Havoc

by Angie Merriam

  Out of my window are rolling hills that seem to go on forever in the distance and the sun climbing over them, exhausted from battling the moon. The first rays explode, taking over the sky before raining upon the rest of the world. A small gasp escapes her like she doesn't believe it's real.

  “You will live to see many more sunrises.”

  Still whispering, she denies, “You can't promise that.”

  “A Marine is only as good as his word.” My eyes shift away from the view and over to her. She's looking at me desperate for reassurance. “And I'm a damn good Marine.”

  My warm hand slips around her before pulling her into my sweaty chest, the sweet smell of shampoo ticking my senses, poking at the cold blood I'm used to having pump through my veins, dramatically demanding it move—that I warm up. Immediately, her body tenses in reaction, almost as stiff as when I first made contact with her. Her breath hitches. I bite my bottom lip to hide my sadness. What do you expect, Clint?

  The moment stops as my bedroom door opens and Sir enters. My arms reluctantly slide down, releasing her. I turn my attention and greet him with a firm nod, “Sir.”

  “Marine.” His head nods at me and then at her, “Morning, Miss Haven Cartwright.”

  There's a flicker of joy in her eyes. “I'm–”

  “Yes,” he shifts his weight between his two feet. “Congratulations. There's a pile of paperwork for you to go over today. A few documents for you to sign. You were issued a new social security number, a new birth certificate, driver's license, bank account, and a high school diploma. You were also issued a new background to give when asked. Please comb through the details diligently. Clint, I expect you to keep on top of this. To see her through this.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  Adjusting his uniform, he nods once more, “If you two will excuse me, I have to be getting to work. I'll see you both for dinner.”

  And as quickly as Sir arrived, he's gone, leaving us alone once more. My eyes lower to her face, studying the faint bruise beside her left eyebrow, thin cut underneath her chin, the small freckle behind her right ear. It's like looking at a perfect piece of artwork. My hand adjusts the tags around her neck, needing the courage to make my next move. I place an airy kiss on her forehead, my lips quivering, betraying me. I can't even hold my lips still for that simple action.

  I step back, needing room to breathe, to grab hold of the havoc gearing up in my mind. “You need breakfast.”

  Nothing more is said as the two of us disappear down the stairs, the sound of designer heels clicking across the hardwood floor, a familiar face lighting up the kitchen as she places plastic tubs on the bar island.

  “Morning, Haven,” Mindy hums, removing the lid from the containers.

  Politely, she hums back, “Morning.”

  “Morning, Slugger.” Her attention pulls up to see me with my hand on Haven’s back. A motherly look sweeps across her face as she huffs, “For the love of all that is sweet and sacred, get your butt upstairs and wash away that funk before it stains my cashmere.”

  “I–”

  “Now.” She points back up to the stairs. I gesture toward Haven, and Mindy holds up a hand to close my mouth. “She will be fine. I'm going to feed her, clothe her.” She dangles two shopping bags at Haven. “And watch her read these pages of information my husband sent and your father delivered. Now go.”

  My eyes look down to Haven's, and for the first time, she doesn't look terrified to be left alone with someone else.

  “God, I can feel your sweat seeping through my pores over here.” Mindy shivers.

  I chuckle and open my mouth to tell Haven I won't be longer than necessary when I'm cut off.

  “Today, Slugger!”

  My shower is damn near a blur. The blaring heat wipes out the thoughts that are trying to turn in circles in my mind, leaving me a blank slate. Cleansed. System rebooted, even if it is temporary. I'm thankful.

  Buttoning the last two buttons on my dark blue shirt, I travel down the stairs two at a time just as Haven raises a small, thin, lacy, black pair of underwear in her hands. Impulsively, I whisper, “Wow.”

  Shit. That wasn't supposed to come out of my mouth.

  Quickly, Mindy pulls it away from her, slipping it back in a bag. “That wasn't for your eyes . . .” In a low mutter, where she doesn't think I can hear her, she finishes with, “yet.” Her voice chirps back up, “And what are you wowing anyway? I'm sure you've seen a pair of those a time or two in your life.”

