Right? No, Dyl. Things aren’t right, because the only man who’s made me feel more “right” in my life is fourteen years older than me, makes more in an hour than I do in a year, and turns me to applesauce by paddling my ass raw. I’m not sure how to make all that into a nice big case of “right,” do you?
“I—I’m fine, you guys.” She forced it out, knowing they wouldn’t let up if she didn’t.
“And reindeer really know how to fly,” Nik countered.
Still using the funeral home voice, Dylan asked, “You want to tell us about him?”
She backhanded the tears off her cheeks. “No. Just—you guys—no, I don’t.”
I can’t.
What the hell could make this Christmas Eve more morose?
The next moment, she could’ve shot herself for the question. Dylan’s cell, though set on vibrate in his pocket, buzzed into the night like a bomb fuse set afire. Celina turned and watched her brother’s face as he looked at the screen. Correction: her brother’s glower.
“Is it Natalie?” Her logic went there naturally. It would be just like Dyl’s ex to call from some glamour port on the other side of the world, where it was Christmas Day already and she was celebrating with a sangria while some hunk named Hans gave her “stressed-out” shoulders a rubdown.
“No,” Dylan snapped. “Worse.” He rammed the phone to his ear as he said, “Kouris here, Commander.”
Celina’s stare locked to Nik’s. “Now?” she whispered. Her brother only shrugged.
Dylan got off the call fast. He didn’t say anything as he repocketed the phone.
“What’s up?” Nike asked. “You’re not buggin’, are you?”
Dylan’s gaze, normally the shade of decadent chocolate, went thunder dark. “Yeah. I’m afraid so.”
“What?” Celina slammed her beer on the deck table. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing basic transports and shit now? Is that why you requested to be based here, mister single dad?”
“Sometimes situations call for duty in different ways, Cel.”
Comprehension hit like all the lights on the house really did blow up. “Crap.
Crap
. These ‘little hops’ you’ve been doing… Oh Dyl, are you going on fighter runs again?”
Her brother looked down at the hand she gripped to his shoulder. Then raised his somber gaze to her face. “This isn’t the time, Cel. There’s shit happening that I can’t tell you about. Let it rest.”
“Let what rest?”
The question came from Dad, who’d opened the door and let out a tantalizing draft of roasted meats, fresh potatoes, and something with pumpkin in it.
“Damn,” Dylan muttered. “That smells fucking good.” He threw a fast glance at Dad. “Sorry, Captain. I’m not gonna be able to stay and enjoy it.”
Dad nodded. “You do what you have to do, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks, Dad. I will.”
“
What
?”
The interruption burst from Sami this time. The girl poked out from behind Dad, an iPod in her hand and new grief welling in her big dark eyes. “Daddy? What’s happening?”
Dylan crouched down and reached for his daughter. “Samantha Karena,” he said softly. “Come here.” As his daughter rushed and clutched him, using the seat he created for her with his thigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and kissed the top of her head. He enfolded her like she was a fifty-three-inch version of the Hope Diamond. Celina palmed back more tears, caught between wanting to embrace her brother in pride and knock him up the side of the head in fury. The dilemma only worsened when Sami’s heavy sniff cut through the thick silence that had taken over the porch.
“Do you
have
to go, Dad?”
Dylan dipped his face into his daughter’s hair for a long moment before speaking again. “Who are you?” he charged softly.
“Samantha Karena Kouris.” The response wavered with tears.
“Again.”
“Samantha. Karena. Kouris.” She raised her head and said the syllables boldly this time. “The kid of the bad-ass, supersonic, bad-guy-whooping Falcon.”
Everyone erupted in chuckles. “No coaching going on there, huh?” Nik quipped.
Sami was the first to go sober again. “I understand you need to go, Dad. But now who’s gonna be my date for the Kris Kringle Ball tomorrow night?”
Celina looked up. Nik was already prepped with the don’t-look-at-
me
scowl. Though attending the base’s annual Christmas night bash was a family tradition, Nikolas made it a point to stay off the dance floor. Nobody ever argued. Nik’s creator had given him the hands of a surgeon, the nerves of a Zen monk, and the dancing ability of a drunk monkey.
Thankfully, Dad spoke up. “I’ll be proud to take you to the dance,
manari mou
.”
