Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
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Copyright Warning
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
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~ Also by Patty Campbell ~
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Heart of a Marine (Book One)
Heart of a Marine
The Wounded Warrior Series Book One
Patty Campbell
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
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Heart of a Marine
Copyright © 2016 by Patty Campbell
ISBN: 978-1-944138-44-8
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: April 2016
CHAPTER ONE
Big-boned, big girl, full-figured—how Marla hated those stupid metaphors. At five-foot-six, she weighed one hundred sixty pounds. Size twelve, just like Marilyn Monroe, but unfortunately due to the nubile teenage models marketed by Victoria’s Secret, Marilyn’s charms were no longer fashionable.
Her fraternal twin sister Charlene, on the other hand, was the same height, with one hundred twenty pounds of lingerie-model curves. Charlene wore her thick, golden blond hair like a privileged princess. Rusty brown eye color was the only thing they had in common. Victoria’s Secret, eat your heart out.
Marla got the brains. She dearly loved Charlene, but she sometimes wondered what was going on upstairs, except for her insatiable appetite for men. To give Charlene credit, she was very successful in her quest.
Now what was Char doing walking toward her at the construction site today? She shaded her eyes from the bright sun and gazed across the cluttered lot.
“Oh, lordy lord, Marla,” her sister said. “How can you stand it? Is he here every day? That man makes my mouth water and my knees quake.”
“Give me a clue, Char. Is it the leer or the tool belt?”
“Are you kidding me? You must be blind. He’s nothing but rippling muscles and he’s got the sexiest little hitch in his walk. Yum. He’s the spittin’ image of Gerard Butler. This guy is hot. Have you noticed how he looks at you? I’m jealous. You should talk to him.”
Marla rolled her eyes and blew out a long sigh. “I do talk to him, much more than I care to. Dwayne Dempsey is a royal pain. It’s a new argument from him every day. Just because he’s the contractor he thinks he knows more about this project than I do.”
Charlene had that moony-eyed grin on her face. “Well, he is the contractor.”
“Oh, for the love of goats, Charlene!” What was the use? “I own this building. He’s supposed to follow my design, my blueprints, not argue about every little detail.” She wasn’t sure Charlene recognized the difference between employer and employee.
Marla wouldn’t admit it, but she did have eyes, and she considered Dwayne Dempsey quite good-looking. Mouthwatering actually. She also knew how much he enjoyed flirting with the fat girl.
Dwayne looked up from his cell phone, hitched up his jeans, and winked at Charlene. He turned and waved when a man in the construction trailer yelled, “Yo, Gunny, over here!”
“Oh, lordy. I want him.”
“Take him, please. You’re welcome to him.”
Charlene scrunched her eyebrows. “Who’s Gunny?”
“Dwayne. He’s a retired marine. His men call him that. Now, what are you doing here?”
Charlene dragged her gaze from Dwayne’s back and shoulders as he walked away. Hand on her heart, she sighed. “Look at his perfect butt in those beat-up jeans. I don’t know how you stand it.”
Marla took the roll of blueprints and tapped her twin on the head. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
Marla rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. I thought we’d go for lunch. We have to strategize for the singles dinner thingy. Remember? You promised you’d go with me. It’s tomorrow night.”
Darn it! She’d forgotten all about her promise to Charlene and her brothers. Charlene had wheedled her about it to the point where she was ready to agree to anything just to get her to stop. It must have been the fact she was exhausted and so worried about the financials for this apartment house condo conversion. She’d better find a buyer for that great new listing she got before she had to start pinching pennies on this project.
Marla blew an annoyed sigh and thumb
ed across the screen of her iPhone. She had every minute of the day accounted for. “Why didn’t you call me last night and give me a heads-up? I’m swamped today.”
“I just found out an hour ago that Harry and Barry could meet us for lunch. You know how hard it is to get them to sit for an hour. It was today or never.”
