THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle

by Kristina Weaver

  “You okay?”

  I shrug and flip my pencil down, rubbing at my neck as fatigue settles over me like a stone.

  “Yeah, just thinking. You know, I keep wondering and wondering about all this and it just never clicks for me, ya know. I’ve never been in this sort of situation, so I don’t know what to think or where to look first, and it’s starting to really bug me. I mean really, what is more hurtful than someone trying to off you?”

  My tone is sardonic, but inside I’m deadly serious. Someone wants me dead. I keep going back to the whole once-off, crazy-person theory, but that also doesn’t make sense unless some serial killer just randomly picked me.

  At this point, weird as you may assume it is, I almost wish that were true, because at least I’d know what the hell is going on. As it is, I’m in stasis. I’ve planned the move, with some inside help from Lenny and Cleo, who have secretly found me a house to rent and paid the first month’s rent and the security deposit, which I will give back when I can leave this place and go settle business in the city.

  I emailed my bank manager with my plans, and he’s sent me some instructions while ensuring me that with what I make and the business as collateral, I will get a loan, no hassle.

  That’s two birds so far with just the lawyers and Kimber to tick off next.

  But it doesn’t mean I can just move on either even though I’m leaving on Monday. Jericho most certainly will not let me go before he has a clear resolution, and I’m guessing Blaze won’t either.

  So yeah, stasis.

  “I’ve been over it and over it as have Lex, King, Jericho, and even Storm, who finally got back yesterday. We’re all stumped, Evie. You’re not a bitch with a slew of enemies, and you’re a freaking blood donor for God’s sake. It’s…annoying as hell not being able to figure this out. Even Harris is ready to throw in the towel, and he’s a pitbull who never gives up on a case.”

  I bite into my lips and lean back with a huff.

  “Have you fired anyone lately or pissed off an employee?”

  “I fired one model because she was a bitch, but it’s not her, Blaze. She’s actually not so bad, and I’ve rehired her through Giselle after one of the others quit to do an ad campaign that paid more. My employees all like me, but then why wouldn’t they? I pay well and have been planning to start up insurance for them, so yeah, not them.”

  He scowls and sits back with a muttered curse, eyeing me again. I don’t meet his gaze. I just stare out at the yard as Batshit runs around in circles barking at his tail in a frenzy. Damn dog is just too cute, and I’ll miss him when I leave tomorrow morning.

  “You can’t go home until this is done, Evie. You know that, right?”

  Snorting. Loudly. And with gusto.

  “Ya think, Peters? I know that, but do not worry, reluctant roomy, I already made other plans. Jericho’s coming to get me.”

  “But your meeting—”

  “Was cancelled days ago. You were right. I don’t want all of this, and I won’t do it anymore just to make Kimber happy. I called her from Cleo’s phone and told her how I feel, and she was not at all happy to hear that I wouldn’t come home and talk this out. I’m going into the city tomorrow to hand in my loan papers, and then we’re meeting with lawyers to nail out the sale. I’m buying her share and keeping things just as they are.”

  That surprises him, and I take note of the way he frowns for being the last one to know all this when, just days ago, I’d have probably told him first and asked his advice.

  See how that feels, Blaze Peters? You feel that hurt and exclusion? That’s what I felt when I saw you looking at your ugly fucking ex-wife moments after you changed my entire world.

  That’s how I felt after trying to make the best of a messed-up situation only to have you screw me over, literally.

  I’m not usually spiteful, but I feel a measure of satisfaction at the way he’s feeling when he realizes that I purposely excluded him from my plans.

  “You never said a thing.”

  “Because it was none of your business, Peters. We were at least friends before you decided to become the biggest dick in creation, but now…let’s just say that I wouldn’t tell you what color panties I’m wearing if I don’t have to. You’re a bastard, a cold, lonely, miserable bastard who’s so wrapped up in some ugly woman that you can’t see through all the misery you love to court. I don’t want that in my life, and I won’t have it either.”

