Dance With Me (4 page)

The only saving grace—if there was one at all—was that he hadn’t been told to torture them. That, he couldn’t have borne. So he’d plugged along, making sure they got water and at least a little food every day, keeping their restraints barely tight enough to pass inspection. After nine long fucking months of it, Paulson had finally caught a break and made his escape.

The major had helped, leading the hunting party in the wrong direction as long as he could without raising suspicion. It had worked, and he’d finally breathed a little easier.

But that didn’t mean he could sleep at night. How many people had he hurt in his quest to eradicate terrorism? Was it worth it? His head said yes, but he still wasn’t sure. If Harris had been asked if her imprisonment warranted the intel he’d gathered, she would have said hell no. If she spoke at all. The major’s sources told him she was alive, but not really living: silent, unmoving, and unresponsive. Her family probably didn’t think it was justified either.

And what had Chief Davis done to deserve a lost limb and the nightmares that still haunted him? That had been a huge oversight on the part of the major’s team, and they’d all been guilt-ridden over the lives lost in that particular fiasco.

The major shook his head and tried to banish the remorse and depression. He was here to complete a mission, and he’d get it done no matter the cost. Because that’s what Black Ops did, and it was all the major knew anymore.

* * * *

Rebecca hummed softly to herself as she scrubbed her sink. She’d already cleaned it after breakfast, but she’d washed her lunch dishes and it was dirty again. She was a little obsessive about cleanliness, and her friends lovingly teased her about it. They didn’t understand why Rebecca dusted and vacuumed every single day whether her house was clean or not—and if she had her way, they never would.

Rebecca didn’t want to be anything to them except a good, fun-loving, boisterous, fashionable friend that sometimes sold them beauty products. They didn’t need to see the ugliness and shame hiding behind a mask of exuberance.

She scrubbed harder, trying to wash away the memories. Her soft hums became grunts as she put all of her strength into the task. She wouldn’t live in filth again. Molding, rotting food everywhere, stepping on trash, sleeping with rodents and bugs…
Never!

Her doorbell rang and with a short grunt of frustration she threw the scrubbing brush into the sink. Rebecca peeled the yellow rubber gloves off her hands, folded them carefully, and placed them in a plastic baggie before putting them neatly back in the drawer. The scrubbing brush followed suit as she laid it neatly beside the gloves. She adjusted the brush slightly, then closed the drawer, satisfied.

“Coming!” she called in a singsong voice. Rebecca threw her bright red hair over her shoulder, straightened her shirt, and went to answer the door.

She never glanced out her peephole and had stood with her arms crossed and eyes rolling through many of Chris’s lectures about safety. She didn’t check this time either, but when she flung her door open, it wasn’t Chris standing there. It was the guy from the barbecue the day before. The one Chris had tried to pummel.

“Howdy, neighbor!” He grinned awkwardly at her and stuck his hand out. “Rick Jones. Just moved in next door.”

Rebecca grasped his hand hesitantly. She trusted Chris, she really did, and he had found this man to be dangerous. But at first glance Rick Jones seemed like a pretty harmless character to her, even if his forced smile was fake. “Rebecca Batiste,” she murmured. “Good to meet you.”

He smiled at her, a kind of sad smile that clung to his lips without moving into his eyes. “I just wanted to introduce myself, since I didn’t have a chance to at the barbecue yesterday. It uh…it got a little weird.”

Rebecca nodded and tugged her hand free. He was kind of cute, in a sad, lost boy sort of way. “Chris is a good guy. He’s had a tough time lately, that’s all.” She glanced over at Callie’s duplex to make certain no one was home. After yesterday’s incident, Chris and Callie had both left for his apartment. Callie had sent Rebecca a text explaining it was probably best if they stayed there a few days.

Rick laughed a little, but it was strained. “Yeah, I’d sure hate to actually be whoever he thought I was.”

Rebecca nodded. She understood that
completely
. “If I were you, I’d be concerned about resembling that guy. You don’t want to be on his bad side.” She pulled the door closed behind her and stepped outside for a harmless little neighborly chat.

Rick’s face sobered suddenly, the sad half smile disappearing as she stepped out of the dark interior into the bright sunlight. His hazel eyes grew wide and his jaw clenched.

