Rescuing Emily (Delta Force Heroes Book 2) (3 page)

As far as he was concerned, the sooner Emily and Annie moved in, the better he’d feel. They’d be safe in the small apartment above his garage. He’d make sure of it.

“
W
hatcha doin
’?”

The question came from behind Fletch, and wasn’t all that surprising. He’d been working on the vintage 1968 Dodge Charger all that week, and he’d seen the little girl peeking in on him every afternoon. But it wasn’t until today that she’d gathered up the courage to talk to him.

The signed lease agreement had been stuck inside the storm door of his house the day after he’d met with Emily. He’d left a key under the mat, as he told her he would, and given her his extra garage door opener as well. She’d moved in one day while he’d been on the base. Fletch had planned to help her, but she either didn’t have that much stuff, or she’d gotten assistance from someone else, because when he’d knocked on her door to make sure she’d gotten moved in all right, she’d opened it a crack, leaving the chain on the door, and told him everything was perfect.

Fletch had let her be. He’d gotten the locks updated on the small apartment, wanting to make sure Emily and her daughter felt secure. He’d added a new deadbolt as well as two chains on the door. One was around Emily’s eye level, and the other was three feet from the floor. Fletch wasn’t sure why he’d thought about putting in the second lock so low, but he supposed it was the thought of the single mother being alone in the little apartment, and wanting her daughter to be able to lock the door as well.

Without looking up, Fletch continued to work on the engine. He was leaning over the car, changing the spark plug wires. “I’m trying to fix this old car.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it to work again.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s old. You can go buy a new one.”

“Why would I want to buy a new one when I have a perfectly good car right here?”

“I don’t think this one is perfectly good.”

Fletch couldn’t really argue with the little girl. He had a lot of work to do on the Charger before it’d be street-ready again. He looked over at her. “Annie, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sometimes old isn’t a bad thing.” Fletch could see Annie digesting his words.

“Someday I’m gonna own stuff that isn’t old.”

Fletch felt his gut clench, but Annie continued before he could examine her words or his feelings.

“Can I help?”

“You want to help with my car?”

“Uh-huh. Mommy says I’m a good helper.”

Fletch stood up from under the hood of the car and looked at Annie carefully. She was wearing a pair of jeans that were just a tad bit too short for her. He could see white socks and a well-worn pair of sneakers on her feet. She was wearing a black T-shirt that hung a bit loose on her slim frame. Her blonde hair was pulled back by two barrettes on either side of her head, but wisps had come loose and were hanging freely around her face. She had a smear of dirt on one cheek and her hands were filthy. Not only that, but on a second glance, he realized the girl was covered in dust and dirt.

“What have you been up to, sprite?” Fletch asked, wiping his own dirty hands on a cloth nearby.

“Playing.”

“Playing where?”

Annie pointed behind her and Fletch took a step toward the garage door to see what she’d been pointing at. Around the corner, he saw a pile of plastic and metal cars strewn around a patch of ground that had always been resistant to growing grass. It was in the shade of the garage and it looked like the little girl had made a race track of sorts in the dirt. Some was piled up here and there, and Fletch could see marks in the dirt where she’d kneeled to play with the toys.

“You like cars?”

Annie shrugged. “They’re okay.”

Fletch tried not to smile. It was more than obvious the little girl liked cars. “What about dolls? You like playing with dolls?”

Her face scrunched up in disgust. “No. Dolls are stupid.”

“Stupid, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I like boy toys. Mommy doesn’t like when I call them boy toys, but it’s what everyone else calls them.”

“What kinds of boy toys?” Fletch asked, leaning against the Charger and smiling down at the earnest little girl.

“Anything. Trucks, monsters, cars,
Star Wars
. And I really like military stuff.”

Fletch was surprised. With her blonde hair, blue eyes and angelic appearance, she looked delicate and girly; it was amusing to see she had another side to her. “Not stuffed animals, dress-up clothes, or dolls?”

“No.”

“Your mom said you like to read.”

Annie looked up at him and asked somewhat belligerently, “Are you gonna make fun of me if I do?”

