The Ambush Page 4

  “Don't worry.” Ian grinned at me. “I won't let you take the blame or the credit.”

  I laughed, but didn't hide the fact that I was watching him walk, eyeing his face to see if there was any trace of discomfort. While Devlin had pulled strings to get Ian an honorable discharge before he'd gone through everything the army would've required to determine his physical ability, there'd been a possibility all along that Ian wouldn't have gone back to active duty anyway.

  Now, I could see that, if his grandfather hadn't intervened, Ian never would've been discharged.

  “How about you?” Ian asked. “What was it again?”

  “BPPV,” I said. “I have it under control, haven't felt the vertigo for a while.” I didn't mention that the vertigo wasn't the main thing I had to overcome. With the actual damage I'd sustained to my inner ear, I wasn't considered fit for duty. One of the reasons I'd chosen to take this job had been to prove I could handle anything.

  Ian turned to look at me, a question at the corner of his mouth. Instead of asking it, however, he commented, “No one can doubt that following around my sister is a test of stamina.”

  If anything was going to be a segue, that was it. I decided to lay it all out rather than ease into it. “Speaking of your sister, she's upset you made your decision without talking to her first. She's worried for you.”

  “Leighton is worried about Leighton.” Ian stopped and turned to face me. “She picks shit friends, and she's afraid when I'm gone she won't have anyone to depend on.”

  I couldn't exactly disagree with him on the first part. “Is it so wrong for a sister to depend on her brother?” I asked.

  “No, not at all.” Ian shook his head. “Leighton's my big sister, and we've been through a lot. But I can't stay here simply because she can't stand on her own two feet. I have to live my own life. Away from LA.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “So you're using the army to run away.”

  To my surprise, Ian smiled and started hiking again. I fell in step beside him.

  “That's not what I'm doing. I already enlisted once, and whatever my reasons were then, this time I know what I'm in for. I'm choosing the army for itself, not as an escape.”

  “It's a fine line, Ian. The army can't eliminate your past, and you have to force it to give you a future. You're not planning to stay an enlisted man, are you?” I asked.

  There was a moment of silence before he spoke, “No. I've already figured I'll go into communications. You know, make the old man proud.”

  It was a nice gesture, but really, it was also a good fit for Ian. And a good way for him to go into the field, I realized. The army was just about the only way he could work in communications without his grandfather taking over his career. Devlin had built an entertainment empire from a humble start with a Hamm radio and a few good ideas. If Ian showed any interest in communications outside the army, his grandfather would take over and groom him for some corner of his empire. Ian wanted to be his own man. Devlin would eventually respect that, I knew. But he was going to be pissed at the way Ian was doing it.

  “Have you thought of how you're going to break the news to your grandfather?” I asked.

  “Why do you think I'm out here?” Ian asked. “My grandfather isn't the easiest man to talk to. I'm trying to work up a solid enough speech he'll hear all of it instead of answering his work phone part-way through.”

  Just the mention of Devlin's work phone reminded me of all the times over the last few weeks I'd found myself in his office. It'd become a daily habit of mine to check in with him. The room itself was comfort. Clean, tidy, organized for a specific purpose and well-used, with nothing unnecessary. Every time I'd stopped by, I'd been waved in whether or not he was on the phone. If I were off duty, he'd pour us each a drink of whiskey.

  He liked talking about his work, and I liked to hear his stories about making an empire out of nothing. He also asked for updates on his granddaughter, and I occasionally asked for insights about her, though he told me that he was the wrong man to ask. He'd seen them seldom when they were younger, working most of the time, and I could tell he regretted it. I shared my own experiences with having an absent father, but he and I both knew it wasn't the same thing. My father had been serving our country, each tour his part of securing our freedom. Devlin had been working in the entertainment business, focused on making money. Neither of us spoke about the differences, but we didn't deny them either.

  There was one similarity between both of them, I realized suddenly.

  “Tell your grandfather you need a purpose, not just any purpose, but your own. For you, it's the army,” I said.

