Logan nodded and lowered his gaze. “I appreciate that, sir, but all due respect, sir,” he glanced back up, “who all knows about what occurred? I’m just finding out myself. I need to be in touch with the police and hell,” he ran his hand through his hair, “Sir, I’ve never been through this and have no idea where to start.” He then remembered the Colonial. “Where is Colonial Blake, sir?”
Master Sergeant nodded. “Colonial Blake will be with you in the coming days. The police would like to touch base with you, as well as your attorney. They have been by to settle the life insurance plan your wife had. There is a lot to take care of, Saunders. Take your time. The base isn’t going anywhere.”
Logan nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He saluted the man, then turned toward his escorts and offered another brief nod as the crew made their way down the hallway.
A few days had passed and Susan’s family offered to help in making funeral arrangements. Logan had been grateful for the help, having no idea what to do. In their will, Logan and Susan had planned a cremation. Her remains were placed in an urn and it currently sat tucked away in the box it arrived in inside his closet.
Out of sight, out of mind. If he did not look upon the urn, he did not have to admit his wife was dead.
Right?
Logan sighed and sat on his couch. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees; his forehead pressed into the palms of his hands. His gaze stared at the hardwood floors under his feet. His ears began to ring from the silence in the room.
No Susan.
No children.
Nothing was left for him, everything had been taken away.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he asked himself. His vision blurred slightly. Using his palms, he wiped his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he shed tears.
Never show emotion. Emotion is weakness.
He repeated these words in his head over and over until it gave him a headache.
“Susan, what am I supposed to do without you?” He sighed and leaned back on the couch. Closing his eyes, his chest began to tighten. Logan pressed a fist against his chest and thumped it once, twice. “Susan…why? Why?” His chest bucked and his shoulders shook. Logan’s eyes began to burn and he realized he was crying.
“Susan! Shit, baby!” he sobbed on the couch, thankful he was alone, but also needed the comfort of his wife…a comfort he would never experience again. This thought caused him to sob harder. Logan shifted his head on the couch and glanced over to the portrait of him and Susan, the day they married.
She wore a bright white dress that was sleeveless and strapless. The top of it had been heart cut, accentuating her breasts.
“I can’t wait to peel this dress off you and press my face between your tits.”
“You know how to turn a lady on, Logan!”
Their first dance haunted his memory as he recalled the moment. He closed his eyes and hiccupped.
“Fuck this,” he told himself. Earlier in the day, Logan had approved some of Susan’s close friends to come by and remove dirty clothes, straighten anything out of place, and get some of Susan’s loose ends cleaned up.
What loose ends these were that they tended to, Logan was not sure. He was grateful for their help, nonetheless.
Making his way toward the bedroom he shared with his wife, he suddenly stopped in the doorway. He stared at the bed. It had been made.
Were the sheets washed? Would he smell her perfume and soap on her pillow case? What about her dirty clothes? Hell they would still smell as if she were still here.
The wall caught the brunt of Logan as he fell against it. He could not do this, not yet. He turned his back to the room and stood there, not moving. His gaze lowered as he stared at the floor.
“No, I have to do this. I have to go in there eventually. Might as well make it now.”
He turned on his heel and stepped through the entryway. Stepping inside the bedroom felt like he stepped into Hell. Not that the room felt hot, it felt completely foreign, unfamiliar. It felt as if he were walking into a room that no longer belonged to him.
His chest tightened again and as Logan gazed around the room, he lifted his hand to his mouth. He shook his head a few times, then inhaled deep. Slowly, he exhaled and stepped further in. The bathroom was only a few feet away from where he stood. He could make it that far, especially if his body decided enough is enough. He had the toilet to blow his lunch into.
His breath came out in a shudder as he stepped into the bathroom. He closed his eyes and reached for the light switch. He flipped it on and continued to stand with his eyes closed.
I’m afraid of what I’ll see, he told himself. What if her perfume is still on the counter? What if her friends didn’t find the laundry hamper and it has her clothes in it.
Logan bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly opened his eyes. The bright light of the bathroom came first, then the vanity mirror. He could not stop himself from looking; he glanced down and there it was…her perfume bottle.
“Shit,” he told himself. His gaze began to blur. He stepped further inside the bathroom.
“Baby, I love this house for the bathroom alone! It is as big as our bedroom! I NEED this bathroom!”
His wife’s words that sold him on their house came back to him. Picking up the perfume, he inhaled the scent. His body shook as he almost dropped it setting it down.
He glanced over and swallowed hard as he took in the closet. She insisted on keeping the dirty clothes hamper inside the closet. No one needed to see their clothes, that’s what she told him anyway.
Slowly, he reached for the door. Turning the handle, he opened it and the light inside came on.
“Shit, Susan…” Logan fell to his knees as his wife’s clothes worn the day before she died were left in the basket. He fell to his palms and sobbed out loud. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? How…Who…What…” He sobbed and held his head in his hands. Susan’s clothes were right here, as if she had just worn them.
