Big Girls Don't Cry

by Taylor Lee

  “Listen up, darlin’. Unless you want me to sit you on my lap and feed you this bite by bite, you’ll take a big swig of that coffee and a bigger bite of that scone.”

  Lexie felt the heat rise in her cheeks, her gut resisting the thought of food. Turning away from his formidable presence, she tried unsuccessfully to stifle the shivery feeling at the thought of him holding her on his lap. When he didn’t move, just kneeled beside her, his hand resting on her knee, she picked up the cup and sipped the spicy liquid.

  “Now a bite of this,” he said, passing her the scone.

  She took a small bite and managed to swallow the flaky pastry.

  When she pushed it away, he tugged it back in front of her.

  “Uh uh, sugar. The threat stands. Eat at least half of that or I’ll feed it to you.”

  The smile died in his eyes. His expression was stern.

  “Lexie, you need to eat, whether I am here or not. You need your strength. How the hell can you do that grueling practice you drive yourself through unless you have fuel – a lot of it?”

  She frowned, wondering how he knew about her practice, then gave up. He seemed to know everything about her. On some level, she was comforted until her overwhelming need for privacy kicked in.

  She shook off his arm and lifted her chin.

  “I’ll eat it. You can stop hovering. It annoys me.”

  He stood up, a wide grin cracking his face.

  “That’s better, sugar. I prefer you spitting tacks at me. Hell of a lot better than being agreeable. That makes me nervous.”

  He sunk down in the chair beside her and pierced her with an expression that she couldn’t decipher.

  He sighed. “I owe you an apology, Lexie.’

  She looked up in surprise. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing her. The frown creasing his brow signaled the former.

  “Look, Lexie, I acted like a horse’s ass yesterday. I have to admit I was mad as hell that you didn’t trust me enough to call me, to tell me about the fucker who’d been in your room.”

  She hesitated. “It wasn’t that I…I didn’t trust you. But I knew you were mad at me for how I…left the restaurant.”

  He scowled. “Yeah. You’re right. I was. But I didn’t have to take it out on you.’’

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “I’m sorry, Lexie. Hell, darlin’, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never acted this way before with a woman. Like some possessive, over protective asshole. You’ve got me tied in knots, Lexie. I don’t know how to describe it. Christ, sugar, most of the time I wanna hold you and never let you go. The rest of the time I want to turn you over my knee and paddle your bare butt.’’

  Lexie gasped. She stared at him in shock. He was smiling at her through hooded eyes, but the smile didn’t erase the troubled look in his eyes. Grasping for distance, anything to stifle the sensations his provocative words triggered, she struggled for a saucy smile.

  “You, Jake? At a loss for words? No Grandma Winnie Mae’s words of wisdom? Uncle Bobbie Joe’s corny admonitions?”

  He quirked his lips, frowning as though deep in thought.

  He gave her a diffident shrug. The teasing glint in his eyes confirmed that he’d found his usual equilibrium.

  “I don’t know, sugar, about the closest I can come is my Uncle Clem. He always said Aunt Silvia made him as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  Lexie shook her head and groaned, but couldn’t hide her smile. She warmed seeing his answering grin. She took another bite of her scone and washed it down with the spicy latte, surprised at how easily she swallowed.

  He nodded at her in approval, then shot her a wicked grin. He said with a low chuckle, “Damn, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t eat that scone. Something about feeding you is downright intriguing.”

  She gnawed on her lips and looked down at her clenched fists. He was teasing her, but she didn’t miss the suggestive undertone in his voice – or her reaction.

  Certain that she was blushing, she took another swallow of coffee, then said in a firm voice. “It’s nearly eleven. We should go.”

  Jake nodded in agreement. He stood up and moved to the living room. He checked the window locks and the sliding glass door, and then headed to the bedroom. He looked over his shoulder with an apologetic shrug.

  “Sorry, sugar. Fifteen years of training.”

  Coming out of the bedroom, Jake studied her with a quizzical frown.

  “Didn’t want to try the bed, Lexie?”

  When she didn’t answer, his voice was soft, husky. “You should. It’s a hell of a comfortable bed.”

  He raked his eyes over her body and winked at her.

  “Lots of times I wished I could spend the whole day in it.”

  Chapter 12

  “Is…is this the morgue?”

  Jake’s heart squeezed seeing her frightened stare at the low stucco building. Damn, given how tough she was it always surprised him to get a glimpse of her vulnerable side, the frightened little girl hiding behind the hard-bitten woman who faced the world with a fierce glare.

  “No, Lexie. This is where my office is.”

  He opened the door to the jeep and helped her down. When she tried to pull away, he grasped her elbow tight and moved toward the building.

  Several officers coming toward them stopped and stepped aside, saluting him. He returned their salutes with a curt nod and eased her through the tempered glass doors. Punching a code on the keypad, he waited until the heavy doors opened, then guided her inside.

  A young soldier jumped up from behind the guard desk. He flushed and spun a smart salute to Jake. His voice was high pitched, nervous.

  “Good… good afternoon, I mean… morning, sir.” He looked at Lexie and flushed brighter. “And… you too, ma’am. Welcome.”

