“Was?”
“He was my son.”
The silence hung between us as I absorbed his words. Rex was wrapped in a hard, thick shell, and I knew care was needed to not push too far.
“Did he live here with you?” I asked.
“No, he never lived here. I brought Evelyn here after he died; I hoped it would help. I-I tried to save her, but of course, couldn’t. Her grief took over; she left for another life.”
My fingers traced the other name inked into his skin: Evelyn.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to say.
“It was my fault—all of it. We married young—she was my high school sweetheart. Evelyn worked her ass off putting me through college, then medical school. I joined the military when they offered to pay off my hefty student loans. Life was good—except Evelyn craved a baby. More than anything, she wanted to be a mother—she wanted to have someone need her. Years passed and she didn’t get pregnant. I became more and more involved in search and rescue and combat medicine, and then more classified stuff with special ops task forces. The thrill of that life consumed me—I deployed more and more, and was home less and less.”
“You worked here, in Colombia?”
“I can’t talk about the things I did in the service, but I’ll just say I fell in love with it here. The climate, the people—I never wanted to leave.”
“And your wife?”
“She withered alone—she wasn’t that strong.”
“Did she cheat on you?”
“Never. She was loyal, she held on to me for years. But, five years ago she decided she’d had enough and filed for divorce. I went home, begged her to give me more time. I promised her that my military career was almost over. She agreed, deluding herself into thinking I would just leave the colorful life I led in the jungle to go home and set up a medical practice. Penny, I loved her, but I was never going to be that kind of guy.”
I ran my index finger along his skin, tracing the delicate petals of the rose surrounding her name. “So you stayed together?”
“She agreed to wait on the divorce. And, on that trip home somehow, some way, we conceived a baby. But I didn’t change—when Noah was born I was in the middle of the jungle, stitching up a Delta Force guy who’d been nearly gutted by a cartel thug.”
I pulled into him, Nate still sleeping soundly at my back. “I just can’t imagine you as a father, that’s—”
“I wasn’t a father. The baby died shortly after delivery—the cord was wrapped around his throat. I never even saw him in person, only in photos.”
He went silent after that, rolling into me and closing his eyes. Sharing wasn’t easy for this stoic man, and I knew it was time to let him go silent.
Chapter Five
The next morning, I woke up to find both men gone. I rolled over in Nate’s comfy bed—the bedside clock informing me in bright blue numbers that it was after ten. I felt very naked, sore, and in need of a shower. A cozy robe was draped across the end of the bed, left for me probably by Nate. I slid it on and walked across the hall to my room. Suddenly, it felt like her room rather than mine. I knew if I stayed, I’d want that room redone.
I took a long, hot shower before going into the walk-in closet to throw on one of the few outfits left for me by the absent Evelyn. I was now sure these were her clothes, and probably not her A-list outfits. But…the closet was no longer empty. It was full—there were shoes, dresses, jeans, and blouses—all my size. I pulled open a drawer—panties and bras in exquisite lace and silk. Another drawer held swimsuits, and another was stocked with pajamas, some sexy, some comfy. Tears swelled in my eyes—someone cared for me. It wasn’t the things that touched me, back in Vegas I had more material things than I could ever appreciate, but the fact that I was not only being cared for but being encouraged to stay touched me deeply.
I dressed, savoring the chance to look good again and put together an outfit. Back in the bathroom, I prayed they’d thought to provide me some makeup, but the vanity drawers were still empty.
When I felt presentable, I wandered down the hall in search of company. An open door off the main living space revealed Nate in a modern black leather and chrome office, staring intently at several large screens in front of him as he tapped away at a keyboard. He was dressed casually, in slim jeans and a striped oxford shirt. “Hey, lover lover,” he said as he noticed me standing in front of him. “You have an office here?” I asked.
“Yeah—despite my disappearance, I still run my little empire through a few trusted contacts at my company. They’re willing to let me stay hidden a little longer.”
Nate’s “little empire” was worth billions, and I grinned at his modesty.
