Dixie Under Siege (A Warrior's Passion Book 2)

by Natasza Waters

  Took a few months before he’d taken ownership of his mistake. A rash impulse to hurt her because she’d slaughtered him. But what he’d just revealed to Dix about him letting her go only came later, when his heart stopped aching.

  Three hundred and fifty million people in the US. What were the chances he’d run into her again?

  He watched Dixie back out of her parking space, roll down the alley, and turn onto the street before he returned to his truck.

  Without the moon, he didn’t see the paper under his windshield wiper until he reached the truck. Ten guesses and the first nine didn’t count. He flipped the sheet open.

  “Stay away from her. She belongs to me.”

  The guy must have a discount at Staples. Josh laughed out loud, in case her stalker was still around, then opened the driver’s door while taking a survey of hidey holes in the back lane. One thing was for certain, the asshole knew Dixie’s routine already.

  Josh got behind the wheel and started the engine, then called Lt. Elijah Bach on his Bluetooth.

  “Hey, Josh. Late call,” his buddy stated.

  Shifting the truck into drive, he slowly headed down the pitted, gravel roadway. “I’ve got the stalker’s attention.”

  “You know this because?”

  “He left a note on my windshield. I followed Dix when she closed shop.”

  “Note addressed to her or you?”

  “Warned me to stay away from her.” A chuckle sounded on the other side of the line, as well as movement of crisp bed sheets. “Wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

  “If I’m anywhere in arm’s reach of Rayne, ah, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “She’s on duty with Nina tomorrow. Ditz is going to pick up Dixie’s video from the shop and they’ll review it at Base Command. Rayne’s worried. She asked me if Dix could stay with us. I don’t have a problem with that. We have plenty of room.”

  Ditz was Alpha Squad’s communications expert. Josh had quickly been impressed. The man could remotely reprogram a nuclear sub if he wanted. The special operators in Alpha Squad were top tier SEALs. Some faces had changed since Thane Austen was their commander, but the original squad, including Mace Callahan and Tony “Tinman” Bale, who weren’t active in the field anymore, were a tight-knit band of brothers.

  “Thank Rayne for the offer, but not necessary.”

  “Figured you’d be pulling private frogman duty. I spoke with Alpha Squad today. They want to help. What’s your plan?”

  Turning the steering wheel, Josh swung a right onto the street and a quick right onto Orange Avenue. “After this many years of being tracked, Dix has to be at the end of her rope. I want to put her mind at ease. If I’m already gettin’ love letters from this piece of crap, won’t be long till he makes a move.”

  Elijah paused, then said, “You sure Dixie’s stress isn’t about seeing you, buddy? Think your ex is still harboring a little ill will. Rayne told me she ended up with a full metal jacket of harassment from her family when you split your hometown.”

  “We were kids, for fuck’s sake. Besides, I apologized to Dix.”

  Elijah chuckled like he knew better. “I’m here to tell ya, one apology is not enough.”

  Rayne suddenly came on the phone. “He’s right. Dixie is still steaming over you up and leaving without a word, sir.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Thank you for that confirmation, Miss Levy.”

  He found it more than odd that his best friend was shacked up with one of Base Command’s tactical analysts. A woman who fell under Josh’s command. The guy was head over heels for the young gal the teams called Cricket. Wouldn’t be long until he’d be standing next to his friend in church, providing Eli wanted him as best man.

  Josh wove his way toward Coronado Bridge. The traffic light at this time of night.

  “Nina’s really worried too,” Rayne added.

  Nina Callahan. He gnashed his teeth. The bane of his friggin’ existence. If the woman wasn’t so god damn good at her job, he would have transferred her after the first week he’d taken Ghost’s command at NAB. But, he wasn’t a total fool. Josh understood why the SpecOp guys thought she walked on water, but he and Mace Callahan’s wife continually butted heads. What irritated him more was when it came to tactical analysis, she knew her shit. Little Creek, Virginia, where he’d last been stationed, had their own Base Command but it was one hundred percent male operators.

  “Miss Levy, you can assure Nina that I’ll find this guy.”