Sami but her lip. “Uhhh, no offense,
papou
, but…errr, you’re my grandfather and…”
Dad chuckled. “I understand, honey. Your friends will be there. You want somebody with a hotness factor.”
From the shadows just beyond the flare from the house lights, an easygoing baritone called out, “Will your new Navy SEAL uncle do?”
They all let out gasps of shock. The next second, a handsome, familiar face materialized from the darkness. Dad got his voice back first. “Cam?”
Her little brother grinned and waggled his dark brows. He still wore his uniform. On the right side of his chest, there was a brand-new SEAL Team trident patch.
“Holy shit!” Nik was the closest to the street, so got to his brother first. The whole family fast piled on top of their embrace. Celina gave up trying to hold in her tears.
“When…how…” She couldn’t seem to form a full sentence.
Cameron laughed at her and looked up at the house in amazement. “Cel, I swear to God, I saw your house from the transport.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Dad broke in. “I could’ve picked you up, Son.”
“I didn’t know myself until this morning,” Cameron answered. “They put us through a crappy-ass morning PT and were waiting with the patches when we got back. Believe me, after that PT, the walk here from the ‘L’ was a jaunt in the fucking park.”
“Hey!” Dylan cuffed Cam across the top of his head. “SEAL or not, watch your language around my kid.”
“Eat me, asshat.”
Nik chuffed. “Nice one, Cam.”
Dylan barreled into both of them at once. The three men rolled across the lawn like bears fighting over a salmon.
“Ahhhh!” Celina screamed. “Watch out for the rein—”
Too late. The decorations got kicked out to the street.
Sami shook her head and planted her hands on her hips. “Jeez. Boys. They’re never easy, are they, Auntie Cel?”
Celina curled Sami’s head into the crook of her shoulder. Naturally, even thinking of answering the question filled her mind with Dante. She wondered what he was doing on this starry, chilly night. She wondered if he was spending the evening with all those people from the photos in his home, laughing and eating, or if he even tumbled across a lawn somewhere with his own brothers. Shockingly, she could really envision that. The image made her smile softly, before she scraped it free from her mind and forced it to vanish.
“No,” she finally answered her niece. “They’re not easy, sweetie…but every once in a while, they can be worth the trouble.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dante thought about backing out of the Kris Kringle Ball gig this year. This would be his sixth return to the event; surely somebody else was chomping at the bit to get into the Santa suit for once. But Lois Stanbridge, the sweet little coordinator from the veterans’ wives group that put on the party, had called and begged until her face was likely more blue than her hair. Just what was he supposed to use for a good back-out? He was out of town? A lie easily exposed. His puppy was crapping all over the condo? Not a lie but not effective; she’d just tell him to bring Star along with him.
For a wild moment, he considered the truth.
I’m sorry, Lois, old girl. You see, I’m barely in the holiday spirit this year because every other beat of my heart is screaming for a woman I can’t have. Let me tell you about the night I gave my heart to her. It also happened to be the night she surrendered her body and spirit to me. Did I forget to mention the paddle and the anal plug I used on her? Did I also forget to mention there’s a good chance she’ll be at this damn ball?
Okay, maybe he’d be stretching with that last one. Celina had been dragged by her toenails to the Veteran’s Day party, so what made him think she’d look on this bash any differently?
Because this was a family night, that was why. Because she had a niece whom she adored, who’d likely haul the whole family to the party. What kid on the base missed this thing? A post-Christmas bash where Santa made “one last stop” on his way back to the Pole? C’mon. No-brainer.
He started climbing into the padded suit that would turn him into the most popular guy at the party. He ran through a few practice “Ho ho hos” and jelly-belly laughs, but the Kringle vibe wasn’t settling in yet.
“Get your shit together, Inferno.” He zipped up the suit and already started sweating, even though he wore nothing but boxers under the costume. “The chance you’re even going to see her is one in five hundred—literally. It’s not like she’s going to
see
you in return.”
“Oh, Mr. Tieri!” Lois Stanbridge’s singsongy voice bounced up the stairs. “Or should I say, Oh, Mr. Kris Kringle! Are we ready for our grand entrance?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He uttered the response to his reflection, pulling on the red velvet hat and forcing at least a small twinkle to his eyes. It was Christmas Day, after all. A little wish-granting magic was in order, even if he wasn’t on Santa’s “Good” list this year.