  Jake’s voice was curt. “Thank you, Private Moran. Did Dr. Chang arrive?”

  “Yes. Yes, sir! He is in your office. Should I bring you coffee, sir, or sodas? Sir.”

  Jake caught her gaze. When she shook her head, Jake nodded to the young soldier standing stiffly behind the desk staring at Lexie.

  “Just water, Private.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” the private said with a start.

  Jake softened his gaze. “At ease, Private Moran. Bring us several bottles of water and then see that we are not disturbed.”

  The soldier bounded out from behind the desk, accidentally bumping a stack of folders showering a flutter of paper to the floor. He groaned and fell to his knees, grabbing at the papers.

  Jake couldn’t hold back a grin. He shook his head at the embarrassed soldier and murmured to Lexie, “See the effect you have? Glad it’s not just me that you make nervous as hell.”

  Taking pity on the scrawny soldier crawling behind the desk after the flyaway papers, Jake said, “Relax, soldier. It’s not every day that you see one of the most beautiful women you’re likely to meet.”

  The private looked up from the floor and gave him a shaky smile. “No, no, sir. Thank you, sir, for understanding.”

  Private Moran turned to Lexie, and visibly swallowed, his Adams’ apple bobbing in his bony neck. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I … I didn’t mean to stare.” He finished with a rush. “But Colonel Gardner is correct. You are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

  Lexie graced the young man with a soft smile and whispered, “Thank you, Private Moran.”

