Station Alpha: (Soldiering On #1) (3 page)

Paul changed tack. “Do you think she’s guilty?” he asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. So, do you?”

Duncan hesitated. “Based on your reports, no,” he said carefully.

“Right. So you don’t think that she deserved to be rudely awakened this morning by a paramilitary team about to breach and enter?”

Duncan was silent for a long moment. “You better tell me what happened.” His voice had lost its angry edge. Now, he just sounded weary.

Paul took that as a good sign and began to explain. He told Duncan how he’d checked on Christine’s house just before 2am and seen the tell-tale shadows of a converging force of armed men. He told Duncan how he’d helped her escape and directed her to safety. Then, he slipped in the fact that she was now in the safe house one floor below the apartment in which he now sat.

Paul had intentionally neglected to mention that last little fact to Christine.

When he was finished, Duncan sighed. Paul could imagine him running his hand over his close-cropped hair in frustration as he often did when trying to make a tough decision. Duncan was a solid guy—calm under fire and always a quick thinker. It was what had made him such a successful commander in the military. He was the same in his civilian role as leader and half-owner of Soldiering On, the newest security company in Portsboro, where Paul and a number of fellow former military members worked.

It was a company that almost exclusively hired or found employment for veterans that had been permanently injured in the line of duty. People that might face challenges getting employed elsewhere. Particularly since they often wanted employment that would utilise the skills and training they had honed over their years in service.

Paul was a prime example. After his last mission, he wasn’t fit for much in the way of interesting employment. He was one of the most severely injured veterans that Soldiering On had so far hired. But his role in surveillance had been ideal. It allowed him privacy. And, it used his skills to protect his teammates on missions, monitor potential suspects, and watch over victims or potential victims.

It had taken Duncan a long time to convince Paul that Soldiering On would be a good fit for him, but he was forever grateful that he had.

Paul owed Duncan a lot. Which is why his heart felt like it was leaping out of his chest as he waited for Duncan to reply.

“Sounds exactly like what I would have done,” Duncan said eventually. Paul breathed a sigh of relief. “But what the hell has this girl gotten herself into?”

“She doesn’t know.”

Duncan pondered that. “Hell of a coincidence.”

“That it happened while we were monitoring her? Yeah, I considered that.”

“So, chances are that the two are related. Maybe their invasion was sparked by our investigation somehow.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Paul muttered.

“Maybe we need to look closer into the guys that hired us.”

“You didn’t do a thorough background check before taking the job?” Paul asked, surprised. Duncan was nothing if not careful.

“They seemed okay on the initial check. I would have gone deeper, but Mandy insisted we take the job.” Duncan said her name with such mocking disdain that Paul winced. Mandy had fronted almost all of the money for Soldiering On’s start-up costs, and was the other half-owner of the company.

Everyone in the office knew the story. When she’d first offered to help Duncan get Soldiering On off the ground, he’d had assumed it was a rich woman’s charity project. That she’d be a silent figurehead while he would be the true captain of the ship. He’d been wrong. Very wrong. Mandy was determined to make the business successful, and had no intention of standing back and letting him run it alone. She’d insisted on being co-director, and immediately began to make her mark on the place.

Duncan, of course, resented this a great deal. The two did not get along. Their opinions on how to run the business were polar opposite.

It was that, Paul suspected, which made them such a good team. Though they would both die before admitting it.

Duncan wanted to help any and every person that needed it. He was a natural protector, and had a surprisingly soft heart for a former military leader. Mandy, on the other hand, had a sharp eye for business. She wanted to turn Soldiering On into a prestigious, successful company. A solid investment. And she had the ambition and intelligence to make it happen.

So far it had worked out that they both got their way. The company was making money, and Duncan hadn’t had to turn anyone away. But Paul was glad he probably wouldn’t be in the vicinity if that changed. Perhaps the fallout from Christine’s case would trigger the end of the partnership, since he rather suspected that Mandy was going to get a talking to after this debacle.

