A Wedding for Christmas (Sweet Holiday Romance) (A Veteran's Christmas Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  6

  ~ Kelly ~

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Tyler crawls back into bed with me. He smells like wet dog, and he’s still wearing his work clothes, but I reach for him and pull him to my side.

  “I’ll try harder,” he mumbles groggily. “I’ll set an alarm.”

  I hug him and close my eyes. “Let’s not think about it right now. I can handle everything except for the dog.”

  “Dog’s my responsibility. You and the kids are my responsibility.”

  “Yes, but we shouldn’t be a drag on you.” I place my hand on his chest right over his heart. “Living in the city, working two crazy jobs to afford the high prices here, sometimes I wonder if we’d be better off moving somewhere else.”

  “I’m starting to feel the same way, too. Especially after that incident in Golden Gate Park. Did you find out anything about the guy who took pictures of Bree?”

  “Matt’s mother thought it was you.”

  Tyler blinks and sits up partway. “So you’re telling me there’s a crazy stalker running around Golden Gate Park taking pictures of children?”

  “Yes. Sheryl called the police and of course, they have our report. We don’t want to scare the kids so we agreed not to make a big deal out of it.” I explain that Sheryl had called me back after speaking to the police. “Maybe you and Bree should take a different path through the park.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he agrees. “Never have a routine. That way the enemy can never know when or where to expect you.”

  That philosophy pretty much sums up Tyler and his haphazard way through life.

  Me? I need everything planned and organized to the last detail. Otherwise, I’m buried with worry and stress.

  “It’s been quite a day.” I glance at the bedside clock. “We have to be up in four hours, and I’m not sure I can fall asleep.”

  “You’re not happy, are you?” He cradles his head under his arm and focuses on me.

  “It’s not a matter of me being happy. I have so much on my plate with the wedding and Christmas coming up, Arman’s birthday party, the year end accounting I do for the charities.” I wave my hand, letting out a tired breath.

  “Hey, it’ll all work out.” He takes my hand and rubs it.

  Easy for him to say. He’s not doing anything except providing the best man and ring bearer.

  “Let’s not discuss it now.” I glance nervously at the clock. “Soon it’ll be time to wake up the kids, feed them and get them off to daycare and school. Oh, and for you to walk Brownie again. I have a meeting with the caterer, and Bree has a Christmas play she has to practice for, and I have to get the invitations out for Arman’s party. And you woke me up. It’s going to be hard falling back asleep. And if Bree or Arman have a nightmare, or you have one …”

  He leans in and kisses me. “I’ll take care of them. You sleep. Okay?”

  I close my eyes and cuddle with him. “I’ll try. But sometimes I feel like I’m falling apart.”

  “I know the feeling.” He wraps me in his arms and rubs my back. “Maybe we should elope. Forget about all the parties and planning. Me, you, Bree, Arman, and Brownie. We can rent a motorhome and take off.”

  His typical response to stress is to run away—like he did last year when he spent most of it in Afghanistan. Maybe he’s starting to feel footloose again. Being tied to me can’t be much fun.

  “We can’t elope. We’ve sunk in too much. We put down deposits. There’d be cancellation fees, and all the guests who are flying in will have to cancel their flights. Everyone will be upset.”

  “Then let’s not worry that everything has to be perfect. If something goes wrong, let it.” He kisses the top of my head. “The important thing is we’re together and a family. It’ll all be okay. Trust me.”

  “Even if Bree’s heart is broken when she finds out Matt isn’t going to be ring bearer?”

  “She’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

  When he says it so reassuringly, his voice deep and strong, I almost believe him.

  I need to believe him.

  Unless he runs again, and then, where would I be?

  ~ Tyler ~

  Tyler adjusted his night vision goggles and motioned his men into position. The mud-brick compound was surrounded by heaps of rubble topped with tangled razor wire.

  Guards patrolled the watch towers, but under cover of the moonless night, Tyler and his team were well hidden.

  They crept closer to the gaps of rubble, and waited for the men inside the compound to go to sleep.

