LEIF (Blake Security Book 3) (4 page)

PRESENT DAY

KARLI

              Leif and I stared at each other while everyone else at the table stared at us. Finally my stepfather said, “Do you two know each other?”

“Yes,” Leif said.

At the exact same time, I said, “No.”

The truth was that I didn’t really know him. He’d lied to me so much. My best friend and Mack were the only two people I ever told about him. As far as my parents were concerned, Hunter was the product of an affair with a soldier who was killed in Iraq—and that’s the truth. This Leif was inconsequential.

Blake Donavan stood up then. He was kind of a big, scary guy. He gave Leif a hard look and then said, “This is my associate, Leif Thompson. He’s the man I’m going to leave to guard you.”

“Oh no! No way.” I stood up and held my arms out to my son. He was on my mother’s lap and he didn’t budge.

Instead he made a pouty face and said, “You said we are staying the night with grandma.”

“We have to go baby.” Mr. Donovan gave Leif another look. Leif hadn’t said a word so far.

“Miss Baker, that’s not a good idea. It might not be safe. Whatever is going on here, I’m sure we can work it out.”

“I’m not staying in the same house as him.”

“Karli, what’s going on?” my mother asked. She looked worried. I looked at Frank, my stepfather, and he had the same worried look in his eyes. They’d both had more than their fair share to worry about lately. I suddenly felt bad.

Before I could say anything, Blake said, “Will you excuse us for just a moment?” My parents were confused. They both just nodded, and then looked at me for an explanation. I wasn’t sure what to say, so once Blake and Leif were gone I told them Leif and I had gone out once or twice and it just hadn’t worked out. They had a lot of questions since I’d been so adamant about not wanting him here. I was overwhelmed…and my thoughts went back to four years ago. It was two weeks after we had dinner, and he showed up on my doorstep.

***

NEW ORLEANS

2012

“Hunter, you little heathen, hold still!” I was chasing my wiggly six month old around the floor, trying to get his pants on him. I changed his diaper in the nursery and made the mistake of putting him on the floor while I got his pants out of the laundry. He wasn’t even walking yet, and he hadn’t been crawling that long, but the little booger was quick. I caught up with him in the hallway, and he squealed as I scooped him up off the floor. I kissed his whole fat little face and squeezed him. He seemed to be the only constant in my life lately…the only thing that kept me sane. I started trying to wrestle his pants on when the doorbell rang. Still smiling at my baby, I went and pulled open the door. The smile was gone as soon as I saw who it was. With a sigh I said, “Leif, what are you doing here?”

He was standing on my doorstep with a file in his hands. He was wearing his camouflage fatigues and his beret. His face was completely smooth and clean-shaven. He looked about eighteen and vulnerable. He was going back over there to that miserable place where he could die at any given moment. But damn it…that’s not my problem, right? He’s not vulnerable. He’s a liar. I didn’t want anything to soften the anger I felt, but just looking at him and thinking about him being shipped over there to possibly die for people who might not even appreciate it, gave me a little pang in my chest. I wished that I could look at him and seethe with hate. Instead, all of the things he’d said in those letters flashed through my head…and a little part of me actually wanted him to be the real deal. But he wasn’t, and I had to keep telling myself that, especially as I stood there and looked into his haunted green eyes.

“I’m sorry to just show up. I’ve been trying to call and you just keep hanging up.”

His eyes left my face and landed on the baby in my arms. Hunter was cooing and reaching out for him. I forced a sarcastic tone, as I said, “A normal person would have gotten the hint.” It had been almost two weeks since that night at the restaurant. He called every day sometimes two and three times. I ignored them all, but when I thought about calling the police and reporting him, something inside of me said that this guy isn’t dangerous, only annoying and a little bit pathetic. 

“I don’t reckon that I’ve ever been accused of being normal.” His accent sounded thicker than it had before. I wondered if it was because he was nervous.

I sighed. His eyes looked so sad…and I couldn’t figure out why—for the life of me—I cared.  “What do you want, Leif?”

