But Danny, his best friend and partner, hadn’t known where he was for two long years until sheer boredom eventually drove him to return to the States and join HORNET. And wasn’t it just his luck that HORNET’s first mission intersected with one of Danny’s cases? After that, Danny hadn’t given him a choice and dragged him back into the family fold.
But Leah wasn’t like Danny. She was fire and temper and wasn’t going to let him slink away to lick his wounds this time. In that moment, he hated her for it.
She dogged his heels. “You told me that Danny, with his dying breath, made you promise to take care of me and the kids.”
“By staying away, I am. You ever need anything all you have to do is call, but you don’t want me hanging around fucking things up for you.”
“Is that what you think Danny meant?”
“No, but it’s the best I can do.” He shoved his board into the sand by his front porch and spun to face her. “Because I know he sure as hell didn’t mean I should fuck you, and that was exactly where things were headed when I left.”
She flinched and took a step backward. Her arms folded tightly around her middle, pushing her breasts up under her flowing tank top. And he hated himself for noticing. What kind of man looked at his best friend’s widow like that?
After a moment, she released a long, slow breath. “That night, we were both drunk and crazy with grief. I was drowning and needed someone to hold on to. You were there. Convenient. We came to our senses before…”
“Doesn’t matter. We went too far, and I refuse to dishonor Danny like that. I won’t hurt him like that.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “Oh, Marcus. You can’t do anything to hurt him,” she said softly. “He’s dead.”
“You think I fucking forgot?” He held up his hands like they were still covered in blood. Sometimes, he swore he still saw it there. “I held him while he bled out on a beach very much like this one. Fuck.” His hands had started shaking. Wishing like hell he had a drink, he dropped them to his sides and stomped up the steps to his bungalow.
The advertisement had called the bungalow “charmingly rustic,” but that was putting it nicely. It was a shipping container the local eco resort had recycled into living space and plunked down on an empty stretch of beach. He hadn’t cared. It had a bed, a refrigerator, a hotplate, and a bathroom. He hadn’t needed anything more than that.
He crossed to the fridge. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since November but needed some now before his last fragile nerve shredded and he went postal. Unfortunately, everything in the fridge looked more like a petri dish than food.
Leah hovered in the doorway. “I miss him, too, Marcus. It’s like a part of my soul has been ripped out of me, but I’ve accepted that he’s gone. I had to, for my sanity, because the tighter I held on to his memory, the more it hurt. It’s time you let go, too. He wouldn’t want you to isolate yourself like this.” She waved a hand at the space he’d called home for the better part of a year. “He’d hate that you’ve shut yourself away from your family, all your friends, everyone who cares about you.”
Marcus let the fridge fall shut and leaned his forehead against the cool steel. He couldn’t speak. Partly because of the lump of granite in his throat, but mostly because of the shame burning up the back of his neck. She was right. Danny had always disapproved of his isolationist tactic of dealing with shit. He had said as much three years ago, after Marcus joined HORNET and they reconnected.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
He heard Danny’s voice so clearly, he had to open his eyes and make sure the guy wasn’t actually standing next to him.
Nope, not Danny.
Leah.
He hadn’t heard her move, but now was very aware of her body so close to his in the small space of his bungalow. She trailed her fingers lightly over his shoulder, careful of his still-bleeding wound. Her touch sent a taboo thrill through him, bringing goose bumps to his skin.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
He shouldn’t react to her like this.
“Will you let me take a look at that shoulder?” she asked.
He was helpless against her pleading blue eyes. He’d known he would be, which was why he’d run away from her as fast as he could. The more time they had spent together in those months after Danny’s death, the more he’d wanted her. It disgusted him. He’d never, ever seen Leah as anything other than a friend. From the time they were in high school, she’d always been Danny’s girl, but now…
Yeah, Dan. I know I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.
And, still, he allowed her to take his hand and lead him over to his bed—the only place in the bungalow to sit. She left him long enough to search his bathroom for the first aid kit he’d brought with him. It had gotten a lot of use over the months and was running low on supplies, but there was still a bit of gauze left on the roll, two antiseptic wipes, and an unopened tube of antibiotic ointment.
She tore open a wipe and sat down next to him. The sweet tang of raspberries washed over him. Not perfume, he knew. She didn’t wear it, but she’d used the same raspberry body wash and lotion combination for years.
She was too close.
He reached to take the wipe from her. “I can handle this.”
She waved him off. “You sound like the twins, especially Cooper. He thinks he’s a big, tough boy and doesn’t need his mother anymore.”
“You’re not my mother.” His life would be so much easier if he thought of her that way. Or a sister. But, no. Of the three billion women in the world he could want to take for a lover, she was the only one who appealed to him.
She eyed the piles of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers littering his space. “No, I’m not, but it looks like you need someone to take care of you.”
He clenched his teeth against the sting of the antiseptic wipe. “I’m fine.”
“So you keep saying.” She studied his wound, then slathered it with antibiotic ointment and taped a square of gauze over it. “It’s a bit ragged, but I don’t think it needs stitches.”
“Thanks, nurse Leah.”
She gave a short laugh. “Not a nurse. A mother of two very rambunctious boys who have seen more than their fair share of stitches in their short lives.”
Suddenly, he was very aware that he wore only swim trunks and the two of them were sitting on his bed. He leaped up and found a shirt among his pile of clothes.
Distance. He needed distance.
“Uh…how are the kids?”
She froze, but only for a heartbeat. She covered her moment of surprise masterfully, but he was a trained observer. Jesus. Did she really think he was such a heartless jerk that he didn’t care about the kids?