Impossible End (Unchecked Book 3) (11 page)

“I wouldn’t categorize basic training as fun.”

Just then a server brought our salads. The lanky-looking kid smiled at me but when he saw Fire Boy, his face lit up. “Hey Buck, I didn’t know you were back. Good to see you in one piece this time.” He put our plates down. “How long you home for?”

“Jason.” Fire Boy, aka Blaze, aka Buck rose partially and shook hands with the kid. “I’m on leave.”

The kid’s face dropped. “Oh hey man, I’m sorry. I heard about your mom. How’s she doing?”

Fire Boy shrugged. He kinda looked like a Buck.

“Jason, this is Layna.” He inclined his head toward me.

Jason smiled. “Nice to meet you. It’s good to see Buck with a pretty lady.” He winked.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. I was a lot of things but pretty wasn’t one of them. My mother was half Chinese, half Italian and my father was half Cuban, half Greek. I was a mess of indistinguishable ethnicity. I looked slightly Asian but with a proud Greek nose and wide set brown eyes on a round face. My hair was heavy and dark and I wore it straight because there wasn’t anything else I could do with it.

I ignored his pretty comment. “How long have you known Buck?” I might have said
Buck
sarcastically.

Jason laughed. “Since we were kids. Well, enjoy your dinner. Good to see you, man. Call me if you get some free time. We’ll take the ATVs out or hit the gym. Layna, nice to meet you.” He nodded and left.

I looked at Buck.
“Buck?”

His cold eyes stared at me for a moment before he answered. “I’m good at hunting.”

Just like that, I knew he meant more than deer. My mouth had been watering from the smell of the bread but Buck’s comment suddenly killed my appetite and reality came flooding back. The men from the parking lot were going to be royally pissed when they woke up, and so was Miami. The best thing I could do for Buck now was to get him away from me. The longer I was in his company, the harder it’d be to explain. As if on cue, my cell phone rang. I managed not to jump but I couldn’t stop my mind from spiraling to last week’s incident.

I’d stupidly decided to shake Shorty and his partner by getting up at 5:00 a.m. and driving to Jacksonville. I had no plan other than to get away for a day. Maybe the beach, maybe a mall—I didn’t care. Shorty had pissed me off the night before by following me through the grocery store. I thought I’d go for a little payback.

I made it exactly five miles out of town before my cell started ringing. First it was Miami, asking where the hell I was going. When I hung up on him, Shorty started calling. He wasn’t as nice. In a fit of rage, I’d thrown the phone out the window then I turned the car around and went home. I spent the rest of the day holed up in my apartment, waiting for something to happen. By 10:00 p.m., I stupidly thought I was in the clear and went to bed. An hour later, Shorty pounded on my front door.

“Wake the fuck up, bitch!”

Panicked a neighbor would call the police, not thinking straight, I’d opened the door in only a tank top and underwear.

Shorty had grabbed me by the throat, and his hot, rancid breath had slid over my skin.
“You throw away one more fucking cell phone,
pendeja
, and I’m going to fuck some sense into you.”
Then he’d shoved a new phone down the front of my panties.

“You going to answer that?”

I snapped out of the memory and put the phone to my ear.

Buck turned away as if to give me privacy.

“Miami,” I said bitterly.

“Ah, little one, you disappoint me,” his Hispanic accent crooned over the line. I’d never seen him, didn’t know his real name, didn’t know what he looked like, but I knew his wretched voice.

“What else is new? I just can’t win. You’re so hard to please.” Sarcasm was my coping mechanism. If I let the fear or hatred in, it took over.

“Where are you? Come home, you’re so far away. It’s too cold for you there.” His concern, as always, was fake. It was also a precursor to his anger. His anger I took seriously. He could do bad, bad things with it.

“I have no home.” He’d made sure of that.

He tsked. “Such talk—you have a beautiful home. Water views, a beautiful swimming pool. Is so nice. Come home, lay by the pool. You feel better.”

I’d heard it all before. The home had belonged to my parents before they died. Now it was mine. I should’ve sold it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. My mother had loved that house.

“I have to work. I can’t
lay
around all day,” I snapped at him.

“You don’t have to work, little one. There’s plenty of money, you know this. I don’t like you working, too many bad people out there. Is not safe. You come home. I show you nice young man. You get married, have babies, fill that big house.”

Everything he said was bullshit. He wanted to control me. His freedom depended on it. Unfortunately, my life depended on his freedom. “Not a chance.”

Miami’s voice lost its polite edge. “But that man you’re with? He’s not good man. You’re in danger and now because of him it will take me hours to get someone up there to protect you.”

I glanced at Buck. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You tink he can save you? You tink I won’t get to him too?”

My stomach bottomed out.

Miami’s voice turned chillingly quiet. “Because I will. No one can protect you but me. I ask again. Where are you?”

Miami didn’t protect anything, he made people disappear. I’d spent three years trying not to become a statistic. “The movies,” I lied.

