Page 1 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

Chapter One

AUGUST

Two years ago

The clatter of utensils and the sweet scent of maple syrup filled the cozy kitchen. For the third morning in the row, I stood awkwardly by the counter watching James at the stove, flipping pancakes that sizzled as they hit the hot griddle. His daughter, Annie, was in her high chair, her face alight with glee every time a new pancake was added to the stack. I felt like a spare part. Despite me just being here undercover, I knew James saw me as part of his little family; hell, if anyone looked deep enough, they’d see a marriage certificate saying we were married, but it was all pretend, and I still felt awkward.

Adrift.

Maybe I wanted the apple-pie homemaker thing. Maybe I didn’t want gigs like this, which were all I had now that I was no longer a SEAL.

“With skills like mine, I should open a diner,” James joked and sent me a wink. I loved his smile. I loved his wink. I just wished this was real so that, maybe, I could try to love the whole of him. Battered, exhausted, and searching for someone to ground me, I had become part of his world. Despite my fucked-up state, he treated me as if I deserved to be here, rather than someone infiltrating his workplace and home.

“That would mean giving up the law,” I murmured, kind of deadpan, kind of joking, although joking wasn’t my strong suit.

He shot me a wry smile. “Could I give up the courtroom drama? Never.” He slid past me to deposit a pancake on Annie’s plastic plate, blowing on it and adding a small amount of syrup. His expression grew soft as he watched Annie attempt to use her spoon, a dollop of syrup dripping down her chin. I felt a tug of something inside, affection, normality… I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was unnerving and felt wrong sometimes.

I pulled out my phone, pretending to check messages, but in reality, I was taking a moment to etch this ordinary scene into my memory—the safety, the love, the simple pleasure of family, and wondering if, one day, I could make sense of everything so I could have this for real.

“You know, yesterday, Annie said ‘pancake’ clear as day,” James said, a note of pride in his voice as he transferred the last pancake onto the plate.

“Is that so?” I turned to Annie, who was now more syrup than toddler. There it was—my own flash of pride for the little girl who’d wormed her way into my heart. “Annie, can you say ‘pancake’?”

She beamed, syrupy spoon in hand, and declared, “Cake!”

“Close enough,” James laughed.

I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun streaming through the window. James and his daughter were a family, and this is what I’d fought so hard to protect, and why I’d agreed to this undercover gig in the first place.

Not that I had many options aside from mercenary work, which sucked big time.

“I meant to say,” James began, and I steeled myself for the usual demand he made when I left the house to work. “I know we’re not…” he lowered his voice as if Annie would understand. “…y’know, married for real, but if you can, just…send a message when you’re about to, y’know…”

“Work my cover to infiltrate the bad guy’s lair?” I deadpanned.

He flushed. “I know it’s not always possible, but?—”

“I will if I can, promise,” I reassured him, because we might not be in love or really married, but I liked the guy, and Annie, a whole lot. I glanced at my watch and then, at Annie, who was now trying to feed her pancake to Buzzy-Bear, her beloved teddy bear.

James nodded, a smile flickering over his lips, but his eyes betrayed the worry that never quite left them these days. “Annie, sweetheart, Buzzy-Bear doesn’t eat pancakes. Remember?” he chided and petted her hair.

“Buzzy!” Annie’s protest was obvious, her tiny fingers trying to push a piece of pancake into the teddy’s stitched mouth.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe Buzzy-Bear would prefer to dance over here?” I suggested, taking the teddy, and making it dance in front of her, earning a giggle from Annie and a grateful look from James. This wasn’t me—I didn’t plan on kids in my life; hell, I didn’t plan on family.

“Only a few days now,” James whispered as he passed back to the stove.

I nodded; I think I even smiled. A few more days and the intel he’d collected, and the research I’d done, would finally come to where we could take down the first piece of the sprawling cartel with its payoffs and inside deals, and watch as each domino toppled.

“I’m outside,” a voice echoed in my earpiece. Max, the other cover on this op—standing in as James’s driver—was parked out front of the house in the limo. No one lifted an eyebrow that someone from a family as rich as James’s, with all their influence, would have a car and driver.

“Roger that. They’ll be out in five.”

“Got it.”

James sent me a cautious smile. He’d asked me last night if, one day, I might stop all of this. After all, I'd done my time as a SEAL, and this private work would end one day. I couldn’t answer him, then, and I certainly hadn’t woken up with any resolution to the question. The prospect of transitioning to something outside this kind of life—action, drama, guns—made me a hundred times more than just anxious, and I couldn’t help but question whether I could be anything other than a warrior. For years, I’d dedicated myself to the mission, embracing the hardships and honing my skills, and it was my identity. Faced with the possibility of having a family and a different kind of life, I wondered if I could ever leave the mindset of a soldier behind. It was a delusion thinking I could be someone I wasn’t.

Annie babbled, her little legs kicking with excitement in the high chair as James cleaned up.

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