Bad Boy Soldier (The Bad Boy Series Book 3)

by S. E. Lund

  James drove me to my mom's house in Cambridge and I went inside, using my key to enter. When I got there, the house was quiet. I usually called before I came over but that afternoon I hadn't, hoping that Spencer would still be at work. When I walked into the cool dark interior, I was surprised at how quiet it was. The drapes were drawn and the lights were all off. I walked through the house, checking the living room first to see if she was on the sofa, but she wasn't so I went to her bedroom.

  Inside, she was lying on her side under the covers, her back to the door.

  "Mom?" I said softly, not wanting to wake her if she was deeply asleep.

  When she didn't answer, I went to the side of her bed and saw that her bottle of pills was open, next to a glass of water. The pills had spilled out onto the night table.

  Alarmed, I sat on the side of the bed and shook her, worried now that she may have taken too much. She didn’t respond.

  "Mom? Wake up," I said. She opened her eyes, blinking and my heart rate slowed a bit. She wasn't too drugged up if she was able to blink.

  "Sweetie," she said and tried to roll over, but she made a face and I had to help her. "I didn't know you were coming over. How nice to see you."

  "You spilled your pills," I said and picked up the few stray ones that were on the floor. "The bottle must have fallen over."

  "Oh, I'm sorry, dear," she said. "I'm so clumsy." She kept her eyes closed and lay on her back, a slight smile on her face. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you and Graham when I was away."

  "We missed you, Mom," I said and leaned over and kissed her. Then, I adjusted the blankets and glanced around. "Did you have lunch?"

  She didn’t open her eyes. "Lunch?" she said, dreamily. "What time is it?"

  "It's four," I said, frowning. "Didn't you have lunch yet?"

  "I don't remember," she replied. "I remember eating breakfast this morning. Is it really four o'clock? I needed some more pain pills and must have fallen asleep. Is Spencer here?"

  "I didn't see his car in the drive, but I didn't check the garage. I'll go see."

  I left my mom on the bed and went down the hall to the stairs, taking them to Spencer's basement room where he had his office. I knocked on the door and pushed it open, only to find Spencer hunched over a laptop, earphones in. When he saw me at the door, I could tell he was shocked and quickly closed the laptop.

  "Celia," he said, pulling the earbuds out. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you call first before you came over?"

  "Have you given my mom anything for lunch?"

  He made a face, his back straightening. "She wasn’t hungry," he replied and I could see the anger start. It started in his body, and then made its way to his face, his mouth turned down, his lips thin. "I know how to look after your mother."

  "Her pills were spilled onto the floor," I said, unable to keep the disgust from my voice. "She hasn't eaten since breakfast. Don't you know she has to eat when she takes those pills? You've been told enough times that she needs to keep her calories up."

  "Don't you talk to me like that," he said and came over to where I stood by the door. "This is my office. You shouldn't just come in without my permission. I have classified material here." He covered up some files on his desk.

  "Are you hiding something?" I said saucily, unable to hold myself back. "Surfing kiddie porn sites?"

  He slapped me, his move so fast I barely saw it coming.

  "You little bitch," he growled and then his hands went around my neck. I grabbed his hands, fighting with him, my anger now so great that I was not going to let him hurt me again. I kicked his shins and tried to elbow him but he was bigger and stronger.

  "Stop," I managed, despite how tightly he held my throat. "You're choking me."

  He said nothing, his face a mask of hatred.

  "Stop!" I screamed, and kept kicking him, my heart racing from adrenaline.

  "Spencer!" my mother said, and it was only her voice that stopped him from choking me to death. "What are you doing?"

  He let go of me immediately and I pulled away, my hands on my throat, coughing to get air.

  My mother leaned against the wall, and I knew it must have taken almost all her strength to come down the stairs. While I tried to recover, Spencer muscled past me and took her into his arms, one arm under hers for support.

  "Why were you two fighting? " she asked and started to slide down the wall. "Why can't the two of you get along?"

  I frowned. Did she not realize that Spencer was choking me?

