Chapter 10
Erin supposed she would never fully understand military men, especially Marines. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to.
Maybe she just didn’t understand the male of the species, period, and that was why Ethan had run away.
Maybe that was why she’d lost Blaine.
You didn’t lose him, you threw him away.
You had to.
The old, pointless argument ran through her head as it had countless times before. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that she had help, tough, competent help, to find Ethan and bring him home.
But even that wouldn’t solve the underlying problem.
That her son hated her so much he couldn’t stand to be under the same roof with her.
She suppressed a shudder, or tried to, wondering how she had made such a huge mess of her life.
Then she felt a warm, strong arm come around her, holding her, supporting her.
“We’ll find him, Erin. We’ll find him.”
Blaine’s quiet, confident words reassured her as nothing else could. Except holding her.
She couldn’t help herself, she leaned into him.
Savored the heat, the power of him. All the memories boiled up inside her, of how wonderful, how sweet…
how utterly hot their time together had been.
And for a moment it was like it had once been, this strong, steadfast man always at her side, always there for her.
She ached for it to be that way again, them, together, unassailable, indivisible.
When he wasn’t off fighting some stupid war somewhere.
And that easily she was back in the muddle again. Telling herself it was her own fault. For never realizing until it was too late that loving a hero required some bravery of her own, which she obviously didn’t have. No wonder Ethan hated her. No wonder Blaine hated her.
Blaine feels a lot of things about you, but I guarantee hatred isn’t one of them.
She glanced at the tall, rangy man who had come at Blaine’s call, bringing some incredible help with him. How did a man like that, whose job in the military had essentially been killing people, end up working with a group that did nothing but help people?
More importantly…was he right? Did Blaine really not hate her? And what if he was right? That didn’t mean the rift between them could ever be mended.
And again Rafe Crawford’s words ran through her mind.
It can be done. Even if the breach is…huge.
She felt a sudden, fierce longing to see that look he’d worn when he’d said it, that expression of undeniable and complete satisfaction, on Blaine’s face again.
She tamped it down. She had to. Especially when he was looking at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. As if he could still read her so well.
Another memory, odd for the moment, struck her. Of another military wife complaining that her husband not only never listened to her, but would never, ever admit that he was wrong about anything.
Blaine was not like that. He never had been.
Sometimes it took some convincing, but if he came to see he’d mistaken something, misinterpreted something, or hadn’t had all the relevant details, he had no problem admitting it and changing his mind.
In fact, he had shown her how to do it in turn, with grace and lack of ego.
Because when he knew he was right, there was no budging him.
He looked at her now and said quietly, “We have a battle to fight.”
She let out a long breath, and was about to pull away, to stand up on her own and face what they had to face, when he said softly, “But remember what you were just thinking, too.”
Then he let her go and stepped back. And she tried not to feel bereft.
She wasn’t sure she’d managed it.
* * *
Blaine was beyond restless. He wanted to get moving, but he didn’t know where to go.
He wanted to go on the hunt, but didn’t know where the objective might be hiding.
He wanted to do something, anything, but everything felt like just flailing around blindly.
And now it was dark out, and he’d be blind in that way, too.
Erin was in the kitchen, where she’d been washing those coffee mugs for nearly an hour.
They were likely sterile enough for surgery by now.
Rafe, who had been across the living room on the phone again with who knows how many people in that last hour, finally put the thing back in his pocket and walked back over to him.
“Got through to one of Walker’s police contacts this time, gave him a heads-up on why we’re here.
He’s going to look into the case and see if there are any developments or leads they haven’t had the time or manpower to look into.
We compared lists—” he held up the list Erin had made out, of friends and places Ethan might contact or be at, although they were only the ones she knew of “—and he helped us eliminate a couple that they did check out thoroughly.”
Erin set down the last mug with an audible thump. She looked at Rafe in surprise. “They actually did something? The officer who took the report wasn’t optimistic about that. Said they were too backed up.”
Rafe turned to look at her. “They are. But it turns out the juvenile detective for the area is former military. Once he knew Ethan was the son of an active-duty Marine pilot, he was all in.” He shifted his gaze to Blaine.
“He owes one like I owe you. But I think he would have done it anyway. He’ll call if he turns up anything.
And expects the same from us, of course. ”
“He didn’t tell you to stay out and let the police handle it like he did me?” Erin sounded a bit offended.
“You’re a civilian, of course he told you that,” Blaine said, feeling a little sick at the idea of her out there when there were possibly street gangsters involved.
