Chapter 11
The heat clung to his skin, a sticky weight even this close to dusk. The metallic smell of the nearby processing facility mixed with the faint scent of dust from the hard-packed red earth and tickled his nose. He shifted his weight, the fine grit crunching faintly under his boots.
“Boss, you’re pacing,” Jug’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Did you ever think she might’ve gained five hundred pounds and grown a beard?”
Talon stopped mid-stride, realizing he’d worn a shallow track in the dirt. “I’m deeper than that, shithead. She’s an amazing woman.”
“And if there isn’t chemistry?” Jug asked pointedly.
“Then I have a damn good friend.” But the thought had crossed his mind more than once.
God knew he didn’t want to relegate her to the friend zone, but if she weren’t attracted to him, he wouldn’t push her.
Even after a year, he still remembered her beautiful eyes and the strength the woman had shown.
“That would suck.” Jug sighed heavily. “For all of us, not just you. You’ve been happier with her in your life, even though it’s just been texting.”
He didn’t acknowledge Jug’s statement. Instead, he asked, “Status report?”
“All quiet. Perimeter’s secure. And you need to mute your comms before you go on your date.”
Heat crept up the back of Talon’s neck. His team knew about the date.
Of course, they knew. You didn’t spend a year watching your team leader’s expression shift every time his phone buzzed without figuring out a woman was involved.
He bet Jug had told them everything he knew.
Nothing stayed private around his team, but hearing Jug say it out loud made it real in a way Talon wasn’t ready to admit.
“It’s not a date,” he said automatically.
“Right. And I’m not cleaning my rifle for the fourth time today because I’m nervous about you being off comms for more than thirty minutes.”
Talon almost smiled. Almost. “Just muted. If you need me, Dude can alert me. I’m tapping out now.”
“Copy that. And, boss? Try to relax. She’s going to love seeing you.”
The comms clicked silent. Talon tapped his earpiece to mute and tried to ignore the faint tremor in his hands.
Special operators didn’t get nervous. They assessed.
Planned. Executed. But this, well, this was new horizons for him.
He was seeing Riley after a year of nothing but encrypted texts. Yeah, this was uncharted territory.
He adjusted his stance, forcing his breathing even.
The glass doors opened.
Talon’s breath caught like someone had driven a fist into his chest. Make that two fists and a fucking RPG at the same time.
Riley.
She wasn’t just beautiful. She was luminous.
The late sunlight caught in her dark hair, turning it into threads of mahogany and gold.
A deep blue shirt skimmed over her loosely.
The color pulled the blue from her eyes and made them sharp, alive.
When she smiled at him, something deep in his chest cracked open.
Lord, did she hear it? His soul shattered and let loose something he’d held locked down for far too long.
This wasn’t the broken, haunted woman he’d carried off that cargo ship fifteen months ago. This wasn’t even the careful, rebuilding Riley he’d come to know in a multitude of shared words. This was Riley Shoemaker in full force. She was confident, vibrant, alive.
And she was nervous.
He caught it in her small tells. The subtle tuck of her hair behind her ear, the almost imperceptible tremor in her fingers as she stepped forward. The sight cut through his own nerves in an instant.
This was Riley. His Riley. And she was worried about whether she was enough for him.
Unacceptable.
Talon crossed the space between them in three long strides, the packed dirt muffling under his boots.
Her eyes widened slightly, that flicker of breathless surprise he’d seen before lighting in her expression.
He could feel her presence radiating toward him, as tangible as heat shimmering off the pavement.
He reached for her hands, taking them gently in his own. Her skin was soft and warm, her pulse beating quickly under his thumbs. He turned her palms upward, holding her gaze, steady and unwavering, before lowering his head and pressing his lips to the center of each palm.
The taste of salt and warm skin lingered a moment longer than necessary. His lips stayed against her skin just a fraction longer, enough for the rest of the world to disappear.
When he lifted his head, her breath audibly caught. And for the first time since he’d stepped out of the hospital a year ago, Talon felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
“You are more beautiful than I remember,” Talon said, his voice rougher than intended. The words slipped out before he could filter them, but he didn’t regret them. “Maybe that’s because I know you now. Maybe it’s because my heart sees you as gorgeous.”
