Half-Broke Heart (Combat Hearts #1.5)

by Tarina Deaton

  Even though she couldn’t see it, she tried to look over her shoulder at the tattoo that took up a good portion of her back. “Joan of Arc, patron saint of soldiers and the Women’s Army Corps.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “I got her after we completed the CST training course.”

  “Appropriate. Are these smoke tendrils?”

  She raised her arm, exposing the underside of her breast. “It’s not supposed to be, but I can see how it looks like that. It’s supposed to be wind blowing the pennant she’s holding. There are scars there I wanted to cover up.”

  His fingers followed the ink back and he palmed her breast. “Scars from what?”

  “IED blast. It detonated early, so no one was seriously injured, but I took some shrapnel between the plates of my vest.”

  His head came down and he sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. “I was going to say it was a really good boob job because this baby feels totally real.”

  That deserved a smack against the back of his head.

  “Hey! It was a compliment.”

  She mocked glared at him, trying not to let how good his mouth felt on her show on her face. Her legs were restless and she dragged her foot against his calf.

  Grinning down at her, he said, “I can see how what I said might not have been taken as a compliment.”

  “Do you?” God, his smile made her insides jump and twist. His playfulness, especially in bed, made him seem like a little kid at an amusement park and her body was the best ride there.

  “I’m willing to learn from the error of my ways.”

  “Huh. How do you plan on doing that?”

  He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him and spreading her legs so she straddled his hips, keeping them chest to chest. His hands stretched wide and smoothed up the back of her legs, to the juncture of her thighs. One of his fingers circled her slick opening, before slowing sliding in.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and she groaned.

  Chris pulled her head down until their lips brushed against each other. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Denise’s phone pinged on her nightstand, pulling her out of her semi-sleep. Lying on her side, she was pressed up against Chris’s back, an arm draped over his waist and a leg thrown over his hips. She rolled to her back and stared at the plain, flat ceiling.

  She hadn’t dreamed. Or, if she had, she didn’t remember it. There was always a sense of what she’d dreamed, usually helplessness or grief, even if she didn’t wake up with the details. Turning her head, she looked at Chris’s back. What if and maybe whispered in her head. What if she could be really happy? Maybe with someone who understood there would be times that would be difficult? Maybe it wouldn’t end up being with Chris, but staring at his broad back, watching his ribs rise and fall, she felt something deep in her chest she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Hope.

  Her phone pinged again and she grabbed it off the nightstand.

  Bree was attacked. Air evac’d to Duke-Raleigh.

  She bolted upright. “What the fuck?”

  Chris shot up next to her. “What?”

  Pressing the call button next to Jase’s name, she kicked free of the covers and lunged across the room toward her dresser.

  “Jase. What the hell?” she asked when he finally answered.

  “Her assistant attacked her.”

  She yanked her underwear over her hips. “Cindy?” There was no way. “Quiet, nice, says ‘golly-darn,’ Cindy?

  “Deranged, homicidal Cindy. If that’s Bree’s assistant, then yeah, that Cindy.”

  “Fuck.” Shoving the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she pulled a sports bra out of a drawer. “How long ago? Is she at the hospital yet? Who found her?

  “I don’t know all the details yet. Tim called twenty minutes ago and said she was in critical condition and they were rushing her to Raleigh.”

  She yanked the bra over hear head. “What about Gran?”

  “Tim called her first.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way.” Ending the call, she threw the phone on the end of the bed and snatched a shirt and shorts out of the dresser.

  “What’s going on?” Chris had put on his boxers while she’d been talking to Jase.

  Pulling her shirt over her head, she said, “Bree was attacked. She’s being taken to Duke-Raleigh Hospital.”

  “Do they know who attacked her?” He sat on the bed and slid his legs into his jeans. Good to know he did it like normal folk.

  “Jase said it was her assistant.”

  He grabbed his shirt from the floor. “You don’t think so?”

  She twisted her hair up into a messy bun. “I don’t know. If I’d had to pick someone to be Bree’s stalker, she never would have been on the list. I don’t know. They always say it’s the quiet ones.” She braced her hands on her hips and stared at the floor, having a hard time picturing Cindy trying to attack Bree.

  A deep, low whine came from the other side of her bedroom door. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she opened the door and bent to Sprocket. “I’m okay, girl. Just a little worried. We’re gonna go see Bree.” Sprocket licked at her chin and Denise pulled her head back out of slobber rang.

  “She can sense your moods from another room?” Chris asked, standing behind her.

  “I guess so. She’s usually not that far from me.” She stood and stepped around the dog.

  “How do you mean?”

  “She has a bed in my room, so if I’m asleep, she’s still close to me.” She slid her feet into her flip-flops beside the door.

  “Oh. Sorry I kicked you out of your bed.”

