by J. M. Madden
He glanced at her, the look not as snotty as it had been.
“And it was hard to decide on a direction, though. I had money to go to school, but I didn’t know if I wanted to continue on with what I’d done before. I was in the MPs for four years before I got out.”
His gaze focused in on her face. “Marine?”
“Yes,” she affirmed.
His expression had begun to thaw and she thought she might be connecting with him. “What branch were you in?”
“Same.”
Cool. They had common ground then. “It took me four months to decide I needed to get off my ass and do something with myself. I’d begun to gain weight because I wasn’t training. Laziness became my new way of life, until I got disgusted with myself.”
She gave him a self-deprecating grin and he almost seemed to smile.
“I enrolled in college and got my degree in criminal justice. There are similarities to what I’d done in the MPs, but the job I do now is very different. I’m glad I went to school for it.”
His expression tightened again and he shook his head. “Glad it worked out for you.”
Again, he looked away from her and she had a feeling there was more to the story than being restless after being discharged. “Do you have family?”
His eyes settled shut and his head tipped forward, then his second hand came up to shield his eyes. With a gasp, he shuddered in the chair and Angela finally got an idea of how down he was. Yeah, he was trying to play it off, but he seemed desperately unhappy. “No family?”
He shook his head and glanced up at her. “When I got out my girl said I’d changed and she didn’t want me around no more. Said I was too much of a hothead.”
Damn. She’d heard that before too. “They don’t understand when we get out how crazy our lives are, just trying to settle back into being a civilian. But you have to move on and do what you can to keep yourself sane.”
“She’s got my boy,” he growled, leaning forward to glare into her face. “Or at least she told me he was my boy so I would send money back to her. Now that I’m home she has no idea what I’m talking about, like she suddenly got amnesia or some shit.”
Angela had dealt with enough feral young men to know not to flinch, so she just sat there and waited for him to get his anger under control. “If you have a claim on the child she has to let you see him. That’s the law.”
He scoffed and took a swipe at the table. “That the same law that had me arrested from my own home when I wouldn’t leave?”
Damn. “Yes, it is, believe it or not.”
He seemed dismissive, but he listened as she outlined what he needed to do. Then she handed him a business card. He took it reluctantly, hiding it in one of the pockets of his jacket. Angela wished she could help him more but there were certain steps that he needed to follow through with, beginning with confirming the paternity of the child.
By the time she stood up from the chair, the young man had thawed toward her. He’d even offered his name, Diante.
“Thanks for taking the time with me,” he told her.
“It was no problem. If I can save people some anxiety I’m more than willing to do it. Your anger doesn’t help anyone. Follow up on your college admissions. If you’ve missed sending them an address update they have no way to get in touch with you.”
He nodded. “I’ve just been in a fog, you know. Not knowing which way to go.”
“I understand that, but the choices you’re not making aren’t doing you any good.” She held up a hand to the surrounding room pointedly, and he seemed to get her point.
“Yeah, I know.”
They left the room together. It wasn’t a surprise when they found Charles lurking not too far away. He beamed at them both when they left the room, and moved forward to take Diante’s hand. “She’s a smart lady, huh?”
Diante gave her a sideways glance. “She ain’t bad,” he conceded, making Angela laugh.
Then, with a final glance, he moved into the common room. As her eyes followed him, they automatically latched onto Aiden, standing several yards beyond Diante talking to an older gentleman. For a short, stunning second their gazes connected, then they each looked away.
Angela knew it was time to go. Charles had volunteers showing up for the dinner service already, though it wouldn’t be served for several hours. So, gathering up her things, she headed out the back door and into the alley. There were a few homeless people loitering around, but that was normal. The House served as many as five hundred homeless people a day. All veterans or former spouses of veterans who needed help.
As she walked down the street toward her apartment, Angela thought about what had gone on at the shelter. Many of the men that had come though the line she’d known, or at the very least recognized. She couldn’t imagine any of them being more dangerous than normal, let alone involved in anything covert.
On her way back to the apartment she walked into Rite-Aid. This one was pretty nice in that it had more than just the average pharmacy items. It had several grocery items as well. At some point she would have to go to one of the big box stores to stock up but maybe she could avoid it today.
It was as she was checking out that she noticed a man watching her. He wasn’t obvious about it but she could tell his attention was on her. When she looked at him he turned away, so that she couldn’t see his face well. Angela checked out and stowed her cash, then made sure to keep the bag in her left hand. She wanted her right free just in case.
The man brushed by her, rough enough that she turned a glare at him. He didn’t seem moved by her look. With a cataloguing glance she watched him as she walked away.
Tall, nondescript, pale eyes. Black knit cap on his head, though it was almost sixty degrees. Something about him made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Eventually, she turned the corner, leaving the store and she lost all sight of him, but the incident still bothered her. Rather than walk directly back to her apartment she took a circuitous route, checking her back trail several times. Though it was mid-afternoon, there were no more people out than there normally were.
