by Jodie Bailey
Stowing her boots under the bench, Jessica followed Angie into the small kitchen at the back of the house, letting a deep breath of the familiar spicy scents wash over her and ease some of the weirdness from her day. This room, with its cheery yellow walls and white cabinets, was her happy place, the one spot in the whole world where nothing could touch her. Running her hands along the cool granite of the counter, she thanked God again for leading her to a roommate who had gourmet decorating tastes, if not gourmet cooking skills.
“Hungry?” Angie pulled open a cabinet door and stood staring into the contents as though she knew what to do with them.
“You’re cooking? I’ll pass.” Jessica leaned back against the counter. No matter who was cooking, food didn’t sound appetizing with the pain in her shoulder twisting a knot in her stomach. Or maybe that knot had more to do with the fact Channing and her cohort were still out there somewhere, having eluded the MPs and slipped off post before the order came through to tighten security at the gates.
“I make a mean can of tomato soup, I’ll have you know.” Thumping the can on the counter, Angie reached up and pulled her blond hair into a ponytail, securing it with a hair band she slid from her wrist. “You should eat something.”
“I’m good. All I want is a shower and my bed.”
“Maybe you’ll dream about your mystery protector.” Two years younger than Jessica, Angie thought everything was romantic. Knowing her, she was wishing she had been the one facing down a bad guy while a handsome hero rushed to save her.
Reality was nothing like the fantasy. Jessica would roll her eyes, but she was afraid she’d fall asleep halfway through. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Just tell me he was cute, and I’ll go dream about him for you.”
“I was a little too busy to notice.” Sort of. In spite of the situation, forgetting how blue those eyes were when he trained them right on her was not easy. And he had that dark blond kind of hair that was just a little bit longer than it should be, so it sort of mussed on the top as if he’d dragged his fingers through it.
Well, okay. So a girl could think a guy was handsome, especially if he was in the process of saving her life. Why lie? “Fine. He was the sort you’d think was gorgeous. Broad shoulders and all.” Jessica shoved off the counter and headed for her room, where the joy of sweatpants awaited and this conversation ended. “And to make your dreams even better, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a regular Joe from down on the line, not the way he handled himself. But just remember, for all we know, that exterior hid a whole tangle of crazy.” Somehow, she doubted that. The way he took authority and dove at her attacker said there was more to him than a man who was simply in the right place at the right time.
“All I heard in that jumble of words was you noticed the color of his eyes.” Angie’s laugh followed Jessica up the hall to the stairwell. “Maybe you’ll see him again.”
“Doubtful.” At least she hoped not. Any man who stepped on her authority the way he had didn’t sit right with her, even if he had saved her life.
Jessica climbed the stairs and shut the door on Angie’s amusement, then leaned back against it, letting her body relax for the first time in hours. If she didn’t have work to do, she’d crawl into bed right now and will the world away for the rest of the night.
Even though she’d hedged with Angie, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to see her anonymous defender again, at least so she could thank him for putting himself in danger on her behalf. If he hadn’t been there...
Shuddering, Jessica forced herself to move. Going there now would just solidify the image and unfurl it in her nightmares later. Not that she needed much help. Even if she didn’t have recurring dreams about her last deployment, the decor in her bedroom would agitate her. Why Angie had seen fit to go Gothic in here with deep red walls and heavy dark wood furniture was a mystery Jessica had never felt like solving. She was just happy to live off post.
Changing into track pants and a sweatshirt, Jessica gathered her uniform to toss it into the laundry. Every time she bent to pick up clothes from the hardwood floor, her shoulder pounded a reminder it had only been a few hours since she’d done battle with one of her soldiers, who’d now gone missing.
She snatched up her uniform bottoms, unwilling to think about this day anymore.
Something hard clattered to the floor and slid beneath the dark gray bed skirt. Kneeling to reach with her uninjured arm, Jessica retrieved the object and held it up.
Private Channing’s cell phone, the one that had fallen from her backpack when she swung it at Jessica’s head. Sinking all the way to the floor, Jessica powered up the device, praying it held enough charge to give her a clue as to what was happening with her disappearing soldier and the attempted theft of yet another laptop.
The phone chimed to life with just under a quarter of its battery showing. Almost immediately, texts popped onto the screen, vibrating the phone and chirping to the point Jessica nearly shoved the thing under a pillow. When the noise finally stopped, over a dozen texts waited.
It was probably an invasion of privacy to read them, but since the girl had lost the phone while swinging a backpack at Jessica’s head, privacy really ranked low at this point.
Jessica clicked on the first message. It was nothing but letters and numbers strewn together in a random pattern. Each and every message read the same way, though they came from two different telephone numbers.
Sitting back against the bed, Jessica let the device hang from limp fingers between her knees. It was almost like a child had typed text after text right under their parents’ noses. Private Channing didn’t have any children and no family that Jessica could remember seeing in her records when she’d arrived last week to prepare for rotation overseas. The woman was a foster child, her next of kin listed as a friend she’d met in basic training.
