Breaking the Rules

CHAPTER

SIX



LANDSTUHL, GERMANY

TUESDAY, 5 MAY 2009


Markie-Mark Jenkins wanted to visit Dan Gillman one last time before he and Izzy went wheels up and headed back to San Diego.

And because Izzy didn’t want to get into the gnarly details of why he didn’t want to go with, he found himself walking through the halls of the one place where he least wanted to be this morning—the one place he could actually come face-to-face again with Cynthia, since she worked here.

Still, he walked quickly and kept his head down and made it without mishap into the relative safety of Gillman’s room.

Dan was stuck here in the hospital for at least another few days—maybe less if he could convince the doctors that he wasn’t going to overexert himself. The nursing staff was also monitoring the fishboy for signs of infection, still calling him a “medical miracle,” because he’d survived quite a few touch-and-go days in the ICU after having first been brought in

But apparently Dan hadn’t gotten that particular memo, because he was looking remarkably average as he slept with his mouth open, his hair going every which way, and his face smashed against a pillow that bore a dark spot of his allegedly miraculous drool.

He’d kicked off part of his blanket, and sure enough, there was the leg in question—the one that everyone had dourly expected would need amputation. But Dan’s little piggy toes looked pink and healthy, and Izzy felt a hot rush of gladness that he usually didn’t associate with anything having to do with his arch-nemesis.

As Izzy and Jenk came farther into the room, Jennilyn LeMay, Danny’s first-rate, top-notch, high-class, too-good-for-him girlfriend stood up from where she was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to the fishboy’s bed, and put her finger to her lips.

“He’s been sleeping so badly at night,” she told them almost in-audibly. “He didn’t want to nap, but … When he finally does fall asleep, I just don’t have the heart to wake him.”

Danny wasn’t the only one sleeping badly. Jenn looked exhausted, and had clearly given up all attempts at looking professional, which was actually an improvement, in Izzy’s book. She was one of those women whose coif surrendered to a bad hair day with the slightest change in the weather, and who invariably snagged her stockings if she walked or moved. She was the one who’d lose a button on her strait-laced suit jacket thirty seconds before the Big Important Meeting, and she, alone, would get splashed when a car went through a puddle going round a corner. It was her shoulder the baby would throw up on while his diaper leaked on her sleeve, and while riding the subway, she was guaranteed to get jostled and spill her coffee down the front of her blouse.

She also had what Izzy thought of as a milk-maid complexion and physique. She was a tall, strapping, healthy young woman with gorgeous, fresh-looking skin. And she looked far more natural in the jeans, sneakers, and curve-hugging T-shirt she currently had on, with her baby-fine hair pulled back into a ponytail, all makeup scrubbed from her ordinary yet extremely not-unpleasant face.

“You look like you could use a break,” Jenkie told her. “We’ll sit with Danny for a while, if you want.”

Jenn looked uncertain until Izzy added, “We’ll stay until you get back. Go on, I can hear the coffee from the mess hall singing your name in three-part harmony. Jenny, I’ve got your number, I need to make you mine …”

She smiled when he sang and dimples appeared, and as Izzy gazed through her glasses and into her eyes—a nondescript light brown until combined with that smile—he felt a flash of understanding as to why Dan was so into her. She was pretty damn cute.

“I’ve never heard that song before,” she said dryly. “Oh, wait, except for every single day in sixth grade.”

As she turned and slipped out from behind the curtained partition, Izzy also made note of the way her generously curvaceous behind filled her jeans. Some people might have thought of her ass as being too generous, but the bottom line—pun intended—was that without the business suit and the sensible flat pumps, she was a seriously nice-looking woman.

And yet, she was completely against Dan’s usual type for a fly-to-Germany-because-you’re-in-the-hospital girlfriend. She was quite the standard, however, when it came to a meaningless vacation fling—a no-real-strings opportunity for the movie-star-handsome SEAL to get some.

In fact, Dan himself had concisely described his usual MO to Izzy, a mere few months earlier: Everyone wants to get laid. That’s just a fact of life. But there are ways to do it. Strategies. You don’t just automatically follow your dick. You use your head with the brain. You find the chunky girl with the really pretty friends. She’s low maintenance and low drama, plus she’s wired to believe that you’re too good to be true. She expects to be dumped, so when you do it, she lets go immediately.

Problem was, Jenn had overheard Dan as he’d spouted that elegant monologue to Izzy. She’d reacted as strongly as one might expect.

And she’d been so intent on putting distance between herself and Dan “Yes, I Really Did Just Call the Woman I’m Sleeping with Chunky” Gillman, she’d fallen into the clutches of a very nasty, crazy-ass son-of-a-bitch who sliced and diced woman as part of a lifelong hobby.

Danny had literally helped their team leaders blast through a wall to find her, at which point she’d fallen into his arms. But Izzy had seen the remains of some of the crazy serial killer’s victims, and he would have fallen, sobbing no less, into Danny’s strong arms, too, had he been the one tied up and at the top of the nasty-ass dude’s “to-do” list.

