Butterfly Ops: Book 1

Author

Introduction to the Series

What's a superheroine to do when her super soldier ex turns up alive after more than fifteen years?

Lyndsey Daniels doesn't have much time to walk down memory lane before she and Ian Fox find themselves thrown together to investigate the mysterious deaths of ten young men in the Canadian wilderness. How do the hearts of such seemingly normal, healthy men just...stop?

With the hint of an evil spirit in the wind—and a whole lot of butterflies—there's no telling what Lyndsey and Ian are dealing with, including their own extensive baggage. Though sixteen years is a lot of life to live, there's one thing they can't deny: their attraction is as intense as ever. But is it just a spark that will burn itself out, or is it true love bringing them back together? When the force they're hunting turns its sights on them, the leap of faith required far exceeds the powers of either of them. But worrying about their future might be premature because one wrong move and they might not make it out alive.

In Book One of the Butterfly Ops trilogy, Lyndsey and Ian reconnect fifteen years after seeing each other for what each thought was the last time. That the spark is still there is undeniable—but is it enough to get past the secrets and lies that tore them apart the first time around? With old tensions rearing their heads as new challenges arise, what at first seems to be a sure path back to trust and happiness is rockier than it seems.

Note: this is Book One in a serial trilogy. Book Two will be released in Spring 2019; Book Three will be released in early Summer 2019. Books should be read in order.

jen@jendoyleink.com

http://www.jendoyleink.com

Prologue

Fifteen Years Ago: Marin Headlands, Sausalito, CA

Lyndsey Daniels picked her way through the darkness less carefully than she knew she should. There were monsters out there, as she had recently been told; wandering alone through the Headlands in the middle of the night wasn’t the best of ideas. Her mind was in another place, though, and she had to clear her head. It had been a bad six months—the worst ever. She’d been so cautious for so long that she’d needed to remember what freedom felt like. It was her twenty-first birthday, after all. If a party wasn’t anywhere on the horizon then at least—

There was a sudden stillness in the air, the almost inaudible click as the rifle fell into place. Damn it, Lyndsey thought. She was ready to fight for her life; she’d trained for it. But, really—she couldn’t have this one night? Not even an hour to pretend she was just like everyone else?

This was the deal, though, the separating of the men from the boys. Or the woman from the girl she used to be, she supposed. Lyndsey whirled around, ready to take on whoever or whatever she needed to survive. Then she saw who was there, gun locked and loaded and pointed directly at her head. "Matt?" Matt Lee. Someone she knew just a little too well.

Lyndsey. His eyes left hers for the slightest fraction of a second as he looked behind her to make sure she was alone. What the hell? he snapped, almost as though he were angry at her for having the nerve to have ventured out into his territory.

What he should have been saying, of course, was: Monsters, Lyndsey. You get that, right? Being chased by a fully loaded and primed security team.

Well, he probably wouldn’t have used air quotes or anything, because he was part of the security part. But the important question on the table should have been: Are you crazy?

He wasn’t saying that, however. Because the monster was her. Lyndsey was the one they were hunting. She was the one everyone else was running from.

And she shouldn’t have been caught.

She’d been feeling sorry for herself, though; wallowing, truth be told. Because of a boy. Fat lot of good it had done her.

On your knees, Lyn, Matt said, his eyes a little too wild for her taste. Then he raised his rifle a bit, making it so the shot would go right between her eyes. After gesturing for her to put her hands behind her head, he shook his head and muttered, Fuck.

Lyndsey’s sentiment exactly.

Stupid, Lyndsey. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It wasn’t bad enough that you let a boy get you into this mess. No. You had to go wallow at the worst possible time—and now here you are, knees hitting the ground, gun to your head, held there by the boy-in-question’s best friend in the world. Perfect. What a perfectly sad ending to the overwhelmingly depressing story. The story of her life, unfortunately.

I hate you, Matt, she said, fighting the urge to cry out of pure frustration.

