Wrapped Up In You: A Military Romance (Unwanted Soldiers Book 2) Read online

  The pen scratched in the silence as he wrote. "How close are you?" Steady blue eyes regarded me, waiting for confirmation of the conclusions he already came to on his own.

  I shook my head. "No, it's not like that." A nervous little half-laugh escaped. "We share coffee over the balcony railing on nice Saturday mornings. He tells me which movie he saw the night before, and I tell him a little about my class." I shrugged. "Other than that, we say hello if we meet in the hall. That's it."

  "I see." More pen scratching notes. "Does Mr. Reis have a drug or gambling habit? Anything like that?"

  "Of course not." The very idea offended me for Chris. "He's very conscientious of the rules, and always follows them. He's the absolute last person to be involved in anything like that."

  The notepad slipped into his shirt pocket. "Okay, Miss Mendez, that's all I need for now." He passed a business card across the table. "Please, if you think of anything else, give Detective Jergens a call." He got awkwardly to his feet, ready to leave.

  I stood. "Officer Higgins?"

  "Yes?"

  "Has something happened to Chris?" I offered up my silent prayer again.

  "I'm sure he's fine, Miss Mendez. We're just following up to be sure." The words did nothing to convince me.

  "Okay. Uh, I'll show you out." By the time we reached the front desk again, complete with whatever jingly things rode along on Officer Higgins' belt, Mrs. Nealy chatted softly with another teacher behind the counter. "Mrs. Nealy, the Officer is leaving now, if you'd care to sign him out." From the looks the pair sent my way, I had no doubt the topic of their conversation. Gossip traveled in this place like head lice.

  She shoved the Visitors Log over the counter and waited while Officer Higgins filled in the time of his departure, then showed himself to the door. "Everything okay, Miss Mendez?" Mrs. Nealy's voice scraped over my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard as I started away.

  I turned back to face her with a smile. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be? Thanks for asking, though." My hasty retreat turned out to be short-lived.

  "Miss Mendez, I thought I heard your voice." The school counsellor poked her head from her office. "Do you have a minute? I need to get IEP meetings scheduled."

  "Sure." Behind the closed door of the counsellor's office, I pulled out my phone and tapped through screens to find my schedule. "We have Demetra and Tommy this month, right?"

  "Yes, but first you should know, Mrs. Nealy is trying really hard to find out why you would have a handsome police officer visiting you at school."

  An exasperated laugh betrayed my annoyance at the blatant digging for information. The entire administrative staff learned those skills directly from the Queen of Gossip. "I'll just bet she is." Why on earth did I have to come back to my home town after college? Everyone here knew everyone else's business. Even in a different part of town, people still pried into everyone's secrets. All the way on the other side of the sprawling city, no one knew me, or bothered with my past. They were too busy trying to dig up fresh dirt.

  She clicked a few things on her computer. "Okay, I can set Demetra up on the fourth…" She continued on, arranging the dates and times for the appointments. "I'll make sure everyone can make these, and confirm with you next week."

  I finished putting the appointments on my schedule. "Okay, thanks. I'll talk to you then." I prepared myself to run the gauntlet of Mrs. Nealy's scrutiny once more, and showed myself out. Lucky for me, the old woman was actually working, signing for a delivery, and I managed to slip by without further questions. I knew I only postponed the inevitable. Either she, or one of her countless minions, would ask again before the day ended.

  I returned to my classroom just in time for Hayden to vomit all over his mat. The ensuing squeals put a definite end to quiet time, and I really didn't mind. The flurry of activity and calls to reach Hayden's mother meant less time to think and worry. With the mess cleaned up and Hayden safely waiting in the Nurse's office for his mom, we moved on with the daily routine.

  Later, Carrie came back to finish up for the day after putting the last child on the bus for home. "Everything okay, Azia? You've been quiet all afternoon."

