Page 10 of The Rough Ride (Sanctuary, Inc. #3)

“ Y ou like the job, Erin?” Liz popped open the container of salad and chicken she’d brought for lunch and addressed the new hire Major Chan had introduced her to earlier that morning.

“Definitely. I like administrative work, and Major Chan seems like a good boss. Tough but fair. I’m looking forward to the challenge.” The twenty-something with jet-black hair scrutinized her sandwich.

“Good for you. That’s great.” Something about the girl was familiar. “Have we met before? What’s your last name?”

“Erin Carson.” She looked away and stirred her coffee.

Liz slipped a cucumber slice into her mouth, eased out a chair, and sat across from the young woman wearing goth makeup and trendy clothes.

Liz had silently admired her black lace-up heels every time she’d strutted down the hall that morning.

Sexy heels and a prosthetic didn’t really work.

Damn. She missed sexy shoes something terrible today.

“What’s your name again?” Erin inquired, and then stared intently at her cup .

“Liz Nelson.”

“Right. You’re in the third bullpen on the left. You’re the team leader, aren’t you?” She lifted her eyes and looked directly at Liz.

“Yes, great memory. Major Chan appreciates qualities like that.”

“What do you do exactly?” Erin took a sip of her coffee.

Liz leaned back and chewed a bite of chicken.

“Internet security.” She answered any question about her job the same way.

Rule #1 was never talk shop in the lunchroom.

An employee manual guideline insisted they never reveal what or whom they were working on outside of their bullpen.

If caseloads crossed paths within the building, which was rare, they’d find out later during the catch phase.

It was a simple first day mistake. The girl was new.

Erin laughed and tossed her hands in the air. “Well, duh, the whole building works on internet security. But what do you do ?”

Liz poked at a squirmy piece of red pepper and thought for a few seconds. “May I ask if you’ve read your employee manual yet?”

“Um, not completely. Why?” She crumpled the aluminum foil from her sandwich, tossed it at the recycle can, and made the shot.

“You’ll want to read it this afternoon. Especially the section on lunchroom etiquette.

Honest to goodness, that’s what the heading’s titled in the manual.

Just tell the Major you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, and she’ll understand.

” She punctuated the advice with a warm smile.

The last thing Liz wanted to do was offend the new girl on her first day.

Erin sat back and crossed her arms. “Lunch etiquette? Are you kidding me? ”

Liz shrugged. “I know it sounds weird, and it doesn’t have anything to do with napkins or cleaning up after ourselves.

There are a few choice instructions on conversation that you’ll want to read up on.

Most bone-up on it before their first day, but you came on board fast, so I get why you haven’t read it all yet. ”

“Oh, okay,” Erin shrugged. “Human resources mentioned it last week after I did the paperwork, but when I saw the size of the booklet, I set it aside.”

Liz nodded and repacked her lunch tote. Human resources did more than mention it. Those hounds repeated it six times during her entrance interview. “By the way, I like your heels. They’re beautiful. They look great on you.”

Erin pointed the toe of one elegant foot. “You think so? Thanks. I love them. Got ‘em at a clearance sale on Bloomie’s website. My boyfriend likes them, too, if you catch my drift.” She made a point of glancing at Liz’s shoes. “Guess you dress for function being a boss and all?”

Ouch. Maybe she’d buy the girl a real book on etiquette. “I’m more comfortable in these shoes. Sometimes, I spend hours on my feet.” Liz stood and gathered her belongings. “Sorry to cut this short, but duty calls. I’ve got more to do before lunch is over. Have a good afternoon.”

Liz headed straight for the nursing mother’s room. After that conversation, she was grateful to be the only nursing mother on this floor and to have the secluded space to herself. She set up the breast pump and attached the plastic bag with a little more force than necessary. It tore.

Shit. She pounded the table with her hand and grabbed another sani-bag.

It was a rare stranger who could cut her to the bone with one slice like Erin did.

That girl had no idea how much Liz wanted to wear a pair of high heels again.

A practical impossibility, unless Liz could find the fifty grand to purchase a custom prosthetic.

And she’d already been gifted a made-for-her swim foot from Johns Hopkins for her favorite sport and work with Sanctuary, Inc.

She really wasn’t in the running for a second prosthetic gift.

She took a series of cleansing breaths. Logically speaking, Erin didn’t know about her foot.