“I brought this for you. You might at least be able to get some benefits for the little man.” Hunter was still reaching for him. Leif tried to hand me the file, and my son grabbed one of his fingers. Leif smiled. I refused to care once again. I took the file and a step back so Hunter had to let go of his finger. 

“Is that it?”

He nodded. “I’m truly sorry for all of your pain.” Even after all of his lies, I believed he was sorry, but that didn’t excuse his behavior. I didn’t want to feel anything for him that resembled compassion.

“Leif…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t come back here—and I’m blocking your number as soon as you walk away from here.”

He nodded slightly and turned around and walked away. As I closed the door, I had to press my back into it because my legs were shaking. I looked down at the file in my hand. I couldn’t deal with that right now. I sat it down on the table in the entryway and got back to the business of taking care of my son. I hoped the image of those haunted eyes would leave me soon. 

******

It was late before I got Hunter to settle down for bedtime, and I finally had a minute for myself to breathe. I took a bath and tried not to think about the file that was still where I’d put it earlier. My mind kept going back to my real Leif. I’d spent a lot of time over the past two weeks trying to decide what I should do. I thought about asking Mack for help. Besides being a lawyer, he is retired from the military. I knew if anyone would be able and willing to help me find out if Leif was really dead, he would. I didn’t want to believe it was true. I had no reason to believe it. The man that told me he was dead had lied about everything else, why should I believe that was the truth. I held onto a fantasy where I tracked him down and we had a tearful reunion. The only frightening part was the face on the man’s face and the sound of his voice belonged to the man that was at my door earlier today. All of the sweet words in my head were his. I honestly didn’t remember the real Leif very well—and this one had caused things to be all jumbled up in my head. 

Once I finished my bath and made a cup of tea, I picked up my phone and saw that Sylvie had called. Sylvie and I have been best friends since high school. If I called her back, she’d know right away that something was wrong. I didn’t have the strength to get into it tonight. I hadn’t told her anything about the fake Leif. It was the first thing since we were teenagers that I’d withheld from her on purpose. I’d told her about the weekend with the real Leif when it happened…and I told her first when I found out I was pregnant, even before I told my mom. I guess I was afraid that once I told her that everything in those letters I’d read to her was a lie, then I’d have to accept it myself. A tiny little part of me had found a lot of differences in those sweet romantic words and the man that I remembered. The man I’d met in a bar that night was cocky and arrogant, and when he complimented me it was smooth and practiced. The guy that wrote the letters said sweet things, but mostly what he did that impressed me was that each time he wrote back to me he would address whatever I’d written to him about—be it a happy event, or something I was stressed or anxious about. Either he’d tell me not to worry and that it would be okay, or he’d offer to help. If he had any insights, he’d offer those, too. I felt like he was really listening to what I had to say, to things that I needed someone to listen to. The original Leif didn’t seem like the type that could come out of himself so easily, but I’d purposely ignored that. Now I have to wonder if somehow—all along—I’d known it wasn’t him.

With a heavy sigh, I took my teacup into the living room, sat it down on the table, and went and got the file. I sat down with it and took a sip of my tea before I opened it. The first thing I saw was a photo of my original Leif in his uniform. My breath caught in my throat. He was so handsome, and my heart swelled as I realized just how much Hunter looked like him. I traced the lines of his face in the photo with my fingers and the anger toward this Leif returned with a vengeance. I finally forced myself to turn the page. This one said, Demographics. He was twenty-nine years old, Caucasian, brown hair, blue eyes, six foot two, and two hundred and five pounds. I was picturing him in the flesh, so tall and handsome that I hadn’t been able to resist him, when my eyes read further down the page. Under Marital Status it said, “Married.” Under Spouse, it said, “Linda Thompson.”  It was as if a brick was being slammed into the side of my head over and over. The son of a bitch was married. I felt sick…but I made myself read the rest of it. He had three children, all boys. My baby has brothers. Jesus. Does everyone lie these days? Is it worth all of that to get a woman into bed? The next page was even worse than that one. It held a copy of a death certificate. He was officially listed as deceased. He died from “Internal Injuries” sustained when the vehicle he was driving ran over an IED. The truck exploded with Leif and two other men inside. They all died. 

