Dixie Under Siege (A Warrior's Passion Book 2)

by Natasza Waters

  His answer strode in with a hip-hop-baggy-jeans-hanging-off-his-ass stride. The kid, no more than eighteen, wearing his baseball cap backwards, slid into the chair across from Chandler’s sister.

  Cracker might have left the hood years ago, but he recognized the exchange of goods for money about to unravel. The punk slid his hand across the table, and shoved the drugs under her napkin. Melodie stretched her slender arm across the scarred tabletop and placed a wad of cash in his palm.

  The deed completed in a few seconds and the dealer was gone. Ed wasn’t exactly shocked that Melodie self-medicated her trauma with drugs. He’d done the same damn thing as a teenager. Thanks to Ditz, they knew Melodie was thirty-one. Same age as Ed.

  He expected her to quickly disappear into the ladies’ room to consume, smoke or shoot whatever narcotic was under her napkin. Instead, she just stared at the concealed substance. He recognized the silent battle. The same one he’d experienced.

  If it wasn’t for an old man who’d lived two doors down from his childhood residence on a street that looked more like a war zone than a neighborhood, Ed wouldn’t be a SEAL today.

  He probably wouldn’t even be alive.

  The old boy was in his seventies. A veteran. Spent thirty years in the Marines. His wife had died from cancer long ago. Said he couldn’t sell the home they’d bought together as newlyweds, and remembered when the neighborhood wasn’t filled with junkies and gangs.

  Mr. Wagner had hired Ed to do odd jobs that the old man’s limbs couldn’t handle anymore. When he finished the work, they’d sit on the front porch. The old guy always made him something to eat and they’d talk for a while. Ed had liked the gruff old fart. Hanging out with Mr. Wagner gave him a sense of security.

  At seventeen, Ed overdosed. Wasn’t his mother who came to the hospital. Strung out on heroine most days, his mom didn’t give a shit about much. Mr. Wagner had picked him up and taken care of him.

  Ed was already hanging with a gang, prison a foregone conclusion. Lucky for him, he could run like the wind and had avoided the cops. He’d never been charged or sent to juvie, the training ground for a life of crime.

  Once he’d recovered from the overdose, Mr. Wagner handed him a brochure.

  “What’s this?” he’d asked.

  “I know you can read.” Mr. Wagner sipped from the glass he’d always used when he had a snort of whiskey each day. He glanced at the Navy recruitment brochure. “That’s your get-out-of-jail-free card, son. It’s time. Before it’s too late. I’ll drive you down to the recruiting center tomorrow.”

  “Hey!” Two of Ed’s gang brothers had sauntered up the old man’s walkway. “Come on, man. We got a thing.”

  Old Mr. Wagner struggled to stand up and gripped the rickety porch bannister. “You boys move on. Ed’s not going anywhere. He’s still recoverin’.”

  Dutch and Nick had swallowed street life and enjoyed the flavor. Nick had shouted, “Fuck you, Old Man.”

  Mr. Wagner snorted. “I’m too old to fuck, boy. Now get off my property.”

  Cracker had jerked his head at his buddies. “I’ll see ya tomorrow”.

  But he never did. Nor had he ever seen Mr. Wagner again after he’d put Ed on the bus for basic training.

  Ed never got the chance to thank him for saving his life.

  About two years later, he’d seen a small article from his hometown paper. Old Man Wagner went down fighting when punks broke into his place one night. Mr. Wagner shot one of ‘em before they’d stabbed him to death.

  Since leaving Detroit, first the Navy and then the SEALs had become his family. His brothers.

  Sitting in this shithole reminded him too much of a life he might have had. The server brought him his beer. He picked it up and strode to Melodie’s table. She noticed him and her pretty dark eyes glanced upward.

  “The longer you stare at that napkin, the quicker you lose the battle,” he said.

  “Whatever you want, I’m not interested.” She scooped up the napkin and shoved it in her purse, rising at the same time.

  “I’m living proof there’s always a second chance, Melodie.”

  Her gaze shot to his with surprise. “How do you know my name?”

