Hero

by Shani Greene-Dowdell

  When he simply stared at me as if no one had ever told him something good about himself, I deduced I’d left him speechless. “I’m going to leave you with a question. You can answer it for me the next time we meet.”

  “What is it?” He sat up, listening avidly just as I wanted him to.

  “Are any of us worthy, Mr. Graham?” I got up, or I’d continue to sit there. He was easy to talk to once I knew he was a mostly harmless man. “I’ll walk you out. Make another appointment with Miss. Clark for whatever time fits your schedule between nine and five, Monday through Saturday. Two weeks is the longest you should go without seeing me. When you come back, I want a full report on your days at the carnival and an answer to my question. You may write down your thoughts on it if you want to for me to read.” I was not above tricking people into journaling. It was a healthy, informal way of releasing secrets and pent-up feelings between sessions.

  He stood with me, extending his hand. “Is it okay if I come back this week? I like the laughing part of the session very much.” More than likely, he was discovering that he liked laughing period. What a sad way to learn that about himself.

  I placed my palm against his. “I’m completely fine with that, Mr. Graham. I don’t mind you laughing at me as long as you understand it’s not a guarantee each session. I have been known to bring people to tears… mostly from boredom.”

  I should have taken my hand back from his by now, but hadn’t. His touch was warm, callused while soft, and electric. All my cylinders were firing from all points just from a handshake. I had never been so alive. All the more reason to slip my hand from his gently, slowly.

  “Alright, Mr. Graham. Go have fun. That’s an order.”

  Disappointed at having to unhand him literally, I went to open the door. He tailed me out. My spine prickled at his nearness. I felt locked in someone’s crosshairs. He was definitely checking out my backside. It was all I could do to deter the smile determined to form on my mouth. Athena glimpsed up from her computer screen. Beside the device was an enormous crystal vase with a big red bow and bouquet of flowers. A tiny envelope stuck out of the petals.

  I halted in my tracks, palming my stomach as it roiled. My gut was screaming Chad Lowell had found me. The big red bow and tiny white envelope was his calling card.

  Athena eased up from her chair. “Dr. Johnston, is everything alright?”

  No, it most certainly was not.

  “Dr. Johnston,” Mr. Graham called, sidling up next to me. “Who are the flowers from?”

  My mouth worked to satisfy their questions, but no words emitted. Nothing was functioning but my stomach. It worked overtime somersaulting then dipping. I forecasted my lunch reentering my throat any second now. How messed up was I that mere flowers reduced me to inoperable?

  Mr. Graham left my side, approaching the desk. “Miss. Clark, read the note that came with the flowers.”

  Athena gawked at me for permission. A mixture of me shaking and bobbing my head simultaneously was all I could give her. She could take that however she wanted to, do whatever with the gift. I wasn’t touching it ever.

  Athena removed the card, reading it aloud. “Congratulations, baby girl. We’re so proud of you. Mama and Daddy.”

  The flowers that I couldn’t break eye contact with were from my parents. Not Chad. It still took a full minute for all that to fully register. The grip of terror gradually liberated its hold on me. I didn’t feel free, only tired. Chad Lowell was still out there.

  Reeling around toward my office, I stumbled inside. Dropping into the throne back chair behind my desk like a stone, I closed my eyes tight. Mr. Graham entering the room felt like a tangible object rubbing against my senses. For a split second, I permitted my patient’s proximity to eliminate the raw loneliness only a shitstorm could create. I couldn’t make that a habit. His broad shoulders weren’t the ones I could lean on ethically.

  Mr. Graham lowered unhurriedly into the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of my desk. “Dr. Johnston, who did you think those flowers were from?”

  Drained, I let my head lull to the side, too heavy to hold up. “If I answer that, I’ll commit professional misconduct. Patients are not supposed to get involved in their doctors’ lives. It leads to the crossing of some lines that can’t be uncrossed.” With him, I’d probably cross all of them without a care for the consequences. All the more reason not to bend his ears about my past.