  “You knew that score from the get-go, so don’t you try to blame this all on me,” he snarls, his face blanching.

  My mouth twists with a silent snarl, and I face off against him, needing this fight, wanting something to take with me when I go.

  “No, you’re right. I did know the score. If I recall, you fuck. I just never thought you’d twist me up inside and then fuck me over as if I mean nothing more to you than some experiment you wanted to do to see if you could still “wallow.” What happened? I wasn’t good enough for you, Peters? Well, guess what? You’re not good enough for me. You’re too miserable to see what’s right in fucking front of you, and you know what, I’m done trying to show you the way. You want to be alone? Go ahead. I’ve had years of it myself, and I will never go back to it again.”

  I’m yelling by the end, my screams and the rage I feel toward him and myself so cathartic, so much easier to deal with than the grief I’ve been lugging around.

  “You’re naïve! What did you think, Evie, that I’d sleep with you and realize that you’re the one and we’d live happily ever after?” he sneers, stalking to the window to watch the dog.

  “Yes! Is that what you want to hear? I feel for you and my stupid, moronic, inept little mind just hopped, skipped, and jumped to happily ever after and the white picket fence. So what? I was wrong, and that’s on me, but you had no right to make me feel like a whore, and you have no right to make me love you when you still love that ugly fucking hag. You know what…?”

  I’m done.

  “Don’t walk away from this. You started it. I warned you that I was not a good bet for all that love shit. I knew this would happen, but you pushed and pushed, Evie.”

  I did. Because I saw someone wanting more. I saw him all alone, just like I am, and I thought we could fill those spaces and be what each other needed. I know we could be if he’d just let me in.

  “Yeah, because I see you, Peters, and I know what you need. I just don’t know how to give it to you when you keep throwing me away,” I say tearfully.

  He doesn’t stop me this time, and I’m almost disappointed as I take the stairs to the guestroom and start throwing a bag together. The front door slams minutes later, and I rush down to see his truck driving through the gates and stopping to watch them close before he pulls away again.

  Well, good fucking riddance to you too, asshole.

  It takes just minutes for me to grab my phone from his precious safe. He thought I didn’t see him inputting the combination, silly man, that’s my phone; it’s like my electronic offspring.

  Once I have it and I’m able to communicate with the outside world, I hit the basement and start searching for the hidden exit. The thing is well hidden, but I finally find it behind a trunk that stands waist high.

  Getting it open takes two hard presses, but when it swings open I feel free. That asshole may think he can drive off and leave Rapunzel pining away for him to come back to her, but this bitch is no fool. I know how to slay the witch all on my own and I sure as heck won’t rely on him to save me.

  It’s time to find out who the hell is after me so I can start living my life again, the way I want. And Blaze Peters can kiss my fat ass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Evaline

  I get back into the city three hours later after walking a tunnel that was miles, miiiiiiles long and finally reaching the end where a steel door with one of those old wheel type lock thingies led into the woods.

  In the movies, the woods are always bright and sunny. That shit was not. It creeped me t
he hell out to trudge through those creepy trees forever and then fight my way to the main road.

  I hitched a lift with some old gal passing into the next town over and thanked her kindly. Then I hitched with a trucker on the way to the city and here I am, safe and sound and definitely rethinking this whole catch the killer and prove myself scenario my rage-filled gourd had going on.

  I am truly, truly afraid that I am about to die, and there is not one person here to help me unless I count Merle, who may be colorful, but is as useless in a fight as a cat in water.

  “Honey, this is just plain madness and you know it.”

  “Shut up, Merle, and tell me how awesome I am before I pee myself,” I mutter, checking myself over in the mirror.

  I have two missions: one, meet with Kimber, so I can maybe try to salvage our friendship before we meet the lawyers tomorrow; and two, draw out a murderer.

