Speed King (Men of Action 1)

“Always.” I hesitate, then add, “Love you,” before disconnecting.

The guys are standing around waiting for me in the office, all our gear laid out. I flick a finger to them to give me another minute while I shoot off texts to Rich and Dad.

A series of beeps sound, and they all look at their phones, their lips curling.

“Shit, that woman is turning the place into the Biltmore.” Ford flips his screen to the circle. Harley is standing in front of the tree, holding up a personalized stocking with his name on it.

“She’s moved my plants.” Talon’s screen is a picture of his houseplants staged around my fireplace.

Major’s eyes are glued to his phone, and he slowly curves it to us. It’s a picture of Harley and Jewls at their first ladies’ night. They’re in Tom’s shirts, arms around shoulders and lips puckered at the camera.

“You called Jewls?”

He shakes his head. “I sent her a text. She’s been busy, and I don’t want this bleeding into her life.”

I know exactly what he means.

“Here.” I hand over my phone to Willie and take the specialized one he hands me in return.

“You know the drill. The drop is at twenty-one hundred.”

“We’ll be ready.”

Willie steps up, slapping a hand to my shoulder and applying pressure. “Take care of our men.”

“Goes without saying.”

“I’m gonna keep this brief. Simms has been keeping us in MARSOC entertained with tales of you finally landing your lady. Twinkle in the eyes and all that shit. I need you focused and in the zone, which has never been a problem. But it’s nice to know you now have someone waiting at home to add to that momentum.”

Willie knows the history with my parents and our relationship. He learned long ago I would rather take leave with these guys than go home. My gaze goes to Talon, who’s grinning without shame.

“You couldn’t help yourself.”

“Not a chance. The guys wouldn’t believe it without continual photographic proof.”

“Payback is hell.”

“We’ll see.”

“All right, Marines, gear up. It’s almost go time,” Willie orders, and all humor dies.

Search and Rescue is our mission.

It’s what we’re trained to do.

We’re some of the best for a reason.

Now, it’s time to prove it.

24

Harley

“Honey, Ace will understand if you come stay with us. You staying here alone is unhealthy.” Mom frets, continuous in her persuasion for me to go home with them.

“I appreciate it, but Achilles specifically asked me to stay. It puts him at ease.”

“Yes, but it’s so…”

“Lonely?” I finish for her.

She twists her fingers in mine, nodding.

“It’s not that bad. Promise. Jewls is staying with me on the weekends. My schedule and staying busy have helped.”

This is partly true. Jewls has been staying the last two weekends. And I picked up as many shifts as Tom would give me. Days at the bar aren’t nearly as busy, but I’ve been handling inventory and waiting tables where needed. I’ve popped into MJ Labels a few times and set up my office, so it’s ready when I start after the holidays. And our massive tree in the living room has tons of presents stuffed under it.

Working, shopping, wrapping, decorating, and exercise classes have kept me busy. But at night, when I crawl into Achilles’ bed, the loneliness hits hard.

It’s been a week since Achilles’ call.

A call I learned was his ‘last’ call before heading out. Dad let it slip that Achilles had called him over the years before disappearing on his missions. Every time I think about it, a chill settles in my bones.

I knew he wouldn’t be in constant contact, but this silence is torture.

The security camera alarms, and the monitor on the end table shows Jewls’ car approaching.

“Now you don’t have to worry because my partner in crime is here.” I jostle Mom’s hand and get up to open the wine. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“God, please, no more sappy selections,” Dad groans from the other side of the sofa. “I’m tapped out.”

Jewls lets herself in and drops her overnight bag, openly eyeing the wine with appreciation. “Thank God, I need my own bottle tonight.”

“There’s plenty.”

“I’m officially off until after the holidays.”

“When are you going home?” Mom asks.

“Christmas Eve.”

“You don’t have to stay around here for me.” I serve them their wine, grab my own, and scoot next to Dad.

Jewls’ family lives two hours away in Kentucky. She goes home for the holidays each year and comes back with the best stories of her rowdy family Christmases. I’ve been to her home and met her family—all the many generations living there—and know her stories are one-hundred percent factual.

Backwoods bootleggers, Law Enforcement, Educators, High Society Equestrian farms—they have a little of everything mixed into their group. One thing they have in common is they’re crazy.

“Are you kidding? You’re the perfect excuse to miss out on the Eve-before-the Eve bash. Last year, my uncle’s fight was the talk of the town for months. Mom is still mortified to go to the grocery store. She calls it the scene of the crime.”