  The accusation causes my jaw to start clenching, slightly irked. I recognize the throbbing coming from my temple. She's not wrong by any means. I've nailed enough women that the sight of panties shouldn't make me squirm, but Haven didn't know that. Haven't doesn't need to know that. She doesn't need to know that the guy who's trying to save her couldn't save himself. That the guy who was holding her last night had never done that for another female in his life.

  Mindy slips the bag over to Haven and raises up the other at me. “This bag is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “It's safe to assume that Haven has her own room, yes?”

  I shoot her a look, realizing I never even gave her the option of being that far away from me. She needs me close by. Last night proved it.

  Mindy tries to stifle what looks like pride on her face, “Hm. All right. These are a few things to spruce up her living quarters wherever that may be. We'll grab more, but for the time being, there are aroma therapy candles.”

  Confused I ask, “Aroma what?”

  “Scented oils.”

  “Why?”

  “Four hundred-thread-count Egyptian sheets.”

  “Why would you purchase sheets from Egypt?”

  Realizing she's confusing me, she stops. “Oh, dear. You're like a savage sometimes.”

  “A Marine, ma'am.”

  “I know. Simplicity is the faithful companion of a Marine.” She offers a faint smile at me. “However, domestication is the faithful companion of love. Now, eat some breakfast, Haven, so we can do some real shopping.”

  She points, “What about the–”

  “You can review the paperwork this afternoon,” she insists. “Now, skedaddle so we can get going.”

  I plop down on the stool beside Haven, the sweet smell of syrup mixing with the sweet smell of her. “Where are we going?”

  “We?” Mindy's perfectly thin eyebrows rise. “Oh, no, Slugger. No.”

  “With all do with respect, Mindy, I'm not letting her out of my sight.” I pick up a piece of bacon, my eyes challenging hers.

  Surprised, Mindy puts a hand on her hip, prepared to argue with me until she can't anymore. We've never argued about girls before. In fact, the only women she's occasionally seen me with are the ones I’ve happened to be trying to get rid of before the sun rises as she grabs the morning paper. And Le Le. The advice and conversation for both of them were always the same, no more than a “Please be safe” and a “Respect your home for what it is.” But Haven is different. I don't know how she knows, but she does, the way I imagine my mother would if she were still alive.

  Not letting Haven out of my sight isn't just about the fact I want her close to me, but I’m her ultimate protection. I help her feel safe. Yesterday, Haven was afraid when she heard the mailman come to the door. For a moment, she thought it was someone else more menacing. Taking her out in public seems risky. But she needs the exposure to feel free, to start to face her fears. On the off chance we go out and she's spotted, I need to be there. Defend her. Protect her. Bury the bastard on the spot.

  She growls, lifting her Starbucks cup back up to her lips, “God, Slugger, you're just like your father.” Unsure of what that means, I do my best not to glare. With a wave at me, she finishes, “Fine. But try to keep up?”

  Feeling victorious, I cock a half-crooked grin and slide another piece of bacon into my mouth. How hard could it be?

  Instinct is a big part of how I operate, not only on the field but off as well.
It's what has kept me alive when doing missions and kept me sane when operating in unfamiliar territory, but I learned today I have none when it comes to women. OK, so I wouldn't say none, but I am getting more clueless by the minute. Haven and I spent the day with Mindy at high-priced boutiques and expensive spas. I kept a close watch on the employees as they eyed Haven’s bruises, curiosity clear on their faces. With the help of my cold stares and Mindy's cash distractions, her usual stylists promised discretion, and no one mentioned anything out loud.

  The two of them get things done to them that make me wonder how exactly they don't get exhausted from just getting dressed in the morning. Thankfully, I spend the day observing and not speaking too much. I've always believed I had a good grasp on how the opposite sex functions, but after seeing what goes on behind the curtain, I'm not sure I do. Today was like being in enemy territory yet having no idea, no clue, how to survive without succumbing to their every request.

