Chapter 9
L ately Ethan’s life had been nothing but work. It seemed as if every terror cell in the world had pooled their resources and decided to act in one capacity or another. In three weeks he went to eight different countries on assignment. His social life was at a virtual standstill. He had no time and energy for friends, let alone dating. Though lately he didn’t much have the heart for the game he had once loved. Maybe he was getting too old for it. Recently it seemed like when saw a pretty woman who gave him all the right signals, he couldn’t seem to make himself engage. What he wanted most at the end of a long workweek was sleep and then coffee and then more sleep. He was beginning to understand why Ridge had transitioned away from being a field agent. How long could he reasonably keep up with the demands of his job? He wasn’t yet thirty, and he was exhausted.
He had always loved his job, first in the navy, then as a SEAL, and now as an undercover agent. He thrived on adventure, on taking chances, on doing things few other people in the world could do. But lately the job had lost its shine. Who cared that he was on an elite task force when he had no one to tell? Even his family back home in Vermont had no idea what he did. Ridge and Maggie were lucky they worked together and could share the stress of their job. They didn’t have to keep secrets. Ethan realized the direction of his thoughts and groaned. Just a few months ago he had been making fun of Ridge at his wedding, and now he was beginning to envy him. It wasn’t that he was ready to settle down, per se, more that he was ready for someone to share things with, to unload the burden a little, to not feel so alone in the world. When he was in the SEALs, they were his brothers. They still were, but most of them had wives now. Some of them had kids. It wasn’t the same as it had been; they weren’t a team anymore. They were friends, busy friends who rarely had the time or energy to get together anymore.
Now it was Saturday, his first weekend off in a month and his first morning home after a whirlwind trip to Somalia. He sat at his tiny table in his tiny apartment, trying not to wonder if this was all there was to life: work, sleep, repeat, wake up alone, go to bed alone, repeat, repeat, repeat. It had seemingly been forever since he’d gone on a date, even longer since he’d attempted an actual girlfriend. He had always insisted he wasn’t boyfriend material, but lately he was beginning to rethink things. What would it be like to be in an actual relationship? Would he get tired of being with the same person, as he feared he might? Or would it be nice to have the security of knowing someone, of digging deep and delving into secrets? What would happen when they got over the surface stuff and hit flaws? Could he be with someone messy? Could someone be with him with all his emotional baggage and liabilities?
A newspaper lay open in front of him, and it was doubtless why he was feeling so morose this morning. A picture of Amelia blared out from the society section, ensconced on the arm of Piedmont Bonvoy at some charity event. She looked radiant, as if she belonged to high society and all the trappings that went with it. Bonvoy was looking at her like she was his every dream come true, and she probably was. Ethan didn’t even normally read the paper, but he had glimpsed it in the airport yesterday, had glimpsed Amelia, and plunked down the money for it before he even realized what he was doing. He hadn’t talked to her in weeks. Had she thought about him? Probably not. She was too busy living it up with her famous lawyer boyfriend. He was officially her boyfriend now. Ethan knew because the magazine article described her as the “Serious girlfriend of Piedmont Bonvoy.” Serious? When had that come about? Last Ethan knew, they were keeping it casual. Of course that had been weeks ago, before he became busy settling the world’s problems on another continent while Bonvoy stayed home and argued over money in court, nice and cozy. Not that Ethan was bitter.
He tossed the paper away and sipped his coffee. A loud knock rapped on the door, and he jumped, sloshing coffee on the paper and table. “Great, now I’m turning into a nervous old lady,” he muttered, using a napkin to wipe up the coffee before it could spread.
For one wild, hopeful second, he thought maybe it was Amelia come to catch up. She knew he’d been busy with work because he told her he’d be occupied with a big project. He didn’t think for a minute she believed he worked in the private sector, but she’d never called him on the lie, and for that he was grateful. They had been well on their way to becoming good friends before he left, texting most days and talking on the phone occasionally on others. And now he hadn’t spoken to her in six weeks. Six weeks, three days, and fourteen hours, to be exact.
