Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The Jonas Brothers superb whistling abruptly stopped blaring through my speakers, but my head kept bobbing and my thumb kept thumbing to the beat that was no longer playing as my ringing cell replaced Joe Jonas crooning about dancing on top of cars.

I glanced at my Yukon's display and frowned.

It was four in the morning in Guam. Too early even for my dad to be awake.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted when I connected the call.

"Morning, sweetheart. How was the wedding?"

"Perfect. But you know Lisa, she wouldn't have it any other way."

That wasn't a dig. My girl was a perfectionist and she owned it. She didn't give anyone else shit or try to boss them into organizing their lives to the nth degree. Lisa was more of a live and let live type of gal. But when it came to her life plan, her job, her wedding, everything was just so. And she'd found a man who loved and adored everything about her, including her over-the-top planning.

"Sounds about right." My dad chuckled. "Are you on your way home?"

Three lanes of gridlocked traffic as far as the eye could see lay out in front of me. What should've been an almost two-hour drive had turned into a nightmare.

"Trying to. 95 is jam packed. Why are you up so early? Everything okay?"

"I talked to Zane."

Of course he did.

He loves you, Aria.

"I met with Smith Everette before I left for Philly on Friday. I gave him the letters and he's meeting me at the house tomorrow," I informed him. "He said he would check into the previous owners. But, Dad, I still think this is a waste of time."

"Better safe than sorry."

I'd heard that a bajillion times over the years.

I bit back my never-ending need to remind him I was thirty-five not fifteen. This need only quelled by the knowledge my father loved and adored me. He also lived over six-thousand miles away which equated to a seventeen hour flight to get to me.

"Okay, Dad. I just hope you're not wasting money paying this Zane guy to look into this. I have a lock on a house for you."

"My girl, the real estate mogul."

I wouldn't call myself a mogul…yet. But I was building a portfolio of investments. Some of the houses I bought I flipped, others I'd kept as rentals. Next up was getting into the commercial market but that would need more capital than I currently had.

"Send me the listing so I can look at it and don't worry that smart little head of yours. Zane owes me a few favors. I'm cashing one in."

"Don't tell me, you saved his life," I teased and slammed on my brakes when some dickwad cut in between me and the car in front of me. "I hate driving through Wilmington."

I glanced in my rearview mirror to make sure I wasn't about to get rear-ended. My eyes went back to the Toyota in front of me but quickly flicked back to the mirror—more accurately to the red Tesla three cars behind me. I'd seen that Tesla twice before. Once when I pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Again when I stopped to get gas.

"I gave him a lift when I was still flying MH-60's," my dad told me. "How bad's traffic?"

"I'm going fifteen in a sixty-five."

That was all my dad needed to settle in for a conversation while he had his morning elixir of some sort of healthy concoction and I crawled along on the freeway wishing I had a coffee. Not that I minded the company, I loved shooting the shit with my dad as long as the topic of conversation wasn't my safety.

Thirty minutes and ten miles later I'd had enough. As soon as I saw the exit for the Christiana Mall I changed lanes when I could—meaning, I waited my turn instead of cutting in front of someone like a selfish dick and merged out of the gridlock. The mall wasn't my favorite place to be but there was a Barnes & Noble. And everyone knows books make everything better. It wasn't until I turned onto Mall Road I noticed the red Tesla had exited behind me.

Shit .

"Listen Dad, I hate to cut this short but I just pulled into the mall parking lot. I'm gonna browse the romance section of Barnes & Noble until this traffic dies down."

"You and your books. When you were a kid, taking away your books was the only punishment that meant anything to you."

I heard that my whole life and he wasn't wrong. The normal kid punishment of no TV or phone or going out never worked with me. I'd much rather hang out with my BFFs Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield and roam the halls of Sweet Valley High with them than sit and mindlessly watch television. Of course as I got older I graduated to fantasy because that was the thing to read. But when I found romance in my late teens, that was it for me—I'd found my home. Thankfully, my dad never perused my selection or there might've been an uncomfortable conversation.

Sadly, I passed the Barnes & Noble and continued around the mall loop keeping an eye on the Tesla.

"Well, Daddio, I haven't changed much. I'd still rather be lost in fantasy than deal with real people."

Luckily my dad didn't understand my quip. I was positive his idea of the fantasy books he thought I read were nothing close to the reality of the fantasies I actually read.

There were other realms and alternate universes and gods and goddesses and dragon slayers, then there were, sexual gods and pussy slayers who graced the pages of the novels I read. By my estimation it was still high fantasy—men like that didn't really exist anymore than the kind who eradicated phantastic creatures.

"Love you, sweetheart."

God, I loved that my dad still called me sweetheart.

"Love you, too, Dad. Talk soon."

I disconnected the call, Joe Jonas came back through the speakers telling me he was stumbling out of bars, and I did something I never, ever did—reached over and rummaged through my purse to pull out my phone. Then I did the second most dangerous thing a driver could do—engaged the screen, pulled up my texts, and scrolled until I found the message I needed.

