Chapter Two
Vince rotated his aching shoulder, scowling at no one in particular. Why the hell did the hospital have doors that opened into the corridor?
Icing on the cake from his day from hell.
The woman sure was pretty, though…
Focus. Dom was one floor up, and the reason Vince was in Georgia. Not to find a date.
Arriving at the elevator lobby, he eyed the people milling about and decided to use the stairs. He needed to get to Dom soon. His thickheaded brother would try to leave to get back to his men, no matter what kind of injuries he suffered. And since Vince had no idea what those injuries were, other than non-life-threatening, he increased his pace.
An image of the cute brunette flashed through his mind again as he took the steps two at a time. Color had risen into her cheeks, deepening the blue of her horrified gaze. It would take a hell of a lot more than a door to do any actual damage to him. Something she’d never know, since the chances of running into the beauty again were slim to none.
Forcing her out of his mind, he concentrated on his brother.
A brother whose grumbling Vince heard echoing down the hall the instant he stepped onto the floor.
“I don’t need any damn pain medication. Just give me my gear and shove me on a plane.”
Relief eased the tightness from Vince’s shoulders. His brother would be fine.
“You won’t do your men any good with cracked ribs, a dislocated hip, or back spasms.” A calm, tolerant, feminine voice drifted out as Vince neared the room. “You need therapy if you want to be cleared to join them on the next mission.”
“Next mission?” his brother’s voice boomed. “What the hell, Doc? I can’t just sit around. I’m not made that way. I’m fine. Just clear me so I can get the hell out of here and do my job.”
“Sorry, Captain Acardi,” the doctor said, her tone still calm and patient. “You’re asking me to not do my job, and I’m not made that way.”
Hovering just outside the room, Vince smiled. Two points to the doctor for using his brother’s words against him.
“If you want me to clear you, then you’ll come here four times a week for therapy.”
“Four?” Dom asked. “Why not seven?”
A soft chuckle drifted into the hall. “I appreciate your sudden enthusiasm, but I want you to heal, not overtax the muscles and cause more damage.”
As much as Vince was enjoying his brother’s losing verbal battle, he decided it was time to make his presence known.
With the smile still on his lips, he braced for the impact of his brother’s injured appearance and entered the room. “My apologies, Doctor. Dom was born with an oversize PITA gene he never did learn how to control.”
The doctor lifted a perfectly arched brow as she met his gaze. “And you are?”
“Vince Acardi.” He extended his hand. “The PITA’s older brother.”
“Dr. Palmer,” she replied, shaking his hand.
Average height, auburn hair pulled back in some sort of a bun, green eyes full of intelligence. Pretty in the kind of way his brother had a weakness for. Dom always did have a soft spot for redheads, but his charms were clearly not working on this woman.
Which probably explained Dom’s grimace. That…and pain from his injuries.
Jesus, he was mess. Taped ribs. Cut on his cheek. Bruises on his forehead that matched the bruising on his arms and chest. Eyes sunken in a face with skin that appeared too tight.
“Don’t worry,” he said, releasing her hand. “I’ll make sure the PITA is at therapy four times a week, and that he takes his medication like a good soldier.” Vince suppressed a grin when his brother flipped him off behind the doctor’s back.
With both hands.
“Good.” She nodded, then turned to Dom. “I know you want to rejoin your men, Captain, but you can’t. You’re not capable now. At best, you’re subpar.”
Holy shit.
Vince barely refrained from sucking in a breath as he watched his brother’s mouth slam shut. No one, outside of family, ever dared to call Dominic Acardi feeble.
This was great.
“But I promise you this,” she went on as if his brother’s knuckles weren’t cracking in his clenched fists. “If you follow my instructions for the next two to three weeks—and those of the physical therapist I assign—then you’ll be ready to command the next mission.”
His brother groaned. “Two weeks?”
“Or three.”
Vince’s heart dropped to his knees. Damn. He’d hoped to be back at the ranch in a couple of days. Leaving his kitchen to someone else for two weeks was inviting disaster. Jovy and Stone’s wedding menu aside, he had his hands full with everyday meals.
There were veterans with food allergies, diabetes, certain likes and dislikes, and several with social issues who opted to eat in their bunk instead of joining everyone else at the table in the main house.
Before leaving that morning, he’d briefed Beth about the food allergies, but the rest of the preferences were stored in his head. He made a mental note to relay them to Leo when he checked in later.
Dr. Palmer looked his brother over one more time. “Now that I know you have someone here to take you home, I’ll get your discharge started.” She turned to Vince and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Acardi. Good luck,” she added with a slight quirk to her lips before exiting the room.
His brother blew out a breath. “What the hell just happened?”
Releasing the stranglehold on his glee, Vince laughed all the way to the foot of the bed. “You were just put in your place by your very pretty doctor. But I agree with her a thousand percent.”
