Chapter 21

Kate pressed the doorbell, then stood back and waited. It was a big house—it could take a while to get to the front door. Anyway, she didn’t mind the extra few seconds to compose herself.

They’d exchanged plenty of texts in the couple of days since Saturday, but it was clear something had changed between them. In some ways she felt like they were back to the beginning, dancing around each other, cautiously sidestepping whenever the conversation became too personal.

At first she worried that Oz’s detached politeness would open the door for that old, insecure version of herself to creep back into her thoughts. It didn’t, though, and no matter what happened tonight, or tomorrow, or five years down the line, she was confident that timid, self-conscious Kate was gone forever. Even if Oz dumped her as soon as she stepped inside, she’d always know that a man like him had almost loved her once, and that she’d deserved every second of his affection.

She heard beeps on the other side of the wall as he disarmed the alarm, then the door opened and he stood framed in the light of the entryway.

He smiled, and it was so exquisite she almost burst into tears.

Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her and held her firmly. She closed her eyes against his sternum and breathed deeply, losing herself in his scent, his warmth. She linked her hands at the small of his back and clung to his narrow waist.

For several minutes they simply stood in silence, their bodies pressed together. Kate luxuriated in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his cotton T-shirt stretched across hard muscle and harder bone, the slow thud of his athlete’s heart.

If she had to pick a moment to stay in forever, she decided it would be this one. Life couldn’t be better.

Until he put his finger under her chin, tipped her face to his and kissed her.

I love him. Awareness washed over her with the unstoppable, breath-stealing force of an ocean wave. Strip away all the external stuff, his career and her past and his money and her future, and the truth was bright and clear. She loved him. Oz the man. Oz the lover. Oz the best friend. She didn’t care about any of the rest of it, the fame or the house or the car. She wanted him and him alone, more than she’d ever wanted anything.

But not caring about the material things didn’t make them go away. Nor did wanting to be with him mean doing so wouldn’t come with a price.

Reality settled heavily in the pit of her stomach as she leaned out of his embrace.

“We should shut the door. We’re letting bugs in,” she told him, trying to force lightheartedness into her tone.

He closed and locked the door after she preceded him inside. Then he reset the alarm, including the motion-sensing beams that ran across each side of the house.

The heat she’d absorbed from his skin dissipated as she followed him through the ground floor. Their physical separation brought back the emotional distance between them, and grim expectation tightened the space between her eyes. This wasn’t going to be a fun, flippant, sexy reunion. Something still undefined was pulling them apart, and they had to talk about it before they lost all sight of each other.

“Are you hungry?” He started opening cabinets in the kitchen. She took a seat on one of the stools at the island.

“Not really. I had a late lunch.”

“Same here. My stomach’s still on Swedish time.” He set a tub of hummus and a box of whole-wheat crackers on the island and took a seat across from hers.

“How’s the jetlag?”

“The flight last night was delayed, which didn’t help, but I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. How was the interview?” he asked, referring to the early-morning meeting she used to justify not seeing him when he arrived in Atlanta the night before.

“I think they’ll make me an offer. The money’s nowhere near what I was making at Peak Tactical, but it’s a steady paycheck every month. No sales targets.”

“Remind me what this one was for?”

“Another private-security company, but in dispatch.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure it really maximizes my skill set, but then I’m not totally clear on what my skill set is.”

“What about companies that advise businesses on security for their overseas operations? Like oil companies, mining companies, anyone sending employees somewhere unsafe. You’d be great at that.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she agreed. “I’ll look into it.”

He looked down at the island’s surface. She braced herself.

“Speaking of career changes.” He trailed his index finger along the grain in the granite. “I had a meeting in Stockholm. One of the clubs in Spain put an offer on the table. They want to buy me out of my contract with Atlanta in the winter transfer window. I’d start playing for them in January.”

He dragged his eyes up to hers and she simply stared. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this.

“Wow,” she managed finally. “Is it a good offer?”

“Yes and no. The money is better, and the club is prestigious.”

He paused. She prompted, “But?”

