Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts Book 1)

by Tarina Deaton

  Bree hit the bottom step as Cindy’s downstairs neighbor exited his apartment, carrying a bag of trash. “Excuse me. Hi. Do you know the woman in 2C?”

  “Cindy?” he asked. “Yeah. Nice girl. Kind of quiet. Why?” He set the bag of trash down on the grass next to the walkway.

  She fiddled with her keys. “She didn’t come in to work this morning. Did you happen to see or hear her?”

  “That’s weird. She left at the normal time. I work nights, so I’m usually coming in as she’s leaving. We waved as we drove past.”

  “Shoot. Thanks. If you happen to see her, would you ask her to call her boss?”

  “Sure thing. Hope she’s okay.” He leaned down and picked up the bag.

  Bree gave him a tight smile. “Me too.”

  She continued to think about Cindy on the drive home, and her mind flip-flopped between thinking Cindy was just sick and thinking she was lying in a pool of blood. Shit. Who could she call?

  “Tim!” She sat upright in her seat. She was such a ditz. She checked her rearview mirror as she pulled to a stop at the intersection. Grabbing her phone from the console, she pulled up her contacts and thumbed Tim’s number. His voice boomed out over Bluetooth and she adjusted the volume.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Hey. How long do you have to wait before filing a missing person report?” She checked for traffic and turned right onto her street.

  “My brother missing in action already?”

  Bree laughed. “No. Someone at work.”

  “Depends on the situation. Who’s missing?”

  “My medical technician.” She pulled into her drive and shut off the engine. “She didn’t come in or call.” She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and got out of the car.

  “—the norm.”

  “What? Sorry, my Bluetooth switched off. I missed most of that.”

  “I said, I take it that’s out of the norm.”

  “Yeah.” She unlocked the mudroom door.

  “When was the last time you heard from her?”

  She dropped her bag on the bench beside the washer and hung her keys on the hook by the door. “Last Friday, when I left work.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Fayette—. Someone’s here.” She paused in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

  “Here where? Where are you?”

  “My house.”

  “Don’t go in.”

  “I’m already in.”

  “Leave. Now.”

  “Oh, good. You’re finally home.”

  Cindy stood by the kitchen counter, her blue hospital scrubs stained with large dark splotches. Blood. Blood also dotted her hands.

  Bree set her phone on the counter to her left, still connected to Tim. “Cindy. What are you doing here? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” She sounded…chipper. Excited. The same feverish excitement shone in her eyes. A whimper sounded from the dining room. Cindy’s head whipped around to look over her shoulder, then back to look at Bree. “Come see.” She walked into the dining room, to one of the ladder back chairs, and the person tied to it. She rocked the chair and turned it, revealing a petite blonde woman.

  Katherine. Bree’s heart pounded in her chest.

  Cindy picked up the folding hunting knife laying on the table. “He left you on Sunday and went to her.”

  Katherine stared at Bree, beseeching. A gag was pulled tight against her mouth and tears streaked her face, mascara blending with blood that ran from a wound high on her temple. She struggled against the rope binding her arms to the chair. Bree scanned the cuts along her arms. They bled freely, but appeared to be superficial. Defensive wounds, maybe. Large spots of blood seeped through her pink top over her stomach, which worried Bree, unable to see the actual wounds.

  Oh, Cindy. What have you done? Bree’s gaze flicked to Cindy. “Who left me, Cindy?”

  “Chad! Chad left you and went to her.” She emphasized her words by pointing the knife between Bree and Katherine. “Did you know he slept with me?” She began to pace back and forth. Three short steps away. Three short steps back. “The night you met him. He told me I was beautiful. And special. Took me home with him.”

  What was she talking about? “Cindy, you weren’t there that night.” She continued to assess the situation as she took a small step closer to Cindy, edging her way between Cindy and Katherine. If she could distract Cindy while she was away from Katherine, she might be able to get the knife away.

