by Maggie Ryan
“Um… I told you what it said…”
About to repeat my request, I heard another voice.
“Who are you talking to so late, Steph?”
The conversation became muffled, as if she’d put the phone against her body, but I could still make it out.
“It’s Hannah’s husband. I think she went to Rocky’s.”
“Didn’t she know you changed your plans?”
I heard her saying something about how she didn’t call Hannah because she wasn’t going to come, but she didn’t want me to hear her voice message as it might make me mad.
Mad? I was about to have a fucking heart attack. I wanted to reach through the phone and grab Stephanie’s and listen to the message instead of listening to her talk to who I now recognized as Gary. Instead, I was a nanosecond from hanging up when I heard Gary’s tone change to one that I recognized. One that brooked no nonsense.
“Give me the phone, Steph.”
“No! I mean, I promised Hannah to keep it a secret!”
“I don’t give a shit what you promised her. She’s missing, Stephanie. That trumps all secrets.”
A second later, I heard Gary, this time much clearer. “Brett, this is Gary. I’m going to replay the message.”
“Thanks,” I managed, and then listened as my wife left a message that had my jaw clenching. How could she have possibly thought I’d ditched her? And her statement about being ‘dressed to kill and ready to party’ had my blood boiling. The only man who had the right to see her dressed to kill was me… her husband. But her final statement about ‘buy me that drink or a dozen’ had my heart threatening to stop. Hannah was not a drinker. Well, she drank, but more than one margarita would put her under the table. That’s why she’d only had a single drink on our anniversary. Now she was talking about downing a dozen and she had driven there by herself? How the hell had she expected to drive home?
Once it ended, Gary’s voice returned. “I’m going to come pick you up.”
“No…”
“Hey, man, if it was Stephanie missing, I’d be nuts. You don’t need to kill yourself racing to Rocky’s and you might need backup. I’m only a couple of minutes away, and I’m already out the door.”
“Fine, but if you’re not here in two, I’m going.” He didn’t answer, evidently already having hung up. I yanked off my uniform, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, and was waiting at the end of the driveway when his truck pulled up.
As he drove, I tried to call Rocky’s for the fifth time. “Shit!” I said when it rang and rang. “What sort of business doesn’t answer the fucking phone?”
Gary shot me a glance. “One who gets sick of wives looking for deadbeat husbands?”
“What do you know about this place?”
“It’s not as bad as some places I’ve been in, but it’s not the officer’s club either. I’d never allow Stephanie to go if I wasn’t going with her. Hell, Keith didn’t even want the girls to come but his sister wanted to support his band.”
I knew Dawson was a lieutenant, but he wasn’t under my command. Still, I knew him and knew his mind wasn’t on his band… not after the news we’d gotten tonight. I also knew that Gary couldn’t have gotten home long before I had.
“I’m sorry about your men,” I said.
“Yeah, me too.”
We’d both been at the emergency meeting and didn’t need to say more. Unfortunately, we had both lost friends in the war, but it never got easier. All we could do was honor those who sacrificed their lives for their country and be thankful for the ones who came home.
Pulling into the lot had me a bit stunned. “Is it always this crowded?”
Gary shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe they all came to listen to Dawson’s band and didn’t know he’s not playing, or maybe it’s because it’s pay day, or ladies’ night.”
All true and did it really matter? I was searching for Hannah’s car but didn’t see it. Maybe she’d already headed home? Gary flipped on his high beams to navigate through the haphazardly parked cars and I saw that vehicles had spilled out onto the grass. Finally, I saw the one I was looking for. She was still here.
“There it is,” I said, pointing.
Gary pulled onto the grass as well, and I was out of the truck before it rolled to a stop and almost at the entrance when he caught up. Yanking open the door, I was hit by a wall of noise and a cloud of smoke. From the number of cars, I’d known the club would be crowded, but it was as if every car had disgorged a half dozen clubbers. It was wall to wall people. My head swiveled even though I couldn’t yet see clearly. Lights flashed to the beat of some heavy metallic music and the slightly sweet odor told me that it wasn’t only tobacco being smoked. The only thing in my favor was that the haircuts of several men I saw told me that a lot of the customers were military. Evidently news of Dawson’s band had spread though the information of his cancellation obviously hadn’t.
“How about we split up?” Gary shouted, which was the only way to converse.
I nodded and pointed to the left then back at the door, telling him to go left and then meet back where were started. About to ask if he knew what my wife looked like, I realized he must as he immediately started pushing through the crowd. Going right, I began my own search.
I’d not gone ten feet before I recognized someone. Tapping him on the shoulder, the man turned, his eyes going a bit wide even as his hand started to lift.
“No need to salute, soldier,” I said. God, I hated having to shout just to talk, but raised my voice higher when he leaned forward, his hand moving to cup his ear. “Jackson, right?”
“Right, sir.”
Pulling out my phone, I scrolled to a photo I’d taken just yesterday. It was of Hannah with a huge smile on her face. I’d caught her talking to the plants and then slapping at the stem of a tomato plant.