“But I’m pretty sure they want me as a backup, not a starter. They have one of the best left-backs in the world and he’s not much older than me. Unless he got a serious injury, I’d probably only play a handful of times each season.”

“And if he did get injured?”

“I’d start against some of the best teams in Europe, for one of the game’s most legendary managers.”

She exhaled. “Big decision.”

He nodded.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. I have time to think about it.” He cleared his throat. “How would you feel about going with me?”

Shock swelled into disbelief, blacking out her thoughts like drawing a curtain over a window. “What?”

“I’m not asking for a decision tonight, obviously, but I thought I’d put it on the table.”

“That’s a big step, Oz.”

“More like a leap between two buildings. I know.” He shot her a feeble smile. “I’ve given this a lot of thought—it was a long flight. It would be easy to say let’s just wait and see, that I wouldn’t leave before Christmas anyway so we might as well give it until then to decide. And if you need that much time, fine. But I don’t like ambiguity, so I’m putting this out there. If I go, I want you to come with me.”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been shaking her head when she finally realized she was doing it. “This is insane. I came here thinking you were about to break up with me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t go to Stockholm. And then Emily—”

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers, warm and reassuring. “That’s exactly why I’m saying this to you now. This probably sounds strange, but when you chose your family over me, and once I got over myself about it, I respected you more. Speaking to Emily confirmed what I already knew, that you’re loyal and know the importance of family.”

“That’s also why it would be hard for me to move thousands of miles away from them. I’ve been so far away for so many years, and I’m only just getting settled back into their lives.” She took a steeling breath. “This is what I wanted to tell you on Saturday night and didn’t get the chance. I’m at a point in my life where I need to make my own decisions. Be independent. Do what I want, not what I’m told.”

His expression faltered slightly, and she could sense him fighting not to shut down. “I’m not telling. I’m asking.”

She balked, unsure how to answer, and then the piercing shriek of the alarm cut through the quiet house, sending her heart into her throat and her pulse into overdrive. Oz stared at her, wide-eyed, and she snapped into business mode.

“Your phone,” she commanded. She jumped from the stool and armed herself with a knife from the block on the counter as he pulled his phone from his pocket to check the system-monitoring app she told him to install.

“Front beam,” he called over the clanging alarm.

“Stay here,” she instructed, but inevitably he followed her across the house to the front door. She peered out the windows on either side of the frame but couldn’t see much.

“Maybe it’s just a—”

The alarm automatically shut off at the end of its sixty-second cycle, plunging the house into sudden silence.

“Cat,” Oz offered.

“Where’s the patrol car? They should be here by now. And dispatch hasn’t called you?”

His expression turned sheepish. “I may have had some strong words for Roland about Peak Tactical after they fired you. They lost the Skyline contract the same day. He’s still going through the bids from new providers.”

“So no one’s coming.”

He shook his head.

She swore under her breath and reached around him to disable the alarm so it wouldn’t go off again when she opened the front door. Then she eased the door open and stepped outside, every one of her senses on high alert.

She’d barely made it to the edge of the front porch when she saw a shadow disappear around the side of the house.

“Call 9-1-1,” she told Oz, adjusting her grip on the knife. Oz’s face broadcast his oncoming protest and she shook her head firmly, hissing, “Just do it.”

She heard him murmur into his phone as she slunk along the wall of the house, summoning years of military training. She breathed slowly, stilling the frantic beating of her heart, and focused her awareness on what seemed out of the ordinary.

The beams were set high enough not to be triggered by animals, and the shadow she saw was distinctly human. Someone was on the property who shouldn’t be, and so help her, she was going to stop them from getting any closer.

She slipped around the corner of the house, freezing as she caught sight of a man hunched over and rummaging in a sports bag near the back door.

She flexed her fingers on the knife handle, shoved aside her fear and shouted, “Hands out of the bag and up where I can see them.”

The man looked up in surprise, and although the hood of his sweatshirt was tightened around his face she recognized Wayne Seibert, the Citizens First leader who’d thrown road flares on the pitch.

