True
beginnings
The Lost and Found Series
Book Three
Amanda Mackey
TRUE BEGINNINGS
Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Mackey.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: September 2018
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-428-0
ISBN-10: 1-64034-428-4
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter One
Viper
It had stolen me. War. Battle. The thrill of being in mortal combat and danger. Not knowing one moment to the next whether I’d still be breathing. Walking. Talking.
I hated that I loved it. Like a strange sickness, it shackled its hooks into my psyche and refused to let go.
Even now, slumped over my wooden kitchen table drinking harsh black coffee at three a.m. because war-induced insomnia wouldn’t let me settle for too long, my right leg jiggled nervously, as if in anticipation of the next phone call. The next mission. I had all my gear packed and ready to go at a second’s notice, my brain never truly relaxing into civilian mode.
Weeks had passed since my best friend Declan Harding traded his life for his girlfriend, Mac’s. She’d been taken from University Hospital at gunpoint, where she worked as a nurse and held hostage in a bid to lure Dec straight to the enemy. Live bait. It had worked too. But there had been no way in hell I was letting him die by the very scumbags we hunted in battle. Not on my watch. I’d witnessed our buddy Reno dying while we watched helplessly, and I would gladly sacrifice myself before letting anything happen to my brother from another mother.
It just so happened that the outcome had been favorable, and even though he still had deep issues which he dealt with daily, Mac held him up good and proper. I envied what they had. A connection so strong, they could literally sense when the other entered a room before actually seeing them. A need to support the other so strongly, it surpassed all else. They’d found what most people wanted, and every day I could see that bond grow even stronger. He needed her and she needed him. So simple. Together they could overcome anything.
Outwards, I appeared normal, even to those closest to me. Even Dec. But the visions and constant torment between good and evil never really abated. I existed on autopilot. Smiling when required. Eating. Sleeping on and off when the nightmares allowed it.
Every time I walked down the street, past regular folk, I wondered if they could see through my façade. They all went about their daily lives, ensconced in trivial drama, feeling as if the weight of the world lived on their shoulders. Whining about their favorite television show ending, boyfriend or girlfriend drama, missing the bus. I listened closely to strangers’ chatter. How they made mountains out of molehills. Did they really understand the gravity of true stress? Perhaps a small minority with life-threatening illnesses or loss of loved ones. Those who battled with abuse and alcoholism. Mental illness. That small percentage would understand my pain. The rest had no idea what it was like to stare into the eyes of a friend and comrade while his throat was slit, watching the fear in his eyes. The pleading to help, all the while knowing you can’t. Trying to calm young men with limbs blown off while trying to survive yourself. Mothers and children gunned down seconds before you can reach them. Not to mention babies being left amongst rubble of bombed villages. Some dead, others dirty, hungry and parentless. No. I’d say most people had no fucking idea what true fear meant. So it pissed me off big time to live in a society where everyone sweated the small stuff…sometimes the biggest drama being the internet being cut off.
I’d been on medication way too long and probably would be for the rest of my life, but after the last assignment of saving Dec and Mac, I wondered if the two small tablets were cutting it anymore. Seeing my best friend walk to his death cut me to the bone and shifted something further in my already messed up head. That’s why I only ever averaged about four hours’ sleep a night before I woke to a vision. One of the thousands my head had tried to process over the years.
Doctors had put me on the highest dose of anti-depressants possible, so with them becoming less effective, the only way to slake my thirst for the adrenalin kick of combat was to wait for the call to go on another mission. It was truly fucked up, because war had screwed me up in the first place and now I needed it to survive.
Downing the last of my black coffee, I spied my cell on the table where I’d haphazardly thrown it earlier. I searched for Dec’s number, knowing he’d be curled up next to Mac, asleep. His dreams had abated somewhat, although not altogether, but at least he had the comfort of a warm, female body to distract him. I had nothing. Not anymore. Another thing war had stolen from me.
My finger hovered over his number. Did I let my friend know just how much his rescue had tipped me into the dark zone, or did I continue to act like I had my shit together?
The silence had me overthinking things. I honed my hearing in to any sound which might allow me to focus on something other than my warped deliberations, but the house remained silent.
Standing and placing my cup in the sink, I nabbed my keys from the kitchen counter and stalked to the front door, stopping to throw on my Nike running shoes.
It didn’t matter that most people were tucked away in bed, fast asleep. It certainly didn’t matter about the pitch black of night. It provided me with a certain amount of comfort. Quiet. Solitude. I needed to run. Movement helped to silence my mind. To soothe the endless noise. Visions only reserved for enlisted men and women and retired veterans.
