Steel Rain: A Military Romance Collection

by A. Gorman

  I glanced at it and pulled out a notebook and pen from my sport coat. “Can I get your full name, please?”

  “Adria Green.”

  “And your position here?”

  “R.N. Just a nurse,” she smiled.

  “Tell me what you saw today, please. Don’t leave out any details.”

  “Sure,” she started. “I was sitting at the desk when I looked up and saw one of the orderlies go into Shane’s room. I assumed he was cleaning. I didn’t see him come out at all, because I had to run to a code blue. About an hour later, one of the cops, Jerry, who was guarding that room, asked where we took x-rays and I told him in radiology, then I asked why. He said some guy in scrubs had come in to get the patient over an hour ago for x-rays and they hadn’t returned. I became alarmed and checked the computer. Shane Watson wasn’t scheduled for x-rays. In fact, we would have no reason to x-ray him. The cop told me to call hospital security then he took off running toward the staircase. I called security and that was it.”

  “Anything else?” I asked, furiously jotting down her words.

  “I just need to add that if you don’t find that patient soon he could get sicker. We’ve stitched up his bullet wound but he was rockin’ a nasty infection and had only received about 24 hours’ worth of antibiotics. He needs a lot more than that. What did he do, anyway?”

  I looked into her curious brown eyes, and below the curiosity I saw a harshness there. Not anger but something like a fierce need to protect and help. I could tell this chick didn’t take any shit from patients or anyone else. “He’s wanted for attempted murder and attempted kidnapping, for starters.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. What a dirtbag. Well,” she looked around and lowered her voice and said, “then I hope that infection hurts like a son of a bitch right about now!”

  I chuckled and nodded. “I have no doubt we’ll find him again once he realizes that.”

  “Anything else, Officer?” she asked. “I gotta make rounds.”

  I ignored the officer comment and said, “No, thank you, Ms. Green. Here’s my card if you can remember anything else. Or just call Tampa PD. They know how to get ahold of me.”

  She shoved my card into a small pocket on the shirt of her scrubs and then pulled a piece of gum seemingly out of thin air and popped it into her mouth. With a wink she left me to go do her rounds.

  I liked that chick.

  I interviewed a few more nurses and a couple of orderlies, and they either did not see anything, or they gave the same account Adria had. What they all had in common was asking why Shane had to be guarded. I found it amusing, but gave them all the same vanilla answer I’d given Nurse Green.

  Once finished, I got into my car and took off toward the office. The anger at Watson escaping began to bubble up inside of me again. I raked my fingers down my beard and then punched the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

  As much as I wanted to place blame, I really couldn’t. Watson and his cronies weren’t as stupid as they looked. Well maybe they were, but they sure had a set of balls on them. But why spring Watson from custody? Why didn’t they just take off and go into hiding until it all blew over? An idea hit me and I floored the gas pedal so I could get back to the office.

  I sighed thinking of Rayanne. I hoped she didn’t have to get back on the stand today. I wanted to be there when she did. Make sure nobody harassed her. I wanted to watch her get into the government sedan and be taken safely home, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was well past 5 p.m. now and I knew court was already out.

  I parked and sprinted up the steps to the second floor and went straight back into the intelligence research specialist’s office. This is where all the guys and gals who support the agents sit all day. We call them “IRSes” and when we need a quick errand done, like looking up a license plate number or running a guy, these are our go-to people.

  “Hey, Smith,” I said, going straight to my favorite specialist. “Can you get ahold of the Pinellas County Jail and get some phone records pulled?”

  He set his cell phone down and looked up at me. Pushing his black framed glasses up further on his nose, he cracked knuckles littered with tattoos that stretched over his hands and I presumed all the way up his arm, although I wasn’t sure since his plaid dress shirt was only rolled to the elbows. The sides of his head were shaved and the lights glinted off the gel that slicked back the overgrown portion at the top. “I can just get into the system and check.” He typed quickly on the computer, seeming happy to have a job to do. I bit back a laugh at him. He was so damn awesome.

  Typing quickly, he stopped and looked up at me with wide hazel eyes. “What’s the prisoner’s name?”

  “Elmo Watson.”

  He began typing while I stood in the small, windowless room with five other specialists. Smith murmured, “That old man is so going to die in prison.”

  I gasped. “Wow. Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve been watching the courtroom cameras. That geezer is so guilty. I can just tell by his mannerisms. Okay what date do you need?”

  “Go back three days and tell me which numbers he’s called.”

  The county jail had finally adapted the same system the federal prisons had in which the inmates had to add numbers to their phone lists and could only call approved numbers, and had to pay by the minute to talk to them through money on their personal inmate accounts. Which was usually added on by outside funds from friends and family.

  “Okay, he calls the same number a lot. Hold on, let me run it real quick.” He clicked the mouse and we both looked to his other computer screen and up popped a name and address. “Emily Watson, 1855 Summer Court…”

  “That’s the wife. Any others?”

  “Yeah, there’s another here. It’s not a local area code. Let me run it.”

  He again clicked over to another program and ran the number. It came up unavailable. “Prepaid cell.”

