Badass: Deadly Target (Complete): Military Romantic Suspense (25 page)

I nod, unsure what to do. The relief of having help, of having someone take the responsibility away is so great, I feel as if I will melt into a puddle the moment I try to stand.

“Are you a nurse?”

”Nursing student. Senior year. I didn’t know what else to do.”

A fist slams into the window next to us, causing me to jump again. “Clear,” another fireman yells and the one next to me pulls open a metal-colored blanket I hadn’t noticed he’d tossed in.

“You did an excellent job, but you need to get out of here.” He’s talking to me while covering the couple with the blanket. “You’ve been in the smoke too long, let one of the guys check you out.”

When I hesitate, he says, “No one could have done better.” His eyes, a most beautiful chocolate brown, hold a mixture of kindness and urgency. “Now go.”

Climbing across the seats for the last time, I hear glass crash and look back to see him knocking out the window beside him. Paramedics rush up, passing oxygen masks to him, which he quickly places on the man and woman’s faces.

Outside the van, in the burning heat of the day, a rumble of thunder penetrates the cacophony of noise. Turning, I see black clouds drawing closer and a streak of lightning pierce the sky.

A paramedic rushes to me, slinging a blanket around my already heated shoulders. I want to fling it off, but instead hold it closer, pulling it to me for needed security.

Like a scene in the movies, I watch the door being popped open and the front of the van cut off. The bench seats in the van are pulled out too, giving the paramedics room to work. I watch the driver being removed, his leg at a mercilessly awkward angle. And the couple… the sweet couple I’d taken care of… are finally lifted out, rushed to an ambulance and driven out of sight.

The rain begins to fall, fat drops beating onto me from the heavens, but I still can’t leave. It’s the fireman, the one with the kind chocolate eyes who pulls me from my trance. I’m watching the bodies of the dead couple being removed when he steps in front of me, blocking the view. I close my eyes when they finally extricate the man from the sports car. At least I think he was a man.

“You okay? Did the guys check you out?” I nod, but can’t speak. The fireman places a hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze.

“Can someone come get you? Give me a number and I’ll call.”

I shake my head and my mouth decides to work. “It’s okay. I have my car.” I nod toward my little Mazda, the driver door and trunk still open wide. The fireman stays at my side as I begin to walk toward it.

“You saved lives today,” he says. “You’ll make a wonderful nurse. The profession is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, just as a torrent of water falls so hard the raindrops bounce knee high off the pavement. He helps me into my car, closes the door and slams down my trunk.

Watching him run back to the wreckage, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I flip the policeman’s card, the one who had taken my witness statement, onto my dash.

I can’t believe all of this just happened. One moment I’m driving home, worried about passing a stupid exam. The next, I’m watching life fade away. It sure does put life in perspective.

With trembling fingers, I start my car and navigate my way around the metal carnage.

Chapter 2—Stephanie

“But…”

“No buts Stephanie,” my manager interrupts me. “We need you tomorrow. I’m already a cashier short. I’m sorry, honey. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, how terrible it was to be part of an accident like that. If there was any way I could let you off, I would. We’ll need all hands on deck for the Fourth of July crowd and all.

After assuring Diane I’d be there, I sink further into the tub. Everything hurts, most especially my back. Now that my adrenaline rush is over, all I feel is weak and beat up from helping out. Bruises on my arms and thighs are already showing and the pain in my torn fingernails pulse with each heartbeat. I don’t even remember them ripping. I don’t remember hitting things hard enough to bruise. But the evidence is here, in literal black and white. Karma should be nicer to good Samaritans.

Ding Dong.

Really? The very sound of my doorbell fills me with despair. I can’t handle another thing today. Not one. Maybe they’ll go away.

Ding Dong.

I still don’t move and then nearly curse when my phone begins to ring. There’s no increase in excitement when I see it’s my boyfriend, Jerome.

“Hi there,” I answer.

“Hey babe, where are you? I’m at your front door and your car is in the lot.”

“In the tub, didn’t know you were planning on coming over. I’ve had a hellish day and need to relax and then study.”

There was a long pause, then, “Are you saying I have to go? Is that it? Come on, babe. Open up. I can help you relax. Plus, I’ve got big news.”

I sigh. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right there.” I heave myself from the tub, towel off and slip into my robe. I keep waiting for excitement, for longing, for something to wash over me at the thought of being in Jerome’s arms. Nothing. Nothing but dread. I sigh again. That isn’t fair. It’s not his fault I’m dead on my feet.

“Hey babe.” The moment I open the door I’m glad I didn’t turn him away. It’s impossible not to smile back when Jerome looks at me like that. He can be such a charmer, so irresistible sometimes. The broad grin he’s giving me now is why I fell in love with him to begin with.

“Come on in.” Accepting his kiss, I’m suddenly glad he’s here, glad to not be alone.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, touching my face, pushing back my wet hair. His gentleness undoes me and I break down in his arms.

“Shhhh,” he soothes. “It’ll all be okay. I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”

Long minutes pass as I sob out my grief, three people dead—the sweet old couple. The other couple could be too for all I know. Life isn’t fair. It’s snuffed out too quickly. I think back to my dad, his automobile accident, the respirators, the months of therapy. He never walked again, hardly ever spoke, was in constant pain from the spinal cord injury. Then, he was gone, choosing death over his nightmare of pain. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving the bottle of pain medication so close to his bed.

“Are you done yet?” Jerome asks and breaks me from desolation. I’m not, but nod anyway. Sitting up, I blow my nose, feeling feverish and cold at the same time. I glance at the clock. It’s nine-fifteen in the evening and I’ve not studied for my exam tomorrow.

