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“And keep me alive?” I drawl. “How lucky am I, cowboy?” I
playfully fan myself with my hand.

“I like this side of you, Carolina.”

I see a hint of pink appear on his cheeks, so I lean my face in
toward his. “Are you—“ I laugh. “Are you blushing?”

He releases an exaggerated sigh. “No, I must have a fever.”

I roll my eyes and fall back against the seat. I push my glasses back up to my eyes and inhale a long and full breath. Breathing does come easier when I’m around him.

TANGO

I should be looking at the road.
Look at the damn road.
I have no plan. I have no direction. All I know is, I haven’t been to Cape Cod, and that’s where we’re heading. I have to keep her away from Boston. I have to let this shit play out. I don’t trust her not to run off, and I
guess I don’t trust myself enough to contain her.

She looks so innocent and so pleasant when she’s asleep, but when she’s awake, she’s a ball of fire. Although, I do think the
meanness has to be a mask, or just a case of self-defense. Whatever the reason is, I like what I see under the mask.

I glance over at her again now, because I can, because she doesn’t know I’m looking at her. I kind of like the way a burgundy hue teases a few strands of her midnight black hair in the sun, and the ends curl slightly over the top of her breasts, almost like they were placed perfectly on both sides. But it wasn’t done purposely; she’s just perfect like that. Her skin is so fair and so complimentary to every
color she
encompasses. And her lips. Those fucking lips are partly open, just enough to accentuate the plumpness of her top lip. She really is sexy—sexier than I had realized. But she is my assignment and I need to keep reminding myself of this. Still, it’s been four long years since a woman has touched me, and I’m desperately craving that soft, delicate embrace. It would fill a much needed desire. And not just from
anyone. I’m starting to think that someone has to be her.

The warning bumps on the shoulder of the road have pulled my eyes back to the highway. Must keep my eyes focused on the road, not her. I have to keep my focus, period.

CALI

I must have dozed off for a bit, the bumps on the road have woken me up and I glance out the window. We’re driving over rocks toward a beach. “Why are we at a beach? This probably isn’t a great hiding spot.”

“We aren’t hiding. We’re staying away from Boston. While you were getting your bags, I called one of the other mercenaries from the company I work with. I have a feeling Reaper isn’t alone. There could be a group of them. And there are only two of us. Let my guys go check it out and tell us who’s there before we react.”

“I thought you were a bodyguard, not a mercenary?”

“Your dad hired me from the company I work for. The company subs out mercenaries. Your dad read my file, liked my history, and thought I could keep you safe. End of story.”

“Hmm. And what exactly is your plan to keep me safe, Tango? Are you just going to be my travel companion as I continue running away from the man I want to kill?” I think I have a right to at least know that.

He opens his door and jumps out of the truck. He stretches each arm out behind his neck and bends over to stretch his hamstrings, giving me the perfect view of his amazingly firm ass.
Ugh
. He reaches back into the truck behind the driver’s seat and pulls out two
extra
large sweatshirts, both covered with the Marine emblem. He slips one on and leaves the hood over his head. I open my door and hop down to where he’s standing and holding out the other sweatshirt
for me. It doesn’t take long to figure out why he’s handing it to me—it’s about twenty degrees colder here. I take my jacket off and slip the sweatshirt over my head before putting my jacket back on. Crap, it’s freaking cold.

He still hasn’t answered my question, and now I’m following him like a lost dog, waiting for a response. He climbs up a couple of rocks overlooking the ocean, sits on the tip of one and pulls his knees into his chest. He taps the rock beside him and waves me over.
“Come sit.”

I climb up the rocks to where he’s sitting and drop down into the flattened area beside him. “Ready to answer me now? Or are we waiting for the sun to set?” Annoyance definitely saturates my
words clearly enough for him to take a hint.

“Yeah, we could do that.” He lets his head fall back into the glow of the sun. His features become more dominant—the light colored freckles on his cheeks and the scar above his right eyebrow. “I’m struggling with the plan I was given orders for,” he says,
straightening his neck as he
peers out into the water. “Your dad wants me to keep you safe. You want to kill the man who is after you. And on top of that . . . this job—” He points back and forth between the two of us. “Will probably expire in a month. So, it’s a lot to consider.“

“What do you mean? Are you planning to quit?” I ask, somewhat baffled and a little upset that this arrangement is temporary.

“I’m not planning to quit, no,” he says, refusing to break his cold hard stare out into the water.

“Then what?” I twist my body to face him; feeling emotionally charged from his half spoken statements.

After a few seconds, he looks over at me but doesn’t respond. His hands curl around the back of his neck, squeezing and causing his skin to discolor. I hear him swallow and I watch his lips part. I can see the debate in his eyes, fighting over the words he must want
to say. “I’m probably not going to make it another month.” He bites down on his cheek and his eyes lose their focus.

“I don’t—I don’t understand what you’re saying or what you mean.” This pit in my stomach is telling me whatever he is trying to say, isn’t good.

“I have lung cancer. I was diagnosed about four weeks ago. It’s too late to do anything about it. The doctors gave me no hope—just a countdown. They said I had two to three months left, but probably more likely around two.” His words leave him breathless, and me as
well.

I’ve been a complete bitch, asshole, cunt, and a shithead to this poor man who’s going to die in probably less than a month. But beyond that, I feel a different kind of pain—a swelling type of ache in my heart. I’ve warmed up to him. I’ve started to like him, even enjoy having him around. I’ve had thoughts of actually being with
him, which is dumb
anyway. He’s my bodyguard. But he’s my friend now too. And even if he doesn’t see it that way, I do care about him. But he’s dying. Someone
else I care about will be taken away from me. Is that what this is? Another fucking sick joke from above?