His jaw tightened in a way that made her think he might actually be feeling sorry for her, and it pissed her off. She didn’t want his pity; she didn’t want his anything. Well, except maybe his imposing-looking gun. But then his mouth twitched with a smile so brief—and so unexpectedly warm—she almost didn’t catch it. She wished he had let it take hold. Matt Lee was a good-looking guy; too handsome, almost, in a chiseled kind of way that wasn’t Lyndsey’s type at all. If his smile was the last thing she ever saw, however, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

He didn’t smile again, though, not fully. His eyes shining, he said, Hate’s a strong word, Lyn. Want to take that back?

A sob rose up and lodged itself in Lyndsey’s throat. But she had to fight off the smile, too. He said it exactly the same way Ian would say it after the two had played another round of basketball, and after Ian had—as always—beaten Matt. I hate you, Fox, Matt would inevitably say. And, twinkle in his eye, long, lean body glistening with sweat, Ian would add, Wanna take that back? Then they’d play another round, or they’d switch to something Matt had a chance at winning, or…

Or Ian would catch sight of Lyndsey and his whole body would go still as he watched her come close. Everything would stop. He’d take her into his arms—so gently she felt like she was the most precious thing that had ever walked this Earth. And then he’d take her to bed and make sure she knew she was.

Ian wasn’t Lyndsey’s type, either. He was apple pie and baseball and straight out of the American heartland, whereas Lyndsey usually tended to go for the bad boys she came across. But no man had ever touched her the way Ian had—had ever gotten to her in the way he could. And no man had even come close to breaking her heart the way he had. If she had her way, no man ever would again.

Lyndsey ducked her head and closed her eyes for one final moment of wallowing. Happy twenty-first birthday to me. But when she raised her head again she made sure her eyes were clear and her gaze unwavering. If Matt was going to try and take her down then she was sure as hell going to fight him on it. To her surprise, however, he seemed as affected by all of this as she was.

This is seriously fucked up, he muttered, letting his gaze slip away and off to the side. Lost his focus.

He realized what he’d done a second after she did, a second during which she could have turned the tables entirely. Her hesitation cost her—the rifle snapped back up, his eyes locked back on hers.

Don’t, he snapped. Don’t even think about it.

There was a reason, after all, that he had a gun turned on her, that his entire squad of… well, of whatever they were; she hadn’t yet been able to figure that out… was after her. A reason Ian had left her and taken off for places unknown: she was a freak. The monster they were hunting. She could kill each and every one of them with her bare hands and walk away without a scratch on her.

Okay, maybe one scratch; they were highly-trained, frighteningly-efficient, and trained to handle a whole different kind of enemy—of the undead, supernatural kind. And unfortunately, right now she was the poster child, a point that was hit home when Matt cocked his head to the side in a gesture Lyndsey had come to learn meant he had activated the communications piece of the headset he wore—the ‘comm’ as they all called it—and was either listening or about to talk. Or maybe both, as it took a few seconds before he said, "Negative. Subject Alpha is not secure. I repeat, she is not secure."

Well… Huh.

The exchange made her rethink her current circumstances. Telling his squad Lyndsey—i.e., Subject Alpha—wasn’t secure was one thing. As far as Lyndsey was concerned, in fact, she wasn’t. Secure, that was. Just because he had the gun didn’t mean he had the advantage.

It wasn’t just that, though; he was actually keeping quiet about having her in his sights. Lyndsey relaxed a little—just a smidgen—her heart taking an unexpected jump at the possibility she might get out of this without any blood being shed. His blood, just to be clear, because gun or not, she had no doubt she could take him. But it wasn’t exactly her first choice for a birthday celebration.

Subject Alpha? Lyndsey said, hopefully quietly enough for only Matt to hear her. That’s the best you could come up with? Although she supposed it was better than ‘Freakshow,’ which was the way she often referred to herself. Still, it was the government. They paid people to come up with multi-part names for things as simple as a hammer. You’d think they could have managed something beyond ‘Alpha.’

Matt cocked his head again, apparently shutting the comm off. Why? You got something better?

Fingers still laced together behind her head, Lyndsey asked, You really doesn’t know?