  I sighed and finished putting smiley faces on papers. "I'm fine, just a little tired, I guess. Ready for the weekend." Would Chris be there for coffee in the morning? I surely hoped so.

  "Oh, I know, it's been the longest week!" She launched into a recap of the afterschool activities her own children kept her busy with, while she helped get supplies ready for the following week. "Summer can't come soon enough for me this year."

  I couldn't contain a laugh. "Are you sure?"

  She groaned. "Oh, God, what am I saying? No, I'd rather skip summer than be confined all day every day with my four." Moving on to her next task, she continued. "So when are you going to settle down and make Mr. Riley a happy man?"

  The words raised gooseflesh on my arms. "Not happening. He likes himself a bit too much." He also liked me, more than a bit too much, but I couldn't tell her that. The popular male teacher absolutely gave me the creeps.

  "He's a good catch."

  For someone else, maybe. "Not my type." Couldn't she just drop it?

  Carrie laughed. "You've said that so many times, I almost believe you. Hun, he's nice looking, has a job, and comes from a good family. What more could you ask for?"

  I didn't bother to stifle my groan. "It sounds like you're selling me a dog, or a used car! Enough, already." Turning too quickly, I nearly fell over the vase of roses sitting on the floor behind my desk. I'd taken them out to be sure I didn't forget and leave them over the weekend, but with my luck, I would break my neck on them.

  The stark reminder sent another wave of gooseflesh over my arms. Please, no. Autopilot carried me through the next few minutes, until I could safely wish Carrie a good weekend as we signed out. In my rush to drop the vase into the dumpster on my way to my car, I nearly ran into Mr. Riley.

  "Well, hi Azia! Beautiful flowers. Is it a special occasion?" His too-perfect smile annoyed me.

  I forced a smile. "No, they must have been delivered by mistake." I tried to go on, but he fell in beside me.

  "Maybe a secret admirer?" Jealousy tinged his voice.

  I laughed. "Unlikely. I think everyone has the message that I'm not in the market." At least I hoped so.

  His chuckle made my skin crawl. "You may not think you are, but believe me, a beautiful single woman is always in the market for one thing or another."

  I finally made it to the dumpster, and the glass vase shattered as it thunked against something when I tossed it all in. Turning, I smiled. "Have a great weekend, Mr. Riley." I hurried toward my car, determined not to let his sleaziness get to me.

  God, I needed to wash my hands. Even after handling the vase, the scent of the roses permeated my skin, nauseating me. If I never saw another rose in my life, it would be too soon. Each bouquet preceded something terrible, and I could only sit by helplessly and wait for it to happen.

  Chapter Two

  Flag

  A pang of something like jealousy hit me full in the fucking chest as Trick answered my knock at the door of the hospital room. "Come on in, brother."

  "Everyone decent?"

  Lauren laughed. "Of course. Come on and see him." She was beautiful, even after giving birth just a few hours ago. In another life, I might have had that. I shook the feeling off. No good could come from dwelling on it. The chance was long gone.

  I put the flowers I brought on the table, then leaned down for a look at the sleeping baby. "Fuck, he's tiny."

  She laughed again. "Eight pounds and three ounces is hardly tiny!"

  I chuckled. "Well, when you put it in those terms, I guess not." I grinned at Trick, ready with a standard joke. "Dude, you're lucky, he looks more like his momma. I was worried he would be ugly as you." We all laughed a little, then I got serious. "Lauren, can I borrow your old man for a minute? I promise I won't keep him long."

  Lauren smiled up at both
of us. "You two get out of here. I want to get a nap while I can."

  I said my goodbyes, then Trick kissed his son's head and placed him carefully in the little plastic bed-thing. When I realized my fists were clenched with anger, I checked my damn self. Yes, maybe I should have had all that, and more, but I sure as fuck didn't begrudge Trick for it. Shit, he deserved some good in his life. Bastard didn't give himself enough credit. I guess he felt pretty much like me after they took us out of the Army. Some of the shit we had to do showed you the worst parts of yourself. But he wasn't like me. He went through hell and high water to get his woman away from the lowlife that beat the shit out of her. Yeah, he earned all the good he could find.