Rebecca tilted her head to the side and asked, “Hey, are you okay?” He looked a little pale, maybe even surprised.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rick responded, shaking his head. “I just don’t remember seeing you at the barbecue.” His voice had gotten deeper, huskier.

Rebecca smiled at him. He was a strange guy, but when he used that deep voice it sent shivers down her spine.
Sexy.
“Well I saw you. Of course, everyone that was there saw you.”

Rick nodded and looked in the direction of his house for a moment. He turned back to her and opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Well spit it out.” Rebecca shoved a strand of hair behind her ear, put her hands on her hips, and waited.

A mild look of surprise crossed his face, and then a small but genuine smile barely turned up the corners of his lips. “I was just going to ask if you’d like to get a cup of coffee.”

Coffee? Seriously? That was the best he could do? Rebecca tilted her head to the side and decided to screw with him a little. He was too cute not to. “I don’t drink coffee.” Bullshit. She drank coffee like a cop.

“Oh,” he responded, a little deflated.

“But I could go for some organic blackberry chamomile tea.”

“Uh, I uh…” He was stuck, poor guy.

Rebecca laughed. Men were so very predictable. “I’m pulling your leg. I love coffee. Want to meet for a cup tomorrow afternoon? Say around five?” That would give her time to get home from school and change clothes. And maybe he would drop the friendly neighbor routine and actually
talk
to her.

“Meet for coffee?” He frowned. “I guess, yeah, that would be great.” He rubbed his neck absently and said, “Where should we meet?”

“How about the Blue Bean? It’s down by the boardwalk. Outside tables, lounge chairs, and everything.” It was her favorite place to get coffee, and she didn’t go there often because of the cost. But hell, if he was paying she was going to get what she wanted.

“Sounds great to me. I’ll see you then.” With a little wave and smile Rick was off, walking down the sidewalk back toward his duplex.

Rebecca waved back and watched him leave. He had a confident walk, but he slouched a little. It looked odd. Most men stood as straight as they could to make themselves seem taller. It was almost as though he
wanted
to be shorter. Slouched or not, her head had barely reached his chin. He wasn’t huge like Chris the giant, but he was big enough to be intimidating. That’s why she wanted to meet somewhere public. No need to be alone with him. Rebecca shook her head slightly. Hanging around with SEALs was making her paranoid.

Rebecca crossed her arms and grinned at Rick’s retreating back. He was a little softer than the men she usually went for. She was a sucker for a tough man. It had always been her downfall. Rick might be tough, she didn’t know yet, but he was just a little too pretty.

Pretty or not, he had a fantastic ass and Rebecca watched it in appreciation as he walked back home. As she turned to go inside a little voice in her head chided her.
Ex-uniform is still a Uniform.

Rebecca scowled.
It’s coffee, not a moonlight walk on the beach.
Besides, she reasoned, it was always a good idea to know your neighbors. They were just going to have a friendly little cup of coffee and chat.

She closed the door, locked it, and went back to the kitchen to continue cleaning the sink.

Chapter 4

Rick ran his fingers through the short blond strands of his hair and sighed. He’d gone over and over it in his head for twenty-four hours and he still couldn’t comprehend what had compelled him to ask the redhead out.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have time for dates, sex, or even friendship. And it wasn’t like she could offer him much information on the SEAL team that he didn’t already have.

Rebecca’s background check had come up clean. Suspiciously clean, actually. She’d grown up in New Orleans, lost both parents in Hurricane Katrina when she was eighteen, and moved to Virginia Beach where she’d completed a bachelor’s degree in Early Childhood Education. She had been married four months to Dillan Henderson, who was a member of the SEAL rear-support team. They had divorced quickly and easily with no messy court cases. She taught second grade at North Townsend Elementary. No arrest record, no passport, not even a speeding ticket had come up. He knew there were people who led a clean lifestyle. But in his experience, no record meant there was something lurking beneath the surface. Usually something
really
bad. His experience was a bit jaded, though.

He could explain away the lack of traffic tickets with her looks. No cop would be able to resist those puppy-dog brown eyes and pouty lower lip. Not to mention the curves. She was curvy from head to toe, starting with those deep red corkscrew curls that exploded from her skull. His first good look at her had felt like a punch to the gut, and he’d stuttered and stared like a teenager. But,
damn,
she was smoking hot.