A part of his mind wanted to reach in and inhale the scent of her shirt. The other part needed to burn the clothes in an effort to forget everything that reminded him of her.
The wanting won out. Logan reached in and with his hand shaking, he grasped a blouse. He pulled it close to him, gathered it in his hands and brought it to his face.
“Susan!” Logan fell to his side and sobbed as he held what was left of his wife’s familiar scent close to him. His chest pained with the loss, his body shook on the floor, the grievance took him under and at some point, Logan gave into the grief and passed out.
Chapter Four
Two weeks had passed since his wife’s funeral. The mail had piled up on the dining room table. Logan sighed, took a seat and reached across the table, pulling the envelopes toward him. He made a mental note to thank his sister-in-law for setting his affairs in order.
Receiving the police report the other day, Logan could not bring himself to read the information.
Whenever he received details regarding his next mission, he read it without thinking twice. In, out, kill if needed. This…he could not bring himself to read it; at least not yet.
He sifted through the bank statements and credit card bills. He stopped on a cell phone envelope and stared at it.
“When did Susan get a different cell phone?” He glanced to the phone bill he shared with her, then back to this one. Logan tightened his grip on the paper, then ripped the side off. He pulled the bill out and opened it. All her information was there, including the phone numbers dialed, the data usage, everything she used while he was overseas.
Why would she get a different number without me knowing? Who did she hang with? Where did she go?
His thoughts kept him busy as he considered what his wife did for fun. He couldn’t help the nagging suspicion something did not seem right, either. She enjoyed shopping, new movies, getting her hair done…this much he knew. What did she like doing when he was not home? Was this why she gained a diffe
rent number?
He scanned the document and found he did not recognize the numbers on it. Hell, he didn’t know most numbers of his friends off hand. They were stored in his phone. Why would he need to memorize them? He thought nothing of it, at first. He noticed the same number repeated numerous times, though.
Who was this, he thought.
He sat the bill down and rubbed his palms on his eyes. He was not ready for this…this trip into her world. He needed to go through her belongings, he needed to clean out a few things, and he needed to prepare to move on without her.
“What the fuck am I going to do?” He sighed and allowed his head to relax. He intertwined his fingers and his mind…it felt empty.
Glancing toward the kitchen counter, the plastic bag from the police station, as well as the report, stared at him. Her original cell phone, purse and wallet, keys, and a few odds and ends were in the bag.
He pushed away from the table and headed toward the counter. Absently, he touched the bag, allowing his fingers to move over the surface of the plastic.
Her name, Susan Saunders, appeared on the front in black permanent marker, along with the date of the accident.
“Shit, three weeks? It’s only been three weeks? Feels like a fucking year.” Logan groaned and grabbed the plastic bag. He opened the top and emptied the contents onto the counter. Grabbing the phone, he pressed the power button and nothing happened.
He side-stepped toward the other side of the counter and plugged her phone into the charger. The back light lit up and the battery image appeared. Pressing the power button, the battery image disappeared and the phone began to turn on. He went back to the contents and opened her purse: lipstick, credit card holder, a few receipts, and sunglasses.
Logan picked up the lipstick and pulled the lid off. He rolled up the stick as the light pink color came into view. The tip of it had been curved to the contours of Susan’s lips. He sniffed the stick and had half a mind to press it to his lips, just to feel something that was hers, something that had recently touched a part of her. He lowered the stick and replaced the lid. Setting it down, he took the receipts and began to crumble them when one struck him as odd.
“Victoria’s Secret?” He glanced over the receipt: panties, bra, and an expensive lacy outfit. He blinked and wondered if it were for him upon his return. “But I was not due back for at least another six to eight months.”
He immediately pushed the thoughts of Susan cheating from his mind. “Ridiculous,” he told himself.
In the silence of the room, Susan’s phone suddenly chimed. The power restored, the phones alerts began to come through. He set the receipts down and made his way back to her phone. Swiping his finger across the screen, he found Susan had ten missed calls, quite a few text messages, and emails from an account he did not recognize.
His brows began to furrow as he pulled up the missed call. They were all from the same number…and from a name, Shawn McCrery.
Logan inhaled and held it for a moment, then slowly exhaled. Glancing over his shoulder toward the cell phone bill, he went over to it and picked it up. Coming back to the cell phone, he compared the numbers.
“Who the hell is Shawn McCrery?” He sat the cell phone bill down and picked up her phone again. His chest began to tighten and his stomach felt knotted. His grip on her phone tightened.
He opened the text messages and found all of them were from this Shawn McCrery person. Logan closed his eyes and prayed, before reading, they were from a woman named Shawn. He opened his eyes and touched the missed texts.
Hey baby. Can’t wait to see you later. Too bad your man had to call. It made you late in me seeing you.
Logan gritted his teeth. He looked to the next message.
I can’t wait to taste your pussy tonight. You are so fucking delicious.
“FUCK!” Logan slammed the phone on the counter and cursed again. Not thinking about what would happen next, he swiftly ran his arm over the counter and knocked everything to the floor.