Liz had worn pants today and had only the slightest limp.

She turned on the breast pump, leaned into the plush, leather seat and tried to relax.

Her shoulders were one massive knot. She always got uptight when her breasts strained at her shirt.

She closed her eyes and let the pump do its thing. There was nothing intentional about Erin’s comment. Move on. Chalk it up to one of those moments when a stranger says something and has no idea that they offended. It happens to people all the time.

Why would anyone see the size of the employee manual and set it aside? The major hired only the most qualified applicants. Erin must have a resume of redeeming qualifications.

Eh, what the hell. She’d forgive and do her best to forget. First day faux-pas. No biggie. Get over it, Nelson. Let it go.

Liz tapped a finger on the armrest.

What was it that was vaguely familiar about Erin?

Liz pulled back from her computer screen and glanced at the clock.

She’d been sifting through her online identities for hours, answering posts, tweaking her responses, all in an effort to sift for more information.

Nobody was biting today. Not much chatter.

The unusual lack of conversation left her eyes watering and her brain searching for stimuli.

She kept drifting to Nick, last night’s surprise visit, and their dinner. The fact that he tried to have the vasectomy reversed after Paris revealed what? He was heartbroken that she had said no? He’d had a change of heart? Did it even matter?

Hell yes, it mattered. What if his test results got confused with someone else’s?

What if he just took longer to heal and wasn’t shooting blanks anymore?

She scrubbed her face with both hands and paced the small office.

Fresh coffee would be nice, but she nixed the idea.

The moment she opened the office door, she’d lose her train of thought.

She’d been sure the young officer she’d hooked up with was Ella’s biological father. So sure, in fact, that she’d mentioned her pregnancy to him in an email while recuperating in Germany. She’d been appalled at his response. “Well darlin’, guess you better get that taken care of real soon.”

She didn’t email him again.

It had been a deep, personal decision that came down to one thing.

Ella had survived the minefield, too.

If her little bean of a fetus had survived that blast, the cold shadow of death hovering over them as they’d waited for evacuation, the transport to Germany, the surgeries, the blood loss, and the drugs—then her baby had earned the right to live.

It was the quickest and clearest decision she’d ever made in her life.

No regrets. Then or now.

Even if it cost her Nick.

And there was the sucker punch to her gut. The past fifteen months had been the loneliest of her life. She’d never lied to him before, and each day that she hid Ella’s existence was another blow that might drive his heart from her forever.

She’d survived combat, but forever without Nick?

I have to tell him. But it would be so much easier if she knew if he was Ella’s daddy. Well now, that’s easy enough—not. How would she do it? Hand him a pee cup and ask for a sperm sample? Or maybe request a mouth swab because she wanted to investigate his ancestry?

Liz chuckled.

She knew her Nick. With any one of those options, she’d end up pinned beneath him laughing in a compromised position. And he’d love every minute of it. To be honest, so would she.

She needed to soldier-up and tell him. She’d hid it too long.

At first, the physical recovery from the blast had overwhelmed her.

She’d spent weeks between rehab and an armchair by her hospital room window staring outside.

She didn’t look ahead but digested, tried to accept the life forced upon her.

She’d grieved for the foot that no longer existed.

A fog had enveloped her as she struggled for purchase and worked to achieve physical and emotional balance.

And then she flew home to Walter Reed. The endless cycle of more rehab, prenatal visits, and the daunting challenge to jump-start her life consumed her.

She could’ve told Nick. They’d talked on the phone a hundred times.

But all she’d wanted was space and distance.

If she’d allowed him in her life at that point, she would’ve had to deal with his tragic emotions about the baby. Ella was her decision and hers alone.

She’d always been Nick’s sanctuary. He’d placed his heart in her hands years ago, and it would have been too much to deal with as she recovered. Especially because he’d made sure that children were never a part of their future.

And she couldn’t blame him for that. The abuse he’d suffered as a child was unimaginable to her. While they’d both had middle-class upbringings, her family life boasted of love and support while his nights and weekends belied fear and terror.

She rubbed her arms in an attempt to drive the cold shivers away. The only way to heal their relationship meant she had to risk harming it.

She’d tell him.

She’d invite him over for dinner. Keep Ella at the house, introduce her to him, and spell out the situation.

Her heart pounded just thinking about it.

She had a lot of explaining to do.