Second Chance SEAL(109)
That was so strange. It only lasted for a brief second, and then she acted like she cared afterward, but I knew she had no real feelings about it. Maybe she even delighted in seeing King get hurt for whatever reason. I couldn’t begin to guess her reasons for any of this, but there was something very strange about her.
After we got back to the apartment, Travis poured himself a whisky and sat right down on the couch. He said he needed to do some planning, and that was fine with me. I retreated back to my room to do some planning of my own and got changed.
This had gotten so far out of hand. I didn’t know where I stood in all of this, or if I even thought we had a chance of succeeding. When Travis first told me his idea of turning on the mafia, I could hardly believe him.
The man was a Navy SEAL. He was supposed to be fighting for justice, not helping one gang take over another’s territory. But in his mind, he was helping the lesser of two evils rise to power while saving my life. Somebody else could deal with Janey and her family, he figured. A SEAL wasn’t a lawman, not by a long shot.
It just felt so strange to me, so unreal. I didn’t know how things had gotten this far, how I’d gotten so deeply into this. I knew I needed Travis’s help, but I was afraid that his plan wouldn’t work and we’d both be killed because of it.
I didn’t want him to get hurt because of me. Of course I didn’t. I wasn’t a monster, but all of this had gotten so complex, so far out of control. I didn’t think I could back out anymore even if I wanted to.
I hated just sitting in my room. I was trying to read a trashy romance novel just to escape and feel good for a little while, but I just couldn’t get into it. Reading about rich billionaires on Tinder just wasn’t doing much for me.
Frustrated, I got up and went out into the other room. Travis was still sitting there, staring at the wall, glass in hand.
“I don’t trust her,” I blurted out.
He didn’t look back at me. “I know.”
“Why do you?”
“I’m not sure I do either.”
“So why are we doing this?”
“Because it’s the best move.” He sighed and sipped his whisky. “Trust me, Hartley. I’ve reasoned this one out every which way, and this is our best move. I think Janey is more self-centered and businesslike than you realize.”
“She smiled,” I said.
He turned and looked at me. “What?”
“When you hit her brother. She smiled.”
He frowned. “That’s weird.”
“It was really weird. She didn’t look like she cared at all.”
He paused. “Did you care?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, surprised by the question. “I didn’t think you needed to do that.”
“Those people are going to try to fuck us, Hartley,” Travis said. “I needed to do something to show them that I’m a dangerous person. I needed them to be afraid enough to stick to the plan.”
I nodded slowly. That made sense. He got up from his spot and walked into the kitchen, getting a second glass. He poured me a small shot of whisky and carried it over, handing it to me.
He held up his glass. “To fucking over the mafia.”
I held up mine. “To saving the family farm.”
He laughed, clinked my glass, and drank. I drank mine down, feeling the burn in my stomach, grateful for the slight numbing spreading through my body.
“How are we going to make this happen?” I asked him.
“I’m not sure yet. The mafia has money and time invested in me now, though. They’ll come to a meeting if I call one.”
“Aren’t they going to check us out, though? That Culver guy, he’ll realize we’re not hiring people with that money.”
“Let me worry about Culver,” he said, taking the glass from my hand. He poured two more drinks, handed my glass back, and sipped his.
“You know,” he said, looking at me, “Janey asked you a question. Why do you think I’m helping you?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
He stared at me. “Yes, you do.”
I shook my head. “I really don’t.”
“All this and you still don’t get it?” He smirked at me. “Come on, Hartley.”
“This is your hometown. You don’t like seeing someone get hurt here.”
“Close,” he said.
“You’re a SEAL. You believe in saving people.”
“That’s true too, but why you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my heart beating fast. He stepped close to me, putting his glass down on the table.
“Yes, you do,” he said. “It’s because of that fucking fire in you. It’s because I never saw a victim.”