  Wails, screams, and sounds of violence floated from the shacks behind the rubble, where sex slaves were being beaten and raped.

  Tyler gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to charge in and shoot. It would be suicidal, since they were outnumbered, and it would give away the element of surprise.

  Beside him, his men twitched with anger and exchanged glares filled with disgust. He knew every one of them wanted nothing more than to slaughter all the men and free all the sex slaves.

  But they had to wait until the men were separated from the women to minimize civilian casualties.

  Tyler muttered a prayer under his breath and waited for the men to tire of their raping and beating.

  One by one, the lights dimmed in the compound, and Tyler gave the signal. His men had the compound surrounded as they slipped through the gaps of rubble.

  Each man was assigned a shack or building.

  Tyler kicked in the door of a mud brick building and shot the man guarding it. Scattered bursts of machine gun fire peppered the compound as the Rangers went door to door.

  Women cowered and screamed, huddled in the corners, and men returned fire when they could.

  The firefight lasted less than half an hour, and Tyler took control of the compound. He radioed to the helicopters to airlift out the hostages and sex slaves.

  “Zulu, where are you?” Tyler shouted at the frightened women. His orders were to extract only Zuleika, the American soldier, but he wasn’t going to leave the other women behind.

  “Come with us,” the soldiers yelled.

  Many of the women ran with them to the helicopters, but others remained confused and paralyzed with fear.

  “Zulu!” Tyler kicked down doors and searched room by room. Time was running out, and he needed to get everyone to safety before enemy reinforcements arrived from the village.

  All around him were the screams and cries of the sex slaves, but Zulu wasn’t among them.

  “We have to go,” Tyler’s second-in-command said through the earpiece. “The guys in the air saw a convoy of jeeps heading this way.”

  “I’m not leaving until I find Zulu. You guys go ahead,” Tyler spoke into his comm unit.

  “How do you know she’s even alive? They could have moved her.”

  “Go now, those are my orders.” Tyler ducked behind a low wall as an attack helicopter trained its guns at a line of jeeps.

  One by one, the laden rescue helicopters took off to a hail of gunfire from the ground. Tyler crossed his fingers, praying his team would escape, but he wasn’t leaving without Zulu.

  As the enemy turned their attention to the helicopters, Tyler snuck behind them and went from shack to shack. The coppery stench of blood and burnt flesh made his stomach turn as he trod over dead bodies.

  A closed door stood at the end of a dark, narrow hallway, splattered with blood. Tyler stood at the threshold and pushed open the door.

  A body slammed into him and covered his goggles with blood. Tyler flicked on the light at the end of his M4 machine gun and pointed it at the body.

  Shockwaves slammed his gut and he jerked the muzzle of the gun to the side to avoid shooting. A naked woman covered with blood hung by her wrists from the ceiling.

  “Kill me,” she moaned in English. “Shoot me, now.”

  Her entire body was covered with cuts, and she bled profusely from fresh wounds. She was in the middle of being tortured when the firefight started.


  Tyler cut the ropes, and cradled the woman in his arms. “Zulu?”

  “Kill me. Please, kill me.” The voice was Zulu’s, although slurred and almost incoherent.

  “I’m taking you home.” Tyler set her on a dirty mattress and ripped clothes off the dead men in the hallway.

  Explosions and sounds of gunfire reverberated through the compound, and bright orange flames crackled through the window. Women screamed and men shouted. Death and destruction surrounded them.

  “Kill me, Tyler. Kill me,” Zuleika begged while he forced clothing onto her.

  “Get on your feet, soldier, and walk.” Tyler wrapped her head with a scarf. “That’s an order.”

  “No, kill me. Kill me now. Kill me.”

  “Kill me. Kill me now! Kill me,” Tyler shouted and jerked himself from the bed. He stared at the alarm clock, wondering where it had come from.

  A woman’s eyes widened and she shook him. “Tyler, wake up. Tyler. Are you okay?”

  “Zulu?” He breathed hard and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Where are you?”