  "Now look what you've done," Spencer growled at me. "You've upset your mother. Come, dear," he said to her, his voice all soft. "Let me help you back into bed. You must be hungry."

  "Why were you two fighting?" she asked again as he led her back up the stairs.

  "We weren't fighting, dear," Spencer said. "I was showing her some self-defense moves they teach all the new female recruits with the police department."

  "Liar!" I said and went to her side. "Mom, let me take you to Aunt Diane's place, You should stay with her."

  "Why would she want to do that?" Spencer said, frowning at me. "She's my wife. She stays with me."

  "I'll just stay here," my mother said when Spencer got her to her bed, her voice so tired she sounded as if she was going to fall asleep while she was still speaking. She rolled onto her side and that was it.

  "You're a monster," I said to Spencer when he left the bedroom. I followed him into the hallway. "I could charge you with assault.”

  "Go ahead and try," he replied. "I've told the police about you. How you steal from your mother. How you take her money and never visit. Who do you think they're going to believe, you or me?"

  "You bastard," I said, barely able to speak. I stormed out of the house, tears in my eyes, determined to talk to someone about my mother's safety.

  I couldn't go to Graham. He was still learning how to walk again and use his left hand to do things, because his right arm was in a cast. He couldn’t talk well because his jaw was wired.

  Would the cops really not believe me?

  When I got to the car, James was waiting by the door.

  "Are you all right?" he asked when he saw my tears.

  "Let's go," I said.

  He closed the door behind me and got inside, driving off. "Back to the warehouse?"

  I nodded, not able to speak.

  My life had fallen into pure shit.

  When we arrived back at the safe house, I practically ran into the building, taking the freight elevator up, hoping that Hunter wasn't there so I didn't have to talk to him. When I got to the top floor, I entered the hallway and then tried the door. It opened and George was standing there, waiting for me.

  "You all right, Celia?" he asked, his expression full of concern. He must have seen my face on the security cameras and knew I'd been crying.

  "Oh, I'm fine, George, really," I said, wiping my eyes and cheeks. "Just my bastard of a stepfather is all. Nothing I haven't dealt with a hundred times before." I forced a smile and tried to walk past him, but he stopped me.

  "Your neck," he said and pointed.

  I felt my neck, which was sore and realized I must have a bruise there from Spencer's hands. "It's nothing," I said, not wanting a fuss to be made. "I'm going to have a bath."

  "You sure?" George said. "Is big bruise. Did your stepfather do to you?"

  I nodded. "We had a fight," I said, and went to the washroom, waving George off. "Like a thousand others. I'm fine."

  I turned back to see George before I closed the door. He was frowning. "Really, George," I said, smiling once more even though I felt like crying. "I'm fine. Don't tell Hunter, whatever you do."

  He shook his head like he thought I was being foolish, but I didn’t need any fuss made. I would call my Aunt Diane and tell her I wanted my mom to have a day nurse or something to watch over her. She was too doped up. I was afraid she'd overdose. But first, I wanted to soak in the bath and recover from my run-in with Spencer.

  The monst
er.

  Chapter 7

  CELIA

  I soaked in the bath, enjoying the same scented bath salts I had used for Hunter's bath that night. He must have had them brought over from his apartment. I wondered whether he had done it to bother me or if he had really enjoyed the scent—and the bath itself.

  I didn't know what to think about Hunter.

  He seemed like he cared—some of the time—by showing concern for my welfare, protecting me, providing security for me. At the same time, the fact he was spying on me gave me a bad feeling, like he was tipping over into stalker territory. Yes, he was an expert in security, and I knew he provided security for the Romanov family, but still, it was creepy having him—or George—watching me 24/7, even if it somewhat comforted me to know they could respond immediately if anything threatened me.

  I guess I was just confused about how to feel.

  Most of all, I was confused about this relationship with Hunter. He'd sworn off trying to force me to pleasure him. I was glad, but once again, I was also somewhat disappointed. I still had a great deal of desire for Hunter. That wouldn't change, even if he did horrible things. He would still cause my body to respond with only a touch or a glance. But he wasn't the honorable man I’d known him to be.