His voice erupted into a growl that grew into a full out yell. He kicked Susan’s purse across the room and it hit against the opposite wall. His hands fisted and released, then fisted again.
He needed to hit something, he needed to yell, he needed to run, he needed a gun to fire.
“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK! SHE FUCKED AROUND ON ME? SHE SUCKED SOMEONE ELSE’S COCK? NO, JUST FUCKING NO!”
He went back to the bills and grabbed them in one sweep. Stomping back toward the phone plugged in, he went into Susan’s contacts and found his sister-in-law’s name, Sarah. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, dialed her number and pressed call. He waited until he heard her answer.
“Logan? Hey, how are you?”
“Get the fuck over here now, Sarah. We need to talk. You have some shit to take home with you. Better yet, I’ll toss that whore of a sister of yours shit outside and you can come pick it up!”
“Whoa, wait what? Slow down, Logan. What happened? Why would you call Susan a whore? She was your wife.”
“She…” he swallowed hard and tried to calm himself, but it was too late. He was pissed. “She fucked around on me, Sarah. She’s no better than a fucking whore. Come get her shit before I throw it out.”
Logan hung up the phone before giving Sarah a chance to respond. He closed his eyes and willed the deceit, the cheating… everything that ruined what he felt for his wife out of his mind.
Logan took a long pull from his beer. He flipped through the channels on his television. Glancing to the clock, he raised a brow.
“Bitch has five fucking minutes to get here or the cunt’s shit is gone.”
He took another pull as a knock on the door sounded. Logan stood and took another pull, then sat the beer on the coffee table. Crossing the room, he opened the door wide. Sarah stood on the other side.
As Logan gazed upon his sister-in-law, he became troubled as she was identical to her sister. Logan wanted to yell, wanted to pull her inside and question why she fucked around. But this was Sarah, not Susan. His heart hurt, badly.
She appeared a bit shell shocked. His features began to soften just slightly as Sarah stared at him. She stepped inside and made to reach for him. Immediately, Logan flinched and shook his head no. “You know where the bedroom is. Go get what you want. Everything else will be fucking burned.”
She closed the door behind her and stared up at the man in front of her. He easily towered over her. Sarah, like her sister, was stunning in beauty and stood as tall as his chest. He glanced down to her and raised a brow.
“What?” he barked at her.
“You really feel the need to burn everything else? Come on, Logan. This is Susan and…”
“Fuck her and fuck you if you defend her. Get her shit and get the fuck out.” He turned on his heel and went back for his couch, grabbing his beer. He sat back down and took a pull on the bottle.
“I’m going to let that go because I know you’re hurting, but honestly, Logan, do you have proof she cheated? She loved you so much, I doubt…”
Interrupting her again, Logan slammed his beer on the table so hard, the bottle broke. Beer shot in different directions and Logan shook his hand. “Goddammit, Sarah! Get her shit and get the fuck out!” He shook the dampness from his hand.
“No! Not until you show me evidence of why you think she cheated! You may be able to talk to your grunt meat heads like this, but dammit you WILL show me a little respect! I did not fucking piss in your damn Cheerios, you asshole!”
Logan came to her quickly and grabbed her arm. His hand had cuts from the broken bottle and blood stained her arm. He dragged her toward the kitchen where he left her phone.
“Ow! Logan, you’re hurting me!”
“Shut up! Here is your fucking evidence!” He shoved the phone in her hand then crossed his arms over his chest. Logan gritted his teeth and felt his heart beating fast in his chest. He was beyond pissed; he is widowed to a woman who cheated on him, and her ghost is now in fron
t of him in the form of her sister.
In one breath, he wanted to haul her ass to the base and hand her over to the female soldiers. They would kick her ass, let her rest, then kick it again.
No one fucked with Logan Saunders.
In the other breath, this was Sarah…not Susan. She did nothing wrong and like Logan, walked into the drama her sister had caused.
She stared at him for a moment, then glanced down to the phone.
Logan watched his sister-in-law and the hatred for his wife he had forced onto Sarah began to let up. He knew she was not to blame, and a part of him, a very small part, wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, if only to remind him what it would have been like to hold Susan one more time. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from her.
“Oh my God, Logan…” Sarah continued to scroll through the messages and she shook her head. She sat the phone down and looked up to him. “I…I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
He opened his eyes and uncrossed his arms, then looked toward her. His hand now began to throb from the cuts. He brought it up and looked at it. He flinched when Sarah took his hand and pulled it toward her.
“You got yourself good. Do you have a first aid kit in the kitchen?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked. She shrugged and made her way around him to the kitchen. She bent over in front of the sink and opened the cabinets.
“I don’t mean to bring up this guy Shawn, but did you read the police report?”
He shook his head and watched Sarah as she stood. “No, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“And now?” She came back to him and set the kit on the counter. She opened it and pulled out alcohol wipes, betadine, and gauze bandages. She cleaned the wound with alcohol and when he seethed, she pursed her lips to keep from grinning.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. You put on this big front of being all billy badass, then a little alcohol touches you and you whimper.” She laid the bandage across his palm.
Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances Page 29
