The Asset (5 page)

Holy Mother. That’s why he hadn’t come back to Copperhill for the funeral, because he’d been in a coma on the day we buried Wynona.

“I’m not nuts, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Ash turned to me. “I swear I’m not fucking nuts.”

“I know that,” I said. “You’re just naturally profane, stubborn and irritating.”

“Sounds about right,” Gunny Watkins said. “I didn’t say that you were nuts, sir, but you’ve got unresolved medical issues. You refused to talk to the therapist and you haven’t undergone your premedical release evaluation. As far as the doctors are concerned, you’re not safe to be on your own recognizance.”

“What now?” Ash shook his head. “Do you think I’m going to turn into a mass murderer?”

“No, sir, I do not,” she said in her exacting tone. “But you haven’t followed the standard protocols and you refuse to follow orders. You may have tricked the hospital staff into letting you go, but you’re not officially discharged. You’re not even supposed to be driving. Even if you were able to straighten the hospital situation, according to regulations, you’d need a caregiver. We can’t have you running around without supervision, sir.”

“That’s a really long way of saying that I’m fucked.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “What’s the Corps’s definition of a caregiver?”

“A caregiver is a person who provides direct care, protection and supervision for a marine who’s injured or ill,” the gunny explained. “Given Major Hunter’s conditions and stage of treatment—not to mention his recent history of insubordination and noncompliance—he requires a full-time caregiver.”

Ash swore under his breath. “That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“What about a home health care agency?” I asked.

“He needs ongoing observation,” the gunny said.

“So what you’re saying is not that I need a caregiver,” Ash said, “but rather a caretaker, someone to watch over me, as if I were a useless, decrepit, dilapidated old building, a nonoperating military installation waiting to be decommissioned and demolished.”

“That’s not what I said, sir.”

“That’s exactly what you implied.”

“Caregiver, caretaker, call it what you will.”

“I don’t need a fucking caretaker!”

These two were about to come to blows.

“Gunny,” I said. “Couldn’t you designate a caregiver for Major Hunter and let him be?”

“Therein lies the problem,” the gunny said. “In his case, there are no family members to provide ongoing care, so the Corps must assume responsibility.”

Life was throwing some hard pitches at me and I couldn’t dodge them all. My thoughts wavered from one extreme to the other. A few days ago I’d taken in Ash Hunter. Thirty minutes ago I’d asked him to leave my house for some very valid reasons. What the heck was I thinking now?

As if sensing my unease, Neil padded over to me and settled his head on my lap. I petted him between the ears. Part of me understood exactly how Ash felt—trapped, isolated and without recourse—confused, desperate and afraid. He was as alone in the world as I was. He’d come here to heal but couldn’t, because his home had burned down and his grandmother was dead. The other part of me wanted to throttle my empathic version.

I fingered the obsidian pendant hanging around my neck. If the dead could speak from their graves, Wynona Hunter would be shouting my ear off just about now. I’d already set aside my safety to help out her grandson once. But this...this could be even more dangerous.

“I’m Major Hunter’s landlord,” I said tentatively. “Couldn’t I care for him?”

Ash stared at me. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Gunny Watkins adjusted her glasses and tapped on her tablet. “I’m afraid that under the current rules, landlords don’t qualify as viable caregivers.”

Ash shook his head. “So it’s back to I’m fucked all over again.”

“Watch your temper, will you?” I said. “So, Gunny, the caregiver has to be a family member?”

“Exactly.”

“I see.”
Don’t ask. It won’t work. Bad idea.
“Is a girlfriend considered a family member?”

Both Ash and Gunny Watkins stared at me as if I’d lost my mind, which I probably had. Ash started to say something.

“Hush.” I looked to Gunny. “Well?”

“I believe so.” She scrolled down her screen. “Yes, here it is. Girlfriends can become official caregivers.”

“Well, then, that settles it,” I said. “I’m Ash’s girlfriend and I’m willing to be his caretaker—I mean, caregiver.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Ash stared at me as if frogs and snakes had just leaped out of my mouth. Gunny Watkins eyed me as if she’d never seen me until this second. The internal throttling had already started. Such a freaking fool.

