Wrapped Up In You: A Military Romance (Unwanted Soldiers Book 2)

by Aden Lowe

  What the fuck? "Bullshit. I came home from basic, after I heard you had some kind of health issue and didn't finish. You had disappeared without a trace."

  Her hand crept up to her throat. "You died. A training accident." Fingers trembled as they wrapped around her neck. "I…I went to pieces. They let me go home, but that was even worse. I saw you—everywhere. One day I went to your house. Talked to your grandfather. He laughed at me and said I should go join you in hell. I uh…I took a bunch of pills. A lot. They put me in the hospital."

  Cold rage froze my blood. "He told you I was dead? And you didn't even bother to make sure? Because the old bastard is a real paragon of truth, as you know."

  "How can you say that? You're the one who disappeared and let me think you were dead." She stood. "This was a mistake. For all I know, you're the one killing people around me."

  I let her get three steps away before I stopped her. "No, that's a logical conclusion, but I'm not. I only took this job because I can't stand by and let innocents die because of you."

  That got a rise out of her. "Because of me? Some psycho is fixated on me and that's my fault how?"

  I shrugged. "How the fuck do I know? Maybe you walked away on him too, and disappeared without a trace." The words struck their mark.

  The stark paleness of her face almost made me feel guilty. "No, Cass. And I didn't do that to you, either." The way she said my old name brought memories flooding back.

  Heat pooled in my groin, proving my body hadn't forgotten a fucking thing. "Don't call me that. I can't use that fucking name any more. I'm Flag now." I fought back the wave of nausea at the unwelcome emotions pouring through me. I couldn't fucking afford to go there, especially not now. "I'm not the same bastard kid you used to know."

  Her gaze swept over me, taking in the tattoos covering my arms, then stared into my face for a long moment. "Yes, you've changed. And I don't think it's for the better."

  I shrugged again to show her the words meant nothing. "You can't even fucking imagine. Come on, we're going to talk about your problem privately." I had to get my mind the fuck back on the job. If I let myself get bogged down in memories, or stupid goddamn fantasies about her, the killer had a better chance of getting away.

  Anger flashed from her hazel eyes. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Cass. I'll find someone else for the job." She turned away again.

  I caught her elbow and fell into step at her side, directing her back toward my truck. "There is no one else, and there's no fucking time."

  She jerked her arm, but I didn't let go, so she stopped walking. "I said I'm not going anywhere with you."

  A couple, maybe in their forties, approached on the path. The woman kept mean-mugging me. I gave myself a little mental shake and got ready to deal with whatever shit came.

  "Miss, are you okay?" The man halted his woman well out of reach. "Do you need help?"

  Azia's eyes widened and her lips parted as she gathered herself to reply. "I—"

  I left my annoyance on full fucking display. "She's fucking fine, man. Step off." Bastard should know better.

  The fucker ignored me. "Miss? I can call for help if you need."

  Before he could get another word in, his old lady darted toward Azia, reaching for her. "Come on, honey, we'll keep you safe."

  Azia stumbled as the woman tugged on her other arm. "I'm okay, really." She shook the woman's hand off. "There's nothing to worry about."

  I made no effort to conceal my frown. "Man, you need to teach your woman to mind her own business. Coming up on some people like that is an easy way to get hurt."

  The man reached for his wife's hand. "Come on, Judy. She's not in trouble."

  She jerked away. "Harold! What do you know about if a woman is in trouble, hmm?" She turned back to Azia. "Really, honey, we can help. I took a seminar for church about domestic violence. I know what to do."

  The laugh came out as a cough. "Lady, what are you smoking?" I consciously loosened my muscles, letting go of the anger the interruption brought me. "Really, don't go running up on someone like that. You seem to have good intentions, so I'd hate for you to get hurt."

  The woman stared at me like I suddenly grew a second head, while her husband looked on with something awfully close to a smile.

