I suck in a deep lungful of oxygen.
“What do you mean my wife?” I seethe as the words bound from my lips. My stomach churning into a pit full of raw sewage.
“Here.” Brewer hands over a thick manila envelope. Is he seriously not going to tell me? He comes here and meets me with this strange woman, wearing nothing but his civilian clothes and I’m supposed to just accept my fate? Ha—guess they think my quiet demeanor suggests passivity. Guess again.
Yanking the envelope from his hands, I press my back into the thick leather. Sliding a finger into the top, I tear it open. Even though I can feel the woman’s eyes nearly eating me alive. I ignore her and focus my attention on the packet, my blood boiling like hot molten lava. Who in the hell do these people think they are? They come in and disrupt my life with my fiancé. They pull me away from my children and now they think I’m going to succumb to months of being a domesticated husband, fake or not, to someone other than my Emily. Not likely.
First page I skim. My eyes resting to one particular sentence.
‘Numerical security codes mentally obtained coincide with alphabetical counterpart instilled in separate safe link.’
You’ve got to be kidding me. Apparently Pen—whatever her name is, is my alphabetical counterpart. Why on god’s green earth did they not inform me of that when this was all mentally engrained?
Next page.
Key point- ‘Nuclear armament and disarmament codes, to be extracted at integral intervals over an extensive time period. Suggested timeframe; not exceeding fifteen months.’
Next page.
‘Codes to be extracted at intervals to protect from possible detonation, including but not limited to terrorist acts of war.’
I finish the rest of the document, sitting in moving silence as only the tires on the pavement sound. I can hear both of them breathing but they’ve done the correct thing and kept their mouths locked tight. With the tension building in my body, I feel like a dang rubber band. I might snap at any moment. This isn’t like me at all. But what can I expect when you take me from the only person who means everything to me. To inevitably shack up with another, thanks to government protocol and no contact can be made until my duty has been fulfilled. It’s stated clearly in this document. Yet, the only thing they don’t seem to outline is the why.
“Why… are they bringing me in?” I clear my throat. “Excuse me, us in.” I try to sound reasonably calm. I don’t think I’m succeeding. I can feel the muscles in my neck bulging and my jaw is clenched so tightly I might chip a tooth. My fingers are gripping the papers firmly as I attempt to control my breathing. I can feel my inherent self-control fading fast.
“The government. Actually, the president himself is in need of the proper codes to test some of the world’s most dangerous nuclear warheads and other important matters. Things of which, even someone with such high clearances as yourself, is not ranked high enough to warrant such information,” Brewer answers forwardly, without an ounce of insolence.
“In layman’s terms, it’s above my pay grade,” I tack on snidely.
“Precisely. All I can tell you is we are going to the Pentagon tomorrow to start your initial paperwork for induction fully into the program. At that time, you two will be given a place to house, an assignment to complete alongside your safe link extraction duties. You will be given a new cell phone, a new identity for the time you serve with us, as well as all the provisions and comforts needed to live as a stable married couple for the duration of this job. After the completion, you will be allowed to return to your former lives or take up another assignment with us. The choice will be up to you both,” he explains, speaking to us both. Sergeant Gonzales just keeps staring at me out of the corner of her eye. I don’t think she’s looked anywhere else since I’ve entered this car. Am I that intimidating? Emily’s always said I scare… how does she put it? The bejesus out of everyone. Something about my dark clothing, the way I carry myself and my guns. Although she swore it was one of the sexiest qualities about me. Sexy? Ha—I never thought I’d hear my name and that word used in the same sentence. Quiet, reserved, strong, brooding, self-controlled...yes, those are some words that resonate with me. But sexy or handsome and especially perfect would never come into context when I think about who I am. But apparently my woman views me differently. One of the reasons why I am so deeply in love with her.
I ride in silence and lean my head back, closing my eyes as my two fellow ride-alongs causally carry on a conversation which I ignore.
