TERRY

Sometimes we get so fuckin' caught up in our own lives, what we do and why we're doin' it, that we forget to just live. It didn't take long for me to get the information out of Dino. Fact is, he was even kinda proud of Biebe, doing what he did, marrying Riles. So was I. Good onya, mate.

Riles. Little Sister. My Gamer. Made me smile. She deserved to be happy, bloody happy. But as I sat in a New York hotel killing time before my flight home to Dallas, I started counting months on my fingers. Jesus. They got married in April. It was already fuckin' October. Where the hell's my head? I still hadn't called or even congratulated them. They must think I'm a bloody prick, ignoring them for so long. But truth is; I'd been all over the fuckin' world since then. We've been busy. Real busy.

Not a good enough excuse. Not by a long shot.

I called the airline and canceled my flight home, glad I wouldn't have Lachlan to deal with. Hell, he'd probably been all over the newlyweds, have a few choice words for me for not even talking to them yet. In my head, they hadn't done a fucking thing wrong. It was time. Time for them and I was pleased Biebe had the bullocks to do it.

Four P.M. If I rented a car, I could be in Vermont before seven. Maybe get a room in the now finished Inn. My curiosity was peaked. Had she pulled it off? Made that old house into something spectacular? Fuck yeah she had and I was itchin' to see it. Tossed everything in my bag and headed out, but not before I dialed the Inn. Wouldn't be right to just show up. I wanted a room, after all.

A sweet woman answered the phone and gave me a reservation for the next two nights. Then I asked.

"Hey, love. Riley available?" I assumed she'd be in the kitchen, working her pretty little arse off but maybe they could alert her and I could chat with my Gamer.

"Oh, no Mr. Thorne. She's resting."

Resting? Red flags flew all over inside my head. "She okay?"

"Ah, pregnancy, you know." Her voice was light and happy.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Yeah, I know. See ya in a few hours, love."

Ha! You'd have thought I'd planted the little thing inside Riley, I was so thrilled. Jumped in the car and headed for the first baby store I could find.

It didn't occur to me how John would take my showin' up until I walked in and saw him, standing at the reception desk, his head lowered, talking on the phone. There I was, in the beautiful lobby, a mammoth Teddy Bear in one arm and three loaded shopping bags of baby stuff, spinning like a top. Un-fuckin'-believeable. The place was even better than I'd imagined.

I strolled to the pretty woman at the desk and nodded toward John, who was still not looking up, still focused on the register book and not noticing me. She grinned then left the desk. His finger shot up and I waited like a good patron.

"Yeah, that's seven days, mountain view suite starting on November twentieth. Looking forward to having you here." Finally he hung up and his eyes settled on the bear before they rose to me.

"G'day, mate." I was smiling. He wasn't.

"Terry. Ah, what are you doing here?"

Fuck, Biebe was in jealousy mode, and that looked even worse now that he was married. Cleared my throat. "Just stopped in to say . . . well, congratulations, John." I shrugged and the bear shrugged with me.

JOHN

Holy Fuck! What the hell was he doing here? Well, fuck yeah, I could see why, all that baby stuff, but . . .

"Thanks," I grunted. Then I did something I didn't even know I was gonna do. I walked around the desk, took his arm and led him out onto the porch. Too many people around, so I started to lead him down the steps.

"Hey, hey. John. Listen, mate. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. No excuses. I'm just -- "

I grunted. Yeah, he should be sorry but fuck, it's not like I'd been doing much keeping in touch either. I nodded toward the gazebo and he hauled that stuff, bear and all with him, dropped it onto the bench but wouldn't sit, so I did. Trying to look cool, I stretched my arms out across the back of the bench and just waited. For what I have no clue. He didn't say a word.

"You just surprised me Terry, that's all. Didn't expect to ever hear from you again."

"Why?"

I shrugged, glanced around, hoping Sigrine was covering the front desk again. I turned to the giant bear. "How'd you find out?"

Terry smiled, finally sat across from me. "The shiela who took my reservation told me."

"Ah, and how much do you know?"

"What's there to know, mate? I know you, know how you feel 'bout kids. Wanted to stop by and tell ya how pleased I am for ya."

There was that sly Thorne grin that drives me up the fucking wall. But it's a big cover and I knew it. I groaned and scratched my chest. "Terry, um.

"Hey, if you don't want me to see her, I'll just drive back to New York. No bloody big deal."

God sakes, that's not what I meant at all. "It's not that. Terry . . . uh . . . Riley's not doing so well."

