by Alexa Davis
"I always wondered what it would be like to grow up with brothers," he said. "I guess that's why I joined the Navy. To find out what it's like."
"Charlie and Mike are my sisters," I grinned. Everyone made that mistake. "Charlie's given name is Charlotte and Mike's is Mikayla. My mother wouldn't let my father give them the actual call letter words because she was afraid of what might happen if they ever wanted to run for president."
"Are you kidding me?" he laughed.
"I wish I was," I said shaking my head. "But I assure you I am not."
"What about you? Is Echo your given name?" he asked.
"Yep, it sure is," I nodded as I took a drink from my beer.
"Why didn't you get a given name, too?" he asked.
"Because I was the last one and my mother said at that point she was tired of fighting about naming girls with my father," I said.
"So, basically you got your name because they were too tired to argue about it," he said with a surprised look on his face.
"I suppose you're right," I nodded. "My name was the result of peace due to exhaustion."
Ryan burst out laughing as he drank deeply from the bottle in his hand, then wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and let out a huge belch. I started laughing, too.
"So, what about this not growing up on a farm thing," he said. "I'm curious."
I took a deep breath and decided to tell him the truth about my upbringing, and for the next hour I spun the tale of my family's extremely regimented life. I told him about my father's time in Vietnam and how his PTSD would sometimes cause him to drink until he couldn't get up out of his chair in front of the television. Other times he'd be fully functional and would wake my sisters and me up at the crack of dawn to do training exercises with him. He'd tell us that after we ran the obstacle course, he'd make us pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and while he usually did, we knew that saying no was never an option. As we got older, my father's mental health deteriorated to the point that when I was in high school, he'd spend the summers in the local mental ward receiving electroshock therapy. It was brutal, but he'd usually have a few good months after the treatments until he started descending back into his own hellish memories.
"My sisters were the first ones to get out of the house," I explained. "Mike, she's the oldest, joined the Army and put in for duty anywhere but near home. Charlie married her high school sweetheart a month after graduation and moved to the South Side of Chicago where they bought a small house and had two kids. And then there's me."
"And you applied to NYU and got out of Peoria," Ryan finished.
"Actually, I came to New York, applied to NYU and got accepted," I said. "I moved here with a plan, but nothing in place. It was a total crap shoot."
"But it's worked out well for you it seems," he said patting my foot with his large hand. The feeling of his skin against mine sent a shiver up my spine and I had to fight to keep from asking him to keep his hand on me.
"So what about you?" I asked. "What's your family's story?"
Ryan looked at me for a long moment before he cleared his throat and said, "I'm going to need another beer if I'm going to tell that tale of woe."
"Of course!" I said as I popped up off the sofa and ran to the fridge. I grabbed two beers, popped the tops and was back on the couch in a flash.
"You must really want to hear this story," he laughed as he accepted the bottle and then took a long drink from it. It took him almost as long as it had taken me to tell the story of his family and by the end of it I was in tears. I looked down and shrugged a little as he said, "Aw, don't get all worked up about it. I miss her terribly, but I was glad she wasn't in pain. I think it was harder for my father to lose her than it was for me, though. He was incredibly lonely after she died."
"I can only imagine," I said wiping my eyes and trying not to imagine how lonely Dr. Powell must have been after his wife's death.
"He was a good father," Ryan said. "He tried, and like my mother always said, honest effort is the most important part of any endeavor."
I nodded thinking about my own mother and how she'd spent years making an honest effort to try and help my dad, and how, in the end, she'd given up and let him go.
"What about your parents," he asked. "What are they doing now?"
"They're dead," I said pushing down the emotion that was whirling around inside of me.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied looking worried.
"It's okay," I said. "He went off the rails and hung himself the summer I moved to New York and she died two years later. We didn't know it, but she'd been diagnosed with liver cancer and had opted not to get treatment because she knew the survival rate was so low."
"That's awful," Ryan said. "There's always hope."
"No, I think she knew that my dad was on his way out," I said. "And she didn't want to live in a world where he wasn't."
"That's kind of Romeo and Juliet tragic," Ryan said without a hint of humor.
"No, it's foolish on every level," I countered. "They should have fought to live, but they weren't able to. I have made peace with it."
Ryan nodded and patted my foot again, only this time he left his hand resting on it. I could feel the heat from his fingers radiating up through my leg and warming my entire body, and what I really wanted was to be wrapped in those strong muscled arms again. I tried not to look at him directly as I sat silently sipping my beer. After a long silence, I looked up to find him watching me intently.
"You're an interesting woman, Echo Frost," he said.
"Well, thank you," I replied. "You're an interesting man, Lieutenant Ryan Powell."
"And thank you," he said pulling his hand back and finishing his beer.
"You must be exhausted," I said standing up to gather the dishes and carry them back to the kitchen.
"Here let me help," he offered as he followed bringing an armload of plates and take out containers to the counter. I could feel him standing right behind me as I ran water in the sink and tried to focus on washing plates and silverware. I wanted to step back and feel his chest pressed against me before I turned and kissed him. It took a moment for me to realize he was speaking to me, "Echo? Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, fine," I nodded at the plates in the sink. "Just a little tired."
