by A. Gorman
I’m writhing in agony. I’d passed out on the battlefield and awoken in the chopper – and had apparently been making everyone’s life a living hell since. I keep trying to tell myself to grit my teeth and bear it but I’ve never felt such pain. I’d welcome them chopping my leg off at this point if it would make the pain stop.
“It’s okay,” the doctor replies to Anderson. He looks to be in his early 50s. He wore scrubs the same color as his wise, golden eyes. The name embroidered on his scrubs top tells me he’s Navy – the highest-ranking you could go. I really wanted to care, to be respectful, but I just couldn’t muster up enough fucks to give.
“Could you cut the small talk and do something about this?” I grit out, pointing to the large piece of metal that had shredded my now bloody camo pants and was protruding from my thigh.
“Absolutely,” the doctor replies with a smile. The last thing I see is a large needle coming at my arm, and then there is nothing but the blessed blackness.
The smell of coffee woke me and I blinked a few times, wondering where I was. I had a crick in my neck that made me groan, and when I saw the red furniture and fancy rug covering the hardwood floors, I remembered where I was. Instinctively, I reached for my gun under the pillow. I breathed a little easier when my hand closed around my piece.
Stretching my neck out, my head swiveled until I caught sight of the vic. She was in the kitchen with her back to me, pouring coffee into two ceramic mugs. She had on a pair of jeans that left nothing to the imagination and some sort of pink shirt. She was also barefoot. Probably a rule in this museum she calls a condo.
She turned around and carried both mugs over to me, carefully setting one on the fancy glass end-table near my feet. She then sat on the red chair and crossed her legs all girl-like.
I eyed the cup and my stomach rumbled. I needed to eat but coffee was a good start. I picked up the mug and it felt good between my cold hands.
Taking a speculative sip, I watched as steam curled up from her mug as she brought it to her plump, pink lips. She said nothing, just watched me with her legs crossed.
“I think we got off to a bad start yesterday,” she finally said.
Eyeing her but saying nothing, I continued to hold the hot mug in my hand as I stared at her.
Rayanne cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to be rude when you first came in, I just didn’t expect you to come in with guns blazing like that.”
I took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and bitter, just the way I liked it. I had no response for what she’d said, so I got up and tossed the blanket back onto the couch.
“We’re leaving in 30 minutes, so be sure you’re packed,” I said, heading toward the bathroom with my coffee to shower and drain the main vein.
I smiled when I heard her sigh in exasperation.
After my shower, I got dressed in the bathroom and picked up my phone when it chirped.
Jack-N-Jill: You on the road yet, big guy?
I shook my head. This whole Cloak-And-Dagger bullshit was already on my nerves. I didn’t know why they couldn’t tell me which agent was in charge of texting me. They said it was for all of our safety, and that the computer they used to send the texts was highly encrypted and untraceable. I knew all the special agents and investigative research specialists that worked in the “bat cave”, as we called it, where all the super-secret computers were, but I had no idea if it was any of them sending the messages.
I replied: Will be in 10. I’ll text when we get to our first stop.
Jack-N-Jill: Very good.
I packed up my toothbrush, comb, and razor after I was done with them, along with yesterday’s clothes I’d slept in, and shoved them into my bag. As I exited the bathroom, Rayanne was waiting by the front door wearing some slip-on shoes and had a light jacket draped over her arm. One large suitcase sat at her feet and she had a small purse slung over her slender shoulder. She stared at me with a blank expression and I bit back a smile. She was waiting by the door like a good girl.
This one catches on quickly.
I moved past her, grabbed her suitcase, and opened the front door and looked both ways down her hallway with my gun drawn. I saw the coast was clear so I went into the hall. She followed behind me, and I turned around and said, “Lock the door.”
She nodded and did as she was told. We used a side emergency exit that led to the back of the massive condo complex. I disarmed the little sports car. It didn’t seem to have much of a trunk, but thankfully her little red suitcase and my camo duffel fit fine back there.
She stood by the car, still staring at me with that blank expression. I used my key to point at the passenger door, already annoyed. “What are you waiting for? Get in. We have a long drive.”
Looking a bit offended but saying nothing, she slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I knew the FBI would make me leave my cell at the vic’s house, so I’d printed out specific instructions from my work computer before I’d left. This whole paper map thing was gonna suck ass. I was beyond spoiled with technology.
Remind me never to slam a suspect’s face into the pavement again. This whole Witness Protection detail was for the motherfuckin’ birds. I’d be glad when this was over.
The map told me I had to cross over the bridge again to reach the interstate, so I headed toward it. The view was just as breathtaking as it was yesterday, and I put my sunglasses on to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun’s rays on the water. I glanced briefly over at the vic, and she also had her sunglasses on, her hand up to her pouty lips as she stared out the window. She looked deep in thought, and I looked away. I’d been kind of a dick to her, but she’d rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I met her. Was that her fault? Maybe. I guess if I had a hit out on me I might be a little jumpy and testy too. Plus, she was way too easy on the eyes, from her blonde head to her red painted toenails. Not cool. I didn’t need that type of distraction.