  Azia plastered a smile on her face. "I appreciate the offer of help, but there's really nothing to be concerned about."

  "Are you sure?" The lady stared at Azia, looking for some sign of deception.

  "Of course. Thank you." She caught my arm this time and moved to lead me past the couple.

  Crisis averted, and domestic violence experts appeased, I directed her toward my truck. I hesitated to bring her into my vehicle, which served as a sort of sanctuary, but I saw no fucking alternative for us to speak without the risk of someone listening in. I needed information to do the job, and I needed to do the job so I could finally get shit settled with her.

  "Where are we going?" Surprisingly, she didn't pull away or object.

  A sarcastic reply waited on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. "Nowhere. But I need details to figure out who your friend is, and I have to make sure we aren't overheard."

  Rather than argue like I expected, she just nodded and waited while I unlocked the truck and held the door for her. By the time I climbed behind the wheel, she stared around the cab in open fascination. Old habits surged up, and I wanted to tell her every fucking thing that made my truck special. I clamped my teeth together to make sure the words stayed put, unspoken.

  "Okay, start talking. What first made you think something was off?" Other questions waited, but I refused to fucking speak them. They would have to keep the fuck right on waiting.

  She turned away from me, looking out the window. "I really didn't think much about it until the third person died. When the fourth death happened, I started to take it seriously."

  "Who was the first, and what happened?"

  "One of my professors at college. I'd become friends with him, and after I completed his course, he asked me out. It was nothing romantic. I wasn't ready for that, and he knew it, and was okay with it. I woke up one Saturday morning to a huge bouquet of red roses waiting at reception in my dorm. A week later, Josiah went hiking along a section of the Appalachian Trail, and didn't come back. It took them over a month to find him, and by then, any evidence of what happened was gone. His death was ruled accidental."

  The roses caught my attention. "What did the roses have to do with anything?"

  She raised her hands and let them fall in exasperation. "I wish I knew. But every time a bunch of red roses comes, about a week later, someone close to me dies."

  I nodded. "Okay. That's something I can work with. What do the cards say? And which florist do they come from?"

  "That's just it, Cass. There's never a card, or anything else to identify where they came from."

  I let her get by with using my old name, and thought about what she said for a second. "I assume they came in a vase?"

  "Yes, the kind you can get at any department store in the country. Cheap glass."

  "Any fingerprints?" There had to be a fucking clue somewhere.

  She shook her head. "Not on the one the police looked at. The fifth time the roses came, I knew for sure someone was going to die, and I went to the police. They assured me I only had a harmless secret admirer, and the deaths were coincidental."

  "That's when you went to the private investigator?"

  "I needed to know for sure, but he couldn't find anything either. And now, since then, two more deaths." She paused to clear her throat. "My neighbor went missing, and was found dead yesterday. But this time, it was different. The roses came yesterday, too, without a week of torture time before someone disappeared. And they're coming closer together. The first five were spread over four years, but the fifth was only eight months ago, and there have been two since then." She was trying to distance herself from the victims, referring to them by their order on the time line.

  I
continued to question her, dragging the details out of her one by one. The sun started to dip below the line of trees at the western edge of the park before I finally had it all. By then, I concluded Azia was right. People connected to her were dying, and things seemed to be escalating.

  "Okay, how close were you to your neighbor?" Time to determine who else might be at risk.

  "That's just it. I wasn't. Chris was a little, well, strange. I don't think he actually had any friends. Close to him was saying hello in the hall, and chatting over coffee on our separate balconies on Saturday mornings." New tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with an angry gesture. "I don't understand how anyone could hurt him."

  I wished I knew more about behavioral profiling and the kinds of people who became fucking serial killers. There were resources I could reach out to, but I preferred to handle this one without involving any of my connections. The last thing I needed was some fucking spook asshole poking around my past any more than they already had.

  "When we first talked, you seemed to have suspicions who it might be?"

