by Jax Hunter
When her throat stopped aching and the pain in her chest eased, she turned.
Nic was gone.
Julie hadn’t heard him leave. Just as well. She gathered her things, left Joey’s room without looking back and found Cruz sitting in the kitchen. He didn’t look up when she entered.
“I think I’m ready, Eric.”
“Okay.” Still he didn’t look at her. He merely pushed back from the table and stood. “The Jeep’s out front.”
Nic drove to his favorite spot in Yosemite, a place Joey used to swear had more brookies, or whatever the hell they were, than any place on Earth. A place where you could turn nearly three hundred sixty degrees and never lose sight of towering peaks.
The last time he was here they were the amigos, three of them, out killing a perfectly good day doing absolutely nothing. Together, with a twelve pack of beer.
Joey drowned worms. Hollywood lay out in the sun, perfecting his tan, and Nic leafed through a stack of tactical gear catalogs.
And right here, right now, Nic could almost hear Joey laugh. “Fine,” he’d say, “you guys waste time doing nothing. I’ll catch us some supper.”
Nic’s throat jerked shut on the thought. The past weeks shoved against his chest. Hunched over, he swiped a rock from near his feet and, straightening, hurled it into the distance.
Hell had opened up and swallowed him—the very moment Yoda and Mac had pulled him aside to tell him Amonte was dead. Brimstone had licked at him all through the trip to Germany to pick up the flag-draped casket. But he’d been too numb to feel it.
In Boston, he’d been strong for everyone. Joey’s folks had spoken of true valor. The words echoed with hollowness. Joey’s loss was a waste. Nothing more, nothing less. What the hell good did it do to give your life for your country? The whole point was to make the other poor bastard give his life for his country. And PJs? They were supposed to rescue people, not die in some stupid training accident.
And finally, after what seemed months in Boston, Nic had been free. Time to move on, to forget. Visions of skiing all day and partying all night had taken him to Tahoe. But hell had followed him.
And then he’d seen her. An angel sent to pull him from the fire. And she’d done just that. Helping her had healed him. Hadn’t it? Yet here he stood, staring at El Cap, the pain so overwhelming he couldn’t breathe. And it all crashed in on him, sucker punching him in the gut, doubling him over.
The flight may have been about the same length of time as the last one, but it took an eternity. Cruz said little.
Who could blame him? There was no question where his loyalty lay. Nor should there be. He and Nic were friends, teammates, closer than family. Betraying Nic was betraying them all.
Before leaving her at the airport in Susanville, though, he took her hand and closed it around two crisp hundred-dollar bills and a business card. Was it strange that PJs had business cards? It had the unit insignia embossed in silver and contained the office number as well as Eric’s cell phone and pager numbers.
“Call if you need help.”
Cash in hand, Julie hailed a cab to her folks’ house. How she’d have gotten there without Cruz’s donation to the cause, she didn’t know. And she said she’d pay him when they got there. Who was she kidding?
As the taxi lurched away from the curb, Julie had an insane desire to jump from the moving vehicle and run to the closest friend she had, provided his plane hadn’t left already. But that would have only delayed the inevitable. Besides, there was work to be done.
A plan began forming in her brain even as the taxi hummed down the road. Once she had access to her savings account, she’d find her folks’ car and get it home. Then, there were funeral arrangements to be made. She’d also have to find someone to come in and clean the bedrooms. That she definitely wasn’t up to. Through it all, no doubt, she’d be under the watchful eyes of the man who would sooner kill her than look at her. The only thing to do about that was to face it head on.
Actually, facing a murderer held less fear than facing Nic had. And she’d gotten through that somehow. Having her thoughts take that direction so suddenly brought tears that blurred her vision. When they pulled up in front of her folks’ house, she could barely see to get out of the cab.
With sheer force of will, she took hold of her plastic bags, walked up to the front door, found the spare key she’d only remembered while in jail, and opened the door.
Once inside, she closed the door behind her and locked it. Then, after cleaning up her mom’s broken vase, she proceeded to come undone.
With snowflakes falling faster by the minute, Nic needed to either move or freeze to death. Crappy options. But, with a gut deep sigh, he got to his feet.
His truck nearly drove itself to the Section. It was late afternoon when he wandered into the office. He followed the sound of voices to the day room, where the majority of Bravo Squad lounged in front of the TV watching volleyball on ESPN.
Gabe and Will stretched out in the two recliners. Will was asleep. DQ sprawled on the couch with his legs propped on the coffee table. Beside him was a kid Nic hadn’t met. Right now he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Gabe looked over when Nic walked into the room. “What’s up, D?”