I found the freeway entrance easily enough, and once the little car was cruising along at the speed limit, I set the cruise control to ease the pain in my leg. I quickly flipped on the radio to fill the deafening silence. Some sort of classic rock station was playing and Rayanne looked at the radio, then at me. Before I could ask her what she wanted to listen to, her head turned back to face the window and she continued to gaze out of it.
“You can listen to whatever you want. The quiet makes me crazy so I just needed to find something,” I said, not sure why I felt the need to justify my actions.
She glanced at me again and said, “It’s fine, Duke. I don’t care what we listen to.”
I could immediately tell that was a lie. She probably hated the radio station I’d chosen, and if she wanted to lie, well then she could deal with it. I leaned over and turned it up louder.
Once again glancing at the radio, she then looked at me through her sunglasses. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
I threw her a smirk and ran my hand over my beard. “I can’t tell you that, Blondie. Top secret and all that.”
“I see,” she replied. She then quickly snatched the paper from my lap and studied it. “Pembroke, Virginia? Seriously?”
I grabbed it out of her hand, more pissed off at myself than her for not keeping the paper in my pocket. “I’m gonna have to take your cell phone now that you know where we’re headed.” I held out my hand, but she didn’t move.
Instead, she scoffed and continued to look out the window. “There’s no data on my phone, and as you can see, I’m not texting or calling anyone, so maybe you should calm the hell down and stop acting so cryptic, Cowboy. Besides, it’s in the trunk.”
Who does this chick think she is? Does she have no regard for her life? Doesn’t she know I’m supposed to be protecting her? She’s acting like I’m some sort of intrusion in her life, like she didn’t ask for this detail.
As the small car headed toward the interstate and began cruising at a comfortable but boring speed, I though
t – maybe she hadn’t asked for this. Maybe she didn’t want this. But why not? Yes, it’s an intrusion, but if the government hadn’t intervened, she might already be dead by now. Dead. That’s not an option. Glancing at her though the corner of my eye, her face gazing out of her window, I grew frustrated that I couldn’t get a good read on her.
Just talk to her, you dumbass, my subconscious barked at me.
Go fuck yourself, the logical part of my brain rebutted.
Shaking my head at the ridiculous internal battle, I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out my can of chew. With one hand on the steering wheel, I shoved a big pinch of the snuff into my bottom lip and smiled as the nicotine did its job to quell my twitchy withdrawal.
Chapter 8
Rayanne
My teeth ground together as I stared out the window. Breathing in deep and then blowing it out without trying to sound like a drama queen, I watched the landscape pass in a blur. Ten days, Rayanne. Ten days to endure this asshole and this inconvenience and disruption of your life, and you can go back to it. I’ll testify against the Watsons and then have a life again. I’ll just try to ignore this Neanderthal who’s been sent to babysit me. He’ll be gone as soon as the trial was over.
I chanced a glance at him as I thought about his gruff attitude. His right hand was on his thigh and when I looked closer, I could see him gently massaging the area. I found this strange, and I became a little bit curious about him. My eyes traveled up to his belt where a black T-shirt hugged his flat stomach. The shirt’s arm holes were stretched against his massive arms, the material looking like it might rip under the strain. His neck was also muscular, his Adam’s apple the prominent prelude that led to a strong jaw covered in that dark, sexy beard. I’m not a big fan of beards but it was just clean enough to where I found my fingers twitching, wondering what it would feel like beneath my fingertips. His cheekbones were strong and led to untrusting eyes that cautiously watched the road. I sort of felt like asking him a question so he’d look at me and I could see into his eyes again, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to. I wanted to laugh at my own ridiculousness.
A few more minutes passed, and suddenly he spoke, that infuriatingly low, smoky voice permeating the car. “Why don’t you tell me about how you got yourself into this predicament.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather, a demand.
Feeling offended but not sure I really should be, I huffed and said, “I didn’t do anything. I went to work and came home every day. Collected a paycheck and did what my bosses wanted. I didn’t ask for any of this.” I hadn’t bothered to move my face away from the window, even though I had wanted to.
Duke chuckled. “Okay, Blondie. Let me rephrase. Why do you think you’re under the government’s protection right now?”
What the hell kind of question was that? Did he not know? I answered, sarcasm dripping all over my tone. “What? You don’t know? Someone’s trying to kill me.”
He shot back quickly. “You mean, someone has allegedly been hired to kill you. There is a huge difference. You know that, right?”
I let his words sink in and realized the bastard was sort of right. “Okay, you have a point. So why are you here, then?”
Taking a brown and white paper cup from the cup holder, he spewed some brown chew into it, and I wrinkled my nose. “Just in case that coward makes good on his death threat, sweetheart.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You gonna take a bullet for me?”
“That’s what the government pays me to do,” he replied dryly.
Snorting, I replied, “Nobody could pay me enough to take a bullet for someone else.”
Throwing me a sideways glance, Duke smirked. “Might break a nail?”
“Very funny. I just don’t understand how you do that job.”
