Chapter 1

 

TODAY

 

FOUR YEARS LATER

 

- CAMDEN -

 

 

“One word for you. Motherfucking stop-loss.”

It’s actually more than one word. And I’d be tempted to pick up the phone and tell my friend that, rather than letting him leave a message.

But I’ve got some woman’s hand sliding downward, making a beeline for my crotch while her tongue is tangled with mine.

Lancaster can leave a voicemail like everyone else.

Heat singes me as her tits spring from her bra when I undo the clasp. They spill into my hands like a miracle of modern medicine. Large, full globes—a little on the hard side. I’ve never been much of a fake boob man, personally. But these ones might make me a convert.

Helena. I repeat her name in my head so I don’t screw up and call her the wrong name. That never goes over well. But seeing as she’s the one who propositioned me, and not the other way around, I’m not thinking she would care too much.

Her fingers tug at my buttons. I’ve got my usual tacky Hawaiian shirt on for work, covered in tiki statues and palms. I hate the tropical look, but it’s part of the uniform. Everyone comes to Hawai‘i expecting men to look like Magnum, P.I., according to my boss.

Seeing as I was a child of the nineties, I didn’t even know who the hell Magnum was till I moved here.

Tugging my shirt free, her French manicured fingertips slide against my pecs, then trace downward as though she’s counting my abs as she goes. I don’t care that she’s looking at me like a piece of meat, so long as those fingers keep moving south.

Just as her fingers reach my holy grail, I spin her against the wall, ready to lift her onto my kitchen countertop and ram myself into her.

“Pick up the damn phone, Titwad.”

Lancaster’s tone on my machine is lethal, even though his words are hushed. As a single dad, he doesn’t toss around profanity much anymore. So I’m assuming his preschooler isn’t with him at the moment. Wouldn’t want precious little Stella to call her friends “titwad” on the playground at preschool.

Though I personally think that would be hysterical.

Lancaster turned out to be a pretty dedicated dad, actually. I’d never have imagined that happening when some stripper he fucked after a bachelor party showed up with a toddler a couple years later and told him he needed to take the kid off her hands… permanently. Seeing as the little girl’s eyes were trademark Lancaster—Army green—he took her without question or bloodwork. He was still in the Rangers at the time, where I met him back when I was in uniform. He put in for a new Army post the next day. The Ranger Battalion isn’t the best place for a single dad.

The reminder of what can happen on a one-night stand should probably kill my raging hard-on right now as Helena sucks in my lower lip and gives it a nip. But it doesn’t. I’m as careful as a guy can be, and buy condoms in bulk.

Besides, this woman with me is a freaking goddess, and her lips have left my mouth and seem to be exploring… elsewhere.

Keep going, honey. There’s something that would love your mouth’s attention.

“I know you’re there, Cam. I tried you at work and they said you were headed home. Now quit fucking around with that redhead and pick up the phone.”

“Dammit,” I mutter as her hands wrap around the sides of my unzipped cargo shorts and slide my clothes downward revealing just how much I want her. I’m not picking up that phone if my life depended on it.

 “Okay, asshole. Three more words for you, then. Family Care Plan.”

And just like that, I feel my heart compress.

I’ve never gone soft in front of a woman. Once that train leaves the station, there’s usually only one way to get it to stop.

Until today.

I hear his sigh on my machine. “I’ve got two tickets to paradise, and one of them is one-way. Sorry to do this to you, man.”

Gasping, I pull myself from what’s-her-name. Hell, I don’t even remember what my name is right now. I reach for the phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I spit the words into the receiver.

Yes, I’d agreed to it. Lancaster’s pause on the other end serves as a reminder of that. Family Care Plans are important in the Army, especially in one-parent households. They’re the list of what lucky souls will take care of your kid in the event of deployment. Which, in a long, protracted war like we’ve been fighting, is a pretty certain event.

“You’re listed as the secondary on my Family Care Plan for Stella.”

“Well, yeah. The secondary. What happened to the primary?”

“My mom just had hip replacement surgery. She’s not up to it yet.”

“What about your dad?”

“Dad can barely take care of Mom, let alone Stella. The guy’s in the advanced stages of emphysema. It was Mom who was the rock in that couple. Not him.”