Well, good. They’d studied her for over a year, had had the data to analyze for the six months since. They’d been trying to figure out why she was stronger than anyone they’d ever seen, faster too. Why she could sense things, see things, hear and smell things other people couldn’t. She’d spent most of her life not knowing why—it had been the whole reason she’d agreed to let them study her in the first place. That they’d had ulterior motives hadn’t exactly been stunning; that they’d considered her expendable however—disposable, to be precise—was a news flash of a different kind. But these guys didn’t like what they didn’t understand. And they really didn’t understand her. Six months ago they’d gone ahead and declared her Enemy Numero Uno in what she’d overheard someone call the Monster Wars.

She’d been running ever since.

All we know is what you aren’t. A hint of a smile appeared in Matt’s eyes. Care to enlighten me?

About what I’m not? she asked, happy to play the cagey game right along with him. Sure. You can go ahead and cross off vampire, werewolf, fairy, witch… Should I go on?

When he smirked, Lyndsey just grinned. Well why not? She was on her knees with a nasty looking gun aimed at her head; she was going to take the fun where she could get it.

But Matt clearly had no more interest in being reminded of what was out there than she did; he obviously didn’t want to hear the rest of the list. What he was interested in, however, was the answer she’d just come to have, a 21 st birthday present of sorts. Of who—or, rather, what—she was.

Maybe one day the professor and I can have a talk, Matt said.

The professor? she asked, unable to mask her surprise. You mean Zach?

Zach, as in Zachary St. John, Lyndsey’s partner in crime, so to speak. A professor at the university, he’d been trying to talk some sense into the general leading the charge to hunt Lyndsey down. And all the other ‘monsters,’ although some of them really did deserve hunting, Lyndsey had to admit. Zachary also, as it turned out, had been the one who finally figured it all out. She couldn’t imagine how Matt had known that, though.

Yes, Zach, Matt replied, an edge to his voice that was hard to ignore. I don’t suppose he knows what you are? I mean, he’s had plenty of opportunity, right? His expression hardened. Getting all up close and personal?

"Up close and personal? From the glare Matt was giving her, there was no mistaking what he meant. Trust me, she muttered. There’s nothing of the up close and personal kind going on. Talk about something coming out of left field. Why would you think…?"

Oh. Duh. Because she’d been staying with Zach when Ian left town. Matt clearly thought there was something more going on than Lyndsey’s seeking refuge with the one person she knew would take her in, no questions asked—and who didn’t like Ian enough to make excuses for him. So, okay, yes, Zach was drop dead gorgeous and had a ridiculously sexy British accent. But really?

She made a face. I don’t date older men, she finally answered. Especially not ones who counted their age in terms of centuries, eight of them in Zach’s case even though he didn’t look a day over 35. If Matt didn’t know Zach was a vampire, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Nor was she going to mention that not being with Zach had nothing to do with his age and everything to do with…

Her breath caught. The only reason she wasn’t with Zach was because, in her head at least, she was still with Ian; even though he’d gone and left her six months before and hadn’t contacted her since. Just thinking Ian’s name made her heart hurt. But there was no way in hell she was letting his best friend know any of that.

Her answer wasn’t what Matt had expected; that was obvious. He let the rifle down a fraction of an inch. You’re not with Zachary?

Well, whatever. It might have been giving up too much, but Lyndsey shook her head anyway. At least they’d gotten off the subject of what she was, which, incidentally, sounded ridiculous. Even if she had wanted to tell Matt she couldn’t have. How did you go about telling people that, okay, yes, 5’ 4" with a somewhat petite build, but also an Amazon.

Kind of.

Not technically an Amazon, Zach had said. Just descended from the same bloodlines. A whole long line of warrior women going by a whole long line of names. And she was one of them. It wasn’t going to change the mind of Matt or any of his friends, though. There was still a big red target painted on her back.

Lindsey’s eyes narrowed and she flexed her wrists. It was time to end this standoff, one way or another.

As she’d expected, Matt’s rifle snapped up again. Don’t give me a reason, he said, his voice colder than it had been before.