  “It’s me, Kelly.”

  Gradually, the woman’s face came into focus and Tyler blinked. A large dog howled in the vicinity, and the alarm clock’s numbers changed.

  “I have to find Zulu.” Tyler’s heart raced, and his pulse pounded behind his ears. “I shouldn’t have left her behind.”

  “Left who behind?” Kelly wiped her hand across his forehead. “You had a bad dream.”

  “It’s not a dream. It’s a message.” Tyler jumped from the bed. His legs were shaking, and every nerve in his body was on fire. “I have to find her before she kills herself.”

  “Hold it.” Kelly grabbed his arm. “Is this the Army buddy you were talking about?”

  “Yes, I need to find her. I need to stop her.” He extricated himself from her. “I shouldn’t have given up. That last hooker said she knew her. I have to go.”

  Kelly looked at the clock. “It’s five o’clock in the morning, and we have to get the kids up soon. You have to walk the dog, and it’s a work day. You can’t go out there now.”

  “Don’t worry about the dog,” Tyler said. “I’m taking Brownie with me. He’ll track her down. I’m sure of it.”

  Zulu had left her tattered blanket at the restaurant and Tyler had kept it in his truck. It would have her scent, and it would only be a matter of time before Brownie picked it up and led Tyler straight to her.

  If it wasn’t too late.

  7

  ~ Kelly ~

  It’s finally Friday, but I can’t catch a break. All week, I’ve been rushing between work, picking up the kids, and meeting with the wedding consultant. Tyler, meanwhile, is gone early in the morning and comes home late at night. The only saving grace is he takes Brownie with him. He’s convinced his boss that the search for Zulu is good public relations for the charity.

  I feel bad for this woman, whoever she is. Tyler’s heart is so big, he’s dropping everything from his plate to find her. He has a fanatical zeal in his eye as he talks about rescuing her from being a sex slave, and of course, since she was a friend, he has a personal interest in her.

  Tyler and I always have date nights on Friday, but I’m not counting on him showing up tonight. My mother, bless her heart, is waiting for me at my door after I pick up Bree and her playdate, Lilly Chow, from school.

  “Nana!” Bree greets her with a hug. “Lilly wants to be a flower girl, too. Can we have two flower girls at the wedding?”

  “What happened to the ring bearer?” my mother asks and glances at me.

  “I hate him,” Bree says, pouting and crossing her arms. “He’s going to a Christmas party instead.”

  “It’s not Matt’s fault.” I feel obliged to defend him, even though I’m secretly relieved she’s over the boy. “His family has things planned already.”

  “Did you ask Lilly’s mother whether she could be the flower girl?” My mother pats Bree’s shoulder, consoling her.

  I set Arman in his car seat on the stoop and dig for my keys, while Lilly stands there, wobbling from one leg to the other, looking like she needs to go to the bathroom.

  “Let’s talk about this after we eat,” I say as I unlock the door. Nothing against Lilly or anyone else, but after Matt’s mother reamed me for asking him to miss Christmas in favor of standing around at my wedding, I’m not sure I want to involve any more people. At this point, I just want to get the wedding over with.

  As I suspected, Lilly ran for the bathroom while I bring Arman, still strapped in his car seat, into the house. Even though our neighborhood is supposedly not a bad one, thieves have been known to break windows and steal car seats.

  Arman wakes up as soon as I set his car seat down, and Mother swoops to the rescue before he can even let out a cry. She picks him up and takes him to the bedroom to change his diaper.

  He’s a sweet little baby, and the one Tyler and I had together. We don’t say anything in front of Bree, but Tyler and I enjoy pointing out Arman’s features and claiming them. He has his father’s blue eyes, but he definitely has the Kennedy nose and chin.

  Lilly comes out of the bathroom, and she joins Bree in attacking her closet where we keep her princess dresses and dance costumes. They love playing dress-up, and it should occupy them until dinnertime.

  Whether Tyler and I go out or not, I still have to fix dinner for my mother and the kids, so I go to the kitchen and pull food from the refrigerator.

