Pecca coughed as she spewed coffee across the table. Shirley’s laughter was as hearty as she was, and it filled the entire staff kitchen as she grabbed paper towels from the roll. Pecca wiped her mouth and the drops that had landed on her violet scrubs.
“Shirley, if your husband heard you talking like that—”
“He’d spit his coffee out just like you, honey.” Shirley finished wiping up the coffee. “He knows I ain’t never gonna leave him. Thick and thin, sickness and health. All that stuff meant something when we said it. Still does.” She tossed the wet towels into the trash can and turned to Pecca. Giving her a wink, she said, “But a girl can still appreciate—”
“God’s handiwork or something like that,” Pecca finished.
“Or something like that.”
There was no mistaking Shirley’s thinly veiled innuendo, but Pecca wouldn’t address it or how often thoughts of Colton came to mind. When she wasn’t jumping at shadows, Pecca was replaying the way he’d jumped in to protect her. And when he’d offered to stay and keep watch . . .
Heat tickled the apples of her cheeks.
As if on cue, Pecca’s watch beeped. Time for her next patient. She grabbed the box Shirley had brought in.
“Gotta go.”
“Make him work, baby.”
Pecca left the girlish giggling of Shirley behind and headed for the gym. She found Colton sitting on a weight bench near the locker room—his shirt still on. Head out of the gutter, Pecca.
His eyes were closed. He had his earbuds in and his lips moved, but no sound came out. Was he singing? Meditating? Praying? Whatever he was doing, Pecca didn’t want to interrupt. At least not right away.
Instead, she let her eyes roam the contours of his face. The jawline that stretched into the short, gruff beard that made him appear older than his thirty-two years. Creases in the skin near his eyes gave her the impression that, at one time, Captain Crawford had smiled a lot. Furrow lines crossed his forehead, and she wondered if they’d come about from the things he’d seen and done in the military. Or were they from his frustration over the movement disorder?
Her gaze slipped to his right arm and the twitching in his fingers. What would it feel like to lace hers between them? They clenched tight and then his hand jerked, shocking her out of her trance.
“Morning.”
Colton’s greeting drew her eyes to his. Heat sizzled across her face and neck. She’d just been caught staring at her patient. So professional.
“Good morning.” She tried to sound extra perky, hoping that would distract him from her indiscretion. She looked down at the box in her hand and held it up. “I brought this.”
He stood and closed the distance between them. “What is it?”
“A shaving kit.” Pecca turned her attention to the box and opened it up to reveal a razor, a travel-size can of shaving cream, and a tiny bottle of aftershave. “I spoke with Chaplain Kelly about bringing in a barber to offer cuts and shaves for the residents—he thought it was a great idea—but they won’t be here until next week. So I brought this, because I thought maybe you’d like a shave before then.”
He took the box in his left hand, leaving the right to move at his side. “I, uh . . .” He took a breath. “I can’t shave. Right-handed. But thanks.”
“Oh, I know.” She bit the inside of her cheek and met his eyes. “I’m going to do it.”
Five minutes later, Pecca was beginning to second-guess her altruistic gesture. She’d just finished spreading shaving cream over Colton’s face and hadn’t realized what being so close to him was going to do to her pulse.
Pecca forced herself to breathe—act like the professional she was. “You ready to lose your furry friend?”
“Are you ready?”
“Me? Oh, sure! I’ve done this a time or two for patients. No big deal.”
Colton’s eyes flashed to her hand. The razor she held over his face shook slightly, giving her away. “Just go slow.”
Slow. Right. Taking a breath, Pecca steeled her nerves and pressed the razor to his cheek. Her eyes moved to his hazel ones gazing up at her in absolute trust. With a slow and gentle motion, she slid the razor across his cheek.
For the next several minutes, under his watchful stare, she continued to bring the edge of the blade tenderly across his face over and over until a basin of water was filled with cloudy water and the remnants of his beard. With every strip of hair removed, Pecca felt her heart pound in anticipation. He’s my patient. He’s my patient. He’s my patient. And he’s hot.
