Impossible End (Unchecked Book 3)

by Bartel, Sybil

  She showed up on my doorstep beaten and stabbed. I did what I was trained to do. I stitched her up. I didn’t have a clue who she was and I told myself I didn’t care. Until they came looking for her.

  I swore to her I’d take my last breath before I let anything else happen to her. Except when everything went to hell, I was the one left holding the gun. I thought being a twenty-six-year-old widower was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It wasn’t even close.

  Chapter One

  I swirled the ice in my glass. The moonlight glimmered on the bride’s dark hair and the past two years disappeared. I was no longer watching my best friend dance with his new wife. I was remembering the feeling of my wife’s hair as it slipped through my fingers and drowning in her deep brown gaze as she said two simple words.

  “Another?”

  I blinked and the image of my dead wife was gone. I looked up at the waitress. “Sorry, darlin’. Come again?”

  Blonde, cute, she glanced at the bride and groom then looked back at me and smiled. “They make a beautiful couple.”

  “No denyin’ that.” I tossed back the last of my whiskey.

  “Would you like another drink?” she asked sweetly.

  I dragged my eyes the length of her and smiled a smile that usually got me what I wanted. “That depends.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks but she didn’t drop my gaze. “On what?”

  I stared at her tits then her lips. “You.”

  A small giggle escaped and she fluttered her eyelashes like she thought it’d make a difference. “You’re forward.”

  “I’m single,” I stated, already irritated with this conversation. “What time you get off?”

  “Half hour,” she said coyly.

  I stood and placed my glass on her tray then leaned down to her ear. “Then grab me another whiskey while I wait for you, darlin’.”

  She shivered but she didn’t move.

  “Now,” I commanded.

  “Yes, sir,” she giggled, hightailing it back to the bar.

  I watched her ass as André walked up beside me.

  Glancing over his shoulder at her, he chuckled. “Fifty bucks says you don’t know her name.”

  I didn’t need to, I nicknamed them all anyway. “Hundred bucks says she’ll know mine in an hour.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.” He inclined his head toward Blaze and Layna on the dance floor. “Blaze asked me for a security detail while they’re on their honeymoon. Know what that’s about?”

  I scanned the perimeter out of habit. “I thought we took care of that.”

  “Me too.” André casually glanced across the lanai then looked up and down the beach.

  I knew what he was thinking. Beyond the small lights strung up around the tables, it was dark as fuck. Lots of places someone could hide. “What’d Blaze say?”

  “He didn’t. Just that he wanted two of my men and he doesn’t want Layna to know about it.”

  A memory of my wife on our honeymoon played in my mind like a cruel joke. No amount of security could’ve saved her life. “Can’t blame a man for bein’ cautious.”

  The waitress walked up and I shoved the memory away.

  “Here you go.” Holding out my drink, her smile was no longer shy.

  I took the glass, my fingers purposely grazing hers. “Thanks, butterfly.”

  André grinned. “Yes, thank you, butterfly.”

  She looked between us with a confused expression.

  “Ignore him, darlin’. Hurry and finish up. Won’t take me a half hour to drink this.” I winked.

  André laughed after she walked off. “Easiest fifty bucks I ever earned.”

  “Fuck you.” I took a sip of the drink, feeling the burn.

  He sobered. “Won’t help, you know.”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

  He shrugged casually. “Tonight couldn’t have been easy, seeing them get married.”

  The muscles in my shoulders went rigid and I swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. “You got somethin’ to say, say it.”

  “Drinking, screwing random waitresses, it won’t make you forget her. Leigh didn’t want this for you. She wanted you to move on.”

  I spun on him, rage boiling in my veins. “Don’t fuckin’ speak her name to me again, you hear me?”

  He didn’t even flinch. “I trust you with my life, brother, but this isn’t you. Respect her memory.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about respect,” I bit out.

  André looked at me with pity and I wanted to slam his face into the tiled patio.

