Fearless

by Marlie May

  Joe lurched backward, lifting his hands. “Slow down there, sir. You’ve got to be kidding me. We wouldn’t do anything like that to our customers.”

  “Not you necessarily, but someone else who works here.”

  Affront filled Joe’s face. “I screen all my employees well.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I didn’t like accusing him of deliberately harming Ginny. But one of the first things they’d taught me in the military was to vary your behavior. Never leave home at the same time. Never drive the same route. Don’t turn any action a habit.

  Ginny told me she got coffee daily at Mr. Joe’s. If someone wanted to hurt her, doctoring her drink would be easy, because she’d established a routine, one Joe could’ve studied. I wasn’t leaving here until I assured myself Mr. Joe’s had played no role in harming Ginny.

  “Who was this customer?” Joe asked.

  “Ginny Bradley.”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Not our Ginny. She’s a regular here, the sweetest gal.” He blinked down at the counter, his lips curling. “Wait just a sec. I didn’t make her coffee yesterday. Tom did.”

  “Tom?” This had to be a coincidence. Tom was a common name. It couldn’t be the same guy.

  “I hired him a few days ago. Great work experience; his references—”

  “Where is he?” I growled. “I want to talk with him.”

  Joe glanced over my shoulder. “Now, that’s weird. He was just here. Tom? Tom!” Joe barged through the doorway into the room beyond but returned alone. “He’s gone.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t get it. Crew out back said he rushed past them and out the door. Didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back. I looked in the lot, but his vehicle’s gone, too.”

  “Out of curiosity, what kind of car does he drive?”

  Joe narrowed his brow. “Black Toyota Hyundai. With heavily tinted windows. You know how these young fellas are. Feel like they need to hide from the world.”

  Tom would not hide from me. These coincidences were adding up, and they all pointed to Tom Prescott.

  “Thing is,” Joe stroked his beard. “Tom would never do anything like what you’re suggesting. He’s a decent guy. From what he told me, he’s had a hard time of it. Lost his wife, his job with the police department. He deserves a chance. But if he takes off like this, well, he might not have a job at Mr. Joe’s any longer. The point is, what’s his motive for drugging Ginny’s coffee? He’d only wind up in jail. As a former cop, he knows the law.”

  Revenge came to mind immediately. Creeps became stalkers for fewer reasons than a simple rejection. Not that I’d share this information with Joe. I would share it with the sheriff, however. It was time the local law enforcement took Ginny seriously. Tom was playing a game with her, and I wouldn’t let go of this until justice was served.

  “Thank you for the information, Joe,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime.” I’d started to turn when Joe called out, “You tell Ginny I’m thinking about her; hoping she feels better. Tell her to come by again for coffee real soon—on the house. And when I see Tom, I’ll have some tough questions for him.”

  I was willing to bet Tom wouldn’t return to work. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do. Now I only had to figure out his final goal.

  Because it wasn’t just drugging Ginny.

  Since I’d brought limited clothing with me, I needed to hit the laundromat. I dropped my clean things off in my room at the motel after and decided to drive out to the base to see Flint. My father’s place could wait. Forever, if I had any say in it. I didn’t have it in me to go back there yet.

  Parking in front of Bravo Company, I went inside and walked up to the quarterdeck.

  An E3 on watch at the podium looked up. “Help you?”

  “I’m Chief Talon, here to see Senior Chief Crawford.”

  Her brow narrowed, and her professional gaze flicked down my front, assessing. “Can I see an ID, sir?”

  I pulled my wallet and handed the card over.

  She scrutinized it and gave it back. “One moment.” Lifting the phone, she dialed and spoke to someone before hanging up. “He’ll be out in a moment, sir.” After giving me a level stare, she entered my name into the log and returned to the sheath of papers she’d been studying on the podium.

  I strolled over to the door to stare outside while I waited. Cars streamed by on the road beyond the main lot. Three men dressed in camo walked past on the sidewalk, their strides stiff and purposeful.