"You sure you don't want some help," he said from less than a foot behind me. I simply shook my head and then shut off the water and dried my hands on the towel I had slung over my shoulder.
"I'll get them in the morning before work," I said as I moved to the dresser in the living room that doubled as a television stand and storage for my extra bedding. I pulled out sheets and a blanket and offered them to Ryan joking, "You can make your own bed, right, sailor?"
"I can indeed," he grinned.
"All right, well, my bedroom is right up those stairs, so if you need anything, I'm just a couple of words away," I said nodding towards the spiral staircase that reached up toward the ceiling.
"I was wondering where those led," he said. "Good to know."
"Sleep well, Ryan," I said as I climbed the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you, Echo," he said. "I really appreciate this."
The look on his face made me want to run back down the stairs, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, but the good girl in me that didn't do such weird, wild impulsive things nodded and went up to climb into her bed — alone.
CHAPTER NINE
Ryan
I was laying on my stomach in the sand looking out over a small compound where dozens of men carrying assault rifles were gathered. They were speaking in a language I didn't understand, but somehow I knew what they were saying. Two men slowly walked toward the spot where I was hiding talking loudly and gesturing with their rifles. I sunk lower trying to avoid being seen and whispered softly to Opie that he should contact command and ask if we had backup.
When I didn't get a response I turned and found Opie digging a hole in the dirt with his bare hands.
I looked back up and saw the men getting closer and closer. I signaled to Opie to call command, but he ignored me and continued digging. I could feel my heart racing as I yelled at Opie to call command to no avail.
Suddenly I was standing in the doorway of the concrete building where the hostages had been kept. I had no idea how I'd gotten here, but I could see Opie sitting next to me holding the radio and trying to call command. The air was full of the sound of bullets whizzing by our heads and I was firing my rifle toward the sound, but I couldn't see anyone. It was as if the bullets were coming out of thin air. I yelled at Opie to starting returning fire. When he didn't respond, I looked down to my right and saw him lying in a pool of blood that was slowly spreading out beneath him.
"Opie!" I shouted. "Opie, get up, man! Get up! I need your help here!"
His eyes fluttered and he raised his hand, then dropped it down on his chest and closed his eyes. I dropped my weapon and fell to my knees as I grabbed him by the edges of his flack jacket and shook him as I screamed for him to get up and fight.
Suddenly I felt hands on my head and I let go of Opie and grabbed the stranger by the wrists. He was screaming at me in a language I didn't understand as I yelled, "Speak English! Speak English, you son of a bitch!" I shook him as I yelled.
"Ryan! Ryan Powell! Wake up, Ryan!" a voice yelled as I shook the stranger and I emerged from my nightmare to find myself holding Echo by the wrists as she yelled my name and tried to loosen my grip. "Ryan! Wake up! It's me, Echo!"
"Huh? What the—?" I said as I let go and quickly pushed her away from me. "Oh God, Echo, I'm sorry."
"Ryan, what happened?" she asked her eyes full of concern and worry.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I chanted as I pulled my knees up and dropped my head down between them as I tried to get my bearings. "Echo, I'm sorry."
"Ryan, it's okay," she said softly as she put a hand on my head. I pushed her away and covered my head with my hands as I folded into myself trying to understand what had just happened. "Are you okay? Can I get you something? Water?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," I repeated as if saying it would make it true. I was terrified by the dream, but even more worried that I'd hurt her. It took a few minutes of rocking to return my heart rate to a normal speed, and once I did, I looked up at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, you're strong, but not that strong," she smiled as she reached out and rested her hand on my cheek. I looked down, ashamed of my weakness. She continued. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ryan. You had a nightmare, and from what I can tell, it was a pretty rough one. Want to talk about it?"
"Not really," I said shaking my head. I wanted to tell her what had happened, but how do you explain watching your friend die after having been ripped in half by enemy bullets to someone who has never been in a war zone? And why should they have to live with the nightmare that is yours? "Just stuff from a mission that I'd rather forget. Don't worry, I'll clear out in the morning."
"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure you can do that," she said as she sat down next to me on the couch and held out her arms. "C'mere, put your head in my lap and relax. I'll stand watch."
I felt the tears welling up as I looked at her soft warm body and her earnest face offering me a place to hide. I wanted so badly to curl up in her arms and let her watch over me, but to want that felt weak. I was the protector. I was the soldier. How could this small beautiful woman protect me from the memory of my dead friend?
"Ryan," she said again. "It's okay, I'll keep you safe. I promise. I know the monsters."
Wearily, I lay down and rested my head in her lap and closed my eyes as she smoothed my hair and hummed a tune that I recognized but couldn't identify. She smelled like fresh laundry and warm sheets, and the softness of her body both comforted and aroused me. I turned on my side to hide the fact that her touch had made me grow stiff. It was bad enough that she'd witnessed my nightmare. I didn't need to expose myself any more than that.
"I'll pack up in the morning and find somewhere else to crash," I mumbled.
