Page 25 of Under Control

Within a minute after tying up his oxblood leather modern-styled dress shoes, he jumped out of the truck to collect Danica. They had little time left if they were going to get to the wedding and fly under the radar with the rest of the guests. That was the plan, after all—a show of face and a quick, quiet exit, keeping up appearances that everything was fine before he helped Danica figure out her next steps.

She was onto something. They needed time to plan her escape.

Danica looked up at him, tucking a lock of shiny brown hair behind her ear as he approached. Her long hair was almost down to her waist and had developed a beautiful, natural soft wave to it as they’d gotten closer to the ocean air.

But that wasn’t all he noticed. There was something different about the way she looked at him as he stomped toward them in his blue suit, smoothing back his hair until it obeyed.

“Take a picture,” he grunted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “This doesn’t happen often.”

“You need a shave.” Delta leaned back, looking at his friend. “Maybe some sleep.”

Carrick rubbed his five-o-clock shadow, which had turned more into a two-day shadow. His dark, overgrown stubble and quickly styled hair made him look exactly how he’d looked jumping off the plane after a deployment. All he needed was a flesh wound, but then again, he already had that on his forearm, compliments of the mountain lion.

“Ready to go?” Carrick looked at Danica as she stood before him in her slinky black dress. He bit his tongue, not wanting to let his friend in on how deep his attraction was to her. He preferred Delta not know that he was right.

She nodded quickly, darting her gaze to the passenger side of the truck.

“You kids have fun now.” Delta offered a shallow grin then shot a pissed-off look at Carrick. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That isn’t much,” Carrick scoffed.

“Difference between me and you is that I can pull it off.”

As Danica started walking around the pickup with raised eyebrows, Carrick leaned forward to share some parting words with Delta.

“Fuck off.”

Delta shook his head, grabbed his keys out of his pocket and turned to head out.

Spinning back to the driver’s side of the truck, Carrick yanked on the door handle after he straightened his white open-collar dress shirt under his navy-blue jacket in the exterior paint’s reflection.

Even for a wedding, he wasn’t going to put on the tie.

Fuck that.

As Carrick whipped open the truck door, an unfortunately timed memory flashed to the front of his mind. Two years ago, his beautiful fiancée had been grinning back over her shoulder at him, asking him if he was seriously going to refuse to wear a tie on their wedding day. Wouldn’t he make an exception just once? He remembered that they’d been at their condo on Coronado Island, a stone’s throw from the West coast SEAL base. And in the memory, Carrick was grumbling back to her while reading the morning news and drinking coffee. Since when had planning a wedding been so divisive? Wasn’t it supposed to betheirday? Her gentle laughter in response punctured the moment, and Carrick found himself leaning against the truck door, winded.

Sucking in Santa Monica’s dry, coastal air, he heard Danica’s distant voice inside the truck, asking if he was okay. Carrick shook his head, regaining himself. Christ, the day was cracking up to be worse than yesterday, and the real fun was yet to come. It wasn’t just ties that he didn’t do. He didn’t do weddings either.

Not since Lauren had died.

Not since their wedding had never fucking happened.

Chapter Ten

Carrick

I shouldn’t have driven a pickup truck here, Carrick chastised himself as he approached the Bel Air Bay Club just north of LA. Every other vehicle lined up for the wedding’s valet parking was some luxury car that was worth more than a Navy SEAL’s salary, war money and retention bonuses included. They were in ‘fucking rich-boy country’ now, alongside the Pacific Ocean, not far from Malibu or Beverly Hills.

“What are you doing?” Danica said quickly as he pulled out of the lineup and drove toward the staff parking lot. “I don’t think you are allowed to do that.”

Lush green gardens shielded them from further onlookers as they pulled around the corner of the massive white stucco and glass clubhouse.

“We have to keep a low profile, Dani,” he explained, watching over his shoulder as some guy in a white uniform came running out to talk to them.

Carrick rolled down the window and smiled at the club’s harried employee, casually slipping a one-hundred-dollar bill into the guy’s hand.

“Can I park here?” he asked knowingly, seeing the employee nod quickly. “I’m not a valet kind of guy.”

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