Heat bloomed in her chest, then stretched up her neck and into her face. “Okay, I think that’s it.” Pecca handed Colton a towel and stepped back so he could get a look at himself in the mirror. “What do you think?”
Colton stood, turned, and blinked at his reflection, running his left hand over his face. He looked so different. Younger. Stronger. His eyes found hers in the mirror, and she quickly looked down at the mess she needed to clean up.
“Next week you’ll have a professional do it, and I’m sure it’ll be a much better experience.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Colton said. “You did a good job.”
“Thanks!” Pecca smiled at him. “After I get this cleaned up, we’ll start on your PT.”
“Is Maceo back at school?”
Pecca warned her heart not to read into his question. He was curious, that’s all. Curiosity that was making her nerves tingle with energy. “Um, yes. And he was oddly excited to get back there today, though he still hasn’t revealed what drove him to shove a kid to the ground in the first place.”
“Maybe it’s a family thing.”
Colton’s lip lifted into a smirk. Without the beard hiding his face, Pecca was finding it hard to get control of the fluttering in her stomach. He was attractive—oh, so attractive. And she was staring. At. Her. Patient.
Okay, this had to stop.
“So, we should get started on your session.”
Pecca broke eye contact and put the basin and shave kit away—along with the crazy feelings teasing her heart. The affection was misplaced admiration and gratitude for the way Colton had come to her rescue on Friday and for the way he always brought a smile to Maceo’s face.
While those were swoon-worthy qualities, they weren’t everything. And after Pecca’s last mistake, she wasn’t going to allow herself to fall so easily for someone again. No matter how stinking cute he was.
Oh, this was going to be hard.
Watching Colton move to the mats to begin stretching, Pecca made a vow. She would keep perspective. Colton was her patient. She’d limit the amount of time she spent with him to just their sessions. And for the love of all that was good, she would do whatever it took to erase the memory of his shirtless torso from her mind.
Yeah, she could do this. No problem. Except she was already failing at one.
TEN
COLTON RIPPED THE CORD of the heart rate monitor from his fingers. His right hand spasmed, sending a sharp pain up his arm and into his shoulders.
“It’s okay, Colton.” Chaplain Kelly’s voice was calm as he gathered the tangle of cords from the ground. “It’s only the second day.”
That should’ve made him feel better, but it didn’t. Colton wasn’t sure what he had expected, but not being able to even keep the electrodes on because of his movements was frustrating. The electrodes were supposed to monitor Colton’s heart rate so he could practice techniques to bring the rate down, which would help him control the movements in his arm, but the only thing Colton had learned over the last two sessions was that this was just one more thing he couldn’t control.
“How would you feel if we add another session each day?”
“Is that going to help?” Annoyance colored his words. Colton turned his angry stare to the wood floor. “What’s the point if I can’t even keep the wires on?”
“It’s going to take time,” Chaplain Kelly said, not taking his gaze off Colton’s arm. Every twitch, jerk, and move
ment captured his attention as though he, too, was trying to understand why Colton’s arm reacted that way. “Your disorder didn’t get to this point overnight, and we can’t expect that it’s going to go away overnight. It’s going to take practice and effort. A lot. And even with all of that, there are no guarantees.”
Colton’s eyes flew up to meet Chaplain Kelly’s compassionate blue gaze. “The doctors at Walter Reed said you’ve helped cases like mine.”
“No two cases are the same, Colton, but there’s one thing all of my cases have in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Expectation. Expect your recovery—whatever that looks like for your case—to be challenging and without a timeline.”
Heat seared the back of his neck. Colton could handle challenging. A decade in the Army with four deployments under his belt proved that. But no timeline? Colton couldn’t give up any more time. This movement disorder had already stolen a year of his life and was progressing.
“I’ve lost”—he choked on the words—“everything because of this.”