But it wasn’t Amelia at the door. “Officers, what can I do for you?” he asked, mentally running through the list of why two units were at his door. He had done a lot of things the local police would consider illegal but were allowed by his job and federal law. It was complex. Usually the police looked the other way and pretended they didn’t know what the feds were up to when they skirted in and out of places they shouldn’t be with unseen weapons. But occasionally one of the locals got something in his craw and it came to a head. Of course that was only if they got caught, which Ethan hadn’t been. The only weapon currently in his possession was his service pistol.
The two officers stood on the doorstep serious and unsmiling. One of them assessed Ethan while the other let his eyes roam around the interior of the apartment. Ethan shifted his weight, blocking the view on principal. “We’ve had a complaint,” the first officer said, the one who didn’t have roaming eyes.
“What kind of complaint?” Ethan asked. It couldn’t be a noise complaint because he hadn’t been home for weeks.
“Stalking,” the first officer answered.
“What?” Ethan said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve had a complaint, a serious and credible complaint, that you’ve been stalking and harassing a woman,” the officer said.
“What woman?” Ethan asked.
“Amelia Eldridge,” the first officer said, and Ethan started to laugh.
“What are you guys, like rent a cops? Okay, she got me, I’m a stalker.” He put up his hands in surrender and, quick as a wink, the second cop cuffed him.
“You think this is funny?” the first cop said.
“Yeah, I think this is a joke,” Ethan said. “Is Amelia out there?” He tried to glance behind them, but the cop who had cuffed him slammed him against the wall.
“Don’t move,” he growled.
“Hey, whoa, wait a minute. You guys are going a little far here,” Ethan said. “Did Amelia set this up or not?”
“We haven’t spoken with the victim. The complainant was her boyfriend.”
Ethan blinked in rapid succession a few times. Did Bonvoy set this up? Or was it real? Amelia’s boyfriend might actually have a beef with him, if he knew about their fledgling friendship. Was he the sort of man who would take out the competition by any means necessary?
“I have never stalked a woman in my life. I’m sure Amelia would tell you the same thing, if you asked her.” It was better to play along, on the off chance these guys were legit.
“Do you mind if we take a look around?” the first cop asked.
“Yes, I very much do,” Ethan said.
“Too bad, we have a warrant.”
“I want to see it, and some ID,” Ethan demanded. The cops pulled out their badges and held the warrant aloft for him to inspect. If they were forgeries, they were exact replicas. “Fine, take a look around.”
“Oh, thanks for the permission,” the second cop said sarcastically, tucking the warrant back in his pocket. He made his way into the bedroom while the first cop stayed with Ethan, letting his eyes roam over the interior of the apartment. Ethan had no idea what they were hoping or expecting to find.
“You going to let me out of these cuffs?” he asked.
“Not until we’re satisfied there’s nothing to see here,” the first cop said. Ethan tried hard to keep a cap on his temper. He wasn’t accustomed to being treated so by guys who were supposedly on the same team. When this was over and everything had been sorted out, he would let them know his opinions on the matter, in no uncertain terms. Until then, cooperation was his best option.
“Larry, you gotta see this,” the cop who was in his bedroom called. Larry went into the bedroom, tugging Ethan along beside him. They entered the room and stopped short.
“Whoa,” Larry said. Before them was a massive poster on the wall, cutout pictures of Amelia covering it completely. Below that was a half-burned candle and a letter made out of magazine cutouts. Ethan couldn’t read it, but it seemed to be some kind of plea or threat.
“Okay then,” Larry drawled. When he was finally able to tear his eyes off the picture, he turned to Ethan. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can or will…”
“You’re mirandizing me? What for?” Ethan demanded.
“Stalking, terrorizing, threatening, you name it,” the second cop said.
