Wrapped Up In You: A Military Romance (Unwanted Soldiers Book 2)

by Aden Lowe

  Yeah. Deep fucking trouble.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Azia

  I was playing with fire. I knew it, and yet, I couldn't stop. I've never been a risk taker. Teasing Flag like this was probably the most dangerous and reckless thing I've ever done. I told myself I just wanted to get this over with, and have him get the killer, so anything I had to do in order to help that along was okay. Maybe deep down I knew the truth.

  None of that stopped me from pressing into his erection as we danced. None of it made me shy away from the way his heart pounded under my hand, or the low groan he gave when my finger brushed across his nipple. Instead, all those things made me crave more, and made my blood sing with the power of my touch over this strong man.

  His responses to me told the truth. He still felt the attraction. That knowledge turned into a powerful aphrodisiac. It made me want him with an intensity I never thought possible. My core throbbed with every movement, every breath.

  Every logical bone in my body insisted I put an end to this insanity. Then his fingers stroked along my spine and turned my traitorous flesh to putty. No, despite the risks, I couldn't stop. I needed him, in every way. If that meant the rest of my life lost in unrelenting heartbreak, I was still unable to step back and put some distance between our bodies.

  "Baby, if we don't get out of here soon, we're going to get a lot more attention than you wanted." His hot breath on my neck sent a thrill of adrenaline coursing through my system.

  The words drew me from my dazed thoughts. "Mmm. How?"

  "Because I want to fuck you. Now."

  I froze in place as excitement combined with alarm to confuse my senses.

  "Come on." He stepped back, leaving me cold and needy, but his warm fingers circled my arm. "Walk fast."

  The insistent pressure on my elbow allowed no argument, even if I had wanted. And right now, he was the last thing in the world I wanted to resist. So, instead of doing the smart thing and saying no, I went right along as he paused by our table long enough to drop a wad of bills beside the check. The dining room passed in a blur as I hurried to keep up with his long strides.

  "You seem in a big hurry, Miss Mendez." Mrs. Nealy's strident voice cut through the haze with a bitter laser.

  Flag halted and shot a scowl in her direction. Flustered, I struggled for a reply. This went beyond her usual whispering behind backs. I suddenly saw the vicious side of her, instead of only the annoying busybody. "I—"

  Flag's laughter halted me. "Yeah, she is. Or maybe you'd rather I fuck her right here, so you'd have more to gossip about."

  Mrs. Nealy's jaw dropped in shock, and her friend gasped. Flag started walking again before she could reply, and I certainly had no interest in waiting around. Well, no doubt about it. Every person in town would know by sunset. Mrs. Nealy would scorch the phone lines in her outrage. By morning, the story would have grown to the point where people were convinced Flag had fucked me right there in the restaurant, and threatened to do the same to Mrs. Nealy.

  A big part of me cowered at the thought of so much notoriety. My entire life, I struggled to keep my head down and avoid drawing attention. Unwanted consequences came with attention. All of this turned my very nature upside down. I reminded myself it accomplished our goal. Richard Riley, or whoever, would hear about my engagement before long. If Flag's theory was right, he would make a move very soon. Hopefully before I made any more of a fool out of myself.

  Another part of me, one that terrified me, felt like screaming FASTER! The sooner we could be alone, the better. That part couldn't live another moment without Flag's touch, despite the pain it would bring.

  We reached his truck, and Flag helped me inside, then hurried around to his door, and I felt oddly disappointed. Why hadn't he kissed me? I knew he wanted to, and I certainly wanted it. The engine roared before I could say anything, and he pushed a button on the dash. Loud music, maybe heavy metal, rattled my teeth. Eventually I managed to make out two whole words of the lyrics. Or at least I thought the singer said respect and walk. The whole thing sounded very aggressive and confrontational. Definitely not something I would listen to, given the choice.

  The song eventually ended, and another took its place, opening with a slightly discordant sounding instrument, as if it were growling. The lyrics began with a startlingly rough voice, as if the singer were trying to restrain a shout by clenching his teeth, as he told himself hello.