  Last night at dinner, Haven was given the short version of our little village's secrets. Once she got more comfortable, she asked several questions, but Sir didn't give many answers. He doesn't trust her. Facts say he has every right not to. The feelings inside of me are screaming mercilessly that he couldn't be further from the truth. That's the problem with instinct when it gets colored by emotions. Instinct is your natural will to survive, a deeper ability to read a situation before you get tossed in harm’s way or make the wrong choice. Emotions as part of that can rock your ship to the deep end, where you don't know left from right, up from down, or right from wrong. Up until yesterday, this was never a problem, but now, it's the biggest one I have.

  Finally, the mission to clothe Haven is complete, just in time too. Any more walking listening to Mindy talk about clashing colors and I would clash my head against a brick wall. She pulls into her driveway and releases me back to sanity.

  “Thanks again, Mindy,” Haven says, lively.

  “You're welcome, dear,” she says, killing the engine.

  “I mean it. Not just for the clothes and stuff but for everything. It was almost like being . . . normal.”

  Wow. Those words propel me out of the car to hold Haven's door open for her—another dose of normal, I hope. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a black sports car pulling into the driveway beside my home. Looks like Felix's hopeless offspring has arrived home too. My attention falls back to the task at hand, getting Haven’s things back to our place.

  “I'll be right back,” I say to Haven, taking her oversized shopping bags, which are a lot heavier than they look. “Wait here.”

  “Where else am I gonna go, Clint?”

  The way she hums my name out like that soothes me. In ways, it reminds me of better times in my life. It seems to seep through my pores and into my veins like some unexplainable drug meant to relax the body. It's crazy.

  My face smirks, and I shag ass across the street, leaving Haven in Mindy's driveway. Once in the house, I dump the bags upstairs in our room. She can rifle through them later while I lay in bed reading or, likely, just watching her. And by watching her, I mean in a non-creepy way.

  On my way back downstairs, Sir comes out of the guest bathroom, buckling his jeans, “Oh. Didn't know you were home,” he says.

  “Just got here, Sir.”

  “Where's Haven?”

  “Across the street with Mindy. We're bringing the shopping bags over.”

  “Mindy went a little insane, didn't she?” Sir guesses.

  “To put it mildly, Sir. Couldn't even stop her from buying me a few things.”

  Sir chuckles. “So I'm headed to Karen's in a few. She was wondering if we could have dinner over here with you tonight since she missed the big party yesterday.”

  Not now. I'm not in the mood for this now. “Can it wait?”

  He looks taken back by the statement, all pleasantness removed. “For how long?”

  “Couple of days?”

  “Look, Clint–”

  “This has nothing to do with not wanting you to move on with your romantic life, Sir.” I quickly shut down the notion he's conceived in his head. I never wanted him to be emotionally cut off from women the way he is. That was his choice. Part of me used to want it for him in hopes he'd ease up on coming down so hard on me. Eventually, I just stopped caring the same way I have about most things.

  “Then what?”

  “Sir, Haven just got settled last night. She went through a lot today. I just . . . I just want to ease her into our lives, and introducing complete strangers–”

  “Karen's not a complete stranger.”

  “To you,” I correct him. “No one has met her but you, Sir. So yes, for the time being, she’s a stranger, an outside danger.”

  “She's not a danger, Clint.”

  Feeling myself get heated, I adjust my body language back to respectful, “I understand, Sir, but Haven may not. Could we please postpone dinner for her sake?”

  Sir stares at me long and hard. His blue eyes, now tinted in gray, are always so uncompromising, yet he wonders where I get it from. He shrugs. “Fine. I'll call her and let her know. Couple of days.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  I turn to walk out when I hear his voice again, “You know, I understand what you're going through.”

  Confused, I turn cautiously around, “Excuse me, Sir?”

  “With Haven,” her name comes out of his mouth again. I grind my teeth. He shouldn't toss her name around like that. It's not his to be so frivolous with. “The way you're acting. The way you're protecting her. I know what that's like. I went through that with your mother.”

  The comparison gnaws at me on the inside, starting in my head and racing downward, blazing a path of rage and disgust. My fists ball up. I bite my tongue. I don't have time for an argument right now. I don't have time to stand here and tell him that he knows nothing about me, my life, Haven, or our situation.

