7X5X15 : Book 2

By AJB

NOTE: Book 2 takes place in the present time (2013) and a little over 10 years from the conclusion of Book 1.

CHAPTER ONE

Marissa Crane squared the pile of papers in her hands and shoved them into a folder, wondering when society would truly become paperless. Stacking the folder to the right of her keyboard, she realized that although this part of the job was mundane, the benefits of this media internship were extremely worthwhile. Where else would a single girl have access to so many physically attractive men?

Her friends were already jealous and this was only the beginning; covering the Olympic trials would take many months and Marissa would see these (mostly) young men regularly for a long time. Oh, the women, too, of course, and she really did admire their accomplishments, but what red-blooded American woman could ignore all these fit men? She hoped the internship with the news station would carry through both the trials and the actual Olympics in Rio de Janeiro.

She chuckled. Her mom's reaction to the internship was funny. All she said after closing her hanging jaw was, "You could meet Mr. Right!" Marissa snorted to herself. Leave it to her mom to come up with that arcane thought. Right now, "Mr. I Can Stomach Your Bad Habits For a Few Months" sounded pretty good. She glanced at her watch. She could see Happy Hour from here.

Marissa noted that there was only one more interview for the day and lifted her eyes when she heard the field office door squeak open. She fought to keep a pleasant smile because, like her mother, Marissa's jaw wanted to drop as soon as she saw the young man that entered.

He slipped in like a cat – no, not a cat, she immediately corrected, more like a mountain lion. A kind mountain lion... Marissa bit her lower lip and ducked her head in confused embarrassment. "A kind mountain lion? What the heck does that mean?"

Mentally scolding herself, she checked that her closed mouth formed a nice smile before looking up again. When she did just that, her body froze in stunned bewilderment when she found her gaze locked with the biggest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

Seconds ticked by.

"Excuse me?" he said after glancing aside.

Marissa forgot to blink as she sank into the deep lakes that were his eyes. His voice had a raspy quality that ran a shiver up her spine. Marissa finally did blink when she realized she was staring. A warm flush bloomed on her cheeks and she aborted the urge to shuffle papers until the sudden flutter in her tummy settled. She noticed wariness edging his eyes and an adorable furrow developing between his eyebrows. Her mouth dried. "Get a grip, woman!"

"Yes. Yes. Um." Was that her voice? "Come on, Marissa! Speak! Use your words!" She affixed her smile and grabbed the edge of her desk to keep her hands still. "You're interviewing?" she squeaked. She cleared her throat. "I mean, you're here to talk? I mean, interview?" She sighed, gave up on getting control of her mutinying body and rolled her eyes with a groaned sigh.

Regrouping, she took a breath and pointedly stacked her hands, one on top of the other, on the desk top before meeting those amazing azure pools again. Amusement sparkled there like sunlight on a mountain lake. She forced herself to hold her business-like smile. "Sorry. Long day," she managed. "You are here for an interview, correct? Mister -" She glanced at the remaining file to her left. "Tanner?"

"Yes ma'am. You can call me Vin."

Normally, a line like that lacked the "ma'am" and carried an "I bet you'd like to get to know me!" attitude but this young man oozed sincerity from every pore. It was a distraction and, frankly, quite unlike the arrogant pride she'd seen these past weeks.

"Alrighty, then, Vin. Please have a seat. Mr. Duggan will be done in a few minutes." "Alrighty then? When have I EVER used that phrase?" She cleared her throat. "Can I get you some water?" ". . . and help you out of that shirt?" Marissa held the smile on her face while the burn of her blush intensified.

"No, but thanks." He smiled.

Ignoring her suddenly heated face, Marissa forced her body to move and pushed to her feet, indicating a chair against the wall by extending one arm. She knocked over a small container of pens on the high counter. "Oh shit," she breathed, then, realizing what she said, felt her burning cheeks elevate to nova levels. "Oh, damn. I mean . . . oh hell!" Scrabbling for the pens, Marissa couldn't believe her mouth's refusal to stop babbling like a teenager. "I. Am. Sorry." She forced out between her teeth after making a point to unlock her eyes with his and focus on the mess. The young man's chuckling did not help at all, and he continued to help until they corralled the last pen.

Marissa whispered embarrassed thanks and got a short nod of acknowledgement. Vin Tanner then wandered to the lobby chair after turning a small circle, examining every corner of the small waiting area. Marissa took the opportunity to glance in his file and unscramble her brain.