  Okay. Enough was enough. If I had to listen to this any longer, I would go as mad as the singer sounded. "Flag!" I had to shout to be heard over the grinding music.

  He glanced in my direction. "Yeah?" His voice barely reached my ears.

  I leaned to look for a volume control, but couldn't find it. The whole dashboard looked oddly bereft of knobs or switches to adjust anything. Frustrated, I tapped my ear.

  He lowered the volume immediately. "You need something?"

  "That was too loud. It hurt my ears." And my brain, but I didn't say that.

  He turned the music off all the way with a grunt, but stayed silent. I could live with that. I needed to think, anyway, and try to figure out what to do about his dizzying mood changes. One moment he seemed concerned for me, then he stepped back to keep me at arms' length. If that weren't bad enough, he would then go from friendly joking to scorching hot, and then ice cold. It would be best for my sanity to ignore everything except getting Riley drawn out as quickly as possible. The moment I started to waver toward enjoying myself with him, despite whatever came with it, he changed yet again.

  Two blocks later, he pulled onto a road I didn't recognize. "Where are we going?"

  "To talk." His voice grated, as if speaking took monumental effort.

  The words made no sense, though. "I thought we were going to my place. We can't talk there?"

  "Can't wait that long."

  I stopped myself from asking why. The murderous expression on his face warned my questions should wait. Well, while we were talking, I had a few things to say, too. The best way to deal with those rapid-fire mood changes would be to confront them head on.

  He pulled into a parking area for a tiny park, shut the truck off, and turned in his seat to study me. "Azia, what are we doing here?"

  I blinked at him. How could he not know? Then I realized, maybe he had some sort of memory issue. After all, he'd been through some pretty horrible things. "We're trying to catch a killer, remember?" I kept my tone gentle, not wanting to make things any worse for him, or anger him. If he became violent, it wouldn't go well for me. Real fear pricked at my nerve endings.

  But Flag actually rolled his eyes at me. "I fucking know that part. No, I mean what are we doing?"

  I stared at him, still not understanding. Did he think I could read his mind?

  An exasperated noise came from him and he dropped his head back against the seat. "I can't fucking do this, Azia. I thought I could. I thought I could play with you, but the truth is, I can't come back from that kind of wound again." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, like that explained everything.

  Did he ever talk without riddles? "I'm sorry, Flag. I still have no idea what you're talking about." I searched my memory, trying to figure it out.

  "Fuck!" His hands fisted on his knees, and my alarm escalated. "I can't fucking touch you, and not mean it. I can't have you rubbing up on me, and not get hard enough to drive nails. I can't kiss you and not want to fuck you. That's what I'm talking about."

  A different kind of fear filled me. "So you're just quitting? You'll let a killer go free?"

  "No. I'm still going to do the job, because now it's too late to let one of the others come in and do it. And I won't let anything happen to you. But this fucking engagement shit? I can't do that."

  I let the words soak in, trying to stave off the anger that rose in response. "Well, too bad. You're a little late on that one too. And just so you remember, it was your idea, and now it's too late to take it back."

  His eyes glittered dangerously. "Like I
said, I thought I could do it."

  The anger flared a little brighter. "You sound like you think this is all my fault. You pulled me into your lap at Carrie's house. You kissed me. You made little flirty remarks. You said we needed to draw him out fast. Yes, dancing was my idea, because I knew it was a way to ensure he heard about us right away." I took a deep breath. "And while we're at it, we should talk about your moods. One minute your nice, the next you ignore me, and then you do or say something that gets me all…" No. I couldn't say the rest. My damp panties were none of his business. I shrugged. "So what do we do about it?"

  He lifted his hands and let them fall back to his thighs. "I guess the only thing we can do is go forward, but agree to keep the physical contact to an absolute minimum."

  "Okay." Unshed tears tightened my throat. "Flag, do you ever wish…"

  He looked at me a long time. "Yeah. Every fucking goddamn day. I never got over losing you. Probably never will. That's why I can't play games."

