Chapter Ten

Wait a minute. A good old American, bright red fire engine had just roared up to the curb. The ground shook from its massive weight and engine power, and Jake calmed. Good glory in the morning. Red was good. The USA flag painted on its side proclaimed something every school kid in the United States knew. The good guys were here, and they were smart, too. The extra-long emergency vehicle blocked a good percentage of any sniper’s view of Jake’s hidey-hole. Several black and white police cruisers screamed to the scene. The front tire of one of them bounced onto the curb in its haste. Officers in heroic blue scrambled to the pavement.

Jake swallowed past the hard knot in his throat. I’m in America. Not over there. I’m home. His lungs opened wide to drink in the cold night air. Red, white, and blue. My favorite colors.

Panic taunted. Are you sure this isn’t Kabul?

He nodded to himself. All that mattered was that Emile was safe this time. She wouldn’t have to die tonight. He’d no more than thought that thought, when his heart shuddered to a stop at the flawed deduction his scrambled brain had just declared. Emile couldn’t die again because she was already planted at Arlington with Aiden Scott. Asleep. Forever. There were no do-overs. There’d never be another again.

Jake blew a deep breath of the here and now, shaken to his core at the quandary he was caught in. He hadn’t had an attack like this in a long time. The illusions always seemed so real when they hit. So damned real. Summoning up the last of his shaken courage, he turned to look closer at the woman behind him, the one he had pinned in the corner with his palm in the middle of her chest so she’d stay put.

It wasn’t Emile’s pretty blue eyes smiling back at him with that cocky attitude. It was Lacy’s ever greens. Worry crinkled her brow. Both of her tiny hands circled the wrist holding her in the only safe place he’d found.

Jake swallowed hard. That thumb of hers was fast at work on his wrist, rubbing a small circle of comfort while her forest green eyes pulled him out of the insanity of the hallucination and back into reality. She hadn’t let go of him. Better yet, she was all in one piece. No blood. No charred flesh. She had all her hair.

“I thought... I thought....” He shut up then, and scratched his fingernails down the side of his beard. It didn’t matter what he’d thought. None of it was real, and he’d done it again. Time warped. Made a flaming jackass of himself.

Lowering his hard and sweaty forehead to Lacy’s, he bumped it harder than he intended to. No matter how much he wanted it to be true, he hadn’t saved Emile. That chance was past. That time was over. But he had saved Lacy.

“Weylin!” Jamaal screamed from the steps just above where Jake huddled with Lacy, his big voice booming over the railing. “Where you at, buddy? Weylin! Say something to me! Where’s Miss Lacy?”

“Here,” Jake called out, raising his right hand to signal his position. His left hand hadn’t moved from Lacy’s waist. It was kind of wedged in between her and the building now, not that he minded the bricks scraping his skin away. The feel of her grounded him to this moment in time. This Sector 18. This war. Not that other one.

It was like living in a crazy time warp, caught between that other one where Emile had died and this one where Lacy lived. Jake didn’t know if he could keep bouncing back and forth between the two. Fear that he’d get stuck back in time haunted him. It could happen.

Jamaal ran down the stairs to them and instantly joined the huddle, kneeling on the sidewalk. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes wide and his big paws all over Lacy like he was checking for an injury. Funny. He didn’t seem to care if Jake was hurt, just brushed right by him and headed straight for the woman in the corner.

“Let her be,” Jake growled, brushing Jamaal’s overly solicitous attention off her face and head. “For hell’s sake, stop mauling her.”

“I ain’t mauling. I’m making sure is all.” Jamaal always was a hands-on kind of a guy, and it was beginning to piss Jake off.

“I said let her be,” he snapped.

“It’s okay, Jake,” Lacy murmured, her hand now soft and gentle on his tense jaw. “Let me up. You and Jamaal will keep me safe. I’ll be okay from now on. I know I will.”

She said the right words, but it didn’t always work that way, did it? Jake looked down into the purest emerald treasures. He’d just found her. What if he lost her before he ever got the chance to tell her how he felt? Like the last time? How could he live if anything happened to Lacy? He’d done it once before, but he wasn’t strong enough to go through that again. NO man was.

Finally, he had no choice. Jamaal pulled him to his feet and Lacy came along with him. “You kids sure you’re not hurt?” he asked, his big mitts brushing the snow off Lacy’s butt and down her legs.

“We’re good,” Jake said as he tucked her protectively under his arm where Jamaal couldn’t help her so much. She had more to fear from his buddy at the moment than anyone else. Jake dusted the snowflakes out of her hair. Good didn’t begin to describe the knot in his throat with her tight up against him like she was. Her warm palm in the middle of his pounding chest felt perfect.

The funny shine on Jamaal’s face caught Jake’s eye. The big guy had tears streaming down his face. Well, hell, yeah. Jamaal was there the day Aiden and Emile were killed, too. Maybe he was time warping? Jake had never thought of that before. He grabbed Jamaal’s wrist before the big guy manhandled Lacy anymore. “You okay, buddy?”

