Defend Her: A military suspense romance (Aussie Military Romance Book 4)

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  Fuck, Ed didn’t need or want the look of guilt Vaughan now wore.

  “It’s my fault?”

  “Sir, we all fucked up but our training enabled us to regroup and attack.”

  “I know, I know. I keep blaming you when I should be blaming myself.”

  “There’s enough blame to go around. We should have set up a code word in texts to confirm who was sending any message.”

  Vaughan played with the steak. Stabbing without making any attempts to slice it into mouthfuls.

  “It’s not just the operation, it this thing between you and my daughter. I didn’t like it at the time, and now?”

  Finally, a question Ed could answer. “I haven’t given up. She’s out of hospital and at some point, she’ll contact you.”

  “Anastacia deserves better than an army soldier like her father.”

  “And if she finds better, I’ll wish her a long and happy life. But I know what we had and I’m not giving up.”

  “All emotions forged in the heat of the battle—the stress of living together and thinking that today could be your last,” Vaughan’s opposition was weakening.

  “You asked me to defend her, I did. Almost cost me my life and probably my career.” Ed had only given minimal details back at the office, protecting his team and Vaughan’s involvement. He’d been offered a deal to name names, but he even went as far as avoiding any mention of “the girl’s” relationship to Vaughan. All responsibility and ramifications rested with Ed. A small price to pay to defend Anastacia, Vaughan and the men and women who’d put their own lives and careers on the line. The price of being Lieutenant Colonel—live by the sword and have his career die by the sword.

  “I heard.” Damn, he wanted to tell Vaughan in his own way, get their stories straight. “What would you do if you have to leave the army?”

  “Take your daughter away on a year-long honeymoon,” Ed answered instinctively. It had been the only goal worth living for. Preferable if her father gave his consent.

  “Have you asked her?” At least Vaughan was smiling, the old bastard might be mellowing.

  “Hard to ask her when she won’t talk to me.”

  ANASTACIA

  “There you go, love. Let me know if you need anything,” the old woman barely shuffled her way back to the musty office, leaving Anastacia outside a storage unit she’d never seen.

  The lock came apart easily, and luckily the light switch was easy to find, illuminating a dozen or so packing crates behind her old dining suite. What did he do with my bed?, Anastacia started to think before shaking her head. Why would she want her old bed that could only remind her of the life she’d run away from? Although the wooden posts had been hand-carved and months later, she still couldn’t go to sleep without missing the smell of the old cedar.

  She’d arrived shortly after breakfast, borrowing Bella’s car and expecting to be back well and truly in time to hide from her friend’s luncheon guests. There were crates she remembered packing before leaving Romania and Hudson. But half of the crates must have been boxed up by his staff.

  Old dinner set and crap in familiar handwriting on a wooden box. A quick glance inside and Anastacia’s fears started coming true—her grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old china dinner set hadn’t survived being thrown into the crate. She could almost imagine the fun their old staff would have had hearing the disintegration of plates and cups flung around with distain. A dinner set that had survived coming to Australia by boat and usually individually hand wrapped within sheets of newspaper and bubble-wrap lay at the bottom of a crate. The only comfort she could find was that her grandmother would prioritize Anastacia’s life over crockery.

  The one box she knew would be here somewhere had been pushed to the side, almost crushed underneath larger boxes of her clothes. Anastacia lugged the clothes towards the front, at least some of them could go with her.

  Fighting her way through spider webs to the back of the storage container, the fragile cardboard box opened to reveal her old friends. Almost four dozen of her favorite childhood books that she’d clung to and relied on to give her a sense of security every time her father’s career took them somewhere new. Half-way down to one side, she spied the familiar spine. She didn’t expect the welling of tears as she reclaimed the same book that Ed had read to her in hospital. Even now, she could hear that calming tone that had made her feel so safe and secure. Never realizing he was reading one of her favs. So many books in this old box were in Ed’s home. Just another sign she had taken to say they were perfect together.

  Yeah, right, she thought. So perfect, it nearly cost me my life.

  Deep down, she knew it wasn’t fair to keep blaming Ed—after all, she’d put them all in this situation by getting involved with Hudson in the first place. Then not double checking when her gut instinct warned her about her father’s text. She should have asked him a question—give the responder a chance to warn her that she’d be walking into a trap.

  Her heart wanted to forgive Ed, embrace him and move on with their lives—but with fresh bruises covering her torso and the constant ringing in her head, it wasn’t that easy to forget. Maybe if her nightmares eased, she could start thinking about a new life or at least a new start.

  Right now, she needed to find out if there was anything in the storage unit that could be sold. She desperately needed to find enough money for bond to rent a place of her own, possibly a second-hand car. But crate after crate showed old mementoes of a life well lived and travelled. Not even the box of old photographs were worth anything. All the international signatories who had graced their home—from the shyest of royalty to the most arrogant chauvinistic of businessmen.

