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“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, glancing back furtively over one shoulder. “For a little while, at least?”

Marcus, I knew, was on the ridge. That meant Holden was sleeping.

“Are you fucking kidding?” I swore excitedly, swinging my legs off the bed.

Forty-Three

ANDREA

We ran. That’s how exciting it was, finally getting away. Finally slipping the bonds of our little villa, to escape into the wide, moonless night.

It felt like we were two teenagers, escaping our parents. Like we were doing something forbidden and wrong. I knew that made it even more fun for Randall. Doing exactly the opposite of what he was supposed to do had always been his thing.

“Soo…” I said, as we made our way toward the glimmering city. “How long do you think we have before dad wakes up?”

Randall laughed. “If I know Holden? Four or five hours, at least.”

It was late but not that late. Holden had crashed surprisingly early, having just come off an extended stint on the ridge.

I grabbed my lover’s tattooed hand and pulled him down the hill. “We’d better move fast then.”

At the rate we were moving it didn’t take long. Soon we were on pavement, walking the winding, switchback streets leading down to the city proper. The town was lit beautifully at night. The sound of voices and laughter was like music to our ears, as we reached Taormina’s narrow, cobbled streets.

“Other people!” I cried, pausing just to look around. It was like getting oxygen again. Like coming to the surface after a long, deep dive.

It was late enough that most of the city’s restaurants were closing. The streets were still bustling with people, though. Streetlamps protruded from the stuccoed facade of lighted shops, illuminating the stone archways and wrought-iron balconies of the ancient city.

Without really talking about it we stuck to the crowds. We kept our heads low. It didn’t take long to find a beautiful outdoor lounge, where dozens of lacquered tables were lined in neat rows. Each one was lit by the warm, beige glow of a single candle.

Randall and I grabbed drinks and took seats near the end, in the even further darkness beneath a beautiful little tree. Five minutes after that we were hopelessly relaxed. Melting into the fabric of our elegant chairs.

“You have problems with authority,” I smiled, holding up my giant glass of Merlot.

He clinked his beer against it and sighed. “I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, but you have problems with authority and you joined the military,” I laughed. “Kinda a glutton for punishment, don’t you think?”

Randall smiled and shrugged. “There’s a little story behind that one.”

“Oh?”

“A bit boring, though.”

“Try me.”

The SEAL stared at me across our little candlelit table. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything. Then his eyes unfocused, and saw whatever tension was left in his body drain away.

“I grew up with absentee parents,” he said. “Mom was there, but fully checked out.

Dad was never around. The funny part was I have a fuck-ton of brothers and sisters. I’m the youngest of eight.”

“Holy shit.”

“Funny, that’s what we said, too.”

He took a pull from his beer and scratched at his beard. “Anyway, I had zero supervision. Allie — that’s the second oldest of our clan — well, she did her best with me, but it was a losing battle. As a kid I hated her always trying to boss me around, telling me what to do. Looking back now though, she was probably the best of them. The others were doing their own thing. No one but Allie really gave a shit.”

Seven siblings! I couldn’t even imagine it.