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“Okay… but that was eight years ago…”
I hear his unspoken question and nod. “For the first year or so, I made a point to stay single and focus on myself but after that, I promised myself I wouldn’t jump into bed or a relationship with just anyone. He had to be special and I guess no one has ever come along.”
“So you’ve just been living like a nun?”
I laugh, meeting his warm honey eyes. “Essentially.”
“Damn. The more I learn about you, the more interesting you get,” he comments and I meet his gaze, a blush rising to my cheeks as I smile.
“It’s all part of my master plan to trap you with a white picket fence and two point five kids. Now, it’s time to spill some of your emotional baggage,” I joke and he laughs, studying me as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“What do you want to know?”
I glance to the side of our table as a couple brushes by and wait for them to get far enough away before I turn back to him. “Will you tell me what happened to your dad?”
“Shit, you’re going right for the bull’s-eye, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to…” I start, but he holds his hand up to stop me.
“No, it’s okay. And it’s only fair.” His smile falls away and he sets his coffee down in front of him, taking a deep breath. “My parents had this charter plane business up in Alaska, still do actually… anyway, they would take tourists on sightseeing tours and help deliver supplies to some of the smaller villages, stuff like that.”
I nod for him to continue.
“My mom asked me to cover her one day ‘cause my sisters had been throwing up all night long and I was pissed but I went anyway. My dad was just running supplies so it should have been an easy day. Right around the time I expected him back, his voice came over the radio, telling me that the plane had gone done and that he was losing blood fast. I called nine-one-one and talked to him until the radio went silent.”
“Oh my god, Lincoln,” I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes for our shared pain. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shit, babe,” he whispers, his voice full of pain. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Wiping the tears away, I shake my head. “It’s okay. Everything is still so raw for me that I cry at the drop of a hat these days.”
He nods, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. “What happened to your mom?”
“We still don’t know,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “She was involved in a hit and run accident and Detective Rodriguez thinks the driver was drunk but there aren’t any witnesses or anything.”
“Rodriguez?” he asks and I nod.
“Yeah, you know him?”
He releases me and grabs his coffee, taking a sip. “The club works with him from time to time on cases.”
“Oh. What kind?”
Shrugging, he leans forward, propping his arms up on the table. “It changes. Sometimes he helps us and other times, we help him. It’s beneficial to both of us since sometimes, there are things that as a cop, he can’t do and vice versa.”
“Is the club super top secret or can you talk about it?” I ask and he laughs.
“I can talk about it to an extent. Why? What do you want to know?”
“Why do y’all do this? I mean, there are so many things you could do with your time, why go out of your way to help people?”
Nodding, he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “We each have our own reasons for why we do this. Each member has watched the injustice of this world and wished we could have done something to stop it. Now, we do.”
“It’s just so different from what I’ve heard about other clubs,” I say and he nods again.