  Each man wanted a photograph taken to remember the occasion and Hudson’s staff ensured each one was displayed in the same thin rimmed, plain gold frame. Anastacia would have given serious money to find out if the frames had been purchased in bulk. Looking back now, all she could remember was which men had their hand on her ass or around her waist. Assholes. Never again would she put her life in the hands of men.

  Still, there was one photo she hoped had survived and hadn’t been destroyed by Hudson’s jealousy.

  Marcus Redmond! One of Hollywood’s top actors and her secret crush. Marcus had been on location in Italy when Hudson invited him for a “home cooked dinner” as her birthday surprise. Not that it didn’t get him a lot of respect with the local staff. When Marcus looked at her with those deep-set green eyes underneath a long, blonde fringe, she’d been so mesmerized it didn’t matter that she paid the price for her lustful thoughts later. What were bruises when for a couple of hours, she felt like the only woman in Marcus’ world.

  Holding the frame, at first, Anastacia didn’t notice the slip of paper float to the ground. If she hadn’t recognized the handwriting, she would have probably tossed it away. Except the series of numbers must have meant something to Hudson.

  But what?

  Anastacia crammed the framed photo of Marcus and the book Ed had read to her inside her shoulder bag, still holding onto the piece of paper. The wrong type of numbers for a phone number. Her mind kept going to one place—bank account?

  If the first six digits was a Bank-State-Branch number, then she recognized it as a local bank and a New South Wales branch. But how and why? They hadn’t been back to Australia except for a month after they got married; that was years before Hudson got involved in the questionable deals that got him “moved on.” Or was it?

  Had her husband always been the man she ran away from and never truly the man she married?

  The thoughts came crushing down around her, and Anastacia tried to focus on the boxes. Nothing of resale value, but at least she could feel more like herself in familiar jeans and sweaters, maybe go hiking with her old backpack and wear her old boots that had adjusted to her foot shape years ago.

  Yes, coming here today was the perfect antidote to trying to find herself again. She needed, in a way, to go back in time and find herself before sh
e could work out what belonged in her future, and what didn’t.

  The boxes of clothes had to fit around the box of childhood books. She was never going to be parted from them again.

  “He keeps ringing.” Bella greeted her in the driveway as she waved her luncheon guests goodbye. Anastacia didn’t have to ask who Bella was talking about—she had a fangirl look across her face any time she even thought about Ed. In her darkest moments, she wondered whether her friendship with Bella could be sustained if she and Ed hooked up? Probably not, she decided. But they both deserved to be happy and Edison-fucking-Alexander was in her past. Truly, he was.

  “I hope you had a nice chat, has he asked you out yet?”

  “Can I at least tell him you are here with me—he wants to know that you are safe. In any case, its where your father thinks you are, so all I’d be doing is confirming their suspicion.”

  “Fine, tell him.”

  “He’ll want to talk to you.”

  Anastacia meant to pull out the photo frame to distract Bella, but instead her hand wrapped around the book. One little conversation couldn’t hurt—especially if she could explain to him that their timing was all off. She couldn’t see herself falling in love with anyone else—but loving Ed wasn’t the same as being able to live with what they’d done.

  But, she thought, if they talked then she’d be tempted to ask about what happened to Hudson. A truth she didn’t want to know in case the guilt was heavier than her relief.

  “Staci? What if he wants to talk to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Before she could change her mind or find refuge back in her room, Bella’s phone was ringing on speaker.

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” Ed’s husky voice was even more pronounced when she couldn’t see him.

  “Staci is here with me, she’s safe and healing nicely but doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Anastacia, baby, please?” he begged. “You must be standing there, otherwise Bella wouldn’t have me on speaker. Say something so I know it’s true.”

  “I’m here,” she said, not intending to break her vow. “I’m fine.”

  “Your father loves you so very much—even if you can’t talk to or forgive me, can you at least reach out to him?”

  Damn it, the man she loved was putting her father first. “How is he?”

  “I’d say he’s struggling but you know Vaughan. He’s a proud man and they took away his dignity in that warehouse. He tried so hard to protect you, but they were able to unlock his phone using information from his personal assistant. She betrayed you—not your father.”

  “I never blamed him.” Yet she had punished her father as much, if not more, than she punished Ed.

  “Can I tell him that you’ll call? Or at least make contact through Bella?”

  “Sure,” her voice broke. This was a mistake—she couldn’t resist Ed in person or by phone.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked after a pause that neither of them had been able to end by hanging up.

  “That I couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with a man that could do whatever you had to do back there.”

  “I did it all for you, to save you.”

  “No,” she cried with her suppressed feelings breaking free. “I watched you back at your place and you enjoyed every minute of playing soldier. You were in your element.”

  “I’m good at my job—or at least I’m usually good at my job.”

  “Really, that’s all I was to you?” She didn’t expect him to admit it so easily.

  “Bloody hell, Staci—have you really forgotten everything? The ball? The restaurant? That night?”

  “Think of it as payment in advance. I’m done.”

  Looking to Bella, she shook her head and started to lug the first box up to the house.

  Whatever future she and Ed might have shared, it had been left lying on the cement floor in the warehouse—in her blood.

