Don’t puke, Karla. Just don’t puke.
Karla Paxton’s stomach got all weird and fluttery. Her hands began to shake. Then the soldier turned around and looked down at her. The shaking grew worse. What was the matter with her?
At first, she’d been afraid they were going to fight it out right in front of her, but the creep just got up and walked away. Well, she couldn’t blame him. The tall soldier had huge muscles—and obviously knew how to use them.
The soldier had sprung at that skaggy jerk like a mountain lion on a mouse. She’d never seen anyone move so fast. Especially someone his age. He had gray hairs at his temples, although the rest of his hair was dark brown—clipped very short, but not as short as Ian’s was now. His eyes were bloodshot and kinda sad looking. He must not have had much sleep lately.
Her gaze took in his wrinkled khaki shirt. If Ian’s uniform had been wrinkled like that, he’d have gotten in trouble. She looked at his ring finger. Married. His wife must not be nearby to take care of him. Of course, her mom would have made Ian—and probably her dad—iron his own shirt.
When he sat down where the jerk had been a few minutes ago, she shook even more, despite the fact he didn’t get into her personal space like that skag had done. Then the heat coming from his body made her feel warm and her hands stopped shaking after a little while.
“You okay, hon?”
Oh, my God. Did he just call me hon?
Not trusting her voice and not too sure about how safe he was, she just nodded. He reminded her of Dr. McNeil on Chicago Hope. She and her Mom had watched the series all the time until the show got canceled. Karla thought Mark Harmon looked hot, but didn’t tell Mom that. Mom was always pushing her to notice the dweebs in her class. But they were so immature.
“Where you headed?”
He pulled her back from her thoughts. “New York City.”
“Family there?”
Karla looked away. What’s with all the questions? “No. I need to get away from family right now.”
“Someone expecting you in New York?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Sure.” No.
“When does your bus leave?”
“Six forty-five.”
He looked at his watch. “That’s another seven hours.” He sighed as if that was a problem. What was it to him? She didn’t need a babysitter.
Then she glanced around at the men nearby and asked him, “What time does yours leave?”
“Four-thirty.”
Damn. Why did that make her feel scared again? Well, he wasn’t going to talk her out of going. She could take care of herself.
Yeah, like you did with that pimp.
Suddenly, Karla wasn’t so sure she wanted to talk with the soldier anymore. No one was going to talk her out of making this trip. She’d saved money all year, working at a bakery near her home all last summer and babysitting until she had enough for a bus ticket and almost fifteen hundred dollars to spare. When she got to New York, she’d get a job at one of the clubs. Someday, she was going to be a star, recording her own CDs and everything.
But she wouldn’t tell him that. He’d just nod and say something condescending like “that’s nice,” and not believe she could do it at all. She was tired of dreaming. It was time to make her dreams come true.
Her stomach growled. She pulled the book and backpack closer to try and shield his ears from the embarrassing sound.
“Have you had anything to eat lately?”
“Sure.” Her stomach called her a liar, even more loudly.
He chuckled and his green eyes lit up for the first time. The corners of his eyes crinkled into tiny lines. Then she felt those funny butterflies in her stomach again.
She must really be hungry.
“How long ago?”
She tilted her chin up. “I had pancakes for breakfast.”
“Come on,” he said, laughing. “Let me buy you some dinner.” He stood next to her, as tall as the Sears Tower, but didn’t grab at her like the creepy man had. He just waited, as if she had no choice but to stand because he had ordered her to go with him. Well, no way was she going anywhere with a stranger. He was too big. She wouldn’t be able to fight him off.
Even if I did want to.
Whoa! What was the matter with her? He looked as old as her uncle, who was forty-three.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” She opened her book again, hoping he’d take the hint and go away.
When he did just that, she didn’t understand why her heart squeezed tight. She looked up and watched him leave, rounding the ticket counter and heading for the exit. Gosh, he didn’t even say good-bye. And where was his coat? Didn’t he know it was freezing cold out there?
Looking around, she noticed a lot of scary people watching her—mostly men. She guessed women were too smart to catch a bus in the middle of the night. None of these guys had eyes that crinkled when they laughed. They didn’t smile like they cared about her. They just leered, especially when they stared at her boobs, making her skin crawl as if a bunch of ants had taken over.
She looked across at where the soldier had been sitting and saw a large duffel bag that must belong to him. One of the boob-leering men started to reach down slowly as if to hide the fact he was about to take the bag.
“Leave it alone!” Karla wasn’t sure where that voice came from, then realized it was hers. The man stopped dead. Wow! “He’s coming back soon and, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave his things where he left them.”
When the man stood up and walked across the terminal, Karla began to shake again. Only this time, there were no butterflies. Just a feeling like the flu she had last year.
Would she have to deal with creeps like these all the way to New York? Had she made the right decision to run away? Her parents didn’t understand how urgent it was for her to start her career now, rather than wait a few years. They just thought she was a stupid sixteen-year-old.
Wait until you graduate from high school. Then you can study music at Loyola.
