The Heart's Shrapnel

by S. J. Lynn

  “No, I got it. Just tell me where to put it.”

  “Oh, um, on the counter is fine. I’ll make room in the fridge.” He nods and heads into the kitchen a few steps away. It’s a small place, but I don’t need much.

  While everyone greets each other, I make room for the beer in the refrigerator. It’s been a long time since I’ve had people over. I’d almost forgotten what it feels like to just enjoy people’s company.

  “When’s dinner ready?” Mandy says with a slight whine. “I’m wasting away.”

  “You could use some more meat on your bones.” Ryan feigns hurt as Mandy punches him in the arm. “Ow! What? It’s true. I like my women with thick curves.”

  “Dios Mio, Ryan. Stop while you’re ahead,” Dylan chimes in.

  Everyone at the table laughs, including me as I carry the lasagna in and place it in the center of the table.

  Dylan takes a big whiff and lets out a groan. “If this tastes half as good as it smells, I’ll be expecting this treatment every night.”

  Lily smiles but doesn’t say anything. She’s shy, but she has it bad for him.

  Not wanting her to leave her out of the conversation, I add, “I’m sure Lily would love to cook you dinner.”

  He turns to her, smiling. “I’d love to sample it sometime,” he says lowering his voice and wiggling his brows. Once again the table erupts with laughter, except Phillip, who looks at an imaginary spot on my wall. What has him so distracted?

  I announce that it’s time to eat.

  “Thank goodness!” Mandy shouts while holding onto her stomach.

  “Since you are starving and shriveling away to nothing, I’ll feed you first, my dear,” I tease with an exaggerated pout. Like before, everyone chuckles except Phillip, who’s now turned his attention to me. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, and I’m surprised no one comments on it. It feels oddly intimate; like he’s taking the time to commit my face to memory. I almost drop Mandy’s plate.

  “Dang, girl. I’m hungry, but I’d prefer to eat it off a plate.”

  Forcing a smile, I hand it to her and lift the wrapper off the salad for her. I serve the other three and save Phillip for last. His piece is much bigger, and he notices, making a low whistling sound.

  “I can’t seem to cut even.”

  He smirks and it’s all I can do not to kiss his mouth. Those lips have been on my mind since this morning when he let me taste him. I didn’t want him to stop. He tasted so—

  “Delicious,” he remarks.

  Startled, I blink and stare in embarrassment. “What?”

  “I said it looks delicious,” he repeats.

  I casually brush back stray hairs on the side of my head and quickly turn away from his penetrating gaze. I feel completely off kilter.

  “What would everyone like to drink?” I ask.

  “Beer,” they all say in unison.

  After I pass out the Budweiser, Phillip whispers, “I’ll go for a Labatt’s.”

  God, why is he doing this to me? Even asking for beer has me on the verge of a slight meltdown. Maybe he knows what he’s doing.

  “Okay,” I stutter. I exchange the Budweiser for two Labatt’s and sit down in the only chair left—right next to Phillip, of course.

  Throughout dinner, we all laugh as we enjoy our meal. The men are on their seconds as they tell one story after the other about each other’s humiliating moments. It’s amazing what one can find out about people after a few beers and a good meal. Naturally Phillip doesn’t get too into it, but he does share a story or two. I find that I love listening to the soft rumble of his voice.

  Ryan keeps the stories flowing. “Oh man, one time I walked in on Mrs. White and the janitor . . .”

  “The meal was great,” Phillip whispers, leaning close to my ear.

  I smile. “Thanks, I enjoy cooking.”

  He smiles. “Well, I’m glad. Everyone should enjoy something that makes them happy.”

  “Yes, they should.”

  He makes no attempt to look away from me as his eyes play with mine. Everyone else fades into the background. He’s so normal tonight, and it’s a pleasure to see. When he first came, he looked down and out, but now he’s enjoying himself and letting go of the stress of the day. It’s so easy to picture myself with him, but his career?