  He shook his head. “I know you got no respect for the life you’ve been living.”

  The waitress reappeared at my side and smiled. “I got off a little early.” Her hand glanced across my arm and settled in the crook of my elbow.

  Fuming, my chest tight, I looked down and her features blurred into the sea of nameless women I’d fucked over the past two years. I shook her arm off. “Somethin’ came up.”

  Her face twisted in confusion. “But I—”

  “But nothin’.” Fuck her, fuck André, fuck the whole wedding party. I shoved my hand in my pocket and grabbed my keys as I strode toward the parking lot.

  “Wait,” she called.

  Already halfway to my car, I ignored her. I got in my Challenger and drove the seven hour drive home.

  Chapter Two

  Tired as fuck, I stared out the front window of my surf shop at the blonde across the street.

  Kendall smirked. “She’s been out there since yesterday. Are you going to talk to her?”

  I turned and took in my employee’s tight leather laced-up top. If I didn’t think she’d gut me in my sleep, I would’ve nailed her long ago. “Who you talkin’ about?” I played dumb.

  “Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” Kendall put her red painted fingernail on the front window and tapped the glass. “She’s been parked in the same spot since yesterday afternoon and that…is not a purse.” She pointed at the small duffel next to Nicole’s feet. “That’s an I-left-my-man bag.”

  Fuck. She was probably right. Nicole’s boyfriend was an asshole. I’d never figured how he scored someone as sweet as her. “Maybe she’s just gettin’ a little sun. Nothin’ wrong with a beach day.”

  “First of all, I know you’re not that stupid and second, a beach day would entail a towel, a bikini, and your feet actually hitting the sand, not parking your ass on the beach wall.” Kendall threw her hands up. “But if you want to be dick and not help her…” She trailed off and sauntered back toward the register.

  Goddamn it. I didn’t want to deal with this shit. I’d driven all night to get home and minus a quick stop at my house for a shower, I’d come straight to work. All I wanted to do was finish the surfboard I was working on, catch some waves, and get a decent night’s sleep. I needed to forget about women, all women, including the one with her back to me, sitting on the beach wall like she was lost as fuck. As if she’d heard me, Nicole wrapped her arms around her stomach like she was cold.

  “Shit. It’s fuckin’ eighty-five degrees out,” I muttered.

  Kendall looked up from taking inventory and rolled her eyes. “It’s Florida. Your point?”

  “Nothin’,” I snapped, walking back to my office. I grabbed my keys and my 9mm, tucking it into my back waistband and pulling my t-shirt over it. For once, I was glad I was in jeans instead of board shorts.

  “Expecting trouble?” Kendall smirked.

  She knew Nicole’s boyfriend, Randy. It was a stupid question. If he was around, there was trouble. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

  She crossed her arms. “That’s what everyone says—right before they take a bullet between the eyes.”

  Anyone else saying those words, it would’ve been a warning. But Kendall followed it with a smile that was one hundred percent meant to rile.

  I pushed past her. “Watch the shop.”

  Her voice went sugary
sweet. “Gee, Kendall, can you please look after my store while I run out and play hero? I know you’re here more than me but I really appreciate it. You’re such a good friend and employee to have.” Then she dropped the pretense and yelled, “You don’t pay me enough!”

  She was probably right. “Buy yourself lunch. Take it out of the register.” Sunglasses on, I stepped out into the humid morning.

  I crossed the street and five paces away, I knew something was wrong. Nicole wasn’t hugging herself, she was cradling her arm. Hair disheveled, t-shirt stained and ripped, I could see from here there was mottling on the back of her neck.

  Slowing my pace, I made a wide arc and approached from the side of her good arm. Three feet away, I stopped. “Hey, Nic.”

  Her back straightened but she didn’t say anything.

  I looked out at the ocean. “Nice day for the beach.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “You’re not workin’ today?” I couldn’t remember what she did but Randy, the prick, complained about her working all the time.

