on display. You know I don’t like to dress like that.” She pointed to a tiny pair of shorts JL had tossed on the bed. “Leave something to the imagination and all that. I’m not looking to get laid. I’m just looking for a nice guy.” She took a deep breath. “God, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Just shake it off, girl. It’s nerves. It’s been way too long since you dated. Speaking of dates, did you get the invite to our high school reunion?”

“Ugh! Yes, I did. I can’t believe it’s been ten years. I don’t know if I want to go see all those pretentious jerks.”

“We’re going. You, me, and Travis. Well, brother dearest doesn’t know I’m making him go yet, but he’s my twin, so he’s expected there too. We all have to go. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. You’re a nurse; I, on the other hand, am a bartender; and Travis is a broke MMA fighter. So, suck it up, girlie, ’cause we’re all going. You have about a month to find a date.” JL placed her palms on Violet’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath.”

Violet followed JL’s instructions.

“Tonight’s just a date.” JL continued, saying, “I was just kidding about little John. He’s not expecting anything more than a fun meal. I’ll be right there and so will half the town. You’ll be at the Pier. I made sure you were at a familiar place, okay?”

Violet closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. JL handed her the clothes.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?” Violet slumped down onto her bed.

“It’s been over three and a half months since your father died. Yeah, maybe that feels soon, but before he passed, you hadn’t been on a date in months. Maybe years,” JL said.

“I have dated. Remember Joe?” She was inside her walk-in closet. “Oh, and Tim. I dated Tim, too. And there was a Tom and a Rob.”

“Do you only date three-letter-named guys?” Her friend teased, and Violet threw an old scarf at her even though she knew JL was just trying to lighten the mood. “Seriously, Vi, those weren’t real dates. You never committed to enjoying yourself. You have to close your eyes and say to yourself, ‘I’m going to try.’ That’s all I ask, that you at least try.”

“Hellooo, John! Date. Tonight.” Violet waved her arms around and then pointed at herself. “That’s me trying.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

“What?”

JL laughed and waved her hand. “Yoda. Star Wars. Never mind. The point is, you better at least commit to two hours and I don’t want to hear anything dumb, like, he chews weird or has an uneven haircut.”

Violet put her hands up in surrender. “Tom really did chew strange!” Violet stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Or was it Tim? Whatever, the point is that the way one chews is a legitimate flaw. I can’t marry a man who talks and chews at the same time, spitting little chunks of steak in my face. Ew! What if one of those little pieces lands in my eye. I could go blind.”

“The thought you’ve put into that exaggeration is really impressive if not disturbing.” Her friend threw the scarf back at Violet. “Come on. Pick something to wear already.”

Minutes later, Violet sat crossed-legged in the middle of her bed applying makeup when JL walked in again, fully dressed to bartend at the Pier. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, no. Are you okay?”

JL playfully smacked Violet’s shoulder before sitting down on her bed and fussing with Violet’s hair. “Maybe the issue is Cain. Have you heard from Cain?” That was not something Violet wanted to talk about and her friend knew it, which was why she brought it up. “What the hell is going on with you and Cain? And before you say ‘nothing,’ remember we’ve been friends for a long time. I know you. We live together. That man has you in knots, and since he left four months ago, you’ve been a Debbie Downer. It’s depressing. You’re depressing.”

“One hundred and ten days. Not four months. Not that I’m counting. I have absolutely no idea where he is. He just vanished.” Violet jumped up and down as she wiggled into her jeans. “But, even when he was here, there was never anything going on with us. You saw how he treated me when he bothered to speak to me. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me. But he obviously does. I’m completely over Cain and his jerkiness. We were best friends and then we weren’t. Plain and simple. My issues have got nothin’ to do with him.”

“He doesn’t say a word to anyone. I’ve been living in Tarpon Springs for years now and since he moved here about four years ago, I think I’ve heard him say ten words. So, the talking thing, it’s a nonissue. It’s got nothin’ to do with you. The jerk thing—yeah, all you, babe. Not sure what’s up with that. He’s not exactly Mr. Friendly, but he’s not flat-out rude to anyone—except with you.”

“Except me.” She agreed.

“Why’s that?”

“No clue.” Violet lay back, sucked in her gut, and closed the top button of her jeans. “He’s always been surly,” she said, breathlessly. “When we were growing up he was always the quiet and introspective one, but he wasn’t the Cain I’ve met here in town. This Cain’s a—”

“A dick,” JL interrupted.

“Dick! Dick!” Bird cawed.

“I love that bird.” JL barked out a loud laugh.