  I swallow the knot in my throat, “With all due respect, Sir, please leave Mom's memories with Mom.” Sir raises his eyebrows. “Buried.”

  After I nod to dismiss myself, I exit through the front door, an all-too-familiar need to punch something coursing through my veins. Where's that sweet angel of mine’s voice when I need it?

  Back outside, I see Mindy and Haven have a visitor. The driver of the sports car has made his way over. My attention settles on Howard who, like the sleaze he is, settles his hand on Mindy’s car. Is he hitting on Haven? That sneaky, snarky sack of shit just can't help himself from leeching onto every female that crosses his path. No, he's not like Glove in the sense that Glove has morals, some standards—not high nor many but they are there. Howard's the kind of lowlife that, if he had a stepsister, he would sleep with her if she had a decent pair of tits. His name alone is usually enough to get my blood pressure raised to level of annoyance. I swear, if his mother wasn't a computer genius who just re-hardwired Haven’s a new life, he'd need a miracle from God himself to be saved from my wrath.

  I march hastily across the street, doing my best to keep calm. Keep rational. Stay focused, Grim. Ignore the adrenaline that's doing laps around your body. Howard’s hand reaches to touch my tags around her neck, gently grazing the tops of her boobs.

  At that moment, my mind goes blank. I twist the asshole's hand to an obvious position of pain behind his back, while I grab a fistful of his brown hair and slam his head against Mindy's Audi door. All 5' 11", 165 pounds of him whips around like rag doll.

  “If you ever touch her again, I'll make sure the only way you can drink is through a straw. Got it?” I bang his head again, his pale, white skin turning a bit red from the drops of blood I teased out. God, that felt good. “Got it?”

  Howard nods, and I tighten the grip, one twist away from breaking his damn arm off. How easy it would be with one little snap–

  “Clint!” a voice booms, yanking me out of the trance like state I slipped into. The voice sounds like a displeased commanding officer. The words are spoken slowly but powerfully. “L
et. Him. Go.”

  My body stiffens, my jaw now throbbing as is my temple. Shame rains down on me as I stand in disbelief that I just let that happen. How did I let that happen? I just told myself to stay calm. I've never lost control like that before. I know better than this.

  The Callaghan’s door slams. Mindy's voice squeaks as she rejoins the scene, seeing my handiwork, “Seriously? What could have possibly happened? I only stepped inside for a minute.”

  “Clint!” The strict voice booms again, leaving Mindy unanswered.

  I nod at him, “Sorry, Sir.”

  My eye contact fades off into a point in the distance, preparing for the ass chewing that has yet to commence. Out of my peripherals, I finally notice the look on Haven's face. She's frozen, muscles as still as the look on my face, the exception being her eyes. They dance among all of us. I expected her to look terrified, at least contemplative that my actions were harsh or too violent, frightening even, yet she looks at a certain ease. Maybe now she gets that I won't let anything happen to her. Maybe now she sees I'll drop anything that I feel threatens her in the slightest. I do my best to hide my pride. She has to see she can trust me.

  Sir says to Howard, “Shouldn't you be headed home, son?”

  “Yeah, Whiskey,” Howard's finger wipes away the spot of blood that's coming from his head. I want to smirk at the sight, pleased with myself. Yes, that may have been the wrong thing to do, but it felt so right, justified. “Nice to meet you, Haven.” His eyes shift to me, “Always a pleasure, Clint.”

  Sir says, “Thank you and Doug both, Mindy. For everything. I–”

  “Don't mention it,” humphs Mindy. “He's just like you, Whiskey.”

  “That's what I'm afraid of,” is his direct response before he heads back across the street.

  Just like Sir? That's what he's afraid of? Are they drunk? Did everyone put bourbon in their morning coffee instead of sugar? We are nothing alike. I may have cut off ties to everything that could possibly remind me I am human to make me a better solider, the ultimate Marine, but Sir . . . Sir abandoned his ability to give a fuck because he's a selfish asshole. He abandoned me when I needed him the most. I'm nothing like him. The fact Mindy of all people would even say that not once but twice makes my skin itch.