  “I was. I was there. I went to support you.” Cindy shook her head, staring at the floor as she paced. “I wasn’t invited. Snuck in. To see you. You were presenting, and I knew you were nervous. I heard you talking about it.” She stopped and faced Bree. “But that’s what makes you so wonderful. You did it for your grandmother. You always go out of your way for people.”

  “Why are you doing this, Cindy?” Bree spoke softly, trying to keep her voice soothing. Keep her talking. Shit. Please Tim, get here soon.

  Cindy’s face twisted and anger blazed from her eyes. “Because you don’t deserve this.” She pointed her knife at Katherine, who whimpered.

  Bree flinched toward her, but Cindy only gestured with the knife. “I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

  Cindy began pacing again. “I saw an article about you. When you got your medal. You’re such an inspiration. You saved those people. You inspired me.”

  Is she talking to me or herself at this point? She took another small step forward.

  “I followed you. In the news. There were a lot of articles about you at first, but they dwindled off.”

  God, she’d hated those news stories. Enlisted hero. Woman hero. She’d just been doing her job.

  “Later, I saw an article about you graduating from Physical Therapy school and going to work at Fort Bragg.” Cindy stopped again, her eyes bright with happiness. “Then, I found a job listing for a medical assistant at the hospital and I knew, I knew, it was meant to be. I’d only hoped to work near you, but I found out I was going to be your assistant. I was so happy.” She clasped her hands together, the knife gleaming near her face. “And you’re everything I knew you’d be. So nice. You encouraged me to take classes when you found out I dropped out of nursing school. Your patients love you.” She pivoted sharply to glare at Katherine. “And those women dishonored you. Disgraced you.” She took a step toward Katherine, the knife half raised in her hand. “With Chad.”

  She is batshit crazy. “Cindy.” She looked at Bree, her head turning in slow motion. “It’s not Katherine’s fault.”

  Cindy’s face fell. “You know her name? Why do you know her name?” Her voice was harsh.

  “Chad told me about her. I know they’re dating.”

  “And you accept that?” she screeched.

  That was the wrong thing to say. Way to go, Marks.

  “Why do you keep taking him back? He’s a liar and a cheat. He’s never going to love you!”

  Calm. Calm. Keep her calm. Bree put her hands out in front of her. “Cindy, please. I didn’t take Chad back. We’re not together.”

  “You are! I saw you. I saw you hug him.” She pointed the knife toward Bree. “You let him in your house. You let him touch you.”

  “He apologized, Cindy. That was all. I’m in love with someone else.”

  “You can’t forgive him. You can’t forgive them.” She stepped closer to Katherine. “You have to understand. She has to pay.” She pulled her arm back. Katherine screamed behind her gag.

  “No!” Bree lunged forward and raised her left arm, blocking Cindy’s thrust. The blade stung as it slid along her forearm. Grab the shirt. Spin. Shift weight. Thrust hip. Leave it up to momentum.

  Forward motion and gravity threw Cindy forward. Her toe caught on the edge of the carpet and she tumbled to the floor, landing hard, and gasped. She tried to push herself up but collapsed, a pool of blood forming under her head.

  “Cindy?” A w
ave of dizziness washed through Bree. What? Her arm. A four-inch gash ran across the inside of her forearm. Bright red blood spurt freely. Shit. She clamped her hand over the cut. Her vision began to fade, blackness encroaching from the edges.

  Can’t black out. Need to stop the bleeding.

  Her knees buckled as Tim rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn. “Bree?” Detective Johnson and another officer followed behind.

  Only a pinpoint of light was visible through the tunnel. “Tourniquet.”

  “Marks! Get your ass back here. Damn it. Cover her!”

  She crossed the expanse between vehicles, sliding on her knees behind the mangled rear bumper of the Humvee, the rear door wide open. She flinched, small pieces of metal ricocheting off the corner.

  “Hold on. I’ll get you out of there.”

  The soldier reached down and released his seat belt. He stepped out of the Humvee, uninjured.