  “You really think that will work?” Ian asked.

  I caught Ian by the strap of his pack. “How is it I know your grandfather better than you do?”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “He was never around when we were growing up. And then our parents...you know. He was never around then either. He kept working and that was it.” There was no anger or bitterness in the words.

  “People grieve in different ways, and some of them throw themselves into work,” I said.

  “Yeah, but he didn't take the time to help us grieve.” There was anger in his words now. He pulled away and kept walking. “He never talks about them, you know. He's just let them go.”

  I caught up to the young man again. “You've thought about what will happen if you don't come back, right?”

  Ian gave me a sharp look. “Why would I think about that?”

  My voice softened. “It changes the way you say your goodbyes, it makes all the difference. Trust me, I didn't bother with a few goodbyes before I almost died, and I was haunted by what I didn't say.”

  I stopped and looked back at the house. Was that how I could explain it to Leighton? Would she believe me if I told her that I'd seen her in the aftermath of the explosion? Right before I lost consciousness, I'd seen that last moment, her smile, the sight of her walking into that bathroom. I'd been selfish, wanting to keep that smiling image intact. I'd held it in my mind and left, not letting myself consider what Leighton could possibly feel when she discovered I was gone and not coming back.

  If I told her all that, and then told her that I regretted that decision almost every day since then, would it make a difference?

  “If I don't come home, it won't make much of a difference to my grandfather,” Ian said. “He'll keep working, keep going.”

  “After losing his daughter and his grandson?” I asked. I gave Ian a level look. “That might be more than he can take.”

  Ian cringed as that thought flashed through his imagination, his grandfather devastated and overcome by grief. I watched him dismiss the idea as impossible. He couldn't even think of his grandfather taking a day off, much less imagining him stopping work altogether to mourn. It was so much easier to think of his grandfather as a heartless workaholic. I liked Ian, but I felt a pang of sympathy for Devlin. This family may have more money than my family could ever dream, but they were fucked up.

  “That's what you have to think about when you say goodbye. Say what they might need to remember if it comes to that,” I said.

  “Morbid, man.” Ian hitched his pack up higher. “I know you're trying to talk me out of re-enlisting, but that is just morbid.”

  “I'm being realistic,” I said. “You have a choice, and you need to think about what it means for your family, not just you. What about Leighton?”

  “Leighton? Leighton will be fine,” Ian said, stopping on the path again.

  He scuffed his boots and removed an unseen pebble from the treads. I understood why he was so adamant that his sister would be okay. He had to believe it so he didn't feel guilty, so he didn't feel like he should stay.

  “What was she like as a big sister?” I asked without realizing the question was on my tongue.

  “The best,” Ian answered immediately. “She was always the first to defend me, even if I didn't need anyone else standing up for me. Leighton has a way of making p
eople feel like tiny crawling ants, if she wants to.”

  I had no doubt about that. “Why did she have to learn to do that?”

  Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “I know everyone thinks she's got it easy. Great looks, lots of money, must be a smooth ride, but it hasn't been that way for her. Everyone wants what she has, so they pick at her. Even little kids at school did it.”

  I thought of Paris and that asshole Ricky. Some things hadn't changed.

  Ian continued, “One time at school, one of Leighton's friend's mother complimented her hair color. She said it was the prettiest shade of red she had ever seen. The next day, her daughter asked Leighton if she could cut a lock of her hair. She said she wanted to take it to her hairdresser and get her hair dyed the same color. Leighton was flattered, so she agreed. That little...girl cut a big chunk of Leighton's hair off the back, almost all the way to the scalp. Leighton loved her long hair, but had to get a little pixie cut to cover it up. It took her three years to grow it back.”

  “So Leighton learned to defend herself,” I said.

  Ian snorted. “Except she doesn't. She acts like nothing phases her, like nothing hurts. She won't defend herself because she's been picked at and on so much that I think she half-believes that shit.”