Jamaal ducked his head, avoiding direct eye contact, but he wiped his face with the back of his hand as he looked into the street and muttered, “Yeah, I’m always good after I damned near lose my best buddy and his girl to some crazy-assed bomber. Hell, no, I ain’t good! I’m mad is what I am!”

“It’s okay. No one was shooting and we didn’t get hit by any shrapnel,” Jake reminded him.

“Yeah, well…” Jamaal shrugged his grip off. “You two scared the crap out of me. I dropped my damned plate of spaghetti when I heard the explosion, and I come running.”

“I’ll make more the minute I get back,” Lacy assured him.

Jamaal shuffled his big bare feet on the icy sidewalk. Damn. The guy hadn’t even put his shoes on.

“You need to get back inside,” Jake said as his heart settled down to a manageable pace.

Jamaal leaned against the side of the stairs. “Not going anywhere ’til I know you’re safe.”

“My car,” Lacy said softly. “It’s gone. Guess I’ll be walking from now on.”

“No, you won’t,” Jake declared. “I’ll find a way. I’ll... I’ll….” I’ll call Zack. He’ll help me.

Lacy didn’t argue, just snuggled into his side like she belonged there. Damn, her pulse throbbed through her whole body. She might not look it, but she was plenty scared. “I’ve still got to get to the clinic. Fire Chief Balthazar is waiting for me. I told him I’d be there.”

“Ernie?” he asked, smoothing a hand over her head, needing to touch her, to feel her trust in him.

“You know him?”

“Sure. Everyone knows Ernie Balthazar. He’s one of the good guys,” Jamaal broke in. He waved at one of the boys in blue with one knee to the ground while taking crime scene photos with his camera. “Hey, Bro. Yeah, you! We got us a real important lady over here who needs to get to the Good Samaritan clinic” —he snapped his fingers— “right now. How about you jump up like a good boy, and give her a ride?”

Jake cringed. Jamaal’s big mouth would be the death of him someday, but asking a police officer to provide taxi service was too much. Calling him boy was another offense all together. Disrespect never ended well, even between two black men.

Sure enough, the officer shot Jamaal an aggravated look, but he did climb to his feet. “Just cuz I’m black doesn’t make me your brother, wise guy, and your lady friend’s not going anywhere. The clinic’s a crime scene. She needs to answer some questions.”

“She ain’t my lady friend. She belongs to him.” Jamaal stabbed a thumb at Jake. “Besides, I know all about the fire at the clinic cuz Captain Balthazar called her to come help him, only now her car blew up, and you’re standing there giving me a bunch of lip when you oughta be offering her a ride in your nice safe cruiser. Don’t you guys know nothing about customer service?”

The officer ignored Jamaal’s rant and strode over to Lacy, raking a suspicious eye over Jake. “Evening, Lacy. This is your car? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am, Kevin. It’s good to see you, but I’m sorry it had to be for something crazy like my car getting blown up. This is Jake Weylin,” she nodded toward Jake, “and this is Jamaal McCune. They’re staying with me for a while. Guys, this is Officer Kevin Madison. He’s a good friend of mine and one of Anacostia’s finest.”

When Kevin shot Jamaal and Jake another disparaging glance, Jake shifted from one foot to the other with Lacy still in his arm. He was beginning to feel persecuted.

“Sorry, Lacy. I don’t mean to pry, but we received an anonymous report right before the fire at the clinic. The caller said he’d seen two suspicious guys hanging around there tonight, and except for their clothes, these two fit the description. You mind telling me where they’ve been all day?”

“In my apartment,” she answered quickly. “A cabbie brought Jamaal to the clinic early today with a near concussion. He couldn’t stay there, so I brought him home with me at noon. He’s been asleep most of the afternoon, and Jake came to watch over Jamaal so I could go back to work. That’s why they’re in gray sweats from the clinic. Look at them, Kevin. A couple of guys beat them up earlier today, probably the same ones who torched Lamont’s Pool Hall, the clinic, and now my car.”

The young officer peeled his penlight off its belt holster and shone a spotlight right into Jake’s eyes. He squinted and lifted his hand to block the beam. “You always take your male patients home with you?”

“I do when my friends need help,” Lacy replied, her fingers squeezing Jake’s hand. She shot him a determined look. He winked automatically. She was certainly jumping out on a limb for him and Jamaal.

“Hmm. You do look like someone might’ve hit you a good one. You’d better get that eye looked at.” Kevin gave Jamaal the same once over with that damned bright light. “Who’s this guy to you?”

