Not Another Soldier (23 page)

Hopefully.

My stomach churns with excitement and trepidation.
Today I am going to win Nick back. I’m going to tell him exactly how much I
love him.

I yank open the door and someone’s standing there,
ready to knock. I frown as we both stare at each other. The red-haired man
looks as surprised as I do.

“Can I—”

The raised hand shoots for my face and suddenly I’m
staring at my beige carpet, stars exploding in my visions, pain radiating
through my nose. “What the fuck?” I manage to mutter before a hand clamps over
my mouth.

Nick

I skim
my gaze over the soldier on the treadmill next to me and sigh. I feel ancient
compared to him. Past my prime. I push harder and kick up the speed. He’s
barely breaking a sweat but I can tell he’s getting a buzz from kicking my ass.

They all look the same, these kids. That cocky gleam
in their eye like they can take on the world. I relish it normally. Looking
after them, playing some role in molding them. Even though I’m stuck behind a
damned desk, I’m not stupid. Being on the front line isn’t the only thing
keeping the corps running. But on days like today…

On days like today, I’d rather be rolling around in
the sand than competing with boys who are only behaving exactly how we’ve
taught them to behave. We’ve removed all their fear, spat them out and then the
politicians scratch their heads and wonder why we’ve got all these guys who
can’t adjust to civilian life. We fill them full of attitude and aggression.
Something I could do without right now. All this frustration burning inside me
is going to send me over the edge.

He flashes me a grin. “Maybe you should slow it down,
Sergeant?”

I bite back a growl and am about to respond when my
ringtone sounds from my gym bag. I glare, jab at the treadmill, climb off and
snatch my phone out. My heart ricochets in my chest when I pull it out and see
the number. Sienna.

I debate my cell for a minute, then slide to answer.
“Sienna?”

Nothing. I strain to listen. Has she called me and
lost her nerve? God knows, I’ve nearly called her several times this week. I
cover the phone and glance at the private. I’m not having some kid listening to
me grovel to Sienna so I snatch my bag and head outside. I try again. “Sienna,
sweetheart, are you there?”

I pray for her to answer but there’s nothing, just a
scratching sound. Maybe she rung by accident. Fuck, I really thought she would
have phoned by now. One week without her has been a nightmare. Hell, I normally
enjoy dealing with all the issues that arise at work. I relish taking these
guys under my wing and trying to remind them they’re not all Superman and it’s
damned easy to get killed by being cocky.

But not having Sienna in my life has taken away all my
enjoyment. At least when she was married to Rob I still got to see her
occasionally, even if it shattered me at times. Not seeing her at all… well, I
may as well cut out my own heart. It fucking kills.

In spite of myself, I listen, hoping to hear
something. I promised to give her space. That’s the only reason I haven’t
contacted her. Because of my stupid promise. But I’ve pushed and pushed and I
can’t keep on pushing. What if I’d pushed her into ‘us’? How would I know it
was what she really wanted? So I’m going to stick it out and wait. Because,
hell, that’s one thing I’m good at, right?

As I listen, I become aware of a scuffling sound. I
stand a little straighter. Has she just pocket dialed me? I can hear a voice—a
man’s voice. Jealousy makes my gut curl tight and I squeeze the phone hard. But
what does it matter? It could be anyone.

I hear a squeal and more scuffling. My pulse bounds a
little. This doesn’t sound like a normal conversation. I can’t catch what the
guy is saying but it sounds low and threatening. Then Sienna whimpers and I
know this is not good. Has she rung me for help?

I’m torn between going to her, and waiting to find out
what’s going on. Shit, I never should have left her. I knew something bad was
going to happen. My instincts had been warning me since we found the drugs and
I ignored them.

 I drop my bag, cell still clamped to my ear and
fish my keys out. Sprinting to the office buildings, I fumble to open the door
and unlock my office. Hurrying around my desk, I yank open the top drawer. My
hand hovers over the lockbox. I open it, snatch my pistol and tuck it into the
back of my pants. Without even responding to any of the salutes as I storm
past, I dive out the building for my car. Sienna questions the man. “What do
you want with me? Where are you taking me?”

