Текст книги "Collateral Damage"

Автор книги: Kaylea Cross

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

“So what now?” Smithers asked her as they sat in the hospital waiting room. Ipman was currently getting a cast on his hand and they didn’t know how long it would take.

“We take him home to cool off and lie low for a few days,” Honor answered. It’s not like Ipman could return to work with a busted hand anyway.

They’d been damn lucky the judge had agreed to release him on bail in the first place, which she’d paid in an effort to keep things quiet and avoid more people getting involved. Ipman had promised to pay her back the money as soon as possible and while Honor had had initial doubts about springing him from jail, in the end she’d decided it was the right thing to do. There was no way she could not tell command about this, though they’d likely find out anyway, since the local police had good communication with the MPs.

She blew out a breath and leaned her head back against the wall. “Never seen him like that before.” Moody sometimes, sure, but never outright belligerent or hostile. He wasn’t a nice drunk. He’d been mouthing off to the jailers when they’d arrived and it had taken her and Smithers the better part of ten minutes to get him to calm down initially.

“Me neither. Thank God he had the sense to punch the wall and not his wife.”

Honor nodded. And thankfully both the kids had been upstairs napping at the time of the fight. “How bad’s the drinking problem now?” She knew Ipman had a tendency to hit the bottle when things weren’t going well, but overseas that hadn’t been an option for him. Since coming stateside, he’d taken a flying leap off the sobriety wagon.

“He’d go on the occasional bender back before the deployment, but since we’ve been home, nearly every day, especially after work. And then there’ve been the few times he showed up half-tanked,” he added.

Twice Honor had seen him coming back from a mandatory coffee break Smithers had sent him on to sober up. She hadn’t suspected anything was up until she’d gotten close enough to smell the alcohol wafting from his pores. “He’s gotta get help. Command’s going to insist on it if he wants to stay in.” Otherwise he could be looking at a dishonorable discharge.

The big man nodded, a serious frown creasing his brow. “I’ll take him home, get rid of his stash and stay with him tonight. In the morning I’ll make sure he gets in to see a therapist someplace off base.”

Honor clapped a hand on the man’s sturdy shoulder. “You’re a gem, Smithy.”

He ducked his head and grinned, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin. “Aw, come on,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the praise.

“It’s the truth.”

They waited another hour until Ipman finally walked out into the waiting area. His short hair was still sticking up all over the place and he had a blue cast from mid-forearm to fingertips on his right hand. The combative, aggressive posture and expression were gone, replaced by slouched shoulders and a sullen look.

When he turned his dark gaze on Honor, however, the bitterness she read there sent a warning tingle up her spine. He clearly knew she would have to report this to command and blamed her for causing him more trouble. Trouble he’d gotten himself into all on his own.

Ignoring that look, she stood. “You done here?” Yeah, she so wasn’t giving him any sympathy. He’d been stupid, plain and simple and he knew it.

He gave a terse nod and glanced away from her. “Just get me home.”

Not exactly the kind of attitude she was looking for, especially after the way she and Smithers had gone out of their way to help him. “Smithers is going to drive you back, but we’ve got a few things to set straight first.”

At that Ipman faced her fully and hit her with a glare so hostile that Smithers made an irritated sound and stepped in front of her. “You cut that shit right now, soldier,” he warned. “Ms. Girard just bailed your drunk ass out of jail, in case you forgot.”

Ipman’s gaze shifted to his sergeant. “And now she’s gonna report me.”

“You gave her no choice and the cops are gonna report you anyway,” Smithers said in disgust. “You’d best think about that, and how you’re gonna fix the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Because tomorrow reality’s gonna hit you right between the eyes and I’m gonna be there to drive it home, even if it’s with the toe of my boot up your ass.”

It was a good speech and Honor appreciated the show of concern but she didn’t need Smithers to protect her, least of all from Ipman. “There’ll be a meeting in the morning,” she said to Ipman now, asserting her authority and letting him know his anger didn’t faze her one iota. “Sarn’t Smithers is staying with you tonight—”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he snapped.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you need,” she fired back, “because you’ve just proven you’re incapable of handling yourself responsibly.”