The gunny shook her head. “I don’t know about this...”

“Yeah, me neither,” Ash muttered.

“Wait.” The gunny consulted her file. “Didn’t I read something about a girlfriend in the record? Yes, here it is. There was a girlfriend. She declined our approach.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ash flinch. He’d had a girlfriend, but she’d wanted nothing to do with him after he got wounded. That had to hurt.

“Um...well... I’m not that girlfriend,” I said. “I came after.”

Ash rumbled. “Lia...”

“Hard to believe that you two are in any kind of relationship.” Gunny’s shrewd little eyes shifted between Ash and me. “You don’t seem to like each other much.”

“We quarrel sometimes.” I groped for Ash’s hand. “But every couple does. Isn’t that true, honey?”

“
Honey
?” Ash’s hand went rigid in my hold. For a moment I feared the idiot would ruin my good work. He stared at me long and hard, bewildered blue eyes dark like the roiling sea. He was about to say something, when the gunny’s cell rang.

She looked at the number on the screen and got up. “Excuse me. I’ve got brass on the line. I’ll be right back.” She put her cell to her ear and stepped out of the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ash demanded as soon as the gunny was out of earshot.

“I’m trying to keep your ass out of that hospital you hate so much.”

“No way,” he said. “I don’t need your help.”

“You might be wrong about that.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve gotten away.”

“Excuse me for sparing your neck, not to mention your leg and Neil,” I whispered testily. “I’m sorry if you find the idea of me being your girlfriend insulting.”

“Insulting?” he said. “More like infuriating.”

“Well,” I said, “I couldn’t think of anything else and I didn’t hear a single, helpful, original thought coming from you.”

He let out an exasperated breath.

“It’s your choice,” I said, “If the idea rankles you so much, you can go back the hospital.”

“No.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

He hesitated. “I don’t want a pity girlfriend.”

“A what?”

“A pity girlfriend, you know, the girl that hangs out with the crippled grunt ’cause she feels sorry for him.”

I raised my hands to the sky and dropped them to my lap in frustration. “I can’t be your pity girlfriend,” I said. “It’s impossible.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because a, I’m not your real girlfriend and b, I don’t pity you.”

“Then why the hell are you trying to help me?”

“I told you, because your grandmother was very kind to me.”

“If that’s true, why did you throw me out?”

I groaned. “Because of this!”

“What?”

“This,” I said. “You ask too many questions.”

“Lady, I can’t keep up,” he said. “This conversation is giving me whiplash.”

“Hush.” I gestured toward the landing, where the gunny spoke on the phone. “Do you want to make this even harder than it is?”

“Look, Lia.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want your charity. I’m not that kind of a guy.”

“Fine,” I said. “Here’s the deal. I’m willing to rent you a room and I’ll sign on to be your caretaker—sorry, caregiver—until you’re able to be on your own. But I’ve got a couple of conditions and you’ve got to swear you’ll abide by them.”

He rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

“First, if we pull this off, you’ll go see the doctors and you’ll work hard to get better. This is a temporary arrangement, a limited-time engagement. Understand? The objective is for you to get well as fast as possible so that you can be on your own.”

“And out of your hair, I get that,” he said. “Here’s the trouble with all of this: I don’t believe in one-way tickets. What’s in it for you?”

“I get my rent, which I need in order to make ends meet. I also get the benefit of having you and Neil around to protect my rescued animals when I’m at work.”

He looked mildly encouraged. “You want me to shoot that mountain lion?”

“No, I don’t want you to shoot anything or anyone,” I said pointedly. “I just need you to protect my animals and keep the danger away, at least until Fish and Wildlife show up.”

“I could do that,” he said tentatively.

“I also need you to control your temper,” I said. “You’re moody and you’ve got a short fuse. You snap faster than a rubber band. I don’t like it. It frightens me.”

“Do you think I enjoy being angry?”

“It’s hard to be around you when you want to snarl and roar all the time.”

“Hell.” He slumped. “Is it that bad?”