  Denise looked over her shoulder to find Chris scratching Sprocket behind the ear. It was a first. There’d never been a reason for her to close her bedroom door before. She hadn’t even done it, Chris had.

  Snatching her keys and wallet from the table in the entryway, she grabbed Sprocket’s vest from the hook on the wall and opened the door. Sprocket went ahead of her and Chris followed her out. She locked the deadbolt and jogged down the stairs.

  At the bottom of the stairs Chris wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Hey. Hang on a sec. I know you’re in a hurry. Do you want me to go with you?”

  She swallowed and licked her lips. Yes. And no. The hospital wasn’t the place to explain why she and Chris were together. Hell, she hadn’t even had a chance to tell Bree they’d hooked up. “No. I don’t know how long it’s going to be. I’m sure you need to be at work tomorrow.”

  “Won’t be the first time I’ve gone to work dragging ass.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  She smiled. “It’s alright.” Maybe she was being ungracious, but this was all still new and unfamiliar. Her parents, Bree, and Susan were the only ones she leaned on.

  And she’d never been the type to let anyone carry her burden for her anyway.

  His lips were soft and firm at the same time. “I’ll call you later and see how you’re doing.”

  Deep down—way, way deep down—she could admit it felt nice that someone other than family was worried about her.

  RV30

  Rendezvous in thirty-minutes.

  Shit. That was not the message he was expecting. Chris dropped his head onto the headrest of the drivers seat and rubbed his forehead. Damn it! He wanted to call Denise and let her know, but protocol dictated he cease all unencrypted communication and make his way to the rendezvous point.

  He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and growled deep in his throat. Fuck. Powering down his phone, he threw it onto the passenger seat and took a deep breath.

  He had to trust Denise would understand when he got the chance to fill her in. If Phil was at the rendezvous point, he’d make sure he passed a message to Denise—let her know what was going on and that he’d contact her as soon as he got back from this op.

  Whenever that was.

  Chapter 13
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br />   Denise checked her phone one more time before slipping it into her pocket. She eased into Bree’s hospital room.

  “Jase,” she 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 him in the ribs. “Get out. My turn.” She held his stare for several moments. He was not going to win this argument, even if it was silent. She needed time with her best friend.

  He sighed and rolled out of the bed. Turning, he leaned down and brushed Bree’s hair back from her face. “Careful of her arm.”

  “No shit.” Denise pushed him out of the way and crawled up on the bed. Grasping Bree’s fingers, she moved her arm onto her chest and lay down facing her. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Weak.”

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

  “Is there water?”

  She looked over her shoulder, but Jase already had the cup ready. He angled the straw so Bree could drink. When she was finished, he walked around the end of the bed and sat next to Bree’s legs.

  “What’s the rule?” Denise demanded.

  Bree shook her head.

  “Don’t take stupid chances.”

  “Didn’t have much of a choice. She was in my house when I got home.”

  She touched her forehead to Bree’s. “You scared me,” she whispered. “Don’t do it again.” She’d never been so worried in her life. Not even when Susan had received her diagnosis. Maybe because she’d had time to come to terms with the news, but Bree’s attack had shaken her to her core.

  “Agreed.”

  “What do y’all think you’re doin’?”

  Denise craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Nurse Mary Ann stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Get off that poor girl.” She stormed forward and waved her hand at Jase, as if shooing away a fly, and smacked Denise on the leg. “Off. Bad enough someone tried to fillet her like a fish, she doesn’t need y’all piling on top of her.”

  Dense rolled off the edge of the bed and pulled her phone from her back pocket, shooting a text to Gran to let her know Bree was awake.

  “You look like crap,” Bree told Jase.

  Denise huffed out a short laugh. “I told him to go home and take a shower.” He’d refused. She’d finally relented and driven out to his house to grab him some clean clothes. Thankfully, Bree’s room had a shower so he hadn’t been able to build up any manly funk. She had enough issues with hospital smell.

  “He wouldn’t leave your side,” Mary Ann added. “Called in the big guns when we tried to kick him out.”

  “Big guns?” Bree asked.

  “Gran,” Jase said.

  “Where is she?”

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

  Denise stepped out of Mary Ann’s way when she left to get more bandages, then sat in the chair close to the door. “I sent her a text to let her know you were awake. She’ll be here soon.”

  “How long have I been here?” Bree asked.

  “Three days,” she said.

  “Three days?” Bree’s 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,” Bree said.

  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 her off before she could ask whether Cindy had told Bree why she went whack-a-doodle. After the nurse, it was the doctor, then Detective Johnson came in. He asked Bree all the questions Denise had rattling in her brain.

  Jesus. It all came down to a guy. She could see how much Cindy’s break was affecting Bree, though. Tears welled up from her tightly closed eyes and rolled down her face.