Mentally I beg her to tell me more. Just a hint. If
they’re taking her somewhere, she’ll be long gone by the time I reach her
apartment. If she’s even there. I’m not sure what shifts she’s working so she
could be at the hospital. I fumble to open my car and dive in. Even when I
start the engine, I’m still not sure what I’m doing. I can barely make out
anything now, just lots of muffled sounds. Anger, fear, regret all pile up
inside me, making bile rise in my throat.

My mind keeps running over the
what ifs
. What
if I’d been there with her? What if I never see her again? What if they’re
intending to kill her? Then the
whys
spring up. Why do they even want
her? She hasn’t got the damned drugs. And why the fuck did I let my pride get
in the way? I should have stuck with her, shown her I’ll always be there no
matter what.

Dammit.

I slam my palm down on the steering wheel, put the
cell on speakerphone and gun the engine. As I grind out of the parking lot, the
line goes dead and I’m fairly certain my heart gives out for a moment too. At
that point I decide to head for her apartment. Grabbing her at the hospital
would be too difficult. She promised she’d be extra careful there and the
security guys were aware of everything that had happened. But at home, I’m
willing to bet she let her guard down. If I was a bad guy, it’s where I’d grab
her.

What I’m going to do when I get there though, I don’t
know. Turn the place upside down until I find her perhaps? Call the cops? I
can’t really think straight right now. I’ve no idea what’s going on around me.
In fact, I probably shouldn’t be driving. All I can think of is getting to
Sienna and pounding my fist into whoever has her. Breaking a few bones would
feel great. I promise myself they will pay for hurting her and for the times
they scared her and tried to harm her. I will make them pay. My fingers twitch
on the wheel as I imagine wrapping my hands around the neck of the guy Sienna
kept calling Skinhead. A bitter taste hits my mouth. I’m normally pretty in
control of my temper but at the moment my blood is rushing under my skin,
pounding in my skull. The need to protect what is mine is unlike anything I’ve
ever experienced on the battlefield. I’m not sure I even remember being so
angry and scared when we were pinned down and fighting for our lives.

But then we were soldiers, doing what we were trained
to do. Sienna never asked for any of this. She doesn’t deserve any of it.
Sweet, funny, kind-hearted Sienna only deserves the nicest fucking things to
happen to her. If—
when
—I get her back, I’m going to make damned sure her
life is the best it can be.

I pull up outside her apartment, barely aware of how I
got here. My parking is crap but I don’t care. Her car’s still here, but that
doesn’t mean much. Thankfully I still remember the door code so I climb out the
car, slam the door shut and am in the building within seconds. I slow my pace
as I ascend the stairs, aware her attacker could still be around.

Drawing out my pistol, I flick off the safety and
creep up the stairs. It’s quiet. Her neighbors are probably at work. Even from
the bottom of the stairs, I can see her door is ajar. I’m tense. What is it
they say? Like a coiled spring? That’s how I feel. Except I have a lot more at
stake than a damned spring.

I pause outside the door but everything’s silent. The
empty sensation in my gut tells me she’s gone but I can’t take the risk. I
carefully and methodically search her apartment, as if I’m clearing a building.

There’s not even any sign of a struggle. No hint as to
where she’s been taken aside from an apple discarded on the floor, a bit taken
out of it. I scoop up the apple and study it. I’m all ready to leap into action
and have nowhere to go. The sharp drop in adrenaline makes my legs shake and I
slump onto the couch, put my head in my hands and honestly… I consider crying.
My pistol is in the hand near my forehead, so I flick the safety back on.

I draw myself up and skim my gaze about the room. What
the hell do I do now? I swear I’ve never felt so powerless in my life. Even
when the shrapnel tore through my calf, at least I still managed to keep
shooting.

Okay, so I have to do something. I swipe the screen of
my cell and go into the kitchen to grab the house phone, knowing I programmed
Detective Matthews’s number into it. The door to her bedroom is open and just
looking at her bed, still all messy, makes my chest ache. I should have been
here. We should have woken up together. It’s an old fashioned belief, but as a
man, you feel like you need to protect the women in your life. I should have
been here to protect her.

