Page 25 of Second to None
Emily sat in one chair while Max claimed the other, stretching out his legs toward the fire and crossing his ankles. The fire’s reflection danced on the polished surface of his loafers. He rested his elbows on the puffy rolled chair arms, the wineglass dangling from his fingers. She heard him let out a long breath as he sank into the crushed-velvet upholstery.
“Long day?” Emily asked him.
“Long month,” Max said.
“Is it okay if we talk about what you and my dad did when you worked together?” Izzy fastened her blue eyes on Max. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Some people don’t like to talk about dead people.”
Emily groaned internally as she threw an apologetic glance at Max. “Izzy, you shouldn’t—”
Max held up one hand to stop her. “I’d be happy to talk about your father. He was a great guy and a very brave man.”
Izzy nodded.
“I told her that you and Jake worked on body armor together,” Emily said, to give him a little help.
“So you understand what body armor is? It’s clothing that’s very strong so a bullet can’t go through it.” Max put his wine down on the table and leaned forward. “But just because a bullet can’t go through it doesn’t mean that you can’t get hurt when a bullet hits the armor. Because the bullet hits extremely hard.”
Izzy nodded again.
“So we tested the body armor on dummies, like the mannequins in store windows. We wanted to make sure that no bullets would ever go through it before a real person used the armor. We proved that it would stop the bullets, but there was no way to tell how much it hurt when a bullet hit the armor and bounced off.”
Emily found herself so entranced by the bass of Max’s voice that she leaned forward, too.
“Which meant we needed a real person to test it on,” Max continued. “I’m not a soldier, so I didn’t understand what it means to be a leader in the Marines like your dad was, so I just up and asked your dad’s company for a volunteer. Remember, this person had to be willing to get shot at, and he or she didn’t know how much it would hurt. I was amazed when every person in the company volunteered. But your father gave them this look that made them go silent and stand at attention. Then he gave me an even more serious look and said, ‘I’m the commander. I test the armor first.’”
Max stared into the fire, and Emily knew he was seeing that moment in his mind’s eye. She was well acquainted with the look Jake would level at his men, the one that had made many a strong soldier go pale. She also knew that Jake always took the most dangerous assignment, always went first into a dicey situation, and always took care of his men. It didn’t surprise her at all that he’d tested the body armor on himself first. However, the knowledge hadn’t stopped her from being furious when he had shared that information with her.
“Your dad strapped on the prototype—that means the first set of body armor we made—and then barked, ‘Novak, you can shoot straight about half the time. You take the shot.’ Then he walked to the end of the field we’d been using for the tests and stood with his feet apart and his arms behind his back. At ease, as they call it in the Marines. Then Novak walked up beside me, swung up his rifle, and aimed it at your dad.”
Izzy’s eyes had gone wide. “Daddy let someone shoot a gun at him?”
“He said he had confidence in my work.” Max met Emily’s gaze. “Which, of course, scared the hell ... heck out of me. It turned out that Novak was the best marksman in the battalion. So he’s pointing his gun at your father, and he yells, ‘What should I aim for, sir?’ Your father yells back, ‘My heart, because according to you, er, wimps, it’s made of stone.’”
“I can just hear him saying that,” Emily said, tears glazing her vision. “Without the euphemism.” She gave Max a wavering smile.
He reached over the table between them and took her hand where it lay on the arm of the chair, giving it a gentle squeeze. The strength of his fingers sent a strange comfort spreading through her. She returned the pressure in wordless gratitude and slipped her hand out of his grip before she did something stupid.
Max nodded and continued his story. “Novak yells back, ‘Sir, yes, sir,’ and I hear the crack of his rifle. We’re all staring at Jake ... your father ... waiting for him to stagger or flinch or something. Instead, he yells, ‘You missed.’ There’s dead silence for a couple of seconds while everyone looks at Novak’s stunned expression, and then your father starts laughing. ‘You got me right in the heart. Do it again.’”
Izzy squealed and clapped her hand over her mouth.
Max sat back with a smile. “So Novak shot him four more times in different parts of his body. Finally, I stopped him, so I could talk to your dad about how it felt to be hit by a bullet.”
“That’s crazy,” Izzy said.
“That was Jake,” Emily said, her tone dry.
“So how did it feel?” Izzy asked.
“He said it was like being hit by a baseball. He ended up with some bruises, but nothing was cracked or broken, and the pain was never severe enough to cloud his thinking. That’s important when someone is shooting at you.” Max’s voice held a grim undercurrent.
Izzy sighed. “I wish Daddy had been wearing your body armor so he didn’t get killed.”
Max’s gaze cut to Emily. She lifted her hands and shook her head to show she hadn’t told Izzy anything about that. He touched the little girl’s shoulder softly. “I wish he had, too. He was a hero, your dad.”
“I know. He got a lot of medals for being brave.” Izzy’s voice was wistful. “Will you tell me another story about him?”
“Later,” Emily said. “Let’s ask Mr. Varela some questions about himself.”
