LITMIR.BIZ

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“Welcome home the conquering hero?”

      “Something like that.”

      Gideon had known Ford for years. Although Ford was a SEAL, they’d served together on a joint task force, and later, when Gideon had been left in his Taliban prison to rot, Ford had been one of those who had risked his life to get him out.

      “Come on back. I have to put on the next song.”

      They walked down the long corridor. “I can’t believe you own this place,” Ford said, following him into the control room. “It’s a radio station.”

      “Huh. That explains all the music.”

      Ford took the seat opposite Gideon’s. Gideon put on his headphones and flipped a switch.

      “This is my night for dedications,” he said. “I apologize for going digital for a second, but it’s the only way to cue up quickly. Here we go. Welcome home, Ford.”

      The opening of “Born to be Wild” began.

      “You really are a bastard,” Ford said conversationally.

      “I find myself an amusing companion.”

      Ford was about Gideon’s size. Strong and, on the surface, easygoing. But Gideon knew that anyone who had been to the places they’d been and done what they’d done traveled with ghosts.

      “What brings you out so late at night?” he asked.

      Ford grimaced. “I woke up and found my mom hovering over me in my room. Fortunately I recognized her before I reacted. I need to get out of there.”

      “So find an apartment.”

      “Believe me, I’m looking first thing in the morning. She begged me to wait, and I figured moving back home couldn’t be too hard. You know, connect with family.”

      Gideon had made the attempt once. It hadn’t gone well.

      “My brothers are okay,” Ford continued. “But my mom and my sisters are staying way too close.”

      “They’re glad you’re home. You were gone a long time.”

      Gideon didn’t know all the details, but he’d heard Ford had left Fool’s Gold when he was twenty and hadn’t been back much in the past fourteen years.

      Ford took a long swallow of his beer. “My mom’s already asking if I’ve thought of settling down.” He shuddered.

      “Not ready for a wife and the pitter-patter of little feet?”

      “No, although I wouldn’t mind getting laid.” Ford glanced at him. “You’re in trouble, by the way.”

      “I always am.”

      His friend laughed. “Felicia went after Justice this afternoon. She said he had no right to tell you to stay away from her. When she gets mad, it’s quite the show. Talk about a woman who can handle the big words.”

      “You know her?”

      “Not well. The first time I met her was in Thailand.”

      When both Justice and Ford had interrupted Gideon’s night with Felicia. Or rather the following morning. A polite way of saying they’d busted down the door and Justice had insisted on taking Felicia with him. Gideon had tried to go after her, but Ford had held him back.

      Gideon hadn’t seen her again until today. When she’d been fighting marauding spiders.

      “She was pissed at Justice?” he asked.

      Ford shook his head. “Leave me out of this. We’re not in high school, and I’m not passing notes in study hall or asking her if she likes you. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

      Gideon was tempted. That night had been memorable. She was an intriguing combination of determined, sexy and geeky. But he knew he wasn’t her type—he wasn’t anyone’s. To the untrained eye he looked as if he’d healed, but he knew what was underneath. He wasn’t a good relationship risk. Of course, if Felicia was looking for something less serious and more naked, he was all in.

      Ford finished his beer. “Mind if I bunk in an empty office?”

      “There’s a futon in the break room.”

      “Thanks.”

      Gideon didn’t bother mentioning it wasn’t that comfortable. For a guy like Ford, a ratty futon was just as good as a four-star hotel bed. In their line of work, you learned to make do.

      Ford dropped the bottle into the blue recycling bin, then headed down the hall. Gideon put in a CD, then searched until he found the right track.

      “You Keep Me Hanging On” began to play.

      * * *

      FELICIA HURRIED TOWARD Brew-haha. She was late, which never happened. She liked her life to be organized and calm. Structured. Which meant she always knew where she was going to be and what she was going to be doing. Being late was not part of her plan.

      But ever since she’d seen Gideon the day before, she’d been out of sorts. The man confused her. No, she thought as she walked by the park, her reaction to him confused her.

      She was used to being around physically powerful men. She’d worked with soldiers for years. But Gideon was different. The result of their sexual history, she thought. Percentage-wise, a single night was such a small part of a person’s life, yet it could have lasting impact. A trauma of any kind could stay with a person forever. But her time with Gideon had been wonderful, not traumatic. The memories of that night along with their meeting yesterday kept swirling in her head. As a woman who liked her brain as tidy as she liked her life, she was unprepared for being so unsettled.

      She paused to wait for the light so she could cross the street. As she stood, she saw a young mother with two small boys. They were maybe two and four, the youngest still a little unsteady as he ran across the grass. He came to a stop, turned and saw his mother and brother, then smiled broadly.

      Felicia stared greedily, absorbing the pure joy of the moment, the unselfconsciousness of the happy toddler. This was why she’d come to Fool’s Gold, she reminded herself. To be somewhere normal. To try to be like everyone else. To maybe even fall in love and have a family. To belong.

      For someone who had grown up as a whiz kid on a university college campus, normal sounded like heaven. She wanted what other people took for granted.

      The light changed, and she crossed quickly, aware of her lateness. Mayor Marsha hadn’t said why she wanted to meet and Felicia hadn’t asked. She’d assumed her skills were needed on a project of some kind. Maybe setting up an inventory system for the city.

      She walked through the open door into the coffeehouse. Brew-haha had opened a couple of months before. Hardwood floors gleamed as sunlight spilled through the big windows. There were plenty of tables, a nice selection of pastries and delicious caffeine in all forms.

      Patience, the owner and one of Felicia’s friends, smiled. “You’re late,” she said cheerfully. “I’m excited to know you have flaws. There’s hope for the rest of us.”

      Felicia groaned as her friend pointed to a table toward the back. Sure enough, Mayor Marsha Tilson and Pia Moreno were already seated there.

      “I’ll bring you a latte,” Patience added, already reaching for a large mug.

      “Thanks.”

      Felicia made her way through the tables toward the other women. Mayor Marsha, California’s longest-serving mayor, was a well-dressed woman in her early seventies. She favored suits and, during business hours, wore her white hair up in a classic bun. She was, Felicia thought wistfully, the perfect combination of competent and motherly.

      Pia, a willowy brunette with curly hair and a ready smile, jumped to her feet as Felicia approached. “You made it. Thanks for coming. It’s summer with what feels like a festival every fifteen minutes.

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