Page 9 of Lacey's Fight

Just one.

Because one was all a broken soul had to offer.

* * *

August 2nd

10:02 P.M.

“Ben.”

The voice calling his name made him freeze.

Not so much because it was pure sweet sex, but because no one ever called him Ben. His mom called him Benny just like she had from the time he was born. His dad called him Benjamin in that serious tone his dad always used. His two older sisters called him Bunny just to annoy him because they knew he hated the Benjamin Bunny reference. His teammates called him Rabbit.

No one called him Ben.

No one.

Except for the one woman he’d given that name to earlier on the yacht.

For some reason, his body reacted instantly to the chirpy sound, and he quickly shut it down.

He didn’t react physically to women. Not ever.

At least not in the last three years.

That loss had changed him so profoundly that he was pretty sure everyone who knew him would say he was a completely different person.

Once upon a time before his world became bathed in bloodshed, he’d been just like Lacey Smith. Easygoing, fun-loving, with a great sense of humor, his sisters would say a little spoiled as the baby of the family.

Back then he’d thought he had it all.

And he had.

But then he’d lost it.

One moment in time was all it took for the very fiber of his being to unravel.

The man he used to be was gone, there was no going back. This man had nothing to offer anyone but the use of the skills he’d been taught as he trained to become a SEAL. So, he used those skills and saved innocents in the hope that one day he might be able to balance the scales.

A task he knew was impossible.

“Hey.”

A small hand rested on his forearm, and when he looked down at it, he realized just how small it was. Delicate. Fragile. Much too easily broken.

“What are you doing here?” he growled as he turned to face Lacey.

Her smile faltered, her hand dropped, and she took a small step backward.

Obviously, not the reception she’d been expecting.

Ben bet the sassy, flirty little sweetheart was used to men falling at her feet.

But he was immune to her charms.

Curiosity filled her pretty brown eyes, which up close he could see had the occasional speck of green, not quite making them hazel but enough to make them unique. They were framed by almost impossibly long lashes, which if he couldn’t see she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup he would have thought were fake. Her lips were pink and pouty, the kind that practically begged to be kissed. She was a tiny little thing, maybe five foot two, but she had some cute curves, and while not huge, her breasts were the perfect handful. And …

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