They’d been telling her that since school started. Didn’t they realize she couldn’t wait that long? Now was her chance. Her music teacher said she had a gift. She didn’t need more schooling. She just needed to find a job where she could sing for people who could discover her talent and offer her a recording contract. If she didn’t go now, she just knew she’d never get there. She’d never be anybody in the music business.
Her parents would be surprised, and sad, when they woke up tomorrow and she wasn’t in her bed. Her eyes burned. She loved them a lot and didn’t want to make them sad, but…
“Here. Eat this.”
Karla looked up to find the soldier had returned, holding a fast-food bag toward her. She grinned as she stashed her book in her backpack and took the sack from him. He came back to you.
As soon as she opened the sack, the smell of greasy burgers and fries caused her stomach to rumble even louder than before. She felt her face grow hotter, but was too hungry to let it faze her. She’d skipped lunch today so she could run to the bank and clean out her account for the trip.
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him.
The soldier sat down beside her again. She felt him watching her. When she glanced his way, he just smiled and watched as she pigged out on the food. Gawd, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was! Feeling a little guilty, she held out the box of fries and offered him some.
He chuckled. “No. They’re all for you.”
After she’d finished the second hamburger, he handed her a soda. She drank half of it before letting go of the straw and taking a deep breath. She felt so full now she thought she’d explode.
“That was so good. Thanks.” She smiled at him. He really was just trying to be nice. Still, she knew to be leery of strangers, even nice ones. But she also knew she’d have to learn to trust some strangers, if she was going to make it in New York. He seemed like a safe one.
Maybe because her brother was in the Army. Ian would hav
e helped out a scared girl, too, if someone was bothering her.
“So, where’s home?”
“Here,” she answered, without thinking. “But I’m going to live in New York.”
“Why New York?”
“They have the best Goth clubs and recording companies.”
“So you like to sing?”
“Better than anything.”
“What do you sing?”
“Tarja’s music mostly.” She could tell by his blank stare he had no idea who Tarja Tarunun was. Well, her parents had no clue either. “She’s the lead singer for Nightwish.” Still blank. “A metal band from Finland.”
He nodded. “I see.”
No, you don’t. But he was kinda cute for pretending he did. She started to crumple up the bag, and then his hand covered hers to stop her. She felt a weird tingling go up her arm, almost like being shocked with electricity. Her heart banged against her chest.
“Look inside. There’s more.”
She reopened the bag and moved the crumpled wrappers and empty fries box aside. Like opening a Christmas present. She had a momentary pang of regret, realizing she wouldn’t be home to open presents this year.
O-M-G, pie! The box was rust colored. “Apple or cherry?” she asked.
“Cherry.”
“How’d you know? That’s my favorite!” She reached in and pulled out the box.
He shrugged and smiled. His eyes lit up again. “Lucky guess.”
* * *
Adam watched her devour the pie in just a few bites. He thought teenage boys had voracious appetites. How she stayed so skinny was beyond him. Of course, she hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe he should have bought her more to eat.
Man, her parents must be worried sick.
He regretted that he and Joni hadn’t been able to have children. She’d have been a terrific mom. Tamping down those thoughts, he looked at the little Goth girl. She wore too much black. At least her pink hair gave her some color.
“Isn’t your family going to miss you for Thanksgiving?” Aw, hell. He’d gone and asked one of those fucking nosy questions he didn’t want people asking him.
Watch your language around the kid.
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “They’ll understand.”
Doubtful.
After she’d finished the pie, she put her garbage into the bag, except for the soda, and started to get up to throw it away. Adam took the sack and wadded it even tighter, then lobbed it into the open can at the end of the row. Score! First basket he’d made since he’d played in high school.
He reached out his hand to her, “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Master Sergeant Adam Montague, U.S. Marine Corps. But you can call me Adam.”
She placed her limp hand inside his and they shook. “Karla Paxton…the next Madonna.” She giggled. “My friends call me…um, well, Karla’s good.”
He smiled. So naïve. Innocent. He wondered what her friends called her, but wouldn’t pry. God, the kid wore her heart on her sleeve. She wasn’t going to last long in New York. He worried about her going there and wished he could wake her up with a dose of reality. He’d seen his share of hell in this world and didn’t want her to have to experience it.
“I’m sure you’ve already lined up a place to stay in New York. Right?”
She dodged his gaze. “Well, I figured I’d check in at the YMCA or a youth hostel or something until I find an apartment.”
“Where do you plan to live after that?”
“Soho.” Her eyes lit up.
Shit. A dreamer. She’d probably seen the trendy neighborhood in a movie or music video. “There are lots of clubs in Soho I could get a job at.”
“I see you’ve done some homework.” Not nearly enough, though. “So, what’s an apartment in Soho going for these days?” He had no clue, but figured most places in Manhattan would be way out of range for a teenage runaway.
“Well…” she began, and then looked away, her brow furrowing. “It’s pretty expensive from what I saw on the Web. I’ll probably have to find a roommate or two and share expenses.”
His gut twisted at the vision of her falling into the clutches of another predator at the Port Authority terminal. Yeah, they’d give her a place to stay all right. Fuck. She needed to go back home and spend Thanksgiving with a family that loved her. She didn’t seem to be running away from something so much as running to something. She just didn’t have the patience to wait around to do a little more growing up.