He sat straight, an alert glare in his eye. "How so?"

"It's, um, complicated. She's restricted to bed rest. Up in the suite."

"Fuck, John. How bad is it?"

"It could be bad. You know Riles, it's driving her nuts to stay put, but I think she's accepted it. She cries. A lot. Not like she'd be content reading or something. Sleep has never been her strong suit."

"Fuck."

I was feeling sick, suddenly realizing that it was good to have my brother there to tell it all to. "Baby's high, pulling at a bad place. We could . . . we could lose it."

Terry's eyes dropped. "Fuck, John. I'm so sorry. What can I do for ya?"

"Well," fuck, was I crying again? You'd think I was the one dealing with hormones. "I think you should go up and see her. Talk to her. Maybe keep her company until I can bring dinner up for us all."

He stood, grabbed the bear and bags and charged toward his car.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" I spouted as he opened the trunk and tossed everything inside.

"Mate," he slammed it closed. "If it's that bad, the last fuckin' thing I want is for her to be lookin' at baby stuff."

"No, fuck no Terry. You don't get it. Riles and me, we're looking at this as positively as we can. We're doing our fucking best to believe this is going to turn out fine."

"Yeah, I can tell." He tucked his hands in his pockets and watched my face. "You're fuckin' scared to death."

"Yes I am, but not in front of her. Help me with this Terry. We need to hold on to even the slimmest chance that we're gonna have a healthy baby. And somewhere deep inside I really think we might. She's doing her best to believe it too."

It took a while, but he finally opened the trunk and tugged the bear out. "All right mate, let's go upstairs."

TERRY

I don't know what I was expecting. A warm welcome after not even sending a fuckin' greeting card? Maybe a shiner thanks to Biebe's legendary jealousy? Certainly not what I was hearing. I braced myself and followed him through the lobby and up the stairs, never noticing the place, just worrying. Worrying about Riley, John's wife and my dear friend.

When we entered their apartment, Monica was sitting on the sofa flipping through some culinary magazine and she gave me the same bloody look John had. "Terry?"

"G'day, Monna."

"Nice bear," she smiled then turned to John. "She's actually sleeping. Can you believe it?"

He patted her shoulder. "Thanks, sweetheart. Terry's going to sit with her till I get off. Tell Jeff I'll be down in a few minutes, will ya?"

"Jeff?" I asked after Monica left. "You got Wigand here?"

"Yeah, he's helping out, managing the place till Riley's back on her feet. Until after her maternity leave." He was already putting on a show for his sleeping wife. He had the routine down pat, even smiled as he said it. As if she could hear him even in her sleep.

He led me to the bedroom and my fuckin' heart cracked. I've never seen her physically broken. Emotionally, yeah. But this? I sat in the big overstuffed chair near the bed and never even heard him leave.

A thousand things rolled through my head. How long had it been since I'd seen her? I spent some time there when John was laid up after his accident. She was strong, so fucking strong for him. Made me proud. A real survivor. Shit, I rubbed my eyes; it was an honor to know her and have had the unique opportunity to love her a bit too.

My Gamer, always with the challenges. All I ever wanted to do was give her a reason to smile. Lord knows she never had my heart, not the biggest part of it, but that's the way we lived our lives. Sharing. Odd, rubbing my eyes like that, I was amazed. The pull. It was gone. I never had it real strong for Riley, I loved her for other reasons. She'd have been an attraction even without that life. There were other things that drew me to her. Her genuine friendship. Her resilience, her strength. But did she have enough to get through what lay ahead? Fuck, I hoped so.

"It's not as bad as all that, Terry," I heard her sweet voice. As I opened my eyes, she was stretching her arms high and smiling, looked like Vivian Leigh in Gone with the Wind for a moment there. "Please, leave the dramatic stuff for John." And she giggled. Fuck, I couldn't help but joining in.

"How are ya, Gamer?"

"Hug me, Terry and I'll tell you everything."

I did.

RILEY

"You're not surprised to see me?" Terry asked, his hand holding mine after the gentle hug. I hate gentle hugs, but they were all I got from anyone lately.

"Why would I be surprised?"

He groaned, leaned back in the chair and tilted his head. "Everyone else is."

"They don't know you the way I do. I knew it was almost time for you to drop your armor. I was expecting it."

"My armor, love?"

"You really don't know you have armor, do you Terry?"

His eyes dropped, watching his tightly gripped hands resting in his lap.