  “Fuck, that’s what I thought. Okay, any others?”

  “No. Just the wife and that one.”

  I blew out a breath. “Okay write down the prepaid number for me and send me the audio on those calls.”

  Smith jotted the prepaid number down on a sticky note. “Anything else, Knight in Shining Armor?”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Are you Jack-N-Jill?”

  “Maybe, big guy.” He laughed and went back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone.

  I went to my desk and hung my jacket over my chair. I picked up the desk phone and dialed the agent’s number who was watching over Rayanne to check up on her. I couldn’t help myself.

  The agent didn’t seem to bat an eye at my call, and I realized that this particular agent did witness protection detail almost all the time. I guess some people actually liked it. When I thought about it, if you really had no family around and liked to travel, I suppose it would be for you. And while I fit those categories, I really had no patience for babysitting details. Especially after what had happened with Rayanne. As strong as I thought I was, it was clear I was weak when it came to beautiful, helpless women.

  But she really wasn’t that helpless. If I recall, she had resisted our help, but after a while, death threats and scary phone calls will whip anybody into submission and accepting help.

  “Dockins,” he answered.

  “This is Hawthorne. I’m just checking on the vic. She good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she have to testify today?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I breathed a silent sigh. “Cool. You tell her about Shane Watson?”

  “Yes.”

  One word answers, awesome. The vic was probably in the room.

  “You flirting with her, Dockins?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Two words this time. Sweet!

  “Good, ‘cause I’ll fuck you up.”

  He chuckled. “Noted.”

  “See you in court tomorrow.” I hung up.

  I loved fucking with that guy. He was like 5
0 and looked more like an accountant than an agent.

  Then I dialed the prepaid cell from my desk. We had no caller ID so the screen always read “unavailable” when I called someone. The phone rang three times and someone answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Who’s this?” I said.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he said back.

  I bit back a smile. “This is Orange.” I thought of the stupidest street name I could.

  “What the fuck you want, Orange?”

  “What do you got? Just looking to score, you know.”

  He sniffed and said, “Well you got the wrong dude. I ain’t no dealer.”

  “Yeah?” I said, mustering up more bullshit, “Well I ain’t interested in getting high, dumbass. I need you to take care of a guy.”

  That seemed to get his attention. “I ain’t doin’ this over the phone. We gotta meet.”

  I chuckled. “I agree. Name the place.”

  “The docks, 11 tomorrow tonight, Mr. Orange.”

  “It’s just Orange. And I need your name so I know who the fuck to ask for.”

  “Ace. See you tomorrow.” He hung up.

  I smiled and powered up my computer, knowing I needed to type my report from today. Then I had some more phone calls to make.

  Chapter 28

  Rayanne

  I pushed my food around on my plate. I was back to being sick to my stomach and ill with nerves. I can’t believe that asshole had escaped. What the hell? A tear dropped into my mashed potatoes and I shoved the plate away and stood up. I went into the kitchen to clean the dish and utensils Agent Dockins had used. I liked having him here, he was sweet and reminded me of my daddy. But he didn’t make me feel safe and protected like Duke did.

  Nobody did. Not even that Agent Diaz.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  Dockins, remote in hand, gave me a sideways overhand wave and continued to channel surf. “Goodnight, Rayanne. Sleep tight!”

  Okay, Mister Rogers.

  At least his gun was next to him. I really needed to get me one of those. My dad had plenty, and after this shit was over, I was so going to go over there and talk him into giving me a handgun to keep at home.

  You won’t need one if Duke is sleeping next to you, silly! my subconscious teased.

  “Piss off,” I told it.

  Talking to myself. Yeah, that’s healthy.

  I yanked off my clothes, threw them in the hamper in my closet, and tossed on a night shirt. Making sure my window was locked and there was nobody lurking outside, I climbed into the cool sheets alone. A glance at my bedside clock told me it was only 9:22 p.m. I fumbled around the nightstand for the remote and turned on the TV.

  The flickering lights from the program gave me no comfort. I rolled onto my right side and stared at the empty side of the bed with my hand under my head as warmth and comfort. The bed was pristinely made, flat and empty as I stared at it. Past the bed was a sliding glass door that led to a small balcony where I had a perfect view of the downtown baseball stadium – and on a clear day – the gulf waters. I wondered what life would be like if Duke Hawthorne were lying beside me, his chest heaving up and down in exhaustion as he’d just made love to me.

  My body would be trembling beside him, my legs made of gelatin from having been spread open for so long, my head on his chest. My short blonde hair would be splayed above my head while he stroked his fingers through it in appreciation of the ride I’d just taken him on.

  I felt a familiar yet foreign heat press down from my lower belly to the core of my body. It was scorching now, needing to be touched, doused, released. My fingers found it before I could analyze whether or not I should be doing it.

  Duke’s body materialized in my mind. His massive broad shoulders that bunched and moved as he lowered himself onto me. His hot kiss seared me all the way down to my very soul. His hard body pressed onto me, and as I raised my hips to meet his, he didn’t disappoint.

  My fingers found the spot that could release my pent-up frustrations. My demons. I worked the spot faster as if I was being paid to do so.

