Embattled Minds (Military Romance) (Lost And Found Series) (6 page)

Ember ran around like a mad woman, in stark contrast to the military precision the men brought to the situation. Chad was the obvious one in charge, even ordering Ember through a controlled list of objectives. Within an hour, they had the first load of furniture ready to transport.

She called for the boy to get ready to go outside, and he came running. His enthusiasm dimmed when he found out they were going over to the other apartment. “Can I ride with Zeke?” he asked.

Zeke blinked in surprise, curious why the kid wanted to even be near him. Drew smiled up at him with clear-eyed trust, and he couldn’t help but give him a wink.

“Well, I don’t know, honey.” Ember’s big brown eyes looked up at him, and he knew she wouldn’t crowd him if he didn’t want her near.

“You c-can ride with me.”

He regretted the offer almost immediately, but Drew whooped for joy. He jabbered excitedly when he caught sight of the Zeke-sized black truck. Ember transferred Drew’s booster chair from her car to the back seat of his vehicle, shoving a couple of boxes to the side.

Chad grinned at him when he noticed Ember shuffling, and Zeke felt his face heat with embarrassment. Shoving his sunglasses on to keep out the glare of the snowy day, he shook his head.

Excitement ran through him, too. Interaction with people outside his direct group of coworkers was minimal. Interaction with women-almost zero. His speech therapist didn’t count. At the office he did background searches and record checks for the most part, with the occasional overnight stakeout thrown in for variety, and reported to Chad and Duncan. He had very little contact with the outside world.

Which suited him fine. His brain had been scrambled and he couldn’t be depended upon for more important tasks until he’d unscrambled it. But after three years, his progress was slow. He had a feeling he was as good as he was ever going to get.

As he started the truck, he glanced at Ember. Even with the bruise discoloring her face she was beautiful. She had a black winter coat pulled up around her chin, and tan ear muffs over her ears. She smiled at her son as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You’ll have your own room just like before, and this spring we’ll decorate it for you.”

The boy didn’t say anything so she turned forward to give Zeke directions to the new apartment. He could tell that her son’s non-response hurt her feelings.

“I have a feeling you’ll f-find kids your age to p-p-play with. You said they have a playground?”

Ember nodded. He glanced at Drew in the rearview mirror. “That would be nice, right?”

The little boy scrunched up his face. “I guess.”

He didn’t seem hopeful, though.

“And I can already tell you like it at Ms. Miller’s, right? It sounds l-like she had several little kids your age.”

Drew didn’t respond.

Zeke sighed. It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with his nieces and nephews, so his rusty conversational skills were deserting him. Not to mention, he was hyperaware of the woman sitting beside him, her vanilla scent curling around him. The slightest move she made he felt. She’d dressed in an oh, so provocative Broncos sweatshirt with cupped her full breasts perfectly, and her jeans looked like they’d been spray painted on her. Watching her bend over to pack items and move boxes had been torture, and kept him agitated all day.

Flurries started to fly as they pulled into the apartment complex Ember had chosen, so they all started to move a little faster. The apartment building itself looked well-kept and safe, so he felt better about moving her into it. Ember stood in the doorway of her new apartment and directed the men where to place things. Within just a few minutes the once empty space was substantially fuller.

Brian talked to Drew as they walked down the hallway, asking him where he wanted his bed when it was put together. Zeke carried Ember’s headboard into the opposite bedroom and started to put together the frame. Even just handling her bed had him semi-aroused. It didn’t help when Ember came in carrying a box for the closet. She dropped it to the floor and arched her back, swinging her arms above her head. Her full breasts pressed against the material of her sweatshirt, and the bare skin of her stomach peeked out. She was unaware he sat just a few feet away from her.

Tightening the last bolt into the frame with his Leatherman, he deliberately made noise. She glanced at him and smiled, then seemed to catch herself. “Sorry, it’s a little strange having a man in my bedroom.”

Zeke was unable to tear his gaze away from the pink tinge coloring her cheeks. Her straight hair was in another ponytail, disheveled yet sexy at the same time. He wanted to toss the elastic, just to see what she looked like with her hair down. Beautiful, of course, but he wanted to see it for himself.