"It's the Thorne dehumanizing armor. I've been lucky enough to see it fall a few times, and it was spectacular. All that natural sweetness you keep hidden, pouring out and making me feel special."

"You are special, Gamer."

"No, I'm not. Look at me Terry. I'm not even normal enough to just have an average pregnancy." I was fighting tears, the last thing I wanted to be doing was wasting the little time I'd have with him, crying like a baby.

"Riley," he said, reached over and plopped a humungus fuzzy bear onto his lap, almost hiding his face from view. "I've never known you to do anything the easy way, love. Why start now?"

"Oh, that is gorgeous! You know, we are short a bear here. What's his name?"

Terry hid behind the toy's giant head. "My name is whatever you like, little mum."

"I think I'll call it Uncle Terry."

He immediately set the stuffed animal aside and sat close on the bed, taking me into a real hug and letting me sob in his arms. "It's all right, Riles. Cry all ya like. Everything is gonna be fine. Just fine."

JOHN

Ever have one of those days, ay? You know, when everything is a fucking challenge? It was almost nine o'clock and there was still a crowd outside the restaurant waiting for seating. Andy, Jeff and I were negotiating exactly what to do to avoid that in the future, and not one of us could agree.

"Can't just stay opened all night," I said.

"But we should keep the kitchen open as long as we need to, mate. Shouldn't be turning people away." That little gem from Andy. Hell, he was only feeling so great because Monna had the time to help out. His comment might have been real different if he was deep in the weeds.

Jeff pushed his glasses up his nose. "Either way, we'll have to deal with it tonight, but John, the policy's just going to have to change. Reservations only, starting tomorrow morning."

"Moolay's gonna blow a gasket, mates. You know how accessible she wanted this place to be." Andy was pissed, plating a ten top as we talked.

"Andy, that's all well and good, and trust me, this will settle," Jeff turned to me. "It's the newness. This frenzy will wear off as soon as the next new restaurant opens in town, trust me."

Fuck, that wasn't what I wanted to hear either. I shook my head. I'd fucking heard enough. "You two take care of this; just let me know the final verdict. I've got guests to console; they've been waiting over and hour."

"Offer them free dessert!" I heard them both call to me as I pushed through the swinging doors.

What a day! First thing, even before breakfast, I had to boot a guest out on his bouncing credit card ass. We'd lose three days fees, but at least we could recoup quickly.

Next problem showed up right on the heel of that one, when a new guest arrived with her husband . . . . who turned out to be a rather large, male bulldog named Peabody. Not the first strange old woman we've ever had stay with us. Okay, I can deal, after all, we have Sophie roaming the grounds constantly and we had built-in charges for pet repairs and cleaning. So I had to call the dog her husband, so what. What I didn't like was Peabody's intense interest in Sophie. Last thing I needed was two pregnant women under my roof, God sakes. Poor Sophie was relegated to her crate on the landing, safe behind bars.

Three call offs, a housekeeper I had to send home sick, one nasty cut on the pantry girl's thumb that required three stitches (at least the sweetheart was nice enough to come back after her hospital ordeal, although I can't imagine how much good she was going to be), and Terry's surprise arrival. When I finally seated the last twelve dinner guests in the dining room, I found myself walking, no, jogging, no, actually running at a good clip from the Inn and straight for the pond.

When I reached it, I didn't even look around. Fuck, that's one of my favorite places on the property, but I was tight as a drum. I paced then trudged the entire distance around the pond at least twice before I stopped to see where the hell I was. I glanced up at the beautiful Inn, spotted the lights in my suite glowing high over the treetops. Thank God Terry was there, because if I had to sit still and smile another minute I thought I fucking explode. Again I ran, then jogged, then finally slowed to a walk around and around the pond until my leg would take no more. I dropped onto the cool ground and let my head fall onto the grass. Looked up at the stars.

It was gonna be a cold night, but hell, it was about time. October. Soon we'd be seeing snow. It always starts early in Vermont. I ran a hand through my sweaty hair and squeezed the bridge of my nose.

What the fuck was I doing? What did I think I'd be able to do? Riley's condition aside, I was no fucking Innkeeper. Yeah, I loved the place and the concept of it. I loved the hysterical situations I get to see, but Jesus. I'm an ex-sheriff and an ex-hockey player, God sakes. What the fuck made me think I could be any good at this at all?