Especially here, where the influx was so high, less than a hundred miles from the border.
Before Erin could say whatever it was she was about to, Rafe thankfully, tactfully, and probably intentionally cut it off.
“I also talked to the attorney Walker’s wife, Amy, works for, Marcus Rockwell,” Rafe went on.
“I’ve heard that name,” Erin said.
“He’s pretty well known in the area, has handled a few gang-related cases, and gave me a couple of locations to check. He can help with any aftermath issues for Ethan as well.”
“You got information from both a detective and an attorney?” Erin asked.
“Foxworth did,” Rafe corrected. “The name opens a lot of doors. We work with the police, often. If we get information they can’t, we share it.
And they know if it turns into something big for them, we don’t care about getting credit.
But we’re not bogged down by their rules, so we have more freedom to do what’s necessary to help and protect our client. ”
Blaine noticed he wasn’t at all irritated at having to explain again what he’d already told him. He really was proud of his work. The thought caused a pang in Blaine’s gut.
“Client? Is that what I am?” Erin asked.
Rafe studied her for a moment before saying quietly, “I think in this case Ethan is our client.”
Blaine could tell by the look on her face that she felt the same way he did at those words.
“You’re not going to get in trouble with your boss for using that influence, are you?” Erin asked, and Blaine felt a soft, warm recognition. This was the Erin he knew, always worried about everyone else, sometimes to her own detriment.
Rafe smiled at her. “If we needed him, my boss, his wife, Teague, our other team member Liam, they’d all be on their way down here. Or Quinn would order Walker and his team back here by morning. He was ready to stay and help after he flew me—” he paused and grinned at the dog “—us down here.”
She looked a little awed as she stared at him. Blaine knew the feeling. When he’d called Rafe he’d had no idea it would be like calling out an entire squad to back him up.
Then, as if a bell had rung somewhere, she said briskly, “Shall I tell you where I’ve been, who I’ve talked to, so you can take that off the list?”
Rafe hesitated, and Blaine guessed he knew why and said it for him. “We’re going to talk to them, too. Just in case.”
He knew some people who would have no problem lying to a woman might think twice about lying to a guy like Rafe. Or him, especially if he had Cutter with him.
Blaine was afraid she’d take offense, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply shocked the heck out of him.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “And you must be tired, both of you, traveling all this way. I have a guest room, and the couch isn’t awful to sleep on.”
That startled him. She wanted them to stay? Here, with her? Her ex under the same roof?
The thought of being here with her set off all kinds of danger signals in his head. He opened his mouth to say they had someplace else to stay, but Rafe spoke before he had the chance.
“That will be fine,” he said, and Blaine blinked.
“We’re staying here?” he asked, warily.
Rafe met his gaze then. Steadily, betraying nothing. “I think it’s best somebody stay where Ethan just might return to. It’s been long enough now he might need or want something he left here, or he might get over whatever crisis set him off.”
Damn. He hadn’t thought about that, and he should have. But then, Rafe had said they’d stay at Foxworth. He hadn’t mentioned staying here until Erin had. So what had changed?
Maybe it was just meeting Erin. That’s all it took for you to want to do anything she asked.
“Fine,” he said abruptly. “But I’ll take Ethan’s room. You take the guest room.” He heard Erin’s breath catch, and spun around. “You have a problem with me sleeping in my son’s room?”
“I…no. No, of course not.” Her cheeks were pink again. They always betrayed when she was upset.
Of course, they also betrayed other things.
He’d never forget the time he’d discovered that that slight pinkening of her cheeks could mean something else, too.
That time in the middle of the grocery store when he’d noticed and asked, wondering what on earth could have embarrassed her in the condiments aisle.
I was thinking about how much I’d like to pour some of that honey on you and lick it off…
He’d about lost it right there. Because unlike him she never, ever said things like that, especially out in public. He’d wanted to press her up against the shelves and kiss her until she moaned like she did in bed. Only the fact that they’d probably break those shelves had stopped him.
But he’d tossed three squeeze bottles of honey into the cart.
And that night she’d followed through in one of the hottest, most mind-blowing nights of his life. Of course the cleanup after had been a chore, but they’d done it together, laughing about how neither of them would ever look at a bottle of honey the same way again.
And they both suspected that was the night Ethan had been conceived. Had even joked when they found out that if it was a girl, they were going to have to name her Honey.
Ironic that that night with the honey had fifteen years later brought them to this.