  Fuck the nurses. They could try to kick her out of Bree’s room. Jase moved up the bed and leaned over Bree, and Denise lay down in the bed again, carefully wrapping her arm around her. After a few moments, she wiped some of Bree’s tears away.

  “Just think of all the new stuff you’ll have to talk to Dr. Tailor about. She’s probably sick of hearing about the same old shit.

  Bree snorted and blew out a snot bubble.

  Denise threw back her head and laughed, almost rolling herself off the bed.

  “Get me a tissue, you cow.”

  It was probably a good thing Bree couldn’t use her arm, because she would have pushed Denise off the bed if she’d been able. Bree blew her nose with a tissue Jase handed her.

  The detective left, telling Bree he would likely have more questions later. Her yawn was so huge, Denise was surprised her jaw didn’t pop.

  “I’m going to head out,” she said. “Gran texted while you were talking to the detective. She’ll be here around two. Plenty of time to take a nap.”

  “Okay.”

  She laid her forehead against Bree’s again. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Me, too.”

  She kissed Bree’s cheek and eased out of the bed. “Later, Jase.”

  Eavesdropping was bad, but she couldn’t help letting the door close slowly to watch her best friend and her man.

  “I love you,” he said. “Snot bubbles and all. You can’t ever leave me, Bree. For…”

  Shit. That was too personal. She had a sudden to desire to talk to Chris.

  Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she unlocked the screen. Still no missed calls or texts. She stopped in the middle of the hall.

  “Ma’am?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw she’d stopped right in front of a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair.

  “Sorry.” She stepped out of the way. Jeez, her situational awareness was shit at the moment.

  He hadn’t called or sent her a text. It’d been days since Bree’s attack. Had he said for her to call or that he’d call? Was this the three day rule?

  She shook her head. No. That wasn’t his style. He’d never been shy about being in her space. But…not even a text?

  Glancing up, she made sure her path to the elevator was unobstructed, then let her thumbs fly across the screen. She hit send as she reached the elevator bank.

  Message undeliverable

  Stupid hospitals. Bree had told her the surgeons at Fort Bragg used old style flip phones as their on-call phones because of the shielding in the hospital. She exited the elevators and tried to send the text again as soon as she cleared the exterior doors.

  Message undeliverable

  Her brow furrowed. She had five dots now that she was out of the hospital. She pressed the call button and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

  What the hell? Staring at the phone in her hand, she tried again. Same message.

  What. The. Fuck. She shook her head and stalked to her SUV. Wrenching the door open, she climbed in and slammed the door shut.

  Think rationally. Don’t let the crazy chick take over. Because that bitch wanted to drive over to his house and pound on the door until he answered, then kick him in the nuts before demanding an explanation for why he hadn’t called her like he said and then dropped off the face of the earth.

  Not caring to look too closely at her reaction to the situation, she started the SUV and pulled out of the parking spot. She worked on ca
lming her breathing and the heart that felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of her rib cage.

  There was a reason. It might suck, but there was always a reason.

  Denise pulled to the curb in front of Bree’s house, shifted to neutral, and set the brake. She rested her head on the steering wheel and fought the urge to go back home. Bree was expecting her and Denise was running out of excuses. Bree was also getting suspicious of Denise’s excuses and had all but threatened to have Jase drive her to Denise’s if she didn’t haul her butt over.

  Four days since she’d learned Chris’s phone had been disconnected. Three days of beating back the urge to find him, chase him down, and demand to know why. Two days of feeling like someone had tied a lead balloon to something inside her that dragged her down and made it hard to move.

  Sprocket whined and pressed her cold nose against Denise’s cheek. She cringed at the feeling of slobber on her cheek and scratched her dog under the chin. “I’ll be okay. It’s what we do.”

  She turned off the engine and held the door open while Sprocket jumped down. Trudging up the yard to the side of the house, she tried to fluff up her happy before she went inside. Bree would see right through her, so she had to at least put in a good effort at faking it. No sense in upsetting Bree with everything she’d just been through.

  “Honey…I’m home!” She hung her keys on the hook by the door and kicked off her sandals under the bench in the mud room then made her way into the kitchen. Charlie trotted around the corner to greet Sprocket, his butt wagging non-stop. “Anyone here?”

  “We’re in the living room,” Bree called.

  “I’m going to grab some tea, do you need anything?”

  “We’re good,” Bree said, crossing the threshold from the living room. She was still a little pale, dark circles prominent under her eyes.

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Denise asked.

  “My arm was cut. I wasn’t struck by lightning.”

  Hello, belligerence. “I take it Jase wants you to rest more?”

  “I threatened to punch him in the balls again.” She cocked a hip and rested it against the counter. “Told him it wouldn’t matter to me since he wasn’t letting me play with them anyway.”