Justine Davis - Her Best Friend's Husband

“And the guy who gave Josh his start, when all he had was a pilot’s license, a design in his head and a dream. That Spanish galleon he found helped build the foundation of Redstone.” Gabe smiled. “Of course, he’s pouring money into his wife’s pet cause now. There are a lot of homeless animals eating better these days.”

“I didn’t realize he was connected to Redstone.”

“Most people don’t. But the man’s a lot more than a treasure hunter. He did that mainly to prove his father had been right about where that ship had gone down. He’s also a financial genius, and he’s at the disposal of anybody who works for Redstone. Including—” he gestured at the interior of the car, the rich leather, the polished wood “—me.”

“Nice perk,” she said.

“One of the benefits of working for a guy who makes friends for life,” Gabe said.

She looked at him curiously. “Is he? A friend, I mean? Is that how you ended up there?”

“He is now,” Gabe said, “but I didn’t even know him when he offered me my first job at Redstone.”

“How’d that happen?” she asked, intrigued now. “It’s not like you see advertisements for them.”

He chuckled. “No, Josh doesn’t have to advertise. People are lined up literally around the world wanting to work for him.”

She noticed he hadn’t actually answered her. “So, how?” she persisted.

When he hesitated, then let out a compressed breath, she knew she hadn’t imagined that he had been dodging her question.

“He’d read about the…incident that made me quit the navy. He was angry. Asked some of those friends he has about it, friends in or with connections to the military. My name came up.”

There was a flatness in his tone that made her remember their earlier conversation.

I never thought you’d give in to her…whining.

Is that what you think? That I quit because my wife nagged me into it?

“Why did you really quit, Gabe?”

“Hope, remember?” She’d irritated him now. Or he was still irritated by her earlier assumption.

“Hope was…a very social person,” she began, needing to say something, anything.

“Yes,” Gabe acknowledged. “And she needed someone who could be there for that kind of thing, social occasions. I couldn’t give her that, not the way she wanted.”

“But…she knew that, going in. She had to.”

“She thought she could deal with it.” He lifted a hand from the polished mahogany steering wheel to the back of his neck, rubbed as if it were aching. “She couldn’t. Long deployments take a huge toll. It takes an incredibly strong person to be a military spouse, in the best of times.”

“I can only imagine,” she said softly.

And strong was not a word Cara would use to describe Hope. Beautiful, vivacious, energetic, impulsive, yes, but strong? No. Not when she remembered all the seemingly endless phone calls where Hope had whined—not a flattering word, but the only one that really fit—about her husband’s absence. As if he had chosen to leave, as if he’d abandoned her intentionally.

He lapsed into silence, apparently focused on driving although traffic was light. She waited, and when they’d pulled to a halt at a stop light, quietly asked again.

“Why did you really quit?”

He turned his head. Her breath stopped in her chest. She’d never seen him look this way before. He’d always seemed intense to her, but there was something in his eyes now that made her almost afraid to move.

It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing; there was more of the military officer left in Gabriel Taggert than she’d thought. This was the kind of man who did what others were afraid to, who knew things, did things, went places the average person going about their comfortable life never had to think about, precisely because there were men like Gabe in the world, willing and able to do it for them.

It was only with great effort that she managed not to look away from that fierce gaze.

“I quit,” he said in measured tones that hinted at a lingering anger, “after twenty-three good, honest, heroic people died because some politicians —” he snarled the word “—decided it would upset the balance of power in the entire world if they were warned about an attack on them in time to defend themselves.”

Cara smothered a gasp. “They could have warned them? And didn’t?”

He looked away then, back to the front as the light changed, as if even now he was completely aware of his surroundings. When he went on, his voice was quieter, but she didn’t mistake that for calm.

“They chose not to, knowing what would happen. They didn’t just let them die, they sacrificed them on the altar of political expediency. They died, horribly, without ever knowing why.” He sucked in an audible breath. “Which may have been better than knowing the truth.”

Judging by the fact that he was still angry after all these years, she tended to agree with that.

“I didn’t know, Gabe. I’m…I don’t know what I am. Sick, maybe. That something like that could happen. Be allowed to happen.” She hesitated, then made herself ask. “The ones who died…they were your people?”

He flicked her a sideways glance. “They were navy,” he said.

The words were simple, but they spoke volumes about the man. And told her that everything she’d ever thought about him was true.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. For ever thinking you’d quit your career for…anything less than something like that.”

He glanced at her again. Her words had surprised him. Not as much as the fact that he’d told her what he just had, when he rarely spoke of it at all, but she’d still surprised him.

“I would have thought you’d expect me to quit, if Hope demanded it.”

Her mouth quirked. “There was a time when I suppose I might have,” she said. “I’m not particularly proud of that at the moment. Hope’s demands seem rather petty stacked up against the real reason you left.”

That surprised him, too. Perhaps he’d gotten used to thinking Hope’s version of what a woman needed was the only one.

“So how did Redstone happen, then?” Cara asked.

He’d told her so much already, there didn’t seem to be any reason not to give her the rest. He kept his eyes on the road now that they were on the freeway, but his peripheral vision was as good as it had been in the navy, and he could see her fairly clearly.

“Somebody he knew told Josh I’d quit, and why. He tracked me down. Offered me a job running his maritime division. I took it.” She saw one corner of his mouth curve up slightly. “Saved my life, after Hope.”

He said it lightly, in an effort to negate the intensity of the past few minutes.

“I should have been in touch more, then,” she said, as if she suspected there was more truth in the words than his tone admitted to. “I was so caught up in my own grief at the time I was afraid I’d break down sobbing every time, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate a weepy woman pestering you. Besides, I—”

She stopped suddenly and looked down at her hands in her lap. He risked a glance then, and he saw that her cheeks were pink. He let a moment pass while he turned his focus back to the roadway.

“You what?”

“At the time, I’d never been in love, not really, so I didn’t really realize what it feels like to have the one person you love most ripped out of your life without warning.”

“And now you do.”

He said it softly, and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Who was he, Cara?”

“His name was Robert. He was a police officer. Killed in the line of duty, during an armed robbery. He got between the robber and a little girl.”