Still, the arm-falling-into had been temporary. Several hours after Jenn’s release from the hospital, Danny had shown up back at the hotel room the SEALs were sharing, looking a little shell-shocked at the fact that she’d sent him away. She’d apparently also told him that if he truly were serious about her, he should come back to visit her—after his next trip overseas.

She’d wait, she’d told him, but she wouldn’t wait forever.

It was a variation on the if you love someone, set them free theme, and good thinking on Jenn’s part.

It had, however, driven Dan completely crazy.

He’d spent most of their time overseas in the computer tent, sending Jenni e-mail. And apparently whatever he’d sent her had worked. Because here Jenn was, playing the role of the dickweed’s girlfriend, sitting patiently by the side of his hospital bed as he snored his days away and kept her up all night in a bad and entirely unromantic way.

Izzy leaned against the bed and shook it.

“What!” Dan said as he jerked awake. Or nearly awake. As SEALs, they’d all learned it was best to snap into high alert before their eyes even opened. But Danny had gotten soft these past few weeks in the hospital. Or maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe he was still heavily medicated.

Either way, the man was in a serious fog. He wiped the drool from the side of his face with his non-IV-attached arm as he looked around for Jenn and didn’t find her.

“She went for coffee,” Izzy reported cheerfully as he sat down in the chair she’d recently vacated.

“How are you doing?” Jenk asked Danny, who shook his head.

“F*cking low-grade infection,” he complained. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they’re afraid to release me. Guess it’s really broken, huh?”

Jenk shook his head as he looked down at the cast on his arm. “Yeah, what a pain in the ass. But they’re finally shipping me stateside. I’m going to desk-it in Commander Koehl’s office for a few more weeks.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining. The timing’s actually pretty good. I’ll get to watch Lindsey expand.”

“And puke her guts out every morning, noon, and night,” Izzy said.

“No, so far she’s good,” Jenk said.

“Famous last words,” Dan said.

They were in agreement. “Yeah. Cut to a close-up of Lindsey as she lunges for the porcelain god,” Izzy said, and look at that. He and Dan actually exchanged a we know something Jenk doesn’t know glance. He resisted the urge to check his cell phone, see if he’d gotten any tweets about hell finally freezing over.

“Hey, there you are.”

The voice that interrupted them was definitely female and oddly familiar. They all turned to see a woman coming through the curtain—gorgeous and young, with thick blond hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She was wearing a little black hormone-jangling dress that hugged her trim yet completely female body, topping it off with a pair of strappy high heels and red toenail polish at the south end of a pair of truly exceptional legs.

Despite it being 0940, she looked like a million bucks, dressed and made up for an evening out in one of the town’s pricier restaurants.

Izzy was certain that he knew her from somewhere, but he squinted, unable to remember where they’d met, or even when. Damn, she was hot. And, to be honest, if he’d sat down next to her at that bar last night, the evening could well have ended with a different outcome.

Of course, she was probably supernice, too. And as long as he was being honest, he needed to admit the fact that, should he have sat down next to her at that bar last night? He would’ve come up with a dozen solid reasons for not sleeping with her, too.



She was not Eden.

She had never been Eden.

She was never going to become Eden …



Yeah. He was such a loser. He would have said no to her, too.

Dan and Jenk were also struck dumb and staring—gaping almost—and the woman laughed as she came around to the other side of Dan’s bed.

“You have no idea who I am, out of uniform like this, do you?” She was looking at and speaking to Dan, whose messy hair and need for a morning shave now made him look like he belonged on the cover of GQ—now that his eyes were open and his mouth was closed, that is. She held out her hand to him, and the gold bracelet she wore on her slender wrist sparked in the fluorescent light. “Sheila Anderson. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece, sir.”

Ah, of course. It was Marine Private S. Anderson, who’d helped Izzy save Dan’s life. She’d cleaned up pretty damn nice.

But Danny, in his wooziness, still hadn’t put two and two together. He did, however, shake lovely Sheila’s lovely hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, no doubt frantically searching through his vast system of mental files of women he’d banged, and coming up—correctly—empty. “Sheila …?”

“Or maybe I should say, I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece, Oh Great One. It was touch and go there, for a while.”

Dan laughed his relief as dawn broke. “Oh! Right. Yeah. Private, um, Anderson. Out of context, you know? That and, um …” His gaze slid almost involuntarily down to that awesome dress’s extra-awesome neckline, and he forced it back to her face. “The hair.”

Yeah, right.

But she laughed again. “I usually wear it like …” She tipped her head and exposed a very lovely length of smooth, soft neck as she gathered her golden fairy-princess tresses into a severe ponytail. “Does that help?”

