by Jo Chambliss
She hiccups and laughs into my chest. “No, let’s go. I’m just a little crazy right now. I’ll be fine.”
Later that day, we’re climbing back into my truck for the girls’ second outing in over a week. Ari has her fish, Willa’s carrying her new camera equipment, and I’ve got my Sig. It’s not that any of us need these things for the barbecue. I suppose we just need them to feel like we have some control over things in some small way.
Loading us up, I have Willa sit in the back seat with Ari as a precaution. My back windows are tinted, lessening the chance of someone seeing her. Fortunately, Mike thought to bring a child’s booster seat when he brought the camera equipment I bought for Willa.
Just before four, we’re pulling into Mike’s long driveway. It’s tree-lined and curved in such a way that the road isn’t visible from the house, so we remain hidden.
Walking in the door to Mike’s house, I’m immediately hit with the smell of Michele’s homemade rolls. Mike claps me on the back after the girls walk in and make their way to the kitchen. Low enough that only I can hear, he asks, “So, do you and I need to have a talk?”
His look says that he knows that Willa and I are no longer merely acquaintances. “Sorry, this is out of your jurisdiction.”
He grins big and pushes against my shoulder. “You’re such a dick,” he whispers.
After that exchange, we join the others in the kitchen where Michele is working. It appears that as soon as Ari saw what Michele was doing, she hopped up on a stool, hoping to help cook.
Michele puts her to work, and Willa offers to set the table as Mike and I go out to the grill.
Out on the deck, he reaches into a cooler and pulls out two beers. “How’s she holding up?” I twist off the cap and take a quick pull. “It’s starting to get to her. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Mike turns the ribs on the grill.
Yeah, he knows how survivor’s guilt is. He’s been a cop long enough to survive one or two situations that he shouldn’t have been able to walk away from. On one of those cases, not everyone of the good guys made it.
I’ve been on missions and faced the same thing. First, you’re just glad to have survived. Next, you blame yourself as if you did something to cause it or not enough to stop it. After that comes anger because your life can never go back to the way it was.
At that point, some people develop a debilitating fear that keeps them from ever trying to live again, and some quit living altogether. I won’t let either happen to Willa.
“Chris, since you have the worst, or best, timing on the planet, I know you had to have met the ex. What did you think about him?”
“Unimpressive.” And that’s putting it nicely.
Mike chuckles and says, “That’s what I thought too.” After he says that, his smile fades. And even though he’s just turned the meat, he keeps poking at it.
“Mike, is there something else on your mind?”
He looks at me with an emotion that has never been leveled in my direction before. “I just keep wondering what’s going to happen when you go back. It’s obvious to me that those girls are not just tenants anymore.”
I straighten up from where I’m leaning on the railing and cross my arms across my chest. “You’re right, they’re not. To answer your brewing question, I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I do know is that I’ll be spending every spare minute I have with them.”
He gives a solemn nod, and we sip our beers in silence.
When the meat is ready, I go inside to grab a tray. Mike takes up the ribs and chicken, and we all sit down to eat. Ari proudly passes around the basket of rolls she helped make, and no one refuses. She’s all smiles, but it’s easy to tell which ones are hers and which ones Michele shaped.
All it takes is that first bite to realize it’s been too long since I had Mike’s secret barbecue, Michele’s rolls, and their magic coleslaw. This… the food and the company is almost enough to retire for, that is, until Mike opens his mouth. When he’s not busy chewing, the bastard’s telling dumb stories of when we were kids. Of course, he only tells the stories that end with me being the one injured, in trouble, or humiliated.
At first, I try my best to shut him up, but then I notice the pink glow to Willa’s cheeks brought on by laughter. I guess these stories aren’t so bad. I’ll still get his ass back for it, though.
Just as Michele is bringing out fresh, scratch-made apple pie, Mike’s phone starts ringing.
Seeing that it’s his work phone, he gets up from the table to answer it. From my seat, I can see into the kitchen where he’s standing and pick up on the instant his face changes. Oh shit.