  “What if he wants to hurt Dixie? Don’t leave her alone,” Cricket fired back.

  The SEALs liked Rayne. She’d been hired while Josh was away on a special project. Although still green, she took her job seriously, and with the other talented staff at the Command Center, she had plenty of mentors.

  “Please assist Mrs. Callahan tomorrow when the video arrives from Dixie’s shop.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, Cricket. Now, can you put Elijah back on the phone?”

  “Right here, Commander,” Eli said after the cell changed hands.

  “Do me a favor and keep the fairer sex off my backside. It’s bad enough I have to deal with Mace’s fire-breathing dragon at work.”

  Elijah chuckled. “What’s a matter, man? Something got your chauvinistic nuts in a clamp?”

  “You’re a fuckin’ riot. I want to concentrate on how I’m going to catch this bastard bothering Dix.”

  “Yeah, well, if you don’t, she can always move again.”

  A barb of uncertainty sprang into action. “She’s not moving!” No way would he let her run. She’d done enough of that.

  The sound of a body shifting and the barest of sighs told Josh this convo was wrapping up.

  “Listen, Commander. We’ll get this guy. In the meantime, Rayne wants you and Dixie to come over for our housewarming party this weekend.”

  “Sure. I’ll be there to help christen that white picket fence you’ve built around your ass. I can’t force Dix to come, but I’ll ask.”

  Elijah chuckled. “I’ll give ya a paint brush and you can kiss my ass, Frog.”

  Josh disconnected the call just as he hit the Coronado Bridge. Glancing in his rearview mirror to see if he had a tail, he noted a few headlights followed. Changing into the left lane, he took the off-ramp for the freeway westbound.

  His stomach growled, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten in ten hours. Using voice command, he called a Chinese food joint he liked to haunt. The owner answered in her recognizable singsong accent.

  “Evening, Mrs. Ling. It’s Josh Hunter. I’m lookin’ to pick up some grub.”

  “Ahhh, Commanda SEAR. You wan numba fo-teen?”

  “Please, but throw in an order of broccoli and beef, would ya?”

  “You bet. You got a date? Should bring her here. I make dinner for you.”

  He chuckled at her comment. Mrs. Ling was a sweetheart and didn’t mind sharing her thoughts on his bachelor status. In her sixties, the woman already had several grandchildren she adored. Mrs. Ling also didn’t mind letting him know she had seven daughters and the youngest was very available.

  “Maybe I will, Mrs. Ling, but tonight my girl is tired.”

  “Ooooooh,” she cooed in a high-pitched tone. “You got steady girfriend? That’s good.” She paused for a second. “You betta marry her!”

  Shifting into the right lane, he took Exit 19, then slowed to stop for a red light. “What makes you think I want to marry anyone, Mrs. Ling?”

  A brief burst of Cantonese interrupted their call. The restaurant owner was like a whirlwind of energy, shouting orders to staff. Seating guests and manning the till.

  “You marry a good woman. She take care of you,” the proprietress said, returning to their call.

  When the green-means-go light glared down at him, he accelerated then took a left, traveling the street that crossed under the freeway.

  He chuckled. “She’s an old friend.”

  “Aww, go on. You marry her, and I cater the wed
ding.”

  Josh waited for two cyclists to cross the intersection. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. Ling. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  After picking up his order and going another round with the middle-aged powerhouse with traditional family values on the miracle of marriage, he got back on the road.

  The mouth-watering aroma of Chinese food filled the cab and made his stomach grumble with impatience. Skirting the tourist area of Old Town, he reduced speed and drove along a street lined on either side with nice homes. Dixie had rented a tiny bungalow just east of Old Town. A neighborhood with trimmed hedges and palm trees dotting the sidewalks. Manicured front yards without motorcycles parked on the lawns or bars over the windows, indicated an area of middle-class folks. A mix of new architecture and old, post-war, white-washed stucco homes with adobe roofs, fronted each lot.

  Slowing down, he turned into her driveway. He nudged the nose of his truck to Dixie’s dated BMW back bumper.