  “Excuse me.” I get up from the table and head to the bathroom. I need a moment to collect myself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wes

  I didn’t want to come tonight, but I had to see her. The things I do to people on any given day would make any sane man’s skin crawl. She wouldn’t like what I’d been doing before I came here. It got ugly. I found another lead and beat him until my fingers bled. Didn’t get anything out of him even after all the torture. Another Iraqi sent to spy on me. Someone knows I’m not who I say I am. It has to be the reason for all the spies. Could it be the general? I still can’t wrap my head around the why. Could be anyone really. I’m not sure at this point.

  So, I needed her. She is the only one who can wash some of the memory away. The sight of her when she opened the door stole my breath. Her innocence is disarming. When the general said we would be shipping out, it included those with medical training. And, I just knew they would ask her. I tried to tell myself not to get involved, but I couldn’t. The thought of her over there does not sit well with me.

  Then when she agreed to stay, however reluctantly, it made me breathe easier the rest of the day.

  After leaving the hospital, I went to Leonard to tell him about the deployment. That’s when he shared what he’d found. Those guns being shipped from here to Afghanistan were army property. Part of them at least. Someone’s been trading them behind the scenes. The files weren’t specifically from the general’s personal computer, but they are in the army’s database. It was hard to find but found nonetheless. Leonard is working on hacking Mayfield’s computer tonight. I can’t believe this is going here. First the drugs, then my brother, and now this.

  Why does a man like me do what I do? Because I like finding out the truth. It’s the game of it all that gives me a rush. The truth sets apart a man from a boy, a fighter from a coward. This job is the only thing that gives me purpose. I have a feeling that soon will change.

  Jane’s been in that bathroom for a total of sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds. My legs bounce with impatience as I wait for her to return.

  Screw it.

  “I’m going to see if everything is okay,” I say as they continue to chat among themselves. I get up and head down the short hallway to the bathroom.

  I knock on the door. “Jane? Everything all right?”

  She doesn’t answer. I have to fight the urge to kick down the damn door. After a few more minutes, she slowly opens it. Her eyes are downcast, but I can tell she’s been crying. I don’t like seeing her like this. She’s too beautiful to be marked with such sadness.

  “Sorry.” She smiles through her tears, finally acknowledging me.

  I don’t wait for an invite as I walk into the bathroom. She steps backward with every step I take until I’m in far enough to shut the door.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” I cup her face, bringing her gaze to mine, and brush away each tear with my thumbs. She hiccups and damn if that isn’t the cutest thing she’s ever done.

  “Nothing. I guess I just got overwhelmed. It’s been a while since I’ve had people over like this.” She shrugs. “It just reminded me of who I was before.”

  Her statement sends my mind into overdrive, thinking about what she means. Is she different than who she used to be? I think she’s great right now. And, if not, what the hell happened? Then, I remember her mentioning an ex in the army and it clicks.

  “Did he hurt you?” My jaw ticks as I struggle to rein in my temper. I swear if she says yes, I will find the scumbag and make him pay with every torture known to man.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says quietly.

  Question answered.

/>   My guys know me and are used to my temperament, but she isn’t and neither are her friends. Not wanting to scare her, I steady my heart rate and breathe a few long cleansing breaths.

  “Would you like us to go home?” I brush back a loose strand of hair that escaped her ponytail and tuck it behind her ear. I want to touch her in any way I can and in any way she’ll allow.

  She seems uncomfortable. Is it me or just men in general?

  Her eyes fly open. “No! No, don’t go. I love this with everyone. It feels so normal.”

  I gaze into her eyes, and once I’m satisfied that she’s telling the truth, I relax a fraction. “You had me worried. You were in here a while.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me.” As if she’s just noticing for the first time, she slowly moves her hands up and gently removes mine. “And this probably isn’t a good idea.”

