Promises to Keep (20 page)

Jack
paced the room with violent energy. Fists balled, he waited for Laura to
return. Some psycho—apparently an ex-lover of Laura’s—had killed a good man. Ron
had been her neighbor and a friend, who'd been looking out for her.

Fierce
burning anger was building inside of him.

He
hated seeing Laura so upset. She was strong and tenacious but this newest piece
of shit was going knock her around for days, maybe weeks… or longer.

Would
she wake in terror in the middle of the night like he did? Covered in a cold
sweat?

I
wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He
had to tamp down his temper. Jack didn't want Laura subjected to that part of
him. She needed his support. Jack wanted to beat the ever-loving crap out of
the dog-shit piece of scum that had killed Ron and upset the woman he’d grown
to love.

Shit.

Apparently,
the murderous asshole turned up a short while ago demanding money and sex. If
her neighbor hadn’t been there, he may have gotten what he’d come for. Now Ron
was dead.

Forget
beating him up. Jack wanted to kill the bastard.

When
Laura came out of her room, red-eyed with her bag slung over her shoulder, Jack
focused on presenting a calm appearance.

He
was relieved to see that she looked different… almost determined. He thought
this might be a good sign. She no longer seemed all weepy and afraid.

In
Iraq, he didn’t only treat physical illness and injury—there were a truckload
of mental and emotional issues to deal with as well. Sometimes, in his
experience, a Marine who suddenly went from sad and afraid to doggedly set on
something, was a ticking time bomb, minutes away from exploding.

Not
always, of course.

Often,
sudden determination came with the recognition that there was a job to be done,
come Hell or high water. It could simply mean that the Marine wouldn't let
anyone or anything get in their way.

Every
once in a while though, it was the look of a Marine who was steps away from
hurting himself or his friends.

Time
would tell, but the physician in Jack insisted he watch her very closely.

Laura
sighed. "I’m ready to go."

Jack
took her bag from her hand. "Good. Let’s get out of here."

They
walked out of her apartment and down the hall through virtual cobwebs of police
tape, as well as a miniature forest of numbered crime scene markers.

The
paramedics and the coroner had come and gone, leaving little drifts of medical
debris
—
wrappers from sterile packaging, bits of gauze, gloves
—
that
littered the hall. Ron's door was closed and the doorway was covered with even
more police tape in a complex day-glow yellow cat's cradle.

Outside,
only one cop car remained at the curb.

A
single bored-looking policeman, a young rookie by the look of him, leaned
against the hood of his car, smoking cheap cigarettes. By the pile of butts at
his feet, he'd been there a while.

"Those
things will kill you," Jack called, as they hustled to his Jeep. The cop
shrugged and lit a new smoke off the burning end of the old one.

"Chief
said to stay until you two left, and to tell you not to come back here until he
says it's OK."

"Sure
thing," Jack answered. "Don't worry about us, we're out of
here."

"Not
too far, I hope."

Jack
gave him a half smile and tossed Laura's bag into the back of his Jeep.
"Just down the street."

"Whatever."

The
cop went back to looking bored, as Jack fired up his car.

Jack’s
hotel was just a few blocks away, in town. First right where the drawbridge
arched over the Trent River and there it was, on the left. A marina was on the
water, behind the hotel.

When
he’d first arrived, Jack considered renting one of the trim cruisers that were moored
there. First he had to get a boating license, he supposed.

They
parked and walked into the large building that dominated the waterfront. Jack
had heard it had quite a bit of its history. First built as a part of a rush to
develop the sleepy little town, it included a convention center and a marina.

An
outside bar circled the pool that overlooked the water. A brightly colored sign
advertised "Jazz Night Under The Stars" every Friday. Was it Friday? Jack
wasn't sure, that’s how out of touch he was.

The
last few days had been more than a little chaotic. It didn't matter, anyway.

They
silently walked to his room, after riding the elevator to the top floor. Jack
didn't know what to say, and Laura didn't seem to want to talk either. He
decided to let her be for the moment.

Feeling
paranoid, Jack opened the door and had her wait while for a moment, while he
checked the apartment for unwanted visitors.

Jack's
room—rooms actually—were nice. The lounge area was laid out with two long couches,
a wide screen TV and a small kitchenette. Sliding glass doors opened to a
balcony with a view that commanded the marina and the river beyond.

The
lights along the arc of the Neuse River Bridge twinkled cheerfully in the
distance.

Jack
opened a closet and pulled out a spare pillow and blanket. He tossed them on
the couch and turned to Laura.

