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CHAPTER ONE

ICEMAN

T wo Years Later

It wasn’t a day for riding.

New Orleans was usually hot and humid, but often, on blistering summer days like today, the heavens wept, but then, they had good reason.

I always found it crazy how I could sweat through one-half of my clothes while, at the same time, a tropical storm soaked the other half. NOLA’s climate was a bitch, and I didn’t miss it one fucking bit. But there was one thing I did miss, which was why I was here, paying my annual visit.

My wife.

Over my years serving in the United States Air Force, I missed a lot of Allie’s birthdays.

Once, I made God a promise that I’d never miss one again if he gave her back to me.

Even though he didn’t keep his end of the bargain, I always kept mine, even in death, maybe because of the guilt I’d buried somewhere deep for not being around for so many when she was alive.

Allie loved birthdays, Christmas, Easter, the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Superbowl Sunday. Those days were all about family and being together, and even though we weren’t blessed with kids, we had close bonds with our families .

I used to tease her relentlessly, telling her that no beautiful twenty-something woman liked to hang with her (and my) mom all weekend instead of going out and partying in the city with our friends.

But she’d just smile sweetly and tell me how spending time with family was a blessing we should never take for granted.

And it turned out she was right.

But then, my Allie was always the smart one.

And gorgeous.

And sweet.

And kind.

And funny, cute, adorable.

And mine, oh so fucking mine that some days I missed her so fucking bad that I felt as if I was slowly dying without her.

I had her for twenty-five years of my life, and she’d been dead for twelve, but I still felt her in everything I did.

Allie was the person I could sit in silence with and feel everything.

What we had wasn’t perfect. Hell, some days, she pissed me off to the point where I wanted to walk away and never go back.

But I always stayed because what we had was honest and real, and there was nobody else on earth who was worth fighting for more than my Allie.

Then she left me, permanently.

Over time, the pain of losing her became easier to live with.

I threw myself into my work and my new life because what else could I do?

My wife was a memory, and some days, I got scared when I struggled to conjure up the only face I never wanted to forget—because if there was ever a woman who deserved to be remembered, it was my Allie.

Rolling off the throttle of my Sportster S, I downshifted and braked until eventually, I came to a halt outside the ornate gates of the memorial park.

I could’ve ridden in, but my bike was noisy enough to wake the dead, and it would have been disrespectful.

Plus, as much as it crushed me every time I walked inside those gates, the time it took for me to get to Allie gave me a chance to get in the right headspace so I could face my wife.

Dismounting, I took my helmet off and hung it from the bars. Then I untied the balloons I’d fastened to my handlebars. A couple of them tried to make a break for it, but I hauled them back into submission before making my way inside what I could only describe as a park.

Allie loved nature, so trapping her inside a box didn’t seem right. She would have wanted to be outside with the trees and birds, so that’s what I gave her. I wanted a place where me and her family could come and be at peace, and more than that, I wanted her to be at peace, too.

Following the path that led to her always felt dream-like, and that day was no exception. I took in the flowers laid beside the plaques fixed flat into the ground and, for the millionth time over the years, wondered how somebody so full of life and so vibrant could be taken so suddenly.

Allie was eleven days younger than me. Our moms had been best friends since kindergarten, and I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t love her. My first memory was of Allie, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that her last thought would’ve been of me.

I knew everyone was there before I saw them because I heard the music and their laughter, so when I rounded the corner and saw them all sitting on fold-out chairs, holding beer bottles and sipping wine from plastic glasses, it wasn’t a surprise.

Jean, Allie’s mom, noticed me heading their way first. She put one arm in the air and hollered, “Woohoo! The wanderer returns. Come see.”

I grinned, shaking my head.

“What the fuck time do you call this!” my dad called out. “We’ve been here for hours. Where y’at?”

Taking in the empty bottles and his inebriated state, I believed him. “I’m good, Pop. It’s a long ride from Virginia.”

“I told you to fly in last night,” my mom berated, her words slightly slurred from the copious amounts of wine she’d no doubt been consuming.

My ma wasn’t a wine drinker—or really a drinker at all—but every year when we came here to party, she always cracked a bottle open in Allie’s memory ‘cause it was my wife’s drink of choice.

Leaning down, I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek, then turned and kissed Jean’s cheek too. “I told ya, I was working.”