Grrr, this meant she had to talk to Dwayne, to let him know she’d be away from the site for a couple of hours. She straightened her shoulders. Might as well get it over with.
Marla waved the roll of blueprints. “Dwayne! Hold up. I want to talk to you.”
Delectable Dwayne stopped and turned. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “I thought you’d never ask, gorgeous.”
Her face and neck blazed. He was the only man on earth who could make her blush. She hated him for doing it and herself for allowing it.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Dempsey, I’m your employer. Don’t you think it’s a tiny bit improper for you to call me gorgeous?” She gave him her sternest scowl and slammed her hands onto her hips.
The devil grinned. “I believe in honesty, boss. Goes with being a Marine.”
Resisting the urge to scream, she told him in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll be offsite for about two hours.” She pointed to a truck that pulled onto the premises. “You’ll have to sign for that load of drywall. Check it closely. Make sure they don’t try to pawn off some of that cheap Chinese stuff on us, like last week. If you need me, you have my cell number.”
“I need you all right.” His grin was enough to stop her heart. “But I’d rather have your unlisted home number.”
The last thing she wanted complicating her life was an unrepentant bad boy. Marla had her life planned. She knew where she was going and she was going alone.
He winked.
She silently swore by all that was holy that the big lout changed his posture, tilted his pelvis forward slightly, then grinned like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
“One of these days, Dempsey.”
“It’s what I live for, Red.”
He referred to her mass of strawberry blond hair, which at the moment was growing larger in the damp breeze. How she hated her hair, especially when he teased her. She whirled around and flounced away before she said something she’d regret.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, Red. Wait! I’ll need a copy of the invoice.”
She stopped, dug through her briefcase with a vengeance, found the invoice and thrust it toward him, noticing again the two missing fingers on his left hand. Maybe he wasn’t as good with power tools as he seemed to think.
“Here, take it, Dempsey.” She held the paper at arm’s length to avoid getting any closer.
Why, she asked herself, did she put up with him? Two reasons—he was the best in the business, and his father and her father had been best buddies for over fifty years. The two old friends were known by their pals as The Double D’s—Dempsey and Danaher.
She wouldn’t fire Dwayne as long as he was doing his job, but she could plan his murder. Maybe she’d ask Char to shag him to death. No, maybe she’d do it herself. Have a little fun while getting rid of him. He’d learn not to mess with her.
Cheeks on fire over her thoughts, she rejoined Charlene. “Let’s go before I commit a felony.”
Char’s beautiful face scrunched with confusion. “Is he related to that old cutie pie, Johnny Dempsey? He looks like him, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he’s John’s middle son. The one we seldom saw when we were kids because he left to live in Wyoming with his mother.”
Light dawned like the sunrise in Charlene’s eyes. “Oh, yes, now I remember. Barry or Harry said Dwayne hated the wicked stepmother.”
Harry and Barry, their twin brothers. Identical twins, not fraternal like Charlene and Marla. Twins ran in the Danaher family. Two Danaher’s for the price of one. Or, as they privately joked behind Dadley’s back—he only got two cracks at it. Maybe that’s all Bradley wanted with their ditzy mother, Silvia. What a family. If it wasn’t for Marla, they’d fall apart. When her mother had complications after the birth of the boys, Marla spent a lot of time taking care of them. Gradually, with Silvia’s free and easy compliance, she took over more and more of their care. Taking charge came natural to her.
Fortunately for Marla’s busy schedule, the restaurant was only a short ten minutes away from the jobsite.
Barry and Harry sat waiting for them in the deli. College boys, they looked the part, like they’d come straight from Central Casting. At seven years younger than Marla and Charlene, few people, including their immediate family, could tell the two twenty-year-olds apart. The boys often finished each other’s sentences, and their gestures were like mirror images. It was beyond fascinating to watch them. She had a hunch their professors had long ago given up accusing them of cheating when their test results were nearly as identical as they were.
