Phoenix (14 page)

Now Caroline hated what she saw, ashamed of what she’d been. How close she’d come to turning into another shallow, pampered woman with the world as her oyster. Her hair remained chopped to just below her ear. She needed a trim. Her roots were showing. She’d picked up a couple of bottles of peroxide at the commissary, unwilling to let her hair return to its normal color. She considered letting it grow out but it would be harder to dye that way.

Crunch helped her with touchups, but there were times when she missed the way she used to be. The superficiality didn’t matter; it was simply another reminder that nothing was what it should be. And never would be again.

She didn’t care what she looked like. Whether her hair was in the right place. Whether her clothes hung well. Whether anyone was looking at her. Because everyone was. It wouldn’t take much to search for an old photo and compare it to the way she looked now. It proved easier to ignore it all than do anything other than look halfway presentable. Caroline ran her hands through her hair, her reflexes automatic as she tried to tug it into a style she couldn’t pull off anymore.

If she tried hard enough, she could picture herself standing in front of the mirror in the master bathroom in the Governor’s Mansion. She’d be styling her hair into a chignon during her daily routine, waiting for Jack to come in and persuade her to wear it down because he liked it better that way. Playfully pushing him away as he swatted her ass and teased her about her nonexistent vanity. Walking into her closet and picking out a dark suit with a brightly colored blouse, as was her preference. Putting those final touches on her makeup, grabbing a stunning pair of shoes, giving her husband a not so quick peck, and breezing out the door as Kathleen or someone else from her staff patiently waited to drive her to a luncheon or a speech or whatever event was on that day’s agenda. So predictable, simple, and trite, yet she burned to get those moments back.

She frowned at her reflection. Christ, she hated that blond hair. Dull and stringy and totally unsuited to her skin tone and facial features. Not that she had any facial features left. How did you complement a crooked nose and uneven cheekbones?

Caroline heard a knock at the door. It had to be Jones.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She pulled on her beret. Back on duty. Full BDUs were the order of the day. No time to dwell on the past. She had to focus on the now. “Let’s go shoot some shit.”

*              *              *              *              *

The morning led into lunch. Caroline and the guys ate their meals in almost complete silence. She was about to leave the cafeteria with the three of them when she felt a pair of eyes boring into her back. She spun around. Buchanan was at one of the tables near the door, glaring at her. According to Gig he’d had the wires removed from his jaw a few days earlier and had fallen in with a few of the newer guys. Buchanan pointed at her, turned to them, and said something. They all laughed. He swung back around and started glaring at her again. Caroline glared back.

Jones grabbed her arm. “Come on, Princess. Let’s go.”

“No,” she said.

“Walk away,” he said. “We ain’t got time for this. Not today.”

A hint that her mood wasn’t the best. A hint she wouldn’t take. “Fuck that.” Caroline marched over to the table, with Jones and the others following closely behind. She stopped a couple of feet short of Buchanan. “Do you have a problem, Corporal?”

Buchanan stood up. His friends, who had been so raucous before, found themselves quite content to start eating their food again. He looked back at them, realizing he was on his own. “Got your little posse with you, I see,” he said.

Caroline looked over her shoulder. Her three compatriots were about ten feet behind her. They knew this was her fight. That and they’d had enough trouble already the last few months. “How’s that glass jaw of yours?”

He brought his hand to his chin. “Just fine.”

“If you have a problem with me, you may as well spit it out.” she said.

“Feeling lonely?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Now that your pussy of a boyfriend is gone, you must be crying yourself to sleep every night.”

This fucking base and its fucking rumor mill. It didn’t matter that she’d brought the gossip on herself. “I’m fine. Thank you for your sympathies.”

Buchanan took a step closer so that only she could hear him. The cafeteria seemed deathly quiet. “A cunt like you shouldn’t be in charge of anything,” he hissed. “If you’d trained Morton and your other men properly he’d still be here.”

A nonsensical statement that struck a nerve nonetheless. “Fuck you,” Caroline said.