  I finished my bath and got out of the tub. After brushing my hair out, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Red marks were clearly visible on my neck where Spencer had choked me. On my cheek where he slapped me. Would he have killed me if my mother hadn't stumbled down the stairs to find us? Or would I have been able to successfully fight him off? I’d managed to kick him a few good times while he was choking me, but it hadn’t seemed to faze him at all. He really was like a madman with his hands around my neck.

  I had to do something about it, and get my mother out of there. I had to call my Aunt Diane and ask her to help. Graham was unable to do anything. I didn’t want to talk to Hunter about it for fear he might go ballistic.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and went to the bedroom area to get ready for bed before Hunter returned—if he returned. I suspected he wouldn't, given his promise to stop demanding sex from me.

  Of course, while I was searching through my clothes, he marched into the apartment and went right over to where George was sitting in the corner office.

  Great. George was certain to tell Hunter about my injuries, such as they were.

  I grabbed my nightgown and robe and tried to rush back to the bathroom, but Hunter came over and stopped me before I could close the bathroom door.

  "Let me see," he said, taking hold of my arm and preventing me from slipping inside the bathroom. "What did that sonofabitch do to you?"

  I stopped and stood there, my clothes draped over my arm, a towel around my body, and let him examine me. There was no use fighting. Hunter was taller and stronger than me.

  "We got into an argument," I said. "I may have told him he was a fucking bastard."

  Hunter touched my neck, shaking his head slowly while he examined the marks Spencer left there.

  "That fucking bastard," he said, his voice low, menacing. "I'll kill him."

  "Don't do anything stupid, Hunter," I said, fearful that he'd rush out and beat Spencer up. As much as that might personally make me happy, I didn't want Hunter to get into trouble over what happened. "Remember who he is. He's the DA. No one is going to believe it. He told me he'd already talked trash about me to the police. They think I'm a thief who's stealing money from my mother."

  "He told you that?"

  I nodded, tears springing to my eyes now that I had time to process that fact. "Yes. Who do you think they'll believe—Spencer or me?"

  Then I covered my eyes with a hand and cried. I didn't care anymore that Hunter could see me crying like a baby. It hurt that Spencer hated me so much that he would lie about me like that.

  Why did Spencer's opinion of me still matter so much? He'd always been such a bastard to me… In the beginning, when he first started seeing my mother, he was so nice to us—to Graham and me. I had no idea what I did to change that, but once he moved in, after mom got back from the hospital, he changed.

  He started policing us like he was our own father. Our own father had just died and I was not willing to let Spencer order me around.

  Graham tried to get along with Spencer, but I would not let him tell me what to do. I spent a lot of time in time-out or grounded because I refused when he ordered me around.

  It had been years and years of anger and rebellion on my part.

  Hunter took me in his arms, holding me against his body while I cried. His tenderness made me cry even harder, for it was the first real affection anyone had shown me for a long time. In fact, it was the first time in months anyone other than Amy had hugged me.

  "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured, his face in my hair. He squeezed me more tightly and I let loose, crying harder than before. Finally, I began to regain control over myself, wiping my eyes and face with a hand.

  "I'm sorry." I tried to hide my face from him because I knew my eyes would be red and swollen. Even at that moment, I didn’t want Hunter to see me ugly-cry. I didn’t have much pride remaining, given my debt to him, but I had some.

  "Shh, shh," he whispered. "From the looks of those bruises, he could have killed you, Celia. He could have killed you."

  "He didn't," I said, thinking of how his hands had felt around my neck. "Luckily, my mother was awake enough to come downstairs to his lair and save me. But he threatened me. There's nothing I can do but try to get her out of there. I'm worried about her, Hunter. I'm afraid he might hurt her."

  "I don't blame you," he said softly. "We could put her into a safe house somewhere. Get her 24/7 nursing care."

