Tracked by Trouble (Bad Boys Need Love, Too #3) (18 page)

Wondering if training for a triathlon would help him run from his past, or away from love, Zed and Beck drove toward a café near his mom’s house to meet up with everyone for lunch. Afterward, Caitlin and family were to head over to his mother’s—something Zed had zero interest in doing—and Jace and his family had other commitments back in Port Townsend.

Beck had iced him out of any conversation or eye contact while preparing to leave. She’d been warm with everyone else, but not with him.

As they headed up the sparsely populated, rural road, the atmosphere veering toward sub-zero, Zed said, “I know I deserve your silence but it’s killing me, Beck. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“That’s not what people do who are trying to build a relationship.”

She still wouldn’t look at him, making him feel like trash. “Honey, please. This is all new to me—this building a relationship stuff. I told you I never formed attachments before. I’m already attached to you, big time.”

This earned a slight smile. If he took his eyes off the road for a sec and squinted he could almost make it out.

“Then, pony up with intel, cowboy.”

Zed braked for a stop sign. “Can it wait until I’m ready?” he asked the side of her head.

“How long do I have to wait?”

Zed drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “I don’t know. Let’s get through lunch. After that, everyone’s going their separate ways. It will give me time to sort things out. Deal?”

She turned to him at last and said, “Okay. Deal.”

Zed breathed out a sigh of relief.

Lunch turned out to be a lively affair consisting of tired, hungry kids, vying for attention, earning reprimands from their parents. Caitlin and Zoé each marched outside with their respective kids at various points during lunch, to calm them. Each strode back in with contrite children, ready to behave. No one got much conversation in since the focus was kept on the kids and their needs.

Afterward, Zed and Beck kept the conversation light and friendly in the truck as they drove back to Zed’s with Sidekick in tow. Once they arrived at his home, they sauntered in the house with the groceries they’d bought for preparing dinner later tonight. Zed had made a mental plan if she accepted his story—still accepted him—maybe he’d ask her to stay over. If not, oh well. At least they’d both be fed.

“Can I get you anything? Glass of wine? Beer? Tea?”

“White wine would be great. The weather’s so pretty, let’s sit outside.”

“Good plan. I’ll meet you out on the deck with drinks.”

When he stepped onto the redwood deck, beer and wine in hand, Beck sat with her gorgeous, lightly-freckled face turned toward the late afternoon sun. Her red and white shorts-clad legs were outstretched lengthwise on the porch swing and she looked like something an artist would study and paint, in ardent detail. The sunlight kissed her face and bounced off her beautiful red hair, water-falling over the arm of the swing, making her look like a fire goddess. She appeared to be in deep repose. Her upturned lips made him hungry for contact. He felt like an addict for those luscious lips.

Sidekick thumped the deck with his tail. He, too, lay sprawled in the sun, unwilling or unable to lift his head.

The fragrant scent of spring flowers wafted through the air, making it a perfect moment. In fact, Zed’s eyes grew moist as he gazed at the scene before him.
Probably dust in my eye,
he said, trying to cover his vulnerability. He sniffed.

Hearing him, she lifted her head with languorous ease, opening her brilliant eyes. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft and seductive.

“Hey,” he said. Flames of passion, hot and deep in his belly, stirred to life.

She sat up and patted the padded seat next to her. “Come here.”

Zed stepped willingly to her, handing her the wine. “To deeper connecting,” he said, tapping his beer to her glass.

“I second that,” she said. She took a small sip of her wine.

Zed took a long swallow of beer, gathering courage. He studied Beck, trying to determine if this was, indeed, the right moment to come clean.

Beck smiled, open and welcoming. She sipped her wine, looking through her eyelashes at him.

Damn. What did I do to deserve this beautiful woman?
He chewed on his lower lip. Rolled his bottle of beer between his palms. Stared at the slumbering dog as if the canine could provide courage. Sighed, and said, “So.”
Here goes.