The tears ran freely down my face as I wondered if he knew he was going to die. I wondered if there was any way he was looking down right now and knew he had one more son, way out in Louisiana. I searched the file for a phone number for his “wife.” An address was all there was. I put that in my phone and turned the page again. There was a copy of the official letter from the army notifying Leif’s family he was dead. I felt even sicker. I tossed the file toward the coffee table and missed. I didn’t care when it hit the floor, it could stay there. I sobbed until I finally fell asleep, and then I dreamt of the imposter Leif. Damn him!

NEW ORLEANS

PRESENT DAY

LEIF

              “What the hell just happened in there?” Blake had me inside, away from the family. His dark gray eyes were boring into me.

              “Do you remember the woman I came here to stalk?”

              He snorted. “You’re kidding? Please tell me you’re kidding? The daughter? Jesus, Leif! This is my most lucrative client at the moment. The mayoral staff specifically requested Ryder for their detail, Abrahem is visiting his parents in Philadelphia, and Tyler is deep undercover in that motorcycle gang on the runaway case. I need you on this, Leif! Damn it!”

              I waited for him to finish, and then I said, “I’m sorry Blake. I’m not sure what else to say.”

              “Can you do this job…professionally?”

              “I believe I can, yes.”

              He sighed. “Then I have to find a way to convince them of that because I can’t do it alone. The judge is being threatened by the leader of a gang, Jaime Guzman. The judge sentenced this man’s girlfriend to twenty-five years to life on a murder that the police are sure she was coerced into. We are sure Guzman did the coercing. He’s not subtle. He thinks that he is untouchable. The prosecutor was going after his girlfriend with both barrels until one night the man’s son was shot as he sat outside on their front porch.”

“Jesus, did they kill a kid?”

“No, but they did wound a ten year old. It was a warning, and the prosecutor heard it loud and clear. Not only did he recuse himself, he quit his job altogether.” The prosecutor that replaced him didn’t have any family, but the police kept him under watch still. The judge tried to refuse police protection during the trial, but then his dog was killed, and he knew that he had to do something to protect his family. That’s where we come in.”

“They killed his dog?”

“Used a knife on the poor thing. It was messy and horrifying.”

I shuddered and asked, “The police aren’t still watching them?”

“No. They watched over him and his family until the trial ended and his girlfriend was sentenced, but they didn’t have the resources to keep doing it forever. There’s a manhunt going on for Guzman right now, and I heard last night that they think a new serial killer might be working the area so the department is swamped. Jaime Guzman is a bad dude—and I’m sure that he and his guys wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing to one of these people as they did to the dog…so until he’s caught, we can’t let them out of our sight. I was going to put you on the daughter and her kid, but maybe they’ll go for this if I put you on the judge and I take the daughter. She’s on vacation right now—and she had originally agreed to stay here…before you walked in and pissed her off.”

              “What about her husband…or boyfriend?”

Blake looked confused and said, “Unless you know something that I don’t, she’s single.”

I felt that stupid glimmer of hope again. I tamped it down and said, “Oh, is she a lawyer now?”

“Yes. She’s an associate at a criminal law office downtown.”

I felt proud of her—even though I had no right, and I was glad to hear she hadn’t gotten married and she wasn’t involved with…anyone. Wanting her to be alone sounded bad—even to me. However, it wasn’t so much I wanted her to be alone as it was I didn’t want her to be with the wrong guy. “I’m sorry if I screwed this up for the agency,” I told him.  Blake just rolled his eyes.

              “I guess you had no idea that someday this woman’s stepdad would hire us. The real question at this point is, if we do this, can you remain detached and professional?”

“Absolutely.”

“Come on then, let’s get back in there and see what we can do.” I nodded. The real truth was that my stomach was in knots. Karli was even more beautiful than I remembered her—and just knowing she was in the next room was making it hard for me to breathe. I sucked it up and followed Blake back through the house and out into the garden. Hunter was chasing a cat through the roses. He was a good-looking kid—and I could see how proud Karli was of him, as she watched him play. That look changed quickly when she looked back at me.