He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the mundane landscape as it blurred past. “Special Agent with the FBI is a badass job. Don’t discredit it. I love my fuckin’ job.”
“You willing to die for your ‘job’?” I asked my arms folded over my chest.
“Yes. It’s no different than the military, really. I’ve belonged to the government since I was eighteen years old. It’s all I know.”
Wow. Freaking really? Has this guy ever had any fun?
His hand was still on his thigh so I asked “What’s wrong with your leg? Cramp?”
Without looking at me, he grunted, “Something like that.”
I huffed and gave up having a conversation with this guy.
But then he spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You asked how I got myself into this predicament, and I answered by telling you that I didn’t.”
He reached over and turned the A/C up higher, and that annoyed me. Not only had he not asked if I was comfortable with the temperature, I was already getting cold from having it up so high. How could he still be hot? Was this guy a werewolf? I shivered and caught him looking at me from the corner of his eye.
“Well, do you remember what you could have done at their company that got them indicted on some very serious charges?”
I stared at him in horror. “What are you implying? That I did something illegal to get them in trouble? Because I didn’t.”
He chuckled, and it was deep and rumbly. I was pissed off at myself at how sexy it sounded in my ears. “No, because if you had, you’d be indicted right along with them. I just mean, what kind of shady financial business practices were they involved in?”
I felt tears build behind my eyes but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. His question had hit a nerve because it was the same question I had asked myself no less than a thousand times since this nightmare started. “I don’t know,” was the only thing I could muster up, and then I turned my head back to face the window.
He never responded after that, and silence filled the car for hours. I remembered I had a paperback in my purse and I pulled it out, attempting to get lost in some historical romance that hopefully had a happier ending than the horror story I currently found myself in.
* * *
After what seemed like forever, we finally reached the small town in Virginia. We'd nearly gotten lost twice from having to use a paper map. The small road we turned on was so tiny and dark, I could easily see how it might get missed. Nighttime blanketed the clear country sky, a smattering of stars overhead and a half moon the only thing illuminating our path. The tires of the small car crunched and bumped over a gravel road until the headlights of our sports car illuminated a small gray house at the end of the path. My eyes traveled up to its worn-looking roof and down to the chipped paint that once coated the entire thing. The wrap-around porch did not look safe to step on, and its yellowed and cloudy windows definitely looked in need of replacement. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of it.
The road leading to it had been lined with large oak trees, and the house was no different. Large, gnarly branches reached out and seemed to want to possess the house. I suppressed a shudder and stared at the tiny dwelling.
“We’re staying here?”
Nodding, Duke put the car in gear but left it running. I watched curiously as he pulled a handgun from an ankle holster under his jeans I didn’t know was there. As he checked it for bullets, he said, “Stay in the car.”
I wanted nothing more than to get out and stretch my legs, but I’d learned over the past 12 hours to not argue with the guy. I mean, I wanted to argue because he was just a big asshole, but I was too tired. Plus he’d sounded a little stressed as he said it.
With the headlights still illuminating the small house, I watched as he stealthily walked up the three front porch steps and made his way to the front door. He checked the knob and then pulled a key from his pocket.
Duke entered quickly and was out just as fast. His eyes locked on mine as he left the house and a look passed over his face that I could only describe as relief. He made his way to the trunk and pulled out our bags, closed it, then went to the driver’s side to turn the
engine off. As he was doing this, he grunted, “You can get out now. Go inside the house.”
I wanted to salute him and say, “Yes, sir,” but he didn’t seem as though he wanted to be messed with. He locked the car and sort of ushered me into the house, closing and locking the door behind us before he flipped on the lights, and typed numbers into a small keypad set next to the door I assumed was a home security system.
Holy mother of crap. If I thought the outside was bad, the inside was just… scary. Even though the furniture was covered in white sheets, and everything was relatively clean, I could see that nothing in this house was from this century. The carpet was multicolored gold and green, and lifting my eyes to the doorway that led to the kitchen was a huge mistake. Suddenly, I was in an episode of The Brady Bunch. Oh, my God… 70s décor everywhere.
I turned to say something smart to Duke and saw he was looking at a small hallway off behind the kitchen. He went and made his way toward it, and I followed. I gasped in horror to see two bedrooms, both with sheets covering the furniture.
“Pick a room, princess.” Was all he said.
One room had a double-sized bed and the other had a king… or maybe it was a queen. Being the nice person I am, I chose the double because Duke was, well, like twice the size of me.
“I’ll take this one,” I murmured and wandered into it. I pulled the sheet back and coughed as a plume of dust billowed into the air. I was greeted with a blue and purple bedspread with a zigzag pattern across it.
Shaking my head, I set my bag down and went to find Duke. He was in the kitchen, pulling open the oven, and then the little microwave set on the counter like he was searching for something.
“You’ve got to be kidding me with these… accommodations,” I spat, my arms folded over my chest.
He closed the oven door and stood up straight. Piercing me with his dark blue eyes, he said, “I’m sorry it’s not a 5-star hotel, but keeping you alive isn’t all about comfort. So get over it.”