  Cracker scanned a look over his shoulder. “Your anonymity is safe with me. I’m not here to blackmail you or get you in my bed. Just want to talk.”

  She swallowed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Ed eased into the wooden chair, hoping she’d follow suit. “You remind me of my sister.” He paused. “My twin.”

  Not even his team knew about Cher. When it came to his past, he didn’t divulge. Frogs usually knew everything about each other, but his squad had gotten the summarized version. He grew up in Detroit. No one asked more when he didn’t offer.

  “If you’re looking for her, it’s not me,” Melodie stated, still standing but not leaving either.

  He shook his head. “Didn’t think you were. Just imagined she’d look something like you. She had thick, long hair and pretty eyes.”

  “Where is she?” Melodie clutched her purse under her right arm.

  Cracker shrugged. “Don’t know. Cher disappeared a week after she turned eleven.”

  Chandler’s sister stiffened.

  He gripped the empty chair adjacent to his and turned it. Her response indicated she knew about her father’s side job trafficking humans. “Relax. Your old man had nothing to do with my sister’s disappearance.”

  A gust of air escaped her mouth. “What do you want?”

  What did he want? He wasn’t certain. All he knew is that he recognized a scarred soul when he saw one. In his profession, he wasn’t close to the people whose lives he’d saved. Although he was here to help CDR Hunter get intel, maybe he could help Melodie at the same time.

  “I’m not a magician. Can’t force you to flush whatever the dealer just sold you down the drain. But I do understand medicating trauma to dull the pain. I look in your eyes and I know you’re a victim. I know you think you’re trapped in a world you can’t escape.” He shrugged. “Been there.”

  Cracker nodded toward the empty chair. Melodie hesitated, then slowly sat down.

  He sighed inwardly. Step one achieved.

  “Who are you?” she asked, still very wary.

  Cracker grinned. “I’m not a cop and don’t belong to a three-lettered agency. My name’s Ed.”

  Melodie gripped her purse with all ten fingers. “For some reason, you know my name.”

  “I do. But I know more than that, and I guess…” The irony of the situation crossed his mind. “Your entire life is wrapped in layers of lies. None of it is your fault. I’m not here to add more lies. I know what your brother does to you.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “How…?”

  Instinctively, he wanted to cover her hand. Hold it. What called to him was the silent scream for help that she withheld, and he recognized. In Melodie’s case, touching her would be the worst thing he could do. Trust was built in small increments. The way Mr. Wagner had done with him.

  “Listen, this shithole is no place for either of us. Why don’t we relocate to a better part of El Cajon and get something to eat.” He glanced at her purse, resting on her lap. The words he chose would earn trust or convey judgement. He wanted to avoid the latter. “If you need a hit, I understand, but I’m hoping you’ll wait and hear me out.”

  Melodie’s forehead creased, her eyes no longer wary. Mostly they reflected fear, but there was also a flicker of hope.

  ****

  Three hours later, Ed parked his SUV on Orange Avenue across the street from the Erotic Bean, in front of Nado Baked Goods. He’d already called CDR Hunter with a debrief after spending two hours with Melodie. Ed never admitted to being a SEAL. She often peppered him with questions. He responded by diverting from the details and gave her a chance to air the truth. Release the internal pressure, even by a little.

  An hour and forty minutes into their conversation, she’d finally said, “If you’
re here to be my knight in shining armor, I’m not worth saving.”

  With a swipe of his arms, he’d slid the coffee cups and plates cluttering the table between them and leaned toward her. His gaze locked on hers. He’d been waiting for this. “Your brother and father’s sins aren’t yours to carry. I guarantee you don’t have to accept the lies. Today, I just wanted to hold up a mirror so you can see yourself clearly. I have proof that you have another life waiting for you when you’re ready.”

  She’d timidly asked how. He briefly explained, without mentioning Kayla’s name. Gave a summarized version of her abuse and what happened once she’d chosen to shake the chains of her abusers.