“You son of a bitch,” she seethed, self-control buckling under the weight of white-hot fury.

She lunged for him. He dropped the bag and jerked out of her reach. In the second it took her to regain her balance he sprinted past her. She pivoted, the knife slipping from her hand as she chased him around the corner of the house, sprinting as fast as she could.

She rounded the edge of the garage just in time to see Oz step out from the wall and into Wayne’s path. They collided hard, chest to chest, then in a single motion Oz used his foot to destabilize the bigger man’s ankles and pushed him over. Wayne landed on his back, the sound of the air leaving his lungs testament to the power of Oz’s shove.

Kate leapt on the downed man, pinning his arms with her knees. He stared at her defiantly and she realized he was younger than she thought—young enough not to be the product of a hateful time, to have been raised in an America where diversity was embraced, celebrated, taught in school.

Young enough to know better.

His hood had slipped off, revealing reddish-brown hair that didn’t yet have any of the gray in his beard. He wasn’t bad-looking. Certainly wasn’t a guy you’d glance at twice if you saw him loitering on the sidewalk. The hate hadn’t marred his face, not yet anyway, and for an instant she almost felt sorry for him. Maybe something terrible happened to make him like this. Maybe he still had time to change.

Then his mouth twisted. “You’re a disgrace to your country, sleeping with this sand-rat terrorist.”

“I served my country for eight years. You’re the disgrace.” She kept her voice level, but her body started to tremble.

“And now you’re fucking the same hajis you were sent out there to kill? You’re right, you’re not a disgrace, you’re a traitor.”

She hit him. Then she hit him again, and again, and again, and when her right hand stung she switched to her left, and then back to her right, bone meeting bone as she barely made out his grunts of pain over the roaring in her ears.

She wasn’t hitting only Wayne. She brought her fist down into the faces of every one of those men in Saudi Arabia, every man she regretted sleeping with, every commanding officer who hadn’t taken her seriously, finally silencing their jeers and lowering their pointed fingers. He was her disappointment. Her dishonor. Her mistakes, her misdirection. Her catastrophic attempt to build her life after the army.

He was her failure, and she hit him as hard as she could.

A firm grip stopped her wrist mid-swing. Oz wrapped his arm around her chest and pulled her to her feet. She dived toward Wayne but Oz held her tightly, both hands locked on her waist.

“He’ll get away,” she protested.

“The police are coming.”

At his words she registered the sound of sirens. Wayne rolled over to his stomach so she couldn’t see the damage she’d done, but if the pain in her hands was any indication, it was bad, and she wasn’t sorry. She’d do it again to protect Oz. She’d do it to anyone, any time, to keep him safe.

After a few seconds Wayne got to his feet and staggered toward the edge of the lawn, where he was met by three patrol cars screeching to a halt. She sagged against Oz as uniformed cops took him into custody. Two others swept the property, and she recovered enough coherence to tell them about the sports bag and the kitchen knife behind the house. The commotion prompted neighbors in several houses to emerge onto their front steps or lean out open windows. It would be only a matter of time before the press showed up, too.

An unmarked car joined the others at the curb and Detective Hegarty stepped out, his expression businesslike. He peered at Wayne, now seated in the back of one of the police cars, and then crossed the lawn to where they stood.

“What happened to Seibert’s face?” he asked by way of greeting.

“I hit him,” Oz said quickly. “I lost my temper, and I hit him.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Oz, you’re a Muslim on a green card. Don’t be an idiot.” She turned to the detective. “I hit him, and if he wants to press charges, we’ll see if he can find a jury in the state of Georgia willing to convict a female combat veteran. Here, take a picture of my knuckles.”

She held out her hands, but before the detective could reply two officers appeared from behind the house. One of them angled the sports bag so they could see its contents.

“Another pig head,” he explained.

“Good. Hopefully there’s something on the bag that can tie it to the previous one, then we can get him on breaking and entering.” He thanked the two officers, then looked between her and Oz.