Fletch frowned and kneeled down so he was at eye level with the little girl. “No, Annie. I’m not going to make fun of you. I was just interested in
what
you like to read.”

She studied him with a look in her eyes that was much wiser than her six years. “Adventure stories.”

“Adventure stories.” Fletch felt a little foolish repeating her answers, but she continued to surprise him.

“Uh-huh. And mysteries. Mommy read me
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
and now we’re on
The Boxcar Children
. Then we’re going to start on the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books.”

“You are, huh?”

“Uh-huh. And I can read them too, but I’m too slow. Mommy’s working on it with me, but I like when she reads to me ‘cause we get through the stories more faster.”

Fletch was amazed. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with kids, but Emily hadn’t been lying. It was obvious Annie was way ahead of other kids her age. “Those are cool stories.”

“You’ve read them?” Annie’s voice was awestruck. “Really?”

“Yup. They’re great.”

“Cool!” the little girl breathed.

“Annie!” Emily’s voice rang out from the door at the top of the stairs around the corner. “Where are you?”

“Here, Mommy!” Annie said, stepping around the corner so her mom could see her.

“You’re supposed to stay where I can see you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Mommy. I was talking to…” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at Fletch. “What’s your name?”

“Fletch.”

Annie’s brow scrunched up and she frowned. “Fletch? Is that your first name?”

Fletch smothered a laugh. Annie was adorable. “It’s a nickname. My first name is Cormac and my last name is Fletcher. My friends call me Fletch."

Annie nodded. “Yeah, that’s much better. I’ll call you Fletch too.”

Fletch snorted in laughter. Leave it to a kid to totally insult him but make him laugh at the same time.

“I’m with Fletch!” Annie yelled up at her mom.

“I’m right here, Annie, you don’t have to yell,” Emily told her daughter, putting her hand on top of her head. She’d come down the stairs as Annie was talking to Fletch. “What have I told you about leaving Mr. Fletcher alone when he’s working?”

“I know, but Mommy, he was banging around in here and saying some of those words you told me I wasn’t allowed to say. I came in to see if he needed help and we started talking.”

Fletch hadn’t smiled as much as he had today in a long time. “It’s fine, Emily. We were just getting to know each other.”

“I hope she wasn’t a bother.”

“Never.”

Emily smiled at Fletch shyly, the disparaging remarks of others who were annoyed at her child obviously fresh in her mind. “Okay. Come on, Annie, show me what you’ve made today. I can see you worked very hard to make the perfect race course.”

“Oh yeah, Mommy, it’s awesome! Come see! The mean ol’ blue car didn’t get to win today, his car broke down, like ours did that one time, and the red
and
green car zoomed past him in the last second.”

Fletch watched as mother and daughter went around the side of the house to where Annie had made her race track in the dirt. He bent over the engine of the Charger again, all the while listening to Annie chatter away to her mom about her cars. The kid had an amazing imagination and Fletch looked forward to getting to know her better.

It wasn’t only the little girl he wanted to know better, either. Emily was fascinating to him. He’d caught her checking him out, but despite Fletch being friendly and open toward her, she didn’t go out of her way to speak to him or otherwise interact other than polite hellos and goodbyes. She was attentive and loving to her daughter, but it was more than that. He’d been fighting a surprising attraction to her since she’d knocked on his door a couple weeks ago. Surprising because he was usually attracted to women who were more…polished, for lack of a better word. Those who styled their hair, had perfect makeup, and showed off their bodies with provocative clothes.

Most of the times he’d seen Emily, she’d looked very natural. Usually in jeans and T-shirts with her hair pulled back. She rarely wore makeup, but she didn’t need it, and it all made her seem…approachable. Down-to-earth.

And her slightly mussed look made him think about what she might look like after making love, or first thing in the morning when she woke up in bed.

Fletch shifted and groaned. The last thing he needed was a woody. He grinned, but the visual of what he would look like to her if she walked back into the garage was enough to will his erection to go down.