  At the end of their conversation he hadn’t learned much except that Chandler and his father were at odds with each other. She didn’t know why. Melodie never copped to any illegal activity perpetrated by her parent and brother, only her abuse and that her mother was dead. Apparently by suicide, which Ed highly doubted.

  A tap on the passenger window drew his attention. He pressed the button on his door and the window lowered.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you,” Avis said, sporting a nervous smile. She glanced over her shoulder at the bakery. “I was cleaning up and saw you outside. Everything all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. “You’re a man of few words. Are…are you hungry?”

  He didn’t want to come across as an asshole. Spending two hours with Melodie had drained him. “No, I had a late lunch.”

  Avis reminded him of a ray of sunshine. Smiling. Glowing. A beautiful blonde with sugar plums dancing above her head. Her pretty blue eyes filled with innocence, so unlike Melodie.

  Chandler’s sister had eventually admitted she had crack in her purse. The darkness that still existed in him hinted he should join Melodie for a hit. Well aware of the trail of destruction if he allowed himself to follow her down that path, he ignored the internal plea.

  Avis thrust both her shoulders upwards. “Okay, well…You’re welcome to drop by any time when you want to cheat on your strict diet.”

  A guy with his past and present nature didn’t bode well for the bakery store owner with her sugar cookie personality.

  Avis stepped away from the window and waved goodbye when Mr. Wagner crossed his mind.

  Son, my Liz was a God fearin’ woman with a heart of gold. By the time I’d met her, I’d killed too many men to count. I never imagined a sweet girl like her could see anything but a slice of trouble with a dark heart. Thought I’d ruin her life. Little did I know that all I had to do is love her, and she’d save mine.

  “Hey, Avis.” She paused her retreat. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

  She laughed and pointed across the street. “That’s what the Erotic Bean is for, Mr. Saxton.”

  Shit. Cute and logical. “Your shop closed?”

  “Uh-huh, just about to lock up and go home.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She tilted her head as if not understanding. The gal was cooped up all day, baking carb-filled goodness for her customers. Not only did Avis have some rockin’ curves, which he liked on a woman, but he needed a little sunshine to lighten his soul.

  Removing his shades, he took a second to appreciate the woman who had the courage to run her own business. He knew he didn’t give off any fuzzy, warm, first impressions. Call him curious for wanting to know why she kept smiling at him. “Let’s head to the beach. Take a walk.”

  “Should I bring a few leftover cinnamon buns?”

  If it wasn’t one addiction, it was another taunting him. Least he could run the calories out of his system. The temptation of baked goods forced him to nod.

  A few minutes later, Avis jumped into the passenger seat. She’d turfed the apron but not all the remnants of her business. He gently thumbed a dash of white powder from her chin.

  “Oh, sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “Hazard of the job.”

  He licked the powder from his finger. “Sweet.”

  The hue in her cheeks deepened. “Icing sugar.”

  The aroma of freshly baked bread infused his vehicle, the heady scent far better than overpowering perfume. “Any preference where we go?”

  Her big blues glanced his way. “Your place.”

  He choked out his next breath. Apparently there was a surprise baked into the center of the sweet lady sitting in his vehicle.

  She broke into laughter. “You should see your face.” Avis reached for her seatbelt. “Some fresh air sounds good. Your choice.”

  Cracker started the engine and a rare smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. It felt foreign, but at the same time, kinda amazing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  At one fifty-nine p.m., Dixie’s good day shifted to a solar eclipse. All the ladies, except Nina who had to take her daughter to a baseball game, had remained with her at the shop. The revolving door of customers had slowed.

  She, Lumin, and Kayla enjoyed the chance to stand in one place and chat. Rayne and Marg sat near the door in Rayne’s favorite place.

  The admiral’s wife turned her head to look at the entrance.

  “Dixie,” she said sharply. “Get to your office. Now!”

  She paused for a split second. That’s all he needed.

  Chandler palmed the service counter and a handsome smile slid across his mouth. “Hey, Miss Hammond. Seems I can’t resist your coffee.”

  She never expected her heart to pump like a wild beast. Last night, Dix found the missing piece to a twelve year old puzzle that Josh knew nothing about.