I walked around his desk to crawl into his lap. He nuzzled into my hair as I looked at his screen—it was all computer code, financial graphs, and other math-looking stuff that bored me to tears. “Thanks for the clothes,” I said, running my fingers through his wavy copper hair. “It wasn’t just me—Rex agreed that we needed to make you feel at home. He said the clothes he gave you in the duffle bag were the few things she didn’t take—I guess she forgot to check the dryer when she wiped him out. I did do the shopping, though.”
“Next time you shop, can I have some makeup?”
“Uh, I thought about that, Rex likes your skin natural, though.”
I sighed in exasperation. “At least some eyeliner?”
“Go ask him. I think he’s in his office working.” I couldn’t picture Rex with an office, doing work that didn’t involve a machete. “Okay, but can we go for a swim after? Maybe you can take me into town?”
“Sorry, Pen,” he apologized, “I’ve got one of my main guys here needing my help on this—I have to put out some fires before I can go back to my life of leisure and kinky sex.” He winked at me before turning his eyes back to one of his monitors. I walked to the door. “Where’s his office?” He tapped on his keyboard a moment before absently answering, “Oh, directly across, on the other side of the living room.”
“Am I allowed to go in there?” I still didn’t understand Rex’s boundaries.
“Uh, sure, yeah—nothing secret about his office.” He didn’t look up. “We’ll hang out later, babe, I promise.”
I left Nate’s office, gently closing his door before walking across the expansive main living area to a closed door on the other side. I knocked softly, almost changing my mind about bothering Rex. I never knew if I’d find hard Rex or soft Rex.
“Come in,” his deep voice boomed from the other side.
I pushed it open and stood at the entrance. Rex’s office was the opposite of Nate’s modern, sophisticated space. A worn leather bomber sofa sat in the corner, and the far wall was lined with shelving containing survival and camping gear—backpacks, knives, tents, fishing lines, and all of the other stuff he probably provided his clients. The room felt like Colombia—deep chocolate hues, lush greens, and a general feeling of chaos. It was the sort of place where you expected to see Ernest Hemingway sitting in a corner, typing and smoking a cigar. “Am I bothering you?” I asked sheepishly, hoping for soft Rex.
“No, I’m struggling with the less-fun aspect of my job.” He gestured for me to come as I slinked closer. With his dark gaze on me, I suddenly felt ridiculous bothering him for something as superficial as makeup. Rex wore his standard outfit of worn jeans, black combat boots, and a black t-shirt that strained to cover his muscular frame. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, however. He was wearing glasses. “You look so scholarly!” I burst out with my usual lack of a verbal filter. He whipped them off and tossed them on the desk. “What the fuck ever, Penelope. Wait until you hit your forties.”
I covered my snicker with my hand. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap. “I need a distraction.”
I sat down on his lap, his arms around me from behind as he stared at the screen. “Thanks for the clothes.” He kissed my shoulder and clicked at something with his mouse. “You’re welcome, Princess. You look beautiful, and smell even better.” I smiled, my eyes looking around the room. The walls had several military plaques, different awards from different squadrons, and a framed certificate. I squinted to read it: LT COL Roger N. Renton. “Is that your father, Roger Renton?” I asked.
He sipped at his coffee before resting his hand on my thigh.
“Such a curious girl.” He offered no answer, and went back to clicking his monitor.
“Rex, I was wondering if I could have some makeup? Maybe just some eyeliner?”
He ignored my question, rubbing his chin in confusion at the dilemma on his screen.
“You are flawless, Penny. Why the fuck would you want to alter that?”
I stroked his forearm, the intricate swirls of ink wrapping around his bulging muscles. “I-I’m glad you like the way I look. But, I’d just feel more confident with a little liner…”
He squinted at his screen—the display making perfect sense to me, unlike Nate’s work. Rex needed his glasses, but didn’t want to put them back on after I’d teased him. Even King Rex seemed to have insecurities.