  I led the way outside. "Man, I hate to take you away from that, but I need some advice." My serious tone got his attention right away.

  "What's up?"

  "I got offered a job, and not sure if I should take it. Wanted to get your take on it." Normally we just took whichever jobs we wanted and turned down any others.

  If the unusual request bothered him, he didn't show it. "Okay. Tell me."

  "Well, it's not really the usual kind of job. A girl I used to know contacted me out of the blue. She doesn't know it's me, thinks she just contacted a random mercenary." I stopped to light a smoke and get my nerves back under some sort of control.

  "Go on."

  "People around her are dying in what look like random accidents, or natural causes. But she thinks it's all connected to this guy she knows. He's sort of been a stalker for a while, turning up everywhere she goes, asking her out repeatedly, sending gifts, stuff like that. The police think she's imagining things. A private detective she hired found nothing. She's terrified enough to take extreme measures, and hire a merc."

  Trick's frown said he thought the situation was as serious as I did. "What are you going to do?"

  Of course Trick knew we were forbidden contact with anyone from our old lives, and the kind of risk I took by even considering this job, so I didn't bother to mention it. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. My gut says take it, fuck the consequences."

  "This girl important to you back in the day?"

  I nodded, debating how much to tell him. "We dated off and on through high school. I always thought I might go back."

  "You're sure it's the same girl? Not someone who just sounds like her?"

  "I got her name and info, but even without that, I recognized her voice. It's her." I'd heard that voice so many fucking times in my dreams, I would recognize it anywhere.

  "I don't know what to tell you, man. You know I got your back though." Exactly the answer I fucking expected. Check it out, and let him know if I needed backup. "Just don't fall down the rabbit hole on some hero quest."

  "Thanks, Trick. I guess I'm going home." A quick exchange of back slaps, and congratulations for him, then I got in my truck and pulled away.

  A stop at the local library allowed me to find confirmation of the incidents she mentioned during the call. The whole thing screamed bad news. Whatever the fuck was happening around her, she needed all the help she could get. That shit tended to turn around and eat the object of affection the moment they rejected the person trying to impress them. While that wasn't necessarily a bad thing in this case, not only would more innocents die in the process, but it would deprive me of what I needed. So that answered the burning question for me, at least.

  When I got home a few hours later, I sat on my non-descript black couch in my spartan apartment considering things. Did I really want to go back and revisit my fucking past like this? Any of the other Unwanted Soldiers could take care of it for me. They would do anything I asked, including take her out. But that's what it came down to. As much as I trusted them with my life, I couldn't fucking trust them with this. I didn't want her dead. I just wanted her to suffer like fuck. That decided it for me.

  I got a good night's sleep, and then King Rufus chased down a few other things for me while I got my shit together and closed up my apartment. My habits made it ridiculously simple to walk away from my life and disappear forever. Utilities and services were included with the lease, which I arranged anonymously through a freelance broker. No mail. No personal information. If I never fucking came back and the agency opened the apartment up at the end of the lease, they would find a few pieces of clothing, and some nonperishables in the kitchen. And I fucking liked it that way. No ties to keep me in any particular place.

  Within an hour, I was ready to hit the road. It would have been faster to fly, but I would rather stay anonymous. I had no fucking desire to go into an unknown situation without my weapons. Taking my own wings would severely limit my mobility on the ground, so that was out, too.

  So a duffle bag with a week's worth of clothes sat on the seat beside me, while weapons filled all the concealed traps installed in my truck. Just to look at it, there was nothing remarkable about my Chevy pickup. It looked like any of hundreds of thousands of other similar vehicles on the road. Under the hood, however, a big fucking V-8 out of a '71 Chevy cut the electronic umbilical. The truck's whole electrical system turned the clock back half a century, and all the computerized components were gone.

