Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 65041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“So what do you do, Jace?”
“Bunny—”
“I’m already a target, according to you. I have nothing left to lose. You want me to trust you? Then you’re going to have to tell me the truth. Who are you, G.I. Joe?”
I wanted to provide her the only security I could, which only put her life in more danger, and trust me, the irony was not lost on me. Despite feeling uneasy about telling her who I was, I answered her persistent question as if I was a man on death row, and in some cases, I was. This was one of them.
Looking deep into her eyes, I shared the truth of my identity for the first time…
“I’m a contract killer, Cove.”
Twelve
Jace
Then: Tony’s funeral
He was gone.
Forever.
Never coming back.
I watched from the door of their bedroom as Hope, his now widowed fiancée, stared at her black dress on their bed that I knew she bought for his funeral. She told me yesterday morning she wanted something she could throw away after wearing it. Something she would never have to look at again.
I’d been staying in their guest bedroom since I landed late the night prior. I only had a three-day leave of absence to present his family with his dog tags and flag at his service that afternoon. His wake was scheduled for that morning.
She’d been staring at it for the last hour, dreading to put it on. I knew because I also dreaded wearing my crisp, white Navy SEAL dress uniform. This was all happening. We were preparing to say goodbye to a man we both loved.
For the second time in what felt as if it were simply a couple of minutes, I wore my dress uniform for a funeral for yet another person who was like family to me.
In the blink of an eye, everything that happened in the last couple of days flew by at rapid speed through my mind. I had no control over it, which was the worst thing for a man like me.
“You don’t have to wear that, Hope,” I announced, leaning against the doorframe with my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
She turned with her tear-stricken face, staring right at me. Almost like she could see inside me, and we were one and the same.
“You can wear whatever you want. Tony would want it that way.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can put anything on. It doesn’t matter what it is or how it looks or feels. Ultimately, I know what it’s for, so it doesn’t change anything,” she whispered so low I could barely hear her.
She looked at me with an expression I also knew far too well. Tony was like another brother to me.
But I couldn’t protect him.
Save him.
He died because of me.
“I’ll help you get through this day,” I coaxed, walking toward her.
She was in shock.
Disoriented.
Grief was one hell of an emotion.
I tried to focus on all the times we were together. I knew Hope through him, and since he talked about her often, she felt like family to me too.
Once I stood in front of her, I placed my hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing in reassurance.
“I’m so sorry, Hope.”
“I don’t think I can do this, Jace.”
“You can, and you will. Let me help you.”
Doing what I had to do, I grabbed her black dress off the hanger and told her to lift her arms, so I could gently ease it down her body before helping her with her shoes next. Nothing about what I was doing was sexual. I was merely helping his fiancée’s distress for a day filled of pure agony and regret.
After I helped her get ready, I stood in front of her and swept her hair from her face.
“You look beautiful, Hope.”
“I don’t feel beautiful.”
When we heard her mother yell for us, I grabbed her hand, murmuring all sorts of reassuring things to her.
“What’s going to happen now?”
“We’re going to say goodbye to Tony.”
“What about our baby? I don’t have a job—”
“I promised Tony I’d take care of the both of you, okay? Don’t worry about anything. I’m here for you.”
She faintly nodded. “Okay.”
During the funeral, I stood in a trance-like state for the service until it was time to do my duty to the best friend I’d ever known.
Handing Hope the flag, I expressed, “On behalf of the president of the United States, the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”
She broke down, and I swear I felt two feet tall instead of six-four. There was nothing but an empty feeling deep in whatever remained of my soul.
After the funeral was over, I stayed there, watching as they shoveled dirt onto Tony’s new home. For the rest of the day, I didn’t move an inch from his grave until nothing but darkness surrounded me, making me feel like I died as well.