I did this mentally chastising myself for not saving his number so I didn't have to drive distracted. I told myself I was in a parking lot, so I wasn't being a complete asshole putting other drivers at risk but I still shouldn't have been looking at my phone. Unfortunately parking wasn't an option. Not with the Tesla four cars behind me. I might've given my dad a hard time for being overprotective but I wasn't a horror movie heroine either. I had zero interest in being murdered in a mall parking lot.

By the time I had my thumb hovering over the call icon it was Nick Jonas's turn to sing. Tragically the best part of the song was replaced by ringing.

Just when I thought I was going to have to leave a message he answered, "Smith."

"Hey, it's Aria. Sorry to bother you but I think I'm being followed." I cut straight to it.

"Where are you?"

"Christiana Mall."

I checked my side mirror and the car was still there.

Damn .

"Stay public. The more people?—"

"I should've told you I'm in my car. I'm driving home from Philly. The traffic is horrible. I decided to pull off the freeway and wait it out. Now I'm getting ready to make my second loop around the mall."

"Make. Model. And tag number."

"Red Tesla. I don't know the make and it doesn't have a front tag."

I heard a door slam then what sounded like a garage door open.

"I'm headed that way," he told me and suddenly fear started to creep in. "Get back on the highway but take 1 south to 301. You need to go through the tolls. Don't get off to bypass them."

Shit .

This was happening.

I was being followed.

The calm I felt before I called Smith flew out the window.

"Okay."

"Depending on traffic, I won't get to you until somewhere near Millington or Galena."

"Maybe I'm wrong."

"You're on your second loop of the mall," he reminded me.

And that was precisely why I was now scared. I could chalk everything before that up to coincidence but what were the chances the Tesla was making the loop a second time. I exited the parking lot and pulled back out into traffic.

"I saw the car pull out behind me when I left the hotel." I felt the need to explain. "And it stopped at the same gas station I did. Then when I was talking to my dad on the phone I noticed it behind me. Then it followed me off the exit. Then?—"

"Aria," Smith cut off. "It's all good, babe. Just get on 1 and we'll take it from there. What hotel did you stay at?"

"The Notary."

The car in front of me sped up to make the yellow light to exit. I followed suit riding the Nissan's bumper, praying the person didn't brake-check me for being a crap driver tailgating.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry," I chanted and slowed as soon as I made it through the intersection merging onto 1 south. "The Tesla didn't make the light."

"Good. Speed up to put some distance between you, but Aria, nothing crazy. He's gonna catch up to you and that's fine as long as he stays a few car lengths away. Now tell me where you stopped to get gas."

"Um. A Wawa next to Philly airport."

"Okay. Good. I'm gonna let you go so I can call this into the office and see who's in to pull footage. I'll?—"

"No!"

I hated how desperate I sounded. I hated what that said about me but I just needed Smith on the phone for a few more minutes.

"What's happening?"

My gaze snapped to the screen at Smith's demand. I knew I couldn't see him but his tone was commanding and firm. Neither of which I'd heard from him before. Both set my hormones on fire.

What was that about?

I glanced back at the road and admitted, "Nothing. I'm just feeling…" Needy. Scared . "Off."

"Listen to me. Everything's fine. You're fine. The likelihood of this person making a move while you're driving is slim. Very slim. Just drive and in less than forty-five minutes we'll meet up and I'll follow you home. I'm coming up to the Bay Bridge now."

He was right of course. The Tesla had been behind me for a while, and it hadn't done more than follow me. It was highly unlikely the person would try to run me off the road. Or maybe due to traffic, that hadn't been a possibility…yet.

The area around the mall was busy, there were lots of cars. Route 1 normally didn't have as much traffic as 95 unless it was a popular beach weekend, then you could be stuck for hours. But less traffic didn't mean no traffic. There would be other drivers on the road with me and this wasn't the movies. Some lunatic wouldn't run me off the road and kidnap me.

"You're right. I'm being silly."

"Don't do that, Aria," he rebuked. "There's nothing silly about being scared."

"I didn't say I was scared," I countered. "I said I was feeling off ."

"Tell me where the Tesla is." Smith let me off the hook.

I checked my rearview mirror.

"I'm at the stop light at Road A or Route 7, whatever this intersection is called."

"I know where you're at. Do you see the Tesla?"

"Yeah. Five cars back."

"How was the wedding?"

I frowned at the abrupt topic change but still answered.

"It was beautiful. My friend Lisa's a total control freak so, really, it couldn't go any other way and her husband Brendan is as laid back as they come so he just lets her do her thing knowing it makes her happy."

The light changed and I barely beat back laying on the horn when the car in front of me didn't immediately move.

"How long have you known Lisa?"