Under the canopy of a starlit canvas, I took off. Feeling the rough surface of the road, I kept close to the curb in case of any traffic, although at such an ungodly hour, it would be minimal. I let the street lamps guide me. Past silent, parked suburban cars and houses, focusing on each step, allowing it to ground me.
My disquiet ebbed back to a more manageable level as my lungs drank in the crisp air.
Unsure of how long I pushed on, not caring to look at my watc
h, I startled when a white Jeep Cherokee pulled up alongside me and the driver’s window slid down. I pivoted my head to face Mac’s annoying friend Char, who smiled at me as if she were merely pulling up for a middle of the night chat. She was in her scrubs, so it became obvious her shift at the hospital had ended. I was in no mood for idle chitchat. Especially with her. For some reason, she made my snarky side rise into being.
“Hey there! You always go running in the middle of the night?” she asked, keeping her vehicle in pace with me, glancing backward and forward to the road and then at me again.
I just wanted a peaceful jog. To rid the excess thoughts plaguing me. To exhaust myself so that I might actually get some sleep. Fate obviously had other ideas. I didn’t respond for a minute as I breathed heavily, attempting to not fire back at her like I wanted to. She didn’t appear fazed by my silence and the white vehicle kept pace.
Finally glancing at my watch, I answered while clenching my jaw to restrain myself from telling her to get lost. “It’s three thirty a.m. It’s far from the middle. It’s practically morning.” I don’t know what sparked the need to goad her, but for some reason, the fiery red hair and green eyes made me uncomfortable, and I had never figured out why.
I certainly didn’t feel like company. My therapeutic jog was being interrupted. Wishing she’d hit the gas and move along, I faced forward again and upped my pace slightly, feeling the lactic acid burn in my calf muscles.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” Silly question.
Keeping my eyes on the approaching intersection, I huffed out, “Do I look like I’m in need of assistance to you?”
Would she take the hint? Doubtful.
With her SUV lolling beside me, I stopped. She braked, seeing me take pause, so I took two long strides to her open window and with a tone I hoped would scare her off, I barked out, “Do you need something? Cause if you just want a friendly chat, I suggest you catch up with Mac when she wakes up. I’m sure she has all the time you need.”
Her face betrayed her, showing a flash of annoyance. Good.
“Man, you truly don’t like people, do you? I’ve just finished work and saw you running at an ungodly hour, and wondered if you needed to be taken somewhere. I can see I shouldn’t have bothered.”
A few curls of her red hair hung loose around her face. If I wasn’t such an ass, I would have thought her attractive with her sensational green eyes.
Not knowing what to say, I changed the subject.
“I thought you’d switched to days, anyway?”
Still miffed, she gripped the wheel, no doubt wishing it were my head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I pulled an extra shift for another nurse. And in response to your earlier, snarky comment, I wasn’t after some deep, meaningful chat. I’ll be sure to go to Mac for that. While I’m at it, I’ll tell her what a jerk you are.”
With that, she pressed on the gas and left me with exhaust fumes and an unusual grin on my face. Damn. The woman had balls. I’d give her that.
Chapter Two
Char
What an arrogant prick! So much for trying to be nice. The guy had given me grief ever since turning up at the hospital with Harley when Mac had been kidnapped. He hated me then and he hated me now. I don’t know what I’d done to flick his asshole switch, but it only appeared to be aimed at me. Screw him. Even if he was a hotter than hell dick, it would be in my best interests if I steered clear of him. Problem with that was, I had a misguided attraction to the wrong types of men. I saw them as a challenge. After all the no-hopers I’d dated since high school, you’d think I’d steer clear of that type, but I wanted what I wanted. Viper proved no different.
Stepping on the foot pedal after pulling a double shift, I just needed to get home and sleep. After changing to day shift with Mac, I hadn’t pulled a double in a while, and if I could prevent it, I wouldn’t be doing it again. My feet had gone numb and my leg muscles had tightened to the point of pain.
I loved my job, but it didn’t agree with me when I’d worked almost twenty-four hours straight.
After turning into my apartment complex and parking in my single car garage, I literally stumbled through the small kitchen and living areas, dumping my bag on the couch on my way down the hallway.
Thoughts flicked back to the douchebag I’d encountered not even ten minutes earlier. What was his problem with me? My looks were above average. I wasn’t short at five foot eight. My patients and colleagues all liked me. Sure, I spoke it as I saw it, but shit, even Mac’s boyfriend Dec liked me.