Of course, he’d run away at sixteen himself. He’d had to go through a lot of hell and trouble before he’d found first the Marines and then Joni, both of whom had straightened his ass out.
At least Karla still has family to be with for the holidays.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Just one brother. Ian. He’s in the Army National Guard. That’s why…” she looked down at her backpack and played with the zipper latch.
“Why what?”
She shook her head and smiled, her face flushing.
“C’mon. Tell me.” He grinned. So fucking hard to believe there was such innocence left in the world. Certainly not in his world. Not anymore.
“Well,” she looked him in the eye, her blue eyes sparkling. She smiled. “That’s why I sat across from you. Your uniform reminded me of Ian’s.”
Khaki looked about the same for either branch. Thank God. Adam didn’t want to think what might have happened if she’d sat somewhere else in the station tonight. If he hadn’t become aware of her predicament in his post-hangover haze.
She sighed. “I miss him.” Adam watched as a single tear trickled down her cheek, leaving a trail of watery mascara.
“Where is he?” God, don’t let him be another fallen hero. They’d lost too many troops in this damned war. He tried to remember if she’d said “is” or “was” in the Army.
“He finished boot camp two months ago. He can’t tell us where he is yet.”
Adam didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it out in a whoosh. “He’s well-trained, I’m sure. Don’t worry about him. He’ll do fine.” Like Adam could be sure of anything these days. But military families had enough to worry about without knowing what was really going on.
“I hope so. Are you a hero, Adam?” She smiled at him just the way Joni had done when he sat at her booth in that restaurant in St. Paul. Her short black waitress skirt had shown off the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. She’d confessed later that his uniform had attracted her, as well. She’d called him her very own hero warrior.
Damn it. I don’t need hero-worship responsibility right now.
“I’m nobody’s hero, hon.” Not even Joni’s. He hadn’t been able to fight the only battle she’d needed him to win for her. Aw, hell, don’t go there again.
“Aren’t your parents going to be upset when they find out you’re gone, too?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt and felt a pang of guilt when the light went out of her eyes. But at least he’d wiped the hero worship from her gaze.
“They don’t understand.”
“I’ll bet they understand more than you know.”
“No, they…”
She gasped as she looked beyond his shoulder. He looked in the direction of her distressed gaze and saw the pimp had returned with a couple of his thugs.
Adam smiled. Bring it on, boys. I’ve got nothing left to lose.
Then he remembered Karla and knew he couldn’t let them anywhere near her tonight. He turned back toward her.
“Karla, look at me. Now.” When she finally dragged her gaze away from the pimp and his scumbag buddies, Adam said, “Go to the ladies room and stay there until you hear me give you the all-clear. If there’s a lock on the outside door, use it. If not, lock yourself in one of the stalls.” Her blue eyes grew as wide as saucers. She swallowed hard, but sat frozen. Using his master sergeant’s voice, he growled. “Now!” She jumped, and then her blank stare focused on his face a second before her han
ds clutched her backpack. She ran toward the head.
“Good girl,” he said, though he knew she didn’t hear him.
With Karla out of harm’s way, he could devote his full attention to the bilge rats slowly approaching him. He stood and set his legs, preparing for battle. The one on the far left held a switchblade. The one on the right wore brass knuckles. The pimp just wore a cocky smirk.
You may think you have the upper hand, punk. But I’m going to show you different.
“What’s the matter, soldier boy? Haven’t been able to get into her pants yet? Mebbe I need to show you some moves.”
Okay, perv. Now I’m pissed.
“Yeah, I’d like to see that.”
Adam knew his commanding officer would be pissed, too, if one of his master sergeants was tossed in jail, so he waited for one of the punks to make the first move. The few people waiting for buses scattered to the other end of the terminal, out of danger. Except for the passed-out wino, but he wasn’t in the way.
Adam didn’t have long to wait. The man carrying the knife lunged with his body his weapon pointed toward Adam’s gut. Adam answered with a spinning hook kick to the side of the man’s head. The knife flew from his hand as he fell to a heap on the floor.
That should even the odds a little bit.
Movement. Out of his peripheral vision, Adam saw the dickhead with the brass knuckles move, expanding the area Adam needed to defend. The first punch headed straight for Adam’s kidney. He swung away to evade contact. His two-week bender must have slowed down his reaction time. But at least the impact of the blow landed on Adam’s shoulder blade and not his kidney. The dickhead followed with a bare-knuckled blow to his mouth. Adam groaned at the impact. Focus, man.
Adam stepped back. He needed room. Swing. Now! His roundhouse kick landed squarely against Brass Knuckle’s ear. The man reeled sideways until he hit the bank of chairs. He sat down abruptly, the expression on his face one of stunned disbelief. Dazed. The man’s eyes glazed over as he curled onto his side.
Breathing hard, Adam turned toward the pimp. Now, prick, it’s just you and me.
Once again, Adam waited for the man to make the first move. Without his bodyguards, he appeared to have lost his bravado just when it would have become a fair fight. The pimp backed away from Adam, toward the ticket counter. Adam stalked him like a puma.
Masters at Arms Page 2