His gaze was so cold it burned and again she was startled by the hostility radiating from him. He didn’t even seem like the same man she’d had lunch with at Bagram a few short weeks ago. Yeah he could be somewhat unpredictable in his moods, but before now she never would have said he was dangerous to anyone. Apparently she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s like to go through something like this,” he muttered, switching back to sullen again. His quicksilver shifts reminded her of Charity. Honor would make sure a psych eval was recommended.

Honor held his gaze, refusing to look away. She knew a helluva lot more about family conflict and nursing a broken heart than he realized, so she didn’t bother responding to his woe-is-me comment. He was being a prick anyway and was bound to become an even bigger one if she engaged.

“This is on you, Ipman. Bottom line, you need to decide what you want out of life going forward. You want to be chaptered out with a dishonorable discharge, maybe lose your chance at partial custody of your girls? Because that’s where you’re headed. Better do some deep thinking about that over the next few hours.” She didn’t bother trying to blunt her words. He didn’t deserve her kindness right now and he needed to understand that she wouldn’t be intimidated or spoken to with that kind of disrespect, out of uniform or not.

He looked away, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “I wanna go home.”

Honor stared at him for another long moment, just to prove the point that she wouldn’t be cowed, then turned her attention to Smithers. The man was a freaking saint. She was lucky to have him as a senior NCO. “Go ahead. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

Outside in the fading afternoon sunlight she stopped to expel a long breath and let the warm breeze wash over her. She was halfway to her car across the parking lot when her cell vibrated in her pocket briefly, signaling an incoming text. Fishing it out, her heart did a crazy cartwheel against her ribs when she saw the familiar number displayed.

You there?

At first she thought she must be hallucinating. But nope, the same message was still there when she unlocked the screen.

“I’m here, but there’s no way I’m answering,” she muttered to herself as she used the keyfob to remotely unlock her door. Her phone buzzed again moments later.

I’m in town for a bit. Can we talk?

A cool breeze picked up, blowing some hair across her face but she didn’t move, still staring at her phone. Liam was back? If he wanted to talk so bad, why hadn’t he at least warned her he was coming back? Even if it was a last minute thing, he’d have known for a couple days at least.

For a second she debated ignoring the new message, then dismissed the idea. She didn’t play games but this was about self-preservation and he needed to know where he stood with her. Which was at the bottom of a shit pile. They weren’t in a relationship anymore, so she owed him nothing. He thought he could roll back into town after weeks of silence and expect her to be willing to talk? Nuh-uh.

Not interested, she texted back, not bothering with niceties. Since her lunch had been so rudely interrupted, her afternoon had gone to hell and this wasn’t helping. And dammit, why was part of her even curious what he wanted this time? What the hell was it gonna take to make her stop being a glutton for punishment?

Her phone rang with an incoming call a second later.

A surge of satisfaction hit her. “Getting frustrated, Liam?” Too bad.

On the second ring Honor set her jaw and silenced the call, unwilling to answer because she had nothing nice to say and dreaded the sound of his voice. Plus she was sick to death of the drama, the ups and downs they’d put each other through. Enough already.

Don’t feel like talking to you, she responded by text instead, punching the keys with more force than necessary.

Really need to talk to you, he insisted.

Her lips thinned. There’s nothing left for either of us to say. He’d made his feelings clear when he’d walked out of her hut that night. Message received. She wasn’t going to let him keep screwing with her head.

Her phone was silent for a long moment. Then, Please?

She huffed out a breath. He thought it was that damn easy? NO.

I’m not giving up until you talk to me.

Honor scowled at the screen. He thought he could bully her into talking? She typed in her response. Good luck with that.

Can I come see you then?

Her eyes bugged out. The balls. The sheer balls of the man. Outraged swamped her. He wanted to see her as in, see her alone? Because that had gone so well for her last time. His lame-ass apology in his first e-mail to her didn’t make up for his actions.

Yeah, she could imagine how he envisioned that scenario playing out. He thought he could waltz back into her life for another booty call while he was in town, because she couldn’t resist him? Her answer was immediate and heartfelt.

NO, she typed. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath. She was through letting him fuck with her, literally and figuratively.

