Soldiering On (Soldiering On #0.5)

by Aislinn Kearns

  Duncan stared her down, then gave a sharp nod. “Just so we’re clear, then.”

  He wandered around the space a little more, not saying a word. His limp was more pronounced today. She wondered if he’d been pushing it too hard. Still, it did nothing to detract from the powerful legs, encased in jeans that hugged him a little more than he was probably comfortable with. Mandy, too, wasn’t quite happy with it, but for a different reason. She really didn’t want to find this man attractive.

  “Have you thought of a name yet?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “No. Nothing seems right.” He turned to her. “Any ideas?”

  It might have been the first time he directly asked her opinion on something. Unfortunately, she couldn’t impress him with an amazing idea, because she’d been just as stumped as him. She shook her head in reply.

  He turned away, apparently examining a speck of dust on an empty wall.

  “And the recruiting? How’s that coming along?” She didn’t normally have to work this hard for a conversation.

  Tension crept into his shoulders, but he didn’t turn to look at her. “Fine,” he muttered.

  Okay then. “So, what do you think of the space?” Even she could hear the tinge of desperation in her voice.

  He spun to face her finally, wincing as he did so. His hand automatically started towards his knee, no doubt to clutch at it, but he stopped himself. The pain she’d seen on his face disappeared, replaced by an emotionless wall.

  “It’ll do,” he muttered shortly, then strode towards the exit. Mandy followed along behind at a happy clip.

  She’d take it as a victory.

  Chapter 11

  Frustrated by the lack of support he was experiencing from the people that mattered most—those he wanted to help—Duncan decided to pay a visit to Zack. He wanted to do this in person.

  The morning sun shone relentlessly on the drive over, forcibly improving Duncan’s mood. Only by a little.

  Zack lived in a quiet suburban street, lined with one-story, three-bedroom homes. Each had just enough difference to avoid the label of ‘cookie cutter’, but they still looked depressingly domestic to Duncan. It was the kind of neighbourhood he associated with that picture-perfect advertisement life: white families with 2.5 kids.

  He shuddered.

  Zack’s house had a perfectly manicured lawn like all the others on his block, but with an overgrown flowerbed along one side. Duncan smiled, not surprised that Zack wasn’t much of a gardener. The exterior of the house was pristine, with fresh paint and even a neatly constructed porch swing near the front door. Duncan suspected Zack had built it himself.

  He examined it as he waited for Zack to answer his knock. Nice craftsmanship. Maybe he’d get Zack to make some pieces for the office.

  Footsteps sounded behind the door, then hesitated. Duncan realised that Zack must be looking through the peephole at him, so he made himself more visible in the line of sight and tried not to frown.

  The lock clicked, and the door swung back, revealing Zack in jeans and a tank top, sweating as if he’d been interrupted during physical labour. He was dark haired, with grey eyes that almost no one noticed due to the visible scarring covering one side of Zack’s face. They were burns from an incident in Afghanistan, when the Humvee he’d been in had driven over an IED buried in the sand. The explosion had ignited the fuel tank, killing a number of his teammates, and making Zack lucky to have survived.

  By the time the incident had occurred, Paul—who had been on the same team—had already been injured and begun his recovery.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Zack said with a quick smile. It tugged up more on the left side of his face than his right.

  He stepped back to allow Duncan entry. As Duncan moved inside, he was immediately struck by the calm, solid presence the house emanated. Wooden floorboards and white walls combined to create an open, airy space.

  He didn’t know why he’d half-expected Zack’s place to be a mess. The man was a former Marine and a homebody—of course he’d want his space to be tidy.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks,” Zack said. The quiet pride in his eyes told Duncan that Zack had been instrumental in shaping the place. He wondered if he’d built from scratch or renovated, and resolved to ask later.

  “I’m about to make some coffee,” Zack continued. “Not one of your lattes, but if you’re willing to slum it…” He trailed off temptingly.

  “You know very well I’ve had worse,” Duncan replied with a grin.

  They made their way to the kitchen, and Duncan again admired the clean lines surrounding him while Zack set about making coffee.

  As soon as the cup was set in front of him, Duncan launched into his spiel.

  “I’m starting up a business and I want to hire you,” he said. He twisted the mug in his hand, and his leg jumped beneath the table. Restless energy coursed through him.

  Zack was silent for a moment. “Blake already told me a bit about this. I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me.”

  “I was saving you for later, since I figured you’d say yes.” Duncan forced himself to stop moving, pushing the mug further across the table, away from his immediate reach.

  “Well, you’d be right. Who else is on board? Besides Blake, obviously.”

  Duncan grunted. “Maybe Sam.” He scuffed his booted foot against the polished wooden floor beneath the table.

  He could hear Zack’s confusion. “Anyone else?”

  Duncan sighed, his anger and annoyance finally abating. “Paul isn’t into it, despite my attempts to convince him. I haven’t called Destiny yet.”

  “Paul’s just stubborn,” he muttered dismissively. “Destiny might be a hard sell, but I thought Sam would be jumping at the chance.” Zack took a sip of his coffee and watch Duncan over the rim with curious eyes.

