Page 61 of Glamour and Grit

Where is he? Possibly making rounds of the campground or something else outdoorsy and macho. Ernest Hemingway would love Dane. All action, no rumination on feelings.

The thing is, Dane can be sweet. Tender, even. But only when he really lets his guard down, which isn’t very often. I can almost feel the tragedy coming off of him. Something happened, before, during, or after his service. And given how little time he’s been a civilian, the third option doesn’t seem likely.

I heard from my cousin Emory that Harlowe and Dane’s father was an infamous criminal. High-end thievery, jewel heists, that sort of thing. I can only imagine what it would do to a kid growing up with a parent like that.

Plus, it’s not like going to war is easy on the human psyche. Even if Dane avoided catastrophe, he could still bear many scars that would take years to heal. If they ever do heal.

I’m not an idiot, nor am I a blushing virgin. Dane’s not the first emotionally unavailable man I’ve been involved with. The question is, will Dane open up to me eventually, or is this just the way things are going to be?

I feel his side of the bed. It’s clammy with sweat. I bet he had another nightmare. He could have woke me up and maybe I could have helped, but instead he decided to leave me here all alone.

My heart starts beating faster when I remember the Morenos are after me. Then I remember where we are. No way could they find us out here. Dane made sure no one followed us.

Once I feel safe again, my mind seizes upon Dane’s emotional distance. He’s opened up to me from time to time. Could there be hope he would make that the default instead of the exception?

Dane certainly scores high in many other ways, even if he is distant. He’s easy on the eyes, for one. He can get shit done, both in and out of the bedroom. I feel safe and seen and taken care of whenever Dane acts to protect me. I guess that means I trust him.

My eyes widen as I stare up at the ceiling. Shit, is that what’s going on? I’m so used to taking care of Justin, it feels weird to have a man take care of me? Do I have some kind of martyr complex?

Or maybe I’m trying to put all the blame on Dane, instead of on myself. Face it, Selene. You’re not the most emotionally available beast, either. You can talk for hours about the nuance between Sam Winston’s practical effects from genre to genre, but when it comes to the serious, emotional stuff?

That’s when I vanish. Or change the subject. I used to think I just didn’t want to talk about my fucked up family situation. Now I’m not so sure. I guess I’ve got more in common with Dane than I thought.

Speaking of Dane, where is he? If he needed to take a walk and cool his head, I get it, but he should have gotten back by now.

I’m dressed and out in the hallway in mere minutes, quietlypadding through the darkened cabin. I see no sign of Dane inside so I head outside. The evening breeze stirs my hair.

It’s peaceful. Too peaceful. Somewhere out there, Justin could be hurt. Suffering. And here I am, having sex with a hot former SEAL and enjoying an evening breeze. It doesn’t seem fair.

I shake my head in silent admonishment. This has been my mindset for a long time. It’s what leads me to letting Justin back into my life again and again, even though I know how it always turns out.

This time was different, though. Justin didn’t seem like he wanted to get me involved, and the Morenos are certainly a far more direct and physical threat than the usual problems that Justin brings into my life.

Something moves in the shadow, but I’m not afraid. It’s got to be Dane, finally finishing his rounds of the campground.

“Hey, you,” I say as he approaches.

“Hey.”

I freeze. That’s not Dane’s voice. Petty strides up to me, sweat glistening on his brow. I back away, inhaling a deep breath to let out as a scream.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Petty says, leveling a gun my way. I hadn’t even noticed he had it in his hand. “I’ve gone through enough goddamn trouble to lay hands on you.”

“You won’t kill me. Moreno needs me for something.”

“Nobody ever said he needed you alive, kid.”

His cold-blooded declaration freezes me solid. He could be bluffing. He probably even is. But can I take that chance?

I think I might have to. I don’t want to be at the mercy of the Moreno family. As if guessing my intentions, his eyebrows arch and his finger curls around the trigger.

“Try me, little girl. And if you’re in the mood to gamble with your life, you should probably think about your brother first.”

I gasp. “He’s alive?”

“Maybe,” he replies with a shrug.

“How did you even find me here?” I blurt.

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