Violet rolled her eyes and ignored her parrot. “Yep. He’s not very friendly. Cain, not the Bird. Actually, both or neither.” Violet shook her head. “Ugh! What I mean to say is both Cain and Bird are not friendly.” Violet let out her breath and put her arms up for JL, who grabbed them and pulled her up. Violet stretched her legs and walked over to the mirror behind her door to look at herself. Normal to large boobs, average waist, biggish butt, and short legs. She was on the voluptuous side of the spectrum. But she liked the way she looked, and so long as she was healthy, she never dieted and never looked at the scale. It had taken her a lot of years of self-loathing, but now at twenty-eight, she loved her curvy body and wore it proudly, her father’s opinion, God rest his soul, be damned.

She turned halfway and looked at her backside and smiled to herself. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that she would never be the same size as JL. The mean girls in high school who had tormented her and made mooing sounds at her when she walked down the hall were cordially invited to kiss her big behind, because she was happy with her tush just as it was, and she seriously enjoyed partaking of her cookie dough ice cream addiction.

“Looking good, sister,” JL said. “I swear I’m going to burn your sweatpants.”

“You think John will like it?”

JL walked up to Violet and playfully eyed her cleavage. “Only if he’s a guy.” She laughed, and Violet swatted her away and adjusted her top so that she wasn’t spilling out of it. “Come on. You’re going to be late for your date and I’m going to be late for work.”

Violet took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and followed JL out of the house. A glass of wine would loosen her up. That’s what she needed in order to get rid of the butterflies in her stomach. She wasn’t so good with dates, and blind dates were the worst.

The evening was hot and humid, as was always the weather in Florida, and it smelled of rain to come. JL chatted during the ten-minute car ride to the Pier, a bar that locals frequented and where she tended bar. The familiar sounds of people talking over one another and cue sticks hitting ceramic balls drowned out the music coming from the old jukebox.

JL pranced over to the bar, Violet followed and sat on one of the empty stools. Her friend had described John as tall with dark hair and a sleeve of tattoos on both arms. She wasn’t really into the whole tattoo thing, but she also wasn’t really into the whole single thing. It had been way too long since she’d seriously dated anyone; JL was right.

Right at seven, the door opened and a tall man matching JL’s description walked in. JL whistled him over to the bar. He had a nice walk, Violet thought. Self-assured and assertive. His smile and perfect white teeth were nice, too.

“John, meet Violet. Violet meet John,” JL said with hands waving as if she were a presenter on a game show.

John pulled the stool back and sat. “So, this is sort of awkward,” he said as soon as JL had walked away.

“You’re telling me.” She laughed.

“Can I just say that I’m very pleasantly surprised? You never know with these blind dates who’ll show up, especially with the way JL described you.”

Feeling somewhat betrayed and a lot hurt, Violet asked, “How did Violet describe me?”

“As nervous, serious, untattooed, but awesome.”

Violet let out a breath. How could she have doubted her friend? Her first reaction was to think that JL described her as her chubby friend. Okay, well, maybe she did still harbor a little bit of that insecurity. “Oh, well. That’s pretty accurate.”

“I was sort of expecting someone out of that Amish reality show, with a long skirt and high-neck shirt.”

Violet laughed. “No, no. I don’t have tattoos or piercings but I’m not an uptight bore either. I mean, you’ve met my best friend, do you think she’d hang out with a judgmental drag?”

John laughed. “No, I guess not.” He gestured for JL. “Hey, JL, can you get me a beer, anything on draft, and for Violet—”

“Red wine, coming right up,” JL interrupted, knowing exactly what Violet drank.

Two drinks and a lovely dinner of bar food later, Violet was still laughing. Almost immediately, he made her feel at ease

Cain hadn’t left Tarpon Springs, Florida, for this long since he’d moved there four years earlier. Since he’d grown up in an army base then enlisted for eight years before retiring, this was the first time he felt he had a home. Right now, if someone asked him why he had signed up with IMC (International Military Coalition) as a contractor, he couldn’t answer. At the time he’d only seen dollar bills: compared to what the U.S. government paid him for risking his life for eight years as an army ranger, it just seemed like the obvious step to sign up and make four times the amount with a private company.

As soon as Cain walked out of the airport, he hailed a taxi to take him straight to the Pier. It was Friday night, and his friends would undoubtedly be there. Plus, he needed a beer…or seven. On his ride over, he received a text from Iggy Mitchell, another mercenary he’d met overseas. Iggy had lost a leg in a tour in Iraq a couple of years ago, and when he wasn’t on a mission from IMC, he worked as a consultant in Tampa, specializing in testing firewalls and other online security threats. In other words, he was a professional hacker. The two men quickly hit it off and they sparred during their free time. Iggy’s hard work and zest for life made the prosthetic leg a nonissue. One evening, Iggy had mentioned how he loved to gamble in a series of underground fights put together by some Russians. The text Cain was currently reading was the address of a fight happening in a few days. Cain wasn’t a gambling man, so he wasn’t interested. He slid the phone back into his pocket and settled in for the forty-five-minute cab ride to the Pier.

