“Yes,” Jared said with an uncertain half smile. It sounded more like a question than an answer.
“We’re going to talk, right?” I asked, staring down at my plate.
“We are going to talk. But let’s get through dinner, first.”
“I can do that,” I grinned.
I bit into the pot roast and instantly I was seven years old, sitting in a homey kitchen with a mil ion savory smel s floating throughout the room. Cynthia was politely chuckling at something Jack’s friend Gabe had said, and Gabe’s wife circled the table in a light blue apron, spooning out vegetables onto everyone’s plate.
“How is it?” Jared asked between bites, bringing me back to the present.
I shook my head, searching for the words that would do the taste I was experiencing justice. “I haven’t had a meal like this in a long, long time,” I chewed, “since I was a girl. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Jared shrugged. “It’s my mother’s recipe.”
I smiled at that. It was the first time he’d ever mentioned anything about his life. “Are you close with your mother?” I asked, settling into my chair.
“Pretty close. I spent a lot of time away from her when I was young.”
I raised my eyebrows with interest, waiting for him to elaborate.
“School was very easy for Claire and me—we finished at a young age—and we went on to train in more special areas.”
“Special as in what you can do? Fight, I mean.” Although I was prepared for an outlandish explanation, I was surprised that it began in his childhood.
“Right,” Jared confirmed. “My father taught us much of what we know; he took us al over the world to round out our training.”
“What kind of training?” I asked.
Jared squirmed in his chair. My insides wrenched as I watched him struggle; I wanted to somehow make it easier for him. I reached across the table and slid my fingers between each of his.
“This is why I’m here, right?” I said, offering a reassuring smile. Jared relaxed a bit and gently squeezed my fingers.
“We were trained to defend ourselves, to defend someone else, and received al the training each branch of military receives, including tactical, structure penetration, reconnaissance and patrol ing, hand to hand combat, demolitions, weapons, field medicine…you get the idea.”
“Why?” I said in a more incredulous tone than I’d intended.
Jared took another bite, considering my question. I couldn’t wait for him to decide the best answer.
“Your father was in the security business?” I prompted.
“More along the lines of security detail.”
“Bodyguard stuff,” I nodded.
Jared chuckled. “Yes, bodyguard stuff.”
“So Claire went through the same training?” I imagined tiny Claire training with the Navy Seals and shuddered. I wasn’t sure if it was because I feared for her safety, or because she was even more dangerous than I had previously thought.
“We were separated a lot. When she proved to be accelerated in most things we trained together.” His face twisted with irritation.
“Accelerated?”
“She could hit a target from fifteen-hundred yards by the time she was eleven. She’s probably the best sniper the military has ever seen,” he waited for my reaction. After seeing the deliberate smooth features of my face, he continued, “You can imagine how many elite branches of government and private sectors are fal ing over themselves for her, counting down the days until her eighteenth birthday.” He said the words with a hint of the tone a protective father might have when discussing his daughter’s first date.
“Are you close?” I asked, remembering the way they had reacted to each other in the pub.
Jared frowned. “I love her. She’s my sister.” The crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, “She’s also very obstinate and, like most teenage girls, she’s very self-absorbed. But in a lethal-type of way because of her training.” He was suddenly very far away. “Claire’s been through a lot. She didn’t get to have a normal childhood because of the way we were raised, and she’s angry about a lot of things.”
“Are you angry about the way you were raised?”
“No,” he said the word softly, but with firm conviction. There was no pause between my question and his answer. He scanned my face with such affection that I felt myself fidgeting with unease.
“Why is that?” I bit my lip, stil apprehensive about the intensity in his eyes.
“We’l get to that later. Dessert?” he asked, squeezing my hand before letting go.
I noticed the absence of his touch instantly when my hand turned cold. He took my nearly empty plate and returned with the perfect-sized slice of Angel Food cake. No icing, no layers. Just the way I liked it.
Taking a bite, I closed my eyes. “You have more than one talent, Mr. Ryel,” I said after swal owing the moist, spongy goodness. “Tel me more about you. I want to hear the little things, too. You know al of my favorites; it’s only fair that I know yours.”
Jared laughed once. “Okay.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned against his chair. “The little things….I was born in Providence on May ninth. I’m twenty-three,” he explained. “Breakfast is my favorite meal. Summer is my favorite season. I don’t have a favorite color, but I’ve always been partial to that crazy green-honey brown color of your eyes. I have this addiction to sweet potato fries.”
“Wel . There you go…I knew something about you after al ,” I grinned.
“See? I’m an open book.”
I rol ed my eyes. “Go on….”
“I think best when on my motorcycle; I don’t real y have time for hobbies. I have a sister, whom you’ve met,” I nodded, “and a little brother, Bex, who’s eleven. They both live with my mother, but Claire spends a lot of time here…sometimes too much,” he grimaced.
I giggled. “And you have your own security business?”
As soon as I asked, I wished I hadn’t. Jared’s eyes instantly clouded over into familiar twin storms.
“I brought you here tonight to be honest with you, Nina.”
“I know,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. Whatever it was I would listen, believe, and figure out a way to live with it. I had no other option versus the alternative. Now that I’d met him my life would never be the same again. It would be something too peculiar for anyone else to accept, but I had seen enough in the past months to know anything was possible. “I want you to tel me everything.”
Jared looked away. “You may feel differently before the night is over.”
I tilted my head to draw his eyes to mine. “After everything that’s happened, you don’t think I know there is something abnormal going on? I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jared leaned over and touched my cheek with the palm of his hand. I couldn’t help but lean into it, his skin was always so warm that it radiated into my bones.
“Okay, then. The truth.” He took a deep breath, “My father has been…close to your father for a long time.” He watched my expression, but that part I was somewhat prepared for. He continued, “My father served as protection for your father and, as you can imagine, Jack was a ful time job. He made a lot of the wrong people very angry on a regular basis.”