Chapter Nineteen
WILL
There were rules to every engagement, and each theater served up its own set of variables. Finding myself face-to-face with Shannon’s new man—if you could call this shitsnack that—was no different.
I was staring down the Lord of the House of Douche, and if I didn’t know Shannon would give me a lifetime worth of shit for it, I would have killed him by now. He introduced himself as Gerard after she stared at me in open-mouthed shock for two minutes, and the longer I watched him, the more convinced I was that she’d gone in search of the biggest prick in town.
He’d fucked her, that was plain as day, and he was sitting there, his legs crossed and his hands folded over his pinstriped fucking trousers, as if he owned the joint.
As if he owned her.
If there was one thing I knew with certainty it was that no one owned Shannon. She owned herself and anyone who suggested otherwise was usually invited to go fuck himself. If there was anyone who could lay claim to Shannon it was me, and even that stood on shaky ground at this point. I knew showing up at her apartment was a dicey move after all this time and everything that had happened, but this tactic never failed me, and…I needed her.
The Lord of the Douches shifted in his seat, then scratched his ear, looked around, and scratched his ear again. It was a glowing invitation to interrogate this bitch while Shannon took her sweet ass time hiding in the kitchen.
“Gerard,” I said, “you a Red Sox fan?”
He offered an indifferent shrug that told me he intended to blow off every question I asked. He didn’t give a shit who I was or what I was doing here, and he probably sensed I wanted to get rid of him. “Yankees. New Yorker.”
“Everyone has a cross to bear,” I said. “Riley hasn’t blacklisted you? Impressive. He must be going soft in his old age.”
Lord of the Douches squinted, confused. “Riley?”
He tugged at his ear again, and this guy needed to get his tells under control. Who the fuck was he? Any man who earned a spot in Shannon’s life was forced to share it with Patrick, Sam, Riley, and Matt. Not to mention Nick and Tom. You got the slice she served up, and you were fucking thankful for the offering. It wasn’t a lesson I came by easily, but it was one I knew as clear as my name and rank.
“The youngest one,” I said, and he continued squinting. “Shannon’s brother? Goes to every home game. The kid wants to get married on home plate, name his first born Big Papi, and have his ashes spread over the outfield when he dies.”
I didn’t know any of this to be true, but I wasn’t burdening Gerard with those details. The only thing he needed to know was that his time with Shannon was over.
“I hadn’t heard that,” he said, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Captain Will Halsted, United States Naval Special Warfare Command,” I said.
I didn’t pull the SEAL Team card often, but it was a small pleasure to watch Gerard’s reaction wash over him. How was it possible that this uptight sack of shit was in Shannon’s apartment? Unless he was here appraising the place, there was no way I could believe she’d willingly spend time with him. Sure, on the surface he was her type but there was far more than met the eye when it came to her.
He pressed a hand to his hip and retrieved a shiny iPhone from his pocket. “Apologies,” he said. “Call from the office.” He pointed to the den. “I’ll just…”
Lord of the Douches quick-stepped down the hallway, and I knew his “call from the office” would keep him busy.
Aside from the flaming asshole in pinstripes, Shannon’s apartment was exactly the way I remembered it. Furniture that only looked too fancy to be comfortable. Hardwood floors topped with intricately woven silk rugs. Built-in bookshelves on either side of the brick fireplace, filled with books, old photographs, and an assortment of geodes, none of which she wanted to discuss.
It was precisely Shannon. Intentional. Everything had a purpose, everything meant something.
The click of her heels against the floor announced her approach before she rounded the corner from the kitchen, but it didn’t prepare me for the impact of gazing at her again. The months, the distance, the resentment over the state of things between us…none of that changed the way my heart and head reacted to her. She was sexy as hell—that was nothing new—but that wasn’t my first thought this time. No, this time I wanted to drag her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, and let myself be close to her for a long, long time.
“Did you say you wanted wine?” Shannon asked. She stared at the empty chair, blinking. “Where’s Gerard?”
“I threw him out the window,” I said. “I had to kill him but I didn’t want to get blood on your rugs.”
“Jesus Christ, Will,” she hissed. She crossed her arms over her chest and I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t remember seeing anything that beautiful in months, and that wasn’t just because those months were filled with some of the toughest, most deadly missions I’d ever led. “That’s really fucking hilarious.”
“Anything to get you smiling,” I said.
She sent me a withering smirk, and I was pleased to see it fall into a frown when Gerard entered the room.
You can’t fool me, peanut.
“Shannon, thank you for an enjoyable evening. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to a client.” He glanced in my direction. “Captain, it was a pleasure, and…thank you for your service.”
I offered a tight salute as Gerard shrugged into his coat. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but observed with an emotion I can only describe as glee when Shannon showed him to the door without so much as a handshake.
She kicked off her heels as the door closed, and came to a stop right in front of me. “Captain, is it now?”
We did not have time to discuss my ascension in the ranks. “Who the fuck was that?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she yelled. “I mean, it is nice of you to knock this time. Have you grown out of your breaking and entering stage yet, commando?”
I was on my feet and grabbed her around the waist before the last syllable passed her lips. “Tell me, peanut: when his name is on your lips, does it taste the same as mine?” I asked, my arms banded around her torso with her back pressed tight against my chest.
