The Cornerstone (26 page)

Will:
Yeah it shocks me too

Shannon:
That must have been some mission

Will:
Affirmative.

Shannon:
Nice to know you made it back in one piece.

Will:
Terrorists are a lot like king salmon. Life is great until the seals show up

Will:
And don’t think I didn’t notice you worrying about my ass

Will:
You going soft on me now?

Shannon:
About as soft as your cock

Will:
Awwww that’s sweet

Will:
Completely false, but sweet

*

Will:
Whose soul are you eating today?

Will:
Do you wear one of those blinged out wrestling belts? Something with ‘Soul Crusher’ engraved on it? It just sounds like it would be appropriate.

Shannon:
You know what they say. Send me to the wolves and I’ll come back leading the pack.

Will:
That you do, peanut.

Will:
So who are enslaving?

Shannon:
Not that it’s any of your goddamn business…but Sam

Will:
Well, he deserves it.

Shannon:
Don’t you have governments to overthrow or submarines to blow up?

Will:
Yes. I’m saving that for after lunch, though.

Will:
What did Sam do to earn your wrath?

Shannon:
Nothing. He’s just being a bitch.

Will:
Is it because he discovered he’s a grown man who needs someone to launder his pants?

Shannon:
Would you shut the fuck up?

Will:
Yeah, next time I have your pussy to suck on

Will:
And thank fuck that’s going to be soon

*

“I can’t hear
you,” I said, raising my voice though I knew it wouldn’t help. I glanced at the screen. “Tom? You’re breaking up. I have a good signal but I think there’s something wrong with my phone. It got wet this morning, and it sounds like something is sizzling inside. Hold on, let me get into the terminal.”

I blew my hair out of my face and tucked the phone against my other ear but I was still in shambles. I was morbidly premenstrual and feeling one hundred percent too bloated for these jeans and this bra. I was ready to eat six cheeseburgers and all the chocolate cakes, and I was well past
hangry
. My quick flight from Boston to Washington, D.C. hung out on the tarmac for three hours before takeoff, and it was packed with dueling high school cheerleading squads and screaming babies. When I stepped off the plane and onto the jetway at Reagan National, my ears were ringing and I couldn’t get “we go tick, tick, boom” out of my head.

And it was a full moon.

This was one of those insane weeks where every item crossed off my to-do list was replaced with another five, and everyone was miserable about something. It was cold and snowy, work on our properties was taking much longer than expected, and another one of Patrick’s assistants quit in a flurry of tears and drama. Oh, and Will and I hadn’t been in the same state in over three months.

We made plans to spend a long weekend together in January, but a blizzard shut down the airports. Will made some noise about knowing where to find a snow mobile, but he was on the opposite end of the country and wasn’t getting to me, even with all his connections. Instead, we video chatted while we both watched
The Day After Tomorrow
. I thought it was a good choice considering the whole epic snowfall situation; Will thought my humor was frighteningly dark.

Neither of us ever brought up Christmas Eve…but I replayed that conversation daily.

We lost two more weekends when he was pulled from baby SEAL training to handle an overseas mission. The certain danger he faced hit me harder than ever before, and it tore me apart. The worry was paralyzing. I scoured the Internet for incidents involving special operations, and kept cable news on the background all night. Until I heard from him and he confirmed he was perfectly safe, I was a frantic mess and the most difficult part was knowing there was nothing I could do.

When his call came through, telling me that he was alive and well and hopping a flight back to the base in Virginia, no one could have stopped me from going to him. It didn’t matter that this weekend was terrible for me, work-wise, or that Sam was notably depressed, or that we only had one day together since Will was due on base Sunday morning.

“Sam is being very
strange
,” Tom said.

“He’s always strange. It’s his signature look,” I said.

“Right, yes, I know that. However,” Tom said, taking a breath, “he seems really…off. I’ve been ordering him lunch every day like you asked, but he didn’t even notice me when I walked into his office. He was just staring out the window. When I came back three hours later, he hadn’t eaten anything. Also, I don’t believe he’s sleeping. Did you talk to him before heading out?”

A slow-moving group of cheerleaders ahead of me burst into shouts and chants as they marched up the jetway, and I edged around them. The terminal smelled like cinnamon rolls and teriyaki, and in a perverse way, that combination sounded great. “Sometimes he does that. Staring out the window. It’s his creative process. I don’t know what else to tell you. We had breakfast a few weeks ago and everything was fine, but other than that, he doesn’t talk to me much. And you know what, Tom? I can’t chase him down every time he sneezes or frowns. Neither can you. We have a goddamn business to run and he’s not a toddler.”

“Business to run; no toddlers. Got it.” I heard papers shuffling on his end. “Talk to me about the building you picked up in the South End.”

I stared at the patterned carpet beneath my feet. “I need Matt to check it out before I decide. If nothing else, it’s a hot area and I’ll be able to dump it for a profit.”

“Two of the properties you’re watching in Cambridge were sold today.”