"She's a Navy Brat, same as me. Her dad's a pilot, too. We met in Japan and stayed close when her family PCS'd back to the states. I actually stayed with her family when I moved to Virginia for college." A quick glance in my side mirror confirmed the Tesla was still following me. "I'm merging onto 1. Light traffic. Should I gun it?"

Smith's deep, rich laugh filled my car, easing some of the tension in my chest.

"Easy, speed racer. All you need to do is keep up with the flow of traffic. Stay behind or next to other vehicles."

"I'm an excellent driver, Smith. I could outrun?—"

"Please don't turn this into a high speed chase," he interrupted. "Where'd you go to college?"

"I'll answer that but I feel the need to preface by telling you, while I appreciate the distraction, I know what you're doing."

"Well damn, and here I thought I was being smooth pulling one over on you."

The teasing in his tone made me smile.

"Sorry, Sailor, you'll have to do better than that if you wanna pull a fast one over on me."

Once again his laughter filled the car. I checked my speed making sure I was only ten miles per hour over the speed limit and keeping close to the car in front of me but not too close. I didn't bother looking for the Tesla. I knew what I'd find.

"Sailor? Quite the assumption."

"Please, I can smell a seamen?—"

"Christ," he bellowed before he burst out into a full-fledged fit of roaring laughter.

"I see I amuse you," I noted the obvious. "But seriously, the Navy is all I know. I've grown up on Naval and Air Force bases. I know the difference between an Airman and Sailor by sight. Most of the time I can call rate before I see the patch. It's like my superpower."

"Bet that'd be fun to watch."

"And don't get me started on Special Warfare. I can call a number or a color on sight."

That was a little white lie. It normally took me a bit of conversation or watching before I could tell if a SEAL was part of the Development Group denoted by colors or if he was part of the regular teams which would be a group number.

"I bet." He chuckled. "Those Team Guys are damn obvious."

"They totally are," I confirmed. "I'm a trash man or an ATM repairman spiel is a dead giveaway. That is, if the Suunto watch or the coyote Solomons don't announce it first. But really, it's how you all carry yourselves that announce your presence."

"You all?"

I chanced a look in the mirror and sure enough the Tesla was still back there in the distance.

Damn .

"See, you're old school," I told him. "No Suunto for you. But the beat up G-Shock on your wrist says it's seen some action. I'd guess it's a tried and true throwback from your time in the Teams. The Oakleys were also a giveaway. And you're a number, by the way."

Smith's answering chuckle did crazy things to my insides. If I wasn't currently involved in a non-high speed chase with a Tesla I would contemplate what it was about Smith that was so intriguing. It was more than his good looks, though he was hot as sin. It was more than the quick back-and-forth banter that came easy. And it was more than his flirtatious demeanor, though I totally dug that, too. It was something more but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Should I be offended? The way you say number makes me think we're a step down from DevGru."

Busted .

Though, I knew that wasn't a slip. If he didn't want to confirm I was right, he wouldn't have.

"Not at all. Color, number, all of you are badass."

"I'm curious, why do you think I was a number?"

Now I'd stepped in it and I couldn't explain without sinking knee deep so instead of answering I asked my own question.

"Why'd you leave?"

"How do you know I didn't retire?"

"You're not old enough to do a full twenty. Spit it out, Sailor, why'd you leave?"

"Now, darlin', that's more like a third date question," he quipped.

Which made me wonder what a date with Smith would be like.

"Is this when you explain to me the difference between your personal life and private life?"

"Damn, baby, I think I'm in love," he drawled.

I knew the comment was a throwaway meant in jest but damn if that didn't give me a shiver, especially him calling me ‘baby'.

"And here I thought it'd take more than that to have you worshiping at the altar that is me. Who knew you'd be so easy?"

Smith easily steered the conversation to my time in Japan. Then moved to where I went to college. He asked questions, I answered, he gave nothing more away about himself. Not surprising and I didn't push for personal information. I knew my way around a Sailor—in a strictly friendly way. I grew up surrounded by tight-lipped men who either didn't want to talk about their service or couldn't. So as disappointed as I was, I took no offense.

This lasted until I crossed the Maryland state line.

"I think he's exiting," I told Smith and slowed down. "The exit said Cecilton. You know, the exit with the weigh station."

"All right. I'm less than ten miles from you waiting in the turnaround."

301 was a divided highway with a grass median in the center of the North–South lanes. Knowing that Smith was waiting for me made me feel better than the Tesla pulling off the highway.

Almost there .

"Sorry I kept you?—"

"You apologizing tells me you haven't enjoyed the conversation as much as I have."

He sounded like he was being sincere, which was dangerous for my heart.

I shouldn't be thinking about Smith as anything more than a man who'd been sent by my father's friend to look into a potential issue. Therefore I certainly shouldn't've been hoping for more. But the man made it damn near impossible not to hope for something more.

Are we gonna continue to tempt fate with this back and forth?

I really, really wanted to tempt fate with Smith.