Dan nodded. “Yeah, sorry, I, um—”

“No worries,” she said as she let her hair bounce back around her shoulders. “I am a little overdressed for a hospital visit. There was a party last night and … I had too much wine and stayed over with a friend who’s a nurse. I thought I’d pop in to say hi, as long as I had the chance.”

Okay, so the magnificence they were seeing was actually morning-after-Sheila, and yes, on closer examination, Izzy could see that her mascara was slightly smudged. But only slightly. And he knew that Dan and Jenk were thinking the same thing he was. If this was what Sheila looked like after an evening of too much wine … It was hard not to imagine what she’d look like during a very private party, one held in bed, sans that dress.

Of course, she chose that exact moment, while Izzy was—despite her not being Eden—imagining her naked, to turn to him and say, “Nice to see you again, too. Zanella, right? I’m glad you’re okay.”

And oh, shit. Private Anderson had no clue that she was on the verge of revealing a state secret.

Izzy nodded, uncertain of what to say, but she was already on to Jenk.

“How’s your wrist?” she asked.

But Jenk didn’t get a chance to answer her, because someone else had come to the curtain.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Dan Gillman.”

This time the voice was that of a heavy smoker, his baritone gravelly and rough, with a hint of N’Orleans. He was older and Army—a master sergeant—in BDUs that were faded yet neat and sharply creased, his boots polished to a high gleam.

His dark hair was graying at the temples and his face …

It was like looking into a wormhole and seeing a version of Danny from the future.

If, that is, Danny quit the SEAL teams, joined the U.S. Army, smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and drank himself into an alcohol-induced stupor every night for twenty-five years.

Beside him in the bed, Dan looked as if his tension level had ratcheted to DEFCON two. Izzy was on a similar edge. This was also Eden’s father. Which made this guy Izzy’s father-in-law.

“You found him,” Sheila said brightly, failing to pick up on Dan’s discomfort. Her tone, unfortunately, held a come on in subtext. “Wow, you’ve got to be his father. Genetics in action …”

Izzy stood up as Dan Gillman the elder came into the little curtained-off area, as father and son were face-to-face for the first time in God knows how long.

He didn’t know all of the details of the Gillman family history—only bits and pieces. Such as Dan senior had left his wife Ivette for good after Dan junior—aged eleven or twelve—had threatened to kill him. Or maybe the threats were the result of Danny finding out that his father was leaving and not coming back. Izzy wasn’t sure of the exact chronology.

But he suspected domestic violence of some sort had been involved, and he knew that Danny still hated his father with a passion. It had been a point of contention between Dan and his sister Eden, who’d gone to live with the man when she’d turned eighteen.

The older Gillman now smelled as if he’d stopped at the nearest bar and consumed a serious amount of liquid courage before coming here.

He was playing it upbeat and friendly, though. “Hey, son, how’re you feeling?” he asked, but didn’t give Danny time to answer. “I spoke to the captain. He’s an excellent doctor—a good man. I’ve known him for years. He says you’re going to keep the leg. I was glad to hear that.” He turned to Sheila. “And you must be Danny’s girlfriend, come all the way from New York. Aren’t you a pretty little thing. I swear, this boy has the sweetest tooth when it comes to women. He must’ve gotten it from his father.”

And yes. There was Jenn, back from the mess hall with her coffee in hand, stopped short by the master sergeant’s words, just outside of that curtain. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked over at Sheila, as the blonde laughed her musical laugh.

Oh, shit. Izzy stood up, uncertain of what to do.

Sheila was too busy flirting with Dan Gillman the elder, to notice Jenn standing there. Or maybe she was flirting with the younger Gillman, because she sent Danny a loaded little smile, too. “Don’t I wish, but … No, I’m not. We’re just … good friends. I’m a marine. We were stationed at the same base for a while. I was there when the sniper opened fire and I helped get Dan airlifted out.”

Dan was too busy trying to incinerate his father with his eyes to notice either Sheila’s suggestive pauses and smiles or Jenn.

“Well, doesn’t that give a whole new meaning to send in the Marines,” Dan’s father said, but then he sobered. Figuratively. And took the opportunity to take Sheila’s lovely hand. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

Sheila turned to Izzy. “It was actually Zanella who did the actual lifesaving, by sharing his blood,” she said, spilling that very big secret, even as Danny talked over her.

“Oh, please.” He spoke to his father—apparently he couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You have some nerve, coming in here and—” But then he turned to Sheila. “What did you say?”

“No, that was Jenk,” Izzy corrected her, trying to signal her with his eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Yeah, that was, um, me,” Jenk agreed.

Sheila laughed. “I was there. It was totally Zanella.” But then she noticed the shock on Dan’s face and the now-awkward silence in the room. She finally looked back at Izzy and then over to Jenk. “Was that … something I shouldn’t have said?”

“It was you?” Dan asked Izzy. “What the hell … ? Did you actually think I would have a problem with that?” He turned and saw Jenn and included her in his disbelief. “What am I, a f*cking child?”