“Partying more like,” she grumbled as I gave my dad, who’d stood up to greet me, a man hug, then leaned over and gave Allie’s father, Malcolm, a handshake.

“I was working,” I reiterated. “We were covering an amber alert, and they needed me to man the drone.”

“Did you find the kid?” Dad asked.

I leveled him with a look. “What do you think?”

Dad gave my shoulder a hard clap. “Good man.”

I got down on my haunches and tied the balloons to the roses laying by my wife’s name plaque.

“Miss you, baby,” I whispered, touching my fingertips to my lips and then the plaque. “Happy birthday.”

Allie’s voice echoed through my head. Miss you, too, honey.

I stood and turned toward my family, nodding as Malcolm gestured to the empty chair beside him.

“How long did it take ya?” he asked.

“About fourteen hours,” I replied, picking my way over and taking the seat. “I rode through the night, so I missed all the traffic.” My eyes fell back onto the massive bouquet I’d had delivered to my mom’s house the day before. “Flowers are pretty. Allie would’ve loved ‘em.”

“She would,” Jean breathed, her eyes falling on the red roses. “They were always her favorite, and you never forgot. I love how you still don’t forget.”

Silence fell over the group, no doubt because we were all thinking back to the times we gave Allie flowers, and she acted like somebody had given her the Hope Diamond.

My wife loved the simple things. She was also stubborn and liked me to splash out on birthdays, so a bunch of gas station flowers wouldn’t cut it. Once, as a joke, I gave her a rose in a vial. For a while there, I thought I’d be walking around with it shoved up my ass for the rest of my days.

“How’s Hendrix?” my dad asked, taking a sip of beer.

I grinned. “Good. Loved up and taking to fatherhood like a duck to water. He’s obsessed with JT. Poor kid doesn’t get a minute’s peace from him.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Malcolm interjected.

My thoughts went to my bud and how he’d pined for his woman over the years they’d been apart. “I did. Knew if he ever got another shot with Anna, he’d make it work. It was rocky there for a while, but he did the job. I’m happy for him. She’s a good woman and a great mom. He deserves this.”

“You deserve it too,” Mom murmured. “Isn’t there a girl who’s caught your eye? You’re still young, Jacob, and Allie wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

Heat burned through my throat.

The answer was no.

I always thought I was lucky to meet the love of my life so young, but after Allie died, it quickly became a curse. How was I meant to find something that special again? Whoever I met had a lot to live up to, and it wasn’t fair to compare any woman to perfection.

In all the time since Allie’s death, I’d come across two women who made me feel something. One of them was now married to a brother, Atlas, and had two daughters with him, whereas the other...

A vision of blonde hair flashed behind my eyes, and my heart leaped ten feet high, though, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand my ongoing reaction to her. We only ever got to spend one night together, and I hadn’t seen her in years.

“No,” I muttered. “It’s hard to beat perfection.”

Dad’s hand reached out, clasped my shoulder, and squeezed. “She means well,” he said under his breath. “You take the time you need, Son.”

“It’s been twelve years, Doug,” Ma cut in. “Jean and I want grandchildren, and Jacob’s not getting any younger,”

“Kathy, will you leave the boy alone?” Dad bit back, his tone exasperated. “He’s still in mourning.”

“He’s hardly a boy,” Ma sniffed. “He’s knocking on forty’s door. Allie would slap him upside the head if she saw how he was wasting his life away.”

Jean shrugged. “She’s got a point.”

Malcom sighed.

Dad’s lips pursed.

I grinned. “Hardly wasting my life, Mom. I run with a band of mercenaries, fly planes, shoot evil motherfuckers, and generally help save the day. If I never had another girlfriend again, I’d die a happy man ‘cause, for a while at least, I had Allie and even knowing her means I’ve been luckier than some. ”

“Do you date?” Jean asked quietly. “Allie would want you to date.”

The memory of the train I helped run on Tia forty-eight hours before flashed through my mind. “I see women,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t call it dating. ”

“Those girls at the club don’t count.” Mom sniffed haughtily.

“What do you know about girls at the club?” I asked.

Her eyes bored into mine. “I’ve seen Sons of Anarchy .”

“So have I,” Dad muttered. “And I reckon those girls count just fine.”

Daggers flew from Mom’s eyes at Dad’s head.