“That’s none of your goddamn business,” she bit out as she wriggled in my arms. My shoulder was aching and pins and needles were setting my last three fingers on fire, but I didn’t care. I was going to hold her until she drew the line and told me to stop.
“Would he mind if I did this?” I dragged my lips up her neck and over her jaw, melting even further into this woman as the taste of her skin spread around me. “What if…” I brought my fingers to her chin and angled her toward me. “What if I did this?”
She knew what I was thinking while I stared at her mouth. She knew I was going to kiss her, and that, in the long, disjointed history of us, kisses were never simple, never innocent. My lips found hers, and we were both uncoordinated and impatient, biting, sucking, licking, feasting on each other. When she released a sweet, relieved sigh, I knew she still belonged to me.
“Kiss me like that again and your clothes are coming off,” I warned, my hand tight on her hip.
When our lips met, I knew she was as desperate for this as I was. My hand ran down her thigh and then back up, and over the globes of her ass, squeezing and grinding myself into her. My lips landed on her neck and this—this right here—was worth crossing deserts and mountains, surviving helicopter crashes, taking a fucking ton of shrapnel.
This woman was worth it all.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. “It has been eight fucking months, Will.”
“I needed to see you,” I admitted, my lips on her neck. “I told you I was coming for you when my tour was up.”
I couldn’t talk about the failures of my last mission, the scars it left behind, or the decisions ahead of me. Not tonight. The one thing I was capable of doing tonight was crawling into bed with Shannon and holding her—
“And I told you this was over,” she said. “You cannot show up at my door like this and think…I don’t even know what the hell you think, but you can’t do this. I’ve moved on. I’m with someone else.”
She fought against me, and for a second I debated whether she actually wanted me to release her. We were rough with each other as a matter of fact, but this seemed different. I loosened my hold, and she slipped out of my arms.
“You can’t do this,” she repeated. “You can’t be here.”
When I hopped a flight back to the States with the intention of sorting out my life and visiting Shannon, I knew there were several possible outcomes.
She could straight-up refuse to see me, and that was a very real contender. Shannon was a heavyweight when it came to shutting people out and pretending they didn’t exist.
She could order me to whip my dick out and fuck her until we both collapsed. Of course, she’d insult me the entire time and I’d get off on that shit.
Finally, and perhaps most realistically, she’d treat me to the coldest shoulder known to man, and once I earned the right, she’d let me touch her and taste her. I deserved plenty of that ice, and I’d take everything she threw at me. I also knew that, regardless of anything, she took care of her people. Too much. So much that she didn’t take care of herself.
“I’m staying with you,” I said. “Just a few days. Please. This is the only place I can go right now.”
“Let’s ignore the fact that your sister lives ten minutes away.” She rubbed her temples, and I saw when her muscles sagged in resignation. “You know where the guest room is,” she said. “Don’t break anything. No commando tactics. No bomb building. No gun fights.”
“That’s a good reminder,” I said. “Bomb-building was on my list of activities for tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to hear about your activities,” she murmured. “I don’t want you here.”
“And I don’t want to hear about you spending time with that asshole,” I called as she walked toward her bedroom.
“Let’s clarify a few things, Will.” She whirled around, wagging her finger at me. “One, you don’t call the shots here. Two, what I do is none of your business. Three, the only asshole in this situation is you. I had an epically awful day before you showed up, and I’m done. I cannot deal with the universe slinging any more shit at me. I am finished with this day.”
The door slammed behind Shannon.
It was her way: she worked hard at controlling every inch of her life, and here I was, messing it all up again. She kept her emotions on lock. She required time and space to warm up, to get comfortable, to relax. And there was a lot more time and space between us now than there had ever been before. I couldn’t throw her on the bed, own her pussy, and force her to chill the fuck out. Not yet. Not tonight.
So instead of tearing her door off its hinges like I wanted to, I inspected the locks and pulled the open kitchen windows shut. The pantry door stood ajar, and I ducked inside for a closer look. Wine, bottled water, crackers, nuts, dried pasta. The refrigerator offered little more, and though I was tempted to confirm she’d eaten, I made my way into the closet-narrow guest room without stopping by her door.
With my arms outstretched, my fingers nearly touched either wall.
Shannon could undoubtedly explain all of the architectural features and provide a short dissertation on why a room of this size and shape existed, and part of me wanted to know. But if there was anything to be interpreted from the tone of that door slam, it was that she wouldn’t welcome my appearance in her bedroom this evening.
I flopped onto the pillow-laden daybed and pressed my fist to the pain radiating through my shoulder and down to my elbow. Nine hours crammed in the back of a military cargo plane out of Germany had only made the situation worse, but I’d be damned if I resorted to wearing the sling. The worst part was the numbness through my forearm and part of my hand, and mostly because those fire-and-ice tingles weren’t numb at all. But the real problem—the one the Navy was hoping would disappear after some leave time—was my trigger finger.
Dropping anchor in Boston wasn’t the smartest idea. The best spot for me was the naval amphibious base at Little Creek, Virginia. I’d get the unit physician’s undivided attention, world-class physical therapists, and unlimited time at the shooting range. No redheaded distractions there.
But the redhead was the one thing that made sense right now. I needed her, and maybe she’d let herself need me too.