  “She was, until I pissed her off.” Duncan rolled his eyes at himself. He seemed to be pissing people off left and right these days.

  “Oh. Yeah. That’d do it.” Zack didn’t seem at all surprised.

  “I have a few others in mind, but obviously you guys are my first choices.”

  “Sure. So, when do we start?”

  Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. After his last two attempts, he hadn’t expected Zack to be so easy to convince.

  “I’ll let you know, but it will probably be in a few more weeks.”

  “I’ll be there,” he replied.

  With that weight off Duncan’s chest, the two talked over other things until Duncan left an hour later.

  Buoyed by the conversation, Duncan thumbed down his contacts list until he found Destiny’s number.

  “’Sup, Sarge?” Destiny greeted him as she answered the phone. Formally known as Corporal Destiny Jones, she had served under him in the enlisted ranks of the Army. As soon as they’d got out, she’d started calling him ‘Sarge’ as a joke and he hadn’t yet managed to break her of the habit. If they’d still been in, he could have broken her metaphorical balls for that.

  He’d always had a soft spot for Destiny, though. Even if they’d both still been in, he might have let it slide. He was glad that she’d never tested him.

  “Soldier,” he replied. He wasn’t sure where pop culture had got the idea that those in the Army referred to each other like that, but it was as annoying as fuck. Still, he was willing to play along with Destiny and mock the civilians that used those terms just the same.

  “How have you been?” she asked.

  Duncan considered the question. “Do you have time to meet up for coffee?” he asked instead. Even after his conversation with Zack, he still had a need to see a friendly face.

  “That bad, huh?” she asked, but she agreed to meet.

  An hour later, Duncan found himself in a small, trendy café a block back from a major road. Destiny had told him she wanted to try their fair-trade, organic coffee, and had had to send him a location pin so that he could find it.


  It was clean and relatively quiet, with only a few artsy-types dotted around single-person tables. Floaty dresses and paint-stained clothes seemed to be the norm. Most of the clientele and staff alike looked comfortably under thirty.

  He shifted in his chair in the corner. This sort of place was not where career army, former Sergeant Majors generally found themselves. He was too old and boring, never having had a creative bone in his body.

  Still, they made a damn good latte.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long for Destiny to show up. A few of the patrons looked up as she walked into the café, a spring in her step. Their eyes caught on her, unable to look away. Duncan had seen this reaction many times before. Destiny was a beautiful woman, with smooth black skin and her natural hair bouncing free. Her smile had a tendency to light up a room.

  Now that she was no longer forced to wear her ACU—Army Combat Uniform—day in and day out, he saw that she’d begun to dress in feminine sundresses. It took him a moment to process the change.

  By the time she’d sat across from him, Duncan had a ready smile for her.

  “Jones. You’re looking great.”

  “You’re looking a little uncomfortable,” she admonished.

  Duncan shrugged. “I’m a soldier. This place is quite…artsy. I haven’t managed to rid myself of all my military stiffness yet.”

  Destiny grinned. “You’re such an old man.”

  “I’m not even forty yet,” he grumbled in reply. Still, he was only a few years away from the big four-oh. Destiny, on the other hand, was yet to reach thirty. Some days she made him feel younger than his years. Today, he felt twice his age.

  “We can go somewhere else.” It was a challenge.

  “No, it’s fine. Really.”

  Her grin came back. “Good. I’ve heard they make good coffee here.”

  Duncan sipped his latte, nodding in agreement. He wouldn’t have even considered leaving until he finished the cup.

  “How are you?” Duncan asked in the silence between them. She seemed happy. After what she had been through, that was a minor miracle in itself. But he knew looks could be deceiving.

  Her eyes darkened, and the ever-present light dimmed from her face. “I’m getting there,” she replied sadly. “How are you?” she asked in return.

  Duncan weighed various replies. “In the scheme of things, I’m doing pretty well.”

  A waitress came over, pretty and dark-haired, pencil poised to take their order. Destiny blinked at her sudden appearance, then turned her most potent smile on the woman. The waitress did a double-take, clearly blindsided. Destiny tended to inspire that reaction.

  Duncan took pity on the woman and ordered two coffees. Destiny was no help, sneaking glances at the waitress instead of ordering her usual. The woman hurriedly noted down their order, then stepped back into the crowd and disappeared.

  As Destiny watched her leave, Duncan gave her a reproving look. She caught sight of his face and snapped to attention with a not-at-all apologetic smile. “So, why are we here? Not that it wasn’t time for us to catch up. But it sounded like you needed a friend.”

  Duncan sighed. He launched into an explanation of everything that had happened since he’d been discharged from rehab. Her face was unreadable. It was an uncanny ability that she’d developed in the Army, so different to her usual expressiveness that he used to find it quite alarming. Not that she hadn’t had a need for a good poker face. Being gay and in the military—particularly as a woman and an African-American—in the days before ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ had been repealed had been a special kind of challenge.

  It had made him especially protective of her, as if she were his little sister. He’d tried not to show her any favouritism, but the fact of the matter was that they’d developed a special bond, and it hadn’t lessened one bit since they’d been out.

  As he finished his story, Destiny sighed.