Just to talk, he sent back quickly.

Yeah, right. They couldn’t be in the same room without sparks flying between them, and he knew it.

Not interested. Enjoy the rest of your visit. Bye.

With that she silenced her phone and shoved it back into her jeans pocket. She didn’t care if he blew up her phone with a thousand texts and voicemails for the rest of the night; she was done.

Even though she meant it, a heavy ache settled beneath her sternum. Scowling, she climbed behind the wheel and turned up the radio to try and drown out her thoughts as she drove home. Except the freaking radio was against her today too, apparently, because every station she turned to kept playing songs that reminded her of Liam.

Punching the off button, she finished the rest of the drive in silence and forced herself to soak in the simple pleasures around her. It was a beautiful, clear evening in the Pacific Northwest and anyone who lived here knew it wouldn’t last so she should be savoring it.

As she drove she reminded herself of all the good things in her life. She had her health, a career she loved despite occasional shitty incidents like the one she’d just experienced with Ipman, and good friends who cared about her. Sure she was still trying to heal from the damage her family and the breakup with Liam had inflicted, but she was strong and she’d gotten through it once, so she could do it again.

Already feeling better, she pulled into her driveway and hit the brakes so hard the car rocked when she saw the flowers sitting on her front stoop. Swallowing, she got out of the car and walked up the front walkway. Wrapped in a layer of clear cellophane, the artfully arranged bouquet of pale pink roses were studded with baby’s breath and greenery. They were her favorites.

Reaching down, her fingers were slightly unsteady as she pulled the card free and opened the tiny envelope. The sight of Liam’s strong scrawl on the card was yet another jab to her heart.

Miss you. Hope to see you soon. L

The back of her throat began to sting. He’d missed her? What the hell? Did he mean since that night at Bagram, or in general since the breakup? Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to decipher the meaning of the words. It could be a simple apology or it could mean a lot more.

As soon as the thought entered her mind she wanted to slap herself. No. She would not drive herself insane trying to guess whatever his motive was. He’d had plenty of chances to get back together with her before. What made this time any different?

Expelling a deep breath, she lowered the card and turned around to scan the street. If he’d written the card personally he could have delivered the flowers himself. Maybe he’d texted her when he realized she wasn’t home. If so, he could still be nearby.

But she didn’t see his truck anywhere on her street, and though he wasn’t one to avoid conflict when it came to getting something he wanted, he’d obviously realized she’d been serious about not wanting to see or talk to him. He’d probably made a tactical retreat and was biding his time before initiating the next foray in whatever campaign he’d dreamed up.

She shook her head at his stubbornness, suddenly feeling exhausted. Bending to scoop up the flowers, Honor vowed to use whatever time remained to shore up her mental and emotional defenses against him. Because she knew sooner or later Liam would run out of patience and show up on her doorstep before he left town.

She’d best be prepared.

****

In the darkened family room just off the kitchen he lay sprawled on his leather couch, staring out the window overlooking the tiny, fenced-in backyard of his house on base. The booze he’d consumed had long since worn off and now he just felt like shit warmed over. Out in the carport his recycling bin was full of beer cans and bottles of Jack Daniels and he hadn’t bothered trying to hide them this time. He didn’t give a fuck what his neighbors thought.

In fact, he’d long since stopped giving a shit what anyone thought of him.

Tipping his head back on the arm of the sofa, he thought yet again about the pile of shit his life had become. Especially lately, since they’d come back home. Not that this empty shell of a house felt like a home at this point. His slut of a wife was moved out and no doubt currently banging her rich banker boyfriend she’d found while he was overseas.

He hated her and his career in the Army. Hated his job, the people he worked with and for, but especially Ms. Girard.

That sanctimonious bitch was the reason he was at risk of being axed in the first place. She’d probably fucked her way to her current position. It was the only explanation he could come up with as to why she kept getting promoted and he got left in the dust. It infuriated him that he had to be subordinate to a female, let alone one like her.

Girard thought she was fair, when in reality she was anything but, and she was an exacting bitch to boot. Nothing was ever good enough; nothing was ever done to her satisfaction. She always had some sort of criticism about his work. Didn’t matter that since her promotion to warrant officer she hadn’t micromanaged him as much as she used to, he knew she still checked up on him with the NCOs all the time and it drove him nuts.

