Page 51 of The Last Ride

“Well, for the time being, until we catch this guy. I think it’s best if I go with you.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes. Whoever this is, they started stepping up their attack strategy since I arrived. This won’t end until they’re caught. Until then, you’re in danger and need to be careful. I know it’s not what you want to hear.” I loathed the flash of fear that entered her eyes.

She glanced down at her plate. “You’re right. It’s not. But I’m tired of this. It feels like it’s coming to a head.”

“I agree. And whoever it is really doesn’t like that I’m here. I think the more we’re seen together out and about, even if it’s just at the club and around the house, will draw them out faster so we can end this.”

She lifted her gaze and asked, “How do you feel about teaching me to shoot? I own a handgun, and there’s a gun range up the street.”

“Done. We’ll do that tomorrow.” I was all for her knowing how to defend herself. This way, when I left, she’d have the skill set. But I didn’t like the thought of her alone and vulnerable. Even after we caught this guy, she’d still be working near with men who could get the wrong idea about her.

“The chicken’s good, by the way.” She smiled and took a sip of wine.

“I’ve got a few skills outside the military.”

“I’d say you’ve got more than a few.” She dropped the innuendo.

I barked out a laugh. Even knocked down, she was still the most capable woman I’ve ever met. I glanced at my half-eaten meal. I didn’t know how to do this with her. Act like everything was normal when it wasn’t. Because nothing about this situation was normal.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head. The woman had been shocked and terrorized today. The last thing I was going to do was add to her burden.

“Ben, don’t do that. Spit it out. I think, after everything, that we owe one another the truth. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

She was right. I knew it. But, “I want you, Moira…”

“But?”

“I can’t seem to move past a tremendous amount of guilt. You were with Evan.”

“Hold up.” She held up her hand. “Evan and I dated years ago. We hadn’t been a couple in a long time. And I know he was your best friend, but that should have no bearing on what’s between us and what happened last night. I’m not going to apologize for it either.”

But the raging grief inside me couldn’t be contained any longer and spewed forth. “I spent the night fucking my best friend’s girl. What the fuck does that make me?”

She laid her hand over mine. “Human. But you also need to understand that I was never his, Ben. I was just a woman he fucked from time to time.”

“But he loved you.” I didn’t know why I was struggling with this point, even knowing he wasn’t faithful. But I was.

“Yep, he did. Likely as much as all the other women he screwed. I cared about him, Ben. Loved him even, as a friend. And it hurts that he’s gone, that he saw no other way for himself other than to end it all. But I was never his. I understand that you feel guilt over last night. But you need to know for me, what we did made everything that came before it hold little significance. And I get if that’s where you want it to end. I won’t hold it against you if that’s it for you.”

She rose from her seat, picking up her plate and wine glass. Then looked at me with her shields down, letting me see everything she was feeling. It took my fucking breath away. “But if you decide you want to stop with the self-flagellation and want me, you’re welcome to join me in my room. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Moira left me at the table, staring at my half-eaten meal, stewing over everything she said and didn’t say.

No longer hungry, I drank my beer, contemplating the bottle and my next move. Deep down, I knew she was right. Evan was gone and not coming back.

Grief was a funny thing. One moment you’re fine, laughing even, and then you think of something you want to tell them. And it takes you out at the knees and leaves you breathless at the sudden onslaught of pain at the realization you’ll never talk to them again.

That you’ll never look over and laugh at something they said or did. And you walk around with this hole inside you that nothing and no one will ever truly fill.

In our line of work, you lose people.

But even knowing it, when it happens to someone you care about, there are no words that bring comfort.

And I was so fucking angry at Evan. My rage seemed to grow by the day. If he was here, I’d read him the riot act for even thinking about taking himself out that way. And it made me question myself, how I didn’t see it. We were best friends, and I never saw how much he was hurting inside.

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