"I'll
take the couch in here; the bedroom is down the hall. The door has a deadbolt
and I'll be between you and the outside world anyway.” He put a gentle hand on
her shoulder. “Listen, do you want to talk about it?”

Green
eyes appearing somewhat dazed and vacant, she shook her head.

“That’s
fine. It's up to you. I'm here for you. You deserve some TLC time. Sleep, take
a bath—whatever. Do whatever you feel like doing. I’m going to order room
service. If you can, you’ll feel better if you have something in your stomach.
Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

She
shrugged.

He
squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll surprise you with something.”

Laura
said nothing.

“You’re
safe here, OK?"

Laura
nodded.

“Come
here,” he said and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her and patted her back,
making soothing sounds and murmurs. Laura didn’t respond. He held her for a few
minutes, feeling helpless and impotent. Then he pulled away, quietly letting her
go.

"I’ll
take your gear in the other room and help you settle in,” he said, picking up
her bag. “We’ll get through this, Laura. Sleep won't be easy, but you need to
rest. There's some booze in the mini-bar, if you think that'll help."

Laura
shook her head again, but a flash of humor and resolve came into her eyes. "No,
thanks,” she said with a sudden burst of somewhat hysterical laughter. It
sounded anything but funny. “Since my mom’s an addict, I have a strict personal
rule I follow. I only drink when I’m happy.”

“Oh?”
Jack said calmly. He didn’t like the sound of that laugh. Laura had been
through a load of shit and was clearly on edge.

“Yeah,”
she added. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be an alcoholic by now.”

“That’s
smart,” Jack said, allowing his genuine admiration to show. “Really smart. What
a clever idea, to only drink only when you’re happy. You’re not stupid, are
you?”

“Yes
I am,” Laura said with a deep, despondent sigh. Before he could disagree, she
added, “I just need a little quiet time to myself, Jack."

"Sure
thing. I can't blame you. Whatever makes you feel better."

Walking
toward her room, Jack stopped her again, once more with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"It's perfectly normal, you know… to be upset. It's normal and sane and
right to feel angry and frightened and worried about all this. You’re
normal."

"Thanks."
A faint, tentative smile tugged at her lips. "I don't doubt that at all—but
I..." Her voice broke and she shut her eyes for a moment, drawing in a
deep breath. “Never mind. I… think I have a bit more crying to do.”

“Laura—”

Shaking
her head, she said, “It’s OK—I’m OK. I’m kinda like an old hound dog, y’know?
When I get hurt, I just want to hole up somewhere by myself and lick my wounds until
I’m feeling better.”

She took
his warm hand in her cold one and kissed it affectionately. “Thanks, Jack.” With
a sad smile she went into the bedroom.

The
door closed behind her with a click of the lock.

Jack
ordered three different types of pizza. Food was best in this kind of
situation. They both needed to eat. In circumstances like this, he found it was
important to concentrate on the most basic of animal needs: food, rest and a
stress-free, safe environment.

Maybe
Laura would want to talk after that. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed,
Jack would be there for her.

Jack
lay back on the couch, tucked a pillow behind his head and patted his stomach. It
was full of pizza. Even Laura had eaten well after his calm and insistent “I’m
the doctor, do as I say,” urging.

The
couch wasn't as comfortable as the king sized bed in the other room, but it
sure as Hell beat the cots, the sleeping bags and dirt he was used to sleeping
in.

He kicked
off his shoes and propped his feet up. The day's stress and activities weighed
heavily on him.

It
had started out so perfectly, one of the best days of his life. Then it all
turned to total crap in a blink of an eye—much like any regular day in Iraq.
Hell, there was even blood and a visit from the dragon, his old foe, death.

Jack
was used to the highs and lows of the warzone.

Every
moment could be an emotional roller coaster. The best thing to do when at war was
to compartmentalize his feelings. Jack had learned to drive emotions down, to
push them deep into the back of his mind to deal with later.

Lives
depended on him. He found he couldn't be effective if he was dwelling on crap that
he could do nothing about. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d learned how not to be emotionally
invested. He knew not to allow things in which he had no control, to control
him.

He
recalled the man he’d seen following them, the night he and Laura went out to
the restaurant. A furtive guy, radiating malicious anger and wearing torn jeans,
a dirty shirt and an unkempt beard. Jack felt certain he was Jonah.

If
he could just kill that SOB—shoot him dead—or better yet, have the satisfaction
of beating him to death….

Jack
put his homicidal rage away, before it swept him away.

Somehow
his life outside of Iraq seemed a lot like war. Could he continue to keep
everything in his head, neatly separate and defined? Or was
he
a ticking
time bomb?