He motions for me, and I get up from the table to follow him into his office. He shuts the door behind me but otherwise ignores me. “I want someone here in five minutes. Chris and I will be there in ten.”
He disconnects the call then and is slow meeting my gaze. “Your cabin… it’s gone.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean gone?”
“He found it. Your cabin is gone. Blown up. Blown to hell. That’s what I mean.”
I close my eyes and force a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. “I’m going to kill this son of a bitch,” I bite out.
“Only if you beat me to him,” he says in a dangerous voice. “Come on. You and I have to get moving.”
I take several more deep breaths before we walk back out to the women. Back in the kitchen, Mike announces to the ladies that we’ll need to go out to check into something.
Willa, sensing this has to do with her tormentor, retreats into herself. I march over to her and pull her to me and bend down so that we’re nose to nose. “What’s going on, Chris?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Whatever happens, I want you to remember one thing. You are not alone. I’ve got you; you and Ari.”
Hearing the knock at the door, I assume it’s one of the deputies coming to stand watch. I kiss Willa hard and go to Ari. “I’ll be right back, Tadpole. Save me a piece of pie.” Finally, I turn to leave with Mike.
Outside on the porch, he has a quick discussion with Harry, and we race off to his truck.
Too angry to speak, we’re both silent until Mike’s radio sounds off. “Unit five to Sheriff Hudson.”
He picks up the radio and answers, “Go, Unit 5.”
“Forget going to the station. You need to come to Hill’s place first.”
He glances at me quickly. “On our way.”
The seven minutes it takes to get to my cabin are torture. The sight at the end of my driveway is even worse. Even in the waning light, it’s easy to see the destruction. The only thing left standing is the stone fireplace. Everything else is gone. Not even the damned pile of firewood is still there.
Blake jogs up to us, gesturing for us to follow him. “The fire marshal is on his way. We’ve got a few lights up, but he says not to touch anything. He wants clean samples to identify what explosive was used.”
“ANFO,” I mumble to myself.
“What was that?” Mike asks.
“It was ANFO. Ammonium nitrate and fuel oil. You can tell by the smell of ammonia left behind.”
Blake comments, “So that’s what that smell is. I thought it was cat piss.”
“They smell similar.”
With the help of the lights the deputies put up, we carefully pick our way through the debris on our way to whatever it is Blake wants us to see. When he stops, it only takes a second to find out why he wanted us to come here first. Spray painted on the outside of the chimney is a message that makes my blood run cold.
Found you.
From beside me, Mike swears a blue streak. “Get them the fuck out of here.” He tosses his keys to me, leaving no question about what he expects me to do.
The instant I slide in the leather seat of Mike’s truck, I yank out my phone and call Omen. As soon as it starts ringing, I put the phone on speaker and place it on the dash. Then, I’m cranking the
truck and hauling ass off the mountain.
“Fish, what’s up?”
“Situation FUBAR. He found us. We left my cabin to visit the sheriff, and the place was blown up an hour later.”
“Shit! Get somewhere safe and check back in.”
“Omen… the ex was there recently. Supposedly, he went back to Bethesda. Check out his alibi.”
“I should be able to report within the hour.”
“Thanks.”
I dread the call I have to make next. Not because I expect to be given a hard time, but because my team will know that I kept things from them.
The phone rings three times before I hear his voice. “How’s the new family, man?” Devil jokes.
“I need your help.”
His voice has lost any trace of humor when he says, “Whatever you need, you got it.”
I run him through what’s happened since arriving in Lydia, and then get to what I need now.
“I need a place to stay. This bastard’s determined, and now that he knows who I am, I don’t want them at my house in Whitehurst.”
“That’s easy. Come here. I’ve got plenty of room.”
“Thanks, Gunner. I guess the rest can wait till morning. I should be there in four hours give or take.”
“Be careful, man.”