“Don’t lie to me,
hijita,
we both know what happens when you do that,” he warned.

Anger flared. “I’m
not
your daughter,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m
no one’s
daughter, thanks to you.” How dare he. He was there,
he was there
when my parents were murdered. I’d heard him. That phone call and his voice were permanently burned into my memory.

Miami’s tone instantly turned placating. “Are you alone?”

“No, I’m not alone,” I said through gritted teeth, stupidly taunting him.

Buck’s hand came down on my thigh and I flinched. I didn’t dare look at him. I’d just thrown him to the wolves.

“Ah, well, you leave me no choice. Remember, you brought this on yourself.” Miami hung up.

Shit.
Shit
. I threw the phone back in my purse and looked desperately for our waitress,
any
waitress.

“What’s going on?” Buck asked quietly, his hand generating way too much heat on my leg.

I flagged a cookie-cutter waitress down and practically jumped on her. “Two shots of Patrón, as quick as you can.” Her smile vanished when I made a shooing gesture.

Buck reached across me and snatched my purse. I made a grab for it but he had my cell out and the purse on the floor in a blink of an eye. “Hey!” I reached for his arm but he switched the cell to his other hand.

Buck pulled out his own cell phone and after checking the display on mine, he started messing with his.

“Give that back!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to cause a scene.

Shoving my purse across the floor to me with his boot, he handed my phone back.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snatched the stupid thing, turned it off and dumped it in my purse.

“Tracing the call,” he said calmly.

“
What?
You can’t do that!” Panic rose, sharp and painful.

“I can and I did.” He leveled me with a look. “Miami isn’t a name, it’s his location. Who’s Richard Smith?”

Oh God oh God oh God. It wouldn’t be his real name but that didn’t matter. Buck already knew too much. I had to get out of here. I stood on shaky legs and slung my purse over my shoulder. Buck watched me with those calm, piercing eyes. Graceless and inelegantly, I stepped over him and out of the booth.

“Okay, been nice knowing you. Good luck and all that. Hope your mom is okay. You can keep the car, forge my name on the title—or something.” As I spoke, the calm left Buck’s face and he started to stand, slow motion, like he was in shock.

I turned and fled.

IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE
is available now at all participating e-retailers.

T
urn the page for an excerpt from
IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE
, Book Two in the exciting Unchecked Series
by Sybil Bartel, now available at all participating e-retailers.

IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE

By Sybil Bartel

The marine kept his promise but Layna couldn’t escape her past. Now it’s up to her to save them both.

Bagram Air Force Base, Afghanistan

“I
ED, HEAD TRAUMA, BP DROPPING
. What else you got for me, Sergeant?”

“Tourniquet on his right leg, burns on his right side, heart rate at one-seventy-seven, pulse ox at roughly ninety. He’s also got an IO on the left humerus.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Can you hear me, Marine? What’s your name?”

“He’s been unresponsive for…two minutes, thirty, Doc.”

“Any medications given, Sergeant?”

“Oral fentanyl.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. We got it from here. Get him rolled, people. Pelvis is stable, significant soft tissue injury to the left leg. Watch that arm laceration. Breath sounds bilaterally. He has a palpable femoral pulse, heart sounds normal, narrow pulse pressure. Let’s get him into surgery.”

“M
ISS ME, SUGAR?”

I shrieked, my body lurching a foot off the lounger. Grabbing my untied bikini top, I barely managed to keep myself covered as my other hand flew to my forehead to shield my eyes. Sun-bleached hair, bright green eyes, gorgeous tanned muscles—my only friend in this whole world gazed mischievously at me.

“Talon!” I couldn’t decide if I should kick him or kiss him for sneaking up on me.

His sultry chuckle washed over me. “Hello sweet island girl.” He shamelessly flirted, brushing my hair aside.

I grinned like it was Christmas morning. “You’re here.”

Talon gave me his million-dollar smile. “Yeah, Sugar, I’m here.”

Ignoring the traces of melancholy in his voice, I quickly tied my top and threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here?” I hadn’t seen him since he’d traded another man’s life for my freedom.

Talon’s hard arms tightened around me and he stood to his full height, literally sweeping me off my feet. “Aw, Sugar,” he chided softly. “Is that any way to greet an old man?”

Pushing the memories of three months ago aside, I smiled up at him. “You’re not old,” I said, playing our game.

“True enough, but you didn’t answer my question.” He tried to frown but it didn’t stick.

I was so happy to see him, I smiled wider. “You didn’t answer mine.”

His face softened and his Southern accent turned to warm honey. “Christ, Sugar, have a heart. I can hardly ’member my own name when you look at me with those big brown eyes, smilin’ like you won the lotto.”

I laughed and snuggled into him. Sun, sand, surf and coconuts, no one smelled like Talon. Inhaling deeply, I almost couldn’t believe he was here.

He kissed my forehead. “There, ya see, Sugar? I knew ya missed these arms holdin’ ya tight.” His voice went quiet. “It’s been too long.”