Jamaal shrugged, his hand in front of his face to block the light, too. “All I know is I was going to meet Jake for litter patrol this morning, only I ended up at Lacy’s apartment, and she just fed me the best damned spaghetti I ever tasted, and my head feels like it’s going to explode through the top of my head if you keep sticking that light in my face. You ever had spaghetti with kielbasa sausage?” He rolled his eyes. “Man, that’s some good stuff, brother.”

“I’m not your brother,” Officer Kevin hissed, a definite warning in his voice. “And what’s litter patrol? Some kind of community outreach program you two hooked up with?”

“No,” Jamaal declared, rubbing two fingers together. “It’s just something me and Jake do to make a little cashola. You know, coinage? We collect aluminum cans and Rowdy down at the Flying Angels buys it. It’s what gets us by.”

Kevin grunted. “What you mean is that it gets you a bottle. Listen, I’m going to let the two of you go, but only because I know Miss Wright, and her, I believe. You guys I’m not so sure about.”

“They’re Marines,” Lacy said proudly, and Jake could’ve kissed her. “They’re every bit as honorable as you are, Kevin. The only difference is they served, and you’re still serving.”

“Former Marines,” Kevin bit out.

“Ain’t no such thing as a former Marine. Can you give Lacy a ride to the clinic or not?” Jake asked before Jamaal ruined the trust Kevin had in Lacy by shooting his big mouth off again.

“I will as soon as I finish my report. You going with her?”

“I’d like t—”

“Yes. He is,” Lacy interrupted, her hand clenching his tightly once more. “We’re together.”

Officer Kevin looked as surprised as Jake felt. Once again, threatening brown eyes scrolled over him like a razor with a mission to get to the bottom of all things, but Jake didn’t shuffle his feet this time under Kevin’s intense scrutiny. Lacy’s quiet declaration might have come out of the blue, but it stirred that same protective feeling deep in his gut. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her hanging out with a shabby looking guy like him. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, his eyes pinned to Kevin’s to prove her point.

Kevin’s upper left lip lifted. He took a menacing step into Jake’s comfort zone. “You’d better take damned good care of Miss Wright,” he said, his voice laden with threatening promise. “Do you hear me? Lacy is one in a million, and I’m not convinced you deserve her.”

Neither am I. “Yes, sir,” Jake answered automatically. Hell, any fool could see he didn’t deserve her.

The police report didn’t take as long as Jake feared it might. Within the half hour, Officer Kevin, Jake, and Lacy were at the Good Samaritan crime scene. By the looks of the clinic, the fire had done only minor damage, most of it contained in the lobby. The front glass doors were shattered, but none of the staff was around, not even the swing shift crew. With Chief Balthazar standing at their heels, the medical examiner unzipped the body bag, and the time warp commenced sucking at his limbs and eyeballs, his stomach and his soul all over again. As much as he didn’t want to be there any more, Jake forced himself to breathe in slow and steady breaths. Lacy needed him in the here and now, not time warping to who knew where.

She gathered her hair over her right shoulder and peered down at the corpse. Whoever it was, the decedent’s wrists were wrapped behind its back with wire. Its ankles were restrained the same way. There was every possibility this guy had been burned alive while seated, possibly tied to a chair, only the chair had burned completely away. The flesh was burned off the blackened skull, leaving no hair, no eyeballs in the sockets, and a twisted, wide-open jaw that still seemed to be screaming for help.

It’s her. It’s Emile. That’s what she looked like, Panic stated emphatically.

But you’re holding onto Lacy, wise Logic intervened. It’s not Emile because she’s asleep at Arlington. She’s at peace, Jake. Let her be.

Logic always did have a euphemistic way about it. Jake nodded that he understood precisely where Emile now was even as he cringed at the gruesome sight. Letting his fingers clench Lacy’s shoulders, he wished he could identify the remains so she wouldn’t have to. Burned flesh was never an easy sight to take in.

The odor of the place taunted him with pounding flashbacks. One moment he was holding onto Lacy in Anacostia, the next he was back in Kabul, pissed and angry and sick at heart because he hadn’t saved Emile and Aiden. He loosened the fake collar on his sweatshirt and hung on tighter to Lacy, scared the moment he lost contact with her that he’d time warp for good. That he’d never find his way home.

Home. Funny. That was how he felt with Lacy. Safe and sound and—home.

“I don’t know who it is, umm, was,” she said in the quietest voice. “But he… he looks like he was scared when he died.”

An odd buzzing sensation swept up from Jake’s boots, all the way to the roof of his mouth. He clamped onto Lacy’s trembling shoulders and turned her away from the grisly scene before he lost control and the buzzing took over. “Why’d she have to come all the way down just to look at that?” he growled, casting a dark look at the fire chief. “There’s no way to positively ID anyone who’s been burned that badly.” And I would know.

Balthazar nodded sadly. “Maybe not, but I had to be sure. I also needed her to see this.” He led Lacy and Jake to the side of the building. Painted in red across the white concrete wall of the clinic was the threat: Lacy Wright Dies Next!