***
There was something awe-inspiring about standing before books so old they had to be under glass to protect not only against the Bahamian heat but also against the ravages of time and air. After wandering through the main part of the library, I found the military history library. I wasn’t even a fan of Machiavelli or old maps from the Revolutionary War, per se, but it was amazing to see relics like that under glass.
It made me feel small, like all my problems and my family’s problems were just specks in the greater march of history.
Mrs. Johnson and Leonard had wandered back into the main part of the library to see if there were any other thrillers around for me. I loved a good page turner like that and had grabbed every book that caught my eye from the main area. They’d left me alone here, and it was only then that I noticed the dark corner of the special collection. Walking over, I looked up at the tall, nearly twelve-foot-tall, thick wooden door in the corner. Frowning, I pushed on the handle and it easily slid open. I was shocked at the lack of resistance. A door like this seemed so imposing that it should have been locked.
Maybe whoever had been in the super-secret section of the library last time had forgotten to lock it.
Slipping inside, I sneezed. Dust choked my throat and a thin film coated the only thing in the entire space: a battered metal footlocker.
Gasping, I stood frozen at the corner. I knew Drake had served in the Marines. His tattoos made it obvious, even if his comments and my own dossier on him hadn’t filled in those missing pieces. I just assumed he’d keep his old service things in his private quarters or, frankly, back in Los Angeles. They were as isolated and remote as possible here in the most forgotten corner of an island estate. The polite thing to do would be to turn around and focus instead on the collection he was clearly proud of. This was a place you stuck something you were ashamed of, or couldn’t bear to ever see again.
If the dust were anything to go by, he really hadn’t looked in years.
And yet, curiosity was eating through me. I couldn’t understand anything about Drake. There was the brash billionaire who drove me nuts, the Dominant whose power and draw scared me, and then that wounded soldier with eyes the color of hot chocolate. Who was the real Drake, and would the footlocker offer me any clues?
I didn’t even remember walking over to the chest. I was just there, almost like magic, flipping it open and pouring through everything. Not that there was much to see: an old folded American flag, his desert-colored uniform from days serving somewhere in the Middle East, and a set of dog tags. I dug deeper, pulling out some boots and a few old paperbacks. Then my finger grazed something sharp and I yipped. Yanking my hand back, I stared down at the blood welling up on my forefinger.
“What the heck?”
This time, being more mindful, I moved the pieces of his fatigues back and found the medal before me. The royal violet color was a dead giveaway that I was staring down at a Purple Heart. Picking it up, I held it to the faint light.
“What the hell are you doing in here? I thought Mrs. Johnson had locked everything after cleaning it. This is private!” Drake roared behind me.
Turning, I gasped and dropped the medal back into the footlocker. “I’m sorry. I know it was rude. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Drake strode across the small expanse of the room and kicked the footlocker back and away from me. “Why did you think you could be in here?”
I stood and looked up at him, noticing for the first time the ire burning in those brilliant brown eyes. My heart pounded in my chest, and I forced myself to ignore the panicked thumping. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
He gripped my shoulders, not too tightly, but the embrace startled me and I took in a sharp breath. Drake brought his face close to mine and spoke slowly but forcefully. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get the fuck out of this room and don’t ever come back!” he shouted. “You can’t possibly understand this. You don’t belong here!” He was growing more frantic, and his fingers dug into me, causing me pain.
“Ow!” I tore back from him and rubbed at my eyes. “You’re right. You’re the last person on Earth I’d ever understand, and I don’t care what I promised, I’m out of here!” I screamed back before running out of the room and into the Bahamian night.