Vincent M. Tanner, just 23 years old, Modern Pentathlon.

"Really?" Marissa's brow arched as she tried to remember what exactly was in a Pentathlon – "Didn't that Kardashian guy do that? No, that was Decathlon – ten events. This is five events."

Her thoughts were interrupted when the interview room door opened, allowing some laughter from within to leak into the lobby. Then her boss, Mr. Duggan, escorted a wiry girl through the reception area.

"Janice Piper – long jumper," Marissa recalled, relieved her brain cells worked again.

"Thank you, Janice," Mr. Duggan said in his low, full voice. "I'm sure we will see more of you soon! Good luck."

After only one week of this job, Marissa recognized a wash out when she heard one. Tony Duggan's job was to gather background on potential Olympic stars for the on-air television profiles. Marissa was beginning to appreciate the art of uncovering the handful of gems that would get America cheering and boost broadcast ratings. Duggan could put an award-winning spin on a dead mouse. He really had a knack the job, and she saw the journalistic wheels in his eyes chug into overdrive the moment they focused on Vin Tanner.

Unperturbed, Tanner looked up and returned the evaluating gaze.

The camera would love this pentathlete. The softly worn jeans were relaxed yet snug in all the right places and the button-down western style shirt would be a joke on anyone else. The clean, casual cowboy look, from the dusty boot tips to crown of his untamed hair, worked for him in every way possible. Marissa prayed he wouldn't fall victim to the shaved-head style so popular these days. Every part of him screamed "outdoorsman" and physically, he was made to market sportswear.

Duggan must have seen that from the start, but aside from all that, there was something special about this young athlete that even she could see. She wondered what was in Duggan's private files, which held reports from his many agents in the field. The get to this lobby, there had to be some kind of "buzz" surrounding Tanner.

Marissa vowed to read what she could, and soon.

"Vin Tanner." Duggan extended his arm and Vin accepted the handshake without hesitation. "I'm Tony Duggan with the network. I've heard some interesting things about you."

"That's why I'm here?"

Duggan chuckled. "Yes, that's why you're here. Come with me." He turned and was leading the way into the small, makeshift studio when Marissa spoke.

"Mr. Duggan? Since Mr. Tanner is the final interview for the day, may I listen in?" Marissa ignored the glow in her cheeks; at least her vocal cords, again connected with her brain, managed to come up with a coherent sentence.

"Sure," Duggan said. "Just lock the lobby door and close the studio door after you're inside."

"Thank you, sir." Marissa edged around the desk and walked to the office door, locking it with a quick twist of her wrist. When she turned to follow them, she looked up and saw that Tanner had paused in the studio doorway. "He looks scared," she realized, but the cool, serene blue of before replaced the fear that quickly crossed his eyes. His eyes then flicked up to hers and she swore he blushed. Then, he ducked his head and followed Tony into the studio without a backward glance.

Marissa wondered if she imagined the whole thing. She stopped in the studio doorway and listened as Tony introduced the camera man, and then his personal assistant, Davy, whose job was to document the interview timeline.

"Have a seat." Mr. Duggan indicated a tall stool set against an off white wall with the station logo in the center.

The cameraman checked the lighting and got the camera rolling as Tanner cautiously perched on the stool and glanced around. His face was unreadable but his eyes were bright and alive. Marissa looked at the monitor image – yes, the camera loved this face.

Tony sat in a sling-type chair across from his subject and opened a file in his lap. "So, Vin. Oh, may I call you Vin?"

"Yes, sir."

"Modern Pentathlon. Quite an unusual category. How did you come to choose that discipline?"

Vin flashed a nervous smile before speaking. "It happened to have elements of things I am familiar with, that I grew up with. Except for fencing. I started learning that one about six years ago."

Tony glanced at the file. "Six years ago – that would make you 17 when you started fencing?"

"Sixteen, actually. After I started high school."

"Why fencing? Wasn't swimming, running, shooting and riding horses enough?"

Marissa only now appreciated the skill Tony possessed. The way he asked the question made it sound as if he was speaking to his best friend. She smiled when she realized his voice made her relax but when she looked to his subject, she frowned in puzzlement. Tanner's eyes were, again, tinged in wariness.

"I, um . . . I'm not sure I can tell you."

