The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“Nah, man.” I rub my nose. “It never felt right. None of those girls were Charlotte. I knew I was breaking her heart by shutting her out. Couldn’t compound it by sleeping with another woman.”

“You are a monk. A sick one,” Cabby mutters. “If she doesn’t say yes, will you finally have sex? You’d be a better teammate if you had sex.”

“She’s going to say yes, and fuck you, Cabby. I’ve been the best damn teammate you ever had.”

“No sex for nine years?” He shakes his head and starts the Jeep. Then shuts it off. Turning to me, he cries, “Nine years? I can’t go without for like nine days.”

That’s an exaggeration since some ops take months in a desert where there’s nothing but sand and the occasional wild dog. I just shrug.

He resettles into his seat and starts the Jeep again. “You are the best goddamn teammate I’ve ever had because if you can function with that much sperm backed up in your pipes, you’re a super hero of some kind.”

28

Charlotte

When Reese arrives, we head out for some reconnaissance before we hit the clubs to find victim number one. I need to see Nathan. Knowing he’s so close without laying my eyes on him one more time is intolerable.

“This is a bad idea,” Reese says. “Seeing him will only fuel old fantasies. You need to move forward.”

“I promise you will enjoy this.” We stop before we reach the guards who prevent tourists from getting too close to the training sailors.

Spreading a blanket out, I pull Reese beside me. “Pretend like we’re having a romantic breakfast.”

I feel like the biggest perv, but they’re too far away for me to see anything but sweaty flesh and facial hair, so I pull out my binoculars

“Do you see him?”

“No, I . . . wait.” I zoom in, and there he is. Bare chested, his skin glistening in the sun from oil? Sweat? He’s wearing black shorts with a thin white stripe down the side. There are tattoos on his shoulder and arms but none on his chest. His hair is short, but not in the buzz cut so often associated with military men. These were special forces men who needed long hair and bushy beards but his face is completely smooth. There’s his square jaw and his dark brows, furrowed. His lips are slightly open. I wonder if he breathes out of his nose or mouth as he runs. As he moves, his pectoral muscles bunch and release. The binoculars slip lower, and I trace my way down his ridged abdomen to the tops of thighs and down to his feet clad in black boots. I guess he must run in those rather than tennis shoes for training purposes. I want to watch him all day.

“This is a bad idea,” Reese says and grabs the binoculars. He adjusts them and sucks in a breath. “Oh my god, Charlie, I could get into this stalking thing. The guy on the right totally tickles my bear fetish. I thought all the military dudes had to shave. I dated this one Army guy. Baby face. He could’ve used a little facial hair.”

“Special forces,” I mutter as two bare-chested men jog up to the guard, point at us and then run off. “Um, maybe we should leave?”

“I’m not done stalking,” Reese says, pulling away from my hand. Finally he drops the lenses on the blanket and falls back to stare at the sky. “Now that you’ve seen him, are you ready to go out and forget him?”

“I just had to see my Nate one last time.”

“He hasn’t been your Nate in nine years.”

The bucket of water Reese throws on me is ocean cold. With a deep breath, I get to my feet. “You’re right. Come on. Let’s go home. I have so much to do for Peyton and Christian before we go out tonight.”

“Not to mention going to the pedi/mani and blow out appointment I made for you.” Reese bends over to pick up the blanket.

“Leaving so soon?” I whirl around and there’s Nate, not even remotely out of breath, with two other guys standing slightly behind him. I’m the breathless one. In fact, my heart is pounding so strong and loud, I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest. My airways are closing down, and I’m lightheaded. Reese shoots me a worried glance and wraps his arm around me just as I begin to sway. “We’re bird watching, asshole.”

We all swivel to look at the nearly empty sky. “Oh, sure there aren’t any now, but this is the migratory path of the fondue biplatypus, and it only flaps through North America during a very discrete time period. If you’ll excuse us, we don’t want to miss it.” Reese flicks the blanket and sand goes everywhere. I’m the only one who flinches though. Nate and his crew stare impassively at us, arms at their sides as if they’re ready to draw on us, but given their shirtless chests and tiny shorts, I’m not sure what they’d pull out. Reese tucks the now-folded blanket under his arm and then grabs me and starts marching us off. I follow in a daze.