The judge spoke first, “Mr. Donovan you come highly recommended. I chose your agency over the rest in the city because of that sterling reputation, but…my stepdaughter obviously has issues with your associate, and I’m going to have to ask that he not be involved in this case.”

              “I understand, sir,” Blake said. I was slightly taken aback at his tone. Either Blake was getting better at how he addressed people, or this judge wasn’t just an important guy, he was someone important to Blake. “My associate and I discussed it, and until one of my other men are available, I’d like to ask that Leif be in charge of your security while I provide for your wife and daughter and grandson myself.”

              The judge looked at Karli. She gave me another mean look and said, “Does that mean I can go back to my own home?”

Blake looked at her mother and then back to her. “If the judge leaves the house, and Leif goes with him, then no one would be here to watch over your mother.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”

“I could stay with you and Hunter,” her mother said.

“No, mom, it’s okay,” Karli’s tone softened. “We’re already here, and I don’t want you to be put out of your house. Mr. Donovan, if you don’t need me for anything else right now, I’ll be upstairs. I have some work to do.”

“You’re on vacation,” her mother said.

Karli gave me another look and said, “Just some motions I need to have a look at, Mom. Do you want me to take Hunter with me?”

“No, honey, he’s playing. You go ahead.”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Blake told her. “I’ll just need to get your itinerary for the week.” Karli nodded, and without looking at me, she went into the house. I couldn’t help but watch her go.

The judge cleared his throat, and I thought I saw the trace of a smile on his lips as he looked at Blake and said, “We’ll give it a try.”

              “Thank you, sir.”

********

              Since it was Sunday and the judge had no intention of leaving the house, Blake left for a few hours to wrap up some other business at the office. Karli hadn’t come back downstairs, and I promised Blake before he left that if she did, I’d leave her alone. I sat in a corner with a cup of coffee that the maid insisted I take and the Sunday paper. I tried to read it and keep my mind off of the fact that the star of every single one of my dreams was right upstairs. I couldn’t do it. I pictured her face that day I stood on her doorstep and she told me to go away and leave her alone and never come back. I’d gone back to the Middle East and stayed in Kabul instead of transferring to Kuwait as I had originally planned, and then I did my best to end my own misery so that she wouldn’t ever have to worry about running into me again. Obviously, I failed at that too.

2013

Kabul, Afghanistan

The heat in the desert was so intense that some days when I was dressed up in all of my gear I felt like I was literally melting. I think if I had to pick what I hated the most about it—that would be it. Sometimes I wondered if I had actually died in one of the explosions we absorbed and I was burning in Hell for what I’d done to Karli. After I left her that day, I’d actually considered ending my own life, but I couldn’t even do that right, so I went back to Afghanistan and hoped that nature and war would take care of it for me. So far I was still breathing, kind of. The heat also made the air so thick that it was almost impossible to suck in a full breath. It was hot once you got it into your chest, and I wondered if it was searing the inside of my lungs.

“Hey, Sarge!”

“What?” I snapped at the soldier in the Hummer with me. His name was Manuel Gonzalez, but we called him Gonzo. He was new to the team, and he talked way too freaking much. Sometimes, by the end of the day, my head was pounding like a drum simply from the sound of his voice.

He looked slightly offended as he said, “I was just going to say it’s quiet today, huh?”

I gave him a dirty look and said, “Never say that word out here. As soon as you do, the S.O.B.s are gonna send in an eight-year-old suicide bomber.”

“Sorry, Sarge.” I felt a little bad because other than saying it out loud he was right. It had been a really quiet day. He was driving, and I was in the passenger seat with way too much time to think. I always drove, but today, when I’d come out of my commander’s office, Gonzo had already situated himself in the driver’s side. Our escorts were behind us already, and they looked hot and pissed, so instead of ordering him out, I got in the passenger side. Like everything else in my adult life, I’d live to regret that later.

