Resonance of Stars (Greenstone Security #5) - Anne Malcom Page 0,71
that I know of,” Duke said, waiting until he’d finished chewing. “Also I don’t think God had anything to do with much. Just been raised by two strong women.” His eyes never left mine. “Second, my job’s in LA.”
“You know that’s not what I asked,” I said, trying to decide whether I really wanted more of the wonderful dinner or to consume as many pieces of information about Duke as I could. “This place, it is...magic, compared to the bullshit of LA. Your family is here. You suit it here. What made you want to make a living babysitting spoiled celebrities?”
He put his fork down, the teasing left his eyes. “I’ll say that babysitting spoiled celebrities has paid off big time.” A pause. I took another bite, because my famous self-control was failing me. Duke sipped his wine. “Also, that’s just a small part of what we do. Good for the image. Rakes in a lot of money. But the rest of it utilizes things I’m good at.”
He didn’t have to elaborate for me to understand what he meant. Dark shit. Messy shit. I didn’t know how messy or dark. Remembering the team, they’d all looked clean-cut, impressively attractive, and the offices were expensively appointed. Greenstone Security was one of the most reputable firms in the country.
But did I believe each of the men and women I’d sat at that table with were capable of illegal shit?
Totally.
“You’re good at being a cowboy,” I countered.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good at it ’cause it’s what I was born for, but life turned me into something different.”
“Why did you leave?” That was the big question. Plenty of boys left farms because of poverty, because of shitty parents, but this ranch had neither of those things.
Duke shrugged. “Would like to give you a valid reason, one that makes sense. But don’t have one, other than I was a stupid kid. Angry when I had no right to be. Bored. Thought I was meant for something more than this. Then September 11 happened. I felt it my duty, thought fighting for my country would be my calling.” Another pause. “War isn’t anything like they show you in the movies. People know that, because it’s the fucking cliché. But they don’t prepare you for how fucking boring it can be. Long stretches of nothing and short bursts of horror. It put everyone on edge, that kind of atmosphere, turned everyone into something different. Turned me into something different. Something useful for Uncle Sam. Then war did look like the movies, in all the worst ways.”
Duke still held my eyes in his gaze, forcing me to see just how haunted he was. “Came back different. Like they all do. Didn’t even try to come home. Knew that shit wouldn’t work for me. Couldn’t act like I was the son or brother they’d had. I made peace with it. My family accepted it because...well, you’ve met them. Because they accept just about anything from people they love. I came home for holidays, for as long as I could handle. Then helped Keltan build Greenstone.” He took another sip of wine. “I came here because I didn’t think I had any other choice. I came here thinking it would be torture. Not because of you, but because every time I’ve set foot in my home since I got back, it’s been like that. But not this time. This time it feels...different.”
I would’ve choked on my last bite of ravioli had it not been frozen on the fork halfway to my mouth.
Duke was saying things from my fantasy. Well, he wasn’t saying it outright, but the fucking meaning was there. Things I thought I wanted to hear.
My fork hit my plate with a clatter. I stood abruptly, gathering my plate and his too.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I said quickly, averting my eyes.
I didn’t give him time to answer, since I escaped to the kitchen. It was a shitty, selfish thing to do, something befitting of Anastasia Edwards. I should’ve been kind in the face of his brutal honesty. He was sharing all those pieces that I’d been craving, and I’d eaten it all, flesh and bones. But I didn’t know how to be kind. Didn’t know how to take the responsibility for this feeling.
I expected Duke to follow me. I wanted him to be pissed off at me—for not showing the emotional intelligence that a woman who deserved him would have.