Wild Poppy

by Victoria Johns

  “Good point.”

  I’d done three sutures and reckoned I had another three to go when he reached for the bottle of Buckfast again. “Sorry.” It only came out as a mumble, but I felt compelled to say it.

  “Stop. Just glad you didn’t take my head off.”

  “I can shoot straight when I need to.”

  “I’ll fucking remember that.” The room fell quiet. Bullet was beside Fraser again and he whimpered every time his owner made the slightest squeak of pain and distress. “We done with it?”

  “Got a couple more to do and then I need to cover it up.”

  “Didn’t mean that. Meant me not being straight with you about Shadow.”

  “Kind of, but if this is going to work then we need to get all our skeletons out of the closet.”

  “You know mine. I took the lives of those who tortured my sister…” He paused, blinking long and slow. “Can you get past that?”

  “Absolutely.” My answer was so immediate and definitive that his head jerked to look at me. “I’ve been where your sister was, but I was surrounded by people who thought it was a spectator sport, until Shadow that is. There was no one even close to me who saw it for what it was.”

  Fraser relaxed a fraction until I pushed the needle back into his skin. “Fuck!”

  “Last one, promise.”

  “Good. Honestly, feeling like a right pussy sat here.”

  “Trust me, you’re being a brave soldier.” I tied the last one quickly, dumped the pliers and snips on the table and reached for the dressing. Within minutes he was covered up and sealed completely as I pressed down on the tape to secure it. “No log chopping for a while. They need to stay closed so your skin can knit.”

  “Think I’ve earned a rest.” He went to stand up and wobbled before planting his ass back in the chair. “As if my manliness isn’t taking enough of a hit, I can’t even stand up straight.”

  “That’ll be the pills and probably shock from it all, not to mention the Buckie.” I finished the words in my rubbish Scottish accent.

  “Not bad,” he commended.

  “Let me help you. I’ll clean up after I’ve got you upstairs and on the bed.” I pulled him up and placed his good arm around my shoulders, and by the time we’d got upstairs, Bullet had only gotten in the way three times, nearly sending all of us back to the bottom. I eased him to the bed, and he fell back immediately.

  “Room’s spinnin’.”

  “I bet.” Very compliant, Fraser let me undress him, and once again I was presented with his perfect tattooed form. Hope bloomed inside me; we’d faced a major test and he hadn’t killed me or kicked me out. Shooting him was extreme, but despite it, he was still treating me with care. “Shuffle up.” He did as I asked and lay back against the pillow. “Be right back.”

  Quickly cleaning up the aftermath from the emergency medical, I left dealing with the gun until last. There was an old metal tin at the back of the sink unit, so I dumped it in there for safekeeping. There was no point putting it back in my hidey hole; he knew it existed now. With a sharp vegetable knife from the kitchen, I also retrieved the bullet from the wall, feeling it in my finger before dropping it in the tin with the gun. I didn’t want to leave it there as a reminder for both of us, but there was nothing I could do about the hole in the wall for the time being.

  Upstairs, Fraser was dozing as I climbed on the bed beside him. I would make it up to him. I would show him he’d made the right decision to stick by me.

  “Sorry I didn’t come clean sooner,” he muttered. “Longer I left it, harder it got and then, I just didn’t know how.”

  “Ssh, rest.”

  “Sometimes,” he mumbled, and his eyes closed, “no matter how much we try or want it, sometimes things don’t end well, or we don’t get what we want. I wanted you and wasn’t ready to face the fact that we might not get our happy ending. But I couldn’t let you go.”

  I stayed quiet. I loved that he’d been thinking those things about us, that even after such a short space of time together I mattered to him. We, as a couple, mattered to him.

  Fraser yawned and I knew he was about ten seconds from dreamtime. “We’ll talk in the morning,” I whispered.

  “You’ll be here in the morning?” he asked, his voice barely above a mutter.

  “I will.”

  He relaxed at that and stayed quiet until he fell into a deep sleep. Praying that I got a few hours with him, just being able to be close to him and see him felt vitally important. When I told him as much as I could in the morning, he might not want to be around me, and I had to be prepared for that. So, I curled up as close as I could, being careful not to hurt him, with Fraser at one side of me and his four-legged protector on the other.

  Cocooned by the pair of them, I prayed that things could stay like this for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mac

  I only moved an inch and I felt it. It was like someone was trying to hammer a nail into my shoulder. It all came back to me in an instant and the only thing I was concerned about was whether she’d run off into the night and given up on me, on us. My movement made me groan before I could stop it slipping from my lips.

  “Steady,” she whispered, close to me.

  Thank. Fuck.

  It wasn’t just my frame that relaxed; it was my heart, too, and the rhythm it settled into. Penny had decided to stick it out and given me another chance after I’d fucked up so spectacularly.

  “I’ll get you some more pills.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  The bed moved again as she gently lay back down beside me.

  “Bullet, it’s okay, buddy.” The dog had moved the minute he knew I was awake and rested his heavy head on my thigh, licking the hand I extended to him. I saw Penny go to pat his head, but he brushed her off. My faithful dog wasn’t ready to forgive her, and I knew that would cut her deep.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was small, remorseful even, ashamed.

