by Adams,Claire
“Ten steps, got it,” I said as I took exactly ten steps and came close enough to see that Riza was holding a nine-millimeter pistol to Brooke’s head. That was the weapon that had killed Lydia – suddenly, I had a sick feeling in my stomach, but I needed to know the truth. “What about the women?”
“You always fall for the white girls,” she said. “You choose these snooty women with big degrees and lots of money, and then you use the ones who aren’t respectable enough to be seen in public with.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said angrily. I knew exactly what she was talking about but I didn’t want her talking about it in front of Brooke.
“Diamond? Or don’t you remember?” she said. “C’mon, you know how you hit it and quit it with the dancers. Don’t be a liar, Dax.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But that was something we agreed about! They didn’t want anything more than what we had going on! I didn’t deny anyone anything!”
“Yeah, right,” she said rolling her eyes and looking at me. “You blow off anyone who doesn’t fit your idea of who Mr. Hotshot should be dating.”
I knew right then that I had to turn the conversation around or she was going to end up shooting all of us.
“Riza, why are you doing this? What do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you,” I said.
“What do I want? What do I want?” she cried. “How come no one ever asked me that question before? What do I want? I want my life back! I want my Papi back! I want my family back!”
“Riza, I can’t bring Papi back,” I said gently.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that, asshole?” she shot back. “I’m saying what I want are things that I can’t have! So, now I’m aiming for things I can have.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Revenge, mother fucker, revenge,” she said as she tightened her grip on Brooke, causing her to gasp as Riza pushed the muzzle of the gun to her head and looked at me. “Maybe if you start losing all the things you love, you’ll begin to appreciate those people who do shit for you every damn day!”
“RIZA, NO!” I yelled as I launched myself onto the boat from the dock. I heard the gun go off as I flew through the air and landed on top of Riza. We wrestled like vicious wolves as we fought for control of the gun. I grabbed her hand and tried to wrench the gun out of it, but she had a tight grip and used it to whip me in the head. The blow made me see stars, but I didn’t let go as I fought her for control of the weapon.
Riza was swearing and raging as we fought, but I could feel myself getting calmer and more relaxed. It was a strange sensation to be so angry that I felt like I was melting away into nothing, and then the world went black.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Brooke
“You shot him!” I screamed as I felt an undeniable rage rising in my chest. “He was trying to help you!”
Riza turned and aimed the gun at me and I realized that I was at a distinct disadvantage in this situation. She pointed the gun at me and motioned for me to get away from Dax, who now lay bleeding on the deck.
“Riza, he loves you and wants what’s best for you,” I said trying to find a way to tap into something that would remind her of her love for Dax. “He’s your friend, he doesn’t want to see you hurting.”
“He doesn’t care about me!” she yelled as her hand shook. “None of them care about me! I want my life back! I want my life back!”
“This isn’t the way to get it,” said a voice from behind her. Riza spun around, pointing her gun at the person speaking and yelled at him to back off.
“Riza, you don’t have to do this,” Roger said. “Listen to me, I get it. You were in a war zone and you fought for your life every single day. It was stressful and demoralizing to realize that you might be doing more harm than good, right?”
Riza nodded as her hand shook, but she didn’t say a word.
“I know, I’ve been there,” Roger continued. “You survive in unbearable conditions, and you fight for the freedoms of people who seem to hate you, and you watch your comrades die when insurgents do horrible awful things. I get it, Riza.”
“It was horrible,” she said in a small voice. “To watch people die.”
“I know, war is hell,” he said as he moved toward her. “And you come home feeling like no one in the world could possibly understand what you’ve been through. You don’t know how to live a normal life after you’ve been living on fast forward in high alert all the time. Everything feels boring and slow.”
“Yeah, that’s it exactly!” she nodded as she looked at Roger. “It’s like no one else can understand where I’ve been. And how do you talk about that shit with civilians? They can’t handle that, and they didn’t sign up for it. We did. We signed up to serve and protect and we did. But man, what’s left when you come home?”
“I know the feeling,” Roger said as he moved closer and put a hand out showing her that he wasn’t a threat. I watched him, absolutely mesmerized by his calm demeanor and his confidence. This wasn’t the flakey Roger I knew – the one who fell in love with every woman he dated and then moved on after a few weeks. This was organized Roger who understood someone else’s pain and was openly addressing it in an attempt to alleviate it.
“I don’t know what to do,” Riza said in a small voice as she looked at Roger helplessly. “I don’t know how to live my life. I keep thinking that if I just organize it and make it fit into a neat little box, everything will go back to normal and I’ll feel okay. But it doesn’t. Nothing feels okay.”
“That’s because you’re suffering from PTSD,” Roger said. “Believe me, there are thousands of us who are suffering from it. It makes everything feel like you’re walking waist deep in molasses. It makes you feel like an outsider in your own family even. I know, I’ve been there.”
“How did you get better?” she asked.
