Page 10 of Malta with My Best Friend's Dad

Now, the balcony is empty, both of the girls inside. I keep monitoring the corridor cameras just in case they decide to leave, getting ready to climb down the wall and jump on my rented motorbike.

Fucking Sergey.

Part of me must’ve suspected he’d try something like this, hence the cameras, hence the binoculars, hence the burning paranoia moving its way through my body on the flight over.

What I didn’t expect was my whole world to come crashing down the second I laid eyes on Kelly.

I want to marry her, to make her pregnant, to be at her side as she brings our children into this world.

I need to do all those things, as though a caveman is roaring and beating his chest inside of me, demanding me to go fully feral.

How is any of this possible?

My cell phone buzzes from the sand-colored wall, drawing my gaze. It’s Jocko, my buddy from the SEAL teams. We met when the Army and the SEALs led a joint operation in Ramadi, Iraq when our tours overlapped for three months. We went through some crazy shit together and I know he’s always got my back.

We own a series of gyms together back in the States. He’s been handling them while I’ve been ‘away’.

“Yep?” I say, answering.

“Flight’s delayed.” Jocko always sounds slightly pissed off, but now it’s worse than ever. “It’s times like these I really miss military transport. It’s looking like tomorrow morning, maybe early afternoon.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got things covered on my end.”

“You seen her yet?”

“Who?”

He laughs gruffly. “Who’d you think? Lena.”

Of course, he means Lena, but for a split second, I thought he somehow knew about Kelly, about this desire setting every inch of me alight, making me pulse and howl deep inside.

She’s mine, a voice roars, over and over. Mine mine mine.

“Yeah, I saw her.”

“How was it?”

I think for a moment, delving into my mind as I rarely let myself do. These past few years have been a life of trying to forget, of telling myself I don’t even want to go back and see my daughter. And of course, I know that’s a damn lie, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to function.

But the main thing that strikes me as I reflect on Jocko’s question is how badly I ache for Kelly, how badly I want to sprint through Medina and climb up to her balcony, bend her over the railing and taste everything she has to give.

What the hell is wrong with me, caring more about my daughter’s best friend than my daughter?

No, that’s not right.

It’s not about caring.

It’s about needing, bone-deep, a thundering conviction like I’ve never felt before. It’s like she’s tattooed herself onto my mind, so thinking about anything else becomes impossible.

“It was tough,” I say at length, realizing I’ve just let the question hang.

“It’s a good thing you decided to see her, though.” Jock sighs heavily. “The fucking Bratva. Are you hoping you can get this sorted out without letting her know you’re still alive?”

“That’s the plan. But if Sergey really is moving against me – if his man was telling the truth – then it might all be for nothing. I don’t need to pretend to be dead if he’s going to bring it all out into the open like this.”

“I can’t believe he’s going to come himself. He’s the leader of the whole damn Bratva. It’s insane that he’d feel the need to come himself.”

“He was the one who gave me the order,” I snarl, remembering that day, remembering wide eyes and pleading lips and Sergey telling me to do it, to do it now to show my loyalty. “He was personally offended when I said no. Maybe he’s not been able to let it go.”

“Pathetic.” I can hear Jocko shaking his head in that way of his as if the whole world is going to pay. It’s a feeling we share. “We’ll link up the second my plane touches down.”

“How’s business?” I ask, changing the subject.

Thinking about Sergey and the Bratva reminds me of what they’re trying to take. Not just my daughter, but the woman who’s going to become the mother of my children, the woman who shattered my universe the second she stepped foot from the car.

My cock tingles as the taste of her lips returns to me in a phantom remembrance, as her gasping moans bounce hotly around my body.

She was so ready, so primed to go all the way.

“You did all the hard work before you disappeared,” Jocko says. “Now it’s just a matter of building on what you started. If you ever do come back from the dead, you’re going to be a rich, rich man.”

I don’t let my thoughts stray to that notion often, because returning to regular life has always meant the possibility of violence and death for my daughter. But now that Sergey has played his hand, the idea burns through me.

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