  “What—?” She stood and took a step back.

  “You don’t belong here, Bree. You have to go back.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I have to save them.”

  “You saved everyone you could. It’s time to let go.”

  “No. I have to get it right.”

  Beep.

  “There’s nothing to get right. None of this was in your control.”

  Beep.

  “I should have been faster. I should have gotten to you sooner.”

  Beep.

  “If you had gotten to me sooner, you’d be dead too. It wasn’t your time then. It isn’t your time now, Bree.”

  Beep…beep…beep…

  The high-pitched, steady sound invaded her consciousness. She cracked her eyes open, struggling against the lethargy that fought to hold her under. She closed, then opened her eyes again. A narrow bed. White sheets. Her eyes closed again.

  “Bree?” Her head was heavy, weighed down as she tried to find the familiar voice. “Stay with me, darlin’.”

  Jase. His voice was rough. Strained. She struggled harder to wake up.

  “Open your eyes, baby.” His warm lips pressed against her forehead. High on her cheek. Her lips. She cracked her eyes and he filled her narrow vision. His thumb brushed across her eyebrow. “There you are.”

  Her eyelids drooped. She moved her thick, dry tongue around her mouth, unable to work up any moisture. “Water.” Her voice croaked. His touch left her. A sharp touch against her parched lips made her flinch.

  “It’s a straw, baby. Open your mouth a little.”

  Eyes still closed, she parted her lips. The cool water brought instant relief. The straw left her mouth all too soon.

  She struggled to open her eyes again. To know for sure Jase was with her. She blinked several times, finally able to keep them open for more than a few seconds.

  “Where am I?” She braced her arms on the bed to shift up and hissed in pain.

  “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed the control beside the bed and raised the back so she was upright. “You’re in the hospital.”

  She looked down at her arm, bandaged from her wrist to her elbow. Fuck. “Katherine?”

  He sat in the chair pulled close to the bed and held her hand. “She’s in a room down the hall.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Cindy?”

  He brushed her hair back. “She didn’t make it. The knife nicked an artery in her neck when you threw her.”

  Her eyes welled up. She turned her head and covered her eyes with her good hand, the I.V. pulling at her hand.

  “Oh darlin’, don’t.” His lips against her forehead. She heard rustling and then his long body wedged its way next to hers. She scooted toward the rail to give him some more space and turned her head into his shoulder as he slid his arm under her neck.

  She soaked the material under her cheek. Sniffing, she tried not to rub her nose on his shirt. “Do they know why?”

  “Detective Johnson has some ideas. He’s been by every afternoon. You can ask him later.” His fingers toyed with her hair. Her eyes drifted shut, tears leaking from the corners.

  Her head rose and fell with Jase’s inhale and exhale. She should probably get off her side and arm, but she was comfortable.

  “Jase,” Denise hissed. “The nurses are going to lose their shit if they see you in bed with her.”

  “Then guard the door. And quit yelling.”

  “Why’re you in bed with her?”

  “She woke up. Got upset when I told her about whack job.”

  Bree opened her eyes. “Don’t call her that.”

  Jase peered down his nose. “You fakin’?”

  “Just woke up.”

  Denise poked Jase in the ribs. “Get out. My turn.” They stared each other down for several moments. It was a pretty even match; no telling how it would go.

  Jase sighed and pulled his arm from under Bree. She raised her head, and he eased to a sitting position. He swung his legs to the side and stood. Turning, he leaned down and brushed her hair back from her face. “Careful of her arm.” Bree smiled.

  “No shit.” Denise pushed him out of the way and crawled up on the bed. She grasped Bree’s fingers and moved her arm onto Bree’s chest. She lay down on her side, facing Bree, her arm draped over Bree’s hip.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Weak.” Her throat was still dry.

  “That’ll happen when you lose most of your blood.”

  “Is there water?”

  Denise looked over her shoulder, but Jase already had the cup ready. He angled the straw so she could drink. She pulled away and nodded her head. “Thank you.”