Harry steps off the deck toward me when I pull in Mike’s driveway. “Where’s the sheriff,” he asks when I’m the one that exits the driver's side. “My place. He said for me to get them out of here. Keep an eye out for Michele until he gets back.”
As soon as I walk through the door, I see Willa standing in the living room. A quick search finds Ari in the kitchen with Michele, putting icing on a cake. I approach Willa and pull her into Mike’s office.
“Just tell me,” she says as the door closes.
“My house was blown up. We’re leaving right now.” Willa sways on her feet, so I lead her to sit in one of the guest chairs in front of Mike’s desk. Her face has gone pale and is blank of any emotion.
Raiding Mike’s bar, I grab the bottle of Butchertown and fix Willa a drink. I bring the glass of brandy to her lips and encourage her to take a sip. She does so on autopilot but then coughs and sputters. It crosses my mind that Mike’s feelings would be hurt by her reaction to his prize brandy, but the thought vanishes quickly.
She refuses any more of the drink, but it appears to have done its job.
“Come on. We need to go.”
“Where?”
“Virginia Beach. I’ll explain on the way,” I tell her as I pull her up from the chair. She doesn’t put up a struggle or ask any more questions. I’m afraid she’s either just too shell-shocked by the turn of events or has given up the fight completely.
No way. I won’t let it happen. Taking her cold hand, I lead her back out of the office.
Back in the main room, I enter the kitchen to see Ari eating a piece of cake. She’s got icing all around her mouth and looks to be enjoying herself. “Ari, how would you like to go on a trip?”
“A trip? Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Michele looks at me with a furrowed brow. I shake my head at her to keep her from asking any questions.
Five minutes later, we’re on the road, heading southeast. Ari talks for a while, but I’m too much in my head to hold a conversation, too busy trying to figure out our next steps. Willa and Ari have nothing except the clothes on their backs and the camera equipment that was fortunately brought with us to Mike’s house. Oh, and the stuffed fish…
My phone rings, pulling me out of my internal strategy planning. Seeing that my old Ranger friend is calling, I put in my AirPods to answer the phone instead of using the vehicle Bluetooth system. The last thing I need is for Ari to hear the exchange. “Hill.”
“Fish, it’s Omen. The ex-husband has been at a charity basketball tournament all day.”
“Thanks. I just needed to check.”
“How are you and your charges?”
“Beat.”
“You’ll get through this. Just be smart and get some rest. I imagine you’ve had a rough few days.”
I should feel that way, but I keep picturing Ari with flour on her nose making pizza dough, both of their beautiful smiles at the waterfall, and the sweet taste of Willa’s soft lips in front of a roaring fire.
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
Willa
Two hours into the drive, Ari has to go to the bathroom. For about the last half-hour or so, she’s been bored but hasn’t whined. I guess she has sort of a sixth sense and knows that something’s wrong and doesn’t want to make it worse.
Chris pulls off the highway at a truck stop, and I watch the wary SEAL tuck a gun into the back waistband of his pants before escorting us inside. I lead Ari to the back to use the facilities and find Chris standing in the bathroom hallway when we come back out.
In his hands, he’s holding a collection of toiletries for the three of us. The sight is a glaring reminder of the direness of our situation.
A situation he’s only in because of us. With a shake of my head, I turn to look at the wall.
“Willa…” he warns. “Don’t do it. Don’t start blaming yourself. You did not do this.”
“Let’s just go,” I say flatly as I walk away.
Chris hurries to pay for his selections and catch up with me. The locks to the large truck click open as I reach the doors, and I load a sleepy Ari inside. After buckling myself in the front seat, I lay my head back and close my eyes. I think I’ve reached my limit today.
Chris puts the bag in the back next to Ari, then climbs in the truck. He reaches over and gives my thigh a squeeze, and I turn a tearful face toward him. “Thank you, Chris,” I whisper.
“It’s purely selfish,” he says with a wink. “I need you.” He then picks up my hand and brings it to his lips. After planting a kiss on my palm, he rests our clasped hands on the console, showing no intention of letting go.