  Mr. Graham puffed out a breath from succulent lips. “It’s just a question, Dr. Johnston. We won’t enter into a romantic relationship if you answer it. The door is opened. Miss Clark can hear us if that makes you feel better. She’s my witness that I’m asking only in a professional capacity as a Marine whose duty is always to protect and defend. Plus, I’d be breaking my oaths if I left you here to deal with an abusive boyfriend or a stalker. Does either of that explain why you’ve opened this new office in New York?”

  “Mr. Graham, I know you mean well, but we can’t talk about this. Please understand that.”

  One look at my fumbling hands and he deduced I was lying. “If you’re afraid of someone bothering you, you can talk to me. I’ve dealt with bad guys all my life.”

  Kneading shaking fingers together, I dared to tell the first patient to walk through my new office’s doors that I’d fled California to seek refuge in New York. One last-ditch effort to get him to leave was all I had left before I divulged everything. “Thank you for your concern, but I can handle it from here.” Chad Lowell hadn’t found me yet.

  Mr. Graham gave me a single duck of his head as acceptance of my demand. “Is it okay if I come every day? I’m in a hurry to join the FBI. Their next picks for Quantico is in a month and a half. My next birthday is in two, and will disqualify me from ever being hired.”

  Who was I to stand in the way of him being great? I imitated his gesture of acceptance. Without another word, he vacated his seat. A dull ache bloomed in my chest as he sauntered away.

  Tobin

  Dr. Johnston came across as capable of handling whatever situation was distressing her but not while shaking like a leaf. Something was terribly wrong. Something terrible brought her to New York. I was going to stick like glue to her until I got to the bottom of that something. Meanwhile, I’d be watching Cherise’s back and coaching myself on how to stop wanting to be with her.

  Upon setting an appointment with the receptionist for the next day, my mind began listing things I‘d require for stakeouts. Whoever was bothering Dr. Johnston would make their next move sooner or later. They’d have me to deal with when they did.

  Climbing in my truck, I fired up the engine. A searing gust of heat blew out the vent, quickly turning frigid. Just the way I liked it. A few blocks down was an assortment of restaurants. Today, I elected for freshly cooked, loaded bean burritos, hold the salt. Returning to the office block, I passed by my previous parking space in front of Cherise’s business and parked further down the lot. I settled in to catalog who was often in the area.

  Construction workers toiled diligently to ready the other suites in the building. Random people passed by on foot every few minutes to get to the bus stop down the street. No one paid an unusual amount of consideration to Dr. Johnston’s office. No one rode by more than once or at a peculiar speed. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I hoped like hell it stayed that way but expected hell to break loose all the same. For a week, I waited, observed, and trailed her home every day.

  When she left for the office in the morning, I was there. If she noticed she had an unwanted escort to and fro her gated community, she never said so during our sessions. I wasn’t about to bring it up during either. Each day, I examined her for signs that something had changed for the worse. If that was the case, she didn’t give it away. Calm and collected as ever, she listened to me pour my heart out about my life choices. Some choices, life made for me. Not once did she give the impression that she judged me for any of it. Maybe if she had, I wouldn’t be so hung up on her.

  The w
oman gave me chill bumps and a hard-on when crossing her legs. When she spoke in that sensual, husky tone, it was almost impossible to not hurdle the distance dividing us and kiss her senseless. Fear of her refusing to counsel me afterwards kept my ass on the couch, spilling my guts. It was time to do it all over again this fine Friday morning.

  My truck took up the space directly in front of her office door. I had thirty minutes until therapy and nothing much else to do. Andre had to have sensed my boredom because he called. Having not heard from him in a week, I damn near jabbed my finger through the pulsating green symbol on my radio bluetoothed to my phone.

  “Andre, my boy. You must’ve gotten a weekend leave and missed me?” I joked, salvaging a bottle of water from the small cooler amongst quite a few other items on the passenger’s seat. A gleaming gray Glock was one of them, a journal with a whole lot of depressing shit in it another.