So, it seemed, she had a choice to make. She could go for it—lunge at him, defend her turf, give his team an actual reason to hunt her down. Or she could take the fact that he hadn’t shot her on sight—that he hadn’t given her up yet to the rest of his team—as a sign he didn’t want to kill her any more than she wanted to be killed. That he, like her, had gotten caught up in something he didn’t understand any more than she did.

Not that he wouldn’t kill her if he had to, and not that she couldn’t give him a reason after all. But maybe Ian meant too much to both of them for it to come to that right now. She took a chance and decided to straighten up and stretch.

Matt took a couple of steps back as she slowly got to her feet. Although his eyes didn’t leave hers, she knew he was gauging how far she was and wondering how fast and high she could jump.

Now it was his trigger finger twitching—not nearly as endearing.

They stayed that way for almost a full minute, standing and staring at each other, neither speaking a word. Then Matt turned his comm back on and Lyndsey started thinking about how far and fast and high she could jump, too. Except rather than call in the cavalry, he said into his mouthpiece, Sector 8 is clear. There’s no one here.

Lyndsey didn’t realize how tense she’d been until the moment he lowered his rifle to his side. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, she truly hadn’t. And although she was pretty sure she would have been able to go as far as killing him if she’d had to, it wasn’t really something she was interested in finding out for sure. In six months of the Wars, she hadn’t had to shed any blood; she had no interest in starting with her boyfriend’s best friend. From the relief on Matt’s face as he saw her muscles go slack, she had a feeling his thoughts were running along the same lines.

Okay, guys, he continued. I’m calling it a night. Good work everyone. Lee out.

Lyndsey could usually tell when the dogs had been called off; there was something that shifted in the air and made it a whole lot more breathable. But it was sure nice to hear the order actually be given. It made her want to drop back down to her knees and gulp it all in.

She didn’t, of course.

What was also bad, but what she couldn’t quite help, was that she wasn’t ready to leave. Not when she was this close to having at least some of her questions answered—questions she’d wanted to ask since even before Ian left: what had she done to make him turn on her the way he had? Had it been his plan all along?

Had any part of what they’d had been even close to real?

She wondered if Matt knew; Lyndsey sure as hell didn’t. Everything had been wonderful—perfect, as far as she’d been concerned. She’d left Ian’s bed one morning feeling on top of the world, and then she’d come back later that very day to find out she’d been so very wrong. Everything she thought they’d had was gone. And to this day, she had no idea why.

It was still too raw to talk about, though; so raw Lyndsey could barely even think about it despite how much time had passed. And yet… Is he still alive? she asked before she could think better of it.

Although Matt’s weapon was at his side, the look he gave her sent ice through her veins. After a pause, he answered, He’s getting by.

The tears came suddenly, almost overwhelming her. She closed her eyes for a minute, just so she could focus on catching her breath. Opening them, she saw Matt’s finger on the trigger again, even though he was still holding the gun away. Is he—?

No, Matt snapped. You don’t get to ask. You lost any claim you had to asking six months ago.

Because that was when her status had changed from girlfriend to monster? Or because even though Ian had already dealt the mortal blow, she’d been the one to turn away?

She bit her lip. Well, fine. Maybe it was the latter, and maybe she deserved it. But as long as they were being honest, then she might as well go all the way. Who knew when she’d have a chance again? If she’d have a chance.

So, yes, despite everything that had happened tonight—despite what Matt had just said—there was something Lyndsey needed to say, too. It was something she should have said to Ian, of course, at least once during the year they’d been together; the whole healthy relationship thing had just been such a foreign concept to her that she hadn’t fully realized how she felt until it was too late. And it probably wouldn’t have changed anything anyway, especially if it had all just been an act on his part in the first place. But here she was, standing out here in the middle of nowhere on this dark and desolate night with Ian’s best friend.

Ian’s best friend who had just almost killed her, although that was mostly beside the point.

And even if Matt never said a word about this to anyone, Lyndsey felt like she still had something she needed to put out into the universe, something she needed to say out loud in the event there was even a one-in-a-million chance it would somehow get back to Ian. Maybe somehow lead him back to her.

