Mission Happy (A Texas Desires Novel Book 3) (11 page)

“McDaniel! Get your ass in here!” Connor was bent at the waist, reaching for the free weights. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Commander Smart in the doorway with a pissed off scowl. When they made eye contact, the commander disappeared in the direction of his office.

He hadn’t even been on base for fifteen minutes, and they were already calling for him. Dammit.

“He’s got that weird facial tic. What’d you do to cause that, man?” Thacker asked, never breaking stride on the leg press machine beside him.

“Who knows,” he said absently. He didn’t want to leave the gym. Out there, his world was crumbling. Inside this gym, he was just like every one of these guys.

“You okay, man?” Thacker asked. This time he slowly lowered his legs and paused, concern etched on his face.

“Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. Most of his team had been on leave since they’d returned from overseas, only the diehards like Thacker and himself were back on base. He hadn’t told anyone what was actually going on but he knew every eye landed on him as he walked out of the gym.

Connor took a turn down the long hall to the admin offices. As he walked past each office, the place grew eerily quiet. Gazes lifted to watch him move past their open doors. Sure seemed that bad news traveled fast. He didn’t knock as he approached the open door. When he rounded the corner into his commander’s office, Connor found him standing in front of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Shut the door.” The attitude and stance were clear to Connor, and he reached over, grabbed the door, and let it fly. “You’re on immediate medical leave.”

“Sir—” Connor started, but the commander cut him off.

“No, don’t even say a word. You’re making this harder than it has to be. You know it’s out of my hands. I’ve got no say in this anymore. I did everything I could.”

Connor just stared at the man that he’d respected for more years than he could remember. Technically, those words were one hundred percent accurate; he just hated everything about this moment.

“So I’m just out?”

“I don’t know. Probably. They’re wanting approval to send you to Washington pretty quick. All this paperwork that normally takes weeks is being expedited. That says a lot.” They stared at one another for several long seconds in silence. The commander’s tic worked overtime, and Connor figured his own clamped jaw had one too.

“You know this has nothing to do with my mental state,” Connor said disgustedly.

“It’s the political culture we’re in. PTSD is a major buzzword right now. Factor that brain scan in and you just became the poster child for whatever cause wants to shut us down this week,” the commander explained.

They stared in silence at one another again.

“So I’m off the team?” Connor said the unbelievable words.

“It’s out of my hands.”

“They’ll assign me a desk job? I can’t sit behind a desk.”

“You’re missing the point, McDaniel.” There was a moment of indecision on the commander’s face before he lowered his voice. “You’re now on medical leave effective immediately. Honestly, that brain scan shit’s probably gonna result in a full disability.”

“I am
not
disabled,” Connor said and threw his hands in the air. “It’s about that stupid little Turkish weasel.”

“Not the point, McDaniel!” The commander came within a foot of him, put a finger in Connor’s face, and in a haggard whisper, said more than he probably should have. “If you don’t like any of this, your re-up’s coming. I might could wrangle an honorable discharge if you deny orders. That’s all I got for you right now. They’ve tied my fucking hands. You think I want you to go? It’s a crime to this country to not have you protecting it. I hate that shit. Now that they’ve screwed the pooch, you need to look out for you. Got it?”

Silence descended again as they stared at one another until Connor finally nodded.

“Take the next few weeks and think about everything. Get out of town. An NC has already been assigned to you. She’ll want to schedule an appointment right away for counseling. You’ve got the time and you’re not required to stay in town. Get out of here before they reach you. All that talking…” Commander Smart shook his head in disgust and continued in his whispered tone. “I’d rather have my arm cut off. You’re gone and they’ll have to postpone.”

A naval counselor had already been assigned? Shit, they worked fast. He could tell his commander had thought this through and wanted to help him work the system for the best possible outcome. With nothing left to say, his commander reached over to his desk and handed him a stack of paperwork. They had processed him pretty quickly if the size of this file was any indication. Connor stayed quiet. He contemplated not saluting, but in the end, old habits were hard to break. He took the paperwork, gave a weak salute, and was out the door, stalking toward his truck.