Not one decision I'd made since we arrived in Vermont felt exactly correct. And if Riles wasn't part of it, man, I was so far off the mark I might have been driving blind. It was Riley. It was the lack of her input. And why again were we doing that? I sat up, brushing dry leaves from my hair and shaking off the chill. Why were we shutting her out again? I forgot. I stood with a groan and did one more limping lap around the pond, really thinking hard this time.

I didn't want her to worry. Now, was that one of my own hair-brained decisions or was that really the right one? Was she worried anyway? Would a little daily update on how things were going really be such a terrible thing, or would it ease her mind? Maybe make her feel better? It sure would make me feel better. Fuck I missed her quick humor and solid advice about everything I was facing day in and day out.

Great, I sighed and turned to the Inn, heading for the back entrance and my wife. But at the door, I stopped. Was this a wrong choice? Should I talk with Doc Conklin about it? The resounding answer in my head was fuck no. It was my decision, made for the woman I know is crying because she's lost touch with me and her whole world, and it was the absolute correct decision.

Right decision, not the best time. My watch said ten thirty! Ten fucking thirty! I needed to watch the bar till midnight when my night floor manager was going to be available, all backed up from the crowd at the dining room keeping his attention. The bar tender was new, inexperienced and female. Not usually a problem, but in Vermont? Not happening. I'd play bouncer and chaperone till Mickey could get downstairs. Ah well, maybe I could get a little company in the bar, my brother should be ready for a beer.

TERRY

I was stretched out long beside her, fully clothed and on top of the blankets and Riles, trundled beneath the sheets and quilt was in my arms, her head cradled on my chest. She kept trying to explain this concept of armor that made no sense to me. I am what I am. I'm that way because of what I do. And I do what I do because I'm good at it. It's not like I'm the General. I could understand a connection with Max and armor. But me?

"Still not buying it, Gamer. Are ya testing my conceptual brain power? Is this another one of your challenges?" I ran my hand over her hair, tenderly brushing fingers across her cool brow and tugged the blankets up over her bare forearm that felt chilled to me.

"No, just making an observation. I'm thinking maybe you and John are more alike than you think. The difference is, you have perfected your armor, having to console terrified families facing horrible situations has made you real good at it. But John? Let's just say his armor is more like . . . um . . . cheesecloth."

I chuckled at that. Yeah, Biebe has always been a bit of a softie, but only where she's concerned. Hell, I've seen him beat the living shite outa some bloke for doing something that just seemed illegal or inappropriate. I've seen him on drunken binges and I've seen him stoic as all hell while recovering. He's a bit of a kaleidoscope, Biebe. Deceit was never something he was good at, it's the lawman in him.

"He's got a tough side, love. He'd die before he'd ever let ya down."

She turned her sweet face up to me. "I don't want him to do that, Terry. I don't want anyone to do that for me. Remember when you were hurt?"

I grimaced.

"You told me you were sick of getting head. Head? Jesus, Terry, head! All those women wanting to satisfy and please you and love you and you were sick of it."

"I was."

"So, you never learned from that."

"Yeah, Gamer I learned. I promised you I'd listen to what ya told me and do my best."

"And what did I tell you?"

"To start accepting."

"Any luck with that?"

"Well, love. I'm still here, lettin' ya lecture me, right?"

I was surprised. She didn't even grin at that. She sighed deeply then whispered.

"Odd. You are still here. And it's not even for the sex."

I glanced down at her baffled expression. "Riley, did you ever think it was for the sex?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I always thought that deep down inside, you all just put up with me because . . ."

Shaking my head I sat up then finally paced the length of the big bed.

"Sorry," she said softly.

"Look at me Riles. Do you really think our friendship revolved around your pussy? Around whether I could get my cock into it? We've had five visits. But how many times have we been together? Together, Gamer? In the same room? Alone, like right now and we didn't have sex? Do you even know?"

Her head shook and she was blinking back a flood of tears.

"At least another five, no six times. Bloody hell, were ya thinking I didn't want ya? Did you know what was really happening?"

"Well, those were times you were just talking to me because I was scared or weak or--"

I knelt near her face. "Jesus, you were never scared or weak or anything else, woman. You were my mate, my Gamer. You are fuckin' special to me and I'll always be here for you. And do ya know why?"

I kissed away a tear dangling at the tip of her nose.

"Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you," I pressed a fingertip over her heart. "You Gamer, will always be there for me. For those times I need to set down that fuckin' armor I don't even have." And I smiled. My stomach growled and we chuckled. "What time is dinner 'round here?"

