Page 37 of Love Me Knot

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.

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