Page 2 of Tactical Lies

As he approached the village where Becca lived, he fought against the urge to hold his breath, feeling like he was a kid all over again.

Wishing that he’d handled things differently, better, was pointless. The breakup of their relationship rested squarely on his shoulders, one hundred percent. He wasn't denying that, and he would tell Becca when he saw her.

But hedidwish he hadn't wasted so many years getting his head on straight.

Why had it taken learning that his mom had been gang raped while on a mission for the CIA and had fallen pregnant from the assault, resulting in his baby sister, for him to realize he had to go to Becca?

It was stupid of him and only added to the shame he felt.

If his dad had been alive to see how he’d treated Becca in the aftermath of her own vicious assault he would have torn him to shreds. His dad had been a calm guy, who never raised his voice and always disciplined them fairly, taking time to ensure they actually learned something rather than just punishing them.

Connor had a feeling this would have been the exception.

When the woman his dad loved had been raped and wound up pregnant, he’d stood by her side, supported her, and raised that child as though it were his own. Because from all his memories of life before his parents’ deaths, he couldn’t remember a single time that their dad had treated Cassandra any differently from how he’d treated him and his brothers.

Yet when the woman he loved had been raped and wound up pregnant, he’d panicked and ran. The fact he’d barely been twenty at the time made no difference. If he was old enough to know he was in love with Becca and wanted to marry and spend the rest of his life with her, he was old enough to stand by her no matter what.

This was why shame was the dominant emotion inside him as he spied the small village where Becca lived and worked. Set amongst the trees, it was comprised of small huts where fifty or so families lived. There was also a clinic that Becca and her team had built and managed, and a schoolhouse where they taught the village’s children, again built and managed by Becca and her team. There were no stores, what the people couldn’t grow themselves, they bought from the nearest larger village about fifty or so miles away. There were no cars, electricity, sewage, or running water, but from what he’d learned, Becca’s team had generators brought in. People walked or rode in small carts pulled by donkeys, and small farms littered the landscape.

It was like stepping back in time.

Knowing this was the life Becca had chosen for herself, that she wasn't just good at what she did but loved it and was making a difference doing it, filled him with so much pride it nudged a little of the shame out.

A burst of childish laughter suddenly filled the air, and as he watched, a group of children rushed out of what must be the school. They were all giggling and chattering, and as he got closer, he saw a woman step out the door, watching the little ones with a smile on her face.

He froze.

Long, inky black hair hung in a braid down the woman’s back. Dressed in a white tank top that showed off her toned arms, and a simple pair of cotton pants that hung to her sneaker-covered feet, he didn't have to be close enough to see her face to know who it was.

Becca.

His Becca.

His moonlight.

Between her midnight blue eyes and her silky black locks, the pale skin of her face had always reminded him of the moon, and the nickname had popped into his head not long after they went on their first date when they were fourteen.

Now her pale skin was tanned, likely from spending most of her time outdoors, and as her head turned in his direction, he saw even from twenty-odd feet away the sudden tension in her body, the sweet smile he was used to seeing on her suddenly gone, he realized how little he knew about this woman.

This Becca. The one she’d turned into over the twelve long years since he’d broken her heart. He also realized how deeply he craved learning everything about who she was now. Connor wanted to know every single thing there was to know about her, all her secrets, all the things that made her sad, all the things that made her angry, and all the things that brought her joy.

He wanted it all.

But from the tension rolling off the woman watching him, he knew she wanted the complete opposite.

August 16th

12:00 P.M.

Surely, she was seeing things.

Because there was no wayhewould be there.

Becca Marsden stared at the man standing not even twenty feet away from her and seriously pondered the possibility that she had died or was currently hallucinating.

Anything made more sense than the idea that Connor Charleston was in Cambodia.

What on earth would bring him here?

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