  “It’s done.” I wanted it to be, but I had a feeling until she’d purged what was living deep inside her, it would never be done. I hated the thought that I might have to relive this at some point in the future. If something triggered her and we weren’t in a good place, she might react and put another bullet in me. I worried that if I bided my time and we didn’t talk now, then we’d be sweeping it under the carpet, and I’d made such a fuck up of trying to do that already.

  “I—” she began again.

  “Could murder a coffee. Buckie is hell at the best of times, but the morning after, it’s vile.” I just couldn’t listen to her apologize again. Penny hesitated like she was going to kiss me, or stroke my arm with affection, but changed her mind at the last minute and scuttled off.

  I breathed easier after she’d left; the pressure was intense.

  Bullet shifted to take up the warm spot she’d just vacated. “It’s all good.” I mussed up his ears and prayed he’d get over his aversion to Penny sooner rather than later. I could do without feeling the need to bridge that relationship gap, too. A few minutes later the smell of coffee hit me, and I attempted to move.

  Christ! I was sore.

  I remembered back to how she’d stitched me up like a pro, tapping the edge of the bandage thanking small mercies and being thankful for skills she’d learned during a life that had all but broken her.

  “Let it heal.” She appeared in the doorway carrying two steaming mugs.

  “It will.” She placed one on her side of the bed and handed the other to me. “When did you get dressed?” She had a full set of clothes on, last night’s clothes.

  “I didn’t undress.”

  That had me back to square one, stressing again, and I hated to ask but I needed to know. “Were you gonna split?”

  “More like, I wanted to be ready in case you woke up and wanted me gone?”

  “Thought we’d been through that.”

  Penny ignored my frustrated sigh. “Here, take these…” She put
three pills in my palm.

  “Don’t need them.”

  “Humor me. Sleep is the best healer right now.”

  I looked at my hand and then back up at her. “A bit worried about shutting my eyes.”

  She looked crestfallen. “Are you having nightmares?”

  “No,” I finally snapped. “I’m fucking worried you’re gonna run out on me.”

  “I promise I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

  I was back to looking at her face, and her honesty and words were the only things I had to trust. Taking the pills, I sunk them and settled back with a mouthful of coffee. I waited as she sat next to me, her back against the head rest and knees bent. She nestled the coffee in her lap, looking at Bullet. “He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so.”

  We sat in silence and the comfort of it all caused my eyes to close again, just breathing it all in, and for once seeing the silver lining in taking that bullet.

  “Maybe we should go back to Culloden,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “So I can go back in time and not shoot you.”

  I stayed quiet, my senses praying she was building up to something because until we’d cleared out our dead completely neither of us would ever settle.

  “That day,” she began, and I silently urged her to continue. “When I touched the stone and you mumbled about going back to the past, it scared me.”

  “I picked up on that. Wanna tell me why?”

  “I thought you knew all there was to know.” She stalled then sidled closer, and as she did my heart rate picked up. I wanted this; I wanted her, and it felt like it was just within reach, but by the same token it felt like it could fall off a cliff edge and be gone forever. “There’s always more beneath the surface of a person.”

  “Using the word seduced makes it sound romantic, but that’s how it felt. A guy made all the right moves, said all the right things and before I knew it, I was too intrigued to back out. Things at work were dull, I had no real family to speak of, and I led a miserable life. All of a sudden, this person plucked me from my ordinary life and offered me some sparkle in that dull day. I look back now and think I was like a magpie, chasing something shiny for myself. How dumb is that?”

  “Not dumb,” I mumbled, my eyes resting closed, now afraid that if I opened them and looked at her, she’d get cold feet and close up on me again.

  “It was always supposed to be them who did the brain washing, the radicalization, but that’s what happened to me. They seduced me into service. Maybe that’s why I hate faith and religion—they preyed on me when I was alone and searching for something. It was sold to me like a faith I could believe in, but I was hoodwinked.”

  I wanted to interject, but I couldn’t. These were words I needed to hear. I’d been low a long time ago, missing something, open to persuasion, and had I been tougher, stronger and less lost, maybe the Catholic church wouldn’t have got to me. When I left and went completely rogue on my revenge-killing spree, it didn’t feel wrong. It was a natural part of me, but the guilt they’d instilled in me was the part I couldn’t reconcile. Looking back, brainwashing was a good way to describe it.

  “I’m supposed to be dead.” Her voice was small, not defiant, with the sheer shock of what should have become of her. “I went through hell for them, they took something from me that I will never get back, and they were just going to decommission me.”

  “I can imagine that feels too much to get over, but the past is gone. If you’re not moving forward then you’re just stuck wherever you are.”

  “I’m happy where I am,” she admitted. “I can’t remember a time when I was happier.”

  That was heart-warming and gut wrenching all at the same time.

  “I can take it, you know.” I whispered, desperate not to scare her away.

  “What?”

  I wanted to plead, but as with everything it had to be on her terms. “Your demons. Let me take them.”

  “You have your own.” Her voice was small, barely audible, but the words were so loud they beat against my ears.