  “Chief?”

  I turned to find Flint standing in the open doorway leading to a hallway. He waved. “Come on back.”

  I followed him down the hall. Inside his office, Flint shut the door and sat in the chair behind the desk, while I dropped onto the one in front.

  “Glad you took me up on my offer to stop by,” Flint said. He gathered some papers and set them on top of the stack on the side of his desk. “It was great running into you the other day. It’s been a few years since we last hung out, hasn’t it?”

  “Eighteen months.” I explained why I was in town.

  “I’m really sorry about your father.”

  “Thanks.”

  Flint leaned back in his chair and stretched, clasping his hands behind his neck. “Hey, remember that time when we were on leave in Gulfport and we went out to eat at that shack? We drank gallons of beer and chowed through buckets of bugs.”

  Crawfish cooked in spicy sauce. My mouth watered at the memory. Damn, but they’d been good. Nothing compared to authentic Cajun food.

  “After, we went to the casino and had a blast with those slot machines. Damned things were rigged, though, because I couldn’t even break even with nickels.”

  Outside of cribbage, I couldn’t win with any game.

  We laughed and talked about times we’d shared both stateside and overseas then moved on to when we’d been stationed together in California. A few years ago, Flint had been one of my best friends. Shipping out as often as we did made it hard to keep up with everyone. Something I needed to remember with Ginny.

  “You know, it’s great seeing you again,” Flint said. “But I didn’t ask you to stop by just to shoot the shit. I wanted to tell you what I’ve been up to lately and see if it’s something you want to be a part of.” He lifted a pencil off the desk and flipped it end-over-end, studying the movement. “You know I’m out other than the Reserves.”

  I scratched my jaw. “I was surprised you quit. You’ve got twelve years in already.” No one dropped out at this stage in their career. Who wanted to trade eight short years and a steady retirement income for the uncertainty of civilian life?

  “I’ll get my time in this way.” He flicked his hand at his desk.

  Leaning on my chair arm, I studied his face. Like whenever we played poker, it gave nothing away. “Tell me about the…recreational drones.”

  Flint chuckled. “Saw through that, did you?” He leaned forward, eager. “Nothing beats blowing things up for a living.”

  I did love C-4.

  “My new business will offer something no one else can.”

  “In particular?”

  “Think MacGyver meets James Bond, without the clichés. We’ll still work for the government but on the civilian side. Testing new weapons, drones, whatever they throw my way.”

  “R & D, huh?” How cool that must be.

  “Thought you might want in, too,” Flint said. “There isn’t anyone I’d trust more than you. Or Eli for that matter. I intend to give him a call, see if he’s interested.”

  “I believe he will be.” Eli had griped about his security job. It paid a decent wage but providing guard duty at a hardware store wasn’t anything close to what Flint was offering. “He’s working all kinds of hours lately. They’re short-staffed after one of the guys got hurt.”

  “I’ll text him. Tell him to stop by when things are settled.”

  Eli would be all over this. As for me…I couldn’t say. The idea was tempti
ng but it would mean leaving the service, something I wasn’t prepared to consider.

  “So, just military testing?” I asked.

  “Protection of personnel and assets, as well.” Flint shrugged. “We’ll provide the same services as the government or police, but on a smaller scale.”

  “Like babysitting visiting dignitaries?”

  “Not quite.” He chuckled. “And mostly overseas. We took martial arts classes together in Port Hueneme. I imagine you’ve kept at it like I have. And we trained with the Marines in close quarters combat while we were stationed in North Carolina. Our skills will only be enhanced by this job.” He chuckled. “Fuck, I’ll be a happy man if no one asks me to crawl a mile through swampland ever again.”

  If Flint’s memory of those days at Camp Lejeune were the same as mine, he was filled with a mix of shit-I-can’t-believe-they-made-us-do-that and admiration for the skills those tough Marines displayed.