“When our mind has suffered greatly, our body’s response is to restart—”
“My mind hasn’t suffered greatly,” Colton protested, sounding like an impertinent child. “I know what PTSD looks like. I’ve got friends who can’t go into large crowds, who wake up in cold sweats, who—” His right hand jerked, sending his wrist into the corner of a table. His anger surged, forcing him to bite back the words that wouldn’t alleviate the pain.
“Nurse Gallegos did a good job.”
Hearing her name so unexpectedly felt like Colton was doused with cold water. He looked at Chaplain Kelly. “What?”
The chaplain ran his fingers along his own jawline. “Your shave. She asked me about the shaving kit. I’m assuming she did it.”
Colton rubbed his hand over his chin as he gave a quick nod. He was still getting used to the absence of hair and the bittersweet feeling left behind. Beneath the beard, it was easy to forget who he once was. Now that the hair was gone, he was forced to look at the man he remembered being before his disability took over.
Colton found himself trying to figure out the feeling percolating in his chest every time he thought of Pecca. Or heard her name. Or the way his heart had almost thudded out of his chest when she leaned in close to his face, her minty breath tickling his skin, with every swipe of the blade.
The shave he had received at Walter Reed was efficient. The shave Pecca had given him was . . . intimate. Colton had willed—no, prayed—his movements to still so as to not interrupt the moment or to somehow make it last longer.
What moment? The question jarred Colton out of the memory and back to reality. She was a nurse doing him a favor. Doing her job. And when Charlie asked him to keep an eye on Pecca, Colton was sure he didn’t mean in that way.
The ringtone on Chaplain Kelly’s cell phone chimed, indicating their session was over. Colton was about to rise from his chair when the chaplain spoke up.
“Before you leave, Colton, I’d like to ask how you’re doing coming off your meds. I know it’s only been a few days, but I want to make sure you’re not experiencing any side effects.”
Colton swallowed. Guilt riddled him as he thought about the pill bottles tucked into his sock drawer. “Um, good. Except my arm keeps moving.” He tried for a laugh, but it came out stilted—unlike his lie.
Chaplain Kelly smiled. “If you stay on course and work hard, I think we’re going to see some progress over the next couple of weeks. But I want to make sure you understand that the progress may not be what you expect.”
The chaplain’s tone was humble. Simple truth offered in the humility of someone who appeared sincere in his desire to help but refused to make promises.
“As long as it’s progress.” Colton stood. A vibration rattled against his leg from the cell phone in his pocket. “I’ll see you around, sir.”
Outside Chaplain Kelly’s office, Colton pulled out his phone and saw Kekoa’s toothy grin smiling up at him from the screen. “Brother, I’ve been waiting for this call all weekend. You losing your touch now that you’re out?”
“Pshh.” Kekoa laughed. “They begging me to come back, but I’m waiting for the payday.”
Colton stepped outside the Mansion and down the porch steps, taking a deep breath of the muggy air. “The Navy paying more for old intel guys?”
“Old? I’m barely thirty and in my prime.”
“In intelligence, that makes you at prime retirement age.”
“Well, this old man is considering not giving you information on one Javier Torres and Serena Gallegos if—”
“Okay, okay.” Colton found a bench shaded beneath a Magnolia. His eyes shot over to the gym, where Pecca was working. He’d planned to go in after his session with Kelly to keep an eye on her, but he rationalized that someone who used a silencer under the cover of night to conceal their identity wasn’t likely to walk into the gym and finish the job.
He shifted on the bench, bothered by the thought. “Tell me what you have.”
“First, I’m deeply offended that you withheld the hotness level of Serena Gallegos.”
Colton’s expression pinched. Of course Kekoa would discover that and make it an issue. “She’s very pretty.”
“Very pretty?” Kekoa said in disbelief. “She’s like the Latina version of a Hawaiian Tropic girl.”
And thank you, Kekoa, for that visual. Colton didn’t need any help recognizing how attractive his nurse was. What he did need help with was overlooking that fact in order to help keep her safe.
“Is that all you found out?”