Riley’s breath hitched again. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The late-afternoon sunlight slanted across her hair, catching threads of chestnut and gold, her blue eyes fixed on him like she was seeing him for the first time. Or maybe the way he’d hoped she’d see him one day.
“Talon,” she whispered, and the way his name sounded in her voice was heaven.
It was soft, a little shaky, full of something unspoken.
Man, it hit him like a sucker punch to the chin.
Direct, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
Every instinct screamed to pull her against him, to wrap her in his arms and keep her there.
Instead, he stepped back a fraction, his discipline slipping into place even as his hands stayed linked with hers. “How was your first week back?”
“Better than I expected.” Her smile was genuine now, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. “Scary, but good scary. Like jumping out of an airplane.”
“Have you ever jumped out of an airplane?”
“No.” Her lips curved. “But I imagine it feels something like this.”
Talon felt his own mouth twitch upward. It was an honest-to-God smile, the kind that would make his team suspect he’d been compromised. “Come on. We have a date waiting.”
He’d chosen the location with the precision he brought to every operation, and as far as he was concerned, the date was as important as any operation he’d planned.
There was a small restaurant in the town of Boka, far enough from both compounds to give them privacy but close enough to stay inside his team’s security net.
The owner, a former French Foreign Legion sergeant, greeted Talon with a nod that conveyed both recognition and discretion. The air held the briny scent of the river and the faint smoke of grilling fish. A warm breeze softened as the sun dropped lower.
They sat at a table on the terrace overlooking the river.
Yes, it was still hot, but not as intense as the day’s inferno.
The setting sun turned the water to liquid gold.
As it sank beyond the horizon, it cast long shadows that stretched across the wood deck.
A lantern on their table flickered in the breeze.
Dusk deepened, adding a soft halo of light that made the whole scene feel almost … unguarded.
Riley had started the evening sitting just a little too straight, her shoulders squared as though bracing for impact.
But over the course of the meal, the tension eased from her posture.
She laughed more easily, leaned in when he spoke, her hand finding his without hesitation.
Seeing her like this was … incredible. How many times had he wished she were close enough for him to study every expression or to feel the warmth of her hand?
Tonight was a different kind of overwhelming.
In some ways, it was more intense than anything combat had ever thrown at him.
“Tell me about training the SRF,” Riley said, her fingers threaded through his. He’d told her about it because it was public knowledge that Guardian held the contract to train the SRF. However, the location was undisclosed, and he kept it from her for security measures.
“Some are getting better,” Talon said, his thumb tracing idle circles against her skin, marveling at how natural the gesture felt. The connection grounded him. “The ones who want to learn are making progress. The others …” He shrugged slightly. “You can’t teach someone to care about staying alive.”
“That sounds like something you’d know about.”
Her tone was light, but her eyes … her eyes were all focus. In their conversations, she’d always been perceptive, but this wasn’t just Riley noticing things in his words. This was Riley seeing him.
“I care about staying alive,” he said carefully.
“Do you?” she asked softly. “Or do you just care about keeping other people alive?”
The question landed with surgical precision, slipping under the armor he’d built over the years.
His life had always been weighed in terms of acceptable risk: the mission over himself, the people he protected over his own survival.
He’d never had to put it into words. Not even in the unguarded texts he’d sent her.
“I care about staying alive … now,” he said finally, and he felt the truth of it settle deep in his chest. “I have a reason to come out of every mission.”
Her smile lit up the shadows between them, and for a moment, it felt like the air shifted, heavier with things neither of them had yet said.
“What reason?” she asked.
The sound of her voice wrapped around him, warm and full of promise.
Talon looked at their joined hands, at the way her smaller fingers fit perfectly between his. For a man who made his living with minimal words, tactical briefings, operational reports, and hard-edged commands, he found himself searching for the perfect explanation.
“The color blue. Your blue eyes,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain. “And texts at 0300 when I couldn’t sleep. And the way you argue with me about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.”