Before the tightness in my throat closes over, I jab
in the number. I hate to admit it but I am in way over my head here. I just hope
they can do what I can’t and bring her back to me in one piece.

***

Sienna

The journey in the car makes me sick. I’m on the back
seat, lying across it. Each turn makes my stomach roll. I don’t know if it’s
from fear but I’ve got to say being laid down in a car, not being able to see
anything, is not a fun experience. My hands are tied and the guy isn’t driving
particularly fast but I can’t brace myself properly when the car corners.

In the passenger seat I can just see Skinhead. He turned
around briefly to leer at me and he’s ignored me the rest of the time. The guy
who punched me, I don’t recognize. Maybe Skinhead had messed up too many times
to be allowed the privilege of grabbing me. Perhaps he was worried he’d get
another wine bottle to the head.

I try to focus on that memory. Of a time when I was
terrified but I fought back. I’m secretly hopeful something miraculous will
happen and I’ll be able to fight back again, but the pounding of my heart and
the tremors that keep attacking me are making me forget that I escaped Skinhead
twice now. I have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be so easy this time.

I just wish I knew what they wanted. I don’t have the
drugs. I don’t get why they want me. Surely I’m not that important? I’m a nurse
for Godsakes. A nobody. Someone with a pretty dull life until recently. I
never, in my entire life, expected to be attacked and kidnapped.

The car takes a corner and I press my feet into the
car door to try to brace myself and stop me from rolling off the back seat. I
keep thinking of all the films I’ve seen about kidnapping, like that one with
Liam Neeson, and wonder if I should be counting stuff or listening carefully.
But counting what? I guess if you’re going in a straight line, maybe you can
figure out the distance you’ve traveled? I really don’t know. And all I can
hear is traffic and the car engine. My ear is pressed into the leather seat so
the noise of the car is pretty loud. Skinhead and the red-haired guy—I think of
him as ‘Meathead’ due to his thick shoulders and large head—don’t have much to
say to each other.
They
clearly know what is going on.

My head pounds like I’ve got the hangover from hell. I
doubt my nose is broken but I’m willing to bet I’ve some nice bruises coming
up. I’m a little numb to the pain in my face—just suffering with a headache—but
that might be because of the fear. I’m scared for myself—I mean how else is
this going to end up? While I can’t figure out what they want from me, it can’t
be anything good. But actually my biggest regret is not seeing Nick again.
Things ended so badly. My throat clogs. I wonder if they’ll let me call him one
last time and tell him how much I love him.

It’s kind of funny because being tied up in the back
of a car does put your life in perspective. I hate that I wasted so much time
on Rob yet I wasn’t willing to put the time in with Nick. I worked so hard at a
marriage that didn’t work and then gave up on something that could have been
amazing.
Was
amazing.

Yep, I’m an idiot. This has only confirmed what I’ve
begun to realize. I will do anything, go anywhere to be with Nick. If there was
even the slightest doubt in me before, it’s gone now. If only I’d gotten the
opportunity to tell him. Why hadn’t I called him when I had the chance? If I’d
taken just two minutes to speak to him, I might not be in the back of this
damned car going God knows where.

Because you were still scared,
a
voice whispers.

But I’m not scared now. Not of being with Nick. The
idea sends the slightest trickle of courage through me. I have to survive this.
Whatever happens, I need to tell Nick that he’s worth it. Need to tell him I
want to fight for us and that I’ll put in all hours for him.

Just like he did with me.

Even if he rejects me, it won’t matter, because at
least he’ll know.

The car slows to take another corner and it gives me
the chance to twist my neck and see where we are. There are cranes around us
but I can’t make out much more—only sky. We roll to a stop and I have to cling
real hard to my courage to stop from hyperventilating.

I’m really not ready to die. I’m not sure if I’m being
melodramatic but that’s the only outcome I can think of. They’re hardly going
to snatch me and then let me go on my way when I tell them there’s no drugs
left. Because that’s got to be the only reason they want me. Maybe the
newspaper article didn’t work after all. Guess Nick was right about that too.