Damaged Goods (Don't Call Me Hero Book 2) (11 page)

“Ask.”

“It’s not a pretty question.”

“Your face makes up for it,” I said offhandedly.

“Did you kill anyone over there?”

“Oh.” I pushed out a long breath. “
That
question.”

“Please don’t answer if it’s something you’d rather not talk about.”

“I never want to talk about it,” I admitted, “but I need to.”

She waited, silently patient while I mentally wrestled with the past.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I finally said. “Technically, as a woman, I was never supposed to be fighting on the frontlines. But in Afghanistan, there
is
no frontline—or rather, it’s
everywhere
. This idea of people in one color of uniform standing in a straight line and shooting across No Man’s Land to where another group of people in a different color of uniform are waiting doesn’t exist anymore. War doesn’t work like that. There’s gunfire and you shoot people to stay alive and to keep your buddies alive. You never really know if your bullets hit bone and flesh, and if they do, you have no way of finding out if the other person lived or died.”

Julia quietly hummed. “I suppose that makes sense.”

I closed my eyes again even though I knew I’d see
his
face in my mind’s eye. Amir was never far from my thoughts.

+ + +

Afghanistan, 2012

He finally fell asleep. I’m delirious with exhaustion myself.

The decision has been made. We can’t leave him behind, and we can’t take him with us. He’s a liability to us making it to a safer part of the province and finding medical help. It’s already going to take a miracle for me to get Pense out of here alive.

Amir wakes up when he feels the cold press of my M9 against his forehead. Even though I’ve yanked him out of sleep, he doesn’t look surprised. We both know what’s coming next.

I can taste the sand and blood in my mouth. In hindsight, I probably should have asked Pensacola to do it for me.

CHAPTER SIX

Julia stood before the sliding door in her kitchen, which led out to a small balcony large enough for two chairs and a round table. “Do you want to eat on the balcony tonight? It looks like it might rain,” she thought aloud, “but it might be nice to eat outside if we can beat the raindrops.”

A heavy black cloud hung in the light blue sky. On the horizon, the sun was just beginning to set. Sunsets tended to remind me of my time overseas. It had been my favorite time of day. The base camp’s concrete and steel perimeter, which provided us with blast protection, washed out all the color like an overexposed image. Except at sunset and sunrise, everything had been grey and brown and tan.

“Come here.” I curled my finger at her.

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

“I saw you not two days ago, dear,” she reminded me with a light laugh.

“What can I say? You’re awfully missable.”

“I suppose, then, it’s a good thing that my mother’s hearing is tomorrow.”

“Good for my libido, sure,” I confirmed, “but how are
you
feeling about it?”

“Stressed,” she admitted. “I would have liked more time, but I doubt this is the kind of thing I’d ever truly feel prepared for.”

“Well you know what they say: when life gives you lemons—”

“Just kiss me,” Julia demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured into her mouth.

I ghosted my tongue over her lips and felt the small scar on her upper lip, the one her brother Jonathan had caused when they were young. I had been an only child. I had never lacked for friends, but I’d always wished I’d had a sibling. I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing someone like that, especially in the way Jonathan had died.

My hand wandered beneath one of those pencil skirts that I loved so much on her. I hoped winter would never come. My hand slid along the smooth skin of her inner thigh until it came to rest at the apex of her heat. Her underwear, currently hidden from view, was silk and delicate. My finger hovered at her clit, lightly pressing against it.

“Dear God,” she groaned into me. Her arms wrapped around my torso and her hands clutched my back.

I moved my hand and roughly cupped her sex. I deftly pushed her underwear to the side and pressed the tip of my middle finger against her entrance. The heat and beginnings of her arousal urged me to push into her.

“Can you hit the pause button on dinner?” I husked.

She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head with remorse. With uncanny willpower, I withdrew my hand from her underwear.

Julia tugged down on the bottom hem of her fitted skirt to return the garment to its original position. “You’re insatiable, Officer Miller.”

“Keep calling me that,” I growled in warning, “and I’ll be the only thing you eat tonight.”

Her lips twisted. “Go set the table,
Officer
,” she clucked.

I saw the flash of light leap across the blackening sky before the ground rumbled beneath us.