* * * *
Two and a half hours later, his heart actually was lighter. The best and cheapest therapy on the planet was serving others, proven true to him every minute he spent with the excited base kids. A few even brought
him
gifts, including shared trinkets from their stockings and enough plates of cookies to keep “Santa” hefty for the next decade to come. He’d managed to relax a little too, when several scans of the room yielded no sign of a slender and graceful body, a waterfall of soft chestnut hair, and eyes that captivated like enchanted forests. Looked like the Kourises had skipped the bash. Thank God.
As the kids began to thin, a disc jockey plugged in and started some low-key tunes to warm up the teens and adults for their part of the evening’s fun. Dante got up from the ornate throne and made his way to the table where the cookie plates had been placed. He was hungry as a bear, and it all looked amazing.
He knew what he wanted as soon as he spied the powdered sugar mounds on the far side of the table. Kourambiedes. He’d gotten obsessed with the Greek Christmas cookies. The baked goods were a shitty substitute for the Greek “sweet” for which he was truly aching, to be sure, but he could think of worse comforts. Fortunately, exercise was also a compulsion when he was depressed.
He was about to pull the cellophane cover off the plate, when he lifted the flap of the note card taped to it. The message, scrawled in a kid’s careful cursive, replaced the hunger in his gut with a mix of heartache, excitement, and urgency.
Dear Santa,
I hope you enjoy these Kourambiedes cookies. They are a Greek tradition at Christmastime. Beware! They are very messy, especially if you make them the right way—and my dad REALLY makes them good. His name is Dylan Kouris, and he is a bad-ass, supersonic, bad-guy-whooping pilot. He also had to leave on a mission last night. I miss him and I am sad. ( :( ). But his cookies make me think of him, and I’m a little happier. I hope they make you happy too.
Love,
Samantha Karena Kouris
(Falcon’s Daughter)
His throat was tight as he swallowed. As if the note now gave him the magical power to do so, he spotted Sami right away. She sat at a corner table with a few friends, all crowded around an iPad with some fast-moving game loaded onto it. Sami was giving the peer camaraderie a decent try, but it wasn’t working. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes kept wandering the room, as if some Christmas miracle would still happen and her father would appear.
Sitting at the other side of the round table was a younger officer in camos. Dante recognized him immediately from the pictures in Celina’s place. He shared Celina’s thick dark hair and easy smile. At the moment, he tossed his head back on a laugh from something the woman next to him had said.
That woman was Celina.
Hell. Just fucking hell.
“Stellina.”
Over four weeks of separation should have gotten him over this, right? How could she still affect him like this, instantly seizing his senses, funneling his focus, possessing his every breath? She wasn’t even dressed in formal uniform tonight, which only worsened the effect. The white cashmere sweater and the poured-onto-her-body jeans gave him instant ideas about jamming his hands under them, maybe in one of the deserted hallways around here. He’d kiss her raw and order her to come for him, as he pinched a nipple with one hand and her clit with the other…
“Damn,” he muttered, looking down at the cookies again. “Damn it!”
Lois appeared next to him. “Mr. Tieri? Is everything all right?”
“Fine, Mrs. Stanbridge. Just fine.” He flashed a perfunctory smile. “I’m going to take a few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
He strode out of the room and back up to the little bathroom in which he’d changed his clothes. After whipping out his cell, he tapped in a quick message to Vincent.
Need the laptop from the trunk right away. The big one. Thanks. D~
After hitting the Send key on that, he clicked to his contacts list. From there, he typed in an eleven-digit code that got him to a second secret list. After finding the name he wanted, he pressed the Call button without a second thought. Then he hoped like hell that the vice admiral was picking up his cell right now.
Chapter Eighteen
“Hey, Sami. The DJ is starting to play some cool stuff. C’mon, girl.”
Celina watched as Cameron rose and extended a hand to his niece. The grin he tagged on the end of his invitation made two out of Sami’s three friends bust into enamored giggles. Sami gave a discomfited shrug. “No, thanks, Uncle Cam. Maybe a little later.”