I can’t tell her Shooter. She flashed back to the first night she met him in the club. “Daniel.”
“Daniel, that’s a nice all-American name, is he cute?”
Not the words I’d use to describe him. “He’s ruggedly handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, massive frame and he’s tall, Mom. He actually makes me feel short.”
“That’s just wonderful. Ruggedly handsome…is he into camping and fishing?”
“No, more adventurous things, he drives a motorcycle.”
“Ohhhh.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed. Her brow wrinkled, turning her previously glowing face into the site of an oncoming storm. Taking that as her cue to leave, Juliette stood. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I know you have to be up early, and I have the morning shift. I just wanted to check in on you.” She kissed her cheek. “Night, Mom.”
“Night, Juliette.”
She hurried out of the house feeling like a child who’d narrowly escaped a parental Spanish Inquisition.
* * * * *
Shooter dumped his saddlebags by the door and sat down on his bed. After a day working in the shop, he was ready to veg in his room. The constant fuck parties going on got old when you weren’t chasin
g after trim. If he was anything, he was a man of his word. Something he’d learned from his father and had ingrained by the Marine Corps. He locked his door, trudged over to the bed and sank down, unlacing his boots. Setting them by the nightstand where he could reach them at a moment’s notice, he grabbed the remote, turned on the television and lay back with his arms under his head. The show on the television was pure background as he allowed his tense muscles to relax. A beep turned his attention to the phone in his pocket. Juliette.
He smiled and dug in his pocket, hoping for a text. The flashing emblem made him scowl. Another three voice messages. I have to give it to Joel, he’s persistent. There was a time when his older brother had been the closest person to him. The only two children of a close-knit family, he’d idolized the guy four years his senior. He’d learned everything his father wouldn’t tell him from Joel. He chuckled, remembering the mischief they’d caused. Pranks, and later driving the girls of their small town crazy. The smile left his lips as the reason they no longer spoke rushed to the forefront. Why is he calling now, after all this time? What if it’s important?
“Fuck.” He hit the right buttons and placed the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Daniel. Look I know I can’t take back what I did. But it’s been almost ten years. You’re the only family I have left. Brittany is asking questions, wondering why you don’t come around and if she can meet you. Can’t we just leave this in the past and move forward?” Joel sighed heavily. “I miss you, bro. Call me back, tell me to go to hell if you want, but please let me know you’re okay, at least.” The message ended and Shooter moved on to the next.
“It’s me again. The song remains the same.” Joel’s reference to their favorite band growing up made him smile. They had a lot more good years than bad. He closed his eyes and rubbed his lids with his fingers as the message played. “You know me well enough to realize I’m going to keep doing this until I get a response. Too much time has passed as it is. You wanted space, and after Mom and Dad passed I gave it to you. Enough is enough. I’ll be turning forty soon. I want to do that with you by my side.”
Shooter brought the phone down and rested it on the bed beside him and he went back to the moment that changed everything between them.
He hefted the green duffel bag up on his shoulders and grinned. He’d been looking forward to leave for far too long. Being a Marine was a challenge on its own but being a sniper took the crazy to a whole new level. He wouldn’t apologize for the things he’d done. Every kill made had been government sanctioned and for the greater good. But it sure as hell left a mark. The hardest part was the secrecy. Never being allowed to tell anyone about what you’d been doing. It left him feeling like a ghost, and fucked with his relationship royally. I’m here to change all that.
He grinned, thinking of the woman who’d helped him keep his sanity unknowingly. Some days the only thing he had to look forward to was her dazzling smile, sweet smell and curvy body made for loving. High school sweethearts, they’d been convinced long-distance dating would be a cinch until they could get married and she could move out with him.
They hadn’t counted on all the changes both of them would be going through apart. I’ll make it up to her. She’ll have the wedding she’s always wanted. Jogging the last flight of stairs, he stopped at the first door on the third floor and let himself in with the key. His eyes took in the apartment. Everything was the same. The white couch with blue flowers, the end table in front of it that had seen better days. Pictures from their four years of high school covered the wall. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla he always associated with her filled the air. He closed the door behind him carefully, wanting to surprise.
“Oh yes. Harder baby, harder.” The squeak of the mattress and the thud of the bed tapping against the window stole the breath from his lungs. His knees weakened and he clutched the doorknob to keep himself upright. The voice that whispered “I love you” was fucking someone else. Anger replaced the shock. He dropped his bag and strode through the small space. I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. He stepped to the door frame and froze. The bastard rutting into his fiancée like a stallion was his older brother. His vision grew hazy and his gut churned. His best friend, confidant and advisor had crossed a line he could never come back from.
“What the fuck is this?” His voice got louder with every word.
Angelina looked up and screamed. “Oh my god!” She rolled out of the bed, taking the covers with her.
Joel sat up, covering his dick with one hand as he held out the other. “This isn’t how we wanted you to find out.”
“You’re fucking my girl! In the apartment we picked out together!” His chest heaved. His vision went red. He charged forward, tackling him out of the bed. Angelina screamed, scrambling to the corner and climbing over the bed. Shooter’s fist connected with Joel’s face. The hardness sent jolts of pain spiraling through his hand and for a minute he could forget the gut-wrenching ache happening in his chest. Joel offered up no resistance, just lay there and took the beating.
“Stop it! You’re going to kill him! Stop it.” Angelina yanked at his t-shirt. “You’re fucking psycho! I don’t even know you anymore.”
His head snapped around and he stood. “You don’t know me? That’s fucking laughable. I leave and you become a whore?”
“Hey don’t talk about her like that.”
He peered down at the bloodied, bruised and swelling mess he’d made of his brother’s face and snarled. “Even now you’d take up for her?”
“It’s not like that. We didn’t plan this out. It just happened. We both missed you, so we started hanging out, then one thing led to another…”
“That’s weak bullshit and you know it. I come home looking for peace and instead I find this.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “You can keep her. You both deserve each another. Just keep your fucking distance from me. You’re dead to me, man.”