Jo-Jo: I had fun last night.

Abby Girl: Me too

Jo-Jo: I leave on the 5^th. Come see me off?

Abby Girl: That’s the first day of term.

Jo-Jo: Oh. So you’re busy?

Abby Girl: I can’t skip the first day of class.

Jo-Jo: Alright. Have fun in college, I guess.

Abby Girl: Are u mad or something?

Jo-Jo: I was just hoping to see you before I left. They are sending me to Fallujah.

Abby Girl: Stay safe.

Jo-Jo: That’s it?

Abby Girl: Joey, come on. I’ve got college, you’ve got the military. Last night was fun, but life moves on.

Jo-Jo: You’ll write me, yeah? I’m not sure we will have text service over there.

Abby Girl: Yeah, I’ll try.

Jo-Jo: Promise me you will?

I was still riding my high from the night before with Abby when I exited the mini-mart, hot coffee in hand, thinking about the last time I talked to her after high school. She’d kept that promise at least, to try to stay in contact, but it hadn’t lasted long. Not that it was entirely her fault, I tried to remember—it had been hard to keep up with a text message in a warzone with people who want to kill you. I didn’t regret one minute of our lost time, though. Having her in my arms, finally, was the sweetest thing I could ever come home to. If last night was any indication, I knew she felt the same.

I tucked the steaming black coffee between my legs and started the truck engine. The cashier had frowned at me when she saw my coffee was black. In fact, she tried to tell me where the creamer was. Disgusting. I didn’t spend eight years in the Marines to not learn how to drink coffee like a real man.

Last night I’d shown Abby what a real man was, that’s for sure.

God, I just couldn’t get her out of my head. She was ten times more beautiful without that dress on. The image of her voluptuous body curving under my fingertips was burned into my brain. As a result, I couldn’t stop smiling this morning. I could finally pinpoint how I felt this morning: it was like my first Christmas coming home after eight years without one; and Abby had been the best present of all.

Abby had broken some promises in the past, but when I had promised to make her feel alive, you can bet your ass I was cashing in on that. And I did a few times.

So yeah, I was feeling pretty damn good this morning, despite the fact we slept only about four hours last night. My only regret was it was Sunday and I knew she wouldn’t let that happen again until next weekend; her job meant too much to her. But a week of class knowing exactly what was under her dress? While hearing her lecture about old, dead, white dudes? Ugh, the torture. But then again, I wasn’t going to object.

My phone vibrated in the little holder on the dash. I’d have hell to pay at home; I missed the call last night when my mother and father had called and wanted to know where I was. I cursed myself for not sending them a text, but, well, I’d been distracted. Home three months from the Marines, and not once had I not been in bed by eight at night. It wasn’t like I was out skipping school or doing drugs. I’d never touched drugs in my life for that matter, and I fully planned on finishing my homework as soon as I got home.

The phone rang now, which was rare. Even my parents texted me, and my technology-challenged mother even preferred email as texts often confused her.

I pulled the truck back into park before I’d even backed out of the parking spot and reached for the phone.

I frowned at the caller ID. Abby? I’d left her house not an hour ago. Why would she call me so soon? I smiled, thinking maybe she couldn’t live without me. Things were moving fast, I’d admit, but last night had been the best night of my life. I made a mental note to tell her that the next time I saw her, but maybe not over the phone. A little part of me was worried, however, as I knew Abby hated phone calls as much as I did. I slid to answer as quickly as I could.

“Ab? Everything okay?”

Her broken sob on the other end, and her distraught announcement that Zoey was gone, tore my heart to pieces. Without even waiting to hear where she was, I peeled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, cutting some guy off in a Cadillac. Hot coffee spilled over the tight lid and onto my jeans as I hung up the phone. Yelping, I rolled down my window and tossed the entire thing out my window. It probably hit the caddy’s windshield. I didn’t care.

Zoey had been kidnapped.

There was no doubt in my mind that Evan’s crazy family was mixed up in this.

I briefly wondered how she’d got to her parents’ house so quickly but figured someone had taken her to her car or something and dismissed it. It took precisely six minutes before I pulled up behind her car. I hadn’t been here in eight years, but boy, did it look the same. The same abandoned planters were stacked in front of the house, a crazy art project her mother took up our Freshman year, although the pale green paint had been refreshed at some point on the house. A faded red birdhouse, Abby’s shop project in tenth grade, swung in the spring breeze from a branch on the tree in the front yard. That sapling had grown a lot in the last ten years.

I could see Abby was still sitting in the front seat of her car, which confused me for a minute, but I didn’t have time to waste. I pulled open her car door and she looked up at me. Her hair, still damp from her shower earlier, was all disheveled and frizzy now. She pushed the mop of hair from her eyes and got out of the car, stumbling into me.