Eventually, she had to go home, but she made it a point to go in through the building’s back door. It was also security keyed and locked.
Rather than go forward she just took the stairs up to her fourth floor apartment. Unlocking her door, she slipped inside, relocking the deadbolt behind her.
She had a split second to realize that she wasn’t alone in the space. Dropping the bag she started to spin to face the intruder when she was caught from behind. Implacable arms wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet, and spun her around. Angela had no chance to get her balance before she was slammed to the floor. Her head crashed forward into the tile and she cried out. Almost immediately, blood began flowing down her face.
“Where is he?” the man growled, shaking her. An iron hand gripped her by the nape of the neck and she imagined she could feel the bones grinding.
Her left hand had been bracing her but she shifted to try to reach around herself, but, still injured, her left arm was less than perfect. She didn’t have the power to push it around. Flexing her hips she swiveled, getting her knees beneath her. The man seemed to feel the balance shifting, because the grip on her neck tightened. With a straining lurch, she rolled away, breaking his hold.
Ignoring the pain in her arm she braced and looked back. Of course, the man from the pharmacy. Somehow she’d known it was him. Now that she was free, she could reach her weapon. Without hesitation she drew down on him.
The man gave her a leering grin. “Think you’re big shit with that gun, but you aren’t. Why don’t you put that gun down? You don’t need it.”
“Fuck you! Turn around and face the wall. Denver PD, asshole.”
Angela felt a buzzing in her head, then the pressure changed like she was taking off in an airplane. The man stared at her hard, but didn’t make a move to comply. “Turn around,” she snapped.
The m
an frowned and his hard, merciless glare intensified. Angela didn’t understand what was happening when her gun arm began to lower. Gritting her teeth, ignoring the pressure/pain in her head, she tightened her muscles and regained her stance, leveling the gun at him again. What the fuck was going on? Normally she could stand like this for an hour.
Growling, she braced even harder, re-firming her stance. Even with her arm injured, this was a pose she would keep, damn it!
There was a sound at the door. Aiden Willingham lunged inside her apartment and slammed into the intruder.
The pressure in her head released abruptly and Angela could breathe again. All of the power returned to her arms, but she shifted her gun away from Aiden.
Fists were being thrown and bodies were spinning. It was a brutal fight she could barely keep track of and she didn’t know how to help, other than to stand watch. Aiden reared up and pummeled the man repeatedly, till the intruder’s face was bloody. It looked like he was moving at enhanced speed.
Then, suddenly, the situation changed and Aiden was the one on the floor, struggling to keep a knife from plunging into his chest. Moving forward, Angela drew back and slammed her right foot into the intruder’s skull, knocking him away from Aiden.
Shaking his head, the man scrambled to his feet, surveyed the scene then turned and ran out of the apartment door Aiden had left open. There was blood running down the side of his face and he lurched as he cleared the doorway. Angela started to take off after him, till she looked down at Aiden. There was a spreading red stain on the cotton fabric of the sweatshirt, over his abdomen, and he glared up at her.
Pushing to his feet he started to go after the assailant, but Angela caught his arm. He rounded on her with a vicious snarl contorting his face. Then he seemed to realize who she was.
“You can’t go after him,” she told him calmly.
“Why the hell not?”
She motioned to the spreading bloodstain on his front. “Because you’re injured.”
He looked down but merely shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
As if in response to her words he swayed on his feet. Angela reached out and grabbed his arm, but he shrugged her off and staggered away. She wasn’t surprised when he landed on his ass.
Holstering her weapon, she crossed to the apartment door and slid the deadbolt home, for all the good it would do. It hadn’t seemed to stop Aiden from entering. How the hell had he gotten in? For that matter, how had the other guy gotten in?
Following him to the floor she held out a hand to keep him from getting up. “Let’s look at this real quick.”
She tugged at the fabric but he batted her hands away. “It’ll be fine in a minute.”
Angela had heard similar comments from people in dire straits and she didn’t argue with him, knowing it was useless. “Yeah, okay. Let me just look at it. No prodding.”
With a final, burning look around the apartment, he let her lift the clothing away from the skin.
Any other time, Angela would have admired the hard cobbles of his bunched stomach, but right now she could only see the blood flowing down his abdomen. There was a lot of it. Too much. Pushing to her feet she grabbed a bath towel from the back of the kitchen chair a few feet away, then returned to press it against his stomach. “Lay back.”
Blinking at her, he lowered himself to the floor.
“Do you know who that man was?”
Aiden rocked his head on the floor. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Angela peered beneath the towel. Still flowing. “Hold this while I call a squad.”
“No squad,” Aiden hissed. “It’ll stop bleeding in a minute, I promise.”
“That is not going to magically heal itself, I guarantee you.”
“Yeah, it will,” he sounded weary, resigned. “Was he injured?”
“A bit. I kicked him in the head but didn’t appear to do any major damage.”
“Damn.”
Aiden looked down at the slice in his stomach, then used the towel to wipe away the blood.
Angela gasped. “Wait, what did you do?”