  I don’t want to let her go, but I respect her wishes. “Yeah, you’re right.” I rub my neck to get the kinks out.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps bringing her hands to her mouth.

  Her sudden outburst has me looking behind me. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Confused, I turn back to her. She’s looking at my shirt stained with blood.

  Damn. I should have patched this wound before I left.

  “What happened? You’re hurt.” She lifts up my shirt to reveal a fresh knife wound.

  “It’s nothing, Jane. Just a flesh wound. Comes with the territory.”

  “Just a flesh wound? Come here.” She walks over to her medicine cabinet and pulls out a bunch of shit.

  Honey, if you only knew what the other guy looks like.

  “Sit on the ledge of the tub.”

  I sigh but humor her. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “Take off your shirt,” she orders while wetting a cloth.

  For a moment her command stuns me and, admittedly, stirs my most treasured body part, but I find the ability to do as she asks. I bring my shirt over my head and dispose of it on the floor.

  She turns around to face me. “This . . .” her voice trails off and her eyes widen as they skate the full length of my torso. My body responds in kind. “This will sting a bit,” she says breathily and it turns me on big time.

  “I can take it,” I assure her.

  She blinks a few times before clearing her throat. “One moment.”

  Not understanding, I wait as she leaves the bathroom and moments later carries in a stool. She places it directly between my legs and she takes a seat, ready to play doctor. Her hands tremble slightly as she says she’s about to apply the antiseptic. I say nothing—just nod—training my eyes on her. She bites her lip as if nervous to touch me. But, I’m craving it.

  “Do it,” I tell her.

  Her eyes flit to mine. She nods and presses the cool, wet cloth on my lower abdomen. My muscles contract. It stings, but it’s a tickle compared to how it felt when the tip of the knife went in. She dabs it a few times, examines the wound, and grabs something else. I’m not even paying attention anymore. I just want to gaze at her.

  “This was what you were doing earlier?” she asks with a bite. Ms. Baltimore is upset with me it seems.

  “It’s part of the job.” She shakes her head as if annoyed. “Does it bother you?”

  Now I’ve got her attention.

  She rests her hands on her hips and glares. “Your knife wound is almost deep enough to hit a major organ. That would upset me for anyone.”

  I’ve riled her up. Good. It’s better than her being sad, which I never want to see again.

  “Okay, that was a dumb question.” Gripping the edge of the tub on either side of me, I lean in a little more. “Tell me about him.”

  She takes her hand and gently pushes me back so I’m sitting up straight and fidgets around with a needle and thread.

  She’s going to stitch me up. Great.

  “Keep straight and don’t move. I need to close the wound. It’s pretty deep,” she says ignoring me.

  It won’t work. I snatch the thread out of her hand. “Tell me about him. I’m fine. I don’t need this shit.” I toss it in the sink.

  “Phillip, it doesn’t matter now. You’re being ridiculous.”

  I lean in so close I can smell her body wash. Pleasantly feminine. “I don’t think so,” I rasp out.

  It doesn’t take long before she starts crying. “Please, just forget about it.”

  I expected anger. Anything but this. I don’t think. I grab her, pull her onto my lap, and cradle her in my arms. I’ll think about the implications later.

  She melts into me. God, it’s been forever since I’ve felt this—the feel of a woman’s body against mine. The shaking of her body interrupts my quick trick down memory lane.

  “God, what did he do to you?” I whisper.

  “Don’t make me tell you. I can’t.”

  I shush her to calm her down as I gently rock her. “It’s okay.” I caress her back as she sobs into my bare chest and her tears brand me a bastard, forever scarring me.

  “You don’t have to.” I continue rocking until her crying eases.

  I carefully wipe the tears from her eyes. Her lashes flutter so gently as if they were the wings of a butterfly. When she looks up, I know I’ve gone too far. I didn’t even know this side of me existed—this soft side that cares again. This can’t happen.

  “You ready to go back out there?” The others have to be getting curious out there. We’ve been in here for a while now.