I allow my mind to drift into the past, trying to kick this constant aching in my chest. I knew leaving her would do this to me; I just never thought it would affect me this intensely. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I’m on the verge of a serious cardiac episode.
The first time I spotted Emily was at the Vegas concert for Stricken. Stacy, her best friend and road manager. Well, let’s face it— he’s what keeps the band afloat. I’ve always done the babysitting and he corrals the rest. Anyhow, he informed me he was bringing Emily on part-time as the co-manager. Something about his mom being ill and he needed the help. I wasn’t going to argue. Although I did have my own internal reservations considering the poor Indiana born and bred woman would have to endure countless hours of potent male testosterone. Which is inevitably increased when they consume generous amounts of liquor and beer.
Standing next to the stage, Stacy flirted with women as he always did and when I went to tap him on the shoulder to grab his attention. I had to discuss something. I can’t even remember what is was, now.
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me.
We discussed whatever it is I had to say and then he turned the conversation into what has turned out to be the most important moment in my entire life.
“See there, the woman in the front row.” He pointed to this petite redhead with such a business infused, uptight, uncomfortable persona I almost felt sorry for her. From afar she was still radiantly beautiful. Although at the time, I was accustomed to being surrounded by hot women. Not that I’ve ever partook in any of the group sex or parties. I have, however, been approached many times by women, inebriated and seeking a little bodyguard attention. The only attention I gave was compassion and sadness for them. Many times I’d sit with them as they cried in a drunken stupor. I’ve held more women’s hair as they vomited than I can count. It’s never been an essential part of the job description. It’s just who I am. The softer side of me surfacing when I see—for lack of a better term—a damsel in distress.
I kept my eye on the pretty little redhead the entire night. Even after I left the stage and took a spot at the bottom, behind the metal barricade. Wearing my signature black on black, I watched her, as she watched and danced a little as the show progressed. Sweat gleamed like tiny diamonds off of her delicate features and that was the first time I’d ever gotten a hard-on just observing a woman. Years of watching threesomes and countless ruthless blowjobs administered to Johnathan. Not even once did it ever pique my sexual desires. Emily did, from the very first moment. Something about her has always generated heart palpitations. The need to protect her and love her. Even if I didn’t realize it was love at first, it didn’t take long to figure out. Even if I did spend weeks trying to convince myself otherwise. Being the proverbial hermit and then meeting a woman like her, is like smelling salts abrasively assaulting the senses. A total mind fuck. Pardon my French.
“We’re almost there” my ol’ buddy Brewer informs me. I lean up, opening my eyes and peering out the window. The ocean is within view from this highway, traveling south toward Oceanside, to enter Camp Pendleton. One of many southern California military bases. I’ve visited them all at one time or another.
“I just love California weather,” Sergeant Gonzales adds, running her long fingers through her even longer hair.
“Where are you from?” Brewer asks her.
“Washington, sir,” she answers with a light smile. Flashing just the faintest amount of her pearly
whites, clashing brightly against her tanned skin.
If I have to live with this woman, it doesn’t mean I have to like her or be friendly. I just have to do my job and pray that Emily won’t be married to Johnathan by the time I’m finished. Which, if I’m honest with myself, I can see happening. Johnathan is sneaky and charming. Emily typically sees through most of his bull but the sweetness in her makes her susceptible to his covert manipulations. He’s rather tactile in the way he plays women. I never cared much before. I never liked it. But it wasn’t my job to interfere. Now it’s my sole duty to protect and prevent his volatile emotional warfare. All if it is to fill the void that resides within him. I realize he’s been screwed over basically his entire life. I know all of it. Including the dirty and dingy parts. Parts that you would feel completely tainted even talking about. And somewhere in his swirling vortex of baggage, he has decided to claim Emily as the prize. The light at the end of his proverbial tunnel, regardless of how it affects or destroys her. All he cares for is to win at all costs. I just pray I’m back in time to keep anything from setting in stone. Even if in the end she doesn’t choose me, being with him is not in her best interest. Emotionally or physically. If she only knew some of the kinky and degrading stuff he puts women through. None of which Emily, even on her best and happiest day, would agree to.