“So, can I count on your help?” Paul asked cautiously, not willing to let Duncan go on a rant about Mandy.

He blew out a breath. “Yeah. Sounds like she needs it. What do you need? Most of the team are out on jobs, but we’ll figure something out.”

“If you wouldn’t mind sending out someone to process Christine’s house? Might give us a clue as to who those guys were. And whether they’ll strike again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“And if you find out anything more about the people that hired us, let me know. I’ll monitor her, and start researching her employer and his company from here.”

“Sounds good. Keep me in the loop.”

They disconnected and Paul’s gaze was immediately drawn back to Christine. The slow rise and fall of her chest implied she was sleeping peacefully. He decided it would be a good time to try and get some shut-eye. Paul disengaged the brakes on his chair and wheeled himself away from his desk. With one last, lingering look at the sleeping woman, Paul heaved himself into his bed. But his mind stayed one floor below.

Duncan cursed as he hung up the phone. What had Mandy gotten them into? He had no doubt that her insistence on taking this job had somehow caused this mess. He didn’t know how, yet. But he intended to find out.

He glanced around at the empty gym. He grunted with satisfaction when he saw no one was around to hear the conversation he’d just had. His leg and his wayward thoughts had kept him awake all night once again. He’d finally given up and come here to work out his frustrations. He had to do regular exercises on his bum leg—his parting gift from the military life—or it would seize up and protest. He’d missed yesterday’s session due to a busy day at work, and now he was paying the price. Another thing he intended to blame Mandy for.

Not that it was the only thing that kept him awake. His thoughts about his fellow co-owner—both of the salacious and frustrated kind—had also been a large part of the problem. Not that he would admit that to anyone. Particularly her.

He almost relished the fact that he could confront her later in the office about this debacle. He was looking forward to seeing her look of surprise. A certain smugness was already creeping over him about the fact that she’d have to apologise to him and admit he was right.

Still, an assault team like Paul had described was serious business. He wasn’t a paranoid man by nature, but usually armed men in combat gear didn’t storm people’s homes without an excellent reason. He knew it wasn’t what Paul wanted to hear, but it was entirely possible that the girl was not as innocent as she claimed.

He’d do as Paul had asked. It wouldn’t hurt, even if she did turn out to be something more than they had expected. But it would help her out if she was innocent. And if his guys dug a little deeper into Miss Christine Ramirez while they were at it, he certainly wouldn’t complain.

Paul did have good instincts. Under normal circumstances, Duncan would happily trust his life to them. But he’d suspected for a while that it was getting a little personal for Paul in this case. He’d thought hard about pulling him off the job. But he figured that as long as the man kept his distance—which he’d had no reason to believe he wouldn’t—then it couldn’t hurt. Might even do the guy some good to get attached to someone or something again. He’d been distant since Duncan had known him.

Not that Duncan could blame him. What he went through, losing the use of his legs, his career, and nearly his life would be tough for anyone to take. But Paul hadn’t reached out to anyone, hadn’t shown an interest in anything other than watching people from afar. Perhaps his personal interest in this woman would draw him out—particularly now that he was in contact with her and personally keeping her safe.

With Paul going off-book from their contract with the Vovks, it was clear that this had become a personal mission for him. That, too, meant there weren’t any professional conduct issues Duncan needed to worry about. Paul was now helping Christine on his own time, not the company’s. Though he’d talk to Mandy about having an official meeting with the Vovks to finalise that.

As for her…well, Duncan had to hope she was a good woman. From what he could tell, she was. A good woman in a tough spot that needed their help. He hoped that whatever Paul was feeling for this woman, that she returned it and didn’t end up breaking his heart. He wasn’t sure that Paul could handle another blow like that.

So, Duncan would keep an eye on the situation. Just in case.