“Nothin’.”
Quillen pushed off the couch. “Nic. How’s it going?”
“Fine, LT.”
“Feeling particularly chatty, I see.” Gabe laughed.
DQ pointed to the kid. “Nic D’Onofrio. Matt Wiley.”
The kid stood and reached to shake Nic’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Nic.”
“Matt.”
A Back Street Boy in a flight suit. He had light brown hair and teen idol looks, except his nose. A slight crook to it confirmed he’d broken it. He belonged on the high school track team, not an elite team like Bravo Squad. Nic caught himself before completely passing judgment on the kid.
Nic expected two stripes—fresh out of the pipeline—but instead the kid wore the stripes of a staff sergeant. Evidently older than he looked. And since this assignment was, next to Alaska, one of the more coveted assignments, he probably was good at what he did.
That he was taking Joey’s place wasn’t his fault.
The only sound in the room was the obnoxious blare of the TV. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his reaction. Well, except for Will, who still slept.
“Welcome. Where’re you from?”
The room exhaled, and everyone resumed their previous relaxed attitude.
“Froze Creek, Colorado. High mountain ranching country.”
“Yeehaw!” Gabe hooted. “Ride em, cowboy.”
Will woke with a start.
The kid grinned at the barb and shook his head.
“For some reason, these guys,” the kid tipped his head in Gabe’s direction, “don’t think it’s important to know how to ride bulls.”
“Imagine that.” Nic finally relaxed. The kid had such a disarming smile it was hard to not like him. “That how you broke your nose? Riding bulls?”
“Three times.”
“Glutton for punishment?”
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Will finally put in his two cents.
“Is Cruz back?” Quillen asked as he recommenced his sprawl.
Nic looked at his watch. “Probably not.”
“You ready to get back to work?”
Obviously, Yoda knew. Yoda always knew everything.
Nic didn’t have time to formulate a response.
“Good. Be in uniform when you come in tomorrow.”
“Hoo-yah, Sir.”
If Julie put this off until later, it would be dark. No use feeding the paranoia. No, now was as good a time as any.
Once she’d stopped sobbing and dragged herself off the floor of the living room, Julie took a deep ragged breath and walked down the hallway. She forced her gaze to the floor and paused long enough at her folks’ and then Jenn’s rooms to pull the doors closed. No need to torture herself any more than necessary. Th
en, she continued to her room, scooped up her backpack and keys, and returned to the kitchen.
The drive to the sheriff’s office took all of three minutes. Had it taken longer, Julie might have backed out.
As luck would have it, the sheriff stood in the reception area looking over paperwork with one of the deputies. Julie bypassed the girl at the front desk.
“Sheriff Raines.”
He turned and smiled, tight lipped. “Miss Galloway. Nice to see you.”
“Sheriff, I need a word with you, please.”
He ambled to the counter, the deputy close behind.
“Sure, what do you need?”
“I think you might prefer to have this conversation in private.”
“Really?”
If there was any question whether there was a difference between a smile and a smirk, Julie had the answer.
“Really.”
He buzzed her back to the offices and led the way. When he didn’t close the door behind her, Julie did.
“Now, what is it, Miss Galloway?”
Julie moved forward, purposely backing him up a bit.
“I know the truth. I know who you are and who you aren’t. I know what you’ve done.”
If her words were having any effect, she couldn’t see it on his face. Maybe his eyes had gotten colder.
“People know I’m here and will be checking in with me regularly. I won’t be committing suicide, and I won’t be having any tragic accidents.” A bit of a bluff, but who was counting?
“I don’t...”
Julie didn’t let him launch into denial. She took another step forward.
“Got it?”
When he didn’t answer, she turned on her heel and walked out, smiling sweetly to both the deputy and the receptionist.
“Have a lovely evening,” she added on her way out the door.
The colonel was walking in as Nic was leaving.
“Good to see you back, Nic.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Mac’s smile faded. “Did things go smoothly back East?”
“As well as could be expected. Joey’s family is pretty torn up, Sir.”
“No doubt. He was a good man. You ready to hop and pop on Friday?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Knock off the sir stuff, Nic, for the moment. Are you really okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Mac slapped him on the shoulder. “Good. See you soon.”
Nic lowered the garage door just as Cruz pulled into the driveway. He pushed the button to open it again.
“Mission accomplished?”
“Yup.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” Cruz slowed, like he was going to say something. The look on his face said it was serious. But then, he grinned. “Let’s go get a beer and pick up chicks.”
Chapter Twenty Five
