I hear a ding on my phone.

Jackson: Hey, I need to go to the office. We need to leave in 30 min.

Me: Okay. No problem.

There must me something serious going on. He’s been on the phone several times, has gone in to the office, and seems tense when it comes to anything regarding his security firm. I start to pack my bags and close my laptop. Luckily, there isn’t too much stuff to pick up. I close my eyes, remembering how Jackson was so reluctant to leave this morning, how he melted another part of my carefully constructed wall. It’s so easy to be comfortable around him.

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. Grabbing my bags and giving the room a once over, my trepidation soars. What do I say or do? I’m not good at this crap, which is why I’ve always been in a relationship. I don’t know what this is, so I don’t know how to act. Another bang on the door. I can’t hide since he’s my ride home. I channel some inner strength and head to the door.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to mine.

Maybe this won’t be so awkward.

“Hey.” I look him over and grin. Now that I know what’s underneath those clothes, it’s virtually impossible not to stare. His eyes narrow and his dimple reappears.

“Are you mentally undressing me?”

Cocky ass.

“No!” Damn him and his ability to read me. “What time is our flight?”

He smiles and grabs my bag—always the gentleman. “We leave around six, but I may have to push it back depending on what I find out when I get to the office.”

Letting my curiosity get the best of me, words tumble out of my mouth as we head to the elevator. “What’s going on? Can I help?” He looks over with his head cocked to the side. “I’m not trying to pry.” And here I go with my overstepping. I swear one day I’ll keep my big mouth shut.

“You’re not prying.” Jackson’s fingers interlace with mine and my heart skips a beat. Just the small physical touch he gives me is reassuring. “I told you we have contracts, but our contracts are very different. Basically, my company trains men and women to go to a war zone. They get paid a lot of money, but it’s hazardous. We get funded by the government and we send a team to do various missions or security details.”

“Wow, sounds dangerous.”

“It can be, but we make sure our people have the best equipment, training, and anything else they could need while they’re out there. It’s why most of my team are former SEALs or prior military.”

It’s insane to think people volunteer to go to Iraq and Afghanistan when they aren’t in the military. Ice shoots through my veins, freezing me in place. What if Jackson has to go? I’m sure he’s been before and it’s obvious he’s trained, but still. Would he spend long periods of time there?

Jackson stops and cups my face. “What is it?”

Unable to articulate my sudden anxiety, I shake my head and smile. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m trying to understand why anyone would do that voluntarily.” I’m not going to bring up that it’s him I’m worried about. For all I know this relationship—or whatever it is—could be done next week. I break his hold and head toward the elevator. I need to shake this dread from the pit of my stomach. Otherwise, this thing we have might be over before it actually begins.

“Well, for a lot of us it’s that we miss serving. But it’s different for everyone.”

I guess that makes sense. I’m hoping he doesn’t have that same desire. I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to handle it. However, I’d rather not go there right now.

The ride to the office is quiet. About thirty minutes later, we arrive at Cole Security. I’m hoping to see a little more of what Jackson’s world is like. We walk in and head straight to his office. A few people raise their hands but they’re either immersed in paperwork or on the phone. I head over to the wall of photos and take a closer look. Mark is in a lot of them along with three other men. They look like they’re really close.

“Jackson?” He looks up. “Who are these guys?” I ask, pointing to the picture of the five of them all smiling in their uniforms.

He walks over, smiling, and takes the picture down. “This is Mark.” He points and then hangs the photo back on the wall. “The other guys were in my unit. Aaron.” He points to the one guy in the middle. “He works for me here. But Brian and Fernando died on a mission.” He runs his fingers through his hair with his eyes downcast. I want to console him but someone walks in before I have the chance.

“Hey, you’re here. Good.” A stocky guy with a goatee comes in the door. I recognize him as Aaron from the picture. He heads over to Jackson’s desk as he searches through the papers in his hand.

“Aaron, this is Catherine.”

I smile and lift my hand. He smiles and looks back to Jackson. Okay. A man of few words.

“I talked to a few people at the base, but so far nothing. I think some of us should head out and oversee the team in place now. The information is sketchy and I don’t like it. There’s something that doesn’t feel right.” Aaron speaks so fast that I have a hard time keeping up. He keeps grabbing at his neck, obviously stressed.

Jackson clears his throat and starts to pace. After a few minutes of back and forth, and what appears to be a lot of consideration, he answers, “Talk to Mark. If you both agree, then fine, get a team together. I want you or Mark on point. I don’t know what’s going on out there, but we need to get it settled and I don’t trust anyone else.”

“I agree, Muff. I’m going to see who’s on standby and also work some other angles. I don’t want to head out there with Natalie so close to delivering, but I will if it comes to that.”

“Fuck, I forgot she’s due soon. Let’s try to avoid anyone going if we can. See if you can work any more contacts and find out why their shipments are delayed.” Jackson glances at me and then looks back to Aaron.

“Okay, I’ll keep you in the loop.” Aaron heads back out and I smile, nodding as he walks past.

I stand by the wall, unsure of what to do. There’s something going on in his company and he’s dealing with launching a new campaign with his other company. It’s a lot to take on. How do I fit into all this? This question and my own uncertainties are always looming. I make myself a promise to keep this under control. Jackson brings out my strength and I’m going to find a way to let that show more. Looking at his friends and all the things he’s done is astounding. He’s a leader, a friend, and seems to be loved by many.

