Chapter Twenty-Eight

When she finally came out of her room, her apartment felt like a morgue. The phone refused to ring. Zack’s wife had to be the most spoiled woman on earth. A man who could and would cook was rare, but a man who cooked from scratch? One in a million.

“Tell me what happened to Jake in Sector 18,” Lacy asked as she sipped at her bowl of soup, but only to make Zack happy. He’d worked hard. Someone needed to pretend they appreciated it.

“You probably saw it on the news over here,” he said quietly, his bowl untouched. “‘Jihadist Dies at Camp Eggers Front Gate’ or some bullshit headline like that.”

She wasn’t so immersed in gloom that she couldn’t detect his sarcasm. “You don’t like the press.”

“No, ma’am, I do not. The headline should’ve said ‘Two More Heroes Gave All.’”

Lacy agreed. The press corps of the world had yet to realize who protected their right to free speech. In her protection detail, she’d seen firsthand how important the sensational side of their business was. The reporters she’d been assigned to guard thought they were the celebrities instead of the real stars in front of the camera, the guys who’d put their lives on the line or died. They sure as hell didn’t do it for the by-line. A good reporter was few and far between.

“So what happened? Were you there?”

“No.” He stretched his legs, as tired from sitting as she was. “There is no Sector 18. It’s one of those nicknames we gave jobs we didn’t like. You’re Marine issue. You know how it is. Sector 18 was anything Army related, in this case, Camp Eggers in Kabul. A couple of Jake’s guys took out a radical bomber at the front gate. The asshat thought he could drive through with a shitload of explosives. Jake was there when it happened, standing only a few feet away. He’s had Sector 18 mixed up with Anacostia since he got home. Once in a while, he grants himself leave and visits my place over in Maryland, but he never stays long. He’s still on duty.”

“He was on alert the whole time he was here.” Lacy’s gaze strayed to the position Jake had assumed on the floor. He’d had a good view of the entire apartment except her bedroom behind him. “So tell me about him. What was he like before?”

“One helluva hell-raiser,” Zack said proudly. “We served in Iraq together. You know how it is. You make friends with every deployment, but some leave an impression. Jake’s one of those. The first time I met him, he’d just dragged in off a three-week remote. Couldn’t say where he’d been, but the man wanted a drink, and I knew a guy…” Zack’s big shoulders lifted. “We were both different people back then.”

Lacy knew the story. Despite rules against drinking while deployed to that part of the world, booze wasn’t hard to come by—if you knew a guy.

A big smile wrinkled Zack’s forehead. “He ever tell you where he’s from?”

“Not yet.”

“A little town west of Little Rock, Arkansas. His folks own a small dairy herd there and his grandparents raise chickens.” Zack held up four fingers. “He’s got three sisters and one brother. Don’t think he’s talked to any of them since he’s been back.”

Lacy let Zack talk.

“His Granddad’s a bible-thumping preacher who makes his own moonshine. You’d like him. I met Jim once. A better man hasn’t been born yet, ‘less it’s Jake.”

“He asked me to paint one of his friends home. Emile, I think he said her name was.”

Zack’s lashes lowered. “Emily, but she spelled it Emile. Guess she figured if everyone thought she was a guy on paper, she’d get the same treatment as the rest of her squad. Jake always claimed she was a pain in the ass, always trying to prove herself bigger and badder. Always calling him Sarge.”

“But he cared for her?”

“Yeah. That was what pushed him over the edge, seeing her die like she did. He thought he could handle it. Like a dumbass, he ignored the signs and took another tour in Iraq. That was where he lost his shit. They sent him home, but he never made it past a week in Walter Reed. Women shouldn’t be in combat, damn it,” Zack growled.

“We’re not all cheerleaders sitting on the sidelines, you know,” Lacy said softly. “We bring our own brand of courage to the fight, and we fight like hell.”

He blew out a heavy sigh. “I get that, Lacy. Honest to God, I do. You’re smart. Hell, women are better snipers than a lot of guys I worked with, but it doesn’t change a man’s gut instinct to protect you women. Shit. You’d have to be one damned butched-up, tobacco-spitting female before I’d let anyone hurt you. I don’t care if it’s not politically correct, it’s the way we’re made.”

She had to smile. As tough as she’d been in the Corps, there was still a part of her that wanted a man to hold the door and watch out for her. To protect her. She also wanted him to know she could and would take care of herself, and that he’d better not disrespect her even though he could throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. But that night her car blew up, when Jake had her cornered, ready to die for her? So. Damned. Hot.

“How long have you known Jake?” Zack had a way of looking through her, like he had an instinct for crazy people or something.