  My mother brings the baby back to the kitchen where I’m boiling macaroni.

  “Is Tyler going to be home soon?” she asks. “He needs to help you more.”

  “He’s out with the dog.” Technically, this is true, although my mother’s going to criticize him even more if he fails to show up for date night.

  She sets Arman in his highchair and opens a jar of baby food. “I hope he takes you somewhere nice tonight. You’ve been working so hard with the wedding planning. He ought to appreciate you for pulling it together single-handed.”

  “True, but in his mind, the wedding is for me, you, and Bree—us women. All he has to do is show up.”

  “What really happened with the ring bearer?” Mother’s eyebrow rises. “I thought Bree had a crush on him.”

  “Oh, you know kids. Hot and cold. I’m glad she’s taking it so well.”

  The front door opens and Bree shouts, “Papa!”

  My heart lights up, too, and I wait for Bree and Arman to get their kisses before it’s my turn.

  “Lilly and I are going to be flower girls at the wedding,” Bree says, jumping into Tyler’s arms.

  “I’m sure you two will be beautiful flower girls.” Tyler gives Bree a loud kiss on the cheek. Both girls squeal in agreement, chattering at the same time about how much fun it would be to throw petals throughout the entire church.

  Brownie pads into the kitchen, wagging his tag and begging a pat from me. I give him a hug and a thorough head rub. He’s a huge dog and takes up all the space between the refrigerator and stove.

  I fill his water dish and give him a large scoop of dog food. He licks my hand and wags his tail, and my heart melts. I’m truly thankful he was there for Tyler, and he’s a good watchdog, too.

  “Da! Da!” Arman shouts from the highchair as soon as Tyler appears in the kitchen. He gives me a shy wink and then swoops his son from the chair.

  I get a warm, bubbly feeling in my chest at the sweet family scene, and it’s times like this that give me hope we can work it out. Tyler and I might be opposites in terms of organizational skills and priorities, but he definitely steals the scene whenever he’s around.

  I stir the pot, waiting for my turn, but when I look around, all I see is him walking away from the kitchen. I’m not sure if my jaw is still attached to my face, because it hit the floor hard.

  He walked away from me.

  My mother’s eyes pop wide, but she pretends nothing happened and goes back to feeding Arman. “Open up for the airplane. Brrrrr
…”

  My cheeks are hot, as I sniff and blink while chopping onions. What kind of marriage am I getting into? My mother has questioned me before, saying I do more for the relationship than he does. Back when Tyler was homeless and suffering with PTSD, I took him in and gave him comfort and support.

  I go to his therapy sessions, encourage him with his work, accommodate his changing plans, and pick up more than my share of the household duties. I also pay the bills, do the taxes, and keep track of our finances as well as the doctor and dentist appointments.

  Good, old, dependable Kelly. Always reliable. Always with a plan, someone you can count on.

  Maybe the only reason he’s with me is because I’m available. I provide him stability, a home, food, love, children, and even feed his dog.

  Could it be he’s not active with the wedding planning because he’s not enthusiastic about marrying me? He’ll do it because it’s convenient, but he’s not going to lift a finger to help me—not with the same fervor he goes out every day looking for Zulu.

  I dash the back of my hand across my eyes. I can’t be jealous of her. She’s had a hard life and is still on the skids. She needs help, and I hope Tyler can give her a lifeline, or at least introduce her to the veterans aid groups.

  “Are you crying about the onions or something else?” Tyler says from behind me.

  Blinking, I turn my head. He holds a bouquet of flowers, and he grins at me like a teenager on his first date. How can I resist?

  My worries fly away as I reach for the flowers and let him wrap his arms around me. “You surprised me.”

  “Why would you be surprised with me loving you?” He gives me a peck on the lips.

  I let myself melt into his embrace. I have no answer to his question. Of course, I’m a worrier and a doubter, and he would never understand.

  He peels the apron from me and tosses it on the counter. “I brought takeout, so you might as well throw out those onions and drain the macaroni.”