19. SARA

“Does this dress make me look like a slut?”

Grace rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time since she came over.

“That’s Mom talking through you,” she says. “It looks great.”

That’s what I was thinking, but I wanted a second opinion. The woman looking back at me in the mirror has her shit together. The neckline shows off my cleavage, the waist actually fits the way it’s supposed to, the skirt part hugs my legs, but not too tightly.

“Are you sure?” I ask one last time.

“It’s Chance Talbot,” she huffs. “It’s not like you’re going out with David Beckham or something.”

“You haven’t seen him,” I say as I work my diamond studs into my earlobes. “He’s not the kid he was when you knew him. Not by a long shot.”

“Oh yeah? Take some pics with your phone tonight. I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Sure, Judge Gracie, I’ll wait on the opinion of the gal who’s had even fewer boyfriends than I have.”

She smacks my butt as I pass where she sits on my bed.

“Don’t be mean,” she says with a grin. “I have issues.”

I hand her the box of Kleenex from my night table.

“Got an issue, here’s a tissue.”

“Just go on your fucking date,” she giggles. “And tell him I say hi. I really do want to see him again. And Tre, too.”

“Oh, honey,” I say, grabbing my purse. “You definitely want to see Tre these days.”

She sighs. “He was hot enough back then.”

“He’s even hotter now.”

“Go!” she says. “Leave me alone so I can pout.”

“I’m out,” I say as I open the apartment door. “Wish me luck.”

She blows me a kiss. “Knock him dead, sis.”

* * *

The car is a stretch limo, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was Chance standing on the sidewalk, holding the door for me with the setting sun lighting him from behind.

He’s in a trendy sharkskin suit that matches the gray of his eyes and highlights his physique. No tie, of course. He told me once that a tie is like an invitation for an attacker to strangle you. It’s one of the things you learn when you grow up on the streets.

“I didn’t expect you, too,” I say as he takes my hand and ushers me into the back. His palm feels warm and good in mine.

“I figured this would give us more time together,” he says. “It’s been a long time – we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“That we do.”

He gives me an appreciative once-over, setting off a flock of butterflies in my belly. No other man has ever been able to do that to me.

“You look amazing,” he says.

“Thank you,” I manage to answer.

He waves a hand at the bar, well-stocked with top shelf booze.

“Drink?”

“I’d love a vodka on ice,” I say. “It’s been a long day.” And I’ve got a sudden heat that I need to cool down.

“I’ll bet,” he says, handing me my drink and pouring himself a neat scotch.

“Any trouble in your interviews today?” he asks.

“Just the opposite. Everyone was incredibly cooperative. They all love you, by the way.”

He smiles shyly and shrugs.

“The best people I know work at Atlas,” he says. “It’s an honor to know they feel the same about me.”

“You sound like a Marine,” I say.

“Oorah,” he grins.

“I’m so glad you followed your dreams. The Marines didn’t know what they were getting when you signed up.”

He chuckles. “That’s for sure. I walked into basic training like I owned the place. Took the drill sergeant all of ten minutes behind the barracks to let me know that no, in fact, I did not own the place, if you get what I mean.”

“At least you were always a quick study,” I say with a wince.

“Once I adjusted my attitude, I realized that these guys and gals were the family I’d always been looking for. Combat just drove that home to me even more. The man at your six is closer to you than a brother.”

It finally sinks in with me that Chance has spent a lot of time in the dark corners of the world since he left. I’ve had plenty of my own shit to deal with in my life, but none of it involved bullets and bombs flying in my direction.

“I can’t imagine what that was like,” I say.

“I hope you never have to,” he says with a faraway look. “I made it back in one piece after three tours, but a lot of my friends weren’t so lucky. Some of them had physical wounds; all of them had emotional ones. Quite a few of them work for me now.”

“I know,” I smile. “I met some. They think you’re a hero.”

He shrugs. “It’s easy to look like a hero when you’re signing somebody’s paycheck.”

I think of Quentin Pearce and cringe inwardly.

“You’re being modest,” I say. “They told me you saved a lot of lives overseas.”

“A lot of guys did,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got us a table at the Purple Room in twenty minutes. Sound good?”

I let him change the subject; he never was one to take praise very well. It was pretty rare that he got any growing up.

“This is crazy,” I say.

He looks at me, startled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the last time we were together, you could barely afford a burger at McDonald’s. Now we’re on our way to the most expensive restaurant in Chicago. I’d say you’ve come a long way, but that doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”

He finishes his scotch.

“I try not to think about that,” he says. “Money’s just a perk of the job, really. I’d be just as happy eating burgers at the Bad Apple every day, but clients kind of expect high-end treatment. It’s the work that’s important.”

“So I’ve heard. A lot of people have better lives because of Atlas.”

“I saw some bad stuff on the other side of the world. It changes you, or at least it changed me. I wanted to help people, and when I met Sully, it was like God was saying ‘all right, here’s your opportunity.’”

I nod. “By all accounts, it sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was the father I never had,” Chance says simply. “Everything I have, I owe to him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Chance. When we were young, you were like this giant warehouse full of potential, just waiting for someone to unlock your door. I think maybe Sully was that key for you.”

He smiles. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You never did see yourself the way I saw you,” I say before I can stop myself.

He looks uncomfortable all of a sudden; I’m sure if there were a mirror in here, I’d look the same. Way to make it awkward, Sara.

Chance breaks the tension by changing the subject again.

“I’d rather talk about you,” he says. “Tre told me about Bishop & Associates. So you and Gracie track down missing kids? That’s incredible.”

I blush. “Nothing like what Atlas does,” I say. “But – well, you know what Grace and I went through when we were growing up. A lot of girls aren’t lucky enough to have… people in their lives to help them through it.”

Suddenly his hand is on top of mine. I don’t think he even realizes he’s done it; there’s just this empathetic look in his eyes, urging me to go on.

“So they leave,” I say. “Unfortunately, there’s never a shortage of hawks out there looking for girls to exploit. We work to find them and get them out of those situations.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he says.

I shrug. “You taught me how to handle myself years ago, and I’ve been practicing ever since. I’m pretty good at it.”

“So you’re saying everything you are today, you owe to me?” he says with a grin.

I giggle. “Yes, Dudley Do-Right,” I say, pretending to swoon. “You saved me from the railroad tracks of life!”

That makes him laugh. It’s the first time he’s done that around me since we met up again, and it prompts an aching wave of nostalgia in my heart. Suddenly all I can think of are what-ifs.

I down the last of my vodka in an effort to get a hold of myself.

“But those cases tend not to pay all that well,” I say. “So I have to take some jobs that aren’t quite as morally upright, if you know what I mean.”

Chance nods. “There are a lot of rappers and reality show stars who need bodyguards, and they help Atlas keep the lights on. Sometimes you have to work with people like that.”

“Yup. And sometimes, you have to work with people like Quentin Pearce.”

The car comes to a stop and the driver comes around to open our door.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Chance says, taking my hand. “I want us to just be happy tonight.”

I smile, trying to mask the emotions running just below the surface of my eyes.

“I want that, too.”

You can’t imagine how much.