Page 46 of Marked

She hops up onto the counter and spreads her legs, giving me room to step between them.

“You’ve thought of everything.” She rests her arms on my shoulders, running her fingers through my hair. It’s so casual. So normal, these little touches.

A warmth I’m not used to runs through me, and I lean into her hands. “Have I?” I kiss her cheek, then her neck.

“Yeah.” She tenses. “Were you this methodical in the military?”

“I was.”

“And they didn’t want you to stay?”

“No, baby.” I kiss her cheek. “They didn’t like how I got rid of bad guys.”

Her eyes narrow. “But you were a soldier. Didn’t you do what they trained you to do?”

I shake my head.

“Not always. I wouldn’t let them get away with hurting people who didn’t deserve it. That’s why I got out.” A medical discharge, instead of a court-martial, because they didn’t want the publicity that would go along with the trial. Killing an Afghan commander while he was balls deep in a fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t have been a good look for us. Our own commanding officer had brought him to the tent, and that would have been bad for relations.

“Okay. So, we find Vince.” She sighs. “Then what?”

I line up my eyes with hers and smile.

“We kill him, little bird. We kill him.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? Us being out?” I ask, while gesturing to the next street for Zack to make his turn.

“It’s fine. I have it handled,” he assures me again, and I trust him. It’s been so long since I met someone and didn’t second guess their motives or their words. What Zack says is what he means.

“Okay.” I sigh. “She’s the last house on the right.”

Mom’s outside, watering the rose garden Dad put in when I was a kid. She’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat, and has on her gardening gloves. She must have been weeding; the knees of her denim capris have green spots on them.

She turns off the hose when she sees us climb out of Zack’s car and turns a bright smile at me.

“Harley.” She plucks off her gloves. “I wasn’t expecting you, honey.” She hugs me and kisses my left cheek.

“Sorry. I tried calling, but you must have been out here already.” I gesture to the garden. “The roses are looking good this year.”

She sighs, like keeping up with them is a heavyburden.

“They are. Your dad would be happy.” She turns to Zack. “And who’s this?” She lifts her left eyebrow at me.

“This is Zack.” I link my arm through his.

“Well. Hello, Zack.” Mom offers her hand with a smile, and he takes it.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Turner.” He turns his attention to the garden. The front of the house is reserved for roses, and she’s done an amazing job keeping what Dad planted and adding even more. It really is beautiful. “You definitely have a green thumb.”

She laughs.

“I’m a forced gardener. I only keep this up because it would have made my husband happy.” Her smile twitches a little on the edges. “What are you two up to today?” She asks.

“You messaged me yesterday about the upstairs toilet running. Did you get it fixed?” I ask.

“Oh. No, but you didn’t have run over here for that. It can wait, I don’t go up there that often.” She gathers up the bucket of weeds and the small shovel. “But since you’re here.” She grins and leads us into the house.

After dropping her things in the mudroom just off the front entrance, we climb the short set of stairs to the living room.

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