The cut that had stretched almost four inches, ending just above the waistband of his jeans, and had been deep, the sides gaping open to show muscle beneath. But it seemed to be sealing up. The blood had stopped. She stared, hard, then moved his hands away.
The cut was definitely healing up. Angela touched her fingers to the cut on her own forehead. It was still bleeding. Maybe she’d concussed herself and just hadn’t realized it.
Aiden seemed to be getting stronger by the minute. He no longer seemed woozy, and his eyes had zeroed in on her injury. Before she could say anything he was up off the floor and looming in front of her. Using the opposite end of the towel she’d gotten him, he used the corner to wipe away the blood from her forehead.
Angela gasped in pain and watched his expression as he blotted it away. His mouth worked, like he felt he needed to say something. “You did good, kicking him off me. Surprised he left himself open like that. Any other injuries?”
She shook her head, still staring down at where the cut had been less than a minute before. Now there was an angry red scrape, and remnants of his blood, but that was all.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted, dazed.
A sudden, lopsided smile spread his mobile mouth and her attention was drawn there. Oh, damn. If that was what he looked like when he smiled she needed to get far, far away.
“I don’t understand it either, but it is what it is.”
Angela almost shook her head again but she knew it would hurt. “I saw him cut you. You were damn near gushing blood. How in hell are you okay?”
He shrugged off her questions and continued to blot at her head. Growing frustrated she grabbed his hand, pulling it away. “I’m fine. Answer me. What the hell is going on with you?”
“Too much to even tell you,” he sighed.
Angela would have continued if she hadn’t seen the desolate, bleak look in his eyes. Though she hadn’t known him long, it made her heart hurt and she curbed the words at the tip of her tongue.
Aiden busied himself cleaning things up, then offered her a hand. Angela took it with no hesitation. And she was glad she had because the sudden change in pressure was enough to make her sway. Aiden cupped her arm in his hand, looking down at her.
All of the air was suddenly gone from the room, and Angela wondered if it wasn’t because of her injury. Or was it their proximity? Men had come on to her before and occasionally she’d taken them up on the offer of fun, but this felt very different. Was it because he’d kissed her before?
As dangerous as it apparently was, there was something drawing her to Aiden Willingham.
Chapter Nine
Aiden looked down into blue-gray eyes darkening into cornflower. She didn’t pull away from his grip, though he knew she wasn’t a woman who liked to be handled a lot. But she looked up at him like she would let him do damn near anything he wanted with her.
But that wouldn’t be fair to her. Yes, he’d kissed her the other day, but that had been to distract her and soften the blow of tricking her. He hadn’t actually expected anything to come from it. As he looked down into her eyes now, though, he could see possibilities.
What would he even do with a woman in his life? It had been years, literally, since he’d participated in any kind of relationship. But the look in her eyes made his body come alive, reminding him that he was still a living being. His heart thudded and tension hummed through him.
Had it only been two days ago that he’d kissed her, and held her against him? He hadn’t wanted to let her go then, and he definitely didn’t want to let her go now.
That tiny bit of self-preservation in his brain warned him that they were not in any position to pursue anything. He let go of her elbow and backed away.
Angela wasn’t happy with that, though. She followed him. “You have to tell me what’s going on. This has come into my
home now. You have to give me some answers.”
He winced, knowing that she was right, hating that she was right.
“Let me take care of your wound.”
He left her standing in the living room and went to her bathroom. Rummaging beneath the sink he found a fairly well-stocked first aid kit. Returning to the living room he guided her to a kitchen chair, then sat in the one beside her. Flipping the case open he pawed through the contents, pulling out what he needed.
Angela still held the towel to her head. Carefully, he eased it away. The blood had started to dry, which was great until pulling away the terry cloth started it bleeding again. Aiden blotted it with a wipe, flaking off the stuff that had dried. The cut wasn’t very deep, but the skin around it was purpling. “You’re going to have a pretty good goose egg here.”
He ran a disinfectant swab over the knot, waved it dry then applied a butterfly bandage right over the top.
“I think disaster follows you,” she said quietly. “I’ve been hurt more this week than I have been in years.”
She said it in a joking manner, but Aiden flinched, feeling like he’d been mule kicked. He pulled back in the chair and started repacking the first aid kit. Then, without looking at her, he cleaned the mess on the table and snatched up the bloody towel. He threw them in the trash, then returned the first aid kit to the bathroom.
“You know I was just joking, right?”
She stood in the doorway, her blue eyes dark with concern. She’d crossed her arms beneath her nicely curved breasts and he was very aware of the solid shape of her, standing right in front of him.
“I know you were joking,” he agreed, moving to go past her, but she held out a hand.
“Then why did you look like that? What am I not seeing? Or hearing?”
He shook his head, still stubborn enough to want to protect her, whether she wanted it or not. “Nothing. I just…” he hesitated, more unsure of himself than he had been in a long time. “I’m already worried about the shit I’ve dragged to your doorstep. I guarantee you he was here for me. Did he say anything?”