Another want he could add to his ever expanding, never-gonna-happen list.

He pushed to his feet to stand in front of her. “I’m nobody.”

*****

Ember stared after Zeke’s retreating back. Why would he say that? He wasn’t really that down on himself, was he?

They finished unpacking the larger items, then she locked up with her brand new key and they loaded into the vehicles to go back to her dad’s house. Drew fell asleep in the back seat, little action figure clutched in his hand.

“I think one more load and we should be done,” she told Zeke, just to break the silence of the truck.

He glanced at her. “Are you sure? S-seems like there’s still a l-lot of stuff there.”

“I know, but I can’t take everything. I’m only taking what I know I’ve bought. Eventually Dad will get out of jail and come home.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “I feel guilty enough taking what I have. It’s going to break his heart when he discovers we’ve moved out.”

“You can’t keep worrying about that,” he told her firmly. “If one of the-the waitresses came in, bl-black and blue, what would you have told her to do?”

“Move out. And not to hesitate.”

Zeke nodded, waving a big hand as if to say ‘there you have it’.

In her mind, she knew she had taken the correct path. It was just hard telling her heart that.

She ordered several pizzas to be delivered for lunch as they finished loading the trucks. The snow had tapered off and a weak Colorado sun was shining. While the guys ate, Ember wandered through the house, looking for things she’d forgotten. She ended at her father’s den, reluctant to enter. There probably wasn’t anything of hers inside, but she was going to check.

When she opened the door, the smell of her father’s favorite leather chair rolled over her, and her heart clenched. She wished for a time when everything had been good. When Mom had been cooking in the kitchen and their shared laughter had filled the air.

Dad’s worn scrapbook lay on the floor. Crossing the room, she retrieved the leather-bound tome and sank into the chair. A tumbler of his favorite Kentucky Bourbon sat on the end table, as if he’d just gotten up to close the blinds or tuck his grandson into bed. She flipped the book open to the page it had been spread to.

It was a news article, dated from March first, nineteen sixty-eight. ‘
The Marines have prevailed at the Battle of Huế…at the cost of 5000 civilian lives
’. She recognized her father’s old Company name, and knew that he had been in Vietnam at that time. Her eyes drifted over the words of what had to be her father’s history.

Zeke came in a few minutes later with a stack of pizza for her and a cola. Ember stared at the plate in his hand, honestly surprised he’d thought of her. “Thank you.”

He set the cola beside the glass of bourbon. “If I’m bo-bothering you I can go.”

She shook her head, looking back down at the news article. “Do you know anything about this battle? My father has never said anything about it. But there are several derogatory articles about it in here, and I recognize my father’s company name.”

Zeke knelt on the floor beside the chair and she turned the book to him. He read for a few minutes, then glanced up at her self-consciously. “I didn’t get through the who-ole article, but I recognize the name. Huế, pronounced
way
, was a major cl-clash be-tween the North Vietcong and the Marines and South Vietnam. The N-north snatched power and held the city for a month. The Marines couldn’t get a break and were…outnumbered. But they f-f-fought on, and recaptured the city. B-but, most of it was gone. Like eighty p-percent of it. That was when support from home started to change.”

“Really?” She’d never have known any of this, but was willing to take his word for it.

He nodded, tilting his chin so that she didn’t see as much of his face. She’d noticed throughout the day that he would shift to keep the more damaged left side out of view.

Wish he wouldn’t do that.

Those marks were badges of courage. Nothing else.

“They couldn’t get h-heavy…heavy artillery into the town, so they were l-l-l-l-literally under weapon fire every day. And they had an agreement with the g-g-government not to bomb anything. So they couldn’t get air support.”

She flipped through a few pages of news articles, then came upon a page with an envelope stapled to it. There was something lumpy inside it. Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped it over, leaving it attached to the page. The envelope itself was open, so she slid her fingers inside the flap and fished out the item.

A Purple Heart. Even she knew the significance of the medal.

Zeke whistled through his teeth and reached out a finger to brush against the enamel. “They didn’t give these out very often b-back then, and a lot of times it was y-y-years after they’d returned home.”