“I should have guessed something was wrong by the way you’ve been coughing and wheezing,” is all I can come up with to say.

“Look. I wasn’t going to say anything. The doctor said it will be painful, but I’ll be able to continue living until my lungs stop
working. Right now, it’s bearable, but when it gets to be too much, I’ll stop working and find you a replacement. A good one. Or I can save you the trouble, and find you a replacement now so I don’t have to put you through the aggravation?”

The words coming from his mouth hurt me. I purposely don’t get close to people for a reason and it’s to protect my bitterly trashed heart. I know whatever time we spend together from here on out will likely result in a stronger friendship, maybe more. But I can’t let
that happen.
I’ll be the one who has to live on after. I’ll be the one left with memories branded into my mind and heart. But, on the other hand, what type of person would I be if I told him to leave now, to go die by himself? He has no family, and he hasn’t mentioned any friends.
Now I’m thinking of Krissy and Mom, if they were in his shoes, and if they had no one when they were dying. I wouldn’t wish that on them, or anyone. “I already told you. I don’t want a replacement,” I say quietly.

“I know. Want to know the irony?” How is there irony in this situation?

I shrug.

“The thing your dad has could save my ass. And that’s as much as I can tell you.”

“Wait, what?” I shout. “What does he have, Tango? A treatment for cancer? Is that what he has?” He doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t need to. I can see the look on his face—it’s a combination of hope
and dread. I’m assuming the hope part is that there’s something out there that could save him. The dread most likely being that he wouldn’t agree to track Dad down. “How do you know that’s what he has?”

He looks at me with a sidelong glare and I can see contemplation
form like storms in his eyes. “I refused to take the job unless I knew what I was fighting for. This job had a high alert, meaning, the likelihood of survival is low. My survival rate is low anyway, so I
figured it’s the
perfect job. I kind of just lucked out, being stuck with you
.”
His lip twitches a bit as a wry smile plays across his cheeks
.
“I’m guessing your dad hasn’t had an easy time finding guards for you,” he
snickers. “Without sounding too cocky, my history dictates that I’d be a pretty
badass guard, and regardless of what you might think, he does want to keep you safe. He told me what he had in his possession, so I’d take the job. But I’m smart enough to know, he’ll have me killed if
anyone ever found out. However, I trust you wouldn’t rat me out.”

Without thinking, I blurt out something I’ll likely regret—or maybe not. “I’ll help you find him.”

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t have you do that. And we still have to deal with Reaper.”

“Fuck Reaper. I’ll deal with him later. I want to help you.” I do. I don’t want to watch another innocent person die. I can’t.

“Cali, we could be killed just trying to find him. And what if I
die in
the process? Where does that leave you? Unprotected and in the
middle of nowhere.”

“Where is he, Tango? Tell me.”

“A few hours south of the Texas border. When he hired me, he gave me emergency coordinates for his location. They aren’t exact, but they’re within a two mile radius of where he is. It isn’t going to be easy to find him.”

 “We’re going. My dad is paying you to take care of me, right?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t involve bringing you to his location.”

“I don’t care. We’re going . . . and if you don’t take me to Mexico, I’m going into Boston and I’ll hunt Reaper down until I’m face to face with him. I will put myself in as much danger as possible here if you don’t take me to find my dad.”

“Cali.”

“Choice is yours. Live or die.” I wonder how many buttons of his I’ll have to push before he gives in. I know this is dangerous and stupid, but a good deed wouldn’t be the worst thing for my current track record.

He looks torn as he subtly nods his head with agreement. “You play dirty. And that’s not fair.” He squints his eyes with a mischievous glint and playfully pinches my side. The sensation
causes me to yelp and burst with laughter, which makes me ask myself what this man is doing to me.

“I think we both know life isn’t exactly fair,” I say.

I see the stormy clouds return to his eyes, as well as contemplation. “You do know Reaper will tail us and follow us.
Right?”

“And that will make it easier for me to kill him,” I smile. I’m obviously making this sound easier than it is, but this is the way it has to be. I’m sure of it.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asks.

I look at his pain stricken expression and I take his hand from his lap, allowing myself to feel the warmth flowing through him and now through me. His hand is large and rough, but still gentle and comforting. It causes my heart to pound and my breath to hitch in my throat, holding me back from saying what I want to say. I wait for the rush to pass and squeeze his hand to release some of my own
nerves. He’s staring at me, waiting to hear or know why I took his hand,
because right now it looks like a sign of emotion, and that’s not something I’m ready to divulge. The thought brings my words to the tip
of my tongue. “Don’t let this seep into your head or anything,
but—“ I stall
just so I can hold his hand a little bit longer. “I think you’re a pretty cool guy, Tango,” I wink. “Plus, I don’t really think you deserve to die . . . especially after the shit I’ve given you this week. The guilt. It’s setting in.”

He slips his hand out of my mine and my heart rate slows a bit from the external release. But then he slides his arm around my back and pulls me in against his shoulder, forcing another rush of sensations to overwhelm me. “You don’t know how much this means to me. This will be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.” He presses his lips onto the top of my head. “Thank you.” And I’m stunned, speechless and breathless. Did his lips just touch the top of my head? How did we even end up at this moment? I’ve been horrible to him. How could he even want to put his arm around me, never mind his lips on me? I don’t understand.

TANGO

THE TRUTH IS OUT,
and it feels good. She’s the first person
outside
of the Marines who knows. I’m told to keep my mouth shut. I’m trained not to weaken and say something I shouldn’t. But at this
point, I don’t give a shit anymore.

I have been alone with all of this. The doctor’s appointments, the diagnosis, the news and my discharge—it was fucking horrible. Training to be the strongest person I can only took me so far as I was
mentally breaking down inside.