heart, searing any hope she had that they’d get back together. And that was it. That was why she didn’t want Sam here. She
hadn’t
given up on Trace. Even though he’d ripped her heart out. And now. . .he’d done it again.
“So there was a ‘you and her’ then?”
Sam sounded furious but also enjoyed getting the dig in.
“If you know anything about her, you’d be smart to bury that and give her the room she needs. Annie can’t be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do. And if you try, you’ll only tick her off.”
Trace
Pentagon, Arlington County, Virginia
5 June – 0910 Hours
Not only had he lost her, but he’d lost her to a squid. For two minutes on the plane, he’d imagined she might actually let him back into her life, forgive him for what he’d done. Being that close to her, smelling that lavender body wash she’d used years ago, he’d nearly given in to those desires. Nearly kissed her.
Call him crazy, but he was pretty sure she would’ve let him.
Then the SEAL came around the corner.
Trace tucked his cover in his right leg pocket and strode down the hall of the Pentagon with General Solomon to the office of the Army’s service chief, General Barry Cantor. They stepped into the office area and were met by a young lieutenant seated behind a desk. His name patch read H
ollings
.
“Morning,” Solomon said. “We have an appointment with Barry.”
“Yes, sir,” Hollings responded as he stood. “He’s waiting, sirs.” He led them down a short hall and past three additional doors to one that had the black name plate with C
antor
stamped in white. After two firm raps, he pushed into the room.
“General Solomon and Lieutenant Colonel Weston are here, sir.”
“Good, good.” Cantor came around his massive desk and crossed the office. “Come in, Haym.” The two greeted each other like long-lost brothers with a firm handshake that pulled into a back-slapping fest. “How’s Vivienne doing since her surgery?”
“Oh, that was six months ago. She’s fine.”
“And that beautiful daughter of yours? How’s she? Found a good Ranger or Green Beret to run off with?” Cantor’s eyes crinkled in a deep smile as he turned to Trace. “You didn’t steal her away from him, did you?”
Heat rushed up past the tan shirt collar and up his neck. “No, sir.” Francesca would rather gut him than date him. And the feeling was mutual.
Cantor slapped his shoulder. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed to admit you noticed how beautiful she is—in fact, Hollings out there has been trying to get her phone number since he met her at the Christmas gala.”
“I’m not sure Francesca would date Army,” Haym said. “Seems quite determined to do everything opposite me.”
“At least she’s in the military like her brothers, eh?” Cantor pointed them to where a black leather sofa and two chairs sat huddled in a conversation area. He offered coffee and water, and when they refused, he steered them right into the reason for the meeting. “How are those boys?”
“Grown fighters,” Haym said, his words drenched with the pride that drew up his shoulders. “However, I think you know more about Paolo than I do, I believe.”
Appreciation for the words colored Cantor’s face. “Imagine that’s right,” he said with a laugh.
Trace might not be privy to the facts of these men’s lives, but he could read between the lines as well as the best. Clearly, Haym’s eldest son had gone into an intelligence-related field that put him under the direction of Cantor. The knowledge made Trace a little more ill at ease. He had Haym on his side, but the man’s daughter enjoyed breathing fire down his neck. Would the eldest son do the same?
“So, she might not be trying to date you, but it seems our dear Francesca is trying to slice open your old wounds.”
Trace blinked, the general’s ability to switch topics so fast it left a soldier with whiplash no less sharp today as they sat here. He cleared
hadn’t
given up on Trace. Even though he’d ripped her heart out. And now. . .he’d done it again.
“So there was a ‘you and her’ then?”
Sam sounded furious but also enjoyed getting the dig in.
“If you know anything about her, you’d be smart to bury that and give her the room she needs. Annie can’t be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do. And if you try, you’ll only tick her off.”
Trace
Pentagon, Arlington County, Virginia
5 June – 0910 Hours
Not only had he lost her, but he’d lost her to a squid. For two minutes on the plane, he’d imagined she might actually let him back into her life, forgive him for what he’d done. Being that close to her, smelling that lavender body wash she’d used years ago, he’d nearly given in to those desires. Nearly kissed her.
Call him crazy, but he was pretty sure she would’ve let him.
Then the SEAL came around the corner.
Trace tucked his cover in his right leg pocket and strode down the hall of the Pentagon with General Solomon to the office of the Army’s service chief, General Barry Cantor. They stepped into the office area and were met by a young lieutenant seated behind a desk. His name patch read H
ollings
.
“Morning,” Solomon said. “We have an appointment with Barry.”
“Yes, sir,” Hollings responded as he stood. “He’s waiting, sirs.” He led them down a short hall and past three additional doors to one that had the black name plate with C
antor
stamped in white. After two firm raps, he pushed into the room.
“General Solomon and Lieutenant Colonel Weston are here, sir.”
“Good, good.” Cantor came around his massive desk and crossed the office. “Come in, Haym.” The two greeted each other like long-lost brothers with a firm handshake that pulled into a back-slapping fest. “How’s Vivienne doing since her surgery?”
“Oh, that was six months ago. She’s fine.”
“And that beautiful daughter of yours? How’s she? Found a good Ranger or Green Beret to run off with?” Cantor’s eyes crinkled in a deep smile as he turned to Trace. “You didn’t steal her away from him, did you?”
Heat rushed up past the tan shirt collar and up his neck. “No, sir.” Francesca would rather gut him than date him. And the feeling was mutual.
Cantor slapped his shoulder. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed to admit you noticed how beautiful she is—in fact, Hollings out there has been trying to get her phone number since he met her at the Christmas gala.”
“I’m not sure Francesca would date Army,” Haym said. “Seems quite determined to do everything opposite me.”
“At least she’s in the military like her brothers, eh?” Cantor pointed them to where a black leather sofa and two chairs sat huddled in a conversation area. He offered coffee and water, and when they refused, he steered them right into the reason for the meeting. “How are those boys?”
“Grown fighters,” Haym said, his words drenched with the pride that drew up his shoulders. “However, I think you know more about Paolo than I do, I believe.”
Appreciation for the words colored Cantor’s face. “Imagine that’s right,” he said with a laugh.
Trace might not be privy to the facts of these men’s lives, but he could read between the lines as well as the best. Clearly, Haym’s eldest son had gone into an intelligence-related field that put him under the direction of Cantor. The knowledge made Trace a little more ill at ease. He had Haym on his side, but the man’s daughter enjoyed breathing fire down his neck. Would the eldest son do the same?
“So, she might not be trying to date you, but it seems our dear Francesca is trying to slice open your old wounds.”
Trace blinked, the general’s ability to switch topics so fast it left a soldier with whiplash no less sharp today as they sat here. He cleared
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