  The climb was excruciating and wonderful. It brought me up, then down, then up to a crescendo of screaming violins, then back down to the peaceful waters of a piano lullaby lulling me to sleep. After that – sleep sounded damn good.

  My head burrowed into the soft down of the pillow and I tried to think of Duke’s rare softness instead of his usual hard edges as I drifted off to sleep.

  Day three of court. Since Shane was on the loose again, they’d doubled my detail. I was now escorted by 4 agents instead of 2. They didn’t think Shane would come after me since I’d already testified, as he was still very sick, according to hospital staff. But – he did obviously still have people working with him so they weren’t taking chances. Even though they did not think Shane would come after me since I’d already testified, and that from what the hospital staff had told them, Shane was in no position to hurt anyone, as he was still very sick. He did obviously still have people working with him so they weren’t taking chances. Plus, I now ran the risk of him trying to kill me for no other reason than revenge if his father and uncle get convicted. What a nightmare. I stared unseeing and unhearing at more expert witnesses on the stand. The only happiness I got was knowing Duke was again sitting next to me, his hand intertwined around mine. The way his thumb stroked the top of my hand gave me comfort. The four agents were strategically placed around me. Duke had taken the place of one but the other sat on the opposite side. If he had seen us holding hands, he didn’t seem fazed. Two were seated in front of me, and one behind me. I had to admit I felt safe and loved. The only thing I didn’t like was the way Elmo had turned his head and smirked at me a couple of times. Evil bastard. I know why he was doing it, too. He somehow knew Shane had escaped. Both times Elmo had looked at me, Duke’s hand squeezed mine tighter and I could feel him tense and hear his breathy gasp. I didn’t have to look at the sexy man who was comforting me to know he wanted to kill Elmo Watson.

  The judge speaking captured my attention as she addressed the jury. “I think we all need a rest until tomorrow. Court is adjourned.”

  I looked at my watch, it wasn’t even noon yet. Turning to the agent next to me whose name I didn’t know or couldn’t remember, I said, “Is it all right if Agent Hawthorne takes me home?”

  His shiny black head reflected the lights of the now noisy courtroom as he shook it back and forth. He had kind, dark brown eyes as he said, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry but I cannot abandon a post until informed by my supervisor.”

  We were standing now, and Duke put his hand on my arm. “It’s almost over. I trust these agents with my life, you will be okay.” His stormy blue eyes looked straight into mine, an unspoken promise that we’d be seeing each other again real soon dwelling there.

  I relaxed a little and said, “Okay.”

  I left with the four agents, but the only one on my mind was the fifth one who wasn’t allowed to be with me.

  When we were back to my condo, it was just Agent Dockins and the other guy, Jones. I made them lunch simply to keep myself busy and they were happy when I served it to them as they watched TV. I had made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and managed to eat about half before I wasn’t hungry any longer. I couldn’t stop the nerves in my stomach. Anxious about the danger my life was still in. Anxious and frankly lovesick over Duke. The longer we spent apart, the more I felt drawn to him like a magnet. There was no way, when this was all over, that I was going to be able to stay away from him. I wanted him so badly. I needed to fall asleep wrapped up in his big, protective arms every night. I needed to look into his eyes and know that I’d broken through that hard shell of his. I wanted to feel proud that I had been the one to do it. I laughed to myself as I collected the dishes and washed them. I had no idea if Duke had been in love before. Maybe he’d been married before. Oh, my God. Did he have any kids? I didn’t know any of that. I was dying to find out, though.

  Please, ju
ry, find a verdict by tomorrow. I can’t take much more of this.

  Chapter 29

  Duke

  After getting back to the office after court, I knew I had to come up with some bullshit plan before the meeting with “Ace” tonight. I also believed I was back in good graces with Jeffrey because the look on his face when I had told him I had a lead on the suspect who I believed had lifted Watson from the hospital was priceless. He was completely onboard with whatever we wanted to do to catch this piece of shit. In the end, we made a simple decision. One of our undercovers would meet with Ace and pretend to be Orange, while another three agents, myself being one, would follow the dirtbag after he met with the undercover. Seemed simple enough.

  When the workday was over, I again called to check on my girl.

  My girl. Holy shit.

  “Dockins.”

  “How’s the vic?”

  “Alive,” he answered.

  “Who’s on detail with you?” I asked.

  “Jones.”

  I chuckled. “Motherfucka Jones?”

  He gasped and said, “Not funny.”

  “If the FBI had wanted you to have a sense of humor, they would have issued you one, right?”

  “Right,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “You eyeballin’ the vic’s tits, Dockins?” I asked.

  “Never.”

  “Are you gay, Dockins?”

  “I do not believe I have to answer that,” he replied.

  I chuckled again. “I’ll take that as a yes. Sweet. Where’s the vic now?”

  “Barefoot in the kitchen where she belongs.”

  I ignored the dig. He was trying to rile me up. “Put Jones on.”

  I heard the phone get passed.

  “Jones.”

  “Motherfucka, you flirting with the vic?”

  “No, sir,” he said right away.