  Josh surveyed the area once he’d gotten out, waiting for any cars to show.

  Nada.

  The front room lights shined through the window, revealing the interior of the small home. He sighed. “Close the damn drapes, woman.”

  He knocked once on the front door and turned the knob.

  Dix met him in the tiny entry, only big enough to turn around in.

  “Shoes off,” she instructed and took the take-out bags from his hands.

  “I didn’t just run the ‘O’ course, Dix. Need to keep them on in case your anonymous lover shows up.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled and headed for what he suspected was the kitchen.

  The place smelled like coffee, leather, and something a little spicy, the last part probably being Dixie. Before following her, he stopped and closed the fabric drapes over the front window.

  “Ling’s Emporium,” she said, reading the bags as he wandered into the brightly painted kitchen with white cupboards and appliances. A small, wooden dining table, big enough for two, sat next to a window facing the backyard.

  “Great chow,” he confirmed.

  “You eat out a lot?”

  He shrugged. “Not exactly fond of cooking. Easier to eat at the base or grab take-out.” Josh joined her at the table, where she’d set two plates and cutlery.

  “What do you want to drink? I’ve got juice, water…” She shifted to the fridge and opened the door. “Can of Dr. Pepper and one can of Coke.”

  “Water’s fine, thanks.”

  She poured two glasses from a counter-top filtration system and added ice.

  “Smells good,” she said, depositing a glass by his plate.

  He opened the broccoli and beef container and tipped it her way. “Healthy enough for you?”

  She snorted. “I’m starving. I’d eat anything.”

  All day he’d been struck with flashbacks, especially one evening in particular. Him and Dixie in his parents’ barn.

  He’d just finished feeding the family’s six horses and was sweeping the breezeway. At the time, Dixie worked after school, cleaning the local Baptist church where her father preached.

  She’d strolled through the open barn doors, the June sun setting behind her. White cut-off shorts gripped her curvy hips, showing a hint of her tanned, taut stomach, and she wore an off-the-shoulder blouse. With Dixie’s long, dark hair cascading past her shoulders in soft waves, she captured the image of sweet and sexy, and owned his heart.

  The early summer evening sweltered with heat. He’d taken his shirt off to work. When they’d laid eyes on one another, the air crackled between them.

  Teenage hormones sprinted into the red zone when she’d stopped inches from him, her defined chin tilted upward and her pretty green eyes glued to his body. Dix had always made him feel good about himself.

  Until that night, they’d kissed and touched, but something broke in that moment. Why wait? Least, that’s what he’d thought.

  Dix’s hormones must have whispered in her ear too, because she’d blown his mind. Backing her into a bed of hay in an empty stall was all the privacy they needed to get naked. Tracing her soft skin with his fingertips ripped reality from under his feet. Her full breasts filled his palms and he loved her moans of pleasure when he teased her nipple. Every touch came natural to them. But man, when his tongue traced her sweet pussy for the first time, she’d lost it—and so had he.

  Even now, the heat they’d shared soared back with vivid color and sensation.

  “Josh?”

  “Huh.”

  He focused his attention on the adult version of his teenage fantasy.

  “I said, are we going to eat or are you going to stare at me all night?”

  “Right. Sorry.” After dishing out the food equally onto their plates from all the containers, he finally got his first mouthful. Flavorful without the grease. “Mrs. Ling wants me to bring you by for dinner sometime.”

  Dix nodded while tasting the curried vegetables. After washing some down with water, she said, “It’s seriously good food.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  The fork was halfway to her lips when she stalled and eyed him, then lowered her cutlery. “I have my business. Long hours. You offered to help catch my stalker. There’s no strings attached to this arrangement, Josh.”

  “Nobody said anything about strings.”

  He concentrated on the food instead of her gentle dismissal. After all this time, he had to question the ravenous desire that swirled to life when he’d seen her again.