Her lukewarm broth suddenly needed more cooling down, so she blew on it instead of meeting those dark chocolate eyes. “That’s debatable. He’s been watching over me for a couple years, maybe longer. I’d see him on the corner in the morning on my way to work. He never waved, just watched me drive by. At first he spooked me, you know, because he was always there. Watching. Staring. Guess he couldn’t figure out why a mixed-up white woman moved into his Sector 18.” She tipped the bowl up to her mouth and finished it off to make Zack happy.

“You didn’t move into his territory,” he said resting his palm on his knee. “Sector 18 only runs from Eighteenth Street west to Good Hope, and north to the river.”

Damn. So Jake had gone out of his comfort zone to keep watch over her? Lacy’s gaze hit her bowl again, only the broth was gone. She couldn’t very well blow on an empty bowl, could she? Now she’d have to explain.

“The first time Jake actually talked to me was the day we met, the time he’d brought Jamaal in for stitches. I think I embarrassed him. He got this funny look on his face, kind of like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.”

Zack offered a dark chuckle. “That’s my boy. Women scare the hell out of Jake. So why are you here?”

It was funny how in the darkest night the smallest word means everything. A word like scare—not scared. “I’m hiding from my parents,” she admitted honestly.

“Your father is Allen Wright.”

She looked up at that quietly spoken truth. Zack already knew exactly who she was. Daughter of a wealthy banker. Local female war hero goes wacko. Yeah. There’d been a headline that day, too.

“Yes, he is. I had a meltdown when I got home. They took an extreme measure. I bailed. Been living here ever since. They think I’m crazy.” Maybe I am. Please don’t tell anyone you found me. “But I think I’m going to be okay.” Or I was...

“You’re not any crazier than the rest of us. You did a damned hard job for a thankless nation, and like a lot of soldiers and Marines, you came home to zilch. You’re entitled to scream at the world any time you want. If screaming’s your thing, let the whole damned world hear you loud and clear. You are a Marine, aren’t you? Let ’er rip.”

“Do you? Scream?” Go crazy?

He shrugged a shoulder. “No. I lift. Workout. Started hitting the weights when I was in Iraq. Too much down time between skirmishes. You know how it is. Lifting gave me a way to burn out the stress before it got the best of me.”

“Did your parents, umm, did they understand?”

Zack met her gaze evenly. “Yes, they both did. My dad served in the Corps like I did. He and my mom still live in Florida, but he’s from Jamaica. He’d signed up to become a Marine before he became an American citizen, and that’s where I learned to salute the flag. At MCBQ.”

Marine Corps Base Quantico.

“So you followed in your dad’s footsteps?”

He sent her a sharp affirmative. “Yes, ma’am. It was all I ever wanted to be, just like my dad.”

Talking with Zack felt good. He didn’t give her any crap, just accepted who she was, and he was Jake’s friend. A breath eased out of her. A lot of stress went with it. “I paint,” she told him.

His brows lifted. “Cool. You’ll have to show me your work sometime.”

“I did one of Jake this morning. Would you like to see it?”

“I’d like that very much,” he said somberly, and there was the deal. Zack felt as badly as she did about not finding Jake. He wanted to be out there searching, not stuck nursing her, and she knew it.

“You don’t have to stay here. You can leave. I’ll be okay.”

His left top lip quirked in a gentle smile. “Don’t go pulling that bullshit on me. Jake finally did something smart. There is no way I’m leaving the pretty lady he fell in love with, not on a crappy night like this. I’m fine. Go get your painting. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

By the time she was finished, Lacy showed him all of her works, not just the snowflake heart.

“My hell,” he said with definite awe in his voice. “You need to let the world see these. They’re unbelievable.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. Never. They’re private. I won’t betray my buddies. Besides, the world doesn’t care.”

“But these guys’ and gals’ families do. Hold a private showing, Lacy. Let them see their sons and daughters, husbands and wives, their moms and dads, one more time. It would mean everything to know someone cared enough to paint them home. God, help the world remember them. Their service.”

Oh, that. Lacy gulped one of her extra noisy gulps. Zack made a good point. Maybe Terry’s mother in Oklahoma wanted the pink rose her daughter had left behind for her. Maybe it would help to know that Terry’s last thought was of her mom and family. Maybe others do care.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she murmured. “I just paint. I don’t know the business side of being an artist.”

“Let me take care of that.” Zack almost sounded hopeful. “I know a lady who knows a few people in the right places. The day ever comes you’re ready, you just—”

His cell phone vibrated on his belt holster, and Lacy stopped breathing. His face hardened and his words told the rest of the story. “Sorry. The Coast Guard called the search off until the storm clears out. Zero visibility. They can’t work in this weather.”

Her heart dropped. “So nobody’s looking for Jake?”

He shook his head and—enough! Lacy jumped off the couch and ran. She couldn’t get to Jake’s pillow fast enough.