  I glanced up at him finally, surprised that he offered. "You'd do that?"

  He shook his head. "Of course I would," he said, and I could hear the emotion in his voice. "She's your mother and Graham's mother. You two were my only friends for all those years…"

  Then he kissed me, the kiss tender. It surprised me, given his earlier declaration that he wouldn't touch me again and if anything was going to happen between us, it would be me asking, not him taking.

  I didn't kiss him back, but neither did I pull away. Finally, he broke the kiss and wiped tears off my cheeks with a thumb.

  "Will you be okay?" he asked. "I have to go somewhere. Take care of some business. George will be here with you."

  "I'll be fine," I said and forced a smile. Then, I frowned, wondering what business he had to take care of at that time of night. "Where are you going?"

  Hunter turned to me when he got to the door. "I've got some business, that's all. Don't worry about me. George," he said and turned to George. "Can I speak with you downstairs?"

  George nodded and gave me a smile. "I be right back, Celia."

  I nodded and watched as the two of them left the apartment, for another floor. I hadn’t yet had a chance to explore the building and so I had no idea what else was in the building, but I assumed Hunter owned the entire place.

  I went to the bathroom and changed, then crawled into my bed to nurse my wounds. I lay in the late afternoon dimness, the only light coming from the monitors in George's office space and a hanging light over the island in the kitchen.

  I wondered what Hunter was doing and where he was going, but I had been so upset over what happened to me and how Spencer treated me that I quickly fell asleep.

  Chapter 8

  HUNTER

  "I'm going to kill the bastard."

  George gave me a look of exasperation and shook his head. "I know you want, but would not be best thing. How can you help Celia if you are in jail? Think for moment. What can you do to keep her safe and get him justice?"

  I paced the empty warehouse floor and considered. "I'll talk to my handler in the FBI, and see what they have for evidence. What I saw in Alexandria should count for something. Even if he wasn't directly involved, the fact that he still owns that building should mean he gets charged with
owning a business that was used for child prostitution or something. Plus, there's the tapes. That's evidence of, at a minimum, production of child pornography. My handler will know."

  George nodded, apparently satisfied that I wasn’t going to go off half-cocked and kill Spencer in a rage. My blood was much cooler after talking to George. But I would go to Spencer and deliver a beating. I would punch him in the face and make him regret that he hurt Celia earlier that night.

  No one could blame me for that. I had pretty much carte blanche in terms of rules of engagement with the enemy—my handler in the FBI said as much. I could do what I needed to fit in with the Romanovs and they'd only make a show of punishing me if I got caught.

  I accepted that risk. I was willing to sacrifice my life for my fellow Marines if needed over in Iraq and Afghanistan. I figured stopping Spencer and his fellow worms would be worth the risk. I'd do what had to be done for the greater good, even if it meant I spent some time in solitary confinement to make it look like I was a real thug.

  "You go back upstairs," I said to George.

  "Where you going?"

  "I'm going over there to punch his face in," I replied. "He deserves at least that much attention from me, even if I can't kill him outright."

  "That could be dangerous, Hunter," George said and I could hear in his voice that he didn’t like the idea. "Don't lose control."

  "I won't. He's a worm. He'll crumple at the first blow, believe me. I know his type."

  I went to the stairwell to take the stairs to the street. "Watch out for Celia. If anyone shows up at the warehouse for any reason, don't let them in without contacting me first."

  "Who you think would come here? Who knows about?" George asked, frowning.

  "No one," I said. "Just the crew and my handler."

  "Okay," George said and nodded. "I watch Celia. She was very upset. You should come back, not leave her alone for whole night."

  "I'll be back."

  I arrived at the house where Celia's mother and Spencer lived, parking a half block away and walking quietly up to the house and around the back to what I expected would be a rear entrance. I was right—there was a sliding screen door leading off to a patio. The yard was fenced, and I expected that if Spencer decided to run, I could catch him before he was able to get out the back gate. I checked out the fence, to see any other escape routes, and then I went back around to the front door and rang the doorbell.