He hadn't expected to enjoy that small intimacy so much. He hadn't expected to feel so protective as he installed the security measures while he waited for her to finish doing her hair. For the first time since his return home from Syria, emotions were beginning to slip out of that carefully locked box. He hoped John wouldn't notice. He wasn't ready to have that conversation with his buddy yet. Hell, he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with himself.
John rose from the table as they approached, chuckling and wrapping Zeke in a bear hug. "Good to see you, you bastard," he said.
Zeke slapped his back in return. "You look good."
He didn't have to lie this time. When he'd finally left the base hospital, John was still there. They'd met up about six months after John's release. His buddy looked like shit, a shell of the man Zeke had known before their capture. It had taken a long time before John looked normal. Longer before he looked healthy. Tonight, he even looked happy.
Vivian waited quietly at his side. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Viv, this is John Walsh. We served together in Syria. John, this is Vivian."
Seeing Vivian shake hands with John without reacting to his missing fingers and fingertips eased something in his gut. But there was no time to wonder how she'd react when she finally saw his injuries because John was helping a lovely woman from a chair.
She looked high-class, body toned from what were probably obsessive workouts. Her nails were manicured, her outfit carefully chosen to show off her assets in the best way possible. Make-up impeccable, but hair unnaturally dark for her skin. Her eyes unnerved him. Too focused, too possessive, too entitled. He'd seen women like he
r before at The Club and he hoped for his friend's sake that his first impressions of her were wrong.
"This is Delilah," John said, kissing her temple. His hand skimmed up and down her arm and Zeke could see that John had it bad. Knowing how important this dinner was to John, he put on his best smile and put out a hand.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "Zeke."
Vivian smiled from his side. "Vivian."
The woman gave a cool smile to Vivian and returned her focus to Zeke. Her hand was delicate, trembling a little when she shook with him. "I've heard so much about you," she said. Her voice was breathy and her eyes flashed with some emotion akin to greed. His dislike rose another notch. "You're the war hero."
He stiffened, casting a frustrated glance at John. His friend shifted awkwardly. "She was curious how I got out," he said by way of explanation. "I told her a bit."
"I can't believe you survived all of that," Delilah continued. "Especially dealing with everything at home. John's been so worried about you. I told him we should have put out a missing person's ad for you." Her laughter was meant to be thrilling, but only grated his already raw nerves. "At least he heard from you before we had to resort to that."
Shit, she wasn't joking, was she? He'd moved to Karim so the freaking press would stop hounding him for interviews. His life had already been a media circus once. Offers from book publishers. Film companies. Military recruiters looking to capitalize on his story. To them, he was just a commodity. But it was his fucking life and he could never escape it. At least, he hadn't been able to escape it until he ran into Mr. Mak. Now that he had his privacy, he wasn't about to lose it, even for the sake of impressing his friend's girl.
“Did you ever get the letter I sent you?” she asked. “I was hoping to meet you and finally learn about this man John always mentioned.” She must have seen something on his face because she quickly added, “I doubt it would have stood out. I’m sure you get letters like that all the time.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t know. I never read any of them.” He didn’t bother to tell her all his actual mail was sent to a P.O. box under a different name to avoid the crazies.
Her smile was brittle. “I see.”
John tried to smooth things over. “I knew if I needed to get a hold of you, I could always call. Del likes taking matters into her own hands sometimes.”
Damn, he hated pretending to play nice. But if it helped John...He turned his body toward Delilah, although he avoided eye contact. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment. I just don’t consider myself a hero and try to avoid all the publicity. I want a normal life.”
“I hear you,” John said.
“Well, is there a better way of contacting you than through John?” Delilah asked. “If we need to send you any letters sometime soon?”
He understood the implication, but didn’t rise to the bait. “Line’s always open for John’s call. That’s enough.”
Delilah pouted at that. Before she could say anything else, John took her elbow and drew her to the side, his voice a low murmur. Zeke glanced around the restaurant, noticing several of the other diners looking his way after Delilah's less-than-subtle comment. A few people were even whispering to each other, probably trying to figure out why he looked familiar. Oh, God, he needed to get out of here. Screw making John happy, he couldn't handle this...
Vivian's hand slipped into his. She squeezed gently and he took a breath, focusing on her warmth, her skin's smoothness. She didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions—though God only knew she had a million—instead, she gave him her silent support.
It helped.
They stood together until John turned back and pulled out Delilah's chair, getting her to sit down before coming around the table to Zeke. "I'm sorry," his friend whispered. "I swear, sometimes it's like she doesn't even listen to me when I tell her the subject's off limits."
Zeke squeezed Vivian's hand. "It's okay. Look, can we just have a nice, quiet dinner and catch up?"
John nodded. Zeke helped Vivian into her chair and sat beside her, ignoring Delilah while he tried to pull himself together. He was torn between forging ahead and fleeing. He wanted to see John, to catch up with one of the people who could understand what he'd been through, but he dreaded having to explain himself to Viv. She'd said she felt safe with him, that she thought of him as her friend. Once she heard about his past, there was no way she'd ever feel that way about him again. And unfortunately, that discussion was probably going to occur sooner than he'd expected.
* * *