I shrugged. I’d gotten through to him, but I’d also hurt his feelings.

“I could try, I guess.” He massaged his thigh. “I never did have a lot of patience, and these days I’m down to zero. What’s your other condition?”

“No more questions about me. Past, present or future.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re driving me crazy.”

He smirked, a shrewd half smile “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an illegal alien. You’re terrified you’re going to get deported.”

I flashed him my nastiest look.

“I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m
not
an illegal alien,” I said. “I was born in the USA and I’m going to die here if I can manage it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He frowned. “So if you’re not an illegal alien, what’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

“Me?”

“If this is going to work out, you’ve got to promise me—no more questions. Period.” I went mum as the gunny returned to the bedroom.

“That was your CO on the line,” she said. “He was pleased to learn that I found you. He suggested we could wipe the slate clean
if
you agree to fix your mess.”

“See?” I smiled at Ash. “All is not lost.”

“So,” the gunny said. “Where were we? Ah, yes, you star-crossed lovers were trying to convince me that the two of you were a pair.”

“Well, did we?” I asked.

“Oh, come on.” The gunny looked mighty skeptical. “You’re gutsy, but you’re a lousy liar. How long have you two been dating?”

“Not long,” I said. “It just happened, very fast.”

“Is that true, sir?”

“It was instant, really,” Ash muttered.

“Gunny,” I said, “this is probably the only conflict-free accommodation for all involved.”

The woman’s jaw set like a brick. “Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Gosh, no, no way, never.” I smiled sweetly. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for the very difficult job you do. But imagine what people would say around here if they heard that a wounded war hero had been sent back to the hospital or thrown in the brig because he wanted to heal at home.”

“What do we have here?” The gunny sneered. “A tiger in disguise?”

“Wow.” Ash glanced at me with genuine admiration. “She’s good.”

“Much better than you, sir.” The gunny contemplated her options for a moment. “The role of caregiver is demanding. Frankly, Ms. Stuart, I don’t know if you’ve got the mettle for it.”

If there was one thing that riled me at this point in my life, it was someone thinking that I was powerless, inept or incompetent.

“The major arrived here in a sorry state and look at him now,” I said. “The infection is a lot better. I’d say I’ve done the job.”

“Is that so, sir?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He actually smirked. “She’s got a gift for rehabbing animals.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

“All wounded marines are heroes in my book,” the gunny said, “but not all of them are agreeable. Major Hunter here might be less agreeable than most.”

“No kidding,” I said.

The gunny’s stare narrowed on me. “Are you doing this to get the stipend?”

“What stipend?”

“There’s a stipend,” she said, “for civilians who care for service personnel.”

“No,” I said automatically. “I don’t want any stipend.”

“By the looks of this place, you could use a few extra bucks.” The gunny pulled up a document on her screen and handed me the tablet, along with a stylus. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“No, thanks.” I refused the tablet. “That won’t be necessary.”

Ash started. “You might as well take the money.”

“I don’t want it,” I said firmly. “It’s fine as it is.”

“If you don’t want me to put in a subsidy request, that’s fine,” the gunny said. “But you still have to fill out the forms in order to register as an official caregiver.”

My name on a government document. Great. I needed that like I needed a bullet to the brain. But it was too late to backtrack now. I filled out the forms and penned my signature.

“You’ll also need to complete the online caregiver education program by the end of the month,” she said. “It’s optional for most people, but in this case, I need some serious CYA.”

“CYA?”

“Cover your ass,” Ash said. “Standard protocol for bureaucratic shit shifters.”

“Hilarious.” The gunny didn’t smile. “Major Hunter, sir, consider yourself a very lucky marine. If I were in your boots, I’d suck up to Ms. Stuart here. If she’s willing to vouch for you, then the least you can do is follow her instructions. You could also try to clean up, shave, get a haircut and stop howling at the moon. And if I catch a whiff of insubordination, negligence, or if you miss any of your appointments, it’s back to the hospital. Do you understand, sir?”

Ash glared. I elbowed him and he muttered an insincere, “Yes, ma’am.”