“Motherfuck,” I groaned. I tugged my bag higher on my shoulder while I scanned the terminal for ground transportation signs. Will was driving up from Virginia, and we agreed to meet at The Jefferson, near DuPont Circle. “Ask Patrick to walk the other one I was looking at, and make an offer if—”

But Will wasn’t at the hotel. He was striding toward me, his hands fisted at his sides and a sharp scowl across his face. He shook his head and relieved me of my bag. “You could have canoed here faster than that fucking flight.” His arm curled around my waist, tugging me close to him, and he snatched the phone from my hand. “She’ll call you back next week.”

He ended the call and slipped the device into his back pocket.

“You could have waited a minute for me to finish,” I said, head reclined against his chest.

Will tipped my chin up and crushed his lips to mine. “They’ve had you all week. All month. All fucking winter. It’s been ninety-seven goddamn days since I’ve seen you and I’m not sharing. It’s my turn now,” he whispered into my cheek. “I have been climbing the walls waiting for you, peanut.”

“I know, I know, and my flight…” I trailed off as Will’s hands landed on my hips and he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Shannon, it’s not your fault,” he said, his lips pressed to my jaw. “I couldn’t wait in the hotel room any longer. I was losing my fucking mind.”

We made our way through the airport and into a taxi. We stayed close, always touching and leaning into each other, and this was different from the wild urgency of desire, but it was still a powerful tide of emotions, all swirling together, washing over me, dragging me from the safety of the shore. I was drowning in Will, and as he banded his arms around me and squeezed tight for the tenth time this evening, I knew this wasn’t scheduled sex anymore. It was tipping into affection and concern and
other feelings.

It was scary, but then it wasn’t.

I knew scary things—death and disease, violence and abuse—and this wasn’t like that. This was warm and happy and special, and maybe…maybe it was finally my turn.

Will led me to our room, and he was pretty cute with my Burberry tote on his arm. “That really works for you,” I said, pointing at the bag.

“Yeah?” he asked, holding the door open for me. “You’re sure it goes with my shoes?”

“And the belt,” I laughed. He pulled my coat over my shoulders then dropped to his knees behind me, dragging his fingers down my sides. He stayed there, his face resting on my backside, and all the noise of
‘What is this and what are we doing?’
around me quieted.

His fingers moved under my shirt and to my belly, smoothing over my skin and dipping beneath my jeans, and then he freed the buttons at my waist. The denim slipped over my hips, and I bent to help him with my lace-up boots. “What kind of shoes are these? Do these things ever end?”

“You want to talk about my boots?”

“No, I want to get your boots off, and your pants and your shirt and everything else,” he said, laughing. “Maybe next time you go with the ones that zip, you know, when ripping your clothes off will be part of the agenda.”

Once the boots were abandoned alongside my jeans, and Will was kissing his way up from my ankles, heat was pumping through my veins, awakening all my nerves and filling me with this need to feel him against me and pour all my words and thoughts, and hopes and fears, and the
everything
building up inside me over him, over us.

I sent my shirt and bra sailing through the air, and then I started tearing his jeans off. “I want you on the bed,” I whispered.

“I love your scent,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” His teeth scraped over my upper thigh, pausing to bite along the line of my panties. “And I love it when you start handing out orders.” He stood, scooped me up, and marched toward the bed. “You’re hot when you’re bossy.”

He set me on the bed—for once, no tossing—and immediately crawled over me. His cock was heavy on my leg, and I arched up, starved for him. An impatient, whiny noise rattled in my throat and he chuckled, kissing the valley between my breasts.

Will shrugged out of his shirt, and my eyes landed on a measure of gauze banded around his bicep. There were tiny spots of blood seeping through. I bolted up and feathered my fingers over him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He glanced at his arm, his eyebrows lifting as if he was seeing the wound for the first time. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.”

“
A flesh wound
?” I repeated. I might have screeched. Couldn’t be sure. “What does that mean?”

He tore the gauze off and balled it up, exposing a line of stitches the length of my hand. “The bullet barely hit me. I didn’t even notice until we were back on base.”

“You were
shot
?” Definitely screeched that time.

His face softened and he leaned down to brush his lips over mine. “It’s okay,” he said. “It happens, and I live to fight another day. There are far worse things than a flesh wound.”

“But that’s just it,” I said, tears—dumb, hormone-fueled tears—threatening behind my eyes. I was bare save for my panties, my hands wrapped around Will’s arm. “Worse things
could
happen, and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can protect everyone but you, and you need it the most.”

“Baby, no, you can’t worry about that,” he said, pulling me into his lap. He kissed my hair, my temple, my jaw.

“But what if something
did
happen,” I continued. “Would I even know?”

I watched his throat bob, and I knew I wasn’t going to like the response. “I’m sure Lo would hear.” He rubbed his chin over my shoulder and held me tighter. “Listen. We can talk about this tomorrow. The only thing happening to me tonight is death by blue balls.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?” I asked. “Am I going to find any other injuries?”