“But I’ve never seen that before,” Ethan said. His patience was at an end. He twisted out of the first cop’s grasp and saw them both place a hand on their weapons.
“I think we’re going to need some backup,” the second cop said.
“For sure,” the first cop agreed.
“Wait, what?” Ethan demanded, spinning in a circle to try and face both of them. “What is going on?”
“Backup,” the first cop yelled, and now Ethan spun toward the doorway in time to see Amelia enter in a too-big cop uniform.
“You called?” she said, hanging onto the doorpost and leaning into the room.
“We’re going to need some help with this one,” the first cop, “Larry” said.
“I think I’ve got it from here, guys. Thanks so much.” She patted their backs as they left the room and filed past her. Ethan watched in silence as she made her way into the room and stared at the poster of her.
“Ethan, this is a sickness. You need help,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who needs help, and I’m positive you’re going to need it after I get these cuffs off,” he said.
“Oh, shoot, I forgot to get the key from them,” Amelia said, giving him a devilish grin.
“You think I need a key to get out of cuffs?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Do you?” she asked.
He got out of the cuffs and placed them in her upturned palm.
“Hmm, what an interesting skill for a regional representative of an indexing firm to possess,” she said.
He made no reply.
“How was your trip to ‘Canada’?”
“It was ‘good’,” he said, mimicking her air quotes. “It would seem as though you missed me.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“A hunch,” he said. “I saw your picture in the paper.”
He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed to blush. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
There was an awkward lull. “I should probably go,” she said. She took a step away, but he caught her hand.
“Don’t go.” He swallowed and let go of her hand. “We have a lot of catching up to do. Friend stuff.”
“I did bring breakfast,” she admitted sheepishly.
“It’s my favorite meal of the day,” he said.
“Maybe you can tell me about Canada, in the vaguest possible terms,” she said.
“It was surprisingly hot, almost like I was at the equator,” he said.
“Funny how that seems to happen a lot in your line of work,” she said. They shared a smile and she snapped to attention. “Breakfast.”
“Right, breakfast,” he agreed. He motioned for her to walk in front of him and brewed a fresh pot of coffee when they arrived at the kitchen. Amelia set out the pastries and breakfast sandwiches she’d brought, enough to feed a half dozen more people.
“That’s a lot of food,” he noted.
“Better to have too much than not enough,” she returned. They sat and filled their plates, waiting for the coffee to finish. “How was your trip, really?”
“Exhausting,” he said.
“International travel is probably not as glamorous as I imagine,” she said.
“Not the way I do it,” he said.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Thank you?”
“I meant that in a concerned way, not a put down. Are you doing all right?” Her feet searched for a place to land on the tall uncomfortable bar stools that served as his dining chairs. He should really invest in some grownup, quality furniture one of these days. He took her feet and settled them in his lap, leaving his hand to rest lightly on her ankle.
“I’m doing all right,” he told her.
“Ethan,” she pressed.
He sighed. “It’s…I don’t know.”
“Stressful?” she guessed.
“Yes, but not in the way that you might think. When I was in the SEALs, it was stressful, but like ‘save the person’ stressful or ‘do the thing before the bomb blows up’ stressful. The new job is ‘do the thing for vague reasons and then get yelled at by a committee’ stressful.”
“You can quit and find a new job. With your skills, any indexing firm would be happy to have you,” she said.
“This is the path you’re supposed to follow when you leave the SEALs. Otherwise, why go?” he said.
“Who says? Make your own path. What’s your end game? What do you want to do? If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”
“Coach football,” he blurted without thinking. “But not really. I mean, nobody does that for a living, do they?”
“Actually, a lot of people do,” she said.
“But I was a Navy SEAL. I worked unbelievably hard to get that position, and then I left it for a presumably better position. How crazy would it be to leave my current job to coach high school football?”