  “And that's just making it worse,” I said. My eyes narrowed as I realized I had a chance here. “Does she have anyone who picks at her the most? Any enemies?”

  “Taking this whole bodyguard thing pretty seriously, huh?” Ian asked. “I thought you were just doing it until you could get grandfather's doctors to clear you for active duty again. You were the one who gave me the idea to do it myself, after all.”

  “That doesn't mean I don't have your sister's genuine interests at heart,” I said.

  Ian's eyes widened. “Whoa, wait a minute! Are you in love with Leighton?”

  Shit. I hadn't meant for it to come across that way. Except...it was better, I realized, for Ian to assume my interest was romantic. If he knew there was a threat against Leighton, he'd want to stay, but for all the wrong reasons. And he'd be putting himself in danger too. The best thing I could do now was encourage him to re-enlist.

  Safe in the army, I thought. The irony wasn't lost on me.

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Oh, it matters,” Ian said. “You know she has a boyfriend, right?”

  “Ricky? He's an asshole.”

  Ian nodded. “He is, but they're together.” He sighed. “She claims that Ricky's the only person who really understands her.”

  “Besides you,” I said.

  Ian lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well, we don't talk like that.”

  While I wanted to keep him safe, I had to know something. “Are you actually comfortable leaving Leighton in the loving arms of that asshole while you re-enlist in the army?”

  “No.” Ian shook his head, and then he grinned. “I never said that. I hate the guy. I feel comfortable about leaving because she's got you.”

  “Believe whatever you want.” I tried to keep my tone casual. “But tell me who else I should keep an eye on besides her so-called boyfriend.”

  “Good luck keeping tabs on everyone Leighton knows.” He chuckled. “She may not have a lot of real friends, but she has a ton of acquaintances.”

  “Anyone stand out as more than simply being jealous or wanting to pick at Leighton? Anyone you might call an enemy?”

  Ian shot me a sharp look. “Why do you want to know about Leighton having enemies? Is there something you're not saying?”

  Shit. The kid was even smarter than I thought.

  “I'm saying I'll watch over her while you're gone. I don't want her to get hurt, and she's already upset about the idea of you leaving.”

  “The idea?” Ian asked. “You did it again, sounded like my grandfather. I've made my decision. I'm re-enlisting.” His voice was firm. “I know it'll hurt Leighton, and I know it'll upset my grandfather. I know if I get killed in action they'll be broken up. But I still know it was what I was meant to do.”

  I studied him for a moment, sizing him up, sizing up the truth of his words. Finally, I nodded.

  “Then you have to do what you think is right, Ian,” I said. “Just make sure you tell your family what you've told me.”

  Chapter 6

  Leighton

  I laid on the deck chair and told myself that drinking too much last night had been completely justified. It didn't, however, help my pulsing headache or how pissed I was at myself for going there again.

  The ocean waves surged below, the sun was already hot, and the breeze was cool. An absolutely perfect day. I had hoped to wake up at Ricky's beach house refreshed and ready to find some project to take my mind off Ian. Instead, I was almost immobile with no one but myself to blame.

  Except Haze, I thought petulantly.

  It was Haze's fault Ian had convinced the army doctors to assess him again. Haze had given Ian the idea to work on his feet. One part physical therapy, the other building proof that his injury didn't prevent him from doing the sort of physical things that Grandfather had used as excuses to push through the honorable discharge. Haze's idea had worked, and I knew I should have been happy for my little brother. Instead, I was angry, miserable, and afraid.

  Ian was going to re-enlist in the army and leave me, maybe never to return, and it was all Haze's fault. How could the very man who'd saved my younger brother in the first place encourage him to go back?

  “Leighton, get up. Get in the house.” Haze strode out onto the deck and grabbed my arm.

  “Excuse me?” I snapped as I tried to pull my arm back. “You work for me, remember?”

  “Someone jumped the front gates and is sneaking around the back. You need to get inside and lock yourself in the bathroom. Now.”