  He set the cup down and walked around the bed. Shifting her knees, he sat on the end of the bed on her side.

  “What’s the rule?” Denise asked.

  That was a loaded question. They had a lot of rules. One for almost every occasion - except for getting cut by your crazy medical assistant. They’d never come up with a rule for that. She shook her head.

  “Don’t take stupid chances.”

  Oh, that one. Jase squeezed her thigh. Apparently, he agreed. “Didn’t have much of a choice. She was in my house when I got home.”

  Denise touched her forehead to Bree’s. “You scared me,” she whispered. “Don’t do it again.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What do y’all think you’re doin’?” An older nurse stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Her salt-and-pepper hair twisted into a bun on top of her head, and she wore scrubs with a hearts-with-wings motif. “Get off that poor girl.” She stormed forward and waved her hand at Jase, as if shooing away a fly. She smacked Denise on the leg. “Off. Bad enough someone tried to filet her like a fish, she doesn’t need y’all piling on top of her.”

  Bree smiled as Denise and Jase did as they were told, grumbling the whole time.

  “Nice to see you awake, dear.” Her whole demeanor changed. “I’m Mary Ann. How’re you feeling?”

  She shifted onto her back and moved to the center of the bed. “Weak. Thirsty.”

  “That’s to be expected with significant blood loss.” Mary Ann raised the head of the bed so Bree was half reclining. She tried resting her arm on her chest, but it aggravated her wound. Laying it next to her on the bed, palm up, relieved most of the pain.

  “How much did I have transfused?”

  Mary Ann glanced at her as she checked the I.V. bag. “Fifteen units.”

  Bree’s eyebrows rose. Denise hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d lost most of her blood.

  “I’m gonna take your vitals and change your bandage now that you’re awake.”

  “Okay.” Jase stepped back from the end of the bed as Mary Ann rounded the bed, but never broke eye contact. His eyes were bloodshot, underscored by dark circles. His curly hair stood up in tufts, as if he had been pulling on sections of it.

  “You look like crap,” Bree said. He grinned and winked.

  “I told him to go home and take a shower,” Denise said.

  “He wouldn’t leave
your side,” Mary Ann added. “Called in the big guns when we tried to kick him out.” Her look was disgruntled as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Bree’s good arm.

  “Big guns?” Bree asked.

  “Gran,” Jase said.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s coming back this evening,” Jase said.

  “Open back up.” Mary Ann stuck a digital thermometer in her mouth. “Close.” The machine beeped twice and Bree opened her mouth.

  “I’ll be right back with clean bandages.” She patted Bree’s uninjured arm.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Three days,” Denise said.

  “Three days?” Her head rose from the flat pillow, but dropped again immediately.

  “How much do you remember?” Jase asked.

  “All of it. Right up until Tim and Detective Johnson stormed in. How’s Katherine?”

  “She was stabbed twice in the stomach,” Denise said. “I think the doctors had to remove a kidney, but she’s conscious. They have her a couple rooms down the hall.”

  “I’d like to go see her when I can.”

  Jase crossed his arms. “I’ll wheel you down when the doctor says you can move around.”

  Bree glared. “My arm is cut, not my leg.”

  “Did Cindy—?” Mary Ann’s arrival cut Denise’s question short.

  She carried an assortment of bandages on a stainless steel tray. “The doctor’s right behind me. He’s going to take a look at your arm before I wrap it back up.”

  Bree nodded. Mary Ann held her left arm in one hand while she gently unwound the gauze. The yellow-stained skin from the disinfectant… the purple-and-blue bruising around the edge of the gash… finally, the wound itself. The cut was almost straight across the fleshy part of her inner arm, the edge on the pinky side of her arm slightly higher than the edge on the thumb side. The tiny, black stitches were tight, precise, and evenly spaced. She stared at it dispassionately. As long as she didn’t pull the wound open, the scar would be thin.