He whispered something in her ear and before she could even process what he’d said she flashed back to the day he had interrogated her, to those weeks at The Fed, to every time any man had said anything dirty or disgusting or vile to her, and she came apart. She flew at him, punching him in the jaw, hoping she could break it again.

“You fucking asshole,” she said, shoving Buchanan onto the table. Trays of food dropped to the floor and his lunch mates scattered. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

He’d gained some muscle as his jaw had healed and he pushed her off him, kicking her in the thighs. “Crazy bitch,” he spat.

She sprang up and clawed at his eyes, tearing at his shirt and punching him in the stomach, and they fell to the floor, rolling around, wrestling and punching at each other. Caroline could feel someone trying to pull her off him but she kept fighting.

“Stop, Gerard.” She heard Gig’s voice but it seemed far away. “Cool off, girl.”

Gig and Crunch had their arms around her, pulling her backward as she continued to kick and scream. There were other people talking to her but she didn’t know who they were.

“Let me go!” she cried. “I’m not done with him.”

Jones got in her face. “Stop it, Princess,” he said. “Come on now.”

Buchanan rose to his feet and reached over Jones’ shoulder to slap Caroline in the face. “Twat.”

Jones spun around. Grief had given him a short fuse as well. “Don’t talk that way to the lady.” He punched Buchanan in the nose, pouncing on top of him.

“Fucking Christ.” Gig grabbed Caroline around the waist, holding her back.

“A little help?” Crunch called, as he pushed Gig and Caroline away from Jones and Buchanan. “Anybody?”

Several MPs ran into the cafeteria and pulled Jones off Buchanan. Two of them yanked Caroline out of Crunch and Gig’s grasp. “You two,” one of them said. “Out. Now.”

The entire cafeteria was staring at them all. Two other MPs had Buchanan by the arms and were dragging him away from her. Jones had disappeared. The MPs lugged her through the cafeteria door. One of them pushed her face first into the hallway wall.

“Arms behind your back,” he said, pulling out his handcuffs.

Gig rushed up behind him. “Don’t cuff her,” he said.

Crunch started grabbing at the first MP’s hands, and the second one pulled him back.

“Don’t try it, buddy,” he told Crunch.

“Don’t cuff her,” Gig repeated. He turned to Caroline, who was struggling against the wall. “Calm down, Gerard. Come on.”

The MP pushed her head into the wall, harder this time. Caroline tried to pull back and he slammed her into the wall again. She was sinking. Sinking into the concrete, which had turned to liquid. Couldn’t he feel it? She was dragging him with her. If they plummeted into the abyss would anyone be able to save them?

“Stop resisting,” he said.

“I mean it, man,” Gig said. “I’m former Chicago Police. Don’t cuff her.”

“Oh, you’re going to make her compliant? Maybe with a nice little love song?” The second MP pushed Gig in the chest. “Stand down.”

Caroline was still struggling against the first MP, with Crunch standing close to her, whispering in her ear, trying to calm her down. The MP grabbed her wrists, placing them behind her back. The world faded away.

*              *              *              *              *

Gabe had told him about the blackouts but hell if Gig was ready for it. Those goddamn MPs were oblivious to the woman vanishing before them. He exchanged a glance with Crunch, who shook his head.

Fuck.

“Stop,” Caroline said. “Please stop.” She tried to pull out of the first MP’s grasp and the second MP took out a baton and hit her in the back. She groaned in pain and slumped against the wall.

“Stop resisting,” the MP repeated.

“It’s a trigger,” Crunch said softly. “They used to do that to her at The Fed.”

Caroline sagged against the wall and the MP placed the cuffs around her wrists. “Like I give a fuck,” he said, purposely making them too tight.

Gig shook his head. None of them needed this. Not him, not Crunch, not even Jones, who’d stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. But especially her. “Fucking Christ,” he said, leaning toward Caroline. “It’s okay, Gerard. Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you.”