  He’d done his fair share of jumping from bed to bed in his twenties. The last three years in Little Creek he’d been with the same woman. Gorgeous. Intelligent. A commissioned officer in the Navy. The arrangement worked for both of them. Josh enjoyed her company when they’d happened to be in town at the same time. Once notified of his new command appointment at NAB, he’d asked Gesem, short for Gethsemane, to join him out west. She’d been offered a post as a captain, an opportunity she’d been waiting for, so they’d parted ways.

  After a few minutes of silence while he and Dix ate their dinner, he glanced across the small table to see her watching him.

  “How are your parents?” she asked.

  He lifted one shoulder. “Getting older. Surrounded by grandkids.”

  “Do you have children?”

  He nearly choked on a chunk of bok choy. “Until recently, I was gone nine months of the year. Deployments. Missions. Not exactly father material.”

  Dix sat back against her chair. “Lots of you Navy Special Operators have families.”

  He raised a brow. “How would you know that?”

  A crease formed on her forehead. “Ever heard of the internet? Plenty of information on it.”

  “Plenty of bullshit, too.”

  She sighed. “True.” Dix pushed her plate aside and folded her hands on the table. “It’s hard to believe you didn’t marry.”

  “Look who’s talkin’,” he fired back.

  Dix shrugged, then piled their plates. “Didn’t really stick around in one place to…”

  A thunk and bloodcurdling scream had him on his feet, headed toward the front door. When he heard the chair’s legs scuff over the floor tiles, he ordered, “Stay there.”

  Josh kept to the wall and lowered his profile. When he reached the living room, he turned off the lights and approached the right side of the curtain, shifting the fabric to look outside. No movement. Could be two cats fighting, but the yowl sounded more like agony. Shifting his position to the front door, he grabbed the knob, but paused.

  “For the love of God, Josh, this isn’t the Middle East. Open the door.”

  Dix had snuck up and stood right behind him. “Did I not tell you to wait in the kitchen?”

  She scoffed at his rebuke. He twisted the knob and slowly pulled the front door open. It didn’t take much to see what had caused the cat’s distress.

  “Oh, that’s disgusting,” Dix hissed.

  An orange tabby hung from the door, a blade dr
iven through its chest and into the wood. There was also another note.

  Chapter Four

  Blood soaked the tabby’s orange and white fur where Dixie’s stalker had impaled the poor animal. Josh leaned closer to read the note.

  Send him away.

  “That’s my neighbor’s cat.” Dixie took a step back. “Take it down. I’ll bury it in the backyard.”

  Dix grew up on a ranch, like him. Both their families raised livestock. Living off the land meant kids learned about life and death at an early age. Regardless that this was a decisive act of violence, Josh was impressed that she didn’t lose her mind.

  With a tug, he withdrew the knife and cradled the cat in the crook of his left arm. Dixie removed the note. Where the knife had penetrated the white paper, blood turned the sheet into a morbid inkblot.

  A shudder of a memory replaced the feline with the bloody body of a little girl, no more than five years old.

  A village in the Sar-e-Pul Province. He’d been a lieutenant of SEAL Team 6 Red Squad then. The Taliban had swept through with a merciless attack, murdering women and children. Beheading the men. His squad had arrived on scene too late to save the locals. They’d combed the adobe buildings, but the militants had already fled. His comm man received orders from their commander to depart. Josh had disobeyed. Delayed their exfil. Instead, he ordered his men to bury the dead.

  He had cradled the dead child in his arm until the squad’s sniper dug a hole in the parched earth. She had no mother or father to grieve for her. They’d also died a violent death. Josh knelt and placed the girl into the sand and gravel grave, then covered her face with the dirt-streaked scarf she wore over her brunette hair.

  As a SEAL, he’d been trained to the highest standards. His missions taught him life was as insubstantial as the flame of a candle. In an instant, it could be extinguished.

  Taking the shovel from his CPO, he’d filled the grave.

  “Josh.” Dixie’s delicate fingers squeezed his forearm. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah. You got a shovel?”

  “There’s a shed out back. Think I saw one when I moved in. I’ll find it.”

  He stepped onto the porch. “Stay in the house. I’ll bury the animal.” He handed Dix the blade. “Bag the knife, I’ll give it to Lt. Manchester tomorrow.”