Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(24)

Once I’m all set to go, I step out into the hall. Farren is coming out of his room at the same time. And…wow! He looks delicious every day, but he’s exceptionally yummy right now. I sigh. Farren is male-model beautiful, but his dark, edgy side makes him sinfully hot. I can’t stop staring. He’s wearing a black suit that fits him to a tee, a white dress shirt, and a deep maroon tie. His raven hair is slicked back, and he’s freshly shaven. I want to touch his smooth cheek, trace the line of his strong jaw.

“Essalin?” Farren takes a step toward me, while I continue to stare at him like a deranged fool. “Is something wrong?”

God, no. Unless wanting you to take me back into my room and take all the clothes you just bought me off of me is wrong. I can’t say something like that, though.

I wave my hand around to give myself a chance to find my bearings. “I’m fine,” I reply once I’m back on track.

He takes a step closer, the hallway light glinting off his highly shined shoes. “Are you sure?” he asks softly.

“Don’t mind me,” I reply. “I was just having a moment there.”

Shit. Did I really just admit that? I’m not as on track as I thought.

Farren’s brows go up, and he inquires, “A moment?”

There’s mirth in his deep green eyes, eyes I could get lost in. But now is not the time.

Embarrassed, I mumble, “Stop, please,” and avert my gaze from his.

Chuckling, he says, “I’m just giving you a hard time, sweetheart.”

Ooh, sweetheart. I like this new term of endearment, even if it is attached to a comment that confirms this gorgeous man knows damn well the effect he’s having on me. The only saving grace to my dignity is that when I peek up at him from under my lashes, I notice that he is checking me out, too. And if his suppressed smile is any indication, he appears quite pleased with what the boutique sent my way.

Or maybe—and I’m hoping this is it—he’s just pleased with me.

“Shall we?” he asks, following his perusal.

When he gallantly offers his arm, I say, “Such a gentleman.”

“Hardly,” he scoffs.

I don’t press for elaboration, though I wonder what that means. With the hand not in the crook of his arm, I adjust a tendril of hair that slips from my upswept do.

“You look very beautiful tonight, Essalin,” Farren says on our way to the parking garage.

I look over at him. “Thank you. So do you.”

Farren smiles tenderly at me, and I melt.

The flirtations, mostly in the form of sidelong glances and lips pressed together to keep from smiling too much, continue all the way to the car. But on the way to the restaurant, things turn serious when I say, “So, tell me about your friend, Rick. How long have you two known one another?”

Farren breathes in deeply, exhales slowly. “A long time,” he says at last. “Over ten years. Rick and I served in the military together. We met on my first tour of duty. We became friends then.” After a lengthy pause, he adds, “That part of our past was a long time ago, though. More recently, we were been deployed to a lot of the same places…before we were discharged, of course.”

“So he was special ops, too?” I venture.

Farren glances over at me. “I should have guessed Haven would’ve told you all about that.”

“She did,” I confirm. And then I ask, “Is that okay?”

He nods, but when he fails to respond, I try to fill the silence by saying, “I imagine many of your special ops missions were not only secret, but also very…”—I search for a word—“dangerous.”

Farren laughs, but it’s devoid of humor. “Yes, Essa, all the missions were very, as you put it, ‘dangerous.’”

Okay, so obviously dangerous is not nearly a strong enough adjective to describe what Farren has experienced.

He appears to lose himself in thought, so I prompt, “Rick was on your team or whatever all the time, then?”

“Not all the time,” he clarifies, sighing. “But often, yes.”

“And you still work together in the private sector?”

“Yes.”

I want to get back to the special ops stuff, ask Farren what kinds of things he and Rick have had to do. I’m curious about all they’ve seen, which I imagine is a lot. But I know enough about Special Forces to know Farren probably isn’t allowed to divulge too much, particularly regarding the specifics of where he’s been or the things he’s done. Still, I long to learn more about this man I’m traveling with, especially in regard to the life he’s lived thus far. Farren is not just mysterious; he’s fascinating. I can’t imagine the things he’s seen and done...in the distant past and in the not-so-distant past.

And that brings me back to the here and now, with the same damn questions. What is it that Farren currently does for a living that has resulted in Haven’s abduction? I’m sure the two are connected. But how is he connected to Eric and Vincent? It’s all potentially disturbing, but I comfort myself with the possibility I may learn more when I meet his friend Rick.

A little while later, on the top floor of a downtown St. Louis high-rise, I do, indeed, meet Rick Martinez. He’s a very good-looking man, almost as attractive as Farren. When the two men greet each other in the dimly lit, mahogany-paneled lobby of the restaurant we’re to eat in, they display an easy camaraderie. It’s clear they trust one another quite a bit.