Emilie Rose - A Better Man

The idea of him with another woman and other children gave her indigestion.

“Not even close. I can’t believe nobody snapped you up. There were plenty of guys wanting what I had.”

“Oh, please. The men in town were terrified of my father and you know it. That’s why I’d never had a date before you asked me out.”

A tender, reminiscent smile curved his lips and her toes. “Eighteen and never been kissed. You know I won twenty bucks off my posse for asking you out. But you avoided my question. Any close calls?”

Stalling for time, she shoved a bite of the pork into her mouth and chewed without tasting. Then she swallowed and sipped her tea while hunting for the words and the guts to perpetuate the lie she’d been living. She’d told this story a dozen times. Why was it so much harder to repeat it to him? “I was…engaged.”

His fist clenched on the table. “Was? You dumped him?”

She blinked once, twice, and fought the urge to squirm under Roth’s unwavering gaze. She could not afford to mess up. Josh’s future depended on her making this convincing.

“No. He…passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Who was he? A local?”

Breathe. “Someone I—I met when I lived in Florida.”

“Did the chief approve of him?”

Another unexpected question—one her mother’s fib had never addressed. “Yes.” Change the subject. “What did you do in the Marines?”

A moment stretched between them and from the determined look in his eyes, she feared he wouldn’t let her shift the conversation away from the dicey subject of her make-believe past. “I was a member of the Scout Sniper Battalion.”

“You were a sniper? You killed people?” Cold crept through her veins.

Her raised voice had heads turning. She winced.

“The entire restaurant doesn’t need to know. But yes, I was a sniper when my unit needed me to be. But that was only a small part of my job.”

A range of emotions rolled through her like a rock slide, fear and revulsion leading the pack. “How many kills?”

“Piper—”

“I’ve spent hours watching the military channel with my father while he recuperated. I know snipers keep some kind of journal or score card.”

“The number is irrelevant. My targets were murderers and insurgents or hostage takers. Every one I eliminated was a purposeful effort to save others’ lives.”

Like father, like son, the townsfolk had always said, but she’d never believed Roth had any violent tendencies. “You swore you’d never turn into your father.”

Revulsion filled his face. “I didn’t. My father was a mean, murdering bastard.”

“He killed my uncle in the heat of passion. You kill with cold, calculated precision.”

How many more of his father’s bad traits had he inherited?

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but otherwise he remained utterly still. “Becoming a sniper wasn’t about killing. It was about gaining total control of my body and emotions—something my father never had.”

“But you got up every day, cleaned your rifle and waited for orders to shoot someone.”

“Not every day.”

“How many Roth?”

His eyes turned cold. “That’s classified information.”

“And with the SWAT team, were you a sniper there, too?”

“Yes. Finish your lunch. It’s time to take you back to the office.”

She knew in her head that wars were violent and snipers were sometimes the most expedient method. The same could be said for hostage situations. But her heart looked across the table and saw a man who had killed. More than once.

For Josh’s safety she had to keep her son as far away from Roth as possible.

CHAPTER THREE

LUNCH HADN’T GONE WELL. Roth punched the accelerator as soon as the office door closed behind Piper. She’d put him on the defensive. But he’d made his apology. Objective accomplished, albeit with some collateral damage.

The first land mine being that she still got to him. If anything, she was more beautiful than before. It had been impossible to sit across from her and not remember the way her dimples used to flash, the love that had once shone from her blue eyes or the taste of her lips and the feel of her soft curves pressed against him.

The follow-up strike had been Piper’s accusation that he’d been looking for a way out of their relationship. As much as he hated to admit it, there was some truth in her words. Leaving her twelve years ago had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and his pride had been eviscerated when she’d sworn she’d never have the baby of white trash like him and thrown his money in his face.

But part of him had been relieved. He’d decided long before he met Piper that he’d never have children. If he didn’t have kids, he couldn’t fail them—or hurt them—the way his father had him. His opinion hadn’t changed over the years. Marriage wasn’t high on his to-do list, either. Cop marriages didn’t last.

What really burned like a chemical weapon was her accusing him of being like his father. He’d left Quincey behind and racked up numerous commendations to wipe that connection from his life. Yet less than twenty-four hours back and the one person who’d never judged him by his father’s actions was the one throwing that at him.

The fear and revulsion in her eyes when she’d grilled him about his job had gouged deep. Uneasiness wasn’t an uncommon reaction to finding out his specialty, and it was the primary reason he didn’t blab about his missions. But he wasn’t ashamed of his skills, his success or his service, and he wasn’t going to lie about the role he’d played. He’d saved a hell of a lot of lives. That was all that mattered. Why did he care what anyone—Piper—thought?

But something about the afternoon nagged him as he drove down Main Street checking out the new storefronts, and he’d learned not to ignore his instincts. Piper’s body language had been off. There’d been a slight tremor of her hands and her gaze had bounced away repeatedly. That, combined with the deep breaths she’d taken before answering his questions led him down an unexpected path.

His training automatically identified those as traits of someone with something to hide. But in a town like Quincey where your business was everybody’s business and secrets were impossible to keep, what could Piper be concealing? Probably nothing. More than likely their past was the issue. But he would find out.

He stopped at the light and weighed his options. He could see his apartment from here, but the idea of returning to his claustrophobic rooms held no appeal. Determined to lay one more ghost to rest, he steered the truck toward the old home place.

He passed one of the deputies driving the opposite direction and waved. The gesture wasn’t returned. Maybe the man didn’t recognize Roth’s truck. But given what Piper had said about her father being forced out of office, the lack of acknowledgment could be because the deputies were loyal to the old chief. Roth would have to deal with that Monday.

A few new houses had sprung up along the rural route. He slowed as he approached the hairpin turn that had changed his life. Chuck had hit the curve at full speed in Gus Benson’s Corvette, lost control and nailed a hundred-year-old oak. The oak still stood with a scar in its trunk. Miraculously, Chuck had walked away without a scratch, as drunks often do, but he’d totaled the car.

If not for that wreck, Gus and the chief would never have known about the joyride. What would have happened then? Roth had asked himself a hundred times during those early years when he’d been fighting to forget Piper. Would they have married? Would their baby have been a boy or girl? Would he have turned into an abusive ass like his father and ended up in jail as so many people had predicted? Or would he have, as Piper had insisted today, found another way to escape?