His mouth twisted as he thought about how fake she was with everyone. She pretended to be one of them, pretended to care about them, but she was only in it for herself and he was sick to death of putting up with her bullshit, holier-than-thou attitude.

From day one she’d given him the worst shifts and the shittiest jobs, always passing him by when it came to recommending guys from their unit for a spot in an overseas military work exchange program that would allow him to escape his pitiful surroundings and let him stretch his wings a little. Instead of supporting him and helping nurture his career, she’d clipped his wings and grounded him.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that she was to blame for his current predicament. She’d driven him to this point in his life. She was the reason he now wrestled with his conscience on a daily basis for what he’d done. For what he’d involved himself in, and what he’d already agreed to do in a week’s time.

It was too late to get out now, he was locked in. Even if he admitted what he’d done and warned everyone, the men who’d paid him for the intel and expected him to go through with his part of the attack would eventually hunt him down and kill him. Though chances were he’d be in jail within hours of opening his mouth about the plot anyway, he couldn’t risk it.

There was no way to deny his involvement once he told them about the plot, especially once they started digging. The FBI and countless other intelligence agencies would be all over him. He’d spend the rest of his miserable life rotting in some maximum-security prison like a discarded animal.

His jaw clenched. That’s all he was to his wife and people like Girard in the Army: garbage, to be cleaned out and discarded.

Agitated all over again, he sat up quickly, pushed to his feet and began pacing the length of the room as the familiar swell of anger rose inside him.

No. No going back, only forward. The money they’d paid him was already long gone to cover previous gambling debts, and if he lived through the attacks and managed to get out of the country as he’d been promised, the remainder of what they owed him would allow him to start over elsewhere. He’d have a new life, one he wouldn’t screw up.

He refused to feel guilty for what was coming or the collateral damage it would cause. He wanted to punish the Army. He wanted to punish Honor Girard, too, make her suffer for what she’d done to him.

The plan he’d been toying with over the past several weeks began to take shape in his mind again. Once the attack was underway everyone would be caught up in the chaos, they’d be too preoccupied with their own safety to worry about anyone else.

He would find out Girard’s schedule that day and make sure he was there waiting when the attack went down. That bitch was going to pay for everything she’d done to him—with her life.

Chapter Sixteen

Honor left work two days later with a killer headache and a seriously bad mood. On top of dealing with one hassle after another all day, the parts they’d been waiting on for more than a week for a high priority job had finally arrived—missing half of what she’d ordered. The repair was already ten days past the expected completion date; now it would be at least ten days more before they could finish up.

Add in that she’d been scrambling to shunt soldiers over to Smithers’s crew since Ipman was out of action with his busted hand and on a short mandatory leave while his legal situation was being looked into. Andrews had called in sick, and with all that going on, little wonder it felt like her head was in imminent danger of exploding.

On the plus side, at least she’d been saved from dealing with any more drama from either of her two troubled soldiers today. Liam had called and texted again as he had every day since arriving back, but she hadn’t answered.

As always the traffic was heavy on the I-5 as she headed north away from base. With the A/C blowing across her face she rubbed a hand over the back of her neck and rolled her head from side to side in an effort to ease the tension in her neck and shoulder muscles. She needed some aspirin, a hot bath to soak in, and her bed. In that order.

But when she arrived home and pulled around to her parking spot, the sight of Liam’s truck out front made her heart stutter in her chest. Simultaneous jolts of dread and elation shot through her, increasing the relentless pounding at the base of her skull and pushing the headache to the razor-thin edge between severe pain and migraine.

Shit. Why tonight of all nights, she thought with a mental groan.

On some level she’d known this was coming, but while she wasn’t exactly surprised to see him here, she wasn’t fully prepared, either. For the past five days he’d sent random texts throughout the day and tried calling several times, though she’d never called him back.

In the messages he told her he missed her, apologized again and stirred up old memories when he mentioned things they’d done back when they were together. Happy or funny things that pulled a grudging smile or even a chuckle out of her.