I’d been staring out at the barren landscape and thinking about Karli all morning while Gonzo’s voice droned on in the background. It had been over six months since I’d seen her and I was still obsessing over her. I knew there was something wrong with that…with me, but I didn’t have any idea what to do about it. Instead, I’d sent a card and a check for Hunter’s birthday. That was two months ago and she hadn’t cashed the check. I’m guessing she tore it up, or flushed it.

“It’s hotter than hell out here,” Gonzo said, as if maybe I hadn’t noticed. We may not be expecting an attack, but—out here—we were always ready for it. My helmet was on and so were my goggles. I had on my body armor underneath my fatigues and fire retardant gloves. There was a radio hanging off my hip with a wire that ran up and connected to the speaker on my shoulder. My M4 Carbine was resting against the dash in front of me, and the M9 pistol was locked and loaded and on my hip. It was hotter than hell—and all of that equipment only added to the level of discomfort. 

“Yep.” Gonzo didn’t need any more response than that. It took him about a second to think of something else to talk about, and for the next ten minutes, he droned on about his girl back home. I strongly considered ordering him to shut up, but just because I hated my life, it didn’t seem like a good enough excuse to take it out on him. He didn’t mean to be annoying. Some people just can’t help it.

When we got into the partially destroyed and deserted town, I stopped thinking about Karli long enough to focus all of my attention on the buildings coming into view. My job at that moment was to spot a sniper on top of one of the buildings before he spotted us. I also had to watch out for abandoned vehicles, or worse yet, quick moving vehicles that might be on a suicide mission. We passed through the torn up village without incident, and Gonzo pressed down on the accelerator as soon as we got to the dirt road that led toward camp. We were a few miles out when I spotted a dust cloud on the road that led up to the one we were on. It was a little white pick-up…and it was coming in fast.

“Keep an eye on this guy,” I told Gonzo as my radio crackled to life.

“Senior Sergeant First Class Thompson…”

“Thompson here.”

“What’s going on up there?” The little truck pulled onto the road in front of us and slowed down to a crawl. I heard Gonzo curse and hit the brake. We fishtailed slightly before he got us going straight on the road again.  I couldn’t see who was driving the truck from where I sat because of all of the dust between us.

“Just Granny out for a drive I hope,” I said into my radio to the escort behind us.

“You gonna pass her, or are we escorting her to Sunday meetin’?”

I chuckled. “We’re gonna see if she is in a Christian mood before we decide what to do,” I told him.

“Copy that, sir. I’m just getting a little hungry and I forgot to pack my MRE.”

“You’ll live, Fat Boy.” Fat Boy is my staff sergeant. His initials are F.B.—and that’s what he tried to go by when he got here. Once the team saw him eat, everyone started calling him Fat Boy. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, but the boy could put away the groceries.

We followed Granny for miles, and every so often Gonzo would have to almost come to a complete stop to keep from rear-ending the truck. He’d cuss each time—and more than once he asked me, “Can we pass her yet? I really think they might just be out for a Sunday drive.”

“I might buy that if it wasn’t Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir. It is, but I was just using a figure of speech.” 

“Yeah, I got that Gonzo. I also got a bad feeling in my gut. You see that turn-out up there…about twenty yards on the right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Swing off the road when we get there.”

“Copy that, sir.”

“Gonzo?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You don’t have to copy me when I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Roger, sir.” I rolled my eyes and gave up. 

I watched the truck continue to move slowly, as Gonzo began to pull off the road. After that things began to happen quickly. The little pick-up hit the brakes…and the back-up lights came on. I remember grabbing my rifle and yelling at Gonzo to reverse. That was all I remember before there was a blinding flash, and I was consumed by searing hot pain. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt, and I was sure it had burned me all the way down into my bones. I remember Gonzo’s face. It was melting, and he was screaming. I tried to get my seat belt off so that I could get to the fire extinguisher. My fire retardant gloves were on fire, and the flames were licking their way up my arms. I couldn’t save Gonzo, and I was sure his melted face would be the last sight I ever saw.