I jump on top of Pensacola and throw him to the ground. We hit the earthen floor of the safe house hard. Pensacola’s body cushions my fall, but only barely. The scent of burning hair and charred flesh infiltrates my nostrils.

My back stings. I’ve been hit, but I don’t know the extent of my injuries. The pain reminds me of the time my dad ran over an underground beehive with the lawnmower, and I’d been attacked by a swarm of pissed-off bees. I’d had to carry an EpiPen with me after that, an allergic reaction I’d since outgrown as an adult.

Pensacola’s screams are muffled by the lingering ringing in my ears.

“Stay still,” I growl.

“My legs!” he protests. I can feel him squirm beneath me. “Fuck! They’re on fire!”

“Stay still,” is my repeated command. The I.E.D. has already done its damage, but there’s no telling if there will be more. “We’re alive, Pense,” I tell him. “For now.”

“Cassidy.”
The voice in my head was different now, not Pensacola’s. “Cassidy.”

Feminine.

Reassuring.

“Let me up, dear.”

The burning smell was gone, and the scent of fresh flowers—roses—filled my nostrils instead.

“Shit.” I scurried to my feet when I realized what had happened.

Julia gingerly rolled onto her back. Her eyes looked unfocused. I extended my hand to help her up, and through some miracle, she accepted the gesture.

I carefully pulled her to her feet and absently brushed at her clothes even though her floors were clean enough to eat off of. I opened my mouth to speak, not sure what I should even say, but my intentions were interrupted by the sound of the smoke alarm.

Julia flipped her hair out of her eyes and sighed. “I suppose dinner is done.”

We never made it out on the balcony for dinner. The smoke alarm was connected to a central system, and when the sensor in Julia’s kitchen had been triggered, all of the alarms in the building had gone off. The condo’s residents dutifully marched outside, and we waited on the curb until the fire department gave us the all clear. Thankfully, I didn’t know any of the emergency responders in St. Paul. The evening had been embarrassing enough without the well-meaning harassment I would have faced from them.

After dinner had been eaten and the dishes had been cleared away and cleaned, Julia and I lay in bed. Julia flipped through one of her giant, hardcover law books by the glow of a bedside lamp—final prep-work for her mother’s custody case. I stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. The reading light and the sounds of turning pages wasn’t what was keeping me awake though.

“I’m sorry—” My apology got caught in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “I’m sorry I ruined tonight.”

Julia’s response was immediate: “You did no such thing.”

Dinner hadn’t been ruined—not palatably at least. Julia was an amazing cook and had managed to stem the worst of the damage, but things had been tense around the dinner table.

“Still, it can’t be easy. Dealing with this. With me.” I shook my head bitterly and tried to stay the quivering of my lower lip. “Can’t even handle a stupid thunderstorm without freaking out.”

Julia closed the weighty tome and removed her reading glasses. “When you heard the storm outside, where did you go?”

“To a safe house in Afghanistan. I have the dream a lot,” I admitted. “It’s one of my reoccurring ones. My unit has just apprehended a key al-Qaeda operative. We’ve delivered him to a safe house and we’re waiting for transport out of the region. Only, it’s not really a safe house. There’s an explosion and everyone but me and Terrance dies.”

“You thought I was Terrance.”

“Yeah,” I said thickly. “I try to save them, but no matter how many times I have the dream, I never know when the I.E.D.’s going to go off.”

“I.E.D.?” she repeated.

“Improvised explosive device.”

She made a quiet noise, a thoughtful hum. “What’s it like? Your flashbacks?”

I paused for a moment and reflected on the question. “You know when you get scared or surprised by something? How your heart rate increases, and your breathing becomes more rapid?”

She nodded and I continued.

“For most people when the danger passes, your body goes back to normal. It’s not like that for me. I can’t shut off that fight or flight reaction.”

“I’ve seen the nightmares firsthand, but have you ever had a waking flashback like that before?” she asked.

“Once. It was two Fourth of July’s ago. I’ve never
attacked
anyone before though. I’m so sorry, Julia.” I sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “When you get into bed with me, you get into bed with my war memories, too.”