“Besides that she’s a hottie? Yes.” Colton rolled his eyes over the sound of tapping computer keys echoing into the phone. “Serena is from El Paso, Texas. Born and raised up until six years ago when she relocated to Dallas for four years. She moved to Mobile, Alabama, for one year and then to Walton. She’s the youngest of four. Has two older brothers, one’s a law enforcement officer in New Mexico, the other is an accountant. One older sister who works for a Boston-based financial company—Loews, Ridley, and Scott.”
So far Kekoa hadn’t shared any information to give Colton pause. In fact, he was beginning to wonder how Pecca even got caught up with Javier. “What about Javier?”
“I’m not finished yet.” Kekoa’s tone tightened, and with it so did Colton’s gut. “Serena was arrested at sixteen for shoplifting. She was put on probation and, according to the records, had to do restitution.”
“She was a juvenile. How did you get access to those?”
“Her association with the South Side Barrio gang and one of its leaders, Javier Torres.”
Colton’s gaze flicked back to the gym. Pecca hadn’t just dated a gang member, she’d dated one of its leaders. “Did she commit any more crimes after that?”
“No, but the local gang unit keeps photos of the area gangs and their members, which is probably why they had her photo and information.”
“Tell me about Javier.” Colton wanted to know how Pecca—the sweet, overly cheerful, fiercely protective mother—got pulled into the gang life. “What’s he serving time for?”
“I don’t have to tell you what a pain in my okole it was to find this guy, do I?”
“Got it. I owe you.”
“I’ll take a date with the nurse, please.”
“Not gonna happen.” Colton ignored the flutter in his chest. “Get on with it.”
“Javier Torres is currently serving a fifteen-year sentence at Buckner Penitentiary for aggravated robbery. Except for that, his record is fairly clean, given his position in the gang. Seems a little odd to me.”
“Odd, how?”
“Dude’s supposedly running one of El Paso’s prominent gangs and aside from some petty crimes, his record doesn’t reflect a typical gangbanger’s life.”
“Maybe he had other people do his dirty work.”
“Maybe.”
There was some hesitation in Kekoa’s voice. “Wh
at is it?”
“It’s probably nothing.”
If Kekoa was picking up on something, it was rarely ever nothing. “Tell me.”
“It’s just that I wasn’t able to pull up anything else on him. With technology what it is, I’ve got your girl’s”—Colton opened his mouth to correct Kekoa, but he was already continuing—“entire educational record, first driver’s license photo, even her electronic signature on the Buckner visitor sheet, but Javier’s info is gone like he didn’t exist until he started breaking the law.”
Colton was still stuck on the idea of Pecca visiting Javier in jail. She hadn’t mentioned that the other night. Well, to be fair, she hadn’t really offered anything more than Javier’s name and her connection to the SSB, which made the new information he had on her sit in his stomach like a piece of lead.
“What about South Side Barrio?”
“Not good news, brah,” Kekoa sighed. “DEA has them tied to some cartels outside the country. There’s been some territorial violence that looks like it started shortly after Javier went to prison, and it’s been escalating over the last year.”
That might be incentive for the SSB to want Javier paroled early—bring back some control. Movement across the lawn caught Colton’s attention, and he turned to see Maceo running toward him with a football in his hand.
“Look, I gotta run. If you find anything else, you call me—night or day.”
“Shootz,” Kekoa said. “Hey, maybe give your uncle a call. Didn’t you say he was a cop in Texas or something?”
“Texas Ranger.”
“Right. Maybe he can find something on this guy.”
“He’s retired, but it’s worth a shot.” Colton waved at Maceo as he approached. “Talk to you soon.”
“Don’t forget you owe me a date with—”
Colton ended the call. “Hey, Maceo, how was school?”
Maceo’s breath puffed out of pink cheeks. “Okay.”
Colton held up his hands for Maceo to toss him the ball, which he did. “Go long.” Maceo started jogging backward, and Colton noticed the movement was hard on his prosthetic joint. Technology was amazing and prosthetics allowed those with missing limbs to do far more than they ever could without them, but they fell short of the real thing. “Here it comes.”
Silent Shadows Page 8