  A single kiss

  ANASTACIA

  A month after her second attack, Anastacia could finally leave the safety of Bella’s fortress without a debilitating panic attack. The yoga techniques from Breeze helped reduce the severity, but she still couldn’t bring herself to be around people. Even the thought of contacting her father who might mention the warehouse or “that night,” gave her stabbing chest pains.

  Not that she could tell anyone.

  Dr Stanwell had wanted her to speak to “someone,” but that was weeks ago. Tilly had called a couple of times and offered to come out to the house, but each time, Anastacia cancelled at the last minute.

  Bella had left her alone for the last two weeks, needing to travel for work but that hadn’t stopped her from trying to get her to move on, including reaching out to her father.

  Today was the first day of the rest of her life and when Bella got home after lunch, Anastacia had the biggest surprise. Hours online searching and forcing herself to engage a lawyer had led to this day. Taking control and looking forward to the future was something that was as scary as exhilarating.

  “Ms Vaughan, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” Tom Russell’s online profile didn’t do him justice. If she’d even had a hint of his smoldering looks, Anastacia would have picked a different lawyer.

  “Please call me Staci, thank you for making time to get this sorted.”

  She tried not to notice the dark curls framing his tanned face. Probably from weekday tennis or golf? “You surf?” she guessed.

  “Only every chance I get—you?”

  “Not even a chance!” she laughed, surprised at how easily this whole “being with people” could be. “I get sunburnt if I cross the road at midday in the Australian sun.”

  “Well, once you sign these papers, you’ll be able to afford to spend your summers in whatever heat your skin desires.”

  “Oh, you are smooth!” she bantered with no intent. This truly was the first day of the rest of her life and everything was looking wonderful with not even a hint of a panic attack. Anastacia wasn’t ready to call, “cured,” but at least a corner may have been turned.

  “Let’s organize the bank paperwork first,” he said, pushing a stack of forms towards her. “As you expected, the numbers you found do relate to a bank account that was set up in your name. We’ll need to sort out the taxes for the past couple of years, but it appears your husband …”

  “Ex-husband,” she corrected.

  “Sorry, it appears Mr. Thielman wasn’t looking for high interest and even after paying any penalties, you’ll still walk away with a considerable amount.”

  “You mentioned mid six figures?”

  “Third page from the top.”

  “Oh!” Low seven figures was still a lot of zeroes. What the hell had Hudson done? “And I’m the only beneficiary?”

  “The account is in your name. I’d suggest you don’t spend it all—my colleague will handle your divorce but if Mr. Thielman seeks to challenge the account, it would be worthwhile having spare funds to hand over.”

  “All I want is enough to build a life—away from the glitz of the diplomatic world, or the structure of my father’s army life.”

  “This should help you out there,” he smiled while she scanned through the papers. A lot of legal mumbo-jumbo but essentially, if she signed, she got the money.

  “So, now for my purchases?”

  “I took the liberty of transferring the funds to pay for your new car and my assistant is picking it up as we speak.” Anastacia tried to keep her smile appreciative rather than scornful. Clearly, Mr. Howard was expecting more billable hours from her patronage.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Not at all, it’s my privilege. My father served with yours and I grew up hearing about Lieutenant Colonel Vaughan as a real-day Aussie hero.”

  “He’s a Colonel now.”

  “I’ll let my father know. In any case, consider picking up your new car a professional courtesy—your father saved my father’s life back in
the day.”

  No matter how many men, and women, told the same story, it never got old and her need to hug her father finally exceeded the pain from the warehouse.

  “My father doesn’t talk about those sort of things, but I’ll be sure to give him your regards.”

  “Now, about the other purchase—are you really sure? It’s a lot of money and completely out of character for the sort of life you’ve lived.”

  “Exactly why it is perfect for me now. If you’ve got the papers, how long after I sign can I take possession?”

  “If you want to manage a direct transfer, I can try and get you the keys by the weekend?”

  “I’d like to move in today.” Now it was so close, she couldn’t wait. “Can you make it happen?”

  “Of course, Ms Vaughan.”

  Three hours later, Bella helped her load the last of her boxes in her new car and Anastacia was almost home.

  Hours spent online looking for her future, she had kept coming back to this one acreage. Close enough to Sydney that as soon as she could organize it, she hoped her father would come out and visit, but far enough outside the main city that none of her old life would want to track her down. Not her diplomatic or socialite friends. Or her old university or high school friends who had tried to reach out through social media as soon as news of her return broke.

  She wound down the window and took in the smell of fresh, wet grass. Freshly mowed, the deep green perfectly offset against the white wooden fence and white house.

  A home of her own—the single thing in life that she had always wanted and never had. Well, since she couldn’t have Ed, then she wanted to be surrounded in love of a different type.

  “Ms Vaughan,” a girl in her late teens or early twenties greeted her. “I’m Connie, I used to help Ms Astrid with the dogs.”

  “First, please call me Staci.” Anastacia had been left behind, from now on she only wanted to be called Staci. “Secondly, what do you mean ‘used to?’”