Once I’ve finished, I appreciate that she remains silent, but the hitch of her breath tells me that she heard me loud and clear. She reaches over and laces her fingers with mine, her touch bringing comfort and a little more security in the midst of the sudden isolation I’ve felt.

“I’m from a small town in the Midwest. Let’s see… There’s not much to tell really. I had a Norman Rockwell type of upbringing, nothing spectacular, and then my parents died and my world turned upside down.” Her voice cracks, and I squeeze her hand, hating myself for asking her to speak about her past and at the same time needing to know, to hear it so that I can connect with her. “I’ve never been back. I left that town because there were just too many memories there, too much pain in the idea of walking down Main Street to see where my dad used to take me for ice cream or where my mom and I would meet for lunch. Or the place where the drunk driver hit them head-on and they died. So to me it doesn’t exist anymore because it reminds me too much of the loss, and I’d rather keep those memories sacred.”

I exhale slowly in response to the grief in her voice; it’s so raw that I sense that she understands how I feel about Stella, that even after all of this time, she still hasn’t fully dealt with the losses in her life either.

The heat makes me sweat and causes my shirt to stick to my skin as I prepare myself to really talk about it for the first time.

“It was my birthday.” Those first words are the hardest to get out, namely the admission that I was the cause of Stella’s death. “I told Stella not to make a big deal about it, that we’d have a little celebration at the bar later. I told her that I wanted to Skype with my family and have the party downstairs and I was more than happy with that. She agreed…” My voice trails off as I recall the look on her face, the sound of her voice as she promised me that she wouldn’t do anything else because the city had been in some major unrest with the opposition making a few daring assaults in the city to make its power known.

“There were a few new freelancers, all eager beavers to get out there and pop their break-the-story cherry. From what I could gather after the fact, Stella was hell-bent on getting me a birthday present. She wanted to get decorations for the bar and pick me up something else. I didn’t know any of this obviously, or else I would have stopped… It wouldn’t have all happened.”

I pause for a second, the memory coming back to me clear as day. The party in full swing in the bar just as dusk fell. Stella snapping picture after picture, telling me, “Pictures make memories last forever,” every time I balked when she pointed the shutter my way. I can still feel the way her arms slid around my waist and how she looked up to me as Pauly took the picture that sits on the memory card in the camera on my dresser at home – I’ve never looked at it, but that image is forever burned in my memory.

“Halfway through the party she disappeared. I couldn’t find her. I guess she’d told some of the newbies that she was upset that I wouldn’t let her out of my sight long enough for her to surprise me with a birthday present. The new guys didn’t know me for shit except for my reputation, and so they wanted to get out in the city, experience the danger they’d come here to witness. She agreed. Said as long as they’d be out and back within thirty minutes so I didn’t notice she was gone.”

“Oh, Tanner.” It’s all Beaux says as she shifts her body so she can lean her head on my shoulder, but it’s just enough to tell me she knows what’s coming next. Understands the guilt that weighs so heavily on me.

“At some point I noticed that the camera was gone. I’d had enough to drink by then, but I remember thinking, Thank God Stella’s not taking pictures anymore. One thing led to another, and I found out what she was doing when I questioned another reporter who’d overheard them talking. I went apeshit. Ran out of the hotel, sobering up with each step because I swear, Beaux, it was like I knew I had to get to her, sensed something was going to happen to her… but it already had by the time I got there.” I clear my throat, trying to use my training as a journalist to tell the story, except it’s utterly impossible to keep my emotions out of it.

“I guess Stella wanted to get me this satchel thing she’d seen when we’d passed by the market earlier in the month. Nothing big, just something to make me feel like I was a little more at home having a normal birthday. Apparently some of the opposition had targeted the location, thought the shopkeeper had turned information or something over to the standing government here from what we can make out. They opened fire on the market when she was paying. Three people were inside. I got there a few minutes after it happened. Tried to save her.” I stop talking at that point, can’t say anything else for a moment as I turn my head away from her, not wanting her to see my eyes well up.

I use the back of my hand to wipe the tears away before they spill over as she runs her free hand up and down my arm. “I’m so sorry, Tanner. I don’t even know what… I’d tell you that it’s not your fault, but I know more than anyone those words are useless when you feel guilty anyway.”

“Yeah,” I agree, and turn to face her. “She promised me she’d never go out alone. It was one of the very few times she did…”

“And look what happened,” Beaux says, her eyes telling me she gets the correlation I’ve made between her and Stella, that every time she walks out without me knowing about it, I worry the same thing will happen to her.

We sit in silence, the temperature rising as the sun moves higher in the sky, and I come to terms with the fact that I feel better having told her about Stella and what happened and that maybe, just maybe, she’ll feel the same way and tell me her history someday.

Chapter 16




“This is Tanner Thomas reporting live for Worldwide News.”

I wait for the Skype connection to end like usual, make sure the feed is dark, before I shut down and close my laptop. I find myself staring at the world beyond as I take a deep breath, wondering where exactly Omid is in that mix. Is my number one source gone for good now that his face is on record? My texts to him saying the pictures have been destroyed have gone unanswered.

