Chelsea
I…don’t know what to say. I half expected to see Jackson here and was proud of myself for not bailing. God knows his apology message_the one I haven’t acknowledged yet_put me in a tailspin.
If that weren’t bad enough, hearing Jackson’s drink order and explanation, my heart sinks to my feet. My reaction is to peek toward Bash since Jackson just outed me about my distaste for beer.
Bastien’s face is a mix of anger, pain, and suspicion, but I don’t see surprise. When my gaze slides to Birdie, I don’t see a reaction at all.
I drop my eyes and clear my throat nervously. “How long have you known?”
Birdie sips on her cider, wholly unaffected. “I’ve always known. Being uncomfortably observant is an occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”
Bash pulls his hat off, shamefaced. “I somehow missed it until Jackson said something. I guess I didn’t believe it until now.”
The shame becomes mine at the hurt in Bastien’s eyes. “Why would you fake that? Did you think we_I would reject you for being different? I don’t understand. I mean, it’s just beer, but is it?”
Bash looks down at his lap, and I feel like shit. I never thought my self-preservation would hurt someone else. “I’m sorry, Bash. I_”
My partner’s head whips up suddenly; all the color drained from his face. “Did I do something, say something to hurt you?”
Bash’s reaction makes sense only because I know how his mother died. That makes me feel even worse. “God, Bash. No. I came to Knot Corp. broken. Hell, I went into the Marines broken.”
My eyes flick toward Jackson, knowing all this is coming out because of him. I can’t lay this at his feet or yell at him because he’s even more pale and traumatized than Bastien.
Jackson stammers, “Wait, this wasn’t supposed to… I didn’t mean… Shit.”
Great, . Thanks to you, everyone is having a meltdown. Do you leave them to suffer or do you stop hiding? I heave a long sigh. “Knot was right.”
The bar noise fades, and my table goes deathly silent. “I am a chameleon. I’ve been a fake for so long, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Birdie stretches her arm across the table to squeeze my hand. “I understand. Believe me. I’ve learned that past traumas may shape who we become, but they don’t define us.”
“What happened to you?” Bastien nearly growls.
That’s the protector in him talking. Birdie places a restraining hand on his arm. “Wait.” Then, to me, she says, “. You don’t have to say anything.”
Jackson has been quiet since his outburst, but I look at him now. His face is blank. I get the idea he doesn’t want to push me either way. It’s ironic. I’m here because of him or thanks to him, depending on how you look at it.
Though nervous, my rational brain believes coming clean will release some of this weight off my chest. Jackson dips his chin in encouragement. With a shaky nod, I begin the story. “I’ll spare you the schoolyard bully bullshit. Suffice it to say I allowed a lot of it because of low self-esteem.”
I recite for them about Trace and our brutal end, each word cutting like a razor blade. Doing so leaves me hollowed out, raw. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes despite knowing these people only want to support me, Bash and Birdie at least. However, I suspect the same about Jackson.
Sensing there’s more to be said, the three remain quiet. I begin again reluctantly, giving them the rest of the ugly truth. “As hard as I tried, I was never enough for anyone until the Marines. By then, I’d grown used to pretending. I made myself whatever I needed to be to fit in: tomboy, one of the guys.” I train my gaze on Jackson. “And a comedian, just so no one would see the real me. I figured I might finally be accepted if I became someone else.”
Jackson surprises me by speaking for the first time since all this started. “You may have gone through hell to get here, but I’ve seen how much your people respect you. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
I find the strength to meet his gaze. “What if I’m not hiding? What if I’m just lost?”
“Then we’ll help find you,” Bastien rasps.
Birdie echoes him. “Yes, we will.”
“Damn right,” Jackson adds, smacking the tabletop.
Margo returns then, carrying a tray loaded down with girly drinks. She sets them on the table, shakes her head, and returns to the bar. The four of us study the artistic display, and Jackson randomly selects a glass, lifting it in the air. “To those who found their way back and those still looking.”
Bash and Birdie lift their drinks, and I study the remaining cocktails, selecting a yellowish-green one with crystals on the rim. We clink our glasses, and I take a small sip. “Oh shit. That’s nasty.”
Jackson and I lock eyes and laugh. He reaches for my glass and offers me his, the frilliest one of the bunch. We sample all the cocktails, with me favoring the espresso martini and Jackson, the amaretto sour.
We call it a night around nine-thirty. Birdie and Bash surprise me with hugs before they head toward home. I end up alone with Jackson, walking to my car. The air is pleasantly warm and fragrant with all the spring blooms out.
“I don’t know whether to shank you or thank you,” I say honestly.
Jackson’s laughter is unrestrained. “I promise this was unintentional. I was not expecting the night to turn out like it did. I hoped to get comfortable with each other in a social setting since that’s where we’ll need our acting skills.”
I’m not sure I believe him. “And the drink buffet you refused to let me pitch in for?”
