I explained how I’d picked the kid out before he’d even walked in, plus everything that had happened in the café. It was just another routine debriefing.
Only I wasn’t in Kuwait anymore. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
Finally, they let me go, and I pedaled home, trying to quiet my brain again. But I couldn’t seem to fall into the rhythm of it this time. When I got home, I was breathless, my heart pounding. My legs felt like jelly by the time I made it up the stairs, and I knew that I had pushed a little too hard on the way back.
I kept thinking of that gun, lying there on the ground. About what might have happened if the man had been really nasty, really smart, experienced. I might not have gotten him down as easy as I had. Someone might have gotten hurt.
And I was a civilian now. I wasn’t supposed to be disarming people anymore. I had to remember that.
I chugged half a bottle of water. Just then, my phone started ringing. I eyed it for a moment and then grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Ace Bradley, this is Tina Fenworth with the Boston Globe.”
That was the paper that Harper worked for. For a second, I wondered if she was hurt. But she wouldn’t have given them my number to contact if she was hurt, I didn’t think. Especially not since she had just gotten my number from calling her earlier. No, that didn’t make any sense.
I tuned back into what Tina was saying. “We heard about your heroism in Cambridge, and we were hoping to run a story on you. I just wanted to know if it was possible to set up an interview with one of our reporters.”
Suddenly, an idea struck me. “Is Harper Dawson still working there?” I asked.
“Um, yeah, she is,” Tina said, sounding surprised. “Or rather, she’s freelance, but she works with us regularly."
“She’s the only person I’m willing to talk to,” I said. “You guys can have exclusive rights to the story and whatever else, but I’m not going to talk to just any reporter. I want to talk to Harper.”
7
Harper
I got ready for the interview, trying to pretend that it was just another interview. But it felt like the address was burning a hole through the pocket of my dark trousers, and I kept checking my reflection in the mirror even though I knew I looked fine. Just as professional as ever. Maybe a little flustered.
I still couldn’t believe I was going to do this. Tina, my editor, called me the previous day, sounding panicky. Apparently Ace the retired SEAL had performed some heroic act there in Boston, and the paper wanted the story. And apparently, the bastard had said that he’d only talk to me.
First of all, Tina had wanted to know why he would only talk to me. I’d given her a vague explanation about how I’d met him a few years ago when I was over in Kuwait for six months. She wanted to know if any of the articles that I’d already written had been about him, and I’d told her that I couldn’t tell her that. It had been awkward trying to give Tina enough information without blurting out the fact that I couldn’t do this article, not when Ace’s daughter, a daughter that he didn’t know about, was sitting there in front of me, giggling at something funny on TV.
I tried to decline the interview, but Tina was sure he wouldn’t talk unless it was to me, and she really wanted the story. Plus, she promised me more front-page work if I covered this one. I hadn’t been getting much important stuff since I’d gone freelance, and she knew I was dying to do some of the more important pieces. Everything had just seemed so trivial since I had come back from Kuwait. She knew that.
And she used that.
I sighed. I had begrudgingly agreed to head over to his place to interview him this afternoon. When she’d sent me the address that morning, I’d practically choked on my coffee. Didn’t that just figure? He only lived a few blocks from me.
I had to wonder if he was stalking me. Maybe he was there on some top-secret military business. Maybe they had taken exception, all these years later, to one of the stories I’d written. But I didn’t think Ace would have agreed to come out here and kill me. He didn’t seem like that type of guy.
I shook my head, trying to clear out all these wild fantasies. It had to be just another coincidence.
I drove over to his place, hoping he wouldn’t realize how close I lived. I pulled up in front of his house and knocked on the door. Then, I waited for a moment, bouncing lightly on my toes. I was surprisingly nervous, more than I should have been. I just had to keep this strictly professional. I didn’t have to talk about my life at all, and I definitely didn’t have to tell him about Ava.
Ava was staying with Maisie for the afternoon, thankfully. There was no way I could take her with me to this interview. She looked too much like her dad, and the last thing I needed was for him to figure things out, right there, with her sitting in front of him.
Ace answered the door wearing slacks and a tight Navy T-shirt, and I was reminded just how damned good-looking he was. I swallowed hard and tried to push those thoughts aside, but seriously, it was practically criminal. “Hey,” he said warmly, pulling me into a hug like we were old friends.
I stood stiffly against him, even though every fiber of my being was yelling at me to lean into him, to put my arms around him, to revel in the warmth of his body against mine. It had been a long time since I’d touched a man. Four years, in fact.
Ace pulled back, smiling as though he hadn’t noticed my reluctant acceptance of the hug. “Come on, come in,” he said, waving me in and shutting the door behind him. He led the way into the house, steering me toward the kitchen. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
“Coffee would be good,” I said. I didn’t need more jitters, but the routine of coffee might be nice. It might settle me a little.
While he made the coffee, I pulled out my recorder, a notebook, and a pen. Most people worked on tablets or laptops at this point, but I preferred to go old-school still. There was something about having everything written down in front of me, in my handwriting, that just made the story come together easier.
I hoped this story came together easily. I didn’t want to dwell on this one any more than I had to.