Electrical engineering geniuses, her boys would someday be filthy rich, live in ocean front mansions in Malibu, drive matching silver Jaguars, have gorgeous trophy wives, and two perfect sets of identical twin children. But for now they were still her baby brothers, and they understood they darn well better not cross her.
Charlene smiled as they made their way through the deli crowd. “There they are. Let’s go sit with the best-looking men in the room.” She sashayed the rest of the way to their table. “Hey there, sailors,” she vamped, “want a date?”
The boys laughed, stood up like proper gentlemen, and held chairs out for them. They’d already ordered iced tea all around.
Marla’s baby brothers always evoked a feeling of gooey warmth and love in her chest. She took credit for everything they did right, and blamed Charlene when they’d misbehaved or cursed. Insisting Charlene quit teaching them profanity, Lord and lordy lord became a permanent part of her sister’s vocabulary.
Barry, or Harry, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “How’s it going, BS?”
BS was short for Big Sis, a term of endearment the boys used for both her and Charlene. Being word misers, they spoke with as few words as possible. Why, she didn’t know. Charlene used enough for all of them, so it balanced out.
She noticed the little fleck of gold in Barry’s left iris. “I’m fine Honey Barry. Have you two visited Miss Emmaline lately?” She raised an eyebrow. “She’s very fond of you boys.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. She asked when you’d be home from Cal Tech for spring break.” She looked across the table. “Harry, did you go to the nursery to pick up that potted hydrangea for her balcony?”
“In the car.”
Charlene asked, “Why is she living in the middle of a big construction project? It must be a pain for the crew to work around her.”
Marla’s thoughts exactly. “It was a condition of the construction contract when Dempsey accepted the job. He didn’t want to displace her while they worked on the building. He insisted they could complete the project with her there with very little extra time.”
“Oh.” Charlene nodded. “Did you boys order lunch for us?”
“Cheeseburger for you and—”
“—chef salad for Marla.”
That’s what she meant about finishing sentences.
“Good. Just what I wanted.” Marla was sick of chef salads, but the boys were so smug about being able to read her mind, she didn’t want to burst their bubble.
“We know,” they said.
She barely had time to take a sip of the tea when the waitress brought their plates. Harry, Barry, and Charlene had humongous cheeseburgers and mountains of heavenly smelling fries. Marla swore the waitress twisted her lips when she handed over the salad as if to say, “Diet isn’t working, chubby.” Wait until the skinny little snot saw the tip she’d get for that look.
Charlene produced a to-do list from her large shoulder bag, purse, overnight-emergency-whatever that she always lugged. Prepared for any eventuality, her Charlene was. God bless her fun-loving little heart. She list
ened as Char droned on about the singles meet-up. Marla ate about half her salad and pushed the plate away. Half an hour later, she checked her watch and yawned.
Charlene rolled her eyes. “OK, Marla, I get it. You’re on a tight schedule.” Char eyed the boys. “Remember, do your dazzle-the-girls-thing and don’t mess up my perfect plans. You’re there in case Marla or I get stuck with a creep.”
The boys bobbed their heads. “Gotcha.”
Char took a dainty sip of tea to wash down a big mouthful of fries. “Oh, I almost forgot. Did you boys know Dwayne Dempsey was working on the condo project with Marla?”
“Nope,” they said.
“You probably don’t remember him, but he’s Johnny Dempsey’s middle son. He’s, oh, lordy lord, the most gorgeous bundle of testosterone on two feet, if you ask me.”
“We didn’t.” They snickered.
Marla interrupted. “First of all, Charlene, he’s working for me, not with me. I own the building. It’s my project, my design, and my money.”
Char rolled her big, expressive eyes. “So sorry. A minor detail.”
“Hardly. I pay his wages.”
Char flashed a dismissive finger wave. “Whatever. You have to admit he’s the best-looking man in town.” She smiled at the boys. “Other than you two, of course, and guess what?” She winked. “He wants to get in Marla’s pants.”