“But—”

“Look, I’m sorry. Seriously. You knew this going in, though.”

“You put in your resignation, for God’s sake.” Desperation drips from my tone.

“I told you. They’ve ordered a stop-loss. No one’s getting out right now.”

“Fuckin’ A.”

Stop-loss. The two words no guy wants to hear—especially a guy like Lancaster. Stop-loss is when the DoD doesn’t allow anyone out of the military.

Lancaster put in his paperwork to leave the Army about a month ago. He’s been stateside for two years since his little girl came to live with him, and a few months ago he caught wind that the Army might have a deployment in his future after his current job ended. Plenty of guys with kids deal with a deployment. But he worried Stella had been through enough upheaval already.

I hadn’t suspected they’d do a stop-loss anytime soon, what with them cutting back forces lately rather than building up. Hell, they practically did a happy dance when I put in my separation paperwork a year ago, and I was no schlump. But the Army is a machine I’ve never been able to understand.

“Look, it’s not like it will be for the whole year. Probably just a month. Maybe two. Mom’s getting stronger every day. She’ll call you if she gets to the point where she can take Stella off your hands.”

“I don’t know anything about babies,” I whine.

Yes, I whined. Scores of missions with the Rangers, five titanium screws in my arm, and a blown eardrum. Yet I’ve never whined. Until now.

The redhead kneeling in front of me, looking perplexed at the sight of a rock-hard shaft turning to putty in the span of a split-second, gazes up at me.

“You have a baby?” She stands quickly and holds up her hands. “Sorry, I’m not looking to be a mommy. I’m just here for—”

“No—wait—” I reach for her as she breaks from my grasp to pick up her black lace bra from my floor. “It’s not my baby.”

“That’s what they all say,” she scoffs, quickly dressing as she heads toward my door.

I actually have to admire her acuity right now. That is what most guys will say. She’s a lot sharper than I gave her credit for—something that almost has my cock perking up slightly until I see her disappear down my hall.

Damn. Brains and beauty. That woman might have been perfection, and now I’ll never know.

Lancaster’s voice slices through. “She’s not a baby, idiot. She’s four. Pretty much self-sufficient,” I hear him say.

Self-sufficient? What kind of a fool does he take me for? “Perfect. Then put her in college.” I dart toward the door, chasing the goddess. “Wait—let me explain, uh—” Dammit. What was her name?

“Are you still there?” I hear Lancaster’s voice on the other end of the phone just as my front door slams shut.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” I groan as I stare at my closed door.

“Look, if I had any other back-up plan, you know I’d do it. But it’s not like I can call her mother. She’s apparently forgotten she ever had a kid at this point. Besides, I’d go AWOL before I let Stella spend any more time with her.”

I have to agree with him there. According to Lancaster, she clearly had a drug problem when she showed up on his doorstep which, frankly, made me pity the hell out of her. I’ve seen enough guys turn to drugs or booze to try to drown out the memories of war. And whatever happened to her in her life to have her turn to stripping as a career couldn’t be a good thing. But she raced off within five minutes of showing up, and hasn’t been seen since. Even the P.I. that Lancaster hired with the hope of getting her some help turned up nothing.

“My brothers aren’t going to like this,” I groan, my eyes looking around the three-bedroom condo we’ve turned into our bachelors’ paradise since we all got out of the Army this past year.

“I know. But like I said, it won’t be for long. I’ll send you every dime I make for preschool and babysitters. Hell, you’ll barely know she’s there.”

Does he seriously think I’m falling for this? “I’ll know she’s there every time I want to call her daddy a titwad and I won’t be able to do it out loud.”

“All you have to do is keep her safe. Safe and healthy. That’s all I ask.” He sounds just desperate enough that I finally start feeling sorry for him. Even though I’m the one that just lost out on a hot redhead, I can’t really imagine having to leave a kid and head to God knows where.

Safe. I can keep anyone safe. I was a Ranger, for God’s sake. And healthy? I’ll delegate that to my doctor brother, if he’ll ever speak to me again after I tell him that the million-dollar bachelor pad we purchased together is about to turn into Romper Room.