Page 23 of The Marine's Homecoming

Now no one says that unless they have bad news, so I'm glad I am sitting. Whatever it is, for one Marine to ask another to sit down for something like this, it's got to be worse than I feared.

"Yeah, go on." My thumb clicks this pen harder and faster as my chest starts to tighten. If Dorsey has dragged Hannah into some mess, I'll hurt him—bad.

"So, it turns out Dorsey is a bad man, Luke. In 2008 he was investigated for illegal arms dealing in the Middle East." Rico continues, but I huff and grumble under my breath. "Then in 2011 he was arrested for suspicion of aiding terrorist cells in Afghanistan but later let go with no proof to back up the charges."

"And more recently?" The pen isn't doing its job of calming me. I launch it across the room where it hits one of the business permits on the wall and makes it tip sideways. Now one of them hangs crookedly and annoys me, but not as bad as the roiling anger inside my ribcage.

"Nothing in the past few years, but there's word that he's been at it again. You're probably dealing with something shady, just like you fear." Rico and I go way back—like all the way to bootcamp when I learned he was in the service because his parents forced him to after getting into trouble for hacking things no teen should know how to hack. If anyone can get me proof of Dorsey's crimes, I know it's Rico. It's just a matter of whether he has time.

"Can you get me more?" I stand, seeing Hannah walk past my window toward her boat, and wonder if I should try to warn her yet. If Dorsey is into deep shit, she could get taken down right along with him. But without proof, she'll just think I'm dragging my feet on festival stuff. I don’t want to upset her when we're finally not at each other's throat.

"I'll do my best. Now that I know what we're looking at, it should be easier to track his activity." I hear more typing and I know Rico is already on the hunt.

"Good, well find out what's coming into this port and where it's going if you can. Look, I gotta run. There's someone I need to catch. But call me with updates as soon as possible. If I can take this guy out, the sooner, the better."

"Sure thing, bud." Rico hangs up and I pocket my phone, already moving toward Hannah.

God, I'd like to go find that fucker Dorsey and tell him off, but if I do that and he gets scared, he may pull out. And if he goes, his money goes with him. I might be able to handle these repairs on my own without his help, but no way Hannah can pull off a festival the size she's planning on her income. She needs his funding. I have to do this right or risk hurting her.

I stalk out of my office onto the pier where the sun is warm and the water is inviting. Hannah stands by her mooring, scowling at something, and I walk straight toward her. Much like I can't tell Dorsey off, I also don't want to alert her.

A warning might frighten her and make her suspicious of Dorsey, so much so that she could pull out and ruin her own festival too. Without substantiated proof, there's no reason for anyone to get up in arms over this. I'll wait for Rico, but in the meantime I have to make sure she's okay. That she's not being coerced by Dorsey. She has been more withdrawn and quieter lately, too, which could be a signal I've missed.

"Oh, good, Luke…" Hannah looks up at me, tossing some hair out of her eyes. "This thing isn't working right, and we have a party tomorrow." She kicks the passerelle and scowls at it,then looks up at me. "Can you do something with it? Gary is working a charter today with Tank and I can't risk leaving it until tomorrow. If he needs a part or something…"

The request wraps around me like a warm blanket. Of course I'll help her. Anything I can do to be closer to her is a good thing, and not just because of my morbid need to self-deprecate or feel rejected by her. I just know if Dorsey is up to something, the more he sees me around her, the less he will fuck with her.

"Yeah, sure," I say, pausing to look down at it. I know just about nothing when it comes to this sort of work, but I'm not going to tell her no. "Let's have a look." I follow her across the metal passerelle onto the boat and fiddle with a few knobs and switches. Hannah vanishes into the salon like she's happy to let me work unsupervised, and I stare at the damn contraption not knowing the first thing to try.

After ten minutes of fidgeting with knobs and buttons, the metal arm begins to retract and the passerelle rises, then lowers into its slot along the side of the yacht, and I feel a bit of relief. I'm not sure how to make it expand again, but it's working so far as I can tell. When Hannah pops her head out, she smiles.

"Oh, thank God… You fixed it." She stands in the doorway to the salon leaning on the jamb, looking as addictive as ever.

"Not sure what I did, but it's stowed… Now to get off this yacht of yours." I chuckle, rubbing the back of my head as she walks over and presses a single button which makes the mechanism hum and grind, then the passerelle rises.

"Like this…" She looks up at me, cheeks rosy and lips flushed dark, and it almost takes my breath away. "You just have to…"

Hannah has no clue how beautiful she is. I could tell her, but there are no words to describe it. Comparing her to a summer sunset over the ocean or the sight of wild flowers along the highway, no priceless artwork or expensive material thing could ever stack up. She is God's masterpiece and I must look like I'm staring.

"Yoo-hoo…" Hannah snaps in front of my eyes and I blink a few times. "Where'd you go?" She shakes her head, tossing her hair, and I find myself moving closer to her.

"Do you have any clue how beautiful you are?"

My question catches her off guard. I know she just wanted me to fix her boat. She probably has plans to do something and doesn’t have time to waste talking to me, but if I don't tell her what I'm thinking when I'm this close to her, I'll swallow these words and never get the chance. She'll walk off and find someone else, and my chance will be gone.

I'm sorry, Nick, but I'm falling for your sister.

"Luke?" Those long eyelashes bat as she bites down on her lower lip, and I lean in closer, not yet reaching for her, but damn, do I want to. My entire body feels on edge, like a predator poised to pounce on its prey. Hannah has become something I crave so deep in my gut, I’m not sure how to stop it.

"Hannah, I'm gonna kiss you now unless you stop me. Because seeing you walk past my window every day, two or three times, is driving me nuts and I can't get you out of my head." I step closer, but she doesn't back away, and I take that as my cue that she's giving me consent. I’d never do anything she didn’t want me to do, so knowing she’s not protesting feels like I’ve already won the checkered flag.

And when my hand hooks on her hip and pulls her in and my mouth crashes into hers, I lose all control. Hannah has become my addiction, something stronger than any drug—more powerful than any other driving force. I can't think without my brain finding its way to her. And I can't be around her without craving her being closer.

"Luke," she breathes, but she's not pulling away. She’s glancing around like she hopes no one sees us.

"Please, don't push me away, Hannah." I feel desperate and needy, like some overwhelming urge has just hit me and I'll drop dead if she rejects me. Never before in my life have I felt such a strong need to have someone, and I'm not talking about sex.

"You can't just kiss me like this in public."