It was raining when the taxi arrived. He swung the big duffel bag over his shoulder and looked around the familiar town before he reached to open the front door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Hey, man! You’re back.” It was Tony—his friend, sparring partner, and professional mixed martial arts fighter—whom he helped train a few months ago.

“Cain, honey, so glad you’re home!” Tony’s wife, Francesca, threw her arms around him for a big hug. He wasn’t big on contact and he awkwardly put his arm around her waist and patted her back.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” Tony said. “The rest of the guys are on their way. Do they know you’re back? Where were you, by the way?”

“Libya. Just arrived. No one knows,” Cain replied.

“Libya. Fuck. That’s not safe,” Francesca hissed.

“No.”

“Still quite the conversationalist, I see.” Tony roughly patted Cain on the back.

“Leave the man alone. He just came back from hell and he doesn’t need that attitude tonight. By the way,” she playfully and slightly painfully smacked him on the shoulder, “don’t you ever fuckin’ leave without letting us know you’re leaving or where you’re going. We were worried.” She reached in and hugged him again.

“Violet?” Cain asked when she released him.

“What about her?” Francesca asked.

“She okay?”

“Ask her yourself, she’s here,” Francesca said. Cain tried not to smile, but his lips seemed to curl upward all on their own. He hadn’t seen Violet for years until a few months ago, when she’d moved into town. He was happy he’d get to see her tonight. As had always been the case, her warm smile was the perfect salve for his shitty mood.

Cain held Francesca’s upper arm. “Wait, before we walk in. Are there any fights coming up? Sign me up for something. Soon.” Francesca was co-owner of Worth the Fight Academy, a mixed martial arts gym that trained professional cage fighters. Cain had been a fighter and a trainer before heading off a few months before.

“Brother, you just came into town, you need to take a breather. We can talk about it when you’re settled back.”

“I’m settled. I’m back. Sign me up.”

“Fine. Relax…at least a few hours. Come have a drink and say hello to everyone. We’ll find you something tomorrow,” Francesca said.

As soon as he opened the door to the familiar laughter and smell, he started to feel better. Since his parents’ passing a few years ago, this had been the closest place to a home he’d had.

“Gotta go to the restroom. Be right back,” John said. “Don’t go anywhere.” He winked.

“Okay.” She giggled—she couldn’t help it. Violet was still enthralled. No flaws yet; perfect teeth, no lopsided haircut, and no weird chewing habit. She was secretly praying he’d ask her for a second date. His laugh was infectious.

She was about to signal to JL for another round of drinks when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She turned around toward the front door of the bar and stilled, her heart exploding in a mix of emotions.

Her heart stopped for a few beats. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t seeing a mirage. The last 110 days of repressed emotions was sucked up in a vacuum and she had tunnel vision and tunnel hearing. He was in black cargo pants and a tight-fitting black T-shirt, his blond hair, longer than when he had left, was pulled back, and his usually pale skin was tanner. The man commanded a room by his presence and mesmerizing clear blue eyes. He looked like a Viking. He was covered in muscles, but wasn’t as beefy as the rest of the fighters; what he lacked in width he more than made up for in height. The contrast of his skin and all-black clothing made him looked dangerous—like his medieval counterparts, he looked ready to rape and pillage. Truth be told, most women would go to him fully ready to submit, consent, and sign on the dotted lines, no pillaging necessary.

Cain had been treating her like crap for the last few months before he left. Therefore, Violet’s next reaction shocked her, Cain, and probably the rest of the bar—luckily John was in the restroom.

Violet pushed back her stool, which fell in the process, and ran full speed to Cain, who wasn’t looking and wasn’t prepared for the full-frontal attack he was about to receive. He still held the heavy duffel bag when he turned around and Violet threw herself against him. She never doubted he would catch her. He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her waist. Growing up, she’d hug him all the time. These last years, they’d grown distant, but being in his arms didn’t feel strange. She buried her face in his neck and cried, “I missed your face. Where have you been? I thought you weren’t coming back.” It was said into his neck and he was the only one who heard her.

He pulled back and cupped her cheeks. “I missed your face too, sunshine.” He brought her back into his arms where she squeezed tighter and sobbed louder. She couldn’t let go. She needed to feel his hard muscular body against hers, feel the beat of his heart against her fingers, the warmth of his breath against her face. She needed to know he was alive. He was here. He had returned. “I’m here now, Vi. It’s okay.” He caressed the back of her head. “It’s okay, Vi. I’m okay.”

She pulled away from him for a second as her tears streamed down. She touched his face, his neck, his chest. “You’re here,” she whispered almost reverently.

“I’m here,” he whispered back. She slid slowly down his body and wiped the tears away. Then, the moment was broken. She pulled her fist back and punched him on the shoulder with all her strength. Hard.

“You didn’t even tell me you were leaving. You just left, you stupid jerk!”