Why hadn’t Dad said something about this? She had known he’d been in the Marines but he’d never whispered a word about receiving the Purple Heart. Mom hadn’t mentioned it either. She flipped through the book and found another envelope, this one a small manila with ‘Frog Dog’ scrawled across the front. There were several more uniform ribbons and awards inside. She shook her head. “Why wouldn’t he be proud of these?”

Zeke shrugged and his ice-blue eyes darkened. “S-sometimes you fall into…s-situations where you have no choice but to fight. A lot of guys don’t c-co-consider that being courageous.”

Her throat tightened with emotion and she blinked hard. “It must have been one of these buddies that died.”

He seemed to think the same thing, because he didn’t disagree. Carefully and reverently, he repackaged the ribbons and medals.

Ember appreciated his care. It made her proud that her dad’s service could inspire that kind of respect.

“Was your family in the military?”

Blinking, he shook his head. “There may have been sh-short stints, but for the most p-p-p-part my family are farmers. They own a…d-dairy in Ohio.”

She laughed and couldn’t help but reach out to squeeze his bulging deltoid muscle.
Oh, yeah
. “So that’s how you got so strong. You grew up drinking your milk like a good little boy.”

His eyes flared with heat and he glanced away. “S-s-something like that.”

Pushing to his feet, he set the book on her father’s desk, then turned to the shelves lining the far wall. Her father had a massive collection of books, on what seemed like every different subject. As she ate her pizza, she watched Zeke go from shelf to shelf, looking at the spines. He stopped to look at a book, and Ember caught her breath. Just the way he stood, with the light hitting his dirty blond hair, feet planted, faded blue T-shirt straining around his massive bicep, made her want to cross the room and snug herself up against his gorgeous ass. She’d wrap her arms around his waist and cuddle in.

Reaching for the cola, she took a couple of huge swallows. The guy was helping her out, but all she could do was ogle him. Each of the others were cute too, in their own way and in spite of their injuries, but Zeke tugged at her heart.

“Has he read all these?” he asked.

Ember set her plate aside and stepped up beside him in front of the paperbacks shelf. “These, yes, some many times over. My dad always has a book close at hand. There’s a stack behind the bar at Frog Dog of loaners. His buddies come in here and there and they swap books. I guess it’s the masculine version of a book club.”

He glanced at her and smiled.

“If you see something you’d like to read, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Just leave it at the bar when you’re done.”

Zeke winced and reached out to run his finger over the spine of a recent bestseller. “I used to-to read a lot, but after the e-e-explosion I can’t… untangle words like I used to. Takes a long time.”

“That must be so frustrating. Do you listen to books on tape?”

His blue eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. “I do. Es-specially when I’m on surveillance.”

She grinned at the enjoyment in his rough face, but he must have gotten uncomfortable with the attention, because he turned away.

Ember pursed her lips in aggravation. Being injured the way he was, she wondered if he would even try to pursue an attraction. Maybe it was up to her to forge through his protective walls, so to speak.

Zeke drifted over to her father’s guitar in the corner of the office. He stared at it for a few long moments, before glancing at her over his shoulder. “Mind?”

She shook her head, curious what he would do with the old acoustic. It had seen better days and Dad kept it more for sentimental reasons than practical. Zeke picked it up and dust swirled away. He fitted it under his arm, running through chords to check to see if it was in tune. It wasn’t off by much, but his broad fingers tweaked and tightened until it was at perfect pitch. Seamlessly, he strummed the opening chords to “Home” by Michael Buble.

Ember knew her mouth had to be hanging open, but she didn’t care. As if he couldn’t
not
, his deep voice fell into accompaniment. She stepped away to sink down into a chair, entranced by the broken man singing, eyes shut. Tendrils of need and longing crept into her heart, and it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Tears filled her eyes.

Almost halfway through the song, his fingers fumbled a note and he stopped singing. When she lifted her eyes to look at him, he stared at her as if he’d forgotten she were there. Jaw tight, emotion brimming in his eyes, he set the guitar back on the stand and walked out of the room.