Lyndsey looked at Matt and then away. It made it easier somehow. Tell him I still love him. Tell him that won’t ever go away.

Then she turned and ran as fast and as far into the darkness as she possibly could.

1

Present Day

Boston, MA

Ian Fox was having a good day. It was one of those amazing beautiful summer days that were few and far between—mid-80s, not an ounce of humidity, and sun shining high above the clouds scattered in a picture-perfect way. Plus, the Sox were on a winning streak that put nearly the entire city of Boston in a good mood. Ian hadn’t seen one unhappy person all day.

It certainly didn’t hurt that he’d gotten word earlier in the day that they’d be able to add on a new squad come October 1; the new recruits had surpassed all expectations on the General’s surprise review, and he’d had an unexpected chance to have lunch with some of his favorite people in the world.

Dad, one of them—his daughter Kate—was saying. "Can we please have dessert?"

Pretty please? her twin Annie added, matching her sister’s smile almost exactly.

He was inclined to say yes, as they no doubt knew. They’d caught him at a weak moment; it was a particular skill of theirs. At the same time, there was another kid and another set of parents sitting at the table; it wasn’t entirely his call.

I don’t know. His gaze moved from his daughters to his friends as he adjusted the jacket of his uniform. What do you say?

Matt Lee—Army buddy, brother in arms, all around good guy—looked first at his wife, Sarah, and then at his son, Josh. Although not blood-related, the three 14-year-olds had grown up together and, along with their respective younger brothers, formed a tighter unit than most families.

Shrugging, Matt took a look at the specials board. I do like their apple pie. He glanced over at Sarah. Split it with me?

Hell, no. Sarah grabbed at a glass Josh had just almost knocked over. I’ll take one of my own.

The smile on Matt’s face as he ducked his head was almost too much for Ian to handle, although it was something he’d gotten used to seeing a long time ago. Matt had fallen for Sarah the moment he set eyes on her as she worked the counter at her father’s bakery in D.C. fifteen years before. But as she turned to the girls and Josh in order to negotiate the terms, Ian had to look away.

Eight and a half years. Abby had been gone for eight and a half years. How was it possible she’d been gone for longer than they’d been together? And how was it possible for there to be moments like this where it still felt so raw? Moments that caught him completely off guard and took his breath away.

Belatedly, Ian realized Sarah was talking to him. …anything?

Her hand went to his arm as she asked; her eyes searched his. As the wife of his best friend—and the best friend of his deceased wife—she knew him almost as well as Matt did. Sometimes, Ian suspected, even better. After all, the crash that had killed Abby had also come close to killing Matt; Sarah had been Ian’s lifeline during those months just as he’d been hers. She could see the darkness come over him better than Ian could himself and lately she’d been trying to do something about it.

Oh, shit.

What? he asked warily as Sarah’s eyes narrowed and he realized she had something up her sleeve.

"You are coming Friday, right? she asked. You’d better not be cooking up some excuse not to."

Friday night was Matt and Sarah’s annual Fourth of July picnic and they did it up big. Sarah loved to entertain, and Ian loved to have an excuse to eat her cooking. It was suddenly occurring to him, however, that among the sixty or so guests she usually had, there might be a suspicious number of unattached women attending.

Ian looked around for the waitress. Now would be a good time to flag her down.

Sarah’s fingers tightened on his arm. "Right?"

Deciding just to confront it head on, Ian said, I’m a big boy; I don’t need to be set up. I can manage just fine on my own.

Then why don’t you? Releasing her hold on him, Sarah sat back and frowned. It’s been a long time, Ian.

I know exactly how long it’s been, Ian snapped.

Luckily the waitress appeared right then, asking about dessert. As curt as his response to Sarah may have been, the continuation of his thought might have been even harsher. Yeah, it had been over eight years; and, yeah, every once in a while, he ached to have someone there again. Someone to come home to, someone to, well… He was forty, not dead.