We pull into the gate, the driver is greeted by an MP and we are shooed on. Making our way to my unfortunate departure. The weight of my impending position is starting to sink heavily into my spirit. Chipping away my happiness and filling the hollowness with darkness. The only way I know the light will ever shine brightly back in my world is when it’s returned to the woman who holds the key to my heart. Only then will I ever be whole again.
Chapter Eight
~Johnathan~
“How’s she doing?” I ask the nurse on duty, my elbows resting on the cheaply veneered raised nurses’ station. We are officially thirty hours W.J (without James.)
“Hasn’t uttered a word since he left,” the nurse with pretty, deep chocolate eyes informs me, as she clicks around on her computer. Not even looking up but a moment to acknowledge me. Which is out of character for most women. Usually women throw themselves at me or at least blush and flirt. Not this woman.
“Has she at least touched our twins?” My voice flitters with frustration. I saw Emily yesterday shortly after James took off. And even then she didn’t seem interested in anything.
With eyebrows fiercely drawn, lips pulled into a sneering disgust, the nurse abruptly stands, sending her rolling chair back a significant distance, clinking into the opposite side of the little nurses’ station.
“Mr. Striker, not only has Emily been devastated by losing the… What I’d call the love of her life.”
I recoil at her pungent words. Standing straight up I tuck my hands into my gray shorts pockets.
“I…”
Snapping her intense eyes directly at me, I close my mouth.
“As I was saying,” she huffs, tossing her arms across her small perky chest. “She’s lost her anchor. Has been sheltered from the outside world. Sequestered to a bed for months, under strict medical care. And she’s had to endure countless pain, both emotionally and physically. Not to mention, she just had the twins on Tuesday. To put it mildly, she’s been through a lot,” she emphasizes and takes in a sharp breath.
“But…to answer your important question,” she continues, obviously mocking me.
“The strong, amazing woman has yet to miss a feeding or diaper change. And, she refuses to allow Stacy to help. He’s been sitting in her room, holding Eric and Jenna and taking Emily’s nonverbal cues. She refuses to eat, so we’ve started an IV and she’s slept very little. Doctor Stephanie Pierson has attempted to talk with her, offering her support. But she’s still mute. Which is to be expected.”
“Expected?” My voice booms.
Is there an expectation on how screwed up everything is or going to be? How it’s supposed to be. That sounds ridiculous.
“Yes…expected. It’s not uncommon for new mothers to demonstrate different levels of postpartum depression. Plus, her added stress will probably amplify her symptoms,” she answers in a flamboyantly snooty way.
If she wasn’t caring for Short Stack, I’d be sure to put this nasty mouthed bitch in her place. However, I’ll do the right thing and refrain. Even though this is going to kill me!
“Ahh...” I sigh, allowing the air that blows from my mouth to carry my increasingly volatile attitude out with it. Providing me with a little more self-control.
“Here.” She produces a booklet, shoving it against my chest.
Easy there, bitchy nurse.
I take it and rifle through the pages, already bored.
“It’s about postpartum depression,” she explains, eyeing the booklet in my grasp.
“Ok, I’ll read it.”
Maybe I really should. I attempted to read ‘What to expect when you’re expecting.’ Cammy bought it for me and two chapters in I was snoozing at every other word. Now it sits indefinitely on my bookshelf in the beach house’s office. Along with Emily’s extensive collection of novels.
“Now when can I take her home?” I point with the booklet, towards Emily’s room, just down the hall.
“That will be up to Dr.Golds. I don’t see it being until at least Monday or Tuesday with the condition she’s in. If she doesn’t eat, we can’t release her. The babies are ready to go whenever. But we won’t discharge them into anyone’s custody except hers or James’s.”
I stare hateful daggers at her, my blood beginning to boil. James. Motherfucking James. I am their father. End of story!
“You do know those are my kids, nurse...” I check her name tag. “Shelly,” I curtly enunciate, surprised she hasn’t noticed the steam billowing from my ears.