Tony's brow quirked with interest; the comment hung there like a challenge. "It's okay, think about it for a minute until you find the words."

Vin ducked his head and shook it, his tawny hair an unruly ripple. He nervously massaged the back of his neck. "No, it's not that," he said while studying the floor. Then he raised his head, dropped his hand to his lap and sat up straight. "It's just that I'm not used to talking about my family. They're pretty private guys."

There was a rough quality to Tanner's voice and his words were anything but tentative. His strength of character exploded on the monitor when he spoke. Marissa saw the cameraman focus on Tanner's eyes for a moment. America would eat this kid up.

Tony's chuckle intended to put Tanner at ease, but there was little change in Vin's body language.

"I have to say, that's refreshing," Tony said, "but there are things in this file that fascinate me, Vin. You're an athlete I cannot figure out."

Vin blinked, surprised. "What's to figure out?"

"As a reporter, I'm curious. I can't figure out what drives you. Why you want to do this, why you compete at all. And honestly, from what I've read, you do not look anything like I pictured." Tony closed the file and tipped his head as he regarded Tanner. "I purposely avoid looking at photos prior to these interviews and I have to tell you that after reading about you, you do not look anything like I pictured in my head."

Tanner's features softened and a glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes. "What did you expect?"

"Definitely not someone that looks as innocent as you do."

To her amazement, Vin smiled. She expected embarrassment, anger or even a challenge. Marissa perked up. What was in that file, exactly?

"You've had a hard life," Tony continued.

"Some would say it started out that way, yes," Vin nodded, shifted slightly and looked pensive. "I guess my reluctance comes from wanting to protect my family like they have protected me."

Whoa. Marissa blinked, and then vowed to get her hands on that file. Many athletes at this level had publicity agents and looked for exposure. Tony tracked around the issue but Marissa knew he'd get back to that statement.

"No one seems to know much about your team. Coaches, I should say. It's quite a staff you have at your disposal."

The smile that statement wrought caused Marissa to tingle all over. She heard a low cough from Duggan's assistant as he shifted in his seat. Was he blushing?

"They're my family," Vin replied.

"I do hear that a lot, but it's not unexpected considering –"

"No, you don't understand." Tanner's voice strengthened with conviction. "They are my family. They were before I started training. I've known them, well, pretty much all my life. That's probably why you haven't heard of them. They aren't professional sport coaches."

Even Tony seemed taken aback at the statement. "They aren't professionals?"

Vin shook his head, smiling, and his entire frame curved slightly as tension drained away. This was a subject he loved, Marissa realized.

"No. They've saved my life more than once. And my brother's life."

Tony glanced at the thin folder. "You have an adopted brother. You're adopted."

"Yes."

"Do you know anything about your blood relatives?"

"No, my mother died when I was about five. I don't remember much about her except that she told me to remember I would always be a Tanner. That's why I never changed my name."

"To . . . Larabee? As in Christopher Larabee? Your adoptive father?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's unusual for a single man to adopt one child, let alone two."

"Buck Wilmington adopted JD, not Chris. JD's not related to me in any way but we're brothers just the same."

"Larabee and Wilmington are listed as two of your coaches along with Ezra Standish and Patrice Naylor. Your team also includes Nathan Jackson as your personal trainer and Josiah Sanchez as your advisor? Not many athletes have an advisor."

Vin smiled again. "Well, we couldn't really think of a title for Josiah. He does a little of everything. He keeps all of us centered. Kinda like a spiritual advisor, I guess."

"I see. And Patrice Naylor is your fiancée, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

Marissa issued a sigh of regret along with Tony's assistant, Davy. They glanced at each other, embarrassed.

Tony closed the folder and placed it in his lap, resting his hands on top. Leaning back into the sling chair, he looked directly at Vin.

"I am very curious as to why you have such a team. From what I've heard from my agents on the field, you are a tight-knit bunch."

"Like I said, we're family."

"How exactly did that come about?"

The crew remained mesmerized as Vin Tanner told the tale of how Chris Larabee's ATF team rescued two boys and saved them from a life of homelessness. Marissa hugged herself at the end, warmed by the entire story.

"But they are not with the ATF any more, are they?"

"Not anymore, no."

"I heard you were kidnapped not long after being adopted by Chris."

Vin nodded. "That's true. I was missing for 2 years."