  Mustering a friendly smile that felt more like tearing her skin open on barbed wire, she considered her next words. “You mean to tell me, you flew all the way back to San Diego for my coffee, Mr. Kallis?”

  “That, and your lovely company.”

  She cleared her throat. “Ho, always a charmer. Ladies, this is my former boss from New York. Mr. Chandler Kallis.”

  Kayla and Lumin both lifted a hand in greeting.

  “This,” she thumbed toward Kayla, “is Sheila, and that’s Barb, two of my best employees.”

  Chandler’s dark eyes remained a little too long on both women. “Well, I’d have to say you’re going to attract male customers in droves. Nice to meet you, ladies.”

  “So, what can I get you?” Dix asked. Her voice remained steady, but her pulse pounded at two hundred beats a minute.

  “Umm.” Chandler grinned, his cut jaw and black gaze pinned to Dixie. “I was wondering if we could talk for a second.”

  She shrugged. “Sure. What about? And don’t bother asking if I’ll work in Ardon’s new office here in San Diego. I’m kind of fond of running my own business.”

  Chandler darted glances at her and the other women, as if indicating their presence made him slightly nervous.

  “Oh, I see,” Kayla said with an utterly fake southern accent. “I think he means a private conversation. Come on, Barb.” She winked at Chandler. “He looks a little nervous. I’m guessing someone’s trying to scurry up enough courage to ask our boss on a date.”

  Chandler blinked and his shoulders sagged a little. Dixie was impressed in a completely creeped-out way how he used everything and anyone to manipulate the situation. And he did it effortlessly.

  “Thanks, Sheila,” he said.

  “We’ll just be over there.” Kayla slid her phone from her pocket. “Minding our own business.”

  Dixie figured whichever SEAL was closest would charge through the front door as soon as they could get here.

  “Coffee? Cold drink?” she asked.

  “How about a hug for an old boss.”

  Her heart hammered like the pistons on a tramp steamer. “Hold that thought for one second.”

  She nodded, pretending the guy off in the far corner of the shop had given her a sign for a second cup. Dixie tamped the expresso into the portafilter and twisted it into the unit, pressing the start button.

  “So, what did you want to ask me?”

  Dixie froze wh
en Chandler strolled around the counter and walked right up to her.

  “Your employee must have ESP. My goal isn’t your fine coffee. I want to invite you to dinner.”

  “Well, if I wasn’t seeing someone, I would probably say yes.” She chuckled and put her attention on the dark brew pouring from the spout.

  Chandler placed his palm on her shoulder. His touch triggered a fierce adrenaline spike.

  “Dixie, I should have asked a long time ago. Believe me, I wanted to.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said and swallowed thickly.

  Dix tapped out the wet grains from the filter, then shifted to the sink and held it under the water. When she turned, Chandler had moved closer.

  “I just want to point out that if things aren’t serious between you two, I think we’d enjoy each other’s company. And, if nothing else, it would be great to just have dinner and talk. It beats being cooped up in a hotel room, staring at a TV while I’m here in town.”

  Holy shit, could this guy lie. “Chandler, I don’t think I knew of a single woman at Ardon Corporation that wouldn’t have given her left foot to hear you say those words. I’m sure you don’t have a problem finding company for dinner.”

  An unsettling flicker of displeasure flashed through his dark eyes, or maybe it was the subtle tightening of his lips. “Well, maybe something not as intimate as dinner. How about I pick you up after you close the shop and we get a drink.” He leaned forward in a way that used to make girls shiver at her office. “I’m sure your boyfriend won’t mind that. Totally innocent.” He raised his hands, palms up, in the air.

  The front door opened. A second later, she knew exactly who Kayla had called. The expression on the admiral’s face could have sheered the Empire State building from its foundation. The second he reached the counter, it shifted so radically, Dixie blinked.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the admiral said in a booming voice. “I’m in a hurry. Can I get a twenty-four ounce to go?”

  Chandler calmly turned and stared at the admiral. “Her blend is smooth on the tongue. Once you’ve had it, you’ll always want more.”