Fletch made the decision right then and there to get to know Emily better. It probably wasn’t smart to get involved with a tenant, but the hell with it. Something inside was pushing him to see where a relationship with Emily could go. He relied on his instincts a lot. They’d saved his life more than once. And right now his instincts were telling him that Emily was just the type of woman who would understand who he was and what he did.

Satisfied with his decision, Fletch went back to work on the car, whistling, happier than he’d been in a long time, turning over through his mind how he’d approach Emily. The anticipation of a courtship coursing through his veins.

E
mily kissed
Annie’s forehead and closed the latest episode of
The Boxcar Children
she’d been reading to her. She made sure to stop at the public library every week, loading up on enough books to keep her daughter entertained until she could go back to get more.

“Mommy, why is it okay for Fletch to draw all over his arms, but I can’t draw on mine?”

Emily held back a smile and tried to look stern. “They’re called tattoos, honey, and they’re permanent. They aren’t drawings.”

“He has a lot. How did he make them pernanent?”

“Per
ma
nent. It means they won’t ever go away. They’re put there with a needle.” Emily tried to make the process sound as unappealing as possible, knowing if there was one thing in the world her daughter disliked, it was needles. “Ink is put into the needle and it’s pushed into his skin over and over until the drawing is under his skin and it won’t come out.”

“Needles?” Annie asked in horror.

Emily nodded solemnly.

“Yuck. Why?”

“Some people use them as decoration, others use them as a way to express themselves.”

Annie scrunched her face up. “His are pretty, but I don’t understand.”

Emily had to agree with her daughter on the first part, Fletch’s tattoos
were
pretty, not that she’d ever admit it. She changed the subject. “Do you remember what we talked about tonight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“That I’m never ever allowed to let anyone into our apartment. That it’s
our
house and our safe place.”

“That’s right, baby. And what about the door locks?”

“That I should always lock the door behind me when I come in. Including my own special chain lock.”

“Good. And why should you do that?”

“Because this is our house and no one is allowed in unless we invite them in.”

Emily nodded. “Yes. I don’t want you to be scared of people, honey, but there are some bad men and women in this world that want to take what doesn’t belong to them.”

“Like robbers?”

Emily nodded, knowing her daughter didn’t really understand. “Exactly, like robbers. When we’re here in our apartment, we’re safe from robbers. It’s our home.”

“And like the scary men where we used to live…right, Mommy?”

Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head to try to hide her emotions from her too-observant eyes. “Yes, Annie, like the scary men at the other place. But they aren’t here. It’s just a good habit to get into, locking the door behind you. Right?”

“Right, Mommy. But Fletch isn’t scary.”

“No, he’s not. But, Annie, you should really leave him alone when he’s working. He might not like you interrupting him.”

“He said his friends call him Fletch. I’m his friend. He doesn’t mind when I interrmupt him.”

Emily leaned down and kissed her daughter again. “I love you, Annie.”

“And I love you, Mommy.”

“Sleep well.”

“Okay, you too.”

Emily pulled the covers up on her daughter’s side of the double bed they sometimes shared. Annie liked to feel snug when she slept, so Emily would tuck the covers in as tightly as she could, then throw a blanket over herself when she went to bed. Most of the time, however, Emily found it easier to sleep on the couch so she wouldn’t disturb Annie when she went to sleep after her bedtime. She turned on the small table lamp she’d found at a yard sale for a dollar and left the room, closing the door behind her.

She puttered around the small living area, wiping down the kitchen counter and washing the few dishes that were in the sink. She put some crackers into a small baggie, packed an apple and made a sandwich for Annie’s lunch the next day. She eyed the last two apples sitting on the counter and shook her head. She needed to save those for Annie’s lunches. Emily knew she’d get paid again at the end of the week, so she’d be able to splurge and get them both a treat.

Stomach growling—it seemed like she was always hungry, but there was no way she would ever take food away from her child—Emily went to the small hall closet and pulled out a blanket. She walked to the couch and lay down, covering herself with the fluffy blanket she’d found last year at the church rummage sale. She clicked on the small television Fletch had put in the apartment sometime between when she’d toured the place and when she’d moved in.