“It takes time and a lot of talking about how you feel,” Roger said as he held out his hand palm up as he looked at the gun and then at Riza. She shook her head and then looked at him. “Give me the gun, Riza. It’s not going to solve anything, and you’ve already hurt someone you love. Don’t you want to stop?”
“I want my life back!” she cried. “I just want my life back!”
“I know you do, Riza,” Roger said sympathetically. “That’s all any of us want. You can get it back if you want to, but you can’t get it back if you’re dead. Please, give me the gun.”
She looked at him with a pain so raw and fresh that I gasped and looked away. Roger didn’t, though. He stayed with her and held her gaze until she reached up and gently set the gun in the palm of his hand. He closed his hand around it and dropped his arm to his side as he reached out and pulled her to him with his other arm. Riza burst into tears and sobbed in Roger’s arms as the police officers who’d been waiting at the end of the dock stormed the boat and took her into custody.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there for you,” Roger said quietly as they cuffed her and led her to the waiting car.
“Riza, I’ll meet you at the jail and arrange for bail,” I said as she walked down the dock.
“Why?” she called over her shoulder.
“Because you’re one of Dax’s people, and you deserve the best legal counsel you can get,” I said. “You’re worth it.”
She bowed her head and walked slowly to the car as I turned my attention to Dax, who was being loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled to a waiting ambulance. He wasn’t conscious, and I asked the paramedic if he was okay.
“He’s stable at the moment, but that could change quickly,” she said. “We need to get him to a hospital right away.” She turned and nodded to her partner who helped her lift the gurney onto the dock and they ran toward the ambulance.
I started to chase after them, but Roger grabbed my arm. “He’ll be okay. Let them do their jobs.”
“But, Roger, he was shot,” I said as I looked at him and brought my hands to my face as I began to cry.
&nb
sp; “Brooke, he’s going to be okay,” Roger said as he pulled my hands away from my face and tipped my head up. “He’s going to be okay. The shot wasn’t that serious.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I asked.
“I was a medic with my unit in Iraq, and I’ve seen guys live after far worse shots,” he said. “She wasn’t shooting to kill.”
“I need to get to him,” I said as I headed for the dock. Roger pulled me back and reminded me that we needed to answer the investigator’s questions, and then I needed to get Jordie on the phone and have him start arranging bail for Riza.
“We have a job to do, Brooke,” Roger reminded me. “Let the doctors take care of Dax, and let’s go take care of everything else.”
I nodded and let him help me up on to the dock. “Oh hey, my shoes,” I said as I stood looking down at him in the boat.
“Got ‘em,” he grinned as he held up my pumps with one hand.
“How did you…” I laughed.
“Hey, I know women!” he laughed as he hopped up and handed me my heels.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Dax
As I came up out of the drug-induced sleep I’d been under, I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. I was groggy and my mouth was as dry as the desert. I tried to lift my head and ask for some water, but I couldn’t move.
I turned my head to see exactly where I was. When I looked to my left, I smiled as I saw Brooke curled up fast asleep in a large lounge chair that she’d dragged over from the other side of the room. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders and her mouth was slightly open as she slept. She looked beautiful.
“Mmmm,” I said as I tried to get her attention.
“Huh? What?” She shook her head as she tried to orient herself as she woke. She quickly looked over at me and when she saw that I was awake, too, a smiled spread across her lips, reaching her beautiful blue eyes.
“Hey, you,” she said softly as she stood up and moved over so she could sit on the edge of my bed. “I was waiting for your lazy butt to wake up.”
“Mmm mmm,” I grunted through dry lips that refused to open enough to make sounds that normal people would understand.
“Water, you need water,” she said as she got up and went out to the nurse’s station to ask if I could have it. She returned with a big pitcher and a glass with a straw sticking out of it. “They said you could have little sips of water, and they trusted me to make sure they are little sips, Mr. Malone. So don’t get me into trouble!”
I smiled as best I could and waited for her to bring me a drink. She sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup parallel to my chin as she bent the straw and slid it in my mouth. I took a quick sip and let the cool liquid spread out across my parched mouth. She held it there until I took another sip, and by the third one, I could open my mouth and speak.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Who, me? I’m fine,” she laughed. “You were the one who took one for the team, mister!”
“I’m fine. What about Riza?” I asked.
“I’m not going to lie, she’s got a long road ahead of her,” she said. “She killed Lydia, and she tried to kidnap Roger and me. And while we’re willing to not press charges, she’s going to have a tough time with the murder charge.”
“Can you help her?” I asked before I bent my head forward to take another sip of water.
“Roger is going to help her get expert witnesses from the military to talk about PTSD and its effects, but she might very well have to do some time for Lydia’s murder,” she said. “I know it’s hard, but she needs help.”
“I know. I just wish I would have understood that before it got to this point,” I said as I looked away and tried not to think about my best friend in prison.
