Chapter 7 Kieren
KIEREN
Light raindrops fall as I escort the client into the brown brick building where her meeting is taking place. On the other side of the woman is Jodie, her head bent inwards as the politician talks to her.
The white shirt of Jodie’s security uniform shows her heavy breasts to perfection, the fabric sticking to her skin where the drops of rain land.
I try not to stare at her, but it’s hard when she looks so damn good dressed up in a uniform.
Whatever inspired Bronn to get her on the job, I’ll never know, but I’m grateful.
It makes me wonder if he knows about us, if Seth has told him anything.
I decide I don’t care. I get to spend the day with Jodie and that’s all that matters.
One day to convince her that I’m the man she needs me to be.
The politician reaches the front door, and her aide opens it for her. It’s a private residence, and we’re not invited inside. Whatever threat we’re protecting her from, real or perceived, hasn’t materialized in the short drive from the airport to her meeting.
The woman talks quietly to Jodie, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Jodie responds with a flurry of hand activity and a furrowed brow. The aide holds an umbrella over the both of them while I stand by stoically in the rain and wonder what the hell they’re talking about.
“Thank you for your insight,” the politician says to Jodie, giving her arm a squeeze before disappearing into the house.
I look at Jodie with a raised eyebrow, but she only smiles mysteriously at me.
With the politician safely inside, we retreat to the waiting car. The rain falls heavier, and I jog ahead to open the car door for Jodie.
Once she’s inside, I scoot around to the other side of the car and slide into the back seat next to her. It’s a stretched limo that smells of expensive leather and good coffee, and we’ve got it to ourselves for the rest of the morning.
“So, what were you two chatting about?”
Jodie gives me a secretive smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes, I would. It might be important for security.”
Jodie snort laughs, and I’m reminded of the carefree girl I met eighteen months ago.
“She was asking me how I felt about recent policy changes, wanted a laypersons point of view, I guess.”
“She didn’t ask me.” I turn away, mock offended.
“No. I get the feeling she wanted a woman’s opinion.”
“And did you give her your opinion?”
“I certainly did.”
I think about the heated look on Jodie’s face and smile.
“I’m sure you did.” I love the fact that Jodie’s opinionated. It’s what kept us up talking through the night on that first weekend together.
She smiles back at me, her eyes dancing.
I want to keep that look on her face, the carefree, challenging look that I fell in love with. I want to emulate that weekend, where we talked for hours, sharing our thoughts and opinions on everything apart from ourselves.
“So, what have you been doing with yourself for the last eighteen months?”
Jodie’s face shuts down immediately, and she visibly seems to retreat. It’s the wrong thing to say, and I don’t know why.
“Not much,” she mumbles, turning to look out the rain-stained window.
She’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but I’m determined to find out.
“You been back to the Sea Hopper?”
She shakes her head. “Not since…” Her sentence trails off as she shakes her head, lost in her own thoughts.
I get the feeling that weekend is painful for her somehow, which gives me hope in a sick way. Maybe it means she does care, that it did mean as much to her as it did to me.
“I’ve been back loads.”
She looks around sharply, and a hint of jealousy flashes across her face before she turns back to the window.
I can’t hide my satisfaction. She doesn’t like the idea of me going out to bars. She probably thinks I’ve been picking up women, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I went back looking for you.”
Jodie’s gaze darts to mine, and there’s a glimmer of hope in them. That look is all I need to keep going, to give me hope that I might be able to break down the wall she’s constructed around herself to keep me out.
I sidle across the seat and hook my leg up so I’m facing her.
“I was deployed the day after we…” I was about to say hooked up, but that doesn’t do justice to what I felt that weekend, to the connection we had. “The day after that weekend.”
She looks up at me again, her hazel eyes round and wide.
“Thank you for your service. I’m not sure I ever said that to you before.”
I wave a hand dismissively. I don’t need her thanks. I should be the one thanking her.
“When I was over there, I knew it would be my last tour.”
I look down at my hands, trying to find the words to explain what I felt, the crushing buildup in my chest of twenty years of service, the emptiness with every mission—with every kill.
When I first joined, I had a conscience. I used to feel things deeply. I remember my first kill. It threw me for weeks. I couldn’t eat or sleep properly with the horror of what I’d done.
But by the last mission, I felt nothing, only a hollowness, an emptiness every time I pulled the trigger.
I was exactly what the Army needed me to be: a trained, heartless killer.
That’s when I knew it was time to get out.
But I can’t tell Jodie any of this. I can’t let her see that dark part of my heart. All I can show her is how she healed me without even knowing.
When I look up again, she’s watching me with compassion in her eyes as if she can see into my very soul.
“It got bad, this tour. I can’t tell you details, but something went wrong, and it was a bad retreat.”
I run a hand over my eyes. Our missions as a Special Forces team were dangerous, covert, ruthless.
I can’t tell her what happened, and I don’t want to anyway. Jodie doesn’t need to know the details of what we do to keep this country safe.
“Every time I felt myself going to a dark place, do you know what I did?”
She shakes her head slightly.
“I thought about you. The way your eyes light up when you laugh, your hair spread out on my pillow, the scent of jasmine from the bodywash you use.”
My hands take hers, and she doesn’t pull away.
“I thought about your lips pressed to mine, the way your body felt against me.”
Jodie’s lips part, and her breathing gets heavy. I move forward, wanting, needing her to understand what she means to me.
“You’re my guiding light, Jodie. You’re what got me through the hard times. Just you.”