Yep, his world had just completely crumbled in a big giant fucked-up heap at his feet.
Shit
.

~~~

At dusk, Julia walked inside the backdoor of her kitchen from the garage, her mind fully engrossed on all things Connor McDaniel. Absently she placed her backpack on the counter and lifted her hand to hide a small yawn. Over the last two nights, she couldn’t have logged more than a few hours’ sleep, and the fault of that landed squarely on Mr. McDaniel’s big, broad shoulders. Julia grinned as she reached for her cell phone, wanting it to be close in case he decided to call.

Pivoting on her heels, she turned at the same moment a dark shadow crossed her kitchen floor. Fear gripped her heart, freezing her in place. Someone lurked inside her house. She immediately ducked, letting out a blood-curdling scream. The second of paralyzing fear faded as she pitched herself toward the back door and potential safety. Her body spasmed in an awkward dance as her arms and legs punched out in the direction of the shadow while at the same time she turned her body to make her escape.

“It’s me, Julie!”

Julia wrenched the back door handle. She slipped as her sister’s voice finally penetrated her panic, slamming her head into the door. She looked back over her shoulder with what had to be a terrified gaze, stars swirling through her vision when she registered Tina holding a laundry basket full of clothes. The pain of hitting her forehead on the hard wood had her dropping to her knees, holding on to the door, her body still intent on escape.

Tina came closer and put the basket on the counter. Her sister looked at her as though she were truly mentally deranged. Julia’s heart thundered uncontrollably in her chest, but at least she could breathe.

“What happened?” Bruno asked, busting inside, knocking Julia backward along with the door, though she didn’t lose her death grip on the handle. Through the gaping doorway, she saw his counterpart, Bruno 2.0, jogging toward them from across the property. Julia sighed and gave up her hold on the door, dropping to the floor, her back against the cabinet and her knees pulled toward her, making her a small ball of humiliation. She rested her forehead on her knees and tried for a nervous little laugh that came out more as a cry, so she just stayed silent, trying to gather herself.

“He’s locked up in the mental institution, Julie. They’ve got him under twenty-four-hour surveillance, all drugged up. He’s not going anywhere for a very long time,” Tina said, resting a comforting hand on her arm.

“I didn’t expect you in the house. That’s it. Nothing else. I was going into an empty house and then I saw a shadow,” she said, resting her cheek on her knees but not loosening the death grip on her legs. If she let go, she’d be a silly shaking fool. How could she still be this affected over something that had never really hurt her, only scared the bejesus out of her?

“What happened?” Bruno 2.0 asked from behind his brother. Bruno said nothing. He bent at the knees and lifted her chin, staring her in the eyes before his strong hands clasped her shoulders to lift her back to her feet. The cell phone still in her hand began to vibrate and she jerked at the unexpected sensation, proving she wasn’t over the anxiety of the moment.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t even think about all that. I should have turned on the lights. I just left my laundry earlier and I came to get it,” Tina explained to Bruno.

“It’s me, not you,” Julia said, looking down at her phone. It took a full minute of just staring before she could focus well enough to read the screen.

“I’m going, unless you need something else,” Bruno 2.0 said. She had hired them both when the police hadn’t been able to do anything about her increasingly aggressive stalker. When the guy had gotten bold enough to break into her home and lie in wait in her shower, it had been Bruno who’d saved the day. Luckily, she had finally gotten serious charges brought against him. Since then, Bruno and his team had practically lived with her. The price of safety turned out to be the loss of her privacy.

Until right this minute, she had thought she felt safe again. Apparently not.

“I’ll stay,” Bruno said to his brother. She started to speak, but her breath gave a hiccup and nothing came out. She hated being this afraid, having to force herself to speak.

Her phone vibrated again, drawing her eyes down as she gave another quick stutter of breath. Out of force of habit, and anything to help occupy her head, she looked down at the text message and read the few lines. Kenzie sent a sweet message inviting her to Texas. Julia took a deep breath and tried to let go of the residual anxiety still coursing through her. Kenzie’s message helped.

“I think this is a good idea. Lara Prescott has a baby shower in Texas, not this weekend, but the next. I should go. Can we go?” she looked at Bruno. His serious, hardened face turned somewhat softer, and he tried to give her a simple smile. He looked pained while trying to give her comfort. God love him if that didn’t help ease her.

“Sure, we can go. We’ll get it worked out,” he said in a less gruff voice than he normally used. She forced herself out of the small circle she’d created and looked over at Tina, pointing a finger her direction.

“You scared me to death. You need punishment, and I have lines to learn that you can help me with…” she teased.

She was just short of saying her sister would have to spend the night with her if Julia hoped to get any sleep tonight. Just to prove she could, she left them standing there and walked up the stairs alone, turning on every light as she went.

~~~

Connor clinked the longneck of his beer bottle against Thacker’s and downed the beer in a few long swallows before slamming the bottle on the table. The dozen or so empties, pushed to the center, rattled but stayed upright despite the force he used.

“I gotta roll out, Con-man,” Thacker said, after draining his bottle. In all honesty, his buddy may have kept pace at a one to three ratio tonight. Connor had most definitely outdrank them all this evening. “I’m real sorry what they’ve done to you.”

“I knew it was coming when I didn’t take that shot,” Connor said with more gusto than he really felt. Thacker rose off his stool, dug his wallet from his back pocket, and laid cash out on the table.

“Yeah, that guy’s a real douche. Can’t believe he’s still out there and you’re benched. That’s a strike against our country.” Thacker extended a closed hand across the small round table and Connor met the fist bump. “Take care on your trip. Call me when you get back.”

Connor gave Thacker a nod and looked around his deserted table. He’d been surprised when a few of the guys had come over, pulled him out of the house, and taken him to their regular hangout. News had traveled fast and they were concerned. It felt good to have his buddies on his side, but as they slowly trickled away, all going home to their wives, children, or whatever, the aloneness started to filter back in.

“Need another?” his regular waitress asked.

“Nah, I’ll take the check,” he said. He figured at this point he needed to watch his money. A six-pack on the way home would cost as much as a beer at the bar.

“Socks over there says yours are on the house. This covers Thacker’s,” she said, picking up the cash left behind on the table. That surprised Connor, making him look up at the burly, gruff older bartender who owned the bar and was retired Navy. He wiped a cloth around the well-used, scarred-up bar, his normally angry, intense gaze focused on Connor. He rose, pulling his wallet out to leave a tip and the waitress refused that too.

“Keep your money tonight, Con. You’re like family around here. We hate what happened,” she said, grabbing the last of the beer bottles, stacking them expertly on her tray. The constantly recurring lump re-formed in his throat as he looked down at his feet, then back up at her. He went ahead and pulled out a tip, laying the cash on the table.

“I’m not sure what I’m gonna do if I’m not stopping by here every day.”

“Me either. You’re my favorite customer.” She actually teared up and look away before turning toward the bar, leaving his money lying there. He knew her situation. She was a single-mother of a three-year-old. She needed that cash. He left it and went for the bartender who still faced his way with nothing but concern etched on his rugged face.

“Thanks, Socks, for the drinks. I should pay you,” Connor said, extending a hand over the bar. Socks gripped him tightly, giving him a solid handshake.