A Better Man. Emilie Rose

heart race.

      “Piper, I invited you to lunch because I owe you an apology. I never intended to hurt you. Twelve years ago we were too young to handle the situation we found ourselves in.”

      “You mean you weren’t ready for the responsibility of a wife and child.”

      His cheeks darkened. “You’re right. I’m not proud to admit I freaked out when you told me you were pregnant. I suddenly saw myself as my father’s son. I’d spent my life listening to that bastard accuse my mother of ruining his life by getting pregnant—as if he’d had no part in it—right before he knocked the hell out of her.” His grip tightened. “I couldn’t do it, Piper. I couldn’t take the chance that I’d turn into a monster like him, and I couldn’t watch the love in your eyes turn to hate.”

      “You wouldn’t have and I would never—”

      “You don’t know that. And you deserved better than a mechanic who barely scraped through high school. Hell, you were a straight-A student with years of college ahead of you. If you’d married me, your parents would have disowned you. I couldn’t afford college tuition on what little I made from the garage. I would have held you back and you would have grown to resent me.”

      The sincerity in his eyes told her he believed what he said, but it didn’t change the facts. His presence could cause problems for her and Josh. She yanked her hand free.

      “Is that how you made peace with your decision, Roth? You weren’t there for me when I needed you. You left me to face my parents alone. I won’t ever forget that.”

      He stiffened. “I’ve admitted I made mistakes. I thought we could be friends.”

      Friends? With the man who could destroy her world?

      “I prefer friends I can count on. And don’t think I’ve been sitting around pining for your return. I’ve moved on with my life.” She gestured to the untouched food in front of her. “Do we have to do this?”

      “If you don’t eat your lunch, I’m going to think there’s a reason you can’t handle a little conversation with me.” His challenging tone reminded her of the old Roth.

      She fisted her hands beneath the table and fought for calm. He wanted to play games? Fine, she could play games. But instead of him grilling her, she’d let him feel the heat.

      “Your becoming a cop is ironic, isn’t it? You and your posse were pains in the Quincey Police Department’s behind.”

      “We were. What about you? Did you stir up any trouble while you were out of the chief’s surveillance?”

      Her heart bounded. “I had better things to do than cause problems for other people.” Except her parents, apparently.

      “And what brought you home?”

      “Aunt Agnes sold her house and moved into a retirement community.” One that hadn’t allowed children. “Then Dr. Jones, Quincey’s old vet, needed help.”

      “He retired?”

      “He died soon after I went to work for him. His heirs sold the practice to Madison. Lucky for me, she kept me on.”

      “Ever married?”

      Every muscle in her body snapped taut. She should have seen that one coming. “No. You?”

      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