Run To You

was true. He’d said that, but he acted like one.
    “He’s a Marine.”
    A Marine. Of course he was. It all fit. The thick neck. The short hair. The hard ass. The— Wait! She’d just confessed to stealing a padded bra to a Marine. This time the pinot didn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck and warming her cheeks. Stella tipped up her glass and drained it.
    “Beau joined the Marines.” Pride shone in Naomi’s brown eyes. “He’s a HOG.”
    Stella choked a little in the back of her throat. He certainly ate a lot, but his table manners looked acceptable to her. Last night he’d kind of gobbled down his flan, but she wouldn’t call him a hog.
    “My other son, Blake, followed their father into the Navy, but when the boys were little they used to play Batman and Robin.”
    Beau removed his gaze from Stella’s and turned his attention to his mother. “We used to fight over who was Batman and who was Robin.”
    “Yes.” Naomi sighed as if those were the days. “It got so bad, I had to buy one of you a Batman costume and the other Superman. They were just precious.”
    “Then we fought over who was more hardcore. Batman or Superman.”
    “The two of you still do.” Naomi frowned, and suddenly looked a lot like her son. “Just last Christmas the both of you almost ruined brunch with your nonsense.”
    “Were you Superman?” Stella asked.
    “Of course.”
    Of course.
    “Superman can fly and lift buildings,” he answered as if that made perfect sense. “Batman has to rely on gadgets.”
    “Did you have a red cape?”
    “Can’t be Superman without the cape.” He sat back in his chair.
    “Tights?”
    He shook his head. “It was called a jumpsuit.”
    She couldn’t imagine him in tights any more than she could imagine him in nail polish. “Potato-potahto.”
    “My boys were so cute when they were babies. Blond and snuggly,” Naomi continued down memory lane, Christmas brunch apparently forgotten.
    Snuggly? Baby boy was snuggly? Stella raised a hand and hid her smile.
    Beau saw it anyway. His gaze narrowed but he didn’t look angry. “Are you laughing?”
    She shook her head.
    “I used to dress them in matching sailor suits.” Again Naomi sighed. “Remember Michelle Alverson?”
    Without taking his gaze from Stella, Beau answered, “No.”
    “Your prom date from Coronado High School. She’s a lawyer. Divorced with a young son.” Naomi paused before she added, “We’ve been chatting.”
    Beau looked at his mother and reached for his glass. “She lives around here?”
    “No. Chicago. We’re Facebook friends.”
    “Facebook? Jesus.”
    “Watch your language.”
    “Are you back to picking out china patterns?”
    “I’m never far from it, son. All the women I know my age have three or four grandchildren. All I need is one.” She held up a finger. “One. I’m not greedy.”

Chapter Six
    A thin white crescent hung over Tampa while the rest of the new moon hid in the Earth’s shadow, blending into the night sky.
    It was the perfect moon. A sniper’s moon. A dark, brooding moon under which it was difficult to see or be seen. Unless a man was trained by the United States Marine Corps to stalk and lie in wait for an enemy determined to take out his fellow soldiers. Unless a man was trained to note his surroundings and pay attention to things that didn’t make sense and detect shapes that didn’t belong. And if all that training failed a man, a pair of government-issue night-vision goggles and a day/night scope did the trick.
    “No. I can’t drive her to Texas. Reuniting long-lost sisters is above my pay grade.” Beau paced beside the pool as he spoke into his cell phone. An eight-mile-an-hour wind from the south pushed wavy ripples across the clear surface and brushed Beau’s bare chest and arms. Underwater lighting shone on the blue Neptune mosaic tiles and spread onto the concrete deck above. The light wavered across Beau’s bare feet as he moved between the spots of light and darkness.
    “That’s why you’re not getting paid,” Blake responded.
    “I have a job Sunday.” Never mind that it was more a business discussion with a buddy and not an actual job. Beau stopped by the steps to the Jacuzzi at one end and looked out at the points of light in the gulf. He’d stripped to a pair of blue swim trunks that hit him mid-thigh. “I have a business to run.”
    “It’s your company,” Blake said, a slight edge to his voice. “You can take time off if you