PROLOGUE
Zeke
Heat hit the back of my neck as I climbed off the bus, thesounds of waves crashing, the smell of the ocean, so strong I could taste it onmy tongue.
Home.
Fuck.
Slinging my duffel over my shoulder, I ignored the pain itcaused my wounds, and headed toward my house. It was dry as hell, heat waveswiggling up from the familiar road ahead like serpents. Each step I took kickedup sand that had been carried on the wind from the beach, and it stuck to mycombat boots. My folks had moved back to Roxford, Texas from New York, fiveyears ago. I should be happy to be here. I wasn’t. The closer I got, the moremy gut fucking churned. I hadn’t seen my family, my fiancée, in six months. Mylast visit had only been four weeks, not long, but long enough to buy a houseand knock up Diane. Truth was, knowing I had responsibilities back here was theonly thing that got me through the last few weeks. Knowing I had people thatwere depending on me to come home.
My family.
Two of my buddies would never see theirs again, would neversee their kids grow, would never kiss their wives again. They had me to thankfor that. A split second, that’s all it took, now everything had changed. Iwasn’t sure how I was going to do this anymore—live, have this life. Act likenothing had happened.
Be normal.
How could I do that when I was the reason those men losttheir lives? How? During my career, I’d had ninety-eight confirmed kills. I wasdeadly accurate. One of the military’s most effective snipers. I knew how to domy job. All I’d had to do that day was aim and pull the trigger and they’dstill be here. It was my job to seek out a threat and if necessary, pull thefucking trigger. That kid had walked out, explosives strapped to his chest, andI froze. I’d failed. I’d failed all of them.
My body was still healing from that explosion, and I’d beleft with scars that would be a constant reminder of what I hadn’t been able todo. Like I could ever forget?
I deserved nothing less.
Now I had to . . . what? Somehow put it all behind me? Be ason, a husband, a father. Pretend I was someone I wasn’t the rest of my life.Find a way to make my kid proud of me, when I felt like the lowest piece ofshit on the face of this earth.
I looked ahead, spotting the house I’d bought for Diane andme. Sweat slid down between my shoulder blades, and not just from thesweltering heat. I was used to the heat. That churning in my gut started again,and I did my best to shake it off.
But nothing would take that feeling away, like my insideshad been jammed through a meat grinder.
Deal with it, asshole. It’s the least you deserve.
The whole forward momentum thing wasn’t easy, not when Iwanted to turn around and never come back. I focused on the house in front ofme. My house. It was small, needed some work, but it was only two down fromwhere my folks lived and right on the beach. I’d wanted Diane to have someoneshe knew, that she could count on, close by. The grass looked long, the gardensovergrown. Music was coming from inside. Loud music. I hadn’t told anyone I wascoming home. I didn’t want any fuss. Me getting home in one piece from mylatest deployment was nothing to celebrate, so I knew it wasn’t a welcome homeparty. The front door was locked. I banged on it, but I doubted Diane couldhear me.
I headed round back. There was a white pickup parked therewith “Wayne’s Auto Repairs” written on the side. I frowned as I took the stairsto the back door and pushed it open. I strode through the kitchen and down theshort hall to the living room and pulled up short.
Wayne, owner of the truck parked behind my house, wassitting on my couch, legs spread, looking down, watching my fiancée suck hisdick. He looked up at me and paled. I dropped my duffel to the floor as Waynetightened his grip on Diane’s hair and tugged.
She slapped at his hand, and kept going.
He tugged again. “Diane!”
She pulled off with a pop. “What the hell, Wayne! If youdon’t stop pulling my hair, you can suck your own dick.”
Wayne pushed her off and tilted his head to me while heshoved his dick back in his pants.
Diane spun around. Her eyes widened and she shot to herfeet. “Now, Zeke . . .”
It was weird. I felt . . . nothing, not really. My emotionshad been running full-throttle for weeks, so this? It barely registered. Therewas only one thing that concerned me. I did a sweep of her body, taking her infrom head to toe. She should be showing by now, from what I’d read. Her bellywas flat. “The baby?”
She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. “Thisisn’t what it looks like . . . I was lonely, and you were gone . . . You’realways gone . . .”
“The baby?” I said again, voice flat.
She took a step toward me and I shook my head.
She stopped where she was and planted her hands on her hips.“Look, I . . . I wasn’t ready to be a mother . . . I’m young . . . I . . .”
“You got rid of it?” Even I was surprised by the coldnessthat had seeped into my voice.
She bit her lip, then finally nodded.
The hot jagged knot I’d had in my gut for weeks, sharpened,dug deeper.
I was being punished. I’d always wanted to be a father.Shit, two months ago, I’d been so damn excited, looking forward to coming home.I didn’t deserve it, not anymore, and the only good thing I had left had beentaken away from me.
“Wayne was here for me when you weren’t,” she said. “I waslonely . . . I . . .”
I had nothing to say, so I turned and walked out.