He still wasn’t ready, though; it wasn’t a scene he’d ever been comfortable with. And, frankly, he wasn’t sure he had the energy. Being a single parent to four kids, amazing as they were, took a lot out of a guy even with round-the-clock help. It was hard enough to build a relationship when you had all the time in the world; when you had about three minutes of peace on a good day—how the hell was that supposed to work?

That said, Sarah hadn’t deserved the response he gave her; she and Matt had something great, something she wanted for Ian as well. But although her heart was in the right place, it wasn’t a place he particularly wanted to be in with her.

Ian waited until the orders had been given and the kids were involved again in whatever discussion they’d been having. He leaned forward and gave Sarah the easiest smile he could manage. I’m good, Sarah. I really am.

Eyes welling up, Sarah placed her hand over his. Promise?

Damn it, Fox. Could you be any more of a jerk? I promise.

She pulled her hand away and wiped her eyes. Well, good. That doesn’t get you out of the picnic, though.

No, he didn’t think so. With a sigh, Ian signaled for the check.

Inaccessible? That’s what he said? Lyndsey tucked the phone against her shoulder, shifted her bags to her other hand, and raised her arm to hail a taxi. So much easier when everyone else in the world did Uber. I know, right? I mean, I’m one of the most accessible people I know.

You totally are, Tessa responded. So completely accessible.

Given that she was talking to her best friend in the world, Lyndsey normally wouldn’t have hesitated to add that the ‘he’ in question—Steve, her boyfriend—ex- as of about an hour ago—actually had a whole lot of not-very-complimentary things to say, including but not limited to her performance, as he had put it, in bed. Or lack thereof, more specifically, since her inaccessibility apparently also included a complete disinterest in participating in anything fun. Well, maybe that was because she’d gone the whole IUD route for him—not fun at all, especially when it involved a flight back to San Francisco because nothing about her body was normal, so God forbid she be able to go to just any old doctor. Whereas Steve had made clear time and again that he’d only go out of his way when it suited him. Jerk.

That part would have to wait, however, because a taxi pulled up right then. And despite Lyndsey’s wanting to pick apart every single word from this morning’s conversation, she had no interest in sharing those details with the driver, nice as he appeared to be. He looked up as she got into the back seat, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

The Canadian Consulate, Lyndsey said. Copley Place. She leaned forward. And could you hurry? I’m running kind of late.

Sitting back in the seat, she readjusted her bags. She’d spent far too much money and almost too much time investing in a little retail therapy. Between this morning’s break-up and this afternoon’s meeting, however, shopping had definitely been necessary.

Sweetie? Tessa said after allowing enough time for Lyndsey to be settled again. I love you with all of my heart. You’re my best friend in the entire world. But, um… She paused. The smile in her voice softened her words as she said, You’re not really very accessible.

Lyndsey sighed and looked out the window. No, she supposed, she really wasn’t. Not to most people at least. Tessa was one of a handful of people who knew Lyndsey—truly knew her. And, to be honest, she didn’t really have much interest in expanding that circle.

Except maybe by just a little bit.

I really tried this time, she said softly, not sure if the statement was made for Tessa or for herself. I… I really tried.

Tessa let that statement hang. As Lyndsey’s best friend, she knew when to push and when not to. This was definitely a not pushing time. What she’d also known by virtue of knowing Lyndsey inside and out, was that, well… Lyndsey hadn’t done better this time. Not even by a long shot. As per usual in the last, oh, decade or so, she’d pretty much made up her mind that he wasn’t worth the effort. He’d been fun for a little while, just like the guy before him, and the guy before that. But, yes, at a certain point, Lyndsey had just, to use his phrase, ‘stopped participating.’ She’d smile at jokes, speak when spoken to, but since she’d known it would only be a matter of time before he’d be out of her life, her heart had never really been in it. After two months of trying to pretend otherwise, there wasn’t really any point in denying it now.

Do you think I just pick the guys I won’t miss when they’re gone? she asked, feeling the words ring of truth as she said them. Once upon a time she’d had a man she loved so much she couldn’t imagine a day without him. Ian Fox. And then, just like that, he was gone. Been there, done that, so don’t want to relive the experience.