Lifting the phone again, Jessica clicked out of the messages and hesitated only a moment before going to email. The slight pain in her shoulder urged her past any sense of contrition for snooping.
No new emails, but dozens of already-opened ones sat in the queue, each with an attachment.
Why stop now? Jessica clicked on the first one. No message, but the attachment opened to reveal an official Department of Defense photo of a young male soldier. The next three emails were the same, with dozens more behind them, all sent within the past six weeks. Face after face flicked by, none of them bringing a name to mind, one or two of them vaguely familiar, though it could have been they bore resemblance to a famous person...or her exhaustion was kicking into overdrive.
Jessica turned the phone off and pulled herself up. Likely, Channing had found some weird dating site that catered exclusively to the military. There were worse things young soldiers had done with the Internet, that was for sure.
She slipped the phone into her backpack and pulled out her personal laptop, wanting to sleep but knowing her keyed-up mind wouldn’t let her. Lately, her father had started pushing the Green to Gold option on her, hinting he’d like her to take advantage of the Army’s program that allowed her to go to college on their dime and become a commissioned officer.
It was tempting, earning her father’s respect, but she’d have to temporarily leave behind her status as a medic. The thought burned in her chest. She was already sidelined for a year, watching the home front, helping soldiers transition into and out of the Army, working with the families... Would it be worth it, walking away from her dream career for an even longer stretch of time, simply for the possibility of making her father proud?
She shoved the laptop aside. Researching colleges and ROTC programs would only frustrate her more. She’d be better off staring at the dark ceiling and praying to fall asleep.
Tomorrow, she’d turn the phone over to the military police and let them deal with it and the blue-eyed mystery man who’d saved her life.
* * *
The food court of the small shopping center at the Fort Campbell Post Exchange buzzed with hundreds of soldiers and their families, all trying to grab lunch and go. With a lot of the units rotated back home from deployment, the lines were long, and the noise was loud.
Jessica eyed the crowd, watching people mill about as she waited to fill her drink. Too many people in one place. She suppressed a shudder and watched a teenage boy wearing a backpack stride across the room, head down. Her muscles tensed, shoulders aching, as he wove his way through the crowd. It wasn’t until he walked out that she relaxed. In combat, backpacks, unattended bags, huge crowds—they all spelled trouble.
She’d been back stateside for five months, but the wariness hadn’t left yet. Likely, it never would. She still dodged potholes in the road, still scanned thick groves of trees for evidence of a sniper... Yesterday’s events hadn’t helped, to be sure.
As the man in front of her stepped away, she pressed her cup to the lever for ice, and then filled it to the brim with sweet tea.
Sipping her drink and hoping in vain the caffeine would waylay the effects of her sleepless night, Jessica turned from the drink machine and surveyed the room, trying to find an empty table with a view of one of the TVs. There. By the front window. If she could just beat the nineteen other people who’d probably spotted it, also. She took two steps from the fountain, and a body collided with hers, knocking her drink from her tray. It splattered to the floor, dousing her lower legs and covering her boots with sweet stickiness.
Cold tea ran inside her boots, soaking the tops of her socks. With a gasp, she stepped back, the cup squishing beneath her heel.
A young soldier stared at her, eyes wide as he took a step back. “Oh man.” He shoved a wad of napkins into her hand and retrieved her cup from the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Jessica didn’t even have to see his rank to know he was a very green private. The dark Army-issued glasses and gangly newborn colt stance told her without needing to see the rank on his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Private.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but taking her frustrations out on this poor kid wouldn’t help. She knelt and blotted at the drink on her boots, biting back words she’d have to repent for later, she was sure. “I can get another drink. And I have a spare pair of boots in my office.” Thankfully.
The kid still looked mortified. Fresh out of basic, he was definitely used to getting yelled out for every minor infraction, and was likely waiting for the tongue-lashing he thought he deserved.
Jessica pulled in a deep breath and straightened. “Really, it’s all good.”
The private looked down at the cup in his hand. “I’ll get you another drink.”
He was gone before she could protest that he really didn’t have to do that and was somehow back within minutes, even though the lines were still crazy long. Jessica didn’t question as he fed ice into her cup. “Um, Staff Sergeant? You missed a spot on your toe.” He started to reach down, then nervously pulled his hand back, aiming a finger at her left boot. “You were drinking tea?”
Focused on her shoes, Jessica nodded, and then took the cup he offered before he scampered off with another apology.
With her coveted table by the window now occupied by three soldiers, she picked up her tray and spotted another in the far corner of the room, the angle too sharp to see the TV. Oh well. She didn’t need to see the news anyway. She already knew all she needed to know. Her new brigade had shipped out without her, the chain of command claiming she should get more time stateside since she’d only been home a few months before her transfer to Fort Campbell. Her father was disappointed she’d been put in Rear Detachment, refusing to believe it was all about timing and not something she’d done wrong. To him, there was no value in her position. He’d never grasp the need for someone to be on the home front to act as liaison to the families, to support the soldiers who had deployed and to aid the transition for those coming and going overseas.
