Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,3
she’s giving up field work.”
“Don’t. She loves being a mom to Chloe, and I think it’s a good thing she’s dropping down to part time.”
Kid sighed as his wife disappeared down the hall. “She is a great mom. She records everything for me, so I don’t miss anything.” Kid cleared his throat.
“She shows Chloe your picture and talks about you all the time.” Hemingway rolled his eyes. “Your daughter is going to know you, Kid. Stop worrying and do what you do best.”
“Be a menace?”
“Yeah, that.”
Kid smiled, the shadows gone from his eyes, but in their place was a shining gratitude. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most. That will never sit right with me, Atty.” Kid swallowed hard. “But you were. My brothers were and her colleagues were. It will always be the case that I will be deployed often, and I’ll have to juggle both being a SEAL and my precious family.” He closed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He took another hard breath and opened them, his voice subdued. “Thank you for being there for her, Atty. I’ll never forget that you jeopardized everything for her.”
Hemingway blinked rapidly and looked away. “She gave up everything for me, Kid. I will always be there for all of you just the way you were there for me.” It was his turn to take a heavy breath. “Thank you, Kid, for everything you did for me. I feel more than ready to become a ‘team guy.’”
“I think we both know, you already are.”
Kid one-arm hugged him and said “You need anything, let us know. Be safe and kick ass.”
“Not sure how I can do both.”
“You’ll figure it out. Hoo-yah, Atty.”
“Hoo-yah, Kid.”
When he drove to the ferry to take him over to the island, choosing the slow ocean scenic route instead of the two-mile long Coronado Bridge, he disembarked and drove his gunmetal gray Jeep named Gladiator, the model appealing to him as a warrior and fit his surfboard nicely in the bed of the four-seater truck, to his hotel just a block away from NAB and parked. He had to report tomorrow, but he had an evening to fill. He left his hotel and walked to a nearby club located on Orange Avenue, Coronado’s main artery, which was lined with shops, restaurants, galleries, theaters and a museum. The vantage point offered stunning views of San Diego’s downtown skyline.
The club was upscale, open and airy inside, with a long silver bar. Several people milled around, talking and drinking, and some were at the small tables and sofas scattered around the room. A DJ was playing music. Hemingway sat down at one of the available stools and ordered a beer.
The night moved on, and he texted his sister and dad that he had arrived safely. There were several women in the bar, but he didn’t give them a second glance. He was here for one purpose—get through training.
He’d been truthful back in Brazil when he’d told Dodger that he had never been in love. He’d had plenty of sex with girls in his high school, in college where he’d ducked relationships, realizing they would only get in his way. Staying unattached was just part of the mission to become a SEAL.
Something…a sixth sense, a gust of air over his skin that caused goosebumps…washed over him, and he looked toward the door just as Luke Evan’s rendition of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” sounded over the speakers. He turned his head and his brain stopped, his chest suspended, and everything went unfocused.
He knew this was crazy.
He tilted his head to the side, looking through the crowd at the woman moving through the door and into the club.
The sheer jacket she wore did nothing to hide the mesh cutouts of the little black dress that hugged her curves, the see-through panels just below her breasts and along the racy hem revealed her toned skin, giving her a badass vibe like she was surveying the bar for danger lurking amongst the laughing patrons. Her cool, collected, smoky black eyes were almond-shaped, but instead of softening her features, they were more fixed than a hawk’s. Determination gleamed in those midnight eyes, and his body warmed with lust he couldn’t fight, an unwanted attraction that made everything complicated—unless there was nothing between them except heat and flesh and pleasure. That was all he could afford tonight. Her skin was as tanned as a surfer’s, her hair,