  Kimber actually yelled at me on the phone and told me to get my ass back to Jericho. It seems she may hate me right now, but she still loves me enough to want me alive.

  Heartwarming.

  I won’t though. I’m so sick and tired of being someone’s responsibility, their burden, the little woman who can’t fend for herself because she needs protection and help.

  If I keep on letting my brother protect me, he will never see me as anything other than his responsibility, and I won’t have it anymore. I need to stand up and fight and show him that I can be his sister and love him for no other reason than I want to. Not because he’s protecting me or looking out for me financially.

  This is my first step. If I survive this, I fully intend to take out a loan big enough to not only buy Kimber out, but also to pay Jericho back in full. I want free of the responsibility and his assurance that I need him for more than what he can provide.

  He needs to know that all I want is his love, and for us to build our relationship to the point where we actually know each other. I can do this; no, I will do this and no one will stop me.

  Even me. Even if I am shit scared and ready to start crying.

  “Don’t go out there without that boy to protect you, Evie. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s my life, Merle. Blaze won’t be there to protect me much longer, and if I’d been luckier, Merle, he’d never have been there in the first place.”

  Her face falls and I’m enveloped in Opium perfume and the smell of hair dye as she pulls me into her heaving bosoms and hugs me tightly.

  “Aw, honey, you done gone and fell for that blue-eyed devil, didn’t you?”

  “Fell. Leaped. Landed flat on my face and bled out, Merlie baby,” I say, swallowing my tears for a time when I can afford to have a good long cry.

  Not now. Kimber, killer, Jericho.

  After that, I can wallow.

  The word makes me choke, and I shake myself sternly, as I pull away from Merle and straighten.

  “I’m going to work like I always do on a Sunday, and I’m going to talk to Kimber. Don’t worry, Merle, you know she’s always packing, and she’d shoot the fuck out of anyone who came at me, even if we’re not quite seeing eye to eye.”

  “Hmm, I sure do love me a gal who knows how to handle herself.”

  “Behave, and do not call anyone. Please.”

  She huffs as I leave the apartment and ride down to the lobby, my knees shaking in the heels I’ve donned. I’d have skipped them, but Jericho being the awesome badass he is showed me how to use my heels to kill someone if I were so inclined.

  Of course, that’s all fine and well, if I can get close enough. I can’t run for shit in these things, so I’m praying I made the right choice in wearing them. Not that I’m worried anyway. Like I said, Kimber will be at the studio, and I feel safe with her waiting there for me.

  “Be safe, please, Evie. We all love you so much, and I would hate to keep this to myself when someone could be here. Where’s Blaze?”

  “At his home, where he belongs.”

  Where I don’t belong.

  I ignore that voice and give Merle another hug before leaving. The car drive to the studio isn’t all that long, but I use the time to think about things again, not for the first time wishing like hell that I could have made Blaze feel just a little something for me.

  If I’d just been able to have a little of something, I’d have ignored the wedding album. Dammit, that still hurts though and I feel a renewal of my anger rush me as I stop in my parking space and leave the car.

  Freaking look at another woman after screwing me! What a freaking pig.

  “Kimber!”

  I walk up the stairs, making sure the door is securely locked after letting myself in. I call out, my nerves a little freaked out as I ascend to the office level and hear nothing.

  I’m usually here on Sundays, but never before have I felt this creeped out or just plain afraid as I walk into the design office, where I usually draw and create after I dragged a sewing machine in here. The place looks like a bomb hit it since I haven’t cleaned it in a while—fabric offcuts, discarded patterns I didn’t like, and thread spools littering the table.

  I really need to clean this shit up, I think as my hip grazes too close and knocks a pair of fabric shears to the floor.

  “Kimber! Dammit, stop ignoring me; you know I’m freaked out already!” I yell, rubbing my hands over my thighs nervously.

  “Kimbeerrrr!”