He waves me off innocently. “If someone doesn’t like beer, they shouldn’t feel they have to drink it. I was only trying to give you options without putting you on the spot.”
“That’s…ah…that’s decent of you.”
Jackson tilts his head, regarding me intently. “It’s what friends do, right?”
My laugh is resigned and comes out as nothing more than a huff of breath. “Goodnight, Jackson.”
Ball gowns and espresso martinis are all I think about on the way home. The drink is on my mind because of the man who bought it for me. I suppose I’m thinking about the dress for the same reason.
When I wake up in the morning, my mind is still on dresses, but I’m no longer smiling. The more I think about having to find a dress, the more my mood sours.
By the time I leave for work, I’m not in a good place. I keep picturing that last night with Trace. No, I’m not the same shape or size I was then, but I’ll never be centerfold thin, either.
If I’m to pull off this undercover role, I’ll need to find a dress that’ll show off my toned upper half and hide my pear-shaped bottom that no amount of leg presses has diminished. This mission requires me to be the wealthy, show-stopping hostess, and it won’t happen if I don’t manage my undesirable parts.
Thoughts of my physique threaten to derail the entire day, so I crank up my radio and blast Eminem all the way to work.
I complete my morning gym cycle in near record time, even throwing in an extra set of lunges. Those not working this sting were sent to meet up with a team organized by Knot and Commander O’Reilly for some water maneuvers exercise. The two special assignment teams are summoned to Spatch’s lair.
We figure out the water maneuvers thing was a clever cover when Jackson’s platoon of seals marches into the room.
Spatch shouts over the murmuring crowd to get our attention. “You guys will be working in unfamiliar teams, in an unfamiliar place, while some of you are wearing masks. Because of this, verbal communication won’t always be an option. And being practically strangers, you won’t have the advantage of recognizing each other’s body language. To help with that, you’ll train together for the next week, study how each other moves, and learn a series of signals and signs unique to this mission. Today will be a good, old-fashioned dust-up. Now partner up! PMC to SEAL.”
Bash marches right up to Jackson and cracks his knuckles. “I’m looking forward to kicking your ass.”
The tattooed Aussie, Ink, approaches Sadie, offering a wink to Aaron. Fish, Jackson’s second squad leader, walks up to me. His blue-jean eyes sparkle in amusement. “This is a hell of a mission you cooked up. Impressive.”
“Thanks.”
With a wry smile, he says, “Most SEALs would be afraid to fight women.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not a woman then. I’m a Marine.”
Lungs beg for air, and sweat drips off our bodies an hour later. We switched partners every fifteen minutes to work through the teams. By the end, I’d rumbled with Fish, Bandaid, Devil, and Wrench. I’d won some and lost some but managed to hold my own. That I owe to our former Ranger trainer.
Spatch sounds his electronic whistle. “That’s it for today. Get out of here and get cleaned up. You’ve got work to do upstairs.”
I shuffle to the showers with Sadie and Dani, hiding how sore my body is. “Am I still moving?” I ask the other two.
“I don’t know. Am I?” Dani parrots.
Sadie plants a hand on my shoulder. Ow.
“You did better than me,” she says. “You’re the only one to put Devil on the ground.”
I shiver at the memory of the man with the dark eyes and even darker scowl. “He pulled his punches. He was afraid he’d kill me.”
“Ha!” Sadie scoffs, pointing to a red mark on her arm. “Gunner Murphy didn’t pull shit. You surprised him.”
Shaking my head, I duck beneath the hot spray for a short nap. Afterward, we three dress, pin up our dry, unstyled hair, and walk to the cafeteria for a bite to eat. The men are already seated, having beaten us there. As we pass the group, I glance toward Devil, who tips his chin respectfully. I guess Sadie wasn’t kidding.
After lunch, we join the two big bosses for more details about our Spanish mission. Knot starts the briefing by popping an image on the view screen. “This is a satellite view of our op location.” He points out specific features. “The main house has twenty rooms. We’ll use the salon off the front entry for fake security screenings. We’ll say we’re checking IDs in private so the congressman gets the illusion of privacy.
“To the west is a guest house we’ll use as the operational base. Most of you will mix in with the party guests, and the rest will pose as security.”
“If we need someone for relays between the hosts and security, we can make Skin a server,” Wrench from the SEALs offers.
His team laughs at the man with a model’s face, and Bash says, “You can have Cassanova join him.”
Yeah, those two look like they’re cut from the same cloth.
“Alright. Knock it off,” O’Reilly says, reining the group back in. “Sambi will provide some of his people to fill out the ballroom as well as the caterers, wait staff, and valets. We’ll iron out your specific assignments in the days to come. We do have one job that needs to get started now. I want the congressman’s ride bugged. Since Sambi will provide the car, access won’t be a problem.”
“Delano, that’s where you come in,” the commander announces, speaking to Wrench. “I want you to fix up a recording device that can be remotely controlled. We don’t expect Harding’s team to scan for bugs, but I want to be ready just in case.”