  He hauled me up from the chair and wrapped my sarong over my string bikini, not even bothering to tie it so I could move. I was tangled up and held too close to his chest, the feel of him making my stomach clench. I tried to push back, but he didn't react as he opened the sliding glass door. His expression was grim, the muscles in his jaw tight.

  Shit. He wasn't just worried about some asshole photographer getting a shot of me in a bikini.

  “You're serious?” My pulse skyrocketed. “You think someone's here to hurt me? Why would you think that? It's probably just a fan...”

  “Why doesn't matter,” Haze said. He turned me as we entered the beach house, shielding me from whatever or whomever might have already been inside. “The guest bathroom. Get inside and lock the door.”

  “Haze, you're scaring me.” I tried to pull away again and, this time, he let me go even though he continued herding me where he wanted me to go. “It's probably just some idiot friend of Ricky's, or paparazzi. Worst case, it's someone who thinks they can steal a few bucks. There's no reason to go to DefCon 1.” Despite what I said, I let Haze maneuver me toward the bathroom.

  “He wasn't dressed right.” Haze didn't look at me as he spoke. He was clearly in full Special Forces mode. “Neutral hat pulled low, fatigues, not someone you normally see around Malibu. He was dressed to be invisible in a landscape, not in a crowd.”

  “And for some reason you think that means I'm in danger? You honestly believe someone is after me?” Anger started to burn away my fear as I clutched the doorframe. “What aren't you telling me?”

  “Let me do my job, Leighton.”

  The click of the front door latch froze us both. I could feel the blood draining from my face even as adrenaline flooded through me.

  I spoke in a low whisper, “What's going on, Haze?”

  He didn't answer. He unhooked my hands from the doorframe, gave them a reassuring squeeze, and then pushed me back. The door shut a second later and I quickly locked it. I stood pressed against it, trying to hear what was happening in the open area of the main room.

  Silence opened up like a sinkhole, and I clung to the door. Worry for Haze as much as myself crept through me. Was I really in danger? W
hat if Haze was killed trying to protect me?

  There was a sharp yell followed by a heavy thud. I scrabbled to unlock the door, my only thought that I couldn't let anything happen to Haze.

  Then I heard it. A rumble of laughter. Haze's deep booming laugh joined by another familiar voice.

  “Ian?” I called, already starting to open the door.

  “All clear, Leighton,” Haze said.

  As I reached the end of the hall, I saw Ian standing in the sunken living room rubbing the back of his head. “Grandfather hired the right man to protect you. I can now say from personal experience that your bodyguard is very good at his job.”

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Everything I'd been feeling merged into anger.

  “Man, what a welcome,” Ian said with a grin. “First, I get tackled by this guy, and then my own sister is less than happy to see me.”

  Haze extended a hand to me and I took it, still shaky as I walked down the stairs to join Ian in the sunken living room. “You've never been here before. And Haze said you jumped the front gate.”

  “You didn't answer your phone. I thought something was wrong.” Ian looked from me to Haze and back, a strange expression coming over his face. “Wait, did I interrupt something? I can leave.”

  I pulled my hand out of his, ignoring the pang I felt when he didn't try to stop me. Not surprising. He was good at letting things go. “You're not interrupting anything.” I sighed. “I need a drink.”

  Ian jumped up the steps to the sleek, open kitchen and rolled up his sleeves. “I do make a mean Bloody Mary. Want one, Haze?”

  “I'm working,” Haze said.

  My brother turned to the refrigerator for tomato juice, and I felt Haze's eyes on me. The warmth of his look on my bare skin made my bikini feel even smaller. I rewrapped my sarong into a makeshift sundress and tied the ends behind my neck. The fabric was light, and for a moment, the nearly transparent barrier only intensified his gaze. I walked into the kitchen to put the counter between us before my body responded and I did something stupid. Again.

  “First, you're going to tell me why you decided to make a surprise visit when you've never been here before,” I said, giving him a stern look.