LITMIR.BIZ

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had finished his assignment, guarding a bank executive who had been receiving death threats for the last few weeks. The FBI had arrested the perpetrators, a group of thieves who had had significant success getting inside vaults by threatening the lives and families of the employees who had access.

      Ely admired the single-mom bank exec who’d had enough spine to finally step up and contact law enforcement. Several others before her had caved to the threats, and one of those had been killed during the resulting heist. Berringer had been brought in on protective detail in collaboration with the feds. It was a first for their small company, and a big step forward.

      Now it was over, but he was stuck in Norfolk for tonight, riding out the storm. The bar was a place he used to visit often. He didn’t recognize anyone here now, but there was someone he was looking out for.

      She was late tonight. Maybe the storm had her hunkered down elsewhere, but he hoped not. Human beings were tied to their rituals, and Chloe Roberts’s had always been to come to this particular bar on a Thursday night for a drink before heading home.

      He hadn’t seen or spoken with her in three years, since she’d interviewed him upon his return from Afghanistan and his award of the Navy Cross. The interview had been a chore—Ely didn’t care for publicizing his accomplishments—but the brass had insisted, said it would be good for recruitment.

      The night following the interview, however, had been much more satisfying.

      He’d hung out with Chloe for a few weeks, while he was in Norfolk, but realized too late that he’d read her all wrong. She came off as a modern, career-focused woman, the kind of woman you could spend a few nights or a few weeks with, but who had no expectations of more.

      In truth, she came from a large family herself, he discovered, and she wanted the whole package: a husband, kids, the white-picket fence. He didn’t realize that she had set her sights on him for the prize.

      Ely hadn’t made any promises, and they’d parted ways more or less amicably. More on his side, less on hers.

      He straightened as he saw her come in, her trench coat soaked, her umbrella bent all to hell. She struggled with it for a few minutes before throwing it into the corner in frustration.

      Looking up, her normally well-styled red hair was wild from the wind, and she froze as her eyes met his. He nodded in acknowledgment, indicating the open seat by his. She didn’t move for a moment, looking unsure. A couple folks called out greetings, and she broke the stare, returning the hellos.

      The removal of the traditional trench coat she always wore revealed the same bombshell body he’d enjoyed three years before. She hung her coat on the rack by the door and strolled over, her composure taking the place of her surprise at seeing him.

      “Ely,” she said with something that almost approached affection, leaning in to kiss his cheek before taking a seat. “What brings you here?” she asked.

      She didn’t need to order, the bartender delivered bourbon on the rocks for her without being asked. Ely knew it was top-of-the-line whiskey, and that on a normal evening she would nurse that one glass for two hours while poring over her notes.

      It was the same way she made love, he remembered all too clearly. Slow, thorough and with the utmost attention to detail.

      Some things really didn’t change, much like the rise in his blood pressure, and below his beltline, at the sight of her generous breasts underneath the dark blue silk blouse she wore.

      Maybe this was ill-advised, but he hadn’t felt like spending tonight with a stranger, even if all they did was have a drink.

      He was hoping for more.

      “Just finished a job, and any port in a storm,” he said, then winced at his poor choice of words. She didn’t seem to take offense.

      “It’s a bad one out there, but not the worst I’ve seen,” she said, holding her glass to full lips that needed no coloring. He’d always loved that she didn’t wear lipstick. He hated the stuff. “So you’re working with your brothers now?”

      “Yeah, personal security. How’d you know?”

      She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. Stupid question. She was one of the best news reporters in Hampton Roads, and she knew a lot about everything, and everyone, between here and the District.

      “I’d hoped you’d be here tonight,” he said bluntly, meeting her bright blue eyes, and also appreciating the way her damp curls clung to her cheeks.

      “Really?” she said, looking away. “Why’s that?”

      He smiled and took another sip from his beer, shaking his head. “Just finished a job that reminded me about how crazy stuff can be out there. I don’t know. I guess I wanted to spend some time with a friend,” he replied somewhat truthfully.

      “Friends? Is that what we were?” Her tone was somehow humorous, skeptical and suspicious all at the same time.

      “I hope so,” he responded, and decided to cut to the heart of it. “When jobs are done, the intense ones, sometimes it’s like …”

      “Hitting a wall? Like go-go-go then full stop?” she supplied.

      “Yeah,” he said. He knew she’d understand. “You’re on a constant adrenaline trip for weeks, not unlike combat in some ways. Then it just ends, and while that’s good, I—”

      “Have energy left to burn?” she asked.

      “Something like that.”

      “And you thought you might burn some off with me?” she asked, her voice hardening, and she shook her head. “No, thanks, Ely. I’m not interested in being another one of your pit stops.”

      She stood, ignoring her drink on the bar, turning to leave.

      Ely reached out, grabbing her arm gently, but firmly enough to stop her from walking away.

      “Hey. It’s not like that.”

      “That’s not how I remember it.”

      “I know. I wasn’t ready then. I was just back from Afghanistan, I hadn’t even seen my family in more than two years and when I was in the hospital, I wasn’t sure if I was going to see them again, period. I didn’t know how to get back to normal, whatever that was. You helped. I’m sorry I left like I did. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t know what I wanted.”

      “And I wanted too much,” she added.

      “Yeah.”

      Her stance softened a bit, and she looked back over her shoulder at him, but didn’t pull her arm away.

      “Looking for a second chance, Ely?”

      Was he?

      He’d been back in civilian life for three years. When he was in Kandahar, he hadn’t had a chance to think about the future. When he’d gotten back, he couldn’t stop thinking about the past. It had taken him a while to put it all behind him and accept that he even had a future, especially after he’d come close to being blown to bits.

      Eventually, he’d looked around him, around his life, at his own family, and realized he wanted more.

      Did he want more with Chloe? Is that really why he came here tonight? Hadn’t he been thinking about it for days? Maybe longer? A second chance to find out seemed right.

      “Yeah. Maybe, if you think we might have something worth taking a chance on,” he said, letting his hand slide down her arm to find her hand.

      She stood still for a minute, as if weighing her decision, and squeezed his hand, nodding.

      “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

      They walked out into the storm together, making their way to her car. When she opened the backseat door instead of the front, he paused, surprised, but then joined her, the storm surging around them as neither had any interest in waiting.

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