  She nodded. "I'd started to think it might be Richard Riley. I went to college with him. He asked me out pretty regularly, but I always turned him down. The thought of dating anyone made me physically ill." She paused to wipe her fingers under her eyes, as if drying tears, and I waited to see if she would say more. "After graduation, when I found a job here, he suddenly turned up teaching at the same school. And he still asks me out all the time. The whole school finds it amusing, like they think I'm playing hard to get, or something. But he gives me the creeps."

  Chapter Five

  Azia

  An elephant sat on my chest as I drove home, or at least I felt like it. The last two days left me traumatized on so many levels, I failed to comprehend it all. And piled on top of everything else, seeing Cass again was a huge blow. I turned back to the rest of it as a refuge, a way to get my mind off him.

  The initial sadness and grief over Chris' death gave way to anger. He didn't have to die. None of them did, but his connection to me was so faint. How could anyone else even know of it? Fear set in again with that thought. What if Chris' death were a coincidence? The timing didn't fit. He always left me to agonize over it for an endless, miserable week, and he always chose someone I spent time with. This was the first time the death didn't fit his pattern. The figurative elephant on my chest grew by several tons. If not Chris, then who? I named off everyone who might be considered close to me, careful not to miss anyone.

  Out of them all, Carrie was the closest. In the past year, I isolated myself, trying to protect others, and failing. But working with someone every day in a classroom of very perceptive five-year olds meant at least giving the impression of close friendship. A casual observer could easily assume she and I were the best of friends. And truth be told, we were pretty close. In other circumstances, we might have become even more so, but I resisted her attempts to draw me into her family's life.

  Heavy traffic as people went about their Saturday evening plans meant delays as I tried to hurry home and call Cass—Flag. I might never get used to the name change, but he insisted. When he finally stopped questioning me, he demanded my phone and added his number to my contacts so I could reach him if I thought of anything new. If my phone wasn't on the back seat with my bag, I would have called while I drove. Leave it to me to put the stupid thing out of reach when I needed it. Hopefully another fifteen minutes wouldn't do any harm.

  Traffic ahead of me ground to a halt, and showed no signs of moving any time soon. Just my luck. Several minutes later sirens cut through the evening, and blue lights strobed in the distance. An accident. I might as well get comfortable since it could take some time to get things cleared. I hoped no one was hurt, but at least the accident gave me the opportunity to get my phone.

  I put my car in Park, unbuckled, and wriggled around to stretch over the back of my seat. Just as my fingers brushed against my phone, horns started blaring. I banged my head on the top of the car, grabbed the stupid phone, and twisted back into my seat. The lane ahead of me sat miraculously clear, and cars whizzed by in the other lane, rushing to get through while they could.

  With the phone safely in the cup holder, I shifted into Drive and got moving before someone rear-ended me. On my way once more, I awkwardly fastened my seat belt. The last thing I needed today was a ticket, especially for something so simple. My call would have to wait a little longer too, with traffic moving again, since I didn't have a hands-free device.

  Finally, I backed into my space in front of my building. As usual for a Saturday evening, all the guest spots were full, but several cars also sat in the fire lane. Someone must be having a party. Perfectly normal Saturday. Several young couples lived in the building, as well as plenty of single people of both genders. The few brave empty-nesters and retired folks mostly turned a blind eye to the younger residents.

  My hand shook as I grabbed my phone from the cup holder, and scrolled through my contacts. A loud noise startled me and I turned the screen off quickly and searched for the source. Three men, probably in their twenties, and obviously intoxicated walked next to the building, slapping the hoods of cars as they passed. I watched, hoping they hadn't noticed the glow from my phone.

  One of them elbowed another and nodded in my direction. All three started laughing and my heart sank. Could my luck get any worse today? Security lights flooded the rest of the lot with light, but my spot at the edge always stayed darker. The men might just go on their way, or make a few catcalls. I clicked the lock button anyway, just in case.