  Goddammit! If she’s ditched me without calling, I will so kick her ass no matter what, because damn me, I should not have done this, I think as I swivel and hustle out of my office, making my way back through the open-spaced reception area to the area where mannequins line a big section of the back wall that holds the stairs.

  Mannequins creep me the eff-bomb out, like a lot, but they were cheap since Kimber bought them for wholesale price, and I still get to hang the clothes.

  I’d have liked not to have to stare at the creepy—some headless—things all day, but it’s never been quite this creepy before, and I know why. I see movement just to my left where a group of mannequins are standing together with last spring’s line samples still hanging off them and freeze, feeling my eyes bug.

  Okay, this is either like that weird movie where the mannequin comes to life, a Chucky moment—please no—or someone is staring at me from that crowd.

  The squeak of fear I feel bubbling up escapes before I can stop it, and I know, I just know, that he’s, she’s, someone’s watching me even now and has been for a while, probably since I walked in here.

  There’s nowhere to run since the entire floor is open plan, the stairs are no longer an option because I would have to run right by those mannequins, get down without breaking my neck, and still unlock the door before I can run for my life.

  I am really, honestly screwed, and I have no one to blame for this but myself. All I can pray for now is that whoever this idiot is he isn’t armed, because that is my only chance.

  Gripping my phone tightly, I swipe my thumb over Merle’s number and sigh a little as it vibrates, letting me know that she’s answered.

  “I know you’re there! I know you’re just waiting for me to walk past you so you can shove me down those stairs or attack me. Come out!”

  I’m a mess of nerves and fear, but I force myself not to start panicking too badly when another movement catches my eye and a big, hulk of man steps out into view.

  I don’t recognize him at all, and I have to say my first thought is a relieved sigh that it’s not someone I’ve met before. I mean, honestly, I have feeeeeelings. I would be crushed if someone I knew hated me enough to kill me.

  “Who are you and what do you want? Why do you want to hurt me?”

  He inches closer and I take in the absolute beauty of his face, my mind reeling. It’s stupid, but when I picture villains they’re always gross and pockmarked. This guy is blond, handsome, and he looks like a male freaking model.

  Just great! How the hell am I gonna beat his face if it’s so pretty that all I want to do is coo?

 
“This isn’t personal, so don’t start that crying shit again, lady. I have a job to do, and I aim to get it done this time and get the other half of my money.”

  And then he pulls out a gun, confirming my worst fears that I am, indeed, just really unlucky today.

  “Don’t shoot me. If you’re going to kill me, at least do it like a man.”

  “Lady, you kicked my ass a week ago and broke my fucking tooth. No thanks. You can either come over here to the stairs and we can play this the way I wanted to, or I put a bullet in you.”

  Uh, no thanks, I think as I glance at the stairs with a shudder. I once pushed a mannequin down by accident and what was left of the poor thing after the steep descent and those concrete stairs was not pretty.

  I’m shaking like a leaf but holding my own with a semblance of calm when he finally sighs and seems resigned.

  “Fine.”

  “No!”

  He pulls his arm up and everything goes slow as I try to stumble back and turn to run, recalling Jericho’s voice saying “never make yourself an easy target Evie.”

  It never comes though, because just as I’m tensing to turn and see his hand tense too, a shot rings out and glass explodes. Right before his head does. I’m in a state of utter shock when his eyes go vacant and he topples to the floor, dead as a raccoon in a trailer.

  Wha…?

  “Nooooo!”

  What?

  Kimber runs out from behind the mannequins, her face contorted in rage, and I’m still so shocked that her screams don’t make any sense to me. She drops to her knees next to the dead man. It’s only when she stops screeching and crying and looks up at me that it all clicks into place for me.

  “You?”

  “Me. All me the whole time,” she says, rising shakily and pointing the gun that she grabbed from the floor straight at my chest.

  This time, though she’s sure to keep herself in front of one of the wide columns that break up the wall of windows, and I’m helpless when she raises the gun and looks me dead in the eye.