  “And someone said some things that make me believe it’s time to stop torturing myself, otherwise I’m gonna be stuck in the past, unable to do anything about anything, not moving on.”

  “Exactly, you don’t want to just replace all of that.”

  “I wouldn’t be, because I can’t do anything about those either, but offloading might help you.”

  Finally, I opened my eyes and saw the tension etched in her face. “Baby, look at me.” When she did, I carried on. “I want us to be together, and I never thought I’d ever be in that place. You did that for me. Now, it’s my turn. You want this, us, then we need a clean run at it.”

  “But—”

  “I also need to know you trust me, so that next time there’s a misunderstanding, we sort it with a conversation and not a bullet. Tell me what you can, or what it takes to get us to that place, babe, so we can both we where we need to be.”

  Penny’s body stiffened. “Sounds like an ultimatum.”

  Was that what I intended?

  Was that what it was going to take?

  And if I did, and she bolted, was I ready for that outcome?

  My answer hit me before I finished the last internal question. “No, I’m saying if we haven’t got trust, we’re already on rocky ground. Look…” I pointed to my shoulder.

  It was enough to get her started. “I always thought I’d end up in an office. Pushing paper, listening to calls, pattern finding, that kind of stuff. I was really good at that during training. I excelled.” Penny’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Do you know that the US government follow everyone’s online footprint, bit like a score system? Criminal—tick a box. Certain types of crimes—tick another box; migrant—tick again and so on and so on. They give those details to an analyst like me and I dig, deep. Following them digitally to see where they take me. Seventy five percent of the time the path always crosses with someone of note.”

  “Fuck. Really?” I played a bit dumb. I suspected this with the way that Shadow lived as close to off the grid as he could these days.

  “Oh yeah, it may only be that two people have shopped in the same Seven Eleven, but that link is pulled apart and analyzed until you’re convinced enough to take further action, or disregard it.

  “Intense.” Despite where I knew this was going, it was interesting stuff. I knew that nine-eleven had fucked with the Yanks, but this side of the pond, we were well versed in matters of being watched and scrutinized. We had the war in Northern Ireland to thank for that.

  “I stumbled across a Facebook post of one guy, handsome as hell, just randomly reaching out to pretty females with open profiles. His path had crossed someone on a watch list, so we followed a few of the girls, too, and we knew we were looking at some sort of grooming. Three months later, a girl we were tailing turned up in a park wearing a headscarf and it wasn’t because she was cold. The girl met with someone else and we knew we’d struck a connection. The office was buzzing, and I remember that excitement at being the one who started it all, found all those connections. And it was big. Cutting a long story short, because I’d been following him for so long, I pretty much knew him without ever having met him. They tried to recruit a number of girls to work him, but they fumbled or messed up, and I was the one who was testing them. I kinda stuck myself in the role after I dismissed a number of other agents. I created a fake footprint, put that profile in his way and he took the bait. Next thing I know, I’m having conversations online, saying the right things, and he asks to meet me. As soon as he went for me, they pulled me from normal duties and put me in a side program.”

  “Like Shadow’s?” Had they trained her to be the same as him?

  “Kinda. We learned similar skills, but mine was more of a honey pot. A group of skilled women who can infiltrate the enemy using more subtle, female ways. The thing was, I’d been on the other side of that fence, playing dating agent, hooking th
em up with terrorists, yet it never crossed my mind what they went through, what they actually did.”

  My insides clenched and twisted. They set up a motherfucking whorehouse in the name of truth, justice and the American way. “Did you know what would be expected of you?”

  “Hell, no! I thought I’d go on a date, plant a bug or two, cultivate a relationship and end up with an asset to manage. Next thing I knew, I was swallowed up in the inner circle, being taken on dates, getting visual contact with a whole load of red flags and being urged to do just one more thing. It took me a while to see just how deep I was. They’d kill me if they found out who I was, and my own people would kill me if I didn’t keep going. I was a valuable asset. During the day I’d be honing combat training, learning very scary shit, and at night I was in a club, looking like a western hooker, being treated like shit, the ultimate terrorist prize.”

  “So, how did you end up out there?”

  “Weakness, bravery, wanting to prove them all wrong and the promise that they’d extract me in four weeks. The plan was to go wherever they were holed up so we could get a location and then get brought home. That showed my naivety. If they’d done that, the terrorists would have closed camp and moved on, so my four weeks would have been pointless. But I never figured that out until it was too late. But looking back, I don’t think I was given any choice about going. I knew way too much on all fronts and at one point they hinted that I’d been flipped and was some kind of double agent. I had to prove I wasn’t.”

  “I can’t believe your own goddamn country did that, manipulated you into it.” It was a white lie I hoped she wouldn’t figure out. Of course I could believe it; I’d seen how they’d left Shadow. Used, depleted and mentally destroyed.

  “The minute I got out there, I knew I was in over my head. It was much, much worse than anything I thought it would be. Being a woman means only one thing to them and that priority isn’t cooking and cleaning. But being an American woman was so much worse.” Her eyes filled with emotion and I wanted to stop her from having to relive it, but we had to get this out, purge it from her so we could move on.