"Usually John is home by seven, but it must be really hopping downstairs. Oh man, I wish I could see it."

Around nine, Monica arrived with a tray of food and an apology. She talked as quietly as she could, explaining the severe overbooking in the dining room and how something had to be decided before it became a nightly occurrence. I nodded, then as if on cue like she has E.S.P. or something, Riley called from the bedroom.

"Monna, close the dining room and ask Doc to arrange reservations at Nicholas', they're kitchen hours are past ten. Tell Andy to shut down the kitchen and ask John to give gift certificates to all the waiting patrons. The 'buy one entrée get one free' certificates. And please, tell them not to give away a free dessert!"

Monica looked at me. "Too late," she mouthed.

JOHN

I begged Monna to sit with Riles for a while (didn't take too much begging as it required her to sit, poor girl had been running since breakfast), and called Terry to come down and meet me in the pub. It was the newest addition to our Inn, built in the left tower basement and I couldn't help but remember how crowded the space originally was, filled corner to corner with a huge monster of a furnace. Now it was crowded with people. Been in the middle of crowds all day but this time I didn't care. I wanted beer.

Terry walked in wearing jeans and a dark blue sweater. Guess he managed to get to his own room and change. I'd had his bags taken there, wasn't chancing him undressing in my fucking suite. That thought made me chuckle, I was still laughing when he joined me at the end of the bar.

"What's so funny, mate?"

"Nothing," I lied, realizing that I was still jealous of men wanting my wife, I just felt a bit more secure knowing she was pregnant and off limits. Hell almost off limits to even me. But rather than let that thought get me down, I handed my brother a Vermont pilsner and raised my glass.

"To healthy babies," Terry said and several of the patrons cheered and guzzled right along with us. "Everything okay? Get through the overbooking fiasco?"

"Fuck no. Terry, I have no fucking clue what the hell I'm doing."

He nodded, grinning into his brew. His eyes wondered. "This is nice; don't recall this as part of the original plans."

"We weren't expecting to get a liquor license, or an opportunity to be sole distributor for a new micro brewery about ninety miles outside of Stowe. It all just happened fast. Neat deal." I turned on my stool. "Everything in here was salvaged from old Victorian mansions and businesses all over the North East. Pulled together nice," I grinned. "Keeps me from driving up the mountain drunk."

"When was the last time ya got drunk, John?"

Fuck, busted. "Months ago."

"And the last time ya drove under the influence?"

"Never," I slumped. Sometimes I hate being a boy scout.

Terry chuckled and rubbed my back. "This pub kinda reminds me of a place I love."

"Dallas?"

"Nope, England. My favorite pub for after a jump, mate."

"Like from a plane?" That smug grin again. Well, I guess he has a right to feel smug.

"It was called 'Old Dog's'. Lots of memories there."

I couldn't imagine his memories, only mine. There was an 'Old Dog's' in my past, too. A Canadian place where you got snookered playing snooker. Man, that was a long time ago. Over twenty years ago. Before marriage, a family, being a sheriff, crossing and, fuck, doing it all over again I guess. But I was glad I got married again, thrilled there's a baby on the way and even happy we had a thriving business. The Inn had a life of its own, turning out to be just like its creator, and overachiever.

"So, what did you and Riles have to talk about all these hours?" We'd both turned our focus to the whiskey bottle display adorning the mirrored shelves behind the bar. I figured he'd just ignore the question, but he actually answered. While he talked, I watched his reflection.

"Ya know, mate. Stuff. Same stuff we always talked about with some fuckin' new twist I'll never figure out."

"Yeah?"

"Armor. Armor? What the hell is she talkin' about John? Is she sayin' I'm not open? Fuck, I try, ya know."

I nodded. Terry did more than try; he tried till he got it. I kinda understood that about him. But if Riles thinks Terry's a guarded sort of guy, she was dead right. I wasn't elaborating. Let him figure that out himself. I had a dinner reservation only policy I needed to deal with. Was that gonna be my responsibility? Making, confirming and scheduling as many as five hundred dinner reservations a day? Fucking made my head spin, so I tuned back in on Terry's voice.

"She's doin' good, John. Yeah, she floats in and outa the depression stuff, but you know how pregnancy is. Women do that. We talked about the future, this place, what she'd like to see happen. Talked about us, me and her," his eyes caught mine in the mirror.

"Talked about friendship, about love. About sex and how it had so little to do with it. And we talked about the pull. John, have ya noticed? It's gone. I don't feel it at all with Riley."