  I might be paranoid as fuck, but I'd rather no one be able to track my movements so I removed anything that might emit some sort of signal that could be used that way. While I had it all torn apart, I added a few things. I could conceal more shit in that truck than law enforcement dreamed of.

  In case you're fucking wondering, no, I didn't start off all paranoid conspiracy theorist. Our government, the people we hired to look out for our interests, taught me that fine art. Through some of the missions I handled for the spies, and as a regular mercenary, I found out exactly what certain hidden fuckers in our society were capable of. A man that could order the kidnapping and rape of a dozen school girls to make it look like the local militia has turned dirty was a very unique kind of son of a bitch. I found out exactly how unique when I refused to follow orders, but I wasn't about to rape anyone for any reason.

  The drive went almost too goddamn fast, even with periodic stops to stretch my legs. At the ten-hour mark, closing in on Columbus felt like stepping through a forbidden door. The city sprawled a little more than the last time I saw it, encroaching further into the smaller surrounding towns. The heartland roots of the area were a little more frayed, a little harder to find.

  Traffic was still the same pain in the ass, with the perpetual highway construction projects slowing and confusing drivers. Even though I knew exactly where I was going, I still had to pay close fucking attention to keep from getting into a wrong lane and going the wrong damn way.

  I spotted a small roadside motel not far from my destination, which seemed to offer a good place to take my bearings. The sign out by the street conspicuously lacked a hotel chain logo, making it perfect for me. Privately owned places were more likely to keep my info off some networked database. Even with one of my fake identities, I wasn't certain I could stay completely off the radar, so I chose not to take the risk whenever possible.

  I parked out of range of the security camera mounted outside the office, and looked things over before I got out of my truck. Nothing fancy, but not rundown. Several cars parked in the lot suggested I could blend in with the other patrons.

  Satisfied, I adjusted my ball cap and went inside, careful to keep my face away from that fucking camera. The middle-aged man behind the counter glared at me for interrupting whatever game kept him glued to his phone.

  "I need a room for a week, possibly two, in the back away from the street." I kept my face averted from yet another camera covering the check-in area.

  He nodded and grabbed the computer mouse. I waited while he did his thing, taking note of the half-dozen photos of a teenage girl and a pretty middle-aged woman on the corkboard above a small workspace. In one of the pictures, the clerk joined the two, smiling down at them. "License and credit card. That'll be five-eighteen seventy-four for the week." A gold wedding band glea
med dully on his finger.

  Now came the tricky part. I had to fucking roll the dice on his family. "That'll be cash. And there's an extra two-fifty in it for you if we can keep it off the computer."

  Well, that got his fucking attention. He frowned, and I was pretty sure his hand hovered by an unseen alarm or panic button. "We don't want any trouble here."

  I kept both hands on the counter, open and relaxed, resting my wrists on the edge. It looked completely non-threatening, but also kept my damn fingerprints off the smooth surface. "No trouble." I needed to tap into his protectiveness for his own family. "Look, I'm here tracking down my sister's daughter. She's only seventeen, and got mixed up with the wrong crowd almost two years ago. I've traced her this far, but the people she's with are smart. At the first sign of me getting close, they'll move her, and I won't have a chance at getting her out."

  Understanding, and fear, crossed his face. As the father of a teen girl, he could easily buy into the threat of some shadowy villain snatching good girls up and turning them into sex slaves. "I see. You know who has her?"

  "Not exactly. I'm just trying to be careful. The last time I got close, something tipped them off, and the only thing it could have been was my registering at a motel. They got away during the night, and it's taken me six months to get this close again. I'd really appreciate if you could help me out." I concentrated on believing the cover story myself, on conveying the truth of my words.

  The clerk tightened his mouth as he arrived at his decision. "I shouldn't do this, but I'm going to keep your stay completely off the books. Five hundred cash for the week, and there's no record of any kind of you being here. If registering at a motel tipped them off before, it won't this time."