Wrench answers, “I’m on it.”
The commander scours the room until finding his next subject. “Bennett, how are the IDs and personas coming?”
Knot answers the first half of the question. “Birdie has finished the IDs and records. We don’t have physical copies of anything yet, but those will be here within the week.”
“We’ve got our general backgrounds covered,” Jackson tells his boss. “We’ll work our way forward starting today.”
Knot pushes off the table he’d perched on. “Harding’s invitation was hand-delivered yesterday afternoon. Until we hear from him, all this prep work is just academic. That doesn’t mean we can do a half-assed job. You’ve already seen how this has become a life-or-death situation. Plan as if it’ll be your life on the line next time. We’ll get Harding.”
Wrapping up the meeting is Commander O’Reilly. “Fish and Sadie, pick out the security detail and study the plans. Bennett, you and get back to work on your covers. The rest of you are dismissed.”
The room clears of everyone except Jackson and me. Not even Birdie stayed behind this time. Jackson stands and lumbers to the spot across from me. His smile is disarming, which sets my teeth on edge. We’ve… Well, I’ve finally settled into this friendship, and a stupid crush is the last thing I need right now.
I don’t want to notice Jackson’s broad shoulders and chest that taper to trim hips. I wish I could ignore his crooked smile, hazel eyes, and dark-blond hair that give him a sexy cowboy surfer look.
“Ready to get started?” he drawls.
He pulls out the chair and sits, and I rise quickly. I can’t be alone with him so close. “Let’s go outside. I could use some exercise.”
Jackson lifts a single brow. “Exercise after the meat grinder your trainer just put us through?”
“Air,” I correct myself. “I could use some air.”
“Then let’s go get some air.”
We’re both quiet as I lead Jackson to the running trail in the woods behind the main building. The day is clear and comfortable, but I hardly notice. I set a leisurely pace on the wooded trail, hoping the movement will mask my nerves.
Jackson doesn’t attempt to command the situation by forcing conversation. After several yards, I’m feeling pretty awkward in the silence. Not to mention, I’ve brought us to the woods, where we’re alone. “How did you get that scar on your neck?”
Jackson reaches up, seemingly without thought. Pain flashes in his eyes, and I regret asking. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“No. Fair is fair,” he insists. “I got it during the only mission that I lost a man. I almost died and would have if Bandaid hadn’t been there. He had to shove his bare hand inside my neck and sew my carotid shut to keep me from bleeding out.”
What follows is proof of how much Jackson cares about his men and how he almost quit over losing one. I wish I could provide him comfort or support, but words fail me, and I’m too close to the edge to offer a reassuring touch.
The only other thing I can think of is to change the subject. “Tell me about your son.”
Jackson snickers, causing me to glance his way. The pride on the man’s face makes me smile. “Caleb, a live wire for sure. He’s a junior at Old Dominion studying criminal justice.”
“Wow. He’s close. Was that intentional?”
“Yeah. He and his…” Jackson sighs. “Caleb wasn’t planned, obviously, but that kid is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was sixteen when he was born. Shelby, his mother, and I were young and dumb but wanted to do right by our son. We weren’t stupid enough to get married, thank God. I gave up baseball and got a job to help out as much as I could. When I graduated, I had to make a choice. Getting a shitty job wasn’t going to do much, and the college where I had a scholarship_I could have done it, but it would mean never seeing my son.
“I did the only thing I could think of. Caleb was two when I joined the Navy. I didn’t have long-term plans for serving, but I had a job, and Caleb had insurance. Being in the Navy was the calling I never knew I had. I hated missing those months of his life during training, but we made it. Shelby and Caleb moved with me to Virginia when I was stationed here permanently.”
Past insecurities bubble to the surface, making me wonder how I measure up to Caleb’s mother. I don’t mean to ask, but the words tumble out of my mouth. “What happened to Shelby?”
“She got a job and took some online business classes. We made a good team with Caleb but, over time, recognized that we’d gotten over the teenage infatuation. We settled into a comfortable friendship, co-parenting as well as a couple of twenty-year-olds can. When Caleb was six, I realized we were holding each other back. Shelby deserved to find someone who could be more than a teammate, someone who would complete her. She moved out, and we split time with Caleb. She had him when I deployed. If Shelby needed time to study or had a date, Caleb was with me.”
We near the half-mile mark and turn off for the short track, but I find that I want to keep going on the longer track and hear more. “What about you? Did you ever find someone to complete you?”
Jackson is quiet and contemplative for a while. “No. I had my team and my son. The Navy demanded a big chunk of my days. I wasn’t willing to give up any of my time with Caleb.”
We pass the half-mile marker with me digesting what I’ve learned. “You sound like a dedicated father. What’s Caleb like?”
“He’s almost as good-looking as I am.” Jackson continues through my laughter. “He’s currently using my dog in a campaign to pick up women.”
“If he’s as persistent as his father, girls better watch out.”
I catch Jackson smiling from the corner of my eye.