“Ready?”

“Ah!” I nearly scream as he scares the shit out of me. Lost in the photos and my own inner thoughts, Jackson’s stealth mode catches me off guard yet again.

His deep, throaty chuckle is against my neck as his arms wrap around me from behind.

“Seriously, this is getting old.” I mean really, am I that oblivious?

He runs his face against my neck, his stubble scratching against my skin. Leaning back into his embrace, he places chaste kisses on my shoulder and neck as he runs his hands up my arms and squeezes. When he stops, I turn to face him. His eyes are desolate—completely void—as they look at the photos on the wall.

“Jackson? Are you okay?” I ask apprehensively.

When he looks at me, he looks sad. He winces when I place my hand on his arm so I drop it. It’s the same look he had the last time he glimpsed at the photos and, like then, I’m unsure how to proceed. I don’t want to push him, but I want to know what’s causing him pain. I try again by placing my hand on his face, rubbing it on his scruffy cheek. Our gazes lock and I watch his eyes gloss with unshed tears. Leaning up, I place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I’m fine. I’m just lost in memories,” he finally replies, giving me some insight into what’s troubling him. I hate seeing anyone hurting, but for some reason Jackson’s pain feels like my own, worse even. And that scares me—a lot.

“Wanna tell me about them?”

“Not today.” He gives a small smile and places his lips against mine. I feel his tongue across the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. I grant him access and our tongues brush against each other. He kisses me slowly, tenderly, never rushing the kiss. It’s sweet, almost timid. My hands roam up his arms and around his neck as his fingers gently tangle in my hair. Our kiss stays soft, as if he’s pouring his emotion into me. Tears form as my own emotions are unleashed. My hurt, pain, sadness, and loss from the last few days bubbles up. His hands are sliding down my neck and then my shoulders when we hear a cough and a loud laugh behind us.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I don’t mind watching.” Mark smiles as he enters the room. He plops in a chair and puts his legs on the table.

I laugh as my heavy emotions quickly change to embarrassment, which is surely displayed across my face. As I start to move, Jackson grabs me and pulls me close, glaring at Mark. “By all means, asshole, make yourself at home.”

Mark looks around, smirking. “I need an office like this. You’re never here. I think I’ll move in after you leave.”

“I think maybe I’ll let Papa Smurf stay off the mission. You really could use some time in the sun,” Jackson goes back at Mark.

I giggle. Seriously, what is with these guys and their names? I don’t even want to ask who Papa Smurf is or how he earned that name.

“Did she just giggle?” Mark asks before snorting.

“Did you just snort?” I reply with a smile.

“Well played, Catherine. Well played.”

I love when men think they can get one over on me.

“She got you, fucker,” Jackson says while laughing and pushing Mark’s feet off the table. “What do you need?”

Mark and Jackson start talking about the mission that’s in trouble in Afghanistan. One of the trucks never delivered their second shipment of ammunition and they’re both worried. The stress of knowing their friends are in harm’s way must be insurmountable. No wonder Jackson was pissed the other day.

“Listen, Kitty.” Mark leans in since he’s finished talking with Jackson.

What the hell did he call me? “Kitty?”

“Yeah, I mean your name is Cat, so I figure Kitty is a good call sign for you. You get all cute and cuddly, but I bet you could claw someone’s eye out if they pissed you off. Right?” Mark laughs and raises his brow.

Jackson stands there with a smug smile on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t need a call sign. I’m pretty sure I’m not going on any missions anytime soon.”

“Nah, Kitty works. Plus, now that I know it pisses you off, this shit is going to be even more fun. Make sure fat ass stays out of trouble in New York. I don’t want to have to come up there and kick his ass.”

Jackson laughs, “Keep dreaming, fucker.”

Mark walks out of the office, whistling the melody of “The Cat Came Back” as he goes.

I turn to Jackson with my mouth hanging open. This can’t be real. He’s just smiling away, completely amused. I start to walk over, narrowing my eyes, and he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Catherine, Mark is a jackass.” He starts backing away as I move closer.

“Yes, I’ve learned as much, but you—” I point my finger as I get closer. “You didn’t even try to stop him.” I smile and bite my lip as Jackson takes a step forward.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to see him too much. Plus, if I intervene, it’ll only get worse. Besides, kittens are cute.” He reaches out, grabs me around my waist, and pulls me flush against him. My heart races and my breathing accelerates as he leans down and kisses me. He lifts me up and turns me, pushing my back against the wall. I wrap my leg around his waist as our mouths fuse together. Forcefully, passionately, he plunges into my mouth, claiming me. I moan, knowing that with every touch, with every kiss, I’m becoming his. The low flame that burns whenever Jackson is around turns into an inferno. I pull my mouth away, trying to push him back.

“Jackson, we have to stop.” My voice is weak and breathless.

He ignores my futile attempt for space and puts his arms against the wall, not allowing me to move anywhere. “I told you, in private I make no promises.”

“Yes, but we’re not in private. Two of your employees have already made that clear. Plus, we have a plane to catch.”

“I own the plane,” he whispers seductively against my lips. “It’ll wait until I’m ready. Tell me you don’t want me,” he commands and pulls his mouth back. I’m against the wall, breathless and unable to lie. I want him more than my next breath. “Tell me.”