“I’m sorry to hear Seibert attacked you, Kate,” he said carefully. “But of course I’m glad your military training meant you could adequately act in self-defense.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

“We’ll take your statements, but from appearances this looks clear-cut. And tossing in the bail violation means Seibert will be behind bars until his trial. Citizens First is in total disarray, so with any luck this should be the end of your troubles, Mr. Terim.”

“I hope so,” he said quietly, looking at her with a significance she didn’t understand. She raised her brows in question but Detective Hegarty’s partner arrived. As they split up to give their statements she cast a glance at Oz over her shoulder, but his back was turned, his posture unreadable.

She thought of his assertion the first time they met. I’m a pacifist. She wondered whether this pacifist still wanted to traipse around Europe with a woman who’d just beaten a man’s face to a bloody mess.

This was the end, she concluded sadly as she followed Detective Hegarty around the corner to make her statement. She still had too much baggage from the army, from Saudi Arabia, from everything she’d said and done since the day she left Jasper almost ten years earlier. She couldn’t ask him to help her carry it, and she couldn’t fall into another situation where all the major decisions were made for her.

It was time to stand tall and sort out her life.

It was time to let Oz go.

* * * *

“And the knife?”

“She picked it up in the kitchen as soon as the beams went off. She must’ve dropped it when she caught Seibert behind the house, because I didn’t see it again. She definitely didn’t use it on him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Just making sure the details line up.” The detective scanned the page in his notebook from top to bottom, then flipped it shut. “That’s all I need. Call me if you remember anything else.”

“Will do.” Oz put the detective’s card in his back pocket and showed him out the front door, careful to stay out of sight of the photographers huddled at the curb. Kate was still with Detective Hegarty in the backyard so he moved into the kitchen, put the untouched hummus and crackers away, and took a seat at the island.

It had been only half an hour since the beams went off but it felt like half a day. He’d left his phone on the counter and it blinked frantically with missed calls and unread messages. He scrolled through, discovering that the incident at his house was blowing up the neighborhood block-watch group. More problematically, it seemed one of the members had leaked content to the press. Social media was full of speculation that he’d been targeted by everything from a suicide bomber to the Ku Klux Klan.

He got halfway through a panicked voicemail from Roland before deleting it and calling him. Roland answered on the first ring. Oz quickly talked him down and explained the situation. They hung up so Roland could brief the press team and start to mitigate the damage of the leaked messages.

He fired off reassuring messages to his family, all asleep given the time difference, then turned his phone facedown and gazed at the door to the backyard, wondering how much longer Detective Hegarty would keep Kate.

He couldn’t wait to see her. In principle he abhorred violence but seeing her pummel that guy sent a thrill shuddering through him. His uncle’s wife hadn’t even called when Erdem died. Kate was prepared to take a criminal assault charge to protect him.

He loved her. Improbable, impractical, but the clearest truth he’d ever known. He had to tell her. He would tell her, although the idea scared him to death. You couldn’t un-speak something like this, couldn’t take it back, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He needed her to know. What she chose to do afterward, well, that was up to her.

Car doors slammed outside, followed by the sounds of engines starting up and receding. He heard the front door open and close, and the beep of the alarm being set. Then Kate walked into the kitchen, her face drawn with stress and exhaustion.

“The police are gone. There are still a few photographers outside but they seem to be drifting off, too.”

He stood, motioning her into his arms. “Come here.”

She obeyed, her slim form fitting into his embrace like their bodies had been designed to slot together. He closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. The woman he held was so brave, so tough, and then by turns so soft and vulnerable. He wanted to be the man she always leaned on. The one she let in. The one she kept close.

Her breathing hitched. He looked down and realized she was crying. Silent, forcefully stifled sobs.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, sweeping his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away her tears. “You heard the detective. It’s all over now.”

She stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as she nodded to the island. “Let’s sit.”

He resumed his seat, and when he met Kate’s gaze again her eyes were dry and shuttered, her face set in a determined expression.

He arched a brow. “What?”

“I can’t move to Spain,” she said flatly.

