Raw Exposure by Aliyah Burke

He…he would have been proud of him though. I just know it.”
    “Of course he would be. I know how military men can be sometimes.”
    “Does your husband serve?”
    “No, ma’am, I’m not married. My brother serves.”
    Mrs. Marshall got up and led her to a small table laden with pictures. They spent a good portion of time looking at them. Husband and son.
    “I know you didn’t have to come all this way to give me his personal effects. You could have mailed them. So you must need something.”
    “Actually, I do, Mrs. Marshall.”
    The woman stared at her with assessing eyes. “What is that?”
    Affrica guided her back to the padded seat and sat across from her again. “They are presenting an award for breaking this story. To me, but I only finished what your son started. I would like you to come where I will accept on his behalf and present it to you.”
    “Why would you do such a thing?”
    “You son broke this, gave his life for it. It’s nae right for me to take credit.” She shifted. “There is one other thing, though. If I publically put your name out there, you could be in danger, if there are more who think Davy may have told you something. If you would rather remain anonymous, I can just present it to you and not call you out as his mother. I would love to hand this to you before everyone but you have to think of your safety.”
    “You are a wonderful woman, Miss O’Shea. I would be honored to come accept it. You tell me when and where.” She patted her hand. “As for the danger, those cretins took everything from me the day they killed my Davy. So let them come.”
    “I want you safe.”
    “I’m safe enough. One thing, though,” she said.
    “What’s that, Mrs. Marshall?”
    “Stop hiding your accent. Before I married Mr. Marshall, I was a Delaney. Does this old heart good to hear a touch o’ the Irish.”
    Affrica smiled. She’d worked hard to speak clearly, so the woman wouldn’t have a hard time understanding her.
    “Do you still speak it?”
    For the first time since she’d arrived, Affrica noticed Mrs. Marshall’s eyes sparkle.
    “I sure do,” she replied in Gaelige.
    Affrica remained for the rest of the day and left after utilizing Mrs. Marshall’s kitchen to make her some good Irish fare. She left with a hug and the promise to keep in touch besides the ceremony next month.
    Back at her hotel, she took a long, hot shower before sitting on the queen-sized bed, bundled in the thick terry cloth robe. Drawing her legs up, she sighed as she rested her chin upon her knees. Fingers laced along her shins, she stared out the window at the sight presented. Astoria was a beautiful town.
    These past weeks had been harried, and she relished the quiet. Part of the reason she embarked on the four-day train ride out to Oregon as opposed to taking a plane was she needed to decompress. No Outback, no one trying to kill her, and no bloodthirsty reporters trying for an exclusive about everything. She’d fielded calls from newspapers wanting her working for them.
    “Not a chance,” she uttered.
    In her eyes, her job was perfect already. She swiped her tongue along her lower lip as—like usual—her mind drifted toward the all-too-handsome and enigmatic Reeve Leighton.
    The night with him had been off-the-charts amazing. Even now, her body flushed and grew damp at the simple thought of his touch. He’d given her an experience she’d not forget.
    Her brother would kill him for simply touching her. Hell, even for taking her to his place. Much less, what happened after.
    Aidrian.
    The satisfied smile slid from her face as she thought him. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. She’d almost lost her brother. Thank you, for keeping him safe. Maverick had called her on the train, letting her know he was okay—still in Antarctica but safe.
    When she started this trip, she’d had bare minimum information other than his plane had gone down. Luckily, now, she knew he was all right.
    The