“Did my uncle pass inspection?”
“With flying colors,” she chuckled. “I definitely approve. He’s perfect for her.”
“So you said there were several reasons,” he prodded. “Why else?”
“Well, like I mentioned, it’s a good place to start building some good business contacts.”
“And?” he prompted.
She exhaled. “Why do I think I’m not the only one who might be considered astute around here?” she muttered. It was Zane’s turn to smile serenely. “Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath, as if gathering her courage.
“I’m hoping to start over. California is radically different from my Northeastern upbringing.” And beachy southern California was the last place anyone who knew her would look for her.
“Why do you need to start over?”
She scratched her nail against a dark spot on the ceramic mug. “I made a lot of mistakes, some that nearly cost me my life. I’m not really comfortable talking about it, though.” She glanced up at Zane to gauge his reaction. She really hadn’t revealed much, but he had a feeling it was a big deal for her to even admit that much.
“I can understand that,” Zane said quietly. “I’ve made a few mistakes myself.”
She raised her eyes to his in question, but he was every bit as closemouthed about certain life-shaping events as she was. Besides, he had no wish to send her running in the other direction just yet. A woman like Celeste just might if she knew some of the horrible things he’d done in the name of freedom, acts he’d meted out in the name of justice. Someday, maybe, he might be able to share. If he ever could tell anyone, it would be someone like Celeste. Someone who understood all too well what it took sometimes to survive in an ugly world.
Her eyes were doing that swirling thing again, little ribbons of dark mahogany moving through liquid amber. He could almost see her connecting the dots as she seemed to look into his soul. Strangely enough, he allowed it, sighing. Not talking about it was one thing, but there was no way he could completely hide the damage, not from someone as intelligent and, he was realizing, perceptive, as Celeste. She hid behind that quiet gentleness, used it as a screen, but she was every bit as watchful as he was. Underestimating her would be a grave mistake.
“You’re not re-enlisting.” It was a softly-spoken statement, not a question. As if she knew . Knew the deepest, darkest secrets of his soul. And for the first time in years, something unclenched deep in his gut. She was still there, not running away, and she gave no indication of wanting to.
He shook his head, his eyes unreadable. “No. Like you, I’m starting over.”
Or trying to. When he closed his eyes at night, he still heard it. The sharp staccato of rapid gunfire. The hate-filled shouts in a guttural foreign language. The screams of young women who had been abducted and brutalized, sold to the highest bidder. The knowledge that this had been what his mother and sister had faced when they had been taken by the same monsters.
He’d been overseas at the time, but he knew every last detail by heart. It had been a family vacation; his father, his mother, his sixteen year old sister. They’d woken up, eaten breakfast, then went out to do some sightseeing. His father went to take a piss, woke up much later in some rat-infested bathroom with a gash in his head. After showing photos of his missing wife and daughter, the local policia informed his father that they had likely been the victims of a human trafficking operation. They were sympathetic, but not optimistic.
Charlie Fagan had appealed to the U.S. Embassy, but they hadn’t been very helpful, either. He took it upon himself to find them, detailing every lead in letters he sent back to Zane. Off the grid on assignment, Zane hadn’t received the thick bundle until after his father’s body had been discovered. His father had been shot execution style and left in his hotel room,
“With flying colors,” she chuckled. “I definitely approve. He’s perfect for her.”
“So you said there were several reasons,” he prodded. “Why else?”
“Well, like I mentioned, it’s a good place to start building some good business contacts.”
“And?” he prompted.
She exhaled. “Why do I think I’m not the only one who might be considered astute around here?” she muttered. It was Zane’s turn to smile serenely. “Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath, as if gathering her courage.
“I’m hoping to start over. California is radically different from my Northeastern upbringing.” And beachy southern California was the last place anyone who knew her would look for her.
“Why do you need to start over?”
She scratched her nail against a dark spot on the ceramic mug. “I made a lot of mistakes, some that nearly cost me my life. I’m not really comfortable talking about it, though.” She glanced up at Zane to gauge his reaction. She really hadn’t revealed much, but he had a feeling it was a big deal for her to even admit that much.
“I can understand that,” Zane said quietly. “I’ve made a few mistakes myself.”
She raised her eyes to his in question, but he was every bit as closemouthed about certain life-shaping events as she was. Besides, he had no wish to send her running in the other direction just yet. A woman like Celeste just might if she knew some of the horrible things he’d done in the name of freedom, acts he’d meted out in the name of justice. Someday, maybe, he might be able to share. If he ever could tell anyone, it would be someone like Celeste. Someone who understood all too well what it took sometimes to survive in an ugly world.
Her eyes were doing that swirling thing again, little ribbons of dark mahogany moving through liquid amber. He could almost see her connecting the dots as she seemed to look into his soul. Strangely enough, he allowed it, sighing. Not talking about it was one thing, but there was no way he could completely hide the damage, not from someone as intelligent and, he was realizing, perceptive, as Celeste. She hid behind that quiet gentleness, used it as a screen, but she was every bit as watchful as he was. Underestimating her would be a grave mistake.
“You’re not re-enlisting.” It was a softly-spoken statement, not a question. As if she knew . Knew the deepest, darkest secrets of his soul. And for the first time in years, something unclenched deep in his gut. She was still there, not running away, and she gave no indication of wanting to.
He shook his head, his eyes unreadable. “No. Like you, I’m starting over.”
Or trying to. When he closed his eyes at night, he still heard it. The sharp staccato of rapid gunfire. The hate-filled shouts in a guttural foreign language. The screams of young women who had been abducted and brutalized, sold to the highest bidder. The knowledge that this had been what his mother and sister had faced when they had been taken by the same monsters.
He’d been overseas at the time, but he knew every last detail by heart. It had been a family vacation; his father, his mother, his sixteen year old sister. They’d woken up, eaten breakfast, then went out to do some sightseeing. His father went to take a piss, woke up much later in some rat-infested bathroom with a gash in his head. After showing photos of his missing wife and daughter, the local policia informed his father that they had likely been the victims of a human trafficking operation. They were sympathetic, but not optimistic.
Charlie Fagan had appealed to the U.S. Embassy, but they hadn’t been very helpful, either. He took it upon himself to find them, detailing every lead in letters he sent back to Zane. Off the grid on assignment, Zane hadn’t received the thick bundle until after his father’s body had been discovered. His father had been shot execution style and left in his hotel room,
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