It was quieter in the corner anyway, away from the crowd. Sliding into the seat, she shoved a straw into her drink and unwrapped her hamburger, glancing at her watch. Half an hour to shove in hot chow and get back to the office before the next briefing.
She reached for her tea as a man slipped into the seat across from hers and laid his hand across the top of the cup. “Don’t drink that.”
Jessica sat back in her seat, trying to keep her jaw from going slack. The blond, blue-eyed soldier was the same man who’d come to her rescue yesterday—and he had to be out of his mind. “Do I know you, Staff Sergeant?”
“No, but trust me.”
Grabbing his wrist, the material of his uniform rough beneath her fingers, she lifted his hand from her drink. After staring down a gun and a knife yesterday, there was no room for fear in the middle of the crowded food court. She didn’t have time for this guy, even if he had saved her life, and even if he possessed the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. This current behavior was out-of-bounds. All she wanted was lunch in peace before an afternoon of listening to a commander who liked to hear his own voice. “Worst pickup line ever. You going to tell me next that I’d be better off going with you for drinks somewhere? That you—”
“Your drink’s spiked.”
“Right.” As a female in a predominantly male world, she’d heard every line in the book. This one not only took the cake, it sliced it and shoved it down her throat. “And you’re James Bond.” She reached defiantly for her sweet tea, but his hand was quicker, drawing the cup to his side of the table.
He couldn’t be serious. “What is your problem?”
But there was no amusement on the man’s face. His mouth pressed into a straight line, and a fairly recent scar ran from his hairline at his temple back toward his ear. It made him menacing. And deadly serious.
He was either telling the truth, or he was crazy and she should wave over one of the military policemen who tended to be around the Post Exchange for a lunch break.
Leaning forward, he slid her drink to the side. “When you’re a female, what’s the first rule you follow? Never let your drink out of your sight.”
“I didn’t.” Who was this guy to lecture her?
“You did. Just long enough for your clumsy friend to dump something in it. I watched him.”
The private at the drink machines? That kid was about as murderous as a toothless toy poodle. “So why didn’t you chase him down?”
“I thought it was more important to keep you from drinking it first. We can pull surveillance video later.”
Jessica wasn’t buying a word of this. Guys like this, fresh back from deployment, feeling lonely... They were trying to find someone to take their minds off things. She glanced down. No ring. At this moment, her blue-eyed “protector” was nothing more than a lonely single soldier looking for a woman any way he could get one. Somehow, he’d been in the right place at the right time yesterday, maybe because he was already watching her. Grasping her tray, she stood, staring him down. “Keep the drink. I don’t need it.”
“Sit down, Staff Sergeant.”
“Goodbye.” She stomped two steps away, but stopped at the sound of his voice.
“Your full name is Jessica Maria Dylan. You were born at Fort Benning, Georgia, to Colonel and Mrs. Eric Dylan. You came to Campbell a few months ago from Fort Lewis, Washington. You’re a medic assigned to First Brigade who didn’t ship out with your unit because you haven’t had enough downtime since your last deployment. On that deployment, you came under fire after your convoy hit an improvised explosive device, but rather than take cover, you went out into the mix and saved two soldiers’ lives. When your commander tried to put you in for a commendation, you fought him until he backed down...reluctantly. Oh, and two weeks ago, your government laptop was stolen.” When she turned, he tilted his head. “Ready to listen?”
No one but her former com
mander knew she’d turned down that commendation. And no one but her current chain of command knew her laptop had been stolen once already. “How did you know all of that?”
“It’s my job to know that...and to protect you.”
Jessica gave up her defiance and sank into her seat, finally deciding to give Staff Sergeant Sean Turner the satisfaction of investigating her drink. She popped the top and glanced inside.
A fine white powder coated the edges of the tea and floated in a sheen across the surface of the liquid. Her hands grew cold, and she shoved the cup away. Her head pounded, threatening nausea. “What’s going on?”
Staff Sergeant Turner scanned the immediate area around them, then pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “These are my orders.”
Jessica scanned the paper, not recognizing his unit name, but picking up that he was pulling temporary duty for an investigation. She folded the paper and stared at the tight creases. “You’re investigating me?”
There was something about his bearing, his attitude. He was Special Forces or deeper. She kept silent, knowing he’d eventually be forced to fill the space with words.
Staff Sergeant Turner pocketed his orders as he lowered his voice. “My unit works to combat groups that hack computers to funnel money and information but who are operating in the physical, as well. Essentially, it’s cybercriminals buried in sleeper cells. We’re deep because there are times the ones we’re investigating are soldiers. We’ve been looking into a series of laptop heists. The theft of your laptop two weeks ago is the first time we’ve seen the first theft and been able to anticipate the second. The interesting thing is, there have been chatter spikes each time. I’ve been watching your machines, and it just so happens our thief came out hot right under my nose yesterday.”
As much as she didn’t want to believe any of this, his knowledge of her past and his orders spoke to the truth. “So what do you need from me?” Jessica laid a hand on the cell phone in her leg pocket. She hadn’t had a chance to turn it over to the MPs yet, and now she wondered if she should.