  I nodded my understanding. "Yes, I know. There's no future for us now."

  "No. There isn't." He started the truck.

  That stoic acceptance of our fate almost made me want to slap him. How could he not want to fight for what we might have had? Then I felt bad for being angry. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. His bosses would kill him if he tried.

  Why hadn't I demanded more answers all those years ago? Even then I knew I needed at least a grave to visit. No matter what his grandfather said, I should have pursued it. If nothing else, a death notice would have appeared in the paper.

  How could I have given up on us so easily? At least he tried then, and looked for me. I took the word of one bitter, angry old man who hated us both, and never asked another question.

  Guilt and self-loathing threatened to suck me under again, back to that horrid, dark place I went after learning of Cass' supposed death. I wanted to curl in on myself and disappear. Living simply hurt too much.

  Sitting there beside Flag, I let tears roll, and didn't bother to wipe them away. An endless ocean of them waited to follow, so the effort would be wasted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Flag

  This fucking sucked. I thought I would enjoy bringing her pain, but I was wrong. Even after all the things I said, my need for her increased with every heartbeat. She was hurting, crying, and all I could think about what was her tears would taste like as I kissed them away. I never considered the impact on her when I suggested the engagement cover story. Hell, I left my own feelings out of that equation too.

  The drive back to her apartment passed in near-silence. I wanted to say something, but couldn't trust myself not to make matters worse. This shit had to get cleared up, though. That kind of distraction could cost us the killer, or put one or both of us in danger. All he needed was one lapse of focus, and it would be over. I spent the rest of the trip composing myself, and left figuring out the solution for later, when we reached her place. I needed more than the few inches of distance between us the truck cab offered in order to think.

  I took advantage of the lack of curbs around the parking lot to drive up into the grass and stop beside Azia's car, still in her space. A few chalked lines marred the pavement, probably where the victims of last night's attack explained things to the police. Looking back, I should have had Azia call and make a report. It wasn't too late, but would have been more effective immediately after the fact. That neighbor needed a fucking crowbar taken to his knees.

  "You can't park here, you know." Her voice interrupted my train of thought.

  I looked around, checking for signs or barriers. "Who says?"

  It took her a moment to reply. "I don't know. But everyone knows, you just don't park on the grass."

  I chuckled. "Well, I don't see any signs about the fucking grass, or anything else. So, as far as I'm concerned, I'll park here if I want. And I want." Maybe I shouldn't be so bullheaded, but at the moment, I just didn't give a shit.

  She shook her head and opened her door. "Whatever." Her feet hit the ground before I made it around the truck to help her down. She winced with a sharp cry, and balanced precariously on one foot.

  I got my arm around her waist to help. "What is it?"

  "I'll be fine. I just twisted my ankle a little." Maybe, but her face had already gone pale, and small beads of sweat broke across her forehead. That seemed to me like a lot more than a twisted ankle. "If you'll just help me inside, I'll ice it and it'll be fine."

  Right. I scooped her up in my arms, closed the truck door with my shoulder, and started toward the building. The way her hair tickled my jaw sent heat straight to my dick. Just fucking perfect. I needed to not touch her, but here I was, clutching her in my arms. Fuck my life.

  Azia's body remained stiff, despite her obvious pain. "You can set me down. I can walk. I just need a little help."

  I clenched my jaw for a second to bite back a few curses. "No. This will be faster, and we can't risk you injuring that ankle more than it already is." I paused so she could reach the reader to swipe into the building. At least the place had security system, instead of just broken locks like many apartment buildings.

  She pushed at my shoulder a little as we crossed the lobby. "I'll be fine. Put me down."

  I awkwardly managed to open the stairwell door without releasing her. "Goddamn it, Azia, just stop it." Carrying her failed to slow me down on the stairs, and I shoved through the door on her floor and headed straight for her apartment.

  "You're a jerk, you know that?" More fucking tears sparkled on her lashes.