  “As usual, you’re being a stubborn asshole about things. No surprises there.”

  Duncan opened his mouth to protest, but slammed it shut again. If he hadn’t wanted an honest assessment, he shouldn’t have come to Destiny.

  “What am I being an asshole about in particular?”

  She held up her hand and began ticking the items off on her fingers. “Your business partner, for starters. Sounds like she’s been a godsend and you can’t manage a civil word to her. Sam, for defending both Mandy and Paul. Paul, because you are expecting far more than he is ready for.” She gave him a pointed look. “Do you want me to go on?”

  Duncan shook his head. “So, what do I do?”

  “First up, apologise to Sam. That’s the easy part.”

  Duncan nodded in acceptance. “And then?”

  “Then, tell Paul you need help with specific tasks. Something only he’d be good at. If he thinks he’s just doing a favour for you, it won’t feel like so much pressure. Then, he’ll see how invaluable he can be to you, and hopefully accept your offer.”

  Duncan felt the tension he hadn’t even known was in his chest begin to loosen at Destiny’s advice. He should have come to her in the beginning. “I can do that.”

  “As for Mandy…is she pretty?”

  “Why do people keep asking me that?” he grumbled. “Weren’t you after that waitress a few minutes ago?”

  Destiny waved that away. “Not for me. I don’t know why, but you are always so much more sensitive around pretty ladies. You become that lion from the parable, with the thorn in its paw. Always lashing out at those trying to help.”

  “Why does no one believe me when I say-”

  “You aren’t being objective about this. You don’t have to like the woman to work with her, though nothing you’ve said so far makes me think she’s a bad person. But if you are going to go into business with her, you’ll have to be able to work together. This whole idea will fall apart before it’s begun if all you do is squabble with the woman meant to be by your side through all of it.”

  Duncan sighed. “I’m just not sure she’s the right person for this.”

  “Then fine. Tell her you don’t need her help. Tear up the contract. Just don’t keep treating her this way. You either want her or you don’t.”

  When she put it like that, the full force of Duncan’s bad behaviour hit him. She was right. He didn’t have to like her. He didn’t think that would happen any time soon, regardless. But he had to commit or jump ship. Pretending he could half-ass this was just not going to work.

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Destiny grinned again. “You’re welcome.”

  Duncan leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “So, what do you say? Want to join?”

  Her eyes shuttered. Duncan frowned in surprise.

  “Actually, I’ve decided I’m joining the Portsboro Police Force.”

  Coffee spilled over the rim of his cup as he set it down with more force than he’d intended. “You’re what?”

  “I know it might seem like a strange choice after what happened,” she began.

  “No kidding!”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Look, I can’t deny that the police force is broken. Some days they do more harm than good. But I think the best place for me to fix that is from the inside. So that what happened to Michael doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

  Sadness settled over him. He’d only met Michael once, but he’d been so much like his sister. He’d had an infectious vitality, and a constant desire to help other people. It was that that had gotten him shot by police for doing nothing more than trying to help the victim of a convenience store robbery.

  He’d been in the store when two young men had held up a corner store. Later, witnesses would say that they’d seemed high, full of manic energy. The two men had fled before the police had arrived, with the store owner’s profits tucked neatly into their pockets. Michael had had the misfortune to try to comfort the man behind the counter in the minutes before the cops showed up, responding to a call. The two officers had burst in, ta
ken one look at the young black man standing close to the store owner, and shot him without a second thought.

  The cops had never been charged. As far as he knew, they were still serving on the force today.

  Duncan had attended Michael’s funeral. He didn’t think he’d seen so many heartbroken people at once, even at his own father’s funeral. Michael had been just that well-loved by his friends and community.

  It had even made the news. Though, enough of the outlets had attempted to paint the white cops as heroes. As expected, that hadn’t gone over well in the black communities.

  “That’s a really brave thing,” Duncan told her softly. “Michael would be so proud of you.”

  Tears shimmered in Destiny’s eyes. “Do you think?”

  Though Duncan hadn’t known her brother well, Destiny was clearly seeking approval.

  “He was the kind of guy to make the right choice, even if—especially if—it was the hard one. What you’re doing won’t be easy. But I have no doubt that you’ll make a difference.”

  Destiny nodded fiercely. “Thanks, Duncan. And same to you. You’re doing the right thing. You are taking a group of people that lost parts of their identities, and helping them soldier on.” She paused. “And I’m not sorry about that pun.”

  Touched, Duncan took her hand. “Thank you.” They smiled at each other, muted and heavy. After a moment, something occurred to Duncan. “Wait, that’s a good name.”

  “What is?”

  “For the company. We can call it Soldiering On.”

  Destiny laughed in reply, but agreed that it could work.

  They parted ways soon after that, both feeling emotionally drained. Every time they talked about Michael, which wasn’t often for obvious reasons, it filled him with an overwhelming sadness. Not just for the bright, young black man that lost his life. But for all the other young African-American men lost in the same way. It was a far too common occurrence. Hell, one day it might even be him in that casket, with news articles trying to twist his past to make it seem like he deserved it.

  Duncan had to admire Destiny for taking a stand. She was far braver than he could ever be.