  She jerks up out of my arms and off my lap as if I’ve thrown cold water on her. Blood is now on her shirt.

  “I almost forgot about them.”

  “Yeah, they’re probably wondering what we’re doing in here,” I say a little awkwardly.

  A laugh bubbles out of her mouth.

  Finally. My shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve been here.

  I hastily move to pick up my shirt from the floor but she stops me.

  “No, you still need to be patched up.”

  I scoff. “I’ve had worse wounds than this.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Sit.” She points to where I was before.

  Frankly, my ass is sore, but I do as she says. If it makes her feel better, I’ll do anything.

  “Okay.”

  We hear a light rap on the door followed by Ryan’s voice. “You okay in there, guys?”

  I get up and crack open the door to a concerned looking Ryan. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey,” he says with a note of curiosity while trying to peek around me. “What’s going on? She okay? The girls are worried.”

  I open the door more so he can look at the wound I’m sporting.

  “Shit man. That from training earlier? You have the worst luck.”

  I give him a look, telling him to lower his voice. “Yes,” I lie. “She thinks it needs stitches.”

  “I’d say. Listen, it’s getting pretty late, and the girls want to go home. You want us to drop them off and wait here for you?”

  “No, my truck’s here. I’ll be leaving here in a few.”

  “That’s right. You drove separate. I forgot.” He peeks in and waves to Jane who’s fishing the thread from the sink. “I’ll let the girls know what’s going on. See you later man.”

  “See you.” I shut the door and walk back to the tub where Jane is now patiently waiting with her little tools. “The girls were getting tired, so the guys are taking them home.”

  “Okay,” she says slightly uncomfortable. I suspect it’s because we’re alone now . . . with me shirtless in her tiny bathroom.

  “Listen, about earlier . . .”

  “No, it’s okay. Really.” She works the needle and thread through my skin, but I feel nothing. “You’re not even flinching,” she states in awe.

  “As I’ve said . . . I’ve been through a whole lot worse. After a while, things like this become trivial.”

  She ties the end of the thread and cuts it. “Why?”

  I’m confused at her ques
tion. “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes focus on my newly patched wound. “Why would you sign up for this?”

  She doesn’t get it. She still thinks I’m an enlisted soldier in the US Army. She’s only partially right.

  My job is different. It’s not that I’m putting myself through anything. Bad situations happen all the time. Bad people exist everywhere, and that’s where I come in. They need to be stopped.

  I get up a second time and put on my shirt. I don’t want to fill her head with the shit I’ve seen and done. Most of it she can’t know. Not even if I wanted her to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane

  He refuses to answer my question. I shouldn’t be shocked. Kevin was the same way. I hate to think it’s because Phillip might have more going on than he’ll admit. Kevin got into some pretty heavy stuff that turned him into a monster. I can’t go through that again. And, Phillip always evades my questions. He’s hiding something.

  Is he more than just army?

  Phillip rushes to put his shirt back on. I was turned away earlier, but this time, I’m watching. This time, I know, I’m right.

  How could I have forgotten about all those scars?

  Spread across his back are scars from bullet wounds and slash marks. Torture wounds. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. The sight fills me with dread and pity for the man before me.

  “What happened to you? That can’t all be from being a soldier. I don’t buy it.”

  The muscles in his back flex. He bows his head while bringing a clenched fist to rest against the door with his shirt just over his wrists. He turns around to face me and his eyes reveal what he doesn’t want to say.

  “Phillip, my God . . .”

  His jaw ticks and his mouth sets into a grim line. He drops his shirt to the floor. “Jane, stop. Listen, these are from various things, and they happened a long ago.”

  A tear escapes from the corner of my eye. “I can see that. But others are more recent. This can’t just be from training soldiers. Were you captured? Are you doing something on the side? Something you shouldn’t be?”

  He quickly runs a hand down his face

  “Jane. Enough,” he warns.