by David Archer
Cassie’s single eye widened. “That doesn’t sound like an accident to me,” she said. “Sounds like a pretty damn brave thing to do.”
“Maybe,” Dex said, “but that wasn’t what got me the medal. While I was trying to get into position, one of the bad guys fired an RPG into the midst of that group, and it was like—it just blew several people to pieces, and a couple of them were friends of mine. I kinda went crazy for a few minutes, and I turned the wheel and just started chasing the bastards. After action report says I ran down more than two dozen, and I had them so panicked and confused that our people got the chance to regroup and take them out. Captain put me in for a commendation, and he wouldn’t listen when I told him I didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassie said. “I’m sorry about your friends, I mean. When this happened to me, a friend of mine who was just trying to help me got caught up in it. She was burned worse than I was, and died.”
“And I’m sorry to hear that,” Dex replied. “I’ve got a hunch that she’s one of the reasons you do what you do, trying to help people. Am I right?”
Cassie gave him her half grin. “She had a sister who was killed in a domestic abuse situation,” she said. “She was always talking about it, always trying to tell women to never put up with it, to get out before it got worse. Then I got into the same kind of mess and she died trying to help me get out of it.” She shrugged. “I guess this is my way of honoring her memory. She was only with me because she had just found out that I was being abused. If I hadn’t called her, she’d probably still be alive.”
The waitress brought their orders at that moment, and Cassie suggested they eat and leave further conversation for later. Dex agreed without a word and dug in, his own surf and turf disappearing from his plate rather quickly. Cassie ate a little more slowly, but that was partly because of the thoughts rolling through her mind.
He looks straight at my face, she said to herself. Of course, he’s probably seen worse, what with being in the war and all. Still, he’s the only man I’ve known yet who didn’t have to look away every few seconds. And he’s not bad-looking, in a rugged Sam Elliott kind of way…
She mentally slapped herself. Since the first time she had actually looked at herself in the mirror after the fire, she had been determined to put all thoughts of romance into the past, where they belonged. It was pretty obvious, even then, that she’d never find a man who would be willing to accept Freda, her alter ego. It was better just to forget about such things, so how dare she even entertain such a thought at this moment?
“So,” Dex said after she finally put down her fork. “Would you like to go out for a drink after dinner?”
Cassie gave him the Freda Kruger smile, the one that twisted the burned side of her lips. “You don’t have to be nice to me, Dex,” she said. “I’ve already agreed to look for your girlfriend, no strings attached. Just give me that file and I can…”
TWENTY
“Hey, hold on,” he said. “First off, I don’t expect you to do this for nothing—I’m going to pay you. The last private eye I hired charged me five thousand dollars, and I’ve already got a check made out to you for the same amount. Me asking you out for a drink is nothing but me trying to say I’m enjoying your company.” He leaned a little closer and looked into her eye. “Remember I told you some of my friends got blasted? Well, that was an incendiary device, so they got burned pretty badly. I’ve seen scars like yours before, but they don’t mean squat. I don’t pay a lot of attention to what people look like on the outside, because one of my best friends back in the ’Stan was a PFC named Gretchen Mays. Before she took that hit, she was pretty cute, but she got burned over her entire face. She was lucky enough not to lose her eyes, and her scarring isn’t as deep as yours must’ve been, but she managed to keep a positive attitude. We kept in touch, and I went to see her after I got out. And you know what? Even with the burn scars all over her face, even with no eyebrows and no real lips to speak of, even with the soft part of her nose gone, she’s still cute. If she hadn’t already gotten married by the time I got home, I would’ve done my best to ask her out for a date.”
“Good for her,” Cassie said. “I’m not looking for a date, though. And just for the record, I don’t need your money. My ex-fiancé was a St. Louis police detective. When it turned out that he and some of his buddies were also responsible for a number of rapes and murders in the city, and that they were using their positions to keep from getting caught, the city offered me a pretty generous settlement. I’ll look for your girlfriend, but you can donate the money to your favorite charity.”
“Cassie,” he said, “you don’t mind if I call you Cassie, right? Look, I’m not asking you out on a date. I’m asking you to hang out with me and have a drink. I got a sneaky hunch that you and I have one thing in common that you’ve overlooked.”
“Oh, yeah? And what might that be?”
“Simple. We’re both hard-asses who don’t let people get close. I can count my friends on one hand and have fingers left over. How many you got?”
Cassie stared at him for a long moment. “If you have friends,” she said, “they can get hurt. I’ll never take the chance on someone getting hurt because of me again.”
“Then you’ve forgotten the most important lesson you should have learned from your friend who died: ain’t none of us really alive until we got friends who care about us, Cassie. In all the time since I got back from the ’Stan, I haven’t really made a single friend. Personally, I think it would be nice to have somebody I can hang out with for a beer or even for a dinner now and then. I’m not trying to get into your pants, Cassie; I’d just like to have a friend, one who’s not afraid to just be herself.”