  Flint steepled his fingers under his chin. “I’m transferring that training into civilian life. It’s a chance to get out from underneath the government’s beck and call. I choose what I do and where I go, now.”

  This wasn’t a bad idea, really. A soldier, especially a Seabee, worked closely with the Marines. In addition to the construction aspects, he needed to train not only in multiple weapons but in defensive and offensive maneuvers. Transitioning those skills to the private sector could be turned into a decent career.

  “You want in on this?” Flint asked. “I’ve got a few people lined up already but I know you’ll fit in with my crew. Hell, if you’ve got some money to throw in, you might be interested in joining me as a full partner. I bought a building, top of the line equipment. Contracts are rolling in already due to Commander Rhodes.”

  Our former C.O.

  “Sid’s around?”

  “Retired but he’s still got his fingers in all the pies. Since I hired his daughter, Becca, he’s eager to see me succeed.”

  I’d saved most of my wages over the past twelve years. Housing and meals were provided on the base. Chow hall food wasn’t top cuisine, but I wasn’t picky. There wasn’t much to spend my money on, since I wasn’t into flashy cars or vacations.

  If I was closer to retirement, this offer would be beyond tempting. But my need to finish something, to give my twenty years, had driven me since I left Crescent Cove after graduation. How could I consider bailing on that goal now?

  “I’m deploying soon,” I said. “Middle East.”

  “You’ll be back.”

  “Not for three months.” I clenched my hands on the arms of my chair. The urge to say yes battled with the need I’d lived with for twelve years. I had to stay in. Not just to prove to my father that I had the guts, but to prove something to myself.

  Flint’s phone rang. “Excuse me a sec.” He lifted the receiver. “Master Chief?” Listening, he nodded. “Okay, sure. Be right there.” As he hung up, his green eyes met mine. “I’ve got to go help a few new guys out with Seahuts. They’re doing an exercise this week and can’t figure out how to put the damn things together.”

  I stood. With limited time, I needed to get back to my father’s place, even if the urge to drive there still hadn’t returned. I extended my hand across the desk and we shook. “It was great seeing you.”

  “You, too. And, about joining me in my new business? You don’t need to decide right now. My offer’s open indefinitely.”

  This idea didn’t fit into my life plan. Except, it would bring me closer to Ginny. Maybe I should think seriously about Flint’s offer. If I could wrap my mind around the thought of quitting.

  Flint walked outside with me. “I’m this way.” He gestured in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “You’ve got my number. Call me anytime.”

  “Will do.”

  After a friendly smack on my shoulder, Flint strode away.

  Studying the ground—my thoughts ricocheting around with the possibility Flint had presented—I walked to my car. I sat in the hot vehicle for a long while, wondering what I should do but came to no decision. Shoving aside Flint’s offer for now, I drove into town. The second floor of my father’s place awaited me.

  Before I went inside Dad’s place, I called Ginny. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “Okay. Tired and a little sore.”

  “I was thinking.” This might be pushing things but it ate me alive every time I thought about how vulnerable she was. “Why don’t you stay with me at my hotel?” Where I could watch out for her. Protect her.

  “That’s a generous offer.”

  More than an offer. I wished I owned a place where I could hide her inside. Then, no one could harm her. Like a fortress with state-of-the-art protection. High walls. Around-the-clock security guards.

  Ginny continued, “I just put in the best security system money can buy.”

  Even if she stayed at my hotel, I’d be away all day. She’d be alone with only a flimsy door separating her from Tom. I sighed, realizing she might actually be safer locked behind her new security system. “Okay.” No reason I couldn’t check out what she’d had installed and make sure it met my standards.

  “I appreciate it, though,” her soft words broke through my worry.

  “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

  “I know you would.”

  After we ended the call, I sighed. Nothing would make me happier than seeing this situation settled. I needed to be confident that no one would threaten Ginny again. Frustration surged through me, because there wasn’t anything I could do. I’d have to trust she was safe inside her apartment.

