markets opening up there. But I’ve heard it’s really hard. Do you speak any other languages?”
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Easy nodded. “ Hablo español, árabe, y Dari. ”
Grinning, Jenna reached for her bagel. She’d thought him hard to resist just being his usual sexy, thoughtful, protective self. If he was going to throw speaking to her in a foreign language into the mix, she’d be a goner. “What is Dari?”
“One of the main languages in Afghanistan,” he said.
“Oh. Guess that makes sense. Are Arabic and Dari hard to learn?”
“Yeah. Where I grew up in Philly, there were a lot of Hispanic kids, so Spanish was like a second language. But coming to languages as an adult about kicked my ass. Cultural training is a big part of Special Forces training, though. We’re not out there just trying to win battles, but hearts and minds, too. So . . .” He frowned. “Or, we were, anyway.”
“Sounds like you liked it,” she said, unsure why he seemed suddenly sad.
“It was the best thing I’ve ever done.” He put down the sandwich half he’d been holding and brushed off his fingers.
Jenna was suddenly filled with the certainty she needed to tread carefully. “So, why did you get out?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. “Sara didn’t tell you?”
“No. But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“You’re in the middle of it now, Jenna, so you deserve to know.” He took a long drink from a bottle of water, drawing Jenna’s eyes to the way his throat worked as he swallowed, which made her remember how that very skin had felt against her lips. Soft. Warm.
She blinked out of the memory and focused on what he’d said. She was in the middle of it? Of what?
Easy lowered the bottle and played with the cap for a minute. “Remember how Sara said we were running an investigation?” When Jenna nodded, he continued, “Me and my guys, we were discharged from the Special Forces about a year ago. The five of us were the only survivors of an ambush, and we were blamed for the rest of the team’s deaths.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open, and her stomach fell in sympathy.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” he said with a whole lotta edge in his tone. “Turns out our commanding officer was involved in some sorta criminal activity on the side. We didn’t know about it, but after he died, someone arranged for a cover-up that hung us out to dry. Trying to get to the bottom of all that? That’s what we’re investigating.”
Jenna dropped the last of her bagel to the tray. “I’m so sorry, Easy. About your team. About what happened to you and the other guys. All of it. That’s so unfair.”
His lips pressed into a tight line. “Yeah.”
“How did that lead you to Baltimore and the Church Gang, though?” she asked, thoughts whirling.
“Some of that’s still unclear. Our commander’s kids live here, and the Churchmen came after them looking for information related to their father. Two weeks ago, Charlie went missing, and his sister Becca came and found Nick, who was our team’s second-in-command, here at Hard Ink. After we rescued Charlie, he told us he’d found a number of links between his father and the Churchmen. We’re guessing it has something to do with the heroin trade, which would paint a pretty direct line between Afghanistan and a gang like Church’s. But that’s about as much as we know. It’s a fucking mess.”
She reached across the space that separated them and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her chest aching for him, aching for the hurt and anger she could see in his eyes and his expression.
He looked her in the eyes. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing, not when our bullshit ended up hurting you.”
“Easy, what happened to me wasn’t your fault. It was my father’s fault for getting involved with Church and not protecting me and Sara from the fallout.” And she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Easy nodded. “ Hablo español, árabe, y Dari. ”
Grinning, Jenna reached for her bagel. She’d thought him hard to resist just being his usual sexy, thoughtful, protective self. If he was going to throw speaking to her in a foreign language into the mix, she’d be a goner. “What is Dari?”
“One of the main languages in Afghanistan,” he said.
“Oh. Guess that makes sense. Are Arabic and Dari hard to learn?”
“Yeah. Where I grew up in Philly, there were a lot of Hispanic kids, so Spanish was like a second language. But coming to languages as an adult about kicked my ass. Cultural training is a big part of Special Forces training, though. We’re not out there just trying to win battles, but hearts and minds, too. So . . .” He frowned. “Or, we were, anyway.”
“Sounds like you liked it,” she said, unsure why he seemed suddenly sad.
“It was the best thing I’ve ever done.” He put down the sandwich half he’d been holding and brushed off his fingers.
Jenna was suddenly filled with the certainty she needed to tread carefully. “So, why did you get out?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. “Sara didn’t tell you?”
“No. But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“You’re in the middle of it now, Jenna, so you deserve to know.” He took a long drink from a bottle of water, drawing Jenna’s eyes to the way his throat worked as he swallowed, which made her remember how that very skin had felt against her lips. Soft. Warm.
She blinked out of the memory and focused on what he’d said. She was in the middle of it? Of what?
Easy lowered the bottle and played with the cap for a minute. “Remember how Sara said we were running an investigation?” When Jenna nodded, he continued, “Me and my guys, we were discharged from the Special Forces about a year ago. The five of us were the only survivors of an ambush, and we were blamed for the rest of the team’s deaths.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open, and her stomach fell in sympathy.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” he said with a whole lotta edge in his tone. “Turns out our commanding officer was involved in some sorta criminal activity on the side. We didn’t know about it, but after he died, someone arranged for a cover-up that hung us out to dry. Trying to get to the bottom of all that? That’s what we’re investigating.”
Jenna dropped the last of her bagel to the tray. “I’m so sorry, Easy. About your team. About what happened to you and the other guys. All of it. That’s so unfair.”
His lips pressed into a tight line. “Yeah.”
“How did that lead you to Baltimore and the Church Gang, though?” she asked, thoughts whirling.
“Some of that’s still unclear. Our commander’s kids live here, and the Churchmen came after them looking for information related to their father. Two weeks ago, Charlie went missing, and his sister Becca came and found Nick, who was our team’s second-in-command, here at Hard Ink. After we rescued Charlie, he told us he’d found a number of links between his father and the Churchmen. We’re guessing it has something to do with the heroin trade, which would paint a pretty direct line between Afghanistan and a gang like Church’s. But that’s about as much as we know. It’s a fucking mess.”
She reached across the space that separated them and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her chest aching for him, aching for the hurt and anger she could see in his eyes and his expression.
He looked her in the eyes. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing, not when our bullshit ended up hurting you.”
“Easy, what happened to me wasn’t your fault. It was my father’s fault for getting involved with Church and not protecting me and Sara from the fallout.” And she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him
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