  Jake was still chuckling as he guided her into the room at the end of a long hallway.

  ~~~

  Lexie hesitated at the doorway. She looked up at Jake. His expression was serious, all traces of teasing humor gone. She saw him for what he was, a respected soldier, a commander. His gaze was solemn, but kindness radiated in his startling blue eyes. He waited for her, didn’t force her to enter. She took a deep breath. She pushed his hand away from her arm and walked into the room, her head held high.

  An older Chinese man sitting at the con
ference table jumped up when they entered. He bowed to Jake and then to her.

  When Lexie returned his bow and greeted him in Chinese, a soft smile spread across his face.

  His voice was soft, tinged with the musical accents that never failed to calm her spirit.

  “Ah, yes. Miss Beloi. I remember your brother told me that his sister spoke Mandarin Chinese.” He added, “And like your brother, you are a Kung Fu master, trained by Master Wan Li, yes? I have never had the honor of meeting him, but he is a famous sensei. You are fortunate to have trained with him.”

  Lexie nodded in agreement, a twinge of guilt gripping her chest. She hadn’t called Master Wan or Madam Juen since she left San Francisco. She didn’t want to hear the pain in their voices. She didn’t think she could bear it.

  Jake broke in, ushering her to a chair across from the solemn man with the haunted eyes. Even before Jake introduced him, Lexie knew Dr. Chang had seen much pain in his lifetime, but still allowed it to affect him. Unlike so many of the policemen and soldiers she met, he had not put up a wall to protect himself from other people’s raging grief. She was glad he was here.

  Jake was speaking to her. “I invited Dr. Chang to join us, Lexie. He is the head pathologist on base. Dr. Chang can answer any questions you have that I can’t answer.”

  Jake called out in response to a cautious knock at the door. Private Moran entered carrying a rattling tray of glasses and bottles of water. He stumbled against the doorframe, precariously tilting the bottles of water tingling against the glasses. His scarlet cheeks flamed brighter.

  Jake gave a heavy sigh.

  “Thank you, private. Just put the tray on the corner of the table. I’ll take it from there.”

  The young soldier nodded, placing the tray next to Jake. His hands shook and a bottle of water fell on its side with a clang. Jake rolled his eyes and dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.

  “At ease, soldier. You’re excused.”

  As the door closed behind the hapless young man, Jake muttered, “Sure hope somebody warns me when Private Moran takes to the shooting range. I’ll make a point of being in Afghanistan.”

  For a short moment, his small joke lightened the grim silence at the table.

  Jake poured three glasses of water and handed one to Lexie and another to Dr. Chang.

  Jake turned to face her. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. He held her gaze, not letting her look away. The fear that had been gnawing at her for five days reared up. She thought she might choke on it. Jake’s stern expression catapulted her anxiety to new heights.

  His voice was quiet, firm.

  “Lexie, I need to give you fair warning.”

  Glancing at the ominous stack of papers in the center of the table, he said, “This report is going to be difficult for you to read. Before you read it, I want to tell you the reason that I kept it back, held on to it for a couple of days. I have been meeting with the M.E., Dr. Chang, and the other pathologists pushing them to answer questions that I needed answered. I needed their best judgment on what happened to Anthony.”

  Lexie tried to sort through his words. What was he saying? What was he going to tell her? She cast a wary eye at the report and looked away. She wanted to hear the answers from Jake, not some anonymous papers.

  She heard his voice coming as if from a distance. “I’m glad we did, Lexie. I’m glad we persisted. Dr. Chang wrote this report. Contrary to the first report, Dr. Chang indicates with virtual certainly that the trauma to Anthony’s body was done after his death.”

  She shuddered. Trauma? What kind of trauma? Her fear spiked, drenching her with icy cold. Her heart hammered painfully against her chest. When Jake started to respond to her unspoken questions, she held up her hand to stop him.

  Reaching for the neatly bound report, she read Anthony’s name on the cover. Her chest tightened.

  Flipping open the report, she began to read. At first it was dry, impersonal. It could have described any dead body. Then she turned the page and read the word “Traumas” at the top of the page. Ice crept up her spine. She forced herself to read the bulleted points, one after another, each more horrifying than the last. When she reached the bottom of the page, she put her head on the table, sucking in huge gulps of air, but not able to breathe. She put her hands over her ears as if she could prevent the words from reaching her brain. Over the din in her ears, she heard Jake’s voice at a distance, as if she was in a tunnel.

  “Can you drink some water, Lexie?”

  She jerked up, staring at him, then back at the page in disbelief. The words were still there. She saw them through a haze of red.

  From a distance, she heard Jake’s chair scrape against the floor and felt him next to her, his knee pressed against her leg.

  He took the report out of her hands and put it in the middle of the table. His voice was firm. “Breathe, baby. C’mon, darlin’. Take a deep breath.”

  He rubbed her back until her gasps for air began to fill her lungs. When she could breathe without choking, she forced out the question. She didn’t recognize her voice. It sounded like a wounded animal caught in a vicious trap.

  “Who…who could do this? Who could to this to another human being?”

  Jake gave a harsh sigh. “That’s what we’re going to find out, Lexie. We’re going to find them.”

  Her voice quavered. “It’s the gangs, isn’t it? This is the kind of thing they do.”

  “It may or may not be.” Jake’s voice was sharp. “We don’t know, but whoever it is, we’re going to find them.”

  Lexie felt the familiar blaze of panic overtake her. It caged her the way it always did. She struggled to breathe, fought helplessly to loosen its ugly grip.

  From a distance, she heard Dr. Chang’s gentle words. She felt his hand on her shoulder.

  “Miss Beloi, I regret more than I can say that you have to deal with this. Here is my card. Call me with any questions. I will leave now.”

  Jake stood up and walked the diminutive man to the door.

  Dr. Chang looked back at Lexie. His expression was grave.

  “I can prescribe something for her, to lesson…”

  Jake shook his head, glancing at the immobile woman sitting at the table.

  “No…she won’t take anything. I know her well enough by now. She’s going to want to face this with all her faculties in place.”

  When the door closed behind Dr. Chang, Jake walked back to the table.

  Lexie was sitting silently staring ahead of her. She looked frozen, as if she was in some kind of fugue state.

  Jake pulled back her chair and reached for her.

  “Come here, Lexie. Let me hold you.”

  He pulled her out of her chair and held her. She stood in his arms, unbending, a wooden statue, frozen with grief.

  For several minutes, he held her, whispering comforting words, rubbing her back and arms. Dropping light kisses on her the top of her head, trying to bring life back to her rigid body.

  Finally, he whispered in her ear. “Let go, darlin’. Let it go,” he urged. “Sometimes it helps to cry, Lexie. It can make you feel better. And, hell, I have a shoulder broad enough to cry on ….”

  She cut off his words, her voice was ragged, harsh. She glared at him.

  “I don’t cry. Ever. I never cry.”

  Jake’s horror at her words mobilized him.

  He stepped back and lifted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. His voice was hard, demanding.

  “Look at me, Lexie. I need you to understand. You know how strong Anthony was. Hell, he’s the only guy in my life that could get the better of me. Not every time we sparred, but enough so I know the kind of fighter he is. No one could have done this to him unless he was taken from behind. The fact that there were no defensive wounds--that bruise and gash on the back of his head confirms that he was unconscious. You need to hear this, Lexie. We’re convinced that the trauma…”

  Lexie reared up, shoving his hands away. Her fa
ce was a ghastly white. Her voice was a low contained shriek.

  “Say it, Jake. Say what the “trauma” was. Give it a name. Say that every bone in his arms and legs was broken! That his hands … and his feet… were cut off, no hacked off! That his throat was slashed…and…and then… they cut off his head.”

  Her voice died for a moment, then with a hard glare she faced him.

  “And…and then after they had done all of that, they doused him with gasoline and set him on fire.”

  Jake closed his eyes, blinded by her rage.

  Her voice was a sharp knife.

  “You’re telling me that happened after he died, Jake? Is that what you are telling me? And you are how sure of that, Jake? 90 percent? 50 percent? 99 percent? Tell me, Jake. How sure are you? Tell me, dammit!”

  Jake’s voice was as ragged as hers. “Darlin’ we’re as sure as we can be. There’s no sign of smoke inhalation in his lungs. No sign he was breathing at the time. My gut tells me …”

  She broke in, fury raging across her face.

  “Stop! I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to hear any of it! I’m not interested in your analysis. I don’t care what you think you know.”

  She pushed away from him and grabbed for her purse.

  “I want to go home. Please, Jake, take me home.”

  He sighed. His voice was gentle but firm.