I just hope my relationship with him isn’t gone too.

“That went well,” Beaux says, pulling me from my thoughts so that I turn to watch her as she exits the bathroom, hair wet and robe knotted with a tie around her waist.

I snort. “Thanks. It’s the same boring shit, though,” I say, scrubbing a hand through my shaggy hair that’s starting to drive me crazy. “I’m here to report conflict, action, not repeat the same repetitive crap,” I groan to her. “I’m getting antsy. It’s been what, a little over two weeks since Sarge called and still nothing.”

“Lest you forget the Scrabble tournament. I mean that was scintillating entertainment,” she teases, drawing a chuckle from me over one of the lame ways we tried to pass time last week with an impromptu Scrabble challenge amongst all of the journalists. “Who knew qwerty was a legitimate and legal word?”

When I meet her eyes, I’ve got a lopsided smirk on my face over our first real fight over nothing. Every relationship has to have those, and the fact that we hit that milestone makes me feel a little more like we’re a normal couple despite this crazy-ass set of circumstances. There is supposed to be a war going on and it’s my job to report those events. And not having anything happening makes me feel useless, even though I don’t appreciate the evils of combat. Despite the company I get to keep nowadays, I’m feeling bored.

Although that company is definitely not a hardship to look at. I glance back as Beaux walks toward me and take her all in: ebony hair wet and falling over her shoulders making a dark mark on the fabric of her robe, her toned, tanned legs making me wish the thigh-length robe were even shorter, and the press of her nipples through the thin fabric.

“Nothing from Omid?” she asks as if she’s been reading my thoughts – and like it’s perfectly normal to be talking about sources when my libido is thinking about everything that’s beneath the light blue fabric of the robe.

“No.” I sigh loudly, my frustration audible. “Not from him or any of my other sources. It’s complete radio silence. I think that’s part of the problem. I know something is in the works. I agree with Sarge. Everyone is lying low, waiting to see who makes the first move. I know Omid knows something… That’s why he’s lost in the wind again. If only he would text me back, then I’d feel so much better knowing that there isn’t some huge meet going on that we’re going to miss, you know?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmurs as she walks up behind me, presses a kiss to the crown of my head, and runs her fingers through my hair, playing with it where it curls over the tops of my ears.

“That’s my story. I’ve been tracking it for months, worked my ass off to get the contacts to ensure that I’m there when it goes down, and now I feel like it’s going to slip through my fingers.”

“I understand why you think that… but you’re just antsy from being stuck in this damn hotel. Maybe you need to get out. Take a walk. It helps me when I do.”

I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, I know it helps when you take a walk,” I say sarcastically, aware that she’s probably rolling her eyes right now. But at the same time I know those solo walks of hers are nonexistent now since I’ve made a habit of being with her each and every night.

And being smothered never felt so damn good. Especially when it’s the weight of her body on top of mine.

“He’s probably just playing it safe. He seems totally loyal to you. I’m sure if there was something going on, he’d tell you about it.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, leaning my head back against the warmth of her belly, while part of me worries about Omid, hoping that he really is okay and nothing has happened to him. “I spoke with Rafe when you were in the shower. He reiterated what he said to you about how much the brass really loves the pictures you’re turning in.” For some reason I need her to know how incredible they are, especially after all of the shit I gave her in the beginning about not being good enough.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly as her fingers thread through my hair, nails scratching my scalp in the most hypnotizing of ways.

“He asked me how we were getting along.”

I love the throaty laugh that follows with that hint of the unique rasp of her voice to it. It sounds almost as if she’s holding a secret and I’ll be the only one she’s going to tell. It also causes that slow burn of desire that’s always on low flame to start to simmer inside me.

“And what did you tell him?”

“Hmm… that we were managing one day at a time. That I still found you irritating and a know-it-all. That it was a real feat for me to sit hours on end with you and not want to strangle you. But that at least you were good at taking photographs because you can’t play Scrabble for shit,” I deadpan as her hands still in my hair and I wait for her reaction.

“Irritating, huh?” She removes her hands from my scalp and steps in front of me. She lifts an eyebrow in challenge as I try to figure out just where she’s going with this.

“Yep. And a know-it-all,” I say with a nod and a smart-ass smile on my lips as my eyes flicker down to the deep V of where her robe parts. Only about a foot-long section is closed now, affording me a killer view of her cleavage down to just above her belly button and a lot of leg, and damn if I don’t suddenly lose all train of thought.

“Well, Pulitzer, I’m so sorry that it’s so taxing for you to have to sit with me all… day… long,” she says in the breathiest of voices, drawing every single word out at the same time she steps forward and stands so that her legs straddle both of my thighs. I slide my eyes ever so slowly from her legs up her torso to meet her gaze, my hands itching to reach out and touch, but shit, I’ll let her take the reins for a bit to see just where she takes this because I’m liking the direction already.

“It’s a hard job, but somebody’s got to do it,” I say with emphasis. And of course at that same moment she lowers herself to sit astride my lap, ass on my knees, placing the enticing heat of her pussy right atop my cock. I have to hold back the wave of dizziness that threatens to assault me from the downright mind-rattling sensation.