“You watch your mouth in front of a lady,” his father admonished, his focus still on Sheila.

Dan looked at the man. “You’re f*cking kidding me, right?”

The elder Dan bristled and even took a menacing step toward his son, and both Izzy and Jenk moved to intercept. Jenn, too, came farther into the room.

“Danny,” she said, but Dan didn’t hear her.

He was furious, and happy to take it out on his father, pushing himself so that he was sitting up. “Yeah, that’s way more familiar, Dad. Go on and backhand a man in a hospital bed, that’s just your speed. And since I’m not twelve anymore, it’s the only way you’ll come even remotely close to achieving contact.” But then he turned to Izzy. “What the hell, Zanella?” he said again. “Did you seriously think I’d have some kind of sixth-grade problem with—”

“I didn’t have a vote,” Izzy protested. “I was kind of unconscious when the decision was made.” But Jenn spoke over him, and he was happy to yield the floor to her.

“Okay,” she said loudly. “This is definitely counterproductive. Danny, don’t you dare get out of that bed. Your father is leaving.” She motioned to Gillman the elder. “Come on, Master Sergeant. If you spoke to the doctor, then you know that what Dan needs right now is rest, not stress.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, I didn’t mean to …” Dan’s father had already begun to retreat, but then he stopped. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, stiffly, politely, “but I was hoping to get a chance to meet Dan’s girlfriend. I was wondering if you could—”

He cut himself off, no doubt because he’d finally taken the time to focus on Jenn and he saw that she wasn’t in uniform.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, I thought you were the nurse. Are you …?” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his incredulity from his voice or his face.

“Oh, good,” Danny growled. “Insult my girlfriend.”

“I didn’t mean—” Dan senior started, even as Jenn quietly said, “Danny, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not all right,” Danny said. “What does he think, he can just walk in here and pretend he gives a shit, and then turn around and look at you like that?” He turned to his father. “You met my girlfriend, now go.”

“Call your family,” Dan senior ground out. “They’re worried about you.”

“Danny,” Jenn was saying, over his father’s words, “please sit back. They’re not going to let you go home if you …”

Izzy didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, because he’d already nodded at Jenk, silently asking him to assist in clearing the room, even as he took Master Sergeant Gillman by the arm and led him out into the hallway and over to the elevators.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Izzy said even as Gillman muttered, “Jesus, I f*cked that up. What is wrong with me?”

“Besides twenty-five years of being an alcoholic?” Izzy asked. “Or … now I’m thinking you probably meant that as more of a rhetorical question, so I’ll just stick to what I know.” He held out his hand. “I’m Irving Zanella, petty officer first class, U.S. Navy SEALs. I’m a teammate of Dan’s. I’m also your daughter Eden’s husband. Dad.”

“You’re the a*shole who knocked her up?”

“No,” Izzy said, taking several hasty steps back, because it sure looked as if Dan-the-senior was going to follow the time-honored Gillman tradition of punching Izzy’s face before getting the whole story. “I’m the guy who married her when she needed help, because some other guy knocked her up. Which makes me more of a loser than an a*shole. At least according to, um, my definition …”

His father-in-law was looking at him like he was shit on a stick, so Izzy took a deep breath and asked the question he’d vowed he wouldn’t ask ever again. “Have you heard from her lately? Eden? Is she doing okay?”


Dan was silent as Jenkins escorted Private S. Anderson and her little black dress out of his part of this hospital room, as Jenn pulled the curtain all the way over to the wall, giving them at least the illusion of privacy.

“For the record,” she said as she sat in the chair down by the end of his bed instead of the one within arm’s reach, which made his heart sink, “it was Jay Lopez’s idea—to tell you that the blood was Jenk’s.”

“Lopez,” Dan repeated.

“He was sure you were going to lose your leg, Danny, and he thought if you had any chance at all, it would be hindered, not helped, by the idea that you’d received such a huge transfusion from Izzy. Who, by the way, was the only one whose faith in you never wavered.” She paused. “Besides me.”

“It’s sobering,” he said quietly. “To see myself through that lens. I mean, it’s crazy to think that Lopez was right, but … Lopez was probably right. F*ckin’ Zanella. He makes me …” He laughed his self-disgust. “And then I go and double down on the crazy by being unable to keep from turning back into a twelve-year-old when my father comes to visit.” He shook his head, wishing he could rewind and take a do-over, ashamed not just because she’d witnessed his childish behavior, but also because he hadn’t pushed aside the stupidity and focused on what was important—not allowing his freaking girlfriend to get emotionally stomped by his a*shole father. Forget about Sheila, and what Jenn must’ve thought by seeing her there, dressed up like that. “I’m so sorry, Jenni.”

She gazed back at him, and he knew she absolutely hadn’t forgotten about Sheila—who was she, why had she come to visit him? The questions were in her eyes. But she didn’t ask, and Dan knew she wouldn’t. She was too much of a class act. She would just bury her doubts, but they’d always be back there, eating away at her. He knew that, too.