  “I see you’ve got jokes, Tobin.” Then why wasn’t he laughing? “But, you’re right. I’m still in the barracks because I have no one I trust to go to the bar with. You and me had a flawless system for fucking off. I watched your back, you watched mine. We got buzzed together and got an ass full of sand because you have an affinity for the sky and its moving parts. Now, all that’s in the wind, thanks to you.” He wasn’t laughing because he was in a funk about having to convince the higher-ups to offer me a general discharge instead of dishonorably discharging me from the Marines. He would have preferred to have me there instead of enjoying civilian life thousands of miles away. Still. I was the only friend he needed, according to him, since he didn’t trust easily.

  Sighing, I chugged the water, capping it when I’d had enough. “Man, I’m going to say it again, I’m sorry. I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Someone had to be here for my brother. Lindon could’ve sent me home on leave. He didn’t. Well, not a temporary leave anyway. That doesn’t mean we can’t still assemble for leisure time. We’ll just have to catch planes, suffer through jet lag, and hope you get used to flying with others soon because you can’t fly worth a damn.”

  Andre’s trust issues made him insufferable on a flight. If he didn’t know the pilot personally, which he never did, he’d rather be at the helm of the plane. The problem was he didn’t know how to fly. By the end of the flight, everyone on it knew how he felt about flying with a stranger at the controls. It was downright irrational. Nobody was perfect, though, with the exception of Cherise. She was perfection personified even if she answered my questions with a question most times.

  “I want us to fuck off here in Hawaii, Tobin,” Andre’s masculine but snippy tone reverberated throughout the truck. “The beach with floss for bikinis-wearing Hawaiian women are here. How was Greg’s funeral? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” Rant over, he was ready to move on to the next topic.

  That was fine by me. “Even more sadder without you there. Thugs and shady women came out in droves to attend. I didn’t know ninety-nine percent of them. The one percent I knew, I wanted no dealings with even when we were making money together. So yeah, I miss you too. I need a better class of friends to hang with here.”

  “You said friends, but you didn’t include women. You’re a man, so that might mean you’ve met someone. If you have, who is she?” Damn, he was quick to pick up on that.

  “My dream girl for the second time,” I said plainly.

  “Oh!” he bellowed, damaging my eardrums. “My boy is about to break his ‘no fun’ streak.”

  I wished for that too. “Negative.”

  “What?” he droned, and I could almost see his enthusiasm as it took a nosedive. “Why?”

  I tossed my head back on the seat, inspecting the ceiling of the truck. “She’s my psychiatrist with a switch for professional conduct that she never turns off.”

  “Damn,” Andre lamented. “That’s a great and equally bad thing for you.”

  “Right. I can’t help but think our wonderful beginnings on a dark street during Martin’s murder had a lot to do with that switch being permanently on.” Somehow, I’d get used to that even if it killed me. It probably would.

  “Wait, Tobin. Your dream girl and psychiatrist are one and the same? The one you and Shane were going to kill if she snitched? How the hell did that happen?”

  “Yep, one and the same. He’s the one that would’ve killed her by the way, which I was not going to let go down. My fucked up luck from birth is still fucked up. That’s how I think the whole dream girl/unattainable doctor therefore non-dating thing happened. And now, someone is after her, and she won’t tell me who.”

  I let my gaze wander to the glass windows of Cherise’s waiting room. They were darker than the ones in her office, harder to see through. Another great and equally bad thing when she was talking with her receptionist about something. It registered with me that dead silence had invaded the line. Andre should’ve said something by now. Maybe the call had dropped somewhere along my explanation.

  “Andre?”

  An explosion of movement detonated on his end, so he was still there. “I was just being politely quiet while waiting for you to finish explaining.”

  I thought I had. “I was finished, Andre.”

  “No, you wasn’t. You didn’t explain the ‘someone was after her’ part.”