The light pink tank top Rebecca had been wearing when she answered the door yesterday had actually looked good with her red hair, which was a feat all other redheads would envy. Those tight black yoga pants had hugged every line of her body, and Rick felt a distinct tightening in his jeans remembering the sight.

I should have stood her up.
He glanced down at the table where his coffee cup sat empty. He probably shouldn’t have gone to see her in the first place, but he’d been trying to appease his curiosity and make sure Paulson was all right. Rick knew where Paulson and the fiancée had gone, but he didn’t know what kind of mental state the man was in so he’d gone to see the redhead and find out.

Instead of discovering Paulson’s mental state, he’d discovered two things about himself. First, he was still a chump for a ginger. And second, he’d been without female companionship for far too long.

Rick let his head fall back against the back of the lounge chair on the deck of the Blue Bean, where he awaited Rebecca. How long had it been since he’d even touched a woman? His brow furrowed as he tried to think. Seven, eight years maybe? He’d had a quick fling with that perky brunette in Thailand.
What was her name? Melinda? Melissa? Miranda? How long ago was Thailand?

The years blurred together as he tried to pinpoint a time. He’d been pursuing a lead on an arms dealer who’d somehow managed to get his hands on a few very sensitive American UAVs that had gone missing from the air base in Bagram. The perky brunette had been convenient, writing down her name and the name of her hotel, then pressing it into his palm as she paraded by him on the way out of a restaurant.

It hadn’t taken long to hunt down the UAVs, and when he’d disposed of the arms dealer, he’d found the brunette and taken her up on the offer. Rick smiled a little. Seven years. That had been seven years ago.

“Well that’s an interesting smile.”

Rick opened his eyes to see Rebecca standing by the lounge chair next to his, a smile pulling at those full lips.
Curvy.

“Well hi there.” He sat upright in the lounge chair, then stood and gestured to the chair next to him. “Please, have a seat.” He waited until she sat down to return to his chair and tried to smile at her. “This is a nice place.”

Rebecca tossed those fiery curls behind her shoulder and grinned.
Beautiful smile.
“Yeah. It’s the only coffee shop I’ve ever been to that feels like you’re lounging on the beach waiting for a mai tai.” She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “That’s why I like it.”

Mai tai, indeed. A waiter in blue chinos and a white T-shirt came by to refill Rick’s empty coffee cup and take her order. When she ordered a plain black coffee, he stared at her in surprise.

“What?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Nothing. I just figured you for a froufrou coffee drinker.”

Rebecca shrugged. “I can drink the froufrou stuff, but sometimes you need a kick in the ass instead of something that tastes good.”

Huh. Go figure. Rick felt exactly the same. He didn’t think anyone actually drank coffee for the flavor. Like vaccinations, it was a necessary evil. “Do you need a kick in the ass today?”

“Ha! That’s putting it mildly.” Rebecca tugged the lever on the side of her lounge chair and reclined back. “I had to call CPS today. Third time I’ve called this year and for the same kid.” She shook her head and a deep sadness filled her eyes. “Sometimes the government is so useless, you know?”

Rick blinked rapidly.
Holy shit
, did he ever know about the government and useless. But she was talking about something completely different. “Yeah. I bet it’s hard.” At her questioning look he clarified, “Seeing a kid hurt and not being able to do more than make a phone call.”

Rebecca tensed a little and Rick watched her closely, suspicion dawning. “Yeah. It’s tough. I just want to…” She stopped and pursed her lips. “I just want to find those parents and do everything to them that they’ve done to those kids. Every scratch, bruise, and mean word, I’d like to give back to them tenfold.” She gritted her teeth and growled a little.

Now her record made a little more sense. People were passionate and aggressive about deeply personal issues. She’d either seen it in a loved one or been a victim of child abuse herself. As a victim or witness, whatever the case, she’d run far and fast, and managed to build a good life. No wonder she stayed out of trouble. Rick made a mental note to do a little more digging into her past.
Hang on there. Hell no. She’s not the mission.
He shook his head and searched for an appropriate response.