“What’s wrong with crazy? Do you know what my degree is in?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Actuarial science. I spent four years training to take on one of the highest paying jobs in the country. I took math courses that would bore you on name alone, dozens of them. I had five job offers at the start of my junior year. And then I walked away to color and blow dry hair for a living. But, guess what, I love doing hair and makeup. It brings me joy to help bring out the best in other people.”
“So you’re, like, crazy smart, in addition to everything else,” he surmised.
“Yep, I’m the total package,” she said, stealing a bite of his half-finished croissant.
“Hey, don’t poach my food,” he complained, reaching for her too-sweet coffee. He took his black, but occasionally he liked it loaded with cream and sugar, as hers was now. He drained her coffee and sat back. “What?” he asked when she continued to stare at him.
“It doesn’t bother you to share food and drinks?” she asked.
“Should it? Do you have cooties?” he asked.
She nodded, and for some reason the moment turned tense and serious. Ethan’s eyes fell to her lips. He could remember how they felt on his down to the minutest detail, and he was shocked to realize she was the last person he’d kissed. How had he gone so long without a date? Amelia’s feel and smell and even her taste seemed permanently imprinted on him, but how could he expect anything else when he had basically been living a monastic existence?
“Ethan,” she whispered. With effort, he pulled his gaze from her lips back up to her eyes. “Tell me why you want to coach football.”
The question took a few seconds to register. He swallowed hard and tried to focus. “I didn’t have the best family life, growing up. Football was my salvation, my ticket out. When I was on the field, everything was okay. My coach became like a father to me. It was he who encouraged me to do well, on and off the field, he who made sure my grades were up to snuff, and he who encouraged me into the navy, even into the SEALs. I’d like to think I could one day have that sort of impact on someone.”
“I’m sure you will, at least on your own children,” she said.
“I’m not sure I ever want kids,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t have the best example. I don’t want to be a screwed up dad.”
“But you said you did have a good example in your coach. And I think to be a screwed up dad, you’d have to be a screwed up man to begin with. You’re not a screwup. You’re a noble man of good character,” she said.
“A noble man of good character,” he repeated. “I have never heard anyone talk that way in real life.” Despite the scoffing, he was pleased by her words. “Is Piedmont Bonvoy a noble man of good character?”
“Do you think I would date anyone who wasn’t?” she countered.
“I don’t think you should. Whether you would is another story. Sometimes women do unimaginable things. Sometimes they date total losers, men who take them for granted, who use and abuse them.”
“I know my worth, and I’m not willing to settle,” she assured him.
“I’m glad to hear that, Amelia, because if I thought he was mistreating you…” he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
“What?” she prompted.
What would he do if he thought someone was hurting her? He searched his mental inventory as he stared at her and she watched him, awaiting an answer. “I’d probably kill him.”
She shuddered. “Don’t joke like that.”
“What makes you think I’m joking? There aren’t a lot of people I genuinely care about. For those I do, I’d go to any lengths to protect and keep them safe.”
“You worry me sometimes, Ethan Becket.”
“I worry myself sometimes, Amelia Melly. Were those real cops?”
“No. Larry’s my neighbor. The other guy was his friend from acting class. Blue doctored up the badges and warrant for me. He’s really good at forgery. It’s amazing how the people who work at my sister’s company have so many secret, interesting talents: hacking, forgery, speaking Arabic, training in hand-to-hand combat.”
“The corporate world is a jungle,” he said. He smiled, but it still looked a little sad.
She rested her hand on his wrist. “Hey, you are loved, you know that, right? You have a whole circle of people who care desperately about you.”
He eased his arm backwards, sliding her hand from his wrist to his fingers, lacing them together. “I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just lacking a bit of direction at the moment.”
“Sometimes vets have trouble readjusting to civilian life,” she said.
“I’m not exactly a civilian,” he said.
She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he realized he had just admitted the truth of his job to her, at least in part.
“I mean, working at an indexing firm is kind of like war, you know?” He squeezed her hand.
“I’m onto you,” she said.