Cassie had actually snorted when he made the comment about her pants, and it was all she could do to hold back the laughter that tried to follow. It took her a moment to get herself completely under control, and then she looked at him again.
“We can be friends,” she said, “on one condition. If I ever get myself in trouble, you don’t try to help. Deal?”
Dex stuck out his hand. “If you get in trouble, I won’t do nothin’. That’s a promise.”
Cassie shook hands with him and then smiled softly. “A beer does sound pretty nice,” she said.
“Cool. What kind of music do you like? There’s just about every kind of bar around here, and I like places that have a live band.”
“I grew up on a farm,” Cassie said. “I’m a country music kinda gal. That okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Dex said. “I’m a big country fan, myself. Let me take care of the check, and we can ditch this joint.”
Cassie started to protest that she could pay for her own dinner, but Dex signaled the waitress and just handed her his credit card. “It’s on me,” he said. “You said you don’t want to get paid for this job, that’s fine, but I can at least cover dinner and drinks. No, shut up, I’m not listening.”
Cassie laughed, despite herself.
The bar they went to was called Grizzly’s, and Cassie was surprised when the band turned out to be very good. There were six members, and it seemed that each of them could do a fair impression of one or more famous country singers. The lead singer was doing an awesome job as Randy Travis when they entered, and Dex pointed at an empty table that was close to the stage, just off the dance floor in front of it.
Cassie nodded, unwilling to yell over the music, and followed him to the table. She glared at him for a brief second when he pulled the chair out for her, but he shrugged and leaned close to her ear. “Old habit,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “My mama taught me to always hold a seat for a lady. I had to hold the chairs for her and my sisters before I was allowed to sit down for supper.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Cassie said back. “You got an excuse for everything, don’t you?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He sat down to her right so that he could reach her good ear when he needed to say something, and a barmaid showed up a mom
ent later. After a quick consultation with Cassie, Dex ordered two draft beers, and the girl left without ever even noticing Cassie’s face.
She did notice when she came back with their mugs. She did a bit of a double take, then asked loudly, “Did he do that to you?”
“Is he still alive?” Cassie shouted back. When the girl nodded, Cassie grinned. “Then he didn’t do it.”
The barmaid laughed and actually touched Cassie on the shoulder before walking away. Cassie watched her go, then turned and looked at Dex.
“That’s Amanda,” he said. “She’s been here quite a while. I don’t guess anything really fazes her.”
Cassie didn’t say anything, but Dex could see that she had relaxed a bit. They sat through a couple of songs, not really bothering to talk, and then the bass guitarist stepped up to the microphone.
The band began to play, and the song was slow as the bass player began his impression of George Strait. Dex leaned over to Cassie and asked, “Do you dance?”
“Not for over three years, now,” she replied and reached for her mug, but Dex caught her hand and was up out of his chair. He gave a tug that she tried to fight, but he wouldn’t back down. When he turned and wrapped both his hands around hers and pretended he was having trouble getting her out of her chair, the people around them began cheering for him.
Cassie gave him a scowl but got to her feet. She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let go as he led her out onto the floor. When he turned and pulled her close, he finally got the full brunt of her expression, but all he did was smile.
“You’re going to pay for this later,” Cassie said. “Nobody said anything about dancing.”
“Oh, will you lighten up? You’re acting like a prude, and I don’t believe you’re really a prude. What’s wrong with a little dancing? Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”
“Enjoy it? Really? The last man I danced with tried to kill me and was going to let his buddy do it when he was too weak. I’m not sure this is exactly what I consider fun.”
“Yeah, but like you told Amanda, that wasn’t me. That guy’s gone, right? He wanted you dead, but you survived. As much as you like to pretend you didn’t, you did. Cassie, everything about you screams out that you are probably one helluva woman, but you keep trying to hide behind your scars, like they’ll keep you safe.”
“That’s because they do!” Cassie spat out the words and then was shocked at herself. Where the hell had that come from? She wasn’t hiding behind her scars or anything else; she was thrusting them right out for the whole world to see. The last thing in the world she cared about was trying to hide from anybody.
Then why won’t you admit that it feels nice to be held up against a man again? Abby’s voice floated through her mind, and as it always did, it forced Cassie to stop and examine what was going on.
Dammit, it did feel good. But so what if it did—it wasn’t like it was going any further than this. She wasn’t a prude, and she was fully aware that her body still had certain needs, but she had a nightstand drawer for that. She certainly didn’t need a man in her life; the last one had made sure she’d never trust another one.
“Cassie,” Dex said, “we all have our scars. Yours show up on the outside, and mine don’t, but we both have them. I can accept yours without thinking that they somehow define who you are, because I know that mine don’t define who I am.”
“That’s because they don’t show,” Cassie said, but the anger was gone. “Most people look at me and all they see is Freddy Krueger’s sister, Freda.”