“So,” Beck said, her tone light and teasing. “What’s on your mind?”

Zed took another long, long swallow of beer. “My brother threatened to kill me.”

Flashes of concern, care, and confusion skittered across Beck’s face, like swiftly moving clouds. “Why would he do that?”

“I overheard him being blackmailed. He murdered his spotter, took credit for kills made by the spotter on the battlefield, and received a medal of honor he didn’t deserve.”

Beck leaned forward in her seat, sparks radiating from her golden eyes. “What? Are you fucking kidding me? He betrayed his own military unit and took credit? If I hated him before, I despise him now. Those guys are out there fighting so we can live with ease and freedom. One of my cousins is in the Air Force. You don’t kill one of your own team. That’s completely fucked up.” She looked like she could shred his brother limb from limb with her bare hands.

“There’s more.” Zed finished his beer, wondering if he should get another.

“I’m here for you, baby.”

Kinder words had never been spoken. “When he threatened my life he had me in a public bathroom in San Diego. He told me to go get his payoff money. I wimped out and did it.”

“Jesus Christ, Zed! Didn’t you say your brother is a sniper? That’s a trained killer in case you didn’t know.”

Zed scoffed. “Of course, I know that. I’ve been hearing about his heroics for years.”

“Well, then,
of course,
you’d feel compelled to get his evil money. Jesus Christ!” she said again. “How did he…what did he do to the other soldier?”

“He shot him. Nicked his carotid artery with a bullet and left him to bleed out. The guy’s a crack shot, as you can imagine.”

Beck’s head shook side to side, looking like her head would explode from the information he divulged. “That’s so fucked up.”

“There’s more.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t remember some of it. I only have one piece. Remember I told you I got in an accident?”

“Yeah.”

“It happened that night. The night he threatened me.”

Beck gasped. “Zed! Honey!”

“Yeah, when I went to his hotel room to give him the payoff money he pulled a gun on me.”

“Oh my God. Oh, Zed.” Her hand wrapped around her mouth and her eyes went wide.

“I think something else happened but I don’t remember what it is. I’ve blacked out three times in the last few days. The first time I was with Mitch, this counselor dude. He helped Jace turn his life around and I, uh…my sister convinced me to go see him.”

“So she knows, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. She and Jace are the only two people who know. Well, and you, now.”

“I told her I was worried about you and she asked me why. When I told her why her lips formed a seal and she said she couldn’t tell me the reason. Said it was up to you to share. For a while I was mad at you both.”

Zed nodded. “I understand.” He glanced at his empty bottle, sunlight shining on the amber glass, making it sparkle, like Beck’s hair.

“Need another?” Beck asked.

“Maybe.” Zed stroked his soul patch. “It can wait. So anyway, I was with Mitch and he was doing something unorthodox with me.”

“Such as?”

Zed shook his head.
Not going to go there.

Beck frowned but didn’t push it.

“And when I passed out I had a memory of making my way to the parking garage in San Diego, sitting in the truck and someone came into the garage, broke my side window. That’s the last memory I have before my truck wrapped around a tree. The rest is a big black hole.” He reached for his beer bottle and tried to coax a few more drops from it. “The other two times were with you,” he said. He set the bottle down as if it were solid lead.

“No, flu, right?”

Zed shook his head slowly side to side.

“What happened today?”

He glanced sidelong at her, then looked into the distance at one of his gardens. Delicate purple tinged columbine blooms gently dipped and swayed in the breeze. Bees buzzed and busied themselves gathering pollen in the campanula. A couple dark-eyed juncos fluttered and hopped under the pink blossomed Lewisia. A hummingbird zipped from flower to flower in the huge cape fuschia plant, his ruby throat glistening like a jewel.
It’s funny how you can be all dramatic, dealing with life and death, and the world keeps ticking, beauty all around.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. Looked up at the trees. Cleared his throat again. “I thought I saw Lawson in the parking lot with a rifle pointed straight at you.” He turned to face Beck.