Liam wasn’t the most romantic guy in the world, not even when they’d been together, but he’d sure been trying hard this week. Since leaving the flowers on her doorstep he’d also sent treats like a chocolate-covered fruit bouquet, a certificate to her favorite nail place for a pedicure and an online gift card to feed her reading addiction. She recognized the effort he was putting into wooing her into talking to him, and dammit, yeah, a small part of her was hopeful that he realized what an ass he’d been and that he really did want to get back together.

Her logical side wanted to bitch slap that romantic part of her into unconsciousness.

The nail thing made her suspicious too. They hadn’t been together for a long time so there was no way he could know where her favorite place was. He had to be getting help. Her money was on Devon.

The wooing period hadn’t lasted long. As she’d suspected, he’d finally run out of patience and was here to talk in person, putting action to words about wanting to talk. She still wasn’t ready to let him past her defensive shields though.

She parked her car beside his truck and spotted him standing on the front step of her townhouse. Wearing dark jeans with his arms folded across the front of his light blue button-down, he met her gaze and gave a little smile of greeting that made her stomach flip.

God, she just wasn’t up to this right now.

Honor sighed. Much as she didn’t feel like doing this tonight, she had no choice. He wasn’t going to give up until she made him, and avoiding this would only put it off until later. They might as well talk tonight and get it over with. Didn’t matter if he wanted to get back together; she couldn’t risk it.

So resigned, she headed up the front walkway. The cement radiated heat up at her from the sunshine it had absorbed, but she was more aware of those intense green eyes on her every step of the way.

Liam pushed away from the wall as she approached, his sheer physical presence making the front stoop seem way smaller than it actually was. As always, he looked good enough to eat, and that wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking right now.

“Hey,” he said, his gaze running over her and coming to rest on her face.

“Hi.” She stopped five feet from him, steeled herself. “Guess you didn’t like taking no for an answer, huh?”

The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “Night Stalkers never quit,” he murmured, reciting their regiment’s motto.

You quit on us, she thought bitterly, but held the words back because she knew they were hypocritical. She’d quit on them first, after all.

Stepping past him, trying and failing not to notice his clean, spicy scent, she put the key in the lock, her whole body buzzing at his nearness. “Come on in.” She couldn’t muster any enthusiasm in her response though.

Wordlessly he followed her inside and stood by the door while she disarmed the security system. She didn’t bother trying to conceal the code when she punched it in because she hadn’t changed it since they’d been together.

After setting her bag down on the tiled entry floor she headed to the kitchen with him right behind her. He sat at a barstool at her small kitchen island while she went for the cupboard where she kept her medical supplies.

“Bad headache?” Liam asked.

“Killer,” she answered, pushing up on tiptoe to reach the bottle she needed. “So how long are you in town for?”

“Few weeks if all goes well. Maybe longer. It was a last minute decision to send us back for a joint training exercise, that’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

So he’d likely be back overseas within a month. “Ah.” Taking two extra strength tablets out, she filled a glass with water from the tap and used the time it took to swallow them and drain the glass to clear her head and brace for what was coming.

Turning back to face him, she barely smothered a gasp and reared back to find him just steps away from her rather than over at the island. No, no, no, she couldn’t stand for him to touch her. God, she hadn’t even heard him move.

At the way she recoiled Liam stopped dead, hurt flickering in his eyes for a moment before he masked it. Studying her with that piercing gaze of his, he finally slid his hands into his front jeans pockets and nodded toward the stairs. “Go on up and take a bath.”

Her heart beat an erratic rhythm. “I’ll be fine when the meds kick in.”

“Which could take up to half an hour, and I can tell how bad this one is because your eyes are all glassy. Go. This can wait. But I’m staying until you feel better.”

Part of her wanted to argue that she could take care of herself, but she was in too much pain to bother wasting her breath. She knew he’d stay no matter what she said, to make sure she was okay. “’Kay,” she relented, glad for the reprieve. “I’ll be down in a while.”

He held her gaze. “Take your time.”

Temporary stay of execution granted. Head pounding, she walked past him and fled up the stairs without a backward glance.