Of course, the problem with living your life that way was that it also meant you lived it alone. Which was all well and good when you were in your twenties and blazing your trail. By the time you hit your late thirties, all that blazing did was burn you out. Lyndsey was so burned out, in fact, that she’d uprooted her entire life—new job, new house, new coast—in hopes of finding a spark again. Something—anything—to make her want to jump out of bed each day and take life on. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt like that.

Well, no, she could remember it exactly; that was the problem.

Oh, Lyn… Tessa murmured, always sympathetic. She didn’t shoot it down, though.

Lyndsey shook off the melancholy. This was ridiculous. It was a bad day. She’d only been in Boston for three months, and she’d met Steve just a few weeks after she’d arrived. That they’d made it a whole two months was in itself a bit of a miracle. Plus, Lyndsey had promised herself at least a year before deciding whether the move was a mistake or not. After all, San Francisco to Boston was quite a switch. So what if she picked men she wasn’t going to lose her heart over?

And who really needed a man anyway? What Lyndsey really needed was to get over herself. She’d misread one guy in one situation. Sixteen years and she was still wondering how she’d gone so wrong with Ian—so wrong that she’d not only driven him away, she’d driven him directly into another woman’s arms. Of course, since she had gone so wrong, maybe she’d do better if she didn’t end up comparing every other man to him.

Maybe she’d only give it six months.

She looked out the window. If only this had happened on another day. The meeting this afternoon was already way beyond her comfort zone. Meetings were not Lyndsey’s strong point, especially not when she was on her own representing ZSJ. ZSJ Security Solutions, Inc., to be precise. She was much more a doer than a meeter. This was the ‘new’ part of her job, though—she’d pushed to be seen as more than just the implementation of the plan. Zachary, who was ultimately in charge, would not be happy if she screwed this up. As her mentor, though, he’d always been about her growth, so when she’d begun insisting that her being his business partner also meant expanding her role, he’d merely arched an eyebrow, put his hands together in one of those steeple-type things, and sat back. ‘Take Tuesday’s meeting solo, then. It’s all you.’

Considering Zachary was also among her long list of exes, she had a feeling he wouldn’t be too empathetic about her mental state at the moment. So, then. Tuesday, i.e., today, it was, break-ups or not.

Well, whatever. Monica Cain, some Canadian government muckety-muck, was Lyndsey’s first client ever. According to Zachary, Monica was getting pushback on hiring them to take on this job. She’d actually flown down from Ottawa to make her case. She wanted Zachary at the meeting, too, but he’d convinced her Lyndsey had no problem letting whoever asked know exactly how qualified she was. Still, Lyndsey wasn’t entirely looking forward to the experience. Sitting around a conference table with—at last count—twelve other people, eleven of whom would be breathing down her neck… It was definitely worth another few hours of shopping. After she’d been a responsible adult and gone to work, of course.

She said good-bye to Tessa and spent the rest of the cab ride looking out the window, lost in thought.

The taxi ride wasn’t nearly as long as Lyndsey expected it to be, even though she’d been told about Boston in the summer. It tended to empty out, apparently, thanks to the college students who made up such a huge part of the population during the school year. At least that’s what Lyndsey’s sister Morgan said; and since Morgan had lived in the area for almost ten years, Lyndsey considered her to be the resident expert. Lyndsey had moved into her new house in April and soon seen the difference first hand. Although she didn’t think it would ever give California a run for its money traffic-wise, she was more than happy to benefit from the lack of cars on the road and, therefore, an unexpected extra twenty minutes, even though she’d been running late to start with. And since the day was actually Southern California-gorgeous, she decided to have the driver stop and let her out at the far side of Copley Square. There was even time to grab a coffee.

As she walked out of the coffee shop, she nearly ran into a group of kids coming in. Mumbling her apologies, she stepped back, looking up as she did so. A boy and two girls. One of the girls, realizing Lyndsey was waiting for them to pass, smiled politely and said thank you. The smile didn’t carry to her eyes, though; in fact, she gave Lyndsey a strange look. It wasn’t until the three were in line—whispering about something and then turning back—that Lyndsey