“Yes, I’m done. Thank you for being a shoulder.”

“Yeah, well. My shoulder is available anytime. But that’s not why I came by. I wanted to share some exciting news I received today…”

And he was off, regaling me about his business, the new alliance, the contract he signed late this afternoon. While I was pulling people out of a smoking van, he was, “Signing myself into the lap of luxury. Three million, Stephanie. ComNet is giving me three million for my technology, can you believe it? Plus, the merger guarantees me a position within the company for ten years, and a six figure salary.
Mid
six figures, babe.”

I’m thrilled for him, knowing first-hand how hard he’s worked on patenting the tech software he began working on, even before I met him three years ago. The software had something to do with how cell phones and computers worked, how they connect and upload to the cloud. Although he’d tried to explain the complexities of the technology many times, I’d thrown my hands up, everything going over my head.

We met at UNLV, while he was a senior and I, a freshman. It was during Christmas break and I was living in student housing at the time. I had no home to go to for the holidays, so I was one of the few still on campus. Although we were in different fields—he in engineering and computer science; me getting my bachelor of science in nursing—we were both in the rec center the day after the New Year.

He was a loner, the solitary book worm who always looked like he was brooding. Handsome and remote, he appealed to a lot of the girls on campus, who wanted to be the one to draw him out of his shell. Instead, he drew me out of mine.

I loved how attentive he had been at first, doting and concerned. I’d been a virgin and he’d been my first. With hearts in my eyes, I thought he would be my forever only. Sex with him had been exciting, always something new. I’d been a willing student, enthusiastic in trying something different and unique.

We were both without family, so we clung to each other. He became my everything. Life with him had been bliss for the first two years, but lately… something was off.

He had become self-important, self-consumed, making everything be about him. And he is so smart, logically and emotionally smart that I was never able to win when we argued. I’d stopped arguing and just agreed with everything he said, from deciding what we ate to what I should wear. It was just easier that way, allowing him to rule me. Often, I learned, his reasoning was right.

The only argument I had won so far was about me continuing to live in my own space. He wanted me to move in with him, he said I could quit work and focus on school. He would take care of me, protect me, shelter me. I refused, needing the sliver of independence my own place provided.

I was there on an ‘orphan scholarship,’ as I call it, although my straight A’s had brought in substantial scholarships too. It was enough to pay for my classes, books and a little extra, so I only needed to work at SaveAll four mornings per week to get by.

“Are you even listening to me?” The question broke my reverie and I mentally shook myself, forcing myself to focus.

“Of course I am. I was just thinking about when we met in the rec hall, how you’d asked me to join you for lunch and you talked about a breakthrough that would change the communication world as we knew it. Now look at you. You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

This appeases him and he pulls me close again, his hand slipping inside my robe to cup my breast. My hair was nearly dry by now; a glance at the clock told me it was nearly ten. My chance at being able to study was slipping away. I had to score well on the exam. My grade in that class was perilously close to a C. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

As he fondles me, it is so tempting to sink into his seduction, so tempting to allow his hands and mouth to distract me from real life. He is so good at this, so good at prolonging the pleasure. We usually make love for hours at a time. Well, ‘make love’ was a stretch. Sometimes, what we did together looked nothing close to resembling love.

“I want to celebrate,” he whispers into my hair, as his fingers twist my nipple, causing me to cry out. He was in the mood for rough and I’d had all the rough I could handle today. When he twists my nipple again, I pull away.

“Can we celebrate this weekend? After I’ve healed a little and have more time.” I hold my breath, knowing this could go two ways. Watching his jaw tighten, his eyes narrow and nose flare, I know it won’t go the way I’d hoped.

“My new news won’t be new this weekend. Are you really so selfish?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just that… I’m so sore.” Confusion crosses his face and I remember I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the wreck today. I fill him in, keeping it brief, stopping when I notice his eyes cloud over in boredom.

“That’s why you were such a wreck when I came over? You’ve gotta get over that, babe, or you’ll never make it as a nurse.”

“But…”

“No buts. Besides, they were old, they’d lived their lives and the wreck probably did them a favor. You should have let the other ones die. Now they’ll be burdens on the working class. Our taxes will have to pay for their long term care.”

Too stunned to speak, my mouth tries to form words. Finally, I am able to get out another, “But…”

“You probably interfered with fate today, you know that? Fate needed those old farts dead and you saved, what, five or six?”

I know he has a cruel streak. I know he cares about little outside himself. But, I’d chalked it up to his childhood, six foster homes before turning eighteen. He had little control over what went on around him. So the center of his universe, the only thing he could control, was himself.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he went on. “You’re a soft touch. Still think you can save the world. I don’t blame you for trying. Besides, I like how soft you are.” His hand moves down my stomach and between my legs. In seconds, he has two fingers inside me.

I moan, not from pleasure, but because I’m not ready and his fingers hurt going in. “That’s right babe, let me take your mind off everything.” His mouth closes over mine, hard and punishing, his tongue plunging and demanding. He pushes me down onto the couch and climbs up my body, stretching on top of me, his weight pinning me down.

“Ouch,” I cry out as his knee found a particularly hateful bruise on my thigh. I cry out again as he presses into it again.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asks, now looking concerned. Jekyll and Hyde—I never know which side of him would turn up.

“Bruise. Bad ones on my legs.” He sits up and undoes my robe, sucking in his breath as he sees the black that is getting darker by the hour. He put a finger on the darkest one and presses. Stars cross my vision.