“Dax, it’s not your fault,” Brooke told me as she set the cup down and then very carefully lay down next to me so that her body was stretched out next to me. I could feel her warmth through the thin hospital blanket. She lightly rested her hand on my chest, and I lifted my other arm so I could lay mine over the top of hers. We lay there like that until the night nurse came in and told Brooke that visiting hours were over.
“Brooke?” I said as she gathered her things to prepare to go home for the night.
“Yes?” she turned and focused her bright blue eyes on me. I felt my heart expanding so fast that it felt painful in my chest. I winced a bit, and she rushed over. “Are you okay? Do you need the nurse?”
“No,” I whispered as I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair as I studied her face. “Brooke…I love you.”
She tipped her head and smiled warmly as she reached out and stroked my cheek. Then, she leaned down and lightly kissed my lips before she whispered, “I love you, too, Mr. Malone.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Brooke
I stopped by my parents after I left the hospital and checked in to see what Pop had heard in the newsroom.
“Well, if it isn’t my big fancy lawyer daughter,” he laughed as he crossed the kitchen to meet me at the front door.
“TONY RAINES!” my mother yelled at the top of her lungs. “How many times do I have to threaten to kill you before you stop walking on my freshly cleaned kitchen floor?”
“Apparently more than you already have,” my father said as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I needed to hug my daughter!”
“Well, fine then,” my mother grudgingly agreed as she, too, crossed the kitchen and pulled me into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay. If anything had happened to you…”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t, now did it?” I said as I pulled away and looked toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”
“Tony and Gina are bringing dinner over, didn’t I tell you?” my mother said as she returned to her mop and gave the floor one more swipe to clean up the prints my father had made.
“Nope, you sure didn’t!” I said as I sunk down in the comfy chair near the door and looked over at my father who had take up his position in the recliner. He looked up at me over the edge of his glasses and said, “You sure you’re okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah Pop. I’m fine, I promise,” I said raising my hand in a swearing in position.
“What’s happening at the firm?” he asked.
“Well, Roger is helping with Riza’s case. We think we can get her sentence reduced on the grounds that she was suffering from severe PTSD,” I said. “Jordie and I are handling all the other cases that are streaming in as the result of this exposure. I think we’re going to have to hire more help in the front of the office. Alma can’t keep up with all the calls and everything else!”
“That’s a good thing! Get her to organize the place and keep you all on track,” he laughed. My father had had several run-ins with Alma and come away from them re-thinking his entire office organizational policy. I thought he was nuts, but my mother said it had been a lifelong affliction.
“Where’s Beck?” my mother called from the kitchen. “He knows he’s welcome here anytime, right?”
“Mom, Beck doesn’t even know us,” I said. I had tried to remind my mother that she couldn’t just adopt everyone who came into my life. “Besides, I took him back to the rehab facility so he could finish his treatment. He wanted to be sober when Dax got out of the hospital.”
“When do they think that will be?” my father asked.
“Probably next week,” I replied. “They want to make sure the wound is healing properly and that there’s no infection.”
“He’s doing okay otherwise?” he asked as he looked at me pointedly.
“He’s fine, Pop. Why are you so nosy?” I laughed.
“I’m a reporter, it’s my job,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “Besides, it seems like you might like this guy or something.”
“Pop…” I warned.
“I know, I know, I’m not supposed to say anything about it,” he said waving me off. “Got it.”
“I should never have tru
sted you with that information. I thought as a reporter, you’d be safe!” I sighed. “I should have known better.”
My father pulled he paper down just enough so that I could see the twinkle in his eye as he smiled at me. He was happy that I’d met someone who loved me in all the ways that his difficult daughter needed.
“Hey, hey, hey! Whose hungry?” Teddy called as he pushed open the front door and walked through with a huge pot full of something that smelled like heaven. He looked at my father and me and quietly asked, “Mom mopping the floor again?”
We nodded as my mother yelled, “I heard that! Just don’t get my clean floor dirty!”
We all burst out laughing as Gina entered, carrying several full bags. I jumped up off the chair to help her as my father followed Teddy into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the pot.
I set the bags down and looked around at my family, marveling at how warm and welcoming they were and feeling excited about introducing Dax to them all.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Epilogue – Brooke
“Pop, what are you doing?” I cried as I looked at my father over my shoulder.
“Nothing, just checking something,” he said as he bent down and pulled something out of his shoe. He handed me a penny that had obviously been smashed by something enormous and said, “Here you go, kiddo. I’ve been saving this for this day.”
“Pop, what is this?” I asked as I turned it over and felt the smooth copper in my hand.
“It’s my lucky penny. I’ve had it since I was eight,” he smiled. I put it in all my shoes for good luck. I wanted you to have it today.
“Pop, where am I going to put this?” I asked as I looked down at my outfit and tried to think of where I could tuck the good luck charm.
“Oh, I didn’t really think about that,” he said as he looked me over and then kissed my cheek. “You really look beautiful, Brookie.”
“Oh, Pop, stop it,” I said as I tried not to let the tears well up and ruin my makeup.