  “That’s the part I can’t explain, and I specifically said she won’t tell me who’s after her, which automatically means I don’t know the reason why. Nothing to explain.”

  “But, you haven’t just been sitting on your ass doing nothing about it. That, I know.”

  I had to chuckle at his know-it-all attitude. “You know me well. I’ve been watching her back all week for her. Pretty much stalking her for her own good. I hope she’ll see it that way if she ever finds out about it.” With my luck, it was when she found out about it.

  “Need some help with stalking for her own good?” he offered.

  “Company would be cool. What you gonna do, go AWOL?” There was no way they’d let him go on leave if they wouldn’t even let me attend my brother’s funeral without a fight.

  He sneered, “A general or two owes me a favor. I’d have used it for you if you’d have given me the chance, oh destroyer of furniture and career.”

  “I’d have destroyed the Sergeant Major if you hadn’t intervened. You didn’t tell me that I had the option of benefitting from your favor with the ones in charge either, so I took my own path. It worked. I’m here, aren’t I?” And about to embark on a new career if there was a God in heaven. God knew I could always use all the help I could get.

  “One, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you about favors owed to me, Tobin. Two, let me go work my magic on the ones who owe me, and I’ll call you back with the results. I already know I’ll be seeing you soon. Three, I’m coming ready to kick some ass. Nobody fucks with my boy’s girl that’s not really his girl.” He was so damn sure of himself.

  “Fine. I got five minutes left before I have to go get in my feelings on purpose anyway.” I swiveled my head toward the half-assembled gun and my shirt on the other seat. “And I need to put a few things together. Be waiting on your call.”

  “Later, Graham.”

  “Later, Underwood.”

  I reached for the parts of the gun laying on top of the cooler. The magazine of the Glock glided into place with a click. I slid the gun into my neoprene underarm gun holster. Some might say it was a bit much. I rather have the weapon and not need it than need it and not have it. Grabbing the white dress shirt lying on the passenger seat, I slung it on, buttoning it to conceal the gun.

  The truck door opened noiselessly for me, and I jumped down to the concrete. Rotating at the waist, I surveyed the busy street several yards away behind me. Tucking my dress shirt in khaki slacks, I secretly loathed my outfit. It was somewhat restricting. Marines were more of a comfortable t-shirt, loose cargo pants, and stealthy combat boots kind of guys. Still, if I thought putting on a two-piece suit would tempt Cherise into dating me, I'd wear that too.

>   Us dating would likely never happen. Fortunately, I had resigned myself to that fate years ago. Cherise was so far out of my league we existed in two different zones in the same state. Come hell or high water, I’d keep her safe in hers. In my peripheral, a white Dodge Ram truck eased its way down the street in the slow lane. Easing was way too slow for this road, and highly suspect when the traffic light was green. Anything that suspicious had to be checked out thoroughly since Cherise was being targeted by someone.

  I became hyper-aware of the truck standing out like a sore thumb when no one else was easing down the road. Doing the speed limit anywhere in New York got you the middle finger, the vicious honk of a horn, and possibly a citation for disrupting the flow of traffic. As predicted, the Dodge received several bird salutes combined with horn toots as other cars rocketed around it. Whoever was driving the truck didn't care about the rude gestures. It continued moving well below the limit as if the driver was searching for a specific place, thing, or person.

  This wasn't the street to be lost or meandering on. In the heart of town, traffic moved swiftly even when light. At this time of day, it was anything but light. Cars were bumper to bumper. Everyone else was driving like they were on a racetrack. This guy was in no hurry, out of place, and deserved my total concentration. He had it.

  Shutting my door to lock it with the key fob, I jogged toward the road as he moseyed down it. The other motorists were following him too closely for me to get a read on the truck's rear license plate number. A good look at the driver wasn't achievable through the truck’s blacked-out windows. I didn't sweat losing out on getting the important details. Everything about that truck was stored in my memory bank now. If there was something here he thought belonged to him, he'd be back. I'd be here too.