Muttering an oath, Dom flipped him off again.
He chuckled. “I’m guessing you haven’t had the chance to glance in a mirror. Trust me, bro. You look like hell.”
His brother smirked. “Explains why I feel like hell.”
“Want to tell me what happened that spurred the call that sucked ten years off my life?” He held Dom’s weary stare, knowing it wasn’t likely he’d get an answer, or the whole one, but he thought he’d try.
Frustration flashed through his brother’s eyes. “I was positioned on the roof of a building that collapsed.”
Shit.
Vince held his emotions in check. “You were damn lucky.”
Dom lifted a shoulder, but the anxiety pressing down on his brow told Vince what his brother kept inside.
“You weren’t the only one on that roof.”
His brother swallowed and shook his head. “I was with an Iraqi informant. I’ve no idea what happened to him.”
That explained the haunted look.
“Leo still has ties there,” he said. “I’ll call him later and see if he can find anything out for you.”
Dom slowly exhaled, and relief brightened his expression. “Thanks.” He tossed the covers back and grimaced. “How’s he doing?”
“Great,” Vince replied, grateful a pair of scrubs covered his brother’s bottom half. “He’s off the bottle. Taking on more responsibility at Foxtrot. Even joined a bowling league.”
“Good to hear.” A smile tugged his brother’s tight lips.
Vince agreed. It was a far cry from the guy who’d mixed medication with booze in an attempt to silence memories of one of their final missions.
“Do you have an extra shirt?” Face drawn and pale, his brother gripped the bed rail and slowly rose to his feet. “Not much left of my uniform.”
And not something Vince wanted to see. “Yeah, in my rental car. Don’t be in such a hurry. We still have to wait for the nurse to come in with the papers.” He pointed to the bed. “Sit your ass back down before you fall down. I’ll go find the top half of your scrubs.”
Dom answered with a glare before shuffling to a chair in the corner, then proceeded to curse through his clenched teeth as he lowered himself onto the cushion.
Vince cocked his head. “You know, pain meds will take the edge off.”
“Like I told the doc. I don’t need them,” the idiot replied, sweat beading across his forehead and upper lip.
He sighed.
It was going to be a long two to three weeks.
…
Day one-hundred-and-five down the drain.
Emma sighed as she turned onto her street after work. She really thought something special was going to happen today. Like Stephan asking her out. She’d felt it. But, other than whacking that cute soldier with the door, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
An image of the guy with thick, dark lashes rimming warm brown eyes flashed through her mind. Darn shame he was military. Although, even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. She was no quitter, and she’d put a lot of time and effort into getting Stephan to ask her out. Not to mention years of pining over him. It wasn’t over yet, though. A lot could happen in seventeen days.
The instant Emma pulled into her driveway, all thoughts of Stephan and the deadline disappeared from her mind. Right now, she had a more immediate problem.
Prickles of concern spread across her shoulders. An unfamiliar car sat in her neighbor’s driveway.
It wasn’t his. The Army Ranger was still on a mission with his unit.
Most of the time, those guys left and returned without notice, but Dom wasn’t back. She knew this because fifteen minutes ago she passed his truck on her way off the base. His “parked” truck. Which meant he hadn’t returned.
So who in the world was in her neighbor’s house?
Intent on finding out, Emma got out of her car with Dom’s house key in hand—the key entrusted to her for keeping an eye on the place whenever he was gone—and sneaked into his yard.
The day she’d moved into the house next door, he’d shown up in her driveway and pitched in. The fact he never once made a move on her was refreshing. They became fast friends.
Unease raced down her spine. For over a year now, she’d never had an issue with his place. Emma glanced in the windows on her way to the back of the house. Relief and alarm vied for top billing when she saw nothing.
Keeping her panic in check, she sneaked past the pool and hot tub and onto the back porch, surprised to find the door intact. And locked. No sign of forced entry. With adrenaline kicking up her pulse, she used the key to slip quietly into the kitchen.
Then stopped dead.
A tall man, with his back to her, stood rummaging through Dom’s cabinets.
Everything inside Emma tensed up tight.
Holy crap…
Intruder!
Who else had she expected to find when a stranger’s car sat in the freaking driveway? The cleaning lady?
Oh yeah, that’s right. She was the freaking cleaning lady.
With her heart beating out of her chest, Emma reached for her phone, only to remember it was in her purse…on the front seat of her car.
Darn it. Why hadn’t she dialed 911 instead of playing cop?
Too late to retrace her steps, she said a silent prayer and launched herself at the man’s back. In a series of moves too quick for her mind to register, she was flipped through the air and landed on her back with a thud.
As she worked to catch her breath, Emma stared up at a pair of familiar, thickly lashed brown eyes, crinkled in a frown.