  When she didn’t answer, I hopped up on the wall next to her and she flinched. “Hey, hey, hey, darlin’. Nothin’ doin’, just sittin’ a spell. That all right?”

  She shrugged one shoulder.

  I glanced sideways at her arm. No blood or bone jutting out, but the way she was holding it, something was wrong. Looking like she was skittish as hell, I didn’t push. “Gorgeous day,” I commented, scanning the beach for any sign of Randy.

  She didn’t answer me and I didn’t see him so I started counting sets. The waves were shit and whatever the hell was wrong with her, I didn’t want to deal. I’d bet my bank account it was tied up around Randy and veteran or not, he was an asshole who couldn’t handle his shit, let alone the amount of alcohol he pounded.

  I was starting to lose patience with the waiting game when she shifted slightly and I felt her eyes dart toward me.

  “I think he’s dead,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  I turned and when I saw her face, anger surged. “Motherfucker. What the hell did he do to you?” The whole left side of her face was a mess—eye swollen, lip split, cheek bruised and purpling. She quickly hung her head but I caught her chin. “Oh, no you don’t.” I held her face in place, surveying the damage. “What the fuck did he use? A goddamn two-by-four?” No fist caused this. I was going to fucking kill him if he wasn’t dead already.

  “I fell,” she said nervously.

  “Bullshit.”

  She pulled her chin free. “It’s true. I fell into the doorframe.”

  “Fell or was pushed? And what do you mean dead?”

  She looked away. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Jesus fuck. I rubbed my hand over my face. “Cops after you?”

  “No…I don’t think so.”

  I pushed off the wall then reached for her. “C’mon. First things first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  She leaned back, clutching her arm tight.

  The look of fear in her eyes went straight to my gut and something inside me twisted. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’, I promise.” I gently put my hands on her waist. “C’mon, let me help you down.”

  She didn’t fight me but when her feet hit the pavement, her leg gave out. Falling into my chest, she let out a small cry of pain. My arms were around her in a nanosecond and the smell of jasmine broadsided me.

  “Sh, sh, I gotcha.” Jesus, she smelled fucking incredible. Sunshine and innocence and sweet jasmine swirled around in my head and threatened to take hold.

  “Sorry,” she breathed out, her voice laced with pain.

  Something stirred in my chest. I shut it down and went into medic mode. “Can you walk?”

  “Mm hm.” Her face strained, she cautiously put her foot down, and her hand landed on my stomach for support.

  The second she touched me, heat exploded and I forgot all my training. I stared at her small hand just a few inches above my dick and raw desire ripped through my veins.

  I clenched my jaw and forced some words out. “You lyin’?” She was beat to hell and I was telling my dick to calm down? What the fuck?

  She panted through a few short breaths then barely shook her head.

  “Nic?” I growled, two seconds away from picking her up.

  Her hand slid to my side and trembling fingers dug into me with desperation. “Yeah?”

  I vowed then and there that Randy-fucking-Carter was going to pay for this. Forcing my voice to a calm I didn’t feel, I stroked the soft skin of her good arm. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. If you don’t think anything’s broken, find your balance.” If I had to carry this jasmine vixen, I was in fucking trouble.

  “Nothing’s broken.” She inhaled, putting weight on her leg.

  Without thinking, I stroked her hair.

  Startled, she looked up. Big blue eyes and a face full of mistrust met my gaze.

  Everything went still.

  The bullshit chaos in my head, grief, anger, it all went quiet like the flip of a switch—a fucking jasmine switch.

  I cleared my throat and forced myself to step back. “C’mon.” I grabbed her duffel.

  She took a step and an unsteady tremor went up her spine.

  My hand automatically went to her back and I felt around for anything out of place. “Your back too or just your leg?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Jesus. “No, you’re not. But I’m gonna see what I can do ‘bout that.” I put an arm around her shoulders and she instantly leaned into me for support.

  I walked her to my shop and for once, Kendall kept her head down and her mouth shut. I led Nic to my office and set her in a chair.