Marissa gasped. "Seriously?" she thought, horrified.

"Tell me about it."

Tanner chewed the corner of his lower lip for a second before speaking, "I was about 8 years old. Chris was driving us home one night and hit a deer. Someone took me from the truck while Chris was unconscious. I ended up with a drug dealer in a northern Colorado. He kidnapped me to keep his sister company. Chris and the guys found me."

The brief summary had more holes than a truck load of Swiss cheese and Marissa was surprised Tony did not follow up. By the matter-of-fact way Vin spoke, Marissa figured a lot of counseling made it possible for him to live with that part of his life. She thought he was finished and was shocked when he added more.

"Then the dealer's partner tried to kill me to keep me from testifying against him, but Chris protected me. All of them protected me. I would be dead if it wasn't for them."

Tony waited a few seconds to make sure Vin was done. "You were lucky they were in law enforcement."

He shrugged."I 'spect."

Marissa blinked, mentally rehashing the clipped summary. To have survived that and thrive; she looked at him with newfound awe.

"But most of them quit within a year of your return."

Tanner gave a silent shrug accented with a crooked grin that made Marissa's body tingle. "That's true."

"Why?"

The following span of silence stretched should have been uncomfortable, but Marissa found her entire attention drawn to the ripples of expression that crossed the young athlete's features. She glanced at the camera man and saw the subtle motions of his focusing on Tanner's face; he saw it too, as the slightly uncomfortable set to the subject's body tensed.

Marissa realized that Vin Tanner wasn't upset about the question; it was as if he never really thought about it before and doing so now, in front of strangers and in front of a camera, was far enough out of his backyard to trigger a fight-or-flight response. When he finally spoke, his guileless eyes were oddly shuttered.

"I . . . I don't know." He stuttered so miserably Marissa had to fight the urge to gather him up protectively. "I'm sure my dad getting hurt had a lot to do with it. Looking back, anyway."

Tony noticed the subject's uncomfortable shift and rose, offering his hand and a pasted on smile that reminded Marissa of a fighter finding a weak spot in the opponent. "Well, it looks like we're out of time, Mr. Tanner," he said as he shook Vin's hand, who looked both relieved and disturbed. "I'd love to follow your progress. Will you meet with me again?"

"Uh, sure. Josiah – um, Mr. Sanchez – knows my schedule before I do. Arrange it though him?" He stepped back, a bit shaky on his legs.

"I will do that. Thank you for your time, Vin. I really appreciate it and I will be following your competitions." Tony nodded to the door. Vin rose and almost bolted through the studio door like a spooked horse.

He must have realized how he appeared because as he reached the outside door, he paused, then turned with an apologetic smile. "Um, sorry about . . ." He waved his arm toward the studio. "I have issues about closed places without windows. Can we meet in the open next time?"

"Sure, Mr. Tanner. Whatever you need. We'll talk soon."

Marissa stopped at the studio entrance to watch the short exchange before Tony release Vin out the lobby door. She swore she saw relief wash over Vin's face when he stepped out into the open. He took off at a strong jog.

Used to Tony's abrupt style, she was surprised that he watched Vin until he was out of sight before closing the door and engaging the lock. When he turned and headed toward her, she saw that he was thinking, hard.

"Davy," he snapped as he passed Marissa on his way into the studio. "He's on my list. Find out all you can about that team of his. There's something about that young man –"

"You can say that again," Marissa thought just as Tony turned his sharp eyes on her.

"Help Davy with that research." Then Tony turned to the cameraman. "Well? Does he look as good as I think?"

"He's made by Mattel, sir. Couldn't ask for a more photogenic face – he's a big improvement from Phelps!" The assistant laughed and Tony chuckled.

"From what I hear, he's destined for the first gold for the U. S. in Pentathlon, ever. A real natural. And get this – he's turned most of what little sponsorship money he been given over to charity. This guy's too good to be true. We need to check him out thoroughly, capiche?"

"Yes, sir," Davy agreed.

"I don't want any surprises. If we feature him, we have to know there aren't any skeletons lurking in his closet. Doubtful, with a team of former law enforcement but maybe there's a reason they quit that won't look good." Tony focused on Davy again. "Thoroughly vet him out."

"We're on it." Davy slipped by Tony and snagged Marissa's elbow. "Let's go, girl. Time for work!"

TBC