“I never met pre-war Cassidy Miller,” Julia considered. “Maybe she would have been a bore.”

“She was a lot like me,” I said, “just with less muscles.”

Julia trailed a single fingernail down the flat plane of my abdomen, briefly dipping into the hollow of my bellybutton. “See? She couldn’t have been anywhere near as appealing as you are.”

“Too bad my back looks like the surface of the moon,” I snorted.

Julia’s fingers continued to stroke along my body. “Hush. I’m not looking at your back right now, am I?”

+ + +

The next morning, I stayed in bed and watched Julia get ready for the day. Normally I would already be gone to work by the time she had to get up, but I had the next two days off which meant I could sit back and enjoy the show. She moved with such grace and poise that she practically floated around the room. Her sheer nude bra and matching underwear begged me to throw back the covers and persuade her to ditch her responsibilities, but she couldn’t. Not today. Not on the day of her mother’s guardianship trial.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked her.

“Not at all,” she admitted. “I must have gone over the details of my mother’s case a thousand times last night. My brain refused to shut off. And I don’t even have the luxury of an early start time,” she lamented. “The trial is late this afternoon, so I get to think about it all day.”

“Are you nervous? Because it’s okay if you are,” I assured her. “No one’s going to judge you for having emotions.”

“I’ll just be happy for this to be over, one way or another. Maybe then we can get back to our life.”

I couldn’t help my smile. I loved her use of the couple-y pronoun. I would never admit that to her though. She had enough dirt on me already.

She sat down on the edge of the bed to slip into unforgiving high heels. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I don’t know yet. I might go back to sleep. I’ll probably go to the gym at some point,” I mused, “but maybe I’ll just stick around here and open up your mail.”

“Rumor has it, that’s a federal offense,” she smiled.

“Luckily for me, I know a great lawyer.”

She puffed out a deep breath. “After today we’ll see how great.”

“Do your best,” I said, echoing her text to me on my first day back to work. “I’ll see you later at family court.”

My phone rang just moments after Julia left the apartment. I expected it to be her calling—maybe she’d forgotten something—but it was an unknown local number instead.

“Hello?”

“Miller, it’s Mendez,” my partner gruffly greeted me. “The precinct is shorthanded today. They need us to come in.”

“Are you serious?” I didn’t hide my displeasure.

“I’m not calling because I miss the sound of your voice,” he grunted. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Mendez hung up without waiting for my reply. I slammed my fist against the mattress and made a frustrated sound. So much for my day off.

A speedy shower and bowl of cereal later, I texted Julia on my walk to my bike:
Your mail is safe for the day
, I told her.
I got called in to work.

Her reply was nearly immediate:
They can do that?

I wondered if she was going to be able to focus on any of her work that morning knowing her mother’s custody trial was only hours away.

I don’t have much of a choice,
I replied.
It sucks, but I’ve gotta be a team player if I want to pass my review.

They’re taking advantage of you,
her next text observed.

I know.

That’s supposed to be my job.

My thumbs moved rapidly across my phone’s keyboard. I was going to be late, but Mendez would have to wait
. Counselor, are you flirting with me?

She ignored my question:
Be safe out there today, Officer.

+ + +

“Have you seen Officer Mendez?” I asked the sergeant sitting desk in the Fourth Precinct.

I was late getting to the police station because I’d driven in from St. Paul and had had to drop by my apartment to pick up my uniform. I hadn’t expected to be needed that day. Morning roll call had already been dismissed by the time I arrived at the precinct. I’d looked around the men’s locker room and the surrounding area, but I couldn’t find my partner. A phone call to his cell phone had produced equally unsatisfying results. I was starting to think maybe he’d called me in on my first day off as a rookie prank.

“Misplaced your FTO already, Miller?” the uniformed man chuckled. His nameplate read T. Hammond, but I didn’t know his face. He looked like the typical desk sergeant though—salt and peppered at his temples and a little extra around the beltline.

I curled my lip. “Give me a break, I’m not even supposed to be in today.”

Hammond picked up his desk phone and pressed a few buttons. “Mendez to the front. Your partner is waiting.”

A few seconds later the desk sergeant’s voice broadcasted over the building’s P.A. system.