Page 12 of Legacy
She clears her throat and crosses her ballet flats at the ankle, watching me fiddle with my hair. “You’re the woman who made it through SEAL training.” Her voice is clear, concise.
“I am,” I reply.
“You’re also Henry Durnin’s ex.”
I lose my breath. There’s no sense in denying it. “That will be an unfortunate confirmation. Yes.”
“I knew it. I knew it!” she exclaims. “No one believed me, but I recognized you when you walked in and put two and two together when I saw who you were hanging with. A quick Google proved me right. You are so much prettier in person.”
Women’s intuition. People downplay it far too often. This hostess pegged my life with a swift study and one internet search.
“Way prettier in person.” She raises her brows as she glances at her phone, presumably to look at whatever ugly photo of me is there.
I wince. “Thanks. I think?”
“I read all of the tabloids,” the woman says, pausing to look at me closer. “You’re really beautiful. They made you look like a sewer creature in Pink Flash.”
I hate that tabloid the most. They were horrifyingly mean toward me. Made up stories constantly. My stomach tenses.
“Congrats, by the way,” she says. “I was rooting for you before I knew who you were.”
The media picked up the story of the first female Navy SEAL candidate about halfway through my training. Lt. Williams has been a shark in protecting me in all ways. She has a law degree and a pension for women’s rights. Having her on my side is one of my greatest benefits. She’s also the reason all of my teammates are afraid of me. I’m never certain what side of the double-edged sword I should fall on.
“Thanks for that,” I reply. “Could you, ah, not say anything tonight?” I was warned by my mom that it was going to get pretty crazy when word got out about my completion and pinning as a SEAL. My mom runs the CJJ Public Relations office in San Diego and she’s going to try her best to control everything possible.
“Of course,” the girl says, lying. “I won’t say a word.”
Smiling, I thank her and exit the restroom. I pull out my phone and text my mom to whine about being recognized. It’s hard enough trying to fit in with a bunch of alpha males without people hounding me to see what I look like and where I came from.
She texts back immediately as I lean against the wall in the dimly lit hallway.
Mom:Come to the office on Monday so we can get ahead of it. We planned to give them a story in a week, might as well do it a little earlier than that. Just a small bio about who you are with a photo. Maybe that will appease the masses for a while. It’s a big deal, Aara. It’s your life, so you don’t think anything of it, but people are going to always be curious. It’s the nature of the beast.
Sighing, I recognize the truth in her words. I reply that I’ll see her Monday and tell her I love her.
Mom:Forever and ever.
There’s a lump in my throat when I push off the wall and let another girl slide past me and into the restroom. Four men are looming where I need to pass to get back to my table.
“Hey there,” one says. He has blond hair, greasy skin, and a death wish. The way his eyes roam over my body, I know nothing he says next is going to be pleasant. It’s an awful fact of life as a woman. We know immediately when there’s a threat in the atmosphere. Lucky for me, I’m not an ordinary woman. “Let me buy you a drink,” he says, his buddies smirking, standing down behind him.
“No thanks,” I say, keeping my chin held high.
Big nasty dude replies, “That’s not nice. Why don’t you give me a smile, thank me for my offer, and have a drink with me? That’s what a good girl would do.”
Okay, so this is where my eyes should bug out of my head. The part where my stomach sinks. Reality sets in. But I’m Aarabelle Dempsey and I might need my friend here tonight for confidence, but I don’t need help withthis.
I step closer, shoulders tight and body humming. “Excuse me? Did you just tell me what to do? No one tells me what to do.”
It’s crowded in Mayton’s now. I bet the place is packed beyond code. This tiny hallway conceals me from my friends outside.
The man moves toward me, unfazed by my words and hostile posture. “Come on, sweetie. One drink. I’ll make sure you have a good time.” He steps toward me, his left foot forward, his right-hand snaking around my waist. The same time his sweaty hand meets my body, Luke appears, a brawny, commanding presence that morphs the atmosphere—lights it with danger.
“Need anything, Little Dempsey?” Luke drawls. His voice holds a bit of sarcasm, but his eyes are like loaded guns as they take in the man with his damn hand onmyfucking body.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Nope.” With my right hand, I take his filthy arm from my waist and circle it so it bends an unnatural way, forcing his back to me, and his knees to hit the floor. I bend his arm behind his head and circle his neck with my left arm. “I can take care of this.” I finish speaking once I know I have him locked. He isn’t moving. He can’t.
Luke laughs, folding his arms across his chest. Dagger is now next to him causing a scene with his cackle.