I held her tight, wrapping my arms around her as she cried into my shoulder. We had always been the same height, but now she was slumped, and her head fit perfectly against me. I held her hair away from her face and tried to get a word of comfort out, but my mouth had gone completely dry.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” No response from her. “Abby. Did you call the police yet?”

“They just left,” she sniffed, looking up at me.

The rings around her eyes I’d seen this morning were much deeper now. “Do you want to go home?” I asked softly. “I’ll take you.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I should stay here. The cops might come back with more questions.”

“Abby!”

I hadn’t noticed her sister was running toward us. “I got my shift covered. What’s going on? Where’s Mom?”

Abby pulled away from me and hugged her sister instead. I stood there, feeling oddly like a third wheel, an invader, as Abby spilled the details to her sister. Details I hadn’t heard yet, so I listened intently, especially when she briefly mentioned our run-in with Evan’s mother and brother yesterday.

Malachai. My fists balled at my side. I knew it!

“Joseph Harrison!”

My head snapped up as I saw Abby’s father, who I remembered had run one of the banks in town but looked oddly casual today in a long-sleeved thermal shirt and plaid pajama pants, strode toward me. His face was red as he yanked up his sleeves, piling them around his elbow.

He was angrier than a pissed-off insurgent, and that triggered me into combat mode. I shoved my hands behind me and stood up straight as he approached.

“Is it true? Did you hit Malachai Years yesterday at Marlita’s?”

“Dad!” Abby yelled, and he stopped at the edge of the driveway to look at her, then back at me.

Ten feet between us, and though he had twenty years on me and easily sixty pounds, when it came to his daughters, no distance was enough. I switched combat mode off as quick as I could and decided on another strategy. I threw up my hands in front of my chest and backed up. “I didn’t hit him. Didn’t Abby tell you? He was in her face. I neutralized the situation.”

“Don’t use those military words on me, boy,” he spat at me. “Did you ever think maybe it would anger him and he’d do something like this? Take my granddaughter from my own home?”

I blinked. My upheld fingers twitched as if my finger was on a trigger. I’d been trained to shoot, not negotiate. But this was Abby’s dad, a man I certainly didn’t want to harm. Besides, I knew he had the double whammy: kidnapping and breaking and entering. Even I could tell he wasn’t just angry, but scared.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize.”

“You need to leave,” he huffed, taking another step toward me.

“I believe that’s up to Abby,” I started to say.

“How did he get here so fast, Abby?” her father turned to her, but he stepped even closer to me. “And why didn’t you answer your phone this morning?”

“I, uh…” Abby stuttered.

“Your mother saw him hugging you. What’s going on, Abby?”

I couldn’t have him turn his ire on her, too. I stepped in front of her, with her car to my back. “She didn’t answer her phone because she was with me!”

Shit. Why did I say that?

Behind me, Abby gasped.

I’d underestimated him, and Abby’s noise had distracted me. His threw his fist up, aiming straight for my face, and this time, I didn’t have time to duck.

For a pudgy banker, he hit damn hard.

“Dad, no!” I heard Abby scream.

Cursing, I stumbled back into Abby’s car, bracing myself against the slick hood. He didn’t hit me hard enough to break my nose, but as I wiped my hand over my face it came back with a trickle of blood. I pressed my shirt to my face. My face exploded with pain, but I’d had worse.

“Just go, Joey!” Abby yelled, and I blinked as I saw her and Lettie struggling to hold her dad back. Twenty feet away, her mother stood on the porch, her hands pressed to her mouth in silent horror.

I shook my head and stood my ground. “I won’t leave, Abby, not when Zoey is still out there!” I managed to announce even though my head was pounding now, and my voice muffled through my shirt.

Abby let go of her father and pushed me away from her car. “Go! I’ll call you as soon as there’s any news!”

Defeated, I knew I couldn’t stay, not with her father still glaring at me from his driveway and huffing like another punch was in order. Reluctantly, I got in my truck and headed down the road to the highway and then to my parents’ house.

The house was empty when I got home, thankfully. My parents, avid church goers, would still be in service at this time of the morning. Some days they didn’t even get back until the afternoon if they went to play card with church friends. Thankfully, they’d stopped making us go to church around high school, and of the four of us, I didn’t think any of us ended up religious at all. I thought about my estranged brothers: the new term would still be in full swing for Randy, Mike would be enjoying his weekend off, and Kelly? Who knows? I hadn’t heard from him in a few years. He still talked to my mother, but being a busy surgeon at the other end of the country didn’t leave him room to talk to his brothers, I guessed.

All these thoughts rumbled around my brain, but I still couldn’t get Abby’s face out of my mind. Her look of horror when her dad hit me, and her frustration at shoving me away. I knew she didn’t have much of a choice but driving away had been hard. How could I leave her like that?