"Nonsense, you'll stay with me," she whispered as I thought I felt her bend forward and kiss my forehead as I drifted into a restless sleep where the nightmares were banished to the outer edges of my consciousness by a warm fire that burned brightly all night long.
CHAPTER TEN
Echo 10
I spent the hours just before dawn watching Ryan sleep, and when I was fairly sure that he wasn't going to have another nightmare, I slid out from underneath him and pushed a soft down pillow under his head. He stirred a little, but didn't wake up as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and caught the last hour of sleep before I had to get up and get ready for work.
By the time I woke an hour later, the apartment was filled with the smell of fresh coffee brewing and I could hear Ryan moving around down in the kitchen. I grabbed my office clothes and descended the stairs to find him standing in front of the stove making pancakes as he sung to himself.
"Good morning," I said quietly trying not to startle him.
"Well, good morning, sleepyhead!" he replied as he flipped a pancake and set the pan back on the stove. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Not bad, and you?" I asked eyeing the stack of pancakes sitting on a plate next to the stove.
"I did okay the second time around," he said quietly, then added, "Thanks for the assist, Echo."
"My pleasure," I replied as I watched him flip the cooked pancake out of the pan onto the top of the waiting stack next to it. "Do I have time to shower and change?"
"Depends on how long you're going to take," he grinned. "Do a SEAL spit bath and you'll be good to go."
"Uh, no thanks," I laughed. "I'm a civilized girl not a warrior. I need my creature comforts."
"Yeah, go ahead, I'll keep it all warm," he smiled as he scooped up another spoonful of batter and spread it in the pan.
I quickly showered and got ready for work, and when I emerged from the bathroom, Ryan let loose a low wolf whistle that made me blush before he handed me a plate full of more pancakes than I could ever hope to eat.
"I'm heading to an office job, Powell," I laughed. "Not a dessert mission!"
"Oh, give me a break," he grinned. "Who doesn't love pancakes?"
We sat down on the couch and I tucked a napkin into the neck of my dress before tucking into the plate. The pancakes were light and fluffy, and I ate with gusto finishing off my plate before Ryan finished his.
"See, I told you so," he said as he took my plate and headed to the kitchen. "More coffee?"
"Yes, please," I replied. He returned with the pot and filled my cup before sitting back down. "So, I was thinking..."
"Uh huh," he said as his face dropped and he looked at the floor. "I know, I told you I'd find another place to crash today, and I will."
"Well, as a mind reader, you suck, my friend," I said as I sipped the hot coffee. "I was going to say that I was thinking that you should stay with me at least until you can get things settled with your father's estate."
"But what about last night?" he asked. The look on his face was heartbreakingly vulnerable.
"What about it?" I asked.
"I could have really hurt you," he said looking down again.
"Yeah, but you didn't," I replied. "Maybe you need to talk to your commander about getting a therapist to talk to so you can let go of the nightmares. It's just a thought. Anyway, I could use a roommate right now since things at work are going to get dicey."
"How do you know that?"
"I just have a feeling that Mr. Baines is up to something that is going to spell trouble for me," I said. "I'm just not sure what that is yet."
"Yeah, Baines is a wild card all right," he replied. "He's been part of my life since I was small, but I've never felt like I really knew him. I'm not sure my father did either."
"Ryan, I have to ask you something, and I'm sorry if it sounds a little insensitive," I said as I dove into the thoughts that had been twisting around in my brain since Juli
an told me that Dr. Powell was dead. "Why did Baines not want you in your father's office yesterday? Have you done something that would make him suspect you were going to steal from the company? Did your father tell you anything about what he was working on?"
"Not that I know of," he said. "But then we weren't in very close contact the past few years. We had a falling out after he married my stepmother, and we didn't talk much. I can't think of any conversation we'd had that would have crossed a line in terms of classified materials. Hell, you probably know far more about what he was doing in the lab that I ever did."
"No, actually, he never shared his lab work with me," I said. "I took care of his office details, his schedule, his email and his mail, and I did some programming for him when he needed certain computer functions for his research, but I never input any data or worked on any files."
"I wonder what Julian is hiding," Ryan said. "I suppose it's possible that he's just a paranoid guy. My father told me Julian had had a rough upbringing, but he'd never told me exactly what that entailed. I supposed he could be in shock over my father's death and be freaking out about how he's going to manage the company without him."
"Anything is possible, I suppose," I said as I got up and dug my phone out of my purse. "I'll try to dig up more information today and see what's going on. Give me your cell number so we can keep in contact, okay?"
As we exchanged numbers, I looked at the clock and realized I was going to be late if I didn't get going. I gathered my purse and put on my shoes and headed for the door.
"Hey Echo?" Ryan called as I opened the door.
"Yeah?"
"Be safe, okay?" he said. The look on his face was so serious that I had to smile. He shrugged, "I don't know, that's what my father always said to me every time I headed out on a mission."
"It's all going to be fine, I promise," I said, then added with a reassuring smile, "My mission is a boring desk job at TriCorp, so there's no real danger involved."
"You know what I mean," he said.
"Hey, if I leave my keys, can you get an extra set made for the apartment?" I called before I headed out the door.