I blinked. I'd been so focused on Riles and our life, I never noticed.

"Do ya feel it at all with Monna? Cause it's driving me bonkers, mate."

"No, I thought it was just me, so preoccupied."

"You left; Colin and Nat left. Chances are the pull is dissipating if you're no longer in it."

"No, no. Col said he was still feeling it for Riles."

"You feel it for Nat? When ya see her?"

I shook my head and Terry chuckled. "Always suspected that what Col feels for Riles was a plain, simple, old fashioned crush."

I turned a glare.

"Fuckin' glad I never had a crush on her, John."

"What do you feel for her?"

He swiveled his stool, squared to me. "I love her, John. Always have, always will. She's among my best fuckin' mates and," he sipped beer. "If ya wanna get technical, she was my lover before she was yours. And my friend before she was your wife." He held out his hands. "Gonna flatten my arse?"

I huffed then shook my head. "So, no pull huh?"

"No. It was never about the pull with Riles. She's a fuckin' gem, I'm bloody lucky to know her. I don't wanna fuck your wife, John. But I do intend to retain a friendship that means a lot to me." He waved to the blonde bombshell bartender for another beer. "So, now ya gonna flatten my arse?"

I didn't move a muscle.

"Either you're gettin' soft, Biebe . . . or you're figuring out who really does care about you two. Wigand. Andy and Monica. Nat and loverboy. I got no good excuse for taking so long to get over here and I can't be sure when the next time will be. But you know how to reach me if ya need me, mate."

"That goes both ways, Terry."

"Now," he leaned close. "What do I gotta do to get Monna to ask for me?"

Mickey slid behind the bar and gave me a nod. I stood and gulped the last dregs of my pilsner. "I'll send her down then you're on your own, buddy. Night."

What a blow to Terry's ego, ay? When I extended his invitation to join him in the pub, Monica opted to climb in bed with her tired partner and sleep the night away.

TERRY

Of course I didn't expect Monica. Poor girl works from sun up till just before the next sun up. I was enjoying the pub though. Took a quiet booth in the corner and watched the goings on. Wondered if John really knew what he and Riles had created there. Well yeah, in the whole Inn, but in that one room pub there was something special going on. If I closed my eyes all the voices would morph into remembered echoes and old conversations. I was doing just that when I thought to check my watch. Nearly two.

Looked up and was shocked. I swear I was hearing a crowd, laughing and singing, chattering away about this and that. But the fucking room was almost empty. The pretty barmaid brought me another and I smiled a thanks.

"We're about to close, Mr. Thorne."

"Ah, well love, I'll sign for the drinks and be off."

She turned and looked over her shoulder at a bloke I never noticed. "He's taken care of your tab." I dropped a few dollars tip on her tray then gave a congenial nod toward the man sitting in half darkness.

As I sipped beer far too light for my taste (I never thought to ask if the microbrewery made a stout), my eyes trailed to the stranger. He looked bloody familiar, but in a strange memory kinda way. Yeah, I was staring. In my line of work, when you get a direct affront, you aim straight back at 'em. My memory of the man he resembled was pretty appalling. Hell, there wasn't a detail that wasn't sharp as a needle, pricking my nerves and making me stare even harder.

Brian Mueller was an American. Why he was with the S.A.S was anyone's guess, but of course rumors flew faster than the planes we jumped from every Thursday morning. I was twenty-six. Just married and dealing with a baby on the way that wasn't going to make the finger count to nine. So was Brian. I was an officer, but so was Brian.

It was a silent tug of war between the Aussie and the American smack in the middle of England's most elite fighting forces. Silent, because neither one of us ever spoke to each other . . . until that day. It was the only time we ever talked.

I sipped beer as the Brian look-alike rose his own glass to me in a salute I didn't return. He stood and walked over, slid a chair from the nearest table and dragged it to my booth with his foot.

A cold flash prickled against my fuckin' spine but I sat cool, determined not to show this bloke I was sweatin'. It wasn't till the man settled on the chair and leaned his chin down on his arms and looked directly into my eyes that I realized that I was . . . in fact . . . sitting across from a dead man.

"Still the tough Aussie, Thorne?" Brian said.

"You were never much to be afraid of, mate."

Brian chuckled. "Even dead I can't get one over on you."

I glanced around the room. Blondie was washing glasses and the manager, Mickey was locking up the good liquor. "Why would ya' want to?" I said quietly, wondering if the staff was aware I was talkin' to myself.