Joanna Wayne - Riding Shotgun

But there was really only one. She’d run again, blindly, like a fox fleeing a team of vicious hunting dogs. She’d have to change her appearance, might even try out that horrible wig she’d purchased online from a costume website. She looked at least forty in that. She’d swap her contact lens for some big-rimmed glasses.

She’d find a new identity, a new job, a new town. She’d start over once again, always living on the precipice of fear and ready to run on a minute’s notice.

Chapter Two

The wheels hit the runway with a thump and then bumped along a few yards before steadying. Back in the United States. Home again. For the first time in over a year.

But home to what?

A divorce from a wife who’d grown so emotionally distant that they’d stopped communicating altogether except for things concerning their daughter, Jaci.

No job prospects. No plans. And no more ties to the navy SEALs and the sense of purpose and comradery that had been his life for the past eight years.

The plane pulled up to the Jetway and jerked to a stop.

“Please remain seated until the captain turns off the seat-belt sign.”

No one did, including Pierce Lawrence. He opened the overhead storage compartment and retrieved his duffel and the one of the middle-aged woman who’d had the seat next to him. They’d barely exchanged a hello on the long flight. She’d slept. He’d struggled through silent rehearsals for what he was about to face.

As wary as if he were preparing for enemy fire, he followed the crowd of passengers to baggage claim.

He spotted Leslie before she saw him. Her long blond hair fell into curls that cascaded about her narrow shoulders. Her body was as spectacular as it had been when they’d met six years ago. She wore knee-high boots, a pale blue sweater and a short fitted skirt.

He slowed and stared, half expecting a jolt of desire to take his breath away. All he felt was a foreboding sense of loss for what they’d never really had.

His gaze fell to the five-year-old girl holding tight to her hand. Jaci shifted from foot to foot expectantly, or perhaps just impatiently. Her hair was red like his mother’s had been, curly like Leslie’s.

His daughter looked his way but made no sign that she recognized him. The jolt hit him then. Hard, as if someone had sucker punched him in the gut.

His daughter. The reason he was back in Chicago. The reason he’d turned his back on the lifestyle he’d loved. Yet he didn’t really know her and she certainly didn’t know him.

It was too late to save his marriage, but he was a dad and smart enough to know that if he didn’t bond with Jaci now, he might lose her forever. She’d be swallowed up by the new life Leslie would make for the two of them.

He hurried to where Leslie and Jaci were waiting. He dropped his duffel to the floor by his feet. Leslie managed a smile and slipped into his arms. Her hug lacked warmth. When he tried to kiss her, she dodged it, offering her cheek in place of her lips.

What did he expect? Their divorce would be final tomorrow.

“How was the flight?” Leslie asked.

“Long.” He bent to pick up his daughter.

Jaci scooted away from him, trying to hide behind her mother’s shapely legs.

“Say hello to your father, Jaci. He’s come a long way to see you.”

Jaci shook her head.

“That’s okay,” he said, though it hurt like hell. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted.”

“Yes,” Leslie said. “If all goes well, the two of you will be spending a lot of time together.”

Not exactly sure what that meant, he decided to let it ride. “I’ll grab the rest of my luggage from baggage claim, and then let’s get out of here. Maybe grab something to eat. I’m starved for some real food.”

“We can have lunch at the apartment,” Leslie said. “We need to talk.”

They needed to talk and get this divorce and the child custody situation over and done with. Couldn’t say it much plainer than that. This was definitely not the homecoming any serviceman dreamed about.

Talk during the drive to her apartment was all about Jaci, who sat in the backseat playing on an iPad. She shrugged or totally ignored his attempts to make conversation with her.

The apartment was in a luxury complex, gated, with gardens at the entrance and a man-made brook meandering through the three-story, balconied structures. Leslie hadn’t mentioned a raise or a promotion, but she’d upgraded significantly from the apartment they’d rented together when he’d last been home on leave. She clearly wasn’t living like this on his military salary.

She parked next to the curb. He followed her and Jaci up the path to the front door. Jaci’s hand was securely encased in her mother’s as if she needed protection from the stranger referred to as her father.

He was a stranger. That was the problem. A stranger to Leslie, too. A stranger to this life that seemed positively foreign to the secret mission he’d been on in the Middle East for the past nine months.

“Nice digs,” he said as he followed Leslie through the door.

“We needed more space,” she said as if that explained it all. “Jaci, why don’t you show your father your room and some of your favorite toys while I put lunch on the table.”

Jaci looked as if she’d been asked to pick up a slimy fish with her bare hands. Pierce had a handful of medals that claimed he was brave and tough, yet facing Jaci alone daunted him.

“I can help you in the kitchen first if you’d like,” he offered.

“No help needed. All I have to do is toss a salad. Everything else I picked up at the deli earlier. I thought it would be easier to talk here than at a noisy restaurant.”

“No doubt.”

Jaci left the kitchen and he followed her to her room. It was even more daunting than Jaci. Pink satin and lace everywhere from the curtains to the bed with its multitude of throw pillows. Looked like it had come straight from a designer’s showroom. He wouldn’t have dared sit on the bed and put a wrinkle in the frilly coverlet.

He wondered if Jaci did.

Not a toy out of place. Books in perfect order along a low bookshelf. Dolls on display.

“It’s a very pretty room,” Pierce offered.

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I wanted a cowboy coverlet like my friend Joey has, but Mommy said no.”

“So, you like cowboys?” Maybe they did have some common ground. He’d loved the cowboy lifestyle himself once, had been sure he’d own his own ranch one day.

“I like horses,” Jaci said.

“Have you ever ridden one?”

“Once. At Joey’s birthday party, but they just walked around real slow in a circle. And they were all tied together. I don’t think they liked it.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t,” Pierce agreed. “I’ll take you riding on a real horse.”

Jaci tilted her head and cut her eyes at him. “Mommy says they’re dangerous.”

“For Mommy, maybe. But I’ve ridden lots of horses. I can keep you safe.”

Here he was, back in her life less than an hour and already usurping Leslie’s authority. That might not be the best of ideas. “We’ll get your mommy’s approval before we ride.”

“She’ll say no.”

“But she must let you do lots of fun things.” He wasn’t about to fall into the trap of competing with Leslie. “So show me those favorite toys your mother was talking about.”

“It’s just kid stuff. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I was a kid once.”

Jaci didn’t look convinced. She went to the shelf and pulled out a basket of Lego. “I like to build things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Towers. As tall as I can. And bridges. They’re the hardest.”