  She winced and the leg she’d been favoring stayed straight out in front of her. “Thank you.”

  Enough with this bullshit. “Where else are you hurt?” I demanded.

  “My wrist.”

  I stared at her. Blonde hair tossed by the wind, clothes a mess, face beaten to hell, she was still beautiful. I caved. “All right. I’ll play this your way.”

  I squatted next to her and my training took over. I inspected the swelling on her cheek and gently pushed at the surrounding bone but she didn’t flinch. I pulled her wrist toward me and turned her hand over in mine.

  She sucked in a breath and shifted in her seat.

  I bit back my anger. “Tell me what happened.”

  She shrugged the one shoulder.

  Holding her wrist, I felt my way up the rest of her arm. “Where’s Randy?”

  “At the apartment. I think,” she admitted.

  Nothing else seemed injured. “Was he breathing when you left?” I gently placed her wrist back in her lap. It was broken.

  She slowly exhaled. “I don’t know.”

  I stood and crossed my arms, leaning on my desk. “But you think he’s dead?”

  “He didn’t really look like he was breathing.” Her voice was soft and breathy but the words were emotionally detached.

  “Did you kill him?”

  Her eyes met mine but her expression gave nothing away. “No.”

  “What’s your end game?” I wasn’t fucking around with this shit. If I was going to do anything beyond dumping her at the ER, I needed to know what I was getting myself into.

  “What do you mean?”

  I lost my patience. “Fuck, darlin’, c’mon. I don’t have time for this shit. You show up on my doorstep half beaten to death, sayin’ you didn’t know where else to go. That tells me two things. One, you’re in deep shit and two, you think I can help. So, I ask again, what’s your plan? And don’t tell me it’s to go back when he calms the fuck down. Dead or alive, you’re done with that worthless prick. I ain’t a fuckin’ battered women’s shelter you check in and out of.”

  “Randy told me you were a doctor in the Navy,” she said in that quiet voice that was beginning to make me wonder if she ever got pissed off.

  I sighed. “SARC, Marines.”

  “What?” />
  “Not a doctor. Trauma medic. Answer my question.”

  “I don’t want to go back there.” Nothing changed in her expression.

  I pushed off the desk, hoping like hell she was telling the truth. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Where?”

  “ER. X-rays. Your wrist’s broken and I want your cheek looked at. Not to mention the leg you’re favorin’ that you won’t tell me about.”

  “It doesn’t hurt as much as my wrist.”

  “Thank God for small favors. Up.” I held my hand out, gentleman that I am.

  She stared at my hand a moment.

  Then she reached for me and her entire story fell to shit.

  TALON (Uncompromising Series Book One) releases March 1st, 2016

  Turn the page for an excerpt from IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE, Book One in the Unchecked Series by Sybil Bartel, now available at all participating e-retailers.

  IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE

  By Sybil Bartel

  Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson offered Layna Blair a way out—her freedom, his rules, no questions asked.

  GLANCING OVER MY SHOULDER, I crossed the parking lot. I didn’t see them but that didn’t mean they weren’t close. They were always close, but I’d found a place where they wouldn’t follow me. One hour a week—when you had nothing, it was something.

  I breezed into the last pew and kneeled just long enough to cross myself. I wished the gesture still held some significance but I’d stopped believing three years ago. The thought of three years ago made the familiar panic surface. Sweaty palms, shortness of breath, heart clamoring to get out from under my ribs. They were all a precursor to the terror. I dug my nails into my palms, desperate to take my mind away from the past.

  Maybe tonight had been a bad idea. I should’ve stayed hidden in my apartment. Then I wouldn’t be here, studying the side exit, counting the steps, wondering if I slipped out the back how long it would take before they found me. Because they always found me. I wasn’t stupid enough to go far. I glanced at the exit again. No, tonight, I was going to be just stupid enough to give them something to do. I grabbed my purse and stood.