The sweet gesture breaks my heart. Chris is a wonderful man but is incredibly stupid to continue to subject himself to my calamity. He’s crashed his bike, been shot at, and had his cabin blown up because he inserted himself into my life.
I need to get away from him before this mess kills him.
It’s after nine when we pull into the driveway of a medium-sized house. Besides the house itself, the first thing I notice is the seven men that file out onto the front patio. Chris hands me the bag of toiletries and walks around to get a sleeping Ari out of her car seat.
Without a word, Chris and I walk into the house, followed by the group of lethal-looking men. A particularly dangerous-looking one whispers to Chris, “I’ve changed the sheets in the master bedroom for the girls. That way, they have a private bathroom.”
“Thanks, Devil.”
I walk behind Chris as he follows the man he called Devil to the back of the house. Devil turns on a lamp and pulls back the covers for Chris to lay Ari down. Chris pulls off her shoes and covers her up, but that’s my job.
I know it’s petty and stupid, but I’ve lost control of my entire life right now, and dammit, I want to be the one that tucks my daughter in.
Chris steps back, and I lean over Ari, whispering in her ear and kissing her forehead. Part of me wants to climb in bed with her, but I get the feeling that Chris and these men demand my immediate attention. With a sigh, I stand back up and turn to face him.
Devil is no longer in the room when Chris reaches out and pulls me to him.
“Let me go.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need this insanity or this burden any more than I do.”
Quick as a flash, he releases me only to take my hand and pull me from the room. After the door is closed, he grabs my shoulders, pressing me against the wood. “You listen to me and listen good. I’ve seen a lot of hell in my life. More than you could have seen even in your nightmares. This is a shitty situation. I won’t deny that, but through it, I’ve found you and Ari. Wh
atever shit I have to go through is worth it as long as I come out on the other side with you. I never knew what I was missing before, but now I do. I. Need. You.”
Then, he leans in close. With his lips against my ear, he whispers, “The only way I’m letting you go is if you don’t want me. Tell me, Willa. Tell me that you don’t want me.”
Chris leans back to stare into my eyes. I return his challenging glare, but I can’t say the words, and he knows it.
“I won’t downplay how scary and hard this is for you, but you need to know nothing that happens will scare me away or turn me off. So, this piss-off-and-push-Chris-away shit that you’re thinking about pulling isn’t going to work.”
His words rock me to the core. How did he know? I couldn’t utter a response if my life depended on it. Luckily, he doesn’t expect an answer. What he does do is crush his lips to mine in a powerful, claiming kiss.
My whole body heats in response to Chris’s vow and his mouth until all I can think about is him. I’ve stopped resisting and am now pressing my body into his, trying to get as close to him as I can.
Long before I’m ready, he pulls back and takes my hands. “Now, if you’re finished plotting your escape, I want you to meet my team.”
Again, without waiting for a response, he pulls me down the hallway. Back in the living room, the men wait quietly. Chris pulls me to his side. “Guys, this is Willa Castle.”
Gesturing around the room, he introduces them. “Willa, this is Gunner Murphy.” The man that took us to the back stands and shakes my hand. “Devil,” he says.
The next man comes up, and a pattern emerges. Chris gives their real name, and they tell me their nickname.
“Dr. Bowie Myers.” “Bandaid.”
“Nolan Lockmore, Esquire.” “Judge.”
“Tyler Morgan.” “Hawk.”
“Hagan Fischer.” “Ink.”
“Nix Delano.” “Wrench.”
“And this is Leo Ramsay.” “Call me Skin.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you… even if I don’t understand why you’re here.” They all snicker at my comment, and Dr. Myers, Bandaid, as he wants to be called, steps up. “We’re a team, ma’am, on the battlefield and off. You, your daughter, and possibly Fish are in danger, so we’re here. Plain and simple. Now, it looks like you could use some rest.”
