Page 17 of Heston
Tugging his earphones off, he tipped forward and put his elbows on his knees. “How’d Quantico work out for you, London? Was FBI training as tough as they say it is? Did you like it? Why aren’t you still working there?”
London shrugged. Might as well rip the band-aid off and get it over with. “I washed out.”
“Oh? How’d that happen? Talk to me. I’d like to know. You were so excited that night. So ready to work for the Bureau, and you are smart. I remember how smart.”
“You do?” She coughed to get the surprise out of her voice. “But, well, yeah. Training was, ah, brutal. I could run, jump, and shoot, sure. Got high scores in those disciplines, and I passed every other test with flying colors. But” —Damn this was hard— “FBI concussion protocol is strict for trainees. First time I went to the mat, I took a hard hit to my head. Right between the eyes. Knocked me out, and I didn’t come to right away.” She stuck a finger between her brows to show him where.
He winced. “Ouch. Sounds like illegal contact to me.”
“It was, but yeah. That’s how they train. You’re supposed to be prepared for anything and everything. Anyway, I went stars out and when I woke up, I was already in the Bureau’s clinic. Didn’t come to during transport. Didn’t wake up for almost a solid hour after they got me there. That’s when my handler warned me,‘That’s one strike. Two more and you’re out.’”
She scratched that spot between her brows, not because there was a scar there or that it itched. She just needed something to do. “Second strike came twenty days later during my first live case. I’d been cleared for active duty. Someone robbed a bank in downtown Arlington. I had him dead to rights, but he had a partner. A woman. Only I thought she was an innocent bystander because she was watching from a crowd of spectators, you know? I didn’t see her in time.”
“Tough break.” He almost sounded like pre-Army Heston. Her Heston. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man who used to care about them, not just about the Army.
“Yeah, tough break,” London admitted. “My fault. Should’ve kept better track of my surroundings. Didn’t see her coming. She got too close and nailed me with an elbow. Knocked me down. I landed hard and my head hit the curb. Got a hairline skull fracture out of that one. It was permanent desk duty from then on or give up my dream of active service, so I bailed. I didn’t train hard to end up a desk jockey. Been a LEO for the Forest Service since then.”Until now.Whatever Bates told the disciplinary board could end her career—if three wasted years could be called a career.
“We’ll be landing soon,” Heston said. “You ever think about us?”
“Nope,” she replied, popping the P for all it was worth, not going down that rabbit hole again. Might as well piss off Heston now, before he started telling her what to do, how to think, and who to dream of. He might’ve been right about her not being able to physically fight off aggressors, though. And, yes, the Bureau hadn’t been a good fit for her. She knew that now. But he’d been so mean about it. Insulting. And he’d called her a dreamer.
Well, duh. Guess what. People who accomplish things have big dreams. Like me!
Dreams were what put the first men on the moon and the first women into space. If they could be astronauts, she could be somebody, too. She could! Just had to find the right niche. Might not be working with men, though. That was the common thread in all her failures, men who thought they knew better than she did.
“I do,” he said quietly. “I think about us all the time. Never thought I’d see you again, babe. Sure glad I did.”
Babe.Why’d he have to say that?
London jerked her gaze back to that damned setting sun. Why’d he have to sound so sincere? And look so good? She could almost taste him on her tongue again. Her stupid heart hadn’t slowed down since she’d come to the door behind Captain Bates. Since the first word out of Heston’s mouth. God, he had soft lips that could melt a girl’s heart. And that man could kiss.
He’d looked so damned hot the way he’d handled Bates with deliberate calmness, and she’d nearly broken out in a fever at the take-no-prisoners vehemence in his declaration that he’d find the Stewarts. Heston had always been that guy, the one who wouldn’t back down. She knew he’d been in plenty of fights as a kid defending other classmates or neighborhood kids from bullies. He had scars to prove it. His determination to advocate for weaker kids drove his sweet mother crazy, but he’d never walked away from a fight, not even when he’d been outnumbered. Yeah, he was—that guy. That crazy, hot-as-hell guy who even now had more courage than brains and who still set her stupid heart atwitter.
She scrubbed a quick hand over her jacket zipper, aiming for her poor aching nipples that were obviously happy, happy, joy, joy to see him. So happy, they were hard as tiny, sensitive rocks inside her sports bra. Which was all the more reason to keep her distance from Heston Contreras. If she didn’t, she’d end up backwhere she’d started. Minimized and bullied by his dominant male version of “caring.”
Yet she couldn’t help but be amazed at how he’d taken command of the situation with Bates. Hadn’t backed down. How tender he’d been with Kelsey Stewart. How caring with Alex. He’d kept calling Alex, boss. Did that mean Alex owned The TEAM? Working for Mr. Stewart sounded like a good idea, except... That might mean working with Heston.
No. Way. Problem was, the more reasons she found to keep her distance, the more her heart called for him. She needed to set that straight. “I don’t think of us. Been too busy. Got too much to do. There is no us.”Lies. All lies.
Damned if he didn’t fall forward to one knee on the floor between them. She tipped back, but not far enough. He almost crashed onto her lap, his arms stiff, his hands on both sides of her shoulders. Close enough to kiss. But he didn’t gather her lying ass into his strong, broad chest like she suddenly wished he would. There was no hugging or holding. No physical contact at all. He was doing it again. Being a man. Stealing her breath. Making her hyperventilate and her heart pound. Killing her gently. And surely.
“That’s too bad,” he whispered into her ear. “Have a good life, London. No matter where you go, I’ll always love you. Hope you still believe that.”
Her heart jumped into her throat, and her nostrils flared at the musky scent of this man. Her man. Like every time he’d gotten this close before, that feral, masculine scent came to her mixed with pine, smoke, and clean sweat. The perfect trifecta of smells.
“Huh?” was all her frazzled mind could come up with. Her answer would’ve sounded more absolute if the scruff on his chin hadn’t brushed her cheek when he pulled back and returnedto his seat. “Yeah, okay. Yeah,” she sputtered like an imbecile. “Okay. Back off. Leave me alone.”
The second he did, she jerked her gaze back outside the helo. The storm had finally squeezed the life out of those last gorgeous fingers of sunshine, and the light at the edge of the world went out. Just like the light in her heart.Shit, shit, shit.Why had she packed so much indifference into that goodbye? She’d sounded heartless, when that was the last thing she was.
With her boundaries so cruelly declared, all London had left was darkness and the big, fat tear glimmering in the corner of her eye.Men!Why’d they all have to be so… so…
No satisfying descriptor came to her flustered mind. She pressed a hand on her chest to get her heart to stop pounding. Damned thing seemed to want to leap out of her chest and straight into Heston’s big, warm hands. Too bad. He’d had his chance at happily-ever-after and he’d blown it. Big time. London refused to give up on her dreams just because of this chance meeting.
Fate did not rule her, damn it. This was just—and only—a freaking coincidence.
Chapter Nine
Three days later.