Her mouth parted, her breathing chuffing in rapid pants. “Could it have been him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. When we were walking…the first time you saw me go down…my mother had called to tell me Lawson’s taking early retirement from the Marines and entering the triathlon. I don’t know if he’s here now, or here in two months. But if anything were to happen to you…” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to keep the fucking tears from escaping his eyes…or from marching to the shed, getting out an axe and taking vengeance on some innocent tree.

“Sweet Jesus,” Beck breathed. “No wonder you’ve been so tense. Baby, I had no idea.”

Zed cleared his throat for the third time. “Every guy wants to protect the woman he…he cares for. It’s biology. It’s what makes us tick. Only, I can’t even protect myself. I’m afraid to turn him in—it’s my word against his and I wasn’t there. ‘Oh, hey, you know Lawson Farrell, one of your best snipers’?” he said in a sarcastic voice. “‘Well,
I
heard he killed his spotter in battle. Was I there? No. Anywhere in the vicinity? No. I’m just telling you what I heard in a bar in San Diego. You know how chatty soldiers can be when they’re on leave.’” Zed shook his head. “But I
know
he did it. Otherwise, why agree to the payoff? Another soldier—his blackmailer—watched the whole thing go down.”

“Why wouldn’t he turn him in?”

“Who knows? Maybe Lawson has some dirt on him. Maybe they’re in some sort of code of secrets, like they each hold the key to the other’s dishonorable discharge or worse, prison. Who the fuck knows?” Zed dragged a heavy hand through his hair. “And me, the cowardly brother, the non-decorated war hero, has big gaping holes where memories should be.”

“Stop calling yourself a coward. You’re nothing of the sort. It’s dissociative amnesia, I know it is,” Beck blurted. “Honestly, Zed, I’ve been madly researching the Internet, pouring over my notes from the training, looking at everything I can get my hands on. You’re either experiencing PTSD or repressed memories associated with amnesia.”

Zed frowned. “That’s what Mitch said.”

“He’s right. You can get those memories back. When you’re young like you are, they can be recovered, dealt with, and you can heal.”

Zed’s face screwed up. “Maybe I don’t want to remember. Maybe there’s a reason I can’t remember. Have you thought of that?”

Beck leaned closer and took both of his hands. “Babe, you can’t deal with what you don’t know. Maybe your brother threatened your life again. Maybe he tried to kill you in your truck. Maybe it’s cause for arrest or…or I don’t know, but it could be your ticket out of this mess.”

“I guess I never thought of that possibility.”

“You’re with me, now, babe. There’s power in numbers, especially when the numbers are aligned, like us.” She looked at him earnestly, apparently believing what she said.

Zed wanted to stop talking, kiss her passionately and take her to bed, here and now. But he figured they may as well finish the talk they’d begun. There would be time enough to show her how he felt about her response to him.

“I know a guy who might be able to help you, Zed. He’s a skilled psychologist…skilled in dealing with trauma, PTSD and dissociative amnesia. I found out about him at the training. He just so happens to be in Seattle.”

“I don’t know. It makes me feel like a freak to think about going to a shrink.”

“Sweetheart, don’t think that way. All kinds of people are subject to PTSD or dissociative amnesia. It’s the body’s coping mechanism to trauma which you’ve experienced. There’s help for it, whether you’re a marine or a civilian. The help is there so you can heal. You owe it to yourself to get some professional care. You owe it to us. I want you whole and happy, not fractured. This is the kind of thing I live for.” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke vehemently on his behalf.

“I…I don’t know what to say, Beck. I’m not used to this kind of support. It’s kind of bewildering to take in, if I’m honest about it.”

Beck nodded. “I understand. But I believe in my heart we met for a reason. And the reason is so you can heal and get on with your life…with me. Let’s put this to rest. Let’s deal with this together and come out on the other side, healed, whole and better for the experience of having worked through it as a team.”