Page 138 of Jonas

“It was a long time ago, honey. And he never touched me or anything like that. He had wandering eyes and would offer me to stay with him in his room, since mine didn’t have a window shaker and there was no AC. Obviously, I never took him up on his gross offer. And I was only there three months. Once I turned eighteen and could sign a lease and had money, I got an apartment.

“I also figured out I didn’t want to be a paralegal. Not because it wasn’t a good job, but after I met the firm’s investigator, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. Actually, it was a husband-and-wife team. I met the wife first. We started talking one day and she quickly deduced I was lost and alone and asked me to lunch. She told me about her job, and encouraged me to stay on my path to become a paralegal, but it was too late. I wanted to be her.

“It took me a whole year and graduating with my associate’s for Eden to agree to hire me as their office manager. While I ran the office, she and her husband, Joel, started teaching me what they did. Another year working with them and they started giving cases—easy ones like cheating spouses. But I learned how to blend in without being caught, I learned how to bribe and talk my way into places. Later, they gave me corporate cases and started sending me in undercover. That first job was an education. It’s one thing to follow someone and not get caught, it’s another to take on a whole new persona and sell it.

“I’d worked with them a little over eight years when they told me I was ready to be on my own, and they handed me their business and moved to Guam to retire. I rarely hear from them, not because they’re not the closest thing to family I have, but because they’re always off-grid on some adventure. They love life and live it fully.”

“They taught you well, baby.”

“Thanks. Where’d you go after you left home at fifteen?” I asked him.

“My dad’s parents. They were older; it was a burden taking me in but they did. They were good people who’d raised a good son, and I was in desperate need of some good in my life. Still, I knew I couldn’t stay with them longer than I had to. When I was eighteen, I joined the Navy. The military provided three hots and a cot and direction. I needed all three. Turns out I was good at it, following orders, being part of a team, doing something that made me feel like I was doing something worthwhile.

“It took me two years to get a spot to go to BUD/s. I was totally unprepared. Had no fucking clue what tough really was. I was so close to ringing out. So fucking close that to this day, if I think about it, I can still taste the defeat I felt. None of the instructors in BUD/s are your friends. Their entire existence is to make your life a living hell, to beat you down, mentally break you. And damn if I wasn’t beaten the hell down. But there was this one guy, total prick, the hardest out of all of the instructors. I hated the dude. When I closed my eyes I had dreams of punching him in the face.

“But he knew I was on the edge and was going to quit. One day after a run, I was bent double, sucking in air like it was the last breath I’d ever get, wondering how I was going to live my life knowing I was quitter. He walks over to me, kicks fucking sand at my shins, and tells me he’ll take me out for pizza and beer if I go ring the bell. I kept sucking in air, and this asshole continues to taunt me with the most ridiculous shit, calling me a pussy, telling me I won’t make it past hell week, I’m gonna drown, just keeps going. Finally, I couldn’t take any more and stood up ready to beat the hell out of this guy, and as soon as he caught my eye, he leaned in close and said, ‘That’s the fire you need to get through the next six months, boy. You lose it again you won’t have to ring out, I’ll boot your ass.’ Then he gave me what might still be the single best piece of life advice. Life’s a numbers game. One second to one minute to one hour. Even a weak-ass punk can survive an hour in the shit. Then you start your clock over. The three minutes he gave me with his shitty pep talk spared me from a lifetime of regret.”

“That was cool of him to talk to you.”

“It was. He’s the same man who recruited me to the Special Activities Division—well, now they call themselves Special Activities Center. I guess the acronym SAD wasn’t the best look for a group of door kickers at the CIA.”

“You were with Ground Branch when you went undercover, right?”

“Yep. Me, Easton, Cash, Smith, and Garrett. Shit went bad on a mission, Garrett left, then when we went under as Patheon, Theo joined.”

I loved that he had such a tight bond with his teammates.

“It’s good you have your brothers.”

Jonas went quiet. I gave him time, but when he didn’t speak, I guessed, “You’re worried about Cash.”

“We all are. We’ve been waiting for an in, but he’s not giving us one, so it’s almost time we force a conversation that we all know isn’t going to end well, mostly because Cash is the master of disguise and he will not be happy when we call him on his shit.”

“Sometimes tough love is in order.”

“Yeah, baby.”

His fingers on my hip started making slow circles. An intimate, sweet touch I liked a whole lot. So much so, I wanted to take us out of the heavy.

But first, I had to get Jonas to agree.

I untangled my legs from his, he immediately complied but looked down at me. I ignored the question I could read in the dim light coming from the hall. I threw my leg over his thighs and rolled on top of him.

“Dee Dee⁠—”

“Did I say thank you for saving me today?”

“Baby,” he groaned.

“I can’t remember if I did. But I remember the relief I felt seeing your boots. I remember feeling safe once you were there. I remember feeling grateful I wasn’t taken from this life so soon after finding you.”

“Derrika,” he whispered.

I planted my palms on his chest and brushed my lips over his. “Make love to me, honey.”

“You’re—”

“Yours. I’m yours, Jonas. You won’t hurt me. Please, honey, make love to me.”