As I let myself in the back door, I wondered briefly where Juney was. Out with friends, I guessed, as she almost always was when she wasn’t locked in her bedroom. Would Lettie text her what happened? Should I text her?

I shook my head, knowing no one could see me. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all my snotty teenage sister. She’d just ask why I hadn’t hit back.

I don’t think any of them knew how much the Marines had changed me. In high school I never backed down from a fight, but eight years taught me a fight was usually the worst way to solve a problem. At times, I wished our politicians knew that.

I grabbed a beer, dismissing my father’s demand for payment, which he surely would later, and guzzled it in one gulp, tossing the empty can in the garbage. I stood staring at the sink full of dishes, odd that my mother would leave them in such a state. She hated an untidy house, always had. To take my mind off Abby and Zoey, I unloaded the dishwasher and piled in the dirty dishes, starting it with a flick of the button.

I checked my phone, but no messages from Abby, just one from Randy: Death Knell, dude.

Can’t, homework, I texted back.

Lame, he answered.

I know, right? I itched to tell him what was happening, or at least share my events of last night, but I didn’t know how much of it was mine to share.

You missed an awesome raid last night. Where were you?

I panicked. Uh, busy, dude.

Like with a girl or what?

Yes, like with a girl, if you must know.

Oh sweet! Anyone I know?

I paused. Randy was in school two-hundred and fifty miles away. Surely, he wouldn’t be talking to anyone here, right? You remember my friend from high school, Abby Y… I backed that up. I didn’t know if Randy knew what happened with Evan, and I didn’t want to explain it. Abby Jameson?

You banged Abby, that girl you hung out with in high school? Finally!

WTF, Randy.

Mike and I had a bet on it in high school. I mean, I was like twelve, but whatever. We all knew it. Even mom wanted it to happen.

STFU, I texted back. He was making me angry. Sure, back then, Abby and I had flirted a little, even kissed once or twice, but we were never like that. Were we? Or had I just never let it happen because back then I’d been a shallow prick? The image of Abby under me, gripping my arms as her face twisted in her bliss was a memory I didn’t ever want to forget. Why had I waited so long to show her how I felt? Well, I was an idiot.

Randy’s next text startled me: Lol. High five, Jo. You’re a chubby chaser now.

I stared at the phone and resisted the urge to tell him to shut up, or better yet, call him and give him a piece of my mind. Abby wasn’t thin, but she wasn’t—oh, goddamn it. I was mad now.

Yeah, well. Abby is special to me, so keep your thoughts to yourself, bro.

Whoa! Alright, Jo. I’ve got a raid. I’ll be on later if you want to play.

Go do your homework.

Same back at ya, bro.

I sighed and tossed my phone on the table. Homework. That was a good idea to get my mind off Abby. I grabbed my backpack from my room and spread it out on the kitchen table. History, business, college success. A reflection paper, two quizzes. I’d be done in no time.

Unfortunately, my phone buzzing woke me about an hour later. I had passed out right at the table on top of my four-inch thick business textbook that I didn’t even crack open. Wiping my eyes, I scrolled through notifications. A number I didn’t recognize had called, and I’d slept through it. My mother texted to say they’d be having dinner with the Johnsons from church. Another text from Abby. I dialed her number immediately.

“Abby, I got your text. Please tell me it’s good news.”

“I’m at the police station,” she said, her voice more tired and haggard than ever. “They found Zoey.”

My heart nearly stopped. She didn’t sound happy about it. “Please tell me she’s okay?”

“She’s fine, unharmed. About twenty minutes after you left, Cheryl actually brought her down here. She claims she had no part in Malachai snatching her.”

“I knew it,” I interrupted.

“Look, Officer Knowles has tried to call you. They need you down here. For a statement and something else.”

“What?” I asked, remembering that unrecognized number.

“Just get down here, Joey. As soon as you can.”

“I’m on it.” We hung up.

I slid my homework into the textbooks and stacked them neatly on the table. I wondered what else they needed—and prayed they didn’t let me in the same room as Malachai. I wasn’t sure this time I’d only tackle him to the ground for what he’d done to Abby.

Officer Knowles was a remarkably nice man, I found out, and a Marines veteran of fifteen years. His company had been in Afghanistan, he shared, and he’d been airborne. I winced. He was lucky to be alive, though I didn’t say that out loud. We shared the look that only two military brothers could, and he got right to business.

I’d only seen Abby for about two seconds as I came into the police station. She was holding a sleeping Zoey, who looked no worse for wear. As soon as I saw them both, relief washed over me, and I felt my muscles relax. Even the pain in my face—though I knew I’d have a bruise tomorrow—had mostly ebbed away. I had nodded at Abby and followed the officer back to his desk.