So he broached the topic. Just flat out. “Private S. Anderson,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce you, but frankly, I didn’t even know her name was Sheila until today. I met her pulling civilians out of a bus, after the car bomb exploded.” He gave her the full story, including the fact that Private Anderson had been a little flirty when they’d first met, including the fact that he hadn’t quite known how to respond, and that, yes, he’d been flattered. He told her that the flirting had stopped, though, when Anderson—he purposely called her by her last name—had been up to her elbows in his blood, applying pressure to his wound as Izzy went to get aid.

Jenn sat and listened and nodded. “Thank God she was there.” And then she said, “I ran into your doctor while I was getting coffee. Your latest blood test came back clear.”

That was great news. Almost as good as the fact that Jenn apparently considered Sheila a nonproblem, not worthy of further discussion.

“They’re willing to think about sending you home,” Jenn continued, “as long as you stick to the no-exertion rule and don’t overdo it.” She smiled ruefully. “I was, like, You do know he’s a SEAL … ? The captain actually laughed—I think we may have finally bonded.”

Jenn’s opinion of the doctor’s humorless bedside manner was pretty low, but he spent most of his days in surgery, performing amputations on soldiers and servicemen and -women who hadn’t been as lucky as Dan.

Lucky—to have a teammate like Zanella. Jesus, Dan still couldn’t wrap his brain around that.

“But he agreed that it would be a good idea to release you, if you had somewhere to stay,” Jenn went on with a caveat, “with someone who made sure you got the rest you need …?” She cleared her throat. “It occurred to me that, well, Mark Jenkins and his wife have a spare room. I know she’s pregnant—Lindsey. But she’s still working, and since Mark’s got a cast on, that first week he’s home might … Well, I thought it would be worth asking them if you could …”

“Oh,” Dan said, then cleared his throat, too. “I thought, I don’t know, I guess I just assumed we’d … go back to New York? Together?”

And yes, he was definitely feeling much, much better, because the hard-on that he’d awakened to find after his nap was back with a vengeance at the mere idea of being alone with Jenn in a place that had solid walls and a door that locked. It had been a long time, but he still knew exactly, precisely what it felt like to be inside of her. And he desperately wanted some of that. ASAP.

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said quietly.

Seriously?

“May I come stay with you in New York?” he asked. “Please say yes, and then go run and get your buddy Captain Chan to release me tonight.”

Jenn’s smile was a little sad. She didn’t speak, didn’t move. She just looked at him.

But she’d come all the way from New York City to sit beside his bed, and Danny knew that he’d won whatever battle they’d been fighting over their relationship. Hell, he’d won the freaking war. He’d scored the telling victory over two weeks ago when he’d opened his eyes to see her standing there. She loved him, too. She could no longer deny it.

And Jesus, he liked winning, despite the fact that the responsibility scared the shit out of him.

He held out his hand for her now, and she came over and took it.

“I need you, Jenn,” he admitted, even though it was harder than hell for him to put voice to those words. Fighting the rush of emotions that threatened to clog his throat, he asked her again, “May I stay with you in New York for a while?”

This time she nodded. “Of course.”


Eden was in Las Vegas, which was the last place on earth Izzy would’ve thought to look for her.

As he input the cell number and address that her father gave him directly into his phone, he was aware of Jenkins hovering at his elbow, the shorter SEAL’s trepidation nearly palpable.

“It’s probably better if you don’t tell her you gave this to me,” Izzy told the senior Gillman as he double-checked his entry for Zanella, Eden, with the info that the man had scribbled on a piece of cocktail napkin, no doubt when his daughter had called him.

“Just pass it along to Dan and tell him to call her,” the older Dan said as he got into an elevator going down to the lobby. To the lobby and then out into the parking lot, into his car and off the base, over to town, to the nearest bar … Did any of them really have any serious doubt about his destination? “And I’ll have done far more than I promised her I’d do.”

The elevator doors closed behind him and Izzy waited a few seconds before pressing the down button himself.

“Zanella,” Jenk said. They’d been friends a long time—ever since Izzy saved his life. Gee, maybe Jenkins and Gillman should start a club. Lopez could join, too, along with Tony V., after that incident in Thailand. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“Good,” Izzy said. “Don’t.”

“But I do think you need to slow down. Take a deep breath—”

“How is that not telling me what to do?” Izzy asked.

“Just stop and think,” Jenk said as the elevator door opened again with a ding. “At least figure out what you’re going to say before you get there.”

“I’ll do that,” Izzy said. “On the plane.” He handed the scrap of paper to Jenk and got into the elevator. “Give that to Dan. Make sure he calls to tell Eden he’s all right.”

“Iz,” Jenk said plaintively as the doors slid closed.

Izzy stopped them with his hand and they sprang open again. “I just want to see her,” he told his friend. “You know, talk to her? In person? I know she’s done with me and I’m … I’m done with her, too.”

