Page 62 of Fight for You
The only hug teenage me had ever received, so maybe I had nothing whereby to assess it.
As she clung to me, she spoke, her mouth practically warming through my womb because of how short she was. “I’m only supposed to give everyone a flower when they leave. You stepped out before the offering, by the way. That’s okay. Some rich people don’t even put a dollar in the bucket. But-but I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I asked, secretly reveling in the tiny arms wrapped around me.
“Sorry you didn’t have a childhood like mine. Anyway, He didn’t ask me to talk to you. He just told me to hug you.”
“Who?” My voice was barely a whisper this time. “Who told you to hug me?”
She’d smiled up at me. “Jesus.”
22
BIG BEAR
Jamie
“Enzo. What are you doing, man?”I asked, holding my cell phone to my ear. He’d called me the second I stood to come outside and think. The memories of Governor Hagerty had started forming fast, and I’d told him about it. He’d heard me screaming and fighting in my sleep during a mission, so he already had an idea. Now, he knew everything.
How Nolan manipulated me. How I placed distance between me and my clan because, beneath the anger and misunderstanding, I needed someone to rage on.
I’d raged on the wrong people. My … clan.
Sighing, my gaze fixed on the lake. Now, I saw a memory where my friend Lorenzo G. Ferri and I stood back-to-back, ensuring our survival. When I took a kill shot that could’ve taken him out, his nonna would bring me her famous lasagna. When he took a kill shot that had my name on it, well, I’d handle dinner and drinks. This Italian tossed back too many beers.
On the phone, Enzo chuckled. “If you need a play-by-play, okay, I got you. As we speak, I’ve opened my top load canvas?—”
“Cut the crap.”
“—stuffing in clothes that I hope are clean. Combat Training 101: Unpleasant smells can reveal your location during war. Then I’ll catch the next flight to Los Angeles. Where I assume you’ll meet me since I’m not flying from North Carolina toSan Bernardino, renting a car, driving up a mountain to taxi your?—”
“I get that part. But …” The thought of expiring President pro tem Hagerty and its potential consequences crossed my mind as I rubbed the back of my neck.
“No. Buts. Who’s gonna do recon? Should I surf the internet for the whereabouts of the third in the line of succession? Nah.” In the background, keys jingled. “I’ll ask our girl, Howard. We must handle this with discretion.”
Howard worked in Marine Corps Cyberspace Ops. She’d been our guy—or girl—when we needed intel in the past.
“I’ve already had her,” Enzo said, “so she’ll want dinner. You know how women think so highly of themselves after you return for another round in the sack. You know she’s a girly girl out of camo. So, I’ll want my money back for her lobster dinner. Or … she still asks me about y?—”
“Not interested.”
“You know, I wondered about that until I opened up my phone and saw TikTok. Okay, Mr. One Woman Man.”
What was with him and Jordyn andMr. titles? I said, “Not tonight. Tonight won’t work.”
“Actually, it will.” The roar of Enzo’s Charger swallowed up my attempt to retort. “I’m driving to the airport. I’m unarmed, so TSA will be a breeze. Flight leaves in an hour. I just followed him on X. Hagerty will host some diplomats at a dinner. We could wait for him to go golfing or something, but he’s not preemptive. All his golf photos seem after the fact, and I’m not catching a trend.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about weapons. You’ll spot me. When do you get to Los Angeles?”
“Land at LAX at 1800 hours. And copy. I’ll spot you.”
Six p.m. I had six hours. I’d arrive in half that time and use the remainder to scope out the location of the dinner. “Let’s do it.”
I pressed the Off switch on the impenetrable burner phone, did an about-face, and strolled inside. From my position next to a recliner, I watched Jordyn, one hand on her curvy hip. She faced the open refrigerator, a newer stainless-steel model than I’d last seen, back to me. Man, I could watch her all day. I’d need to put some food in us first, take care of my hunger pains, and ensure she didn’t lose a single blessed pound back there.
She stared into the open fridge.
“Do we need to make a grocery run?” At my voice, she practically hit her head on the ceiling. “Jordyn, what’s wrong?”
