“It’s not him,” I cut in as an ill-feeling rose.
Although grainy, my memory of my father was forever etched deep into my memory. I could have, of course, run a search on the van Staden Distillery. There, no doubt, I would find my father’s proud face for all the internet to see. What won’t be shown is the darkness that lingered behind the shiny façade. The part where he had me abducted at seven years old and taken back to Cape Town. Why? I still had no idea other than assumptions of him wanting to keep me away from Mom to spite her.
The days in his large manor had felt like months, and as each one passed, I grew more terrified that I’d never see Mom again. The world was an incomprehensible place for a child, let alone sordid family politics I’d been caught in the middle of.
“Hallie.”
Tiffany’s soft touch to my arm brought me back to the present. I jerked my arm away and fought to steady my rapid breathing.
“I’m fine.” I cast a final glance at Mom’s pretty face. “Tiff—”
“I know what to do,” she assured me in a soft tone, fingers already working over the keyboard.
Leaving her to do what she did best, I sent a quick text to my Sunday night informing him that I’d be stopping by later tonight. He knew the drill: Sunday night on call if I wanted him. No strings. No feelings. Just sex.
I made for the elevator and savagely stabbed the button. I’d planned on doing a five-mile run with a fifty-pound pack this afternoon, but after seeing my mom in Cape Town five miles wasn’t going to cut it.
~*~
Come evening, I was still pissed and hurt from Tiffany’s revelation. I pulled up at the curb in front of a row of takeout vendors to grab food before heading to José’s place for the booty call. It was already nearing nine at night and I needed to eat, then fuck away the worries of the day.
I beeped the locks on my Maserati without looking and stepped onto the sidewalk. With each step, my heeled boots hit the pavement with a sharp click that matched my take-no-shit stride.
Minding my own business and with my mind dominated by my mother’s mysterious reappearance, I barely spared a glance at the figure leaning against the outdoor wall of a bar as I passed.
Six strides on, a voice I’d still recognize after a thousand years stopped me in my tracks. “Mister Sunday’s one lucky sonofabitch, Hellcat.”
I spun and immediately clapped eyes on the man I often wondered about. Avery Montgomery, Special Retraction Team (SRT) soldier and former friend with benefits.
“Avery!” I exclaimed, already running at him, then jumped into his arms.
He caught me with ease and hugged me close as my legs wrapped around his waist. We’d served on the same SRT and shared a mutually beneficial sex arrangement for over two years. Plus, it was fair to say that my affection for him ran infinitely deeper than it did for any of my other fuck buddies. I kept the others strictly to one night a week each. Avery, however, was Mister Thursday-through-Sunday at the height of our “relationship”, shortly before I left the army to search for my mother.
His laughter came loud in my ear as he tightened his crushing hold. “Now that’s some welcome, babe.”
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I growled, squeezing harder as affection near overwhelmed me.
“Missed you every fuckin’ day, Hells. I swear I’m seeing a ghost right now. I thought you headed back to South Africa.”
I eased back just enough to stare directly into his blue eyes. “Plans change, Ayve—you know that.”
“Speaking of plans…” He set me on my feet. “...You have some.”
“As I said, plans change. Want to catch up?”
A smirk tugged at his mouth. “You’re standing up your booty call?”
I waved a hand and hugged his arm to my body. “José knows how I roll, and so do you.”
He chuckled. “José, huh?”
I shrugged. Avery understood how my personal transactions worked: with all the men I slept with, if they weren’t happy with the one condition I had—sharing me with others—then they knew where the door was.
“You were one helluva fuck, Hellcat.”
Craning my neck skyward, I locked eyes with him again and smirked. “I still am.”
Shrouded in shadows and with only the streetlamps providing light, a spark ignited between us. One that never failed to slow time and hitch my breath. Avery’s inhales grew shallow, and heat entered his eyes, turning them a darker shade of dusky blue. His tongue made a pass over his lower lip before he made a decisive move to pull me closer. My chest hit his and his hands firmly anchored onto my hips. One hand drew a line up my spine before fingers wrapped around the base of my neck in Avery’s signature possessive move.