“You’re not acting like it, bro,” Jenk said.

“I know,” Izzy said. “But I’m just going to keep saying that to myself and … maybe by the time I get there, it’ll be true, and I can, I don’t know, have some kind of closure.”

The elevator starting ringing—he’d held the door open for too long.

“You want me to come with you?” Jenk asked, even though he must’ve said forty times in the past five hours just how psyched he was to get back home to see his adorable pregnant wife. “Let me come with you.”

“Thanks,” Izzy said as he let the doors close. “But no.”

“Call if you need me,” was the last thing he heard before the elevator took him down.


LAS VEGAS

TUESDAY, MAY 5, 2009

Eden’s cell phone finally rang in the early hours of the morning, long after Ben had fallen asleep in her bedroom, exhausted by the medically and emotionally taxing day.

It wasn’t her father, but it was someone else, calling from Germany. She recognized the country code. She closed her eyes and said a brief prayer before flipping it open.

“Hello?”

“Eden. It’s Dan.”

It was her brother’s voice. It was her brother calling. “Oh, dear Lord,” she said. “Oh, thank you, thank you for calling me. Thank God you’re all right.” But then she realized that just because he was able to dial a phone, that didn’t mean he wasn’t horribly maimed. “There was this letter saying that you were wounded, and Ben and I were so scared and … Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he told her. “I’m getting out of the hospital tomorrow morning and … Sorry if I frightened you. Is Ivette there?”

Like Eden and Ben, Danny, too, called their mother by her first name.

“I’m not … I don’t live with her,” Eden told him. “In fact, she and Greg don’t even know I’m back in town. I came because Ben …” And the relief that filled her over the news that Dan was okay triggered some kind of release, and it all came out of her, in one giant rush, even as she lowered her voice to keep from waking Ben. “Oh, Danny, he said he kicked Greg’s ass yesterday, but you should see the bruises he got. He was trying to hide them, but he changed his shirt and … That man is a monster and a freak, and Ben says he’s not going back, and I’m not going to make him, how could I? Especially when they keep saying they’re going to send him to one of those reparative therapy camps? They have him scheduled to go to this awful place in June, but what if Greg sends him someplace earlier after this? I’m trying to earn enough money to hire a lawyer so I can get custody of him, but I’m afraid if I break the law it’s going to make things worse—” She broke off, realizing that this was the last thing he needed. He was still in the hospital, and she was dumping all of this on him like a little whining girl. “I’m sorry. It’s just … This is harder than I thought.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“But I’m handling it,” Eden said, forcing back her tears. She would not cry. She would not cry.

There was more silence, but then Dan sighed. “Shit,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Eden said again. She took a deep breath. “The truth is, I could use a little help—well, okay, a lot of help—but before you say no, I’m not asking you to come all the way out here to save us. That’s not what this is about. In fact, I’ll come to you so we can talk. Ben and I’ll take the bus to San Diego—”

“I’m not going to San Diego,” he told her. “After I’m released I’m going to New York City for at least a week.”

It was Eden’s turn to be silent.

“How come Ben didn’t e-mail me?” Dan asked, and it was kind of nice, because he was asking the question in a regular voice, as if they were having a normal conversation between a brother and a sister. It wasn’t some kind of dysfunctional shouting match, the way it usually was when they spoke.

“He did. A few weeks ago,” she answered him, in the same conversational tone. “We figured you were, you know. Out there. Busy.” She forced a laugh. “Which apparently you were. Getting yourself injured. I am sorry about that …”

More silence. And then he said, “I didn’t know it was that bad with Ben. I knew it was getting to that point, but I didn’t think … I thought I’d have more time.”

“Me, too,” Eden said. “But … I can’t let him go back there. To have to live in that house with Greg? Really, Danny. And I’ve been reading about those ex-gay camps …”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “I know. I have, too.”

And hope sparked. So Eden groveled. “I would never ask you this if it was just about me,” she said quietly. “I hope you know that. I know I’ve used up all your patience and … Financially, I’ve … Pushed you too far. I know that. And I’m okay. I’m working. I have a job. I’m doing better than okay. I’m making enough to support Ben, too—and to pay you back everything that I’ve ever borrowed from you, but … You know that Ivette will never let Ben live with me. Not unless”—she closed her eyes and just said it—“you said you lived with us, too. In San Diego. Of course.”

Danny was their mother’s pride and joy. Captain Perfect. The offspring who could do no wrong. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he still sent a huge chunk of his pay home every month.

He was silent again on the end of the line, all the way across both the continent and the Atlantic Ocean, where it was much later in the day than it was here.

But whatever time it was in Germany, Eden could hear him breathing.

“Look,” he finally said. “I’m going to have to call you back. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Eden said, then quickly added, “Dan, wait …” before he could hang up.

“I’m still here.”

“Thank you,” she told her brother. “Even for just thinking about doing this for us. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff before he hung up.