“I’m sorry to report that Malachai Years is at large,” Officer Knowles got right to the point. “His mother, Cheryl, waited for him to fall asleep before she took the child and came here. When we got to their place, it was empty.”

“Yes, I heard,” I said, remembering Abby’s brief text from earlier.

He leaned back in his chair. “Abby’s been here filing all the paperwork for the restraining order, and we are retaining Mrs. Years, Cheryl that is, until we can get to the bottom of this.”

I motioned for him to continue, though I fought hard to keep my face neutral. It was still difficult to think of Abby as a Mrs.

“Problem is, Cheryl gave us some disturbing news. It seems Malachai has made some verbal threats—aimed at you.”

“I’ve been to Fallujah three times,” I said, shrugging. “I’m currently living at my parents, but between my father and I, we’ve got, uh, protection.” I trailed off. I wasn’t actually sure my father’s guns were all registered, but I knew where every single one was in the house.

Officer Knowles held up his hand. “I’m afraid that’s not the point. You’re both in danger, and even if we sent a patrol to both of your houses, we can’t protect you as much as we’d like. You see, when Abby told me you were a veteran, I had a thought, about safety, for both of.”

“You want me to stay with her.”

“Well, it’s not an order.” He eyed me. “But from what I gather, you’re in a relationship with her, and this could work to our advantage.”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “Did Abby say that?”

“Not in so many words, no. She just listed you as an alibi. Due process questioning, and all that, ya know? And while we’re at it, you were with her yesterday, all day, and overnight as well?”

I nodded. “I left about nine this morning.”

He checked some paperwork on his desk. “That’s after the child was reported missing, so both you and Mrs. Years—sorry, Abigail—are safe on this front.” He smiled, but it was short lived. “Look, let’s get down to this. I know you said you’re at your parents, and we don’t have the resources to follow all of you at all times. It’s just safer if you stay at Abigail’s residence, at least make sure she and Zoey aren’t alone. Of course, we will have an unmarked detective parked outside twenty-four hours a day for protection, at least until we find Malachai. Do you understand?”

I nodded slowly. I wasn’t sure Abby would like this. “Does Abby know?”

“She’s not happy. She divulged to me that you’re her student, is that correct?”

“Yes. She’s worried about her job.”

He waved his hand and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the school would understand it’s for safety reasons. I’ll make a few calls if I need to.”

I forced myself to smile. This whole situation was awful—I’d be on high alert, and so would Abby. It would be a tense few days, and that worried me. “I appreciate it. We also need patrol at Zoey’s daycare, as clearly, Abby and I have class.”

“We’re already on it.” He stood and offered me his hand, which I shook.

“So, just life as normal for a few days, eh?” I asked.

He shrugged. “We’ll try our best to find him. I’m sorry I can’t offer much else.”

“Alright, thank you.” I turned to go. “By the way—thanks for your service, man.”

“And you as well.”

Another officer walked me back to the front. I strode to Abby and took Zoey from her. She sighed and thanked me. The dark lines under her eyes, combined with the sleep neither of us got last night, spoke volumes. We didn’t talk as we walked to her car, and I buckled the sleeping toddler into the back seat. I kissed her soft forehead and brushed her blonde hair from her face.

Abby eyed me, her tired face worried and anxious.

I resisted the urge to pull her close to me. The tension was thick in the air, but so were her boundaries at the moment. “Mind if we stop at my house, first? I need to grab my homework,” she chuckled a little at that, “and some clothes. Then I’ll follow you to your house.”

“You agreed to Officer Knowles proposition, then?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I agree with him; it’s safer for all of us until they catch this asshole.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get going. The sooner we are both in bed, the better.”

I knew she wasn’t including me in that, and despite the stress of the day, that made me sad.

Back at my house, I hurriedly left a note for my parents, telling them I’d explain more tomorrow, then packed my backpack as full as I could with books, papers, pens, and clothes. From under my bed, I pulled out the locked case with my Glock 19. It was my first purchase after getting out, and thank God, I’d never even fired it. After years of sleeping next to my M-16, the Glock just made it easier to sleep at night. I prayed I’d never have to use it, but I’d feel better knowing it was in Abby’s house and accessible.

Sure enough, Abby objected. “I don’t care what it is, that’s not going in my house,” she said from her window as I locked the front door behind me.

“This isn’t a negotiation, it’s a warzone,” I told her.

“It’s not a warzone. The cops will catch him.”

“And if they don’t?”

She looked at me, helpless.

I threw the pack and gun in the truck’s side door. “I’ll see you at home, Abby.”

She glared at me before driving away.

Well, welcome to the suck, I thought. She was right; it wasn’t a warzone, but damn, why did I feel like I was back in Fallujah again with people who wanted me to drop dead?