Laura
was certainly an emotional curve ball for him. He hadn't planned on things
going this far—or did he? If he were being honest with himself, he'd hoped and
dreamed
it would.

That
troubled him. It wasn’t honorable or ethical to associate with the widow of one
of his men in this way.

Jack
felt guilty, of course, but he was human. Laura was his weakness. Starting from
those confiding, personal letters, he'd allowed himself to experience the
intimacy that he'd avoided for so long.

Now
he craved it.

When
you let people in, you take a huge risk. You can get hurt. Badly. It’s painful
to lose someone; to care too much, or too deeply. Sometimes it was better to be
alone.

He
smiled, knowing that with Laura, it was different. She was worth the risk.

If
anyone comes near her, I’ll kill them.

This
vicious, murderous intent soothed something primal inside him. Tension he
hadn’t even been aware of, fell away as he relaxed.

Jack
hadn't intended to fall asleep.

It
was as if he was on guard, and his post was right here, between Laura and
whatever nut-job hard-case was out there looking for her. Falling asleep would
be dereliction of duty.

Back
in the warzone, Jack would have crucified any person that fell asleep when they
were supposed to be on watch.

Nevertheless,
he drifted off without realizing it.

The
next thing he knew, he was treating a burned soldier back in Iraq, under fire
and very likely going to be killed any instant.

~~~

Confused
and disoriented, panic and shock clawed at his guts. The smell of scorched
flesh filled his nostrils while his body thrashed in an ice cold sweat.

"Get
down!" Jack shouted as he startled awake. He swung wildly, but luckily
didn't connect.

"Whoa
there cowboy, you nearly took my head off," Laura called, as she held up
Jack's pillow like a medieval knight with a shield.

Panting
breathlessly and feeling stupid, he took in the scene.

"Jesus,
Laura," Jack said as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. "You should
know better that to wake up a vet like that. Don't you watch the news? We all
have PTSD and stuff."

Her
green eyes widened. "You? I don't think for a second that you'd hurt
me."

Shaking
his head he said, "I wouldn't want to, but you gotta take reflexes into
account. I'm not exactly myself in that situation."

"Don't
be silly."

When
Jack sat up, Laura hit him on the head with the pillow. Stunned and wide eyed,
he slanted her an incredulous and indignant look.

“Why
did you do that?”

"That's
what you get for taking a swing at me."

Still
feeling a bit shaky, he managed a playful grin. “Oh? Well, fine. Feel better?”

“Not
yet.” Laura hit him with the pillow once more.

“What
was that for?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She
dropped the pillow. "That's for thinking that you could ever hurt me…and
for frightening me. You were screaming like a madman.” Sheepishly she added, “I
guess you were a little scared yourself.”

“I
guess I was. Just remember little girl, paybacks a bitch.”

Laura
smiled at him.

He
couldn't help but notice she was wearing a long T-shirt and nothing else—that
he could see anyway.

"Do
you know what time it is?” he asked. “How long was I out?"

"A
couple of hours. You were yelling and screaming I thought—” ashamed, she
lowered her gaze. “I was worried. I got the crazy idea that Jonah was attacking
you.” Laura plopped down beside him. "Just what is a ‘vee-bid’
anyway?"

The
term brought a vivid and unpleasant memory from his nightmare, right into
Jack's mind. "Never mind. It's not important right now."

"Hmm..."

"What
are you doing up anyway?" Jack took the pillow from her and put it aside. "You
need your rest."

"I
couldn't sleep."

"You
should try. I could go downstairs and see if I can rustle up some Benadryl. That
ought to knock you out."

"Benadryl?”
She put a lock of hair behind her ear and snorted derisively. “What am I, six?
Besides, I don't use drugs of any kind. That stuff messes you up."

"No
kidding. I think we got evidence of that today." Jack leaned forward from
where he sat on the couch. "Who is this Jonah guy? Seems damned dangerous
to me."

"He's
a selfish asshole and an idiot. I’ve seen him lose his temper, sure, but
this?
I can barely believe it."

"But
you do believe it."

"Yes,"
she said softly. "Yes, I do."

"Well
then, it's good that he's out there and we're in here. The cops’ll get him. I
promise to keep you safe until they do."

“I
promise to keep you safe too, Jack. We can protect each other.”

He
grinned remembering how she’d attacked him with a pillow. “I don’t know why, but
I’m not going to laugh about that. You’re a formidable woman, Ms. Wynn.”

She
smirked. “Yes I am.”