He raised his palm to stop her. “First, we’re not making any decisions tonight. Not that we were in a position to do so anyway, but especially not now. Second—and we can go into all of this later—I’ve thought a lot about how we could make this work, not just for you, but for your family. You did say you took Spanish in school, and if we had enough notice we could get you into a language class before we go. There are quite a few British players at the club, too, so you wouldn’t be totally isolated among the plus-ones. We’d make a schedule to fly your family out and for you to fly home to see them, so there’s never any uncertainty. Maybe Dallas could even spend—”

“Oz.” She silenced him with a firm voice. “I’m not moving to Spain. I’m moving home to Jasper.”

He blinked, not sure he’d understood. “Why? Since when?”

“It’s something I have to do,” she replied testily, then briefly closed her eyes. When she spoke again her tone had softened. “I was so ready to leave the military. I was tired of being told where to live, where to go and how to get there. I was excited to take control of my life, but when I got to Saudi I realized I was still taking orders. I was told how to dress, where to be at what time—the only things that changed were who did the telling and the numbers in my bank account.”

“I would never tell you what to do. All I meant was—”

She shook her head. “I can’t go from one uniform to another, from Sergeant Mitchell to a pro athlete’s girlfriend. I have to stand on my own two feet. Figure out who I am and what I really want.”

Uneasy comprehension cooled his blood. “What are you saying?”

“I want you to know this has nothing to do with you. This is all my problem, my issue. I have to work it out before I can be a good partner to anyone.”

His chest tightened. He’d used versions of the same break-up line so many times, and now it came back to rip out his heart when it was at its most vulnerable.

He flattened his palm on the granite, fighting to keep his composure. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“No,” she said, her expression hard and unmovable. He swallowed hard, absorbing the blow like any good defender would. His job on the pitch was to take the hits and stay on his feet. He focused on doing the same now, righting his tilting thoughts, rooting himself in the moment no matter how much it hurt.

“I’m sorry about…what we did,” she continued, a betraying waver in the words. “I know you waited a long time. I didn’t know I would feel this way or I never would have—”

“Made love to me?” he demanded, anger readily pouring in to replace sorrow. “Let me make that commitment to you knowing full well you couldn’t promise to return it? You should be sorry. That’s a hell of a cynical way to treat someone who cares about you.”

“I know,” she agreed, and too late he understood that she wanted him to hate her. She wanted him to kick her out, his fury letting her off the hook.

“You can’t stand to be loved, can you?” he realized aloud.

Her attention sharpened but she said nothing.

“This finding-yourself line is bullshit and you know it,” he spat, growing more agitated by the second. “I know exactly who you are. You’re a coward. You’re terrified that I chose you because you’re smart and strong and sexy, which means there’s no other you to discover. She’s been here all the time. And if I love you, it makes it awfully hard for you not to love yourself. You’d have to let go of all your failures and look forward, and that’s unfamiliar territory. Am I right?”

Her silent, unwavering glare told him he was, as clearly as if she’d said the words out loud.

“I’m leaving,” she said tightly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Of course you are.” He pushed off the stool so hard it rocked on its legs, then he followed her to the front door. “Keep running, Kate. You ran to the military, then you ran away from it, and now you’re running from me. Maybe you’re the exception—maybe you can run forever. But if you ask me, you’re going to catch up with yourself eventually, and then you’ll have to face who you are—who you’ve always been. I could’ve been at your side, but if you’d rather go it alone, I won’t stop you.”

She punched the code into the alarm panel, her finger shaking but her shoulders stiff.

“Goodbye, Oz.” Her voice was icy and unyielding. He set his jaw, waiting for her to see sense, waiting for the moment when she realized she was making the mistake of her life.

Instead she slammed the door behind her. After a few seconds he heard her car start, then the brakes squealing as she spun backward out of the driveway.

She was gone.

He pressed his back against the door, rage and regret and stomach-twisting despair warring within him.

He shouted the filthiest word he knew from his three languages. It rang back at him, echoing around his impeccable, empty house.