  They came around the side of my car, and I tried to keep my fear under control. I was safe, inside a locked car. They couldn't actually hurt me. I even almost convinced myself, until one of them tapped on my window.

  "Open up and let us in, baby. We'll show you a real good time." He rubbed suggestively at his crotch.

  My stomach turned and I shook my head.

  One of the others stepped up close. "Looks like the bitch don't wanna party with us, man." The anger in his tone almost shocked me. "Tha's a'ight. You ain't gotta like it, bitch." He pulled at his belt.

  I hurried to look away, while my heart pounded heavily. My instinct to stay inside the car had been right. My phone felt heavy in my fingers. I should call nine-one-one. Even if they left me alone, in that kind of mood, who knew what they would do to any woman unfortunate enough to not have a car to hide in. I unlocked the screen.

  A heavy weight landed on the hood of my car with a thud, startling me. The third man lay across just in front of the windshield, and shook a finger at me. "You don't want to do that, bitch. I know you. I know where you work. Now you turn around there and enjoy the show my boys are putting on for you." He gestured toward the other two, and light glinted off a metal object in his hand. A gun!

  The pounding of my pulse in my ears drowned out anything else he might have said as I slowly turned, following orders. I would look, and then they could leave, satisfied at having scared me.

  The one man had his pants open, half-erect penis in his hand, staring at me as if imagining the terrible things he wanted to do. Revulsion gagged me and I tried to look away, only to find the second man. He had his jeans down too, but his attention stayed fixed on the first man.

  I turned back to the front, but the man on my hood smiled and nodded toward his friends, keeping his gun pointed right at my head. Unable to think of anything else to do, I turned back to face the others. The one with the gun, I recognized him now. He lived a few doors from me, on the other side of Chris' apartment. He'd always seemed so nice.

  Could I start the car, put it in gear, and floor it before he could shoot me? Maybe. But that wouldn't change the fact that he knew where I lived and worked. Think of something else, and don't react. They'll get bored and go away. The advice I gave myself sounded like a good idea.

  Except the first one pressed his erection up against the window. "Come on, bitch, just put the window down. You know
you want it."

  I gagged again, and only the fact that I'd missed lunch and dinner saved the interior of my car. If there had been anything in my stomach, it would have come up. I took careful breaths and tried to calm the reflex and clear my mind at the same time.

  Something struck the front of my car, and it shuddered under the impact. I whipped my head around just in time to see the man's head hit the car, while a big hand twisted the gun away from him. Just as suddenly, one of the two beside my window fell over. The one with his penis on the window turned to meet the threat, only for a heavy boot to his groin to crumple him over in agony.

  My savior leaned down, revealing his face to me. "Are you okay, Azia?" Flag.

  I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself as my entire body started to shake. Adrenaline. Logically, I knew what caused the tremors, but I still had no ability to stop them.

  "Grab your stuff and come on. Let's get you inside." His commanding tone left no room for argument, even if I had been capable at the moment.

  Gathering my purse and phone, I climbed out, trying not to look at the men on the ground. "Are they…"

  "Dead? No. They'll just have nasty headaches, and that one won't walk right for a week." He took my elbow. "You have your keys?"

  I nodded, still numb and shaking. "How did you…"

  "I followed you." As if that explained everything, he changed the subject. "You know those guys?"

  "No. Well, yes. The one with the gun lives down the hall from me." I barely recognized my own voice.

  "Great neighborhood you got here. Show me where your place is."

  A flicker of annoyance set in as I started walking. "It's usually really quiet. Nothing like this has ever happened before."

  He grunted, as if he only half believed me. "You have a gun?"

  My feet refused to move further. "Of course not. Why would I?"

  He gave another grunt and propelled me forward, steadying me when I stumbled. "You don't watch the fucking news?"

  The annoyance turned into a flame of anger. "Yes, but I'm a Kindergarten teacher, not a prostitute. My lifestyle is hardly high-risk."