“What are you doing?” I’d asked then grinned. “Hannah Griffith, are you spanking the tomatoes?”
She’d giggled and nodded. “Yes. I read that if you spank the stems, it encourages the pollen to release.”
I’d pulled out my phone and snapped a photo when she gently cupped a group of yellow blossoms.
Holding the phone out, I shouted, “Have you seen my wife?”
Jackson looked and then shook his head. I didn’t bother to thank him, just kept moving. I’d completed a circuit of the outside of the crowd without seeing her. I went down the hall to where a dozen women were lined up outside the bathroom. It was only slightly quieter here. The thumping bass made the very floor vibrate. I showed several women the photo, all who shook their heads, a few giving a look that said they wouldn’t admit to seeing her if they had. I was all for women supporting each other, but not when it put one of them in danger. When a woman I recognized as someone who’d been at my house earlier that week stepped out of the bathroom, I moved to the head of the line.
“Nancy?”
“Major? What are you doing here?”
“Looking for Hannah. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, we were about to leave, but had to make a pit stop. This place is nuts tonight.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Oh, at the bar,” she said, pointing back down the hall.
Nodding, I began to turn and then paused. “You’re okay to drive?”
“Yes. I’m the designated driver tonight.” Two other women came out of the bathroom and joined us.
Satisfied that they’d get home safely, I returned to the club, heading straight for the bar. It was three deep, and if Hannah, who was already petite, was at the front, it would be hard to spot her. It wound up that I didn’t have to push through the crowd because I heard a high-pitched cry. Whipping around, I saw red, and it had nothing to do with the color of the dress that Hannah was wearing and everything to do with the asshole who had his hand cupped around my wife’s breast.
I had no idea how I got to her, but the moment I did, I grabbed the guy’s arm. “Get your fucking hand off her.”
“Find your own bitch,” the guy said. “This one owes me…”
He never had a chance to finish because I planted my fist in his face. He grunted, bent over, and though he released Hannah, he also pulled a knife from his boot.
“Brett!” Hannah screamed but I’d already seen the glint of the blade. The guy swiped a hand across his lip, flinging away the blood that flowed from his nose. I grabbed for Hannah to pull her behind me, but the bastard made his own grab.
“I told you, she’s mine,” he sneered, putting the knife to her neck. I froze, my entire body going cold.
“Let her go,” I said, releasing her arm so as not to have that knife accidentally cut her.
“You broke my fucking nose,” he said, one arm wrapped around Hannah’s waist.
“Fuck your nose,” I said. “If you don’t let my wife go, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“You and who else,” he laughed, waving the knife in the air.
That was all I needed. A kick to his wrist had the knife flying out of his hand and another had him on the floor. I hauled him up by his shirt, pulling my arm back, ready to send him to hell.
“Brett, don’t!”
Hannah pulled on my arm. “He’s not worth it. Please… God, please just take me home.”
I noticed Gary, Jackson, and men I saw daily circling us, every single one looking as if they were ready to jump in and help. I also saw my wife, her eyes wide and could feel her body shaking. Dropping the guy to the floor, ignoring his grunt, I pulled her to me. Gary took point as I scooped her up and the rest fell in behind, forming a phalanx that moved straight to the door. Once outside, not a soul broke out of formation until we’d reached the car. It was only then I realized that Hannah didn’t have her purse as I had to shift her a bit in order to dig for my keys.
By the time I had her settled in the passenger seat, the seatbelt around her, Nancy and the other women had joined us.
“It was at the bar,” Nancy said, handing me the purse.
“Thanks,” I said, tossing it into the backseat. Closing Hannah’s door, I looked around. “Thanks to all of you.”
The men nodded; that was all, but it was enough. Nancy followed me to the driver’s side.
“I don’t want you to think she enticed that shithead. She was with us and was about to leave but was afraid to leave alone. She was waiting for us to walk out with her. That guy kept bugging her… wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“We shouldn’t have left her,” one of the other women said.
“It’s not your fault,” I assured her, grateful to hear that my wife had not willingly gone with another man. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
Nancy smiled. “You men aren’t the only ones who have their code. Army wives do as well.”
Nodding, suddenly very grateful for women’s solidarity, I opened my door after Gary assured me he’d walk Nancy and the other two women to Nancy’s car.
“Thanks,” I said, extending my hand.
“No problem,” he replied, and stepped back as I joined my wife.
Chapter Eleven
Hannah
“I’m so sorry,” I said after Brett had backed the car over the curb. His jaw was clenched as were his fingers on the wheel, but what scared me the most was that he only nodded. I knew he was furious, and understood, but it still hurt that he didn’t speak.
“I don’t blame you for being mad,” I said softly.
“Hannah, I’m not mad. I passed mad the moment I saw that bastard’s hand on you.”
I couldn’t help but shudder; the feel of that hand, the smell of his breath, the look in his eyes as he snarled that he’d show me what happened to cockteasers, washed over me.
“I-I didn’t want him to touch me,” I said.