LANDSTUHL, GERMANY

TUESDAY, MAY 5, 2009

“Shit,” Dan said again after hanging up the phone.

“Trouble?” Jenn asked, and he nodded, glancing up only briefly to meet her eyes, before looking down again at the cell phone he held in his hands.

Something was cooking in that big brain of his—something that was making the muscles jump in the side of his jaw and his elegant lips set in a tight line.

“Is Ben okay?” she asked, and this time when Danny looked up at her, there was a flash of what seemed to be annoyance or even anger in his eyes.

Which was, in part, what made his next words so surprising.

“Marry me,” he said.

Jenn laughed, but then stopped, because it was clear that he wasn’t making some kind of crazy joke. He was serious.

Her breath caught and both her throat and chest were suddenly tight as tears stung her eyes—but not in a good way. Not in an Oh my God, I can’t believe this, I’m so happy I could cry way.

“Danny,” she said quietly. “That’s not the solution.”

“But it is,” he told her, and he actually meant it. His conviction was impressive. “Of all the places in the world where Ben could live, where he would thrive and be happy, New York City’s got to be in the top three. And yeah, I know it wouldn’t be the easiest thing. Instantly having a teenage kid to deal with. I know it’s asking a lot. Plus, it’s expensive to live there, I get that—”

“Whoa,” Jenn said. “Wait. What? You want Ben to live with me, in New York City …?”

His brown eyes were dead serious. “With us,” he corrected her.

“Except you’d be stationed in …” Where were the SEALs stationed on the East Coast? Virginia, wasn’t it? “Little Creek?”

Danny was shaking his head. “No—hell, no! Wow, I’d never ask you to … Jenni, I’m talking about leaving the teams. It’s coming up on that time again, but I just won’t re-up.”

She was stunned. “Oh, my God.”

“You really thought … Jesus, I wouldn’t ask you to do that, any more than I’d ask you to move to San Diego. You work in New York. You have a life there.”

“What about your life?” she asked.

He looked away from her so that she wouldn’t be able to see that he was lying. “I’m ready for a change.”

Jenn just sat there, gazing at him, until he looked up.

“I knew this was coming,” he insisted. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Even before I met you.” He winced. “And I didn’t mean it the way it sounded—like I was thinking of the best way to handle this, so I was looking for someone to marry, to help me take care of Ben. Believe me, if I was looking for easy solutions, I’d’ve found someone who lived in San Diego.”

“I think you’re wonderful,” she told him, “to want to do this for Ben, but there’s got to be another way. What about your sister?” Not Eden, the other one. The older one. What was her name? “Sandy.”

“She’s a nightmare,” Dan told her. “I can’t count on her for anything.”

“Your older brothers …?” He told her, in one of his many e-mails, that Ivette was his father’s second wife, that he’d had two sons from a previous marriage—John and Christopher. Dan had spent the occasional weekend with them when he was growing up—they’d taught him to hunt and fish. But they’d also dropped off the map when his father and Ivette divorced. He hadn’t seen either of them in years. “Maybe this would be a good time to get back in touch.”

But Dan shook his head. “They hated us. They blamed Ivette for wrecking their family. I didn’t get it when I was a kid, but now …? I do. And since Ben’s not even related to them …”

“Okay. Eden, then. It sounded like Eden had some kind of a plan.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “She wants us to get an apartment together in San Diego—her, Ben, and me.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t live with her. I couldn’t.”

“But you could stay in the Navy, if you did that,” Jenn pointed out. She leaned forward. “Ben’s what? Fifteen?”

Dan nodded.

“It’s only three years until he’s eighteen, and then your life’s your own again,” she told him. “Three years isn’t that long a time—especially considering you’ll be away for a large portion of it.”

“So … Is that a no to marrying me?”

Jenn smiled at him through that tightness that just wouldn’t leave her chest. “It’s a no to being a part of your not-particularly-well-thought-out-but-very-gallant sacrifice. I mean, even if you had to leave the Navy, you and Ben could come to New York. You don’t have to marry me to do that.”

“I guess I was thinking, you know, if there’s a custody fight …?”

“From everything you told me, your mother adores you,” Jenn said. “She’s going to let Ben live with you. It’s hard to believe she won’t.”

“She does what Greg tells her to,” Dan said. “He might start a custody battle as a way to hit me up for more money.”

Jenn stood up. “I’m going to call Maria.” Her boss and best friend, a New York State assemblywoman, was also a lawyer. “See what she thinks.”

She started to dig in her purse for her cell phone, when Dan reached out and caught her by the belt loop on her jeans. He pulled her in and down so that she was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I didn’t mean to come on too strong,” he told her. “I just thought—”

“That you didn’t have options,” Jenn finished for him. “But you do.

We’ll talk to Maria.”