Dex shrugged. “Then maybe I should’ve invited Freda out tonight. What do you think? Can Freda come out and play?”
Despite herself, Cassie laughed. “Dude,” she said, “I’m not sure you can handle Freda.”
Dex spun her around and pulled her close so that he could whisper into her ear. “I’d certainly be willing to find out,” he said. “After all, surely Freda isn’t afraid of little old me?”
When he had pulled her close, Cassie had been forced to put her arms around his back, and her hands suddenly found his back intriguing. It took her a second to realize that she was actually running them over the taut muscles under his shirt, but when she did, she only wrapped them a little tighter.
“Wow,” Dex said. “I think Freda is starting to like me a little bit.”
“Shut up,” Cassie said. “Just shut up. I have no idea what I’m doing, I have no idea where this is going, but if you say another word I’m walking out the door.”
Dex was quiet for the rest of the song, but then it ended. The couples around them broke apart and started back to their seats, and Cassie pulled away from him, but he suddenly reached up with his right hand and placed it on her ruined left cheek. She froze, her eye staring into one of his, and then he started leaning toward her. She knew what was coming, but she was frozen like a deer in headlights, and when his lips touched hers—on the burned part, no less—Cassie closed her eye and let her lips part slightly.
The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and then Dex, still holding her right hand, led her back to their table. Cassie sat down without a word and picked up her mug, downing half of her remaining beer without stopping. When she put it down, she looked at him.
“Too bad,” she said.
“Too bad what?” Dex asked, his eyes squinting a bit.
“Too bad you said you didn’t want to get into my pants,” Cassie said with a grin. “I think I’m almost drunk enough that you could.”
Dex smiled at her and leaned close. “Well, that’s okay,” he said into her ear, just loud enough for her to hear it. “Because, when I said that, I lied.” His arm went around her, and suddenly he was kissing her neck, and Cassie gasped as she realized how good it felt.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Damn you, stop.”
“If… you… really… wanted me to stop,” Dex said, between kisses and nibbles, “you would be pulling away from me, but you’re not.”
“It’s a moment of weakness,” Cassie said, her voice and breathing ragged, “complicated by the consumption of alcohol. And it feels so damn good, dammit.”
“That’s… a… good… thing,” Dex whispered in her ear, still between kisses.
“Oh, geez,” Cassie said, “let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”
Dex stood instantly and dropped a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, then pulled her up out of her chair and clung to her hand as he led her through the crowded bar. When they got outside, he pulled her toward his own car, a restored 1965 Mustang. “Is your car locked up?”
Cassie fumbled in her pocket for her remote, and the Kia honked twice as she made certain. “Yes.”
“Good, because I’m not letting you get behind the wheel right now anyway.” He walked her to his car and opened the passenger door, then held her hand as she got in. As she buckled her seat belt, he hurried around and got in behind the wheel. Cassie turned her face so she could see him as he started the car and put it into gear.
He pulled up at a house fifteen minutes later and parked the car inside a double garage. “This is my place,” he said. He got out and walked around the car, opening her door for her once again, then offered his hand as she got out.
“Dex,” she said, “this might be a mistake…”
“It’s no mistake,” he said, “but it’s entirely up to you. You say the word, and I take you home. I’ll even get up early and come and pick you up so we can go get your car in the morning.”
She bit her lip as she stared at his face, but she didn’t resist when he pulled gently on her hand. She followed him into the house itself and was surprised to see that it was immaculate. While her experience was limited, she naturally assumed that a single man would have a messy home.
She followed him through the house and listened as he gave her a short guided tour. They had entered through the kitchen, then moved to the living room and into a hallway. He pointed out the bathroom, first door on the right, and then opened the next door.
Cassie swallowed as they entered the bedroom, and then again when he turned and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her, and she felt his hand gently caressing the burned side of her face as he did so. At first it felt scary, but he was so gentle that, after a few seconds, she leaned her cheek into his hand.
“Turn out the lights,” she said. “I’m pretty ugly, without my clothes. The burns…”
He turned off the lights and shut the door, and the only light in the room came from the glow of a digital clock beside the bed. “None of that matters,” he said.
“The fire,” Cassie said, haltingly, “it burned all on my left side, but it came up my leg. I got—my—I got burned bad, down there. Just on the surface, but it’s…”
“Hush,” Dex said, and then he slipped the red vest off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She felt his fingers go to the buttons of her blouse, and drew in a jagged breath. The blouse followed the vest, but she was already fumbling with the buttons on her pants by then.
Dex stripped in a matter of seconds and then pulled her close to him again. The shock of feeling his bare skin against her own caused her to gasp again, but she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his body as close as she could.
Without letting go of her, he reached down and pulled the covers back, then scooped her up into his arms and laid her gently on the bed. When he moved to get in beside her, she slid aside just far enough to allow it and then reached for him again.