Screw her and the horse the bitch rode in on. I’m going to be a fanfuckingtastic father.
“Yes, that I do realize, Mr. Striker. But I don’t know you and to be honest, I’m not so sure you’re equipped or trained to care for the twins properly.”
This snooty righteous cocky bitch is about to hear it. I can feel my temperature reach catastrophic proportions. My body tenses head to toe.
Don’t blow up. This won’t help your situation with Emily. She’s trying to get under your skin.
I suck in a deep breath, hold it in and turn to leave. Removing myself from the temptation to explode. God only knows what nasty rudeness would spew from my vulgar mouth.
Striding to Emily’s room, I will myself to relax. I can’t face her or the twins in this shitty fuckin’ mood. Righting myself, I open her door without knocking. Stacy stands from what used to be James’s seat.
“Hello Johnathan,” Stacy greets morosely.
“Sorry I’m not the pope,” I kid with a chuckle, to lighten the mood. It’s seriously gloomy up in this damn room. Blinds are drawn, TV’s on but muted, and some of the flowers are starting to wilt. It’s like somebody died. Except nobody has. And our children were just born. Which under normal circumstances is cause for celebration. Apparently nobody got that damn memo either. It’s not like James is gone forever. Well, if I’d have it my way he’d have gone long ago. But I never get what I fucking want. The almighty just doesn’t swing favors my direction. Luck of a shitty life.
I walk a little further into the room that’s full of suffocating sadness. Emily doesn’t even acknowledge me. The machine next to her is pumping IV fluids into her system. Her skin is sheet white. Which is surprisingly even paler than her normal peachy pale skin. The hair on her head is remarkably maintained and pulled back into a low bun thingy. I think they call it a chignon, or some weird Frenchy crap. It’s the same hair-do she wore the first time I ever spotted her from the stage at the scorching hot Vegas concert.
Slowly edging even closer, I see what Emily’s gaze is fixed on. Our daughter Jenna is firmly attached to her oh-so-supple breast.
My eyes can’t help but gawk at her luscious
exposed mound. My daughters head fades away in my vision and all I can see is her lovely skin. Saliva pools in my mouth and I swallow it down. At the same time I can feel my dick stirring.
Don’t you dare get to full mast you sick kinky fucker!
Stacy loudly snaps his fingers and I immediately break my perverted all-consuming stare.
“Stop...” He warns, looking to me and back to Emily’s boob, three or four times.
I nod, twice, getting the gist. He’s over protective of her and I’m not about to take on the best friend. Who also happens to be my manager and friend, too. That wouldn’t bode well for me. Most things as of late haven’t boded well for me. Except… which this a huge one. Except James taking a hike. A full on, no communication, sucked into government protection, kind of hike. My second favorite kind. The first would make me sound like an even bigger dickwad. So I’ll just keep that little sick thought all to myself.
I take a seat on the short couch and Stacy carries Eric to me. Turning my arm just right I support his tiny little melon head on the crook of my elbow. And he instantaneously starts in on his whinny grunting. I am certain my son hates me. Every time I’ve ever held him he’s unhappy. Jenna on the other hand doesn’t seem to mind me. Eric’s a predestined mommy’s boy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him peep an unhappy sound in Em’s arms. Not that they are very old.
“Can we talk business, Stace?” I ask him, as I hold my full attention to lightly bouncing my angry Eric.
“In a minute, hold on.” I look up and find him dabbing Emily’s dripping nipple off with a tissue. As she gently burps Jenna on her lap. Her hand cupping under her chin as her other lightly swats Jenna’s back. Producing a rather manly burp to blow from such a little creature.
Damn. I think my daughter just put me to shame.
Another drop dribbles from Emily’s breast and he swipes that one away too. Apparently, gay means full access to her goods. She doesn’t seem to care and she even gives him a lazy smile as he finishes and lifts Jenna, placing her back into her hospital bed, now full of milk and half asleep.
Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Page 72