She twisted her wrists in the cuffs, scraping her skin raw. “No,” she said. “Let me go.” Tears streamed down her face. She pushed herself into the wall as the MPs tried to pull her away. “No!” She started to scream. “Stop. Please stop.”

Gig grabbed her by the chin. Maybe he could get her to focus. Focus on something, anything, before she was too far gone. “Don’t do this, Caroline. You’ll be fine, okay? You’ll be fine.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’re coming with you.”

The first MP scowled at him. “The fuck you are. She’s going straight to the commander.”

“He’s going to be thrilled at how you treated her,” Crunch said.

No doubt. Gig suspected it wouldn’t be pretty. “We’re going with you anyway,” he said. “Unless you want to cuff us too. Just try it.”

The MP yanked Caroline away from the wall and she screamed again. Her knees buckled and Gig and Crunch rushed forward to pull her to her feet.

“You’re okay, Princess,” Crunch said. “We’re right here.”

The two MPs pushed through them, shoving Caroline down the hall. Oh, they thought they could outrun him? Both of them? Gig chased after them with Crunch at his side.

“I’m not responsible for what happens when the commander sees the two of you,” the second MP said.

It took all of Gig’s self-restraint not to kick the man in the back. Or steal his baton and do the same damn thing he’d done to Caroline. Goddamn prick. “Do we look like we care?”

Caroline shuffled her feet, stumbling occasionally, her head down.
Fuck
. This was going to get worse before it got better.

Crunch ran up next to her. “You’re going to see your husband. Okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes glassy, and Crunch shot a glance over at Gig. “Fuck, I don’t think she knows what’s going on.”

No shit. It was a long walk from the cafeteria to the main administration building and it was raining. By the time they arrived at the commander’s office they were all soaking wet. Caroline was shivering and could barely stand.

The MPs led them into the outer room. Jones and Buchanan were already there, accompanied by their own police officers. They were sitting down. Neither was cuffed.

Jones jumped up. “What the fuck, man? What’s wrong with you? Get those off of her.”

Gig smiled. He and Jones had their differences but the man was loyal as hell.

Schroeder stood up. “Corporal Jones, sit down.” One of the MPs shoved Jones into his seat as he dialed the phone. “They’re all here, sir,” he said.

Gig stood next to Schroeder’s desk, surprised when none of the MPs forced him to move. He hoped the fireworks would start. Because he wanted to see Commander McIntyre light up the fucking sky with these assholes.

*              *              *              *              *

Jack sighed, straightening his collar. He didn’t need this. Schroeder had given him bits and pieces of a story. Something about a fight in the cafeteria. He hadn’t given a shit about the details until Caroline’s name was mentioned. Nothing good could come from this situation. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront whatever came his way. But he had to act like the leader he was. Treat her the same as anyone else.

Time to pretend you know what you’re doing. Make sure they know you’re incredibly inconvenienced by their insolence. Make sure all of them know. Especially her.

He took a deep breath and schooled his features before opening his office door. Too many damn people in his waiting area. Military police. Corporal Buchanan. Caroline’s friends. But his eyes went immediately to his wife. Head down, barely moving except for the occasional shiver. Utterly defeated. He hadn’t quite expected this.

“Why is Major Gerard in handcuffs?” he demanded.

The MP holding her by the cuffs stood a little straighter, pulling Caroline up in the process. She screamed in pain.

“She instigated a fight in the cafeteria, sir. She attacked Buchanan out of nowhere and resisted arrest.”

“Only because you tried to cuff her, asshole,” Crunch said.

Jack had to maintain order. Even if his inclination was to blow all the rules to hell. “Watch it, Mr. Rodriguez.”

His voice caught her attention. Caroline looked up at Jack and back down again. Her face was damp, maybe from tears, maybe from the rain. All he wanted to do was drag her into his office, yank those cuffs off, and comfort her. Right after he beat the shit out of that asshole MP who arrested her. Fuck the details. He didn’t need them. He didn’t care what she’d done or who she’d done it to, someone else was going to pay.