Pushing open my bedroom door, the darkened room soothed me. I did a quick strip and climbed into bed naked, too exhausted to find a tank and sleep shorts.
My last coherent thought before succumbing to oblivion was, You still want to play the angry soldier card with me, Viper? Game on!
***
Stirring reluctantly in my dark surroundings, it took a minute to get my bearings. My block out curtains made it hard to determine what time of the day it was. I’d been immersed in an idiotic dream about a tall, blond soldier with a buzz cut. In the world of make believe he’d been more humane and friendly toward me. In fact, way too friendly. My groin tingled as snippets of hot kisses and urgent touches broke through my haze. Pfft. As if. That was as likely to happen as a trip to Mars in my lifetime.
I needed to get those images out of my head right now.
A familiar ringtone sounded from the living area. My horse whinny that everyone hated, especially when I had it at full volume like I did now.
Rising soberly, not caring I had no clothes on, I hurried down the hallway to retrieve it before it went to the message bank. Praying it wasn’t the hospital, relief had me sag into a chair after spying the caller.
“Hey, Mac. I thought you were working today.”
“Hello to you too! I’m at work. I’m on a break.”
Eying the time as three p.m. in the afternoon, I asked, “What’s up? How’s Mrs. Sullivan in room 190?”
“She’s had another turn. Tests came back as an aneurysm in the brain. We’ve admitted her for now under observation. Because of her age, surgical clipping may be too risky.”
“What size are we looking at?”
“It’s small and less than a quarter inch, so Doctor Atkins thinks observation is best at this time.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be back in the morning. How’s that hunk of a man of yours? Have his meds for PTSD fully kicked in yet?”
“He’s doing much better. Still having a few nightmares, but nothing like he was. His moods have stabilized.”
“Pfft. Can’t say the same for his jerk-wad of a friend.” I said it more to myself than to Mac, but it was out and I knew she wouldn’t let it go.
“Who? Viper? You’ve seen him?” We’d spoken previously about how striking I thought the guy was, but each time he opened his mouth, my opinion of him went down that little bit more. Since Mac’s rescue, I’d only run into him a couple of times and we’d barely said two words to each other, last night excluded.
“You could say that.” My pause on how to continue and whether I should paint the guy in a better light gave Mac the opening to speak.
“Well? Are you going to tell me? I have about two minutes of my break left.”
Deciding not to sugar-coat it, I held nothing back. “Your boyfriend’s military buddy is a shit-eating, good for nothing piece of dog crap with no personality whatsoever.”
Mac chuckled through the line.
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?”
“Yeah. I actually do.” She laughed harder.
Hearing a name paged through the line, Mac suddenly added, “That’s me. I gotta run. I’ll call by after work.” She ended the call. She freaking ended the call before I could give her a snarky comment about her finding my opinion of Viper funny.
Throwing my head back into the chair, I balked. “Everyone seems to think the sun shines out of Mr. Military’s butt. Pfft. They need their heads read.”
***
Two and a half hours later I listened to Mac’s beefy Mustang pull into the visitors’ parking bay two apartments down. There was no other car in our complex that sounded quite like hers. For a pretty blonde nurse, the car was the exact opposite of her. Masculine. Fast. Powerful. Yet I couldn’t imagine her driving anything else. The girl had spunk, like her car, and they kind of fit together nicely.
I personally preferred my SUV with all its space. Plus, God forbid I ever got into an accident, I liked the idea of having something substantial around me. Being on my own, if I wanted to pack up and head away for a couple of days, I could do so comfortably.
A soft knock sounded on my front door. I jumped off the sofa where I’d been a vegetable for the latter part of the afternoon and threw open the door.
Mac beamed as she pushed past me with a large coffee in each hand.
“Got your favorite. Double shot, skinny cappuccino.”
I could have kissed her. She knew when I needed caffeine, and with my epic shift at work and then running into hot shit for brains, my energy was at an all-time low.
Shutting the door and taking the coffee she held out, I swigged it before answering. Feeling the burn but not caring, I smiled at my savior. “You’re truly a lifesaver. I need two or three of these babies after the last twenty-four hours.”
“Come. Sit. Tell me all about it.” Her eyes gleamed as she beat me to the sofa.
“Well, you know about Mrs. Sullivan…”
“You know that’s not what I meant. Viper! Tell me why Viper has you so riled up?”
The sly smile on her face only grew wider. For some reason, Mac was enjoying the fact that a guy had me knotted up.
“You mean you haven’t noticed how he treats me like garbage?” She’d have to be blind not to have seen or heard his responses to me.
True Beginnings (The Lost and Found Series Book 3) Page 1