****

Sprawled out on Honor’s living room couch, Liam tried to focus on the show he’d flipped to on the TV and couldn’t. He was too aware that she was upstairs naked in her master suite tub right now. So close but thousands of miles away from him emotionally. He could feel her detachment and it scared him.

From the outset he’d known this wouldn’t be easy. He’d hurt her again and again and now the tables had turned once more: him wanting to reconcile and her wanting to keep her distance. Full fucking circle in the giant mess he’d made. There was a certain bitter irony to it that even he couldn’t miss.

The e-mails he’d sent her hadn’t been the greatest way to open up communications, and yeah, the apology he’d written probably didn’t hold much weight, but he’d needed to start somewhere. She hadn’t responded—not exactly a surprise—and he’d been sent on mission after mission so he’d waited until they touched down on U.S. soil before sending her the text that he was back. Her chilly reception to that news had gone pretty much as he’d expected, so he’d commenced phase two in his plan to win her back.

After a week of going the traditional courting route and still getting nowhere, he’d enacted the next phase: coming over to talk to her face to face. While he hadn’t expected her to be overjoyed to see him standing on her doorstep, her almost resigned expression when she’d noticed him had dimmed the hope he’d been nursing over the past few weeks.

Seeing how much pain she was in had changed things though. Honor tended to get headaches whenever she was stressed and he felt bad about adding more of it. The fact that she’d taken medication for it told him it was a really bad one, even before he’d seen her eyes up close.

He’d wanted to help her. But when he’d gotten up with the intention of going over to rub the muscles at the back of her neck, which usually helped when she got a headache this bad, her almost frightened reaction to his approach had been like a kick to the gut. He knew he’d hurt her, but her clear distress of having him close had cut him deeply.

Soft footfalls on the carpeted stairs drew his attention. Honor came into view wearing sweatpants and a long sleep shirt. The casual clothes did nothing to hide the sexy shape of her body and even without a drop of makeup on she was still beautiful to him. There was a tiny frown between her eyebrows and her mouth was tight.

“Still there?” he asked, staying where he was this time.

She nodded. “Yeah. Better though.” She crossed to the edge of the family room and paused there, wrapping her arms around herself, her expression neutral.

He wanted to get past the wall she’d erected in the worst way. He was the reason she’d put it up in the first place. Hell, he’d practically slapped mortar between the bricks. “Come lie down,” he said, gesturing to the couch as he rose and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Giving her space, but not too much of it.

Still watching him warily, she crossed to the couch and sank down on it with a sigh.

“How’s your shoulder doing these days?” he asked, wanting to ease the fine lines of pain and fatigue on her face. His fingers itched to touch her, stroke across the softness of her cheek.

“All healed up.” She shifted, tried to cover a wince.

“Been getting a lot of these lately?”

“A few. Lots of stuff going on at work.” Meeting his gaze, she let out a breath. “So let’s have it. What do you want to talk to me about?”

Like she didn’t know. “Us.”

She snorted softly. “There is no us. You made that perfectly clear at Bagram.”

He inclined his head, not about to argue because she was right. “I was looking for closure.”

“And what, you didn’t get it?”

“No.”

Her expression remained closed. “Sure seemed like you did to me.”

He shook his head. “I’ll admit I gave it my best shot, but it didn’t work.”

She studied him for a long moment, still not giving anything away. It made him twitchy. “So what, you’ve suddenly decided you want me back again?” Her voice dripped with derision.

“Not suddenly, no. Starting after the base attack I’ve been thinking about us a lot, what you said about you and your family. Then we got together that night and I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since.”

She arched a brow, her eyes cold. “The sex was just too good?”

He resisted the urge to drag a hand through his hair. “No. I mean, yeah, of course it was good, but that’s not—”

“Because that’s not happening again.”

He held up a hand in self-defense. God, he was fucking this whole thing up. “I didn’t expect it to, and that’s not why I’m here.”

She shifted, kept staring at him with that eerily blank expression. He hated that she’d shut herself off from him so completely, but he understood why she was doing it.

Liam blew out a breath. “Look, I went to see one of our wounded at the hospital the morning you left.” He swallowed, thinking of Blinksi. “It was bad.”