  "Yep, I know it. And I'm good with it."

  An older woman came out of the next apartment as Azia leaned awkwardly from my arms to unlock her own door. "Miss Mendez? I hope this isn't a bad time?" The woman's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, and she kept her hands clutched together so hard her knuckles and nails went white.

  "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Reis. I've just twisted my ankle and I need to get ice on it right away." Azia stiffened even further in my arms. Reis. The neighbor's mother. "Can it wait?"

  Her chin trembled. "I…uh…yes, I suppose so." Her shoulders slumped even further as she turned away.

  "Wait, Mrs. Reis." Shit, Azia might shoot me for this. "Come in. Azia isn't going to be moving around too much. You can talk while I get the ice and Tylenol."

  Azia glared daggers at me, and her nostrils flared with the force of her anger. "Yes, that's true. Come in, please." At least I took her mind off the pain in her ankle.

  Inside, I placed her on the couch with her feet up. "Have a seat Mrs. Reis, and just ignore me. I'm going to find out how bad this injury is." The lady complied while I removed Azia's shoe. A little bruising discolored her delicate-looking ankle, but at least there didn't seem to be any swelling yet.

  Mrs. Reis started talking as I headed for the kitchen and ice. "I'm so sorry to bother you, dear. I just…I have some questions."

  Azia replied, too low for me to hear as I rummaged in her freezer for ice. Failing to find any, I settled for frozen broccoli and returned to the living room with a dishtowel wrapped around the bag.

  "I know Christopher was different, and most people were put off by that. But did he make anyone angry enough to kill him?" Mrs. Reis' voice shook with unshed tears. Losing a kid had to be horrible in the best of circumstance, but in something senseless and brutal like this, I was shocked the mother was even capable of asking questions.

  Azia hissed from the cold as the cloth touched her skin. "Of course he didn't, Mrs. Reis. Chris was a good person. Yes, he was different, but he adapted his life to work within his limits. I can't imagine anyone being angry at him at all." She winced as the weight of the bag settled on the injury.

  Mrs. Reis nodded. "That's what I thought, but his father insists I don't know everything about him, that he must have done something. Why would someone hurt him for no reason?"

  Azia's horrified gaze met mine. "Mrs. Reis, I didn't get the chance to know your son. But unfortunately, I know far too much ab
out people hurting others. And I know that sometimes, there simply is no reason." Anger built in my belly. Until this moment, I had no connection to any of the victims, and right now, it made no difference to me that this woman's son may have been killed in some unrelated thing. He wasn't a fucking lowlife, or a dealer, or any other kind of thing that could give someone a reason.

  The woman looked at me as if I'd tossed her a lifeline. "The news…The news said his body was mutilated. Miss Mendez, you identified him for us. What did they do to him? They still won't let us s-see him because…" She trailed off to wipe away tears.

  More tears, Azia's this time, spilled. "I don't know." Her voice was so soft, I wasn't sure Mrs. Reis could hear her. "I didn't see. They just showed me a picture of his face on a screen." Her hands went over her mouth. "I still can't believe it."

  I didn't know much about women, but I knew the two of them needed to talk, and to grieve. They could do that better without me, so I excused myself to go pick up some pain relievers.

  Just as I made it out to the hallway, another door down a little further opened, and a man came out, talking on his cell. "Yeah, man, I know exactly who the bitch is. We just need to bide our time a little, let shit die down." He passed me without a glance and punched the button for the elevator, but not before I caught sight of the bruised and scraped mess I'd made of the left side of his face.

  Fucking bastard. I headed for that elevator, despite hating them with a passion. If the cocksucker that held a gun on Azia while two others harassed her was going downstairs that way, so was I. Perfect time for a little chat.

  I waited with the bastard, and he finished with his call right before the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. My belly tightened with nerves as I stepped over that threshold and trusted a damn box and some cables to hold. One time being stuck in an elevator was more than enough for one lifetime.

  Forcing my mind back to business, I positioned myself by the control panel as he got in. "What floor, man?"