  And I really needed to finish cleaning out my father’s place, or I’d have to hire someone to do it for me. I was determined to close the door on this part of my life before I left.

  I sat on the front step and ate a sandwich, washing it down with bottled water. Because I couldn’t resist, I pulled my phone and sent Ginny a text, Hey. Miss you already.

  <3 Miss you, too.

  Hell, if I was at her apartment, I’d show her how much I missed her. And then start all over again. Everything still going okay? The most delicate way I could think of asking if she was safe. If only I could keep her securely inside my arms 24/7.

  I just finished taking some dog photos. That pup was so cute!

  I loved dogs, too. Are you a little or a big dog person?

  Can I say both?

  A tiny dog and a really big dog at the same time would be a fun mix. I’d always wanted to get one, but deployments weren’t fair to a pet. A few friends might be willing to take the animal for a week or two but otherwise, I’d have to board it. Cats were more independent, but they still needed love and care.

  I could get Ginny a dog, though, something big and protective. Or a small, alert dog for her to cuddle. Or both. Maybe we could go to the shelter together and pick a few dogs out. A pack that would take down an intruder.

  Oh! I’ve got to go, she texted. My next client is here for pictures.

  I thought you were taking the day off?

  I couldn’t reschedule this one. But it won’t take long. I promise to lie down after.

  I wasn’t sure how far I dared take this. I had no right to tell her what to do. But my insides were a mess. I worry about you all the time.

  A moment went by, and I wished I could see her face so I’d know what she was thinking. Damn, hopefully I hadn’t offended her.

  Thank you.

  I could almost hear the sigh in her words. It wrapped around me like a soft blanket. I’ll see you soon? I texted.

  It’s never too soon.

  That stilled my heart.

  I smiled, happier than I’d felt for a long time. And even though I wanted to race over to Ginny’s place and show her how she made me feel, she was busy. Hell, I should get busy, too.

  After putting away my phone, I entered the house. Echoes of happier times chased me across the worn living room carpet, up the front stairs, and into my old bedroom on the right off the landing. Had
my father been inside this room since I left? The dusty bureau and spider webs draped across the ceiling suggested he hadn’t.

  Taking one of the empty boxes, I began the task of dismantling my boyhood. The old clothing in the closet and bureau went first; none of it worth more than rags. Piles of marked-up school work, notebooks filled with scribbles, and a few antique textbooks were loaded into the second and third boxes.

  I ripped my dusty old bedding off my twin bed, stuffed it into a garbage bag, and tossed it down the stairs. My teddy bear, fur gone in places and missing one button eye, was thrown in with the school rubble along with a few CDs I’d never listen to again. Board games. Puzzles. All piles of useless junk, not a bit of it worth shipping home to California.

  The late-day sunlight filtering through the window sparkled on something, snagging my attention. I stomped across the room and stood over the mess.

  Ahh. This sliced through my belly. But I rubbed where it pinched most, my chest.

  The glass menagerie Mom had helped me collect through my childhood lay in fragments on the floor between the bureau and the radiator.

  Her warm smile when she presented me with another figurine for my birthday crept across my soul. The first—a solemn basset hound—when I’d turned three. For my seventh birthday, she’d given me a lion, its head tilted back, its mane flowing along its neck. A gangly, spotted giraffe for my tenth. At twelve—and longing to finally be considered a man—I’d cringed when she’d given me the pony.

  With a soft groan, I collapsed to my knees. I brushed at the scattered pieces. There wasn’t enough glue in the world to put them back together again.

  Where was my phoenix?

  My fingers traced the tattoo inspired by the figurine.

  A few days after Mom’s funeral, I’d found the wrapped box resting on her bureau where her own hands had placed it. A card taped to the top opened to a free-hand drawn heart, my name, and hers.

  My thirteenth birthday fell the day after that car swerved into her lane and took her. I’d barely drummed up the nerve to tell her I was too old to collect glass animals anymore.