But she could see both doubt and trepidation in Danny’s eyes, even as he tried to smile. “I could do three years,” he said. “For Ben’s sake. Provided you promise to spend every vacation with me—and invited me to crash at your place in New York anytime Eden drives me crazy. And provided you’re right and I don’t have to be married to get custody.”

She kissed him. “I’ll do better than that,” she said. “If I’m wrong about the custody thing, and it comes down to it? I’ll marry you. Because I could also do three years. And I could do it in San Diego, too.”

“I’d never ask you to do that,” he said again.

“I know,” Jenn told him, pushing his hair back from his face. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t offer.” She kissed him again, then reached for her phone. “Let me call Maria. Because I also need to tell her that I’m taking that extra week off.” Maria had told her to take as long as she needed, and Jenn definitely needed.

Because she and Dan were going to Vegas.


LAS VEGAS

TUESDAY, MAY 5, 2009

Neesha veered sharply left, into a clothing store where music played much too loudly, whether it was morning or evening. She went all the way to the rear of the store before she dared to glance back, out at the food court and …

The two men leaning against the wall hadn’t moved. They weren’t looking over here. Their body language hadn’t changed at all.

One was keeping an eye on the tables, the other was looking down at his cell phone.

They were standing in the very spot—more dimly lit than the rest of the mall—next to the barbecue counter, where she usually stopped and pretended to fix her shoe because from that vantage point, she could quickly scan the entire food court and make sure she saw no familiar faces—of Mr. Nelson or Todd or another of his goons—in the crowd.

She moved closer to the store’s entrance, wishing she had the confidence to pretend she was shopping—to grab some of the shiny hangers that held pretty, brightly colored clothing, and carry them around to the front of the store as she checked every single rack.

But she was terrified of being accused of stealing—shoplifting, it was called. And even though the store was filled with girls who were even younger than she was, they each had a mother with them, and the clerks didn’t look at them askance.

Still, the two men who were searching for someone—that much was clear—didn’t so much as glance in her direction, so she shifted closer, hoping for a better look at their faces.

Not that she knew each and every one of Mr. Nelson’s guards, but she did know quite a few.

Neesha moved behind a rack of dresses just to the left of the entrance and peeked out.

No, she didn’t think she knew them. They were both tall and broad—both with faces that were called white, even though they weren’t really. The one with the cell phone was bald, with a beard that decorated only part of his chin.

The other man wore a hat covering his hair despite the day’s heat, and sunglasses hiding his eyes despite the fact that the sun was long gone. It was hard to see his face, but he had a tattoo that came up out of his shirt collar, on his neck and even up onto part of his cheek.

She’d seen a lot of tattoos, and would have remembered seeing that one before.

Maybe they weren’t looking for her.

Still, she stayed where she was, watching them, even though her stomach rumbled with hunger, even though one of the suspicious clerks positioned herself nearby and folded shirts with barely concealed hostility.

And then it happened. The man with the sunglasses nudged the bald man with his elbow, and gestured across the food court with his chin.

The bald man pocketed his phone and led the way toward …

Ben.

At first glance, the boy looked a lot like him—tall and thin with dark hair and a pale face, black shirt, and jeans.

But it wasn’t Ben. This boy walked awkwardly, clumsily. Ben flowed when he moved. He had a grace to him that reminded Neesha of one of the dancers she’d watched on TV.

This boy also was part of a pack. He was with four other boys, although they all backed away when they realized the bald man and the sunglasses-wearer were heading directly toward him.

“You,” the bald man said as he pointed at the boy who looked like Ben, his voice carrying, even across the still-crowded food court. “Don’t move. Las Vegas police. We have some questions we want to ask you.”

Police? Could they really be police? Neesha watched, and sure enough, they both flashed what could have been badges, like the cops did on NYPD Blue.

She couldn’t hear any of the questions, all she could see was the boy’s fear as the bald man took him by the arm and pulled him ever farther from his friends, but closer to her. He kept shaking his head. No. Over and over again. Rapidly. Vehemently. No.

And then both men looked up, and Neesha saw, too—it was the security guard who’d approached her and Ben while he was being hassled by that teen pack, outside of the coffee shop. He was coming toward them now, and she could hear his words as he spoke. He had that kind of voice. Higher-pitched and easy to hear over the din of other conversations.

“That’s not him.”

The bald man let go of the boy, said something Neesha couldn’t hear, and the boy ran off.

“Don’t run in the mall,” the man in the guard uniform called after him, but the boy ignored him. In fact all five boys disappeared very quickly, heading for the main entrance. He laughed. “I guess you scared him.”

And now the bald man and the sunglasses man shook hands with the guard—as if they were introducing themselves. As if they hadn’t met before this.

In fact, Neesha heard the guard say, “Nice to meet you, Nathan. Jake.”

And the bald man—Jake—drew something from his jacket pocket. It was a piece of paper that he opened like a birthday card. He showed whatever was inside of it to the guard, who was nodding. Yes.

And his voice again carried to Neesha.

“That’s definitely the girl I saw here yesterday.”