He finally looked over. “I know.” And though he didn’t say another word, I understood that if I hadn’t gone in the first place, I wouldn’t have been mauled by a guy high on some drug. I wouldn’t have put my husband in a position to possibly be hurt or arrested for beating or possibly killing a man. Guilt flooded through me, but I had no idea how to make it up to him. We made the rest of the drive in silence.
Once we entered the house, I waited for him to order me to stand ‘at ease’, but he simply continued to lead me through the house with his hand on the small of my back. He didn’t stop until we were in the bathroom. After turning on the shower, he took the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head, tossing it not on the floor, but in the trash. Peeling down my panties, he threw them away as well. Stripping himself, he pulled me into the shower.
“What about—”
“I can’t think, can’t talk until I know that his touch is washed off you,” Brett cut in to say.
We’d shared baths and showers and they’d all involved intimate touches, slow drags of fingers over skin, caresses that meant to arouse as well as cleanse. This was not one of those. Brett poured body wash onto a cloth, and I could feel tears welling at the sight of his hand actually trembling as he reached toward my breast. I didn’t say a word as he scrubbed far harder than necessary. Hell, it wasn’t hard enough as far as I was concerned. He didn’t linger, moving the cloth to wash the rest of me before adding more soap to wash himself. I reached for the shampoo and scrubbed my hair, which I knew had to reek of smoke. Closing my eyes against the tears that threatened to spill and the water that sluiced over my head, I rinsed for a long time. When I opened them, it was to see that Brett was already out of the shower, pulling on a pair of sweats over a body that he hadn’t taken the time to dry.
I shut off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. Wrapping it around me, I took another and began to rub it against my hair.
“What… what do you want me to do?” I finally asked.
Shaking his head, he said, “All that matters is that you are okay.”
Okay? I wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. But it had nothing to do with the bar or the man I’d never seen before. It had everything to do with the fact that the few words we’d shared really meant nothing. It had to do with the fact that though we stood only inches apart, it felt like we were on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon. Before I could speak, he handed me my comb.
“Dry your hair and go to bed.”
“What about… I mean aren’t you going to—”
His head shook again. “I can’t. Not now.”
I’d never before heard him sound like he did right now. It was as if every word had cost him, and when I nodded and lifted the comb, he turned and left the bathroom. I heard the bedroom door close and knew he’d left the room. Was he leaving the house as well? Leaving me? Tears slid down my cheeks and then I angrily brushed them away. I didn’t deserve the release of tears. I’d been a fool. I’d gotten mad like some child and had basically thrown a tantrum. No, I hadn’t done anything to encourage that man, but I’d purposely dressed as sexily as I could, had applied more makeup than I usually did, sprayed myself with perfume, and had left my house knowing my husband had never once thought he’d return home to find me gone.
No, I deserved every stab of guilt, and no amount of tears, no amount of scrubbing with a cloth would ever erase the look in my husband’s eyes as he’d left. I dried my hair and picked up his t-shirt that I discarded earlier and then folded it and put it back in his drawer. I didn’t deserve to feel as if he was surrounding me. Putting away the other clothes I’d left scattered, I pulled on a nightgown and was at the edge of the bed when I paused. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was almost two in the morning. I still didn’t crawl into bed… I knew I couldn’t, not without Brett beside me.
Ripping off my gown and sliding off my panties, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and took a deep breath. Opening the door, I went to wait.
The sound of fists hitting a bag told me where he was as I passed the bedroom we’d turned into a workout room. My husband hadn’t left me… not really. He’d managed not to beat the man more than required to take him down, but from the sounds and his grunts,
I knew he was beating the shit out of the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling in the other room.
Moving to the same spot I’d fought against standing in a week before, I put my arms behind my back, spread my feet apart, and lifted my eyes. I desperately needed to see the smile on Brett’s face in our wedding photo. I had no idea what would happen when Brett opened that door, but I was praying that when he saw me, he’d not turn away. I had been so grateful when my husband had saved me, but now… now I needed my daddy to forgive me.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually I heard the door open, and still I didn’t move. A few minutes later, I heard his footsteps coming up the hall.
“Hannah? What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.”
“It’s late. Come to bed.”
I shook my head.
Finally, he walked around to stand in front of me. “Hannah, it’s almost three o’clock. It’s Saturday.”
“I don’t care,” I said, not releasing position. “It’s still Friday somewhere, and I’m not moving until I can crawl over your lap.” When he didn’t speak, I continued. “I know you’re furious; I know I caused all this, but I’m hoping that you meant what you said.”
“What I said?”
“Yes. You said that you were committed to us. You said you were dedicated to our new start and that included maintenance nights. Well, sir, I need to know if you still are or if I’ve gone too far for you to forgive me.”
“Honey, I’m not mad at you… not really. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t, but I’m not anymore. You scared the shit out of me when I didn’t know where you were. When I saw that bastard put a knife to your neck, my heart stopped. If he’d hurt you, I’d have killed him. God, I love you and could have lost you. Don’t you realize that I wouldn’t want to live without you?”
I felt tears welling again but blinked them away. Lifting my head in order to look up at him, I said, “But you didn’t lose me, so I need you to prove it.”
“Prove it?”