“Yeah? Tell me what you’re onto.”
“You keep up this charm offensive to hold everyone at arms length. You try to pretend you don’t care about anything, but you care about everything too much. Beneath the tough soldier act, you’re a fluffy marshmallow. I bet you love babies and puppies.”
“Who doesn’t love babies and puppies?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to say something and closed it again immediately.
“Piedmont doesn’t like babies and puppies,” he guessed, smiling in triumph.
“It’s not like that. He’s a cat person, and he’s never been exposed to children, being that he’s an only child and basically came out of the birth canal doing complex calculus.”
“Is that what you guys have in common? Your deep love of math?” Ethan said.
“Yes, we share a passionate love of math,” she said, her temper flaring.
Ethan’s smile fled. “Gross, Amelia. I don’t actually want to know what goes on between you two.”
“Then don’t ask,” she snapped.
“Do you love him, really?” he asked.
She looked away. “I haven’t said the words yet, but it’s heading there.”
“And where do I fit into that equation?” he wondered.
“We’re friends. We already established that,” she reminded him.
“And will we still be friends if you and he get married?” he asked. His hand trailed lightly over her ankle.
“Everyone’s relationships change after marriage. I’ve barely seen Maggie, and she’s my sister,” Amelia said.
“You’re sidestepping. You know as well as I do he wouldn’t like it if he knew you were here right now, that he wouldn’t like it if he knew we were friends.”
“That’s not true, he’s not the jealous type,” she said.
“If he’s male and breathing, he’s the jealous type.” She shook her head. “Does he know you’re here? Does he know we text and call?”
She shook her head again.
He sat back with a smile of triumph. Amelia sat up, removing her legs from his lap. “Don’t make me feel guilty. Nothing has happened between us. I haven’t once cheated on Piedmont. You and I are friends, nothing more.”
“Nothing has happened between us. You haven’t once cheated on Piedmont. You and I are friends, but there’s something more. You know it, and I know it, so let’s do ourselves a favor and not pretend it’s not there when we both feel it.”
She stood and began collecting things into her basket. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”
“I know my worth, and I’m not willing to settle,” he said.
“Good, great, awesome,” she said, tossing items pell-mell into the basket in her haste to get away.
“You seem awfully uptight for someone who’s doing nothing wrong,” he noted, amused.
She paused to glare at him. “Don’t tease me about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you make me feel like I’m doing something wrong,” she said.
“Maybe you are, but not the way you think,” he said.
“Huh?” she asked.
“Maybe he’s not the one you’re hurting because he’s not the one you’re supposed to be with,” he suggested.
“We’ve been over this, Ethan,” she said.
“Have we?”
“Yes. You want me because you can’t have me, because I’m with Piedmont. If I were available, you’d…” she broke off and shook her head.
“I’d what?” he prompted.
“You tell me. And be honest, for both our sakes.”
He took a breath and reached for her hand again, clasping it and holding it against his rapidly thumping heart. “If you were available, maybe I would realize you’re the best thing that’s ever come along. Maybe I’d fall for you, so deep and so hard I wouldn’t realize other women exist anymore. Maybe I would get my act together and be ready to be the kind of man you need me to be.”
“Maybe,” she repeated sadly. “You want me to upend my life for maybe, but I can’t, and I won’t. And so we’re friends. The end.”
He released a pent up breath of frustration. “Don’t you realize how far I’ve come to get to where we are now?”
“Yes, I very much do. But I’m afraid I need all the way or nothing at all.” She wanted to hug him. He could read it in her expression. Her arms lifted and then she forced them down again because she was afraid. She was afraid if she hugged him, it wouldn’t be enough, that she would lose control and give in to him completely. He admired her self-control because he was lacking it altogether.
“You should go now,” he said. It was all he could do to release her hand and watch her walk away, which she did without needing to be told twice. Before she shut the door, she turned and gave him one sad, little smile, and she was gone.