Chapter 3

It was the light she became aware of first. Bright and cheerful, the sun streamed in through the window, hitting Christine full in the face. It was completely at odds with the grumpy mood she found herself in that morning. She rolled over and pulled a pillow across her face, groaning. A second later, panic flashed through her at the thought that she must be late for work and she sat up before conscious thought permeated her sleep-fogged brain.

It wasn’t until she opened her bleary eyes that memory of the night before assaulted her. It crashed into her, reminding her that she wasn’t safe. There were people after her. She didn’t know why, and had no idea how to stop them. But her mind also reminded her that she had a guardian angel. One with a deep, rough voice.

She lay back in bed and speculated about Paul to avoid thinking about her current situation. From the sound of his voice, she’d guess his age would be somewhere in his thirties, give or take. She had no idea what he looked like, but if it matched his voice, he must be one attractive man. Regardless of his looks, she did know that he was intelligent, logical, and quick-thinking. He was also protective.

She wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.

Christine sighed and reached over to grab her phone to check the time, only to remember that she’d crushed it into smithereens the night before. The sad, broken pieces still lay on the floor next to her bed. A testament to the current state of her life.

She reached over to the landline, but paused halfway there, her hand hovering uselessly in the air.

She’d been about to call in sick to work; maybe even explain to nice Mr. Disik what had happened. However, her years of training via TV and books kicked in, reminding her that whoever was after her was probably tracing the incoming calls of the people closest to her. She couldn’t risk it, at least not until she had Paul’s permission.

Instead, she threw back the covers and padded over to the bathroom. On her way there, she remembered what he’d said last night about having cameras in the room. She paused, looking around. It didn’t take her long to spot the one on the ceiling in the corner. It looked like a smoke alarm, but was positioned to give the best vantage of the room. There was another in the range hood in the kitchenette, giving a different angle to the main room.

She only found one more, in a decorative lamp on the desk. The bathroom appeared to be clear, but she wanted to be sure.

“Paul?” she said to the smoke alarm. She waited, expecting the phone to ring. Instead, there was an echoing silence. “If you’re there, can you call me? I don’t have your number.” She’d have to rectify that as soon as possible.

Still no answer. Christine figured he must have gone to sleep. Most likely he’d been up all night to have seen those guys at her house at 2am, so she couldn’t really blame him. Still, a shiver ran down her spine.

Feeling suddenly cold, she decided to chance the fact that he might see her naked and take a shower. She stepped in, keeping the water just shy of scalding. The water rinsed away the remnant of her fear and panic from the night before, and determination set in. She wouldn’t let these assholes—whoever they were—ruin her life. She wouldn’t let them win.

Christine thought about sweet old Mr. Disik and wondered what, if anything, he had to do with her current predicament. He seemed so harmless. In fact, she’d occasionally wondered if he was becoming a little senile, and had thought about suggesting it gently to his son, Jimmy, when she next saw him. He seemed to care about his father, his interest in his welfare acute. But Jimmy hadn’t been around since he’d interviewed her for the position.

All she did for Mr. Disik was transcribe his dictations, organise and digitise all his old work files, and other small office tasks. Nothing that she could imagine would justify armed men kidnapping or shooting at her.

She had to find out more about this company he was apparently still CEO of. It seemed like that could be the key. Jimmy might know more, but there was no guarantee she could trust him. She’d only met him the once.

Sighing, Christine finished her ablutions and shut off the water. She dried off and wrapped herself in a towel before realising that she didn’t really have anything to change into. There had been a small chest of drawers near the bed, and Christine thought that she might get lucky with some spare clothes. It wasn’t until she was opening the drawer and her towel slipped precariously that she remembered the camera. Her face heated. Was he watching, or still asleep?

She flickered a glance up at the camera, as if that could tell her, then rolled her eyes at herself.

“Paul?” she asked cautiously. Her gaze moved to the phone, but it didn’t ring. She guessed he was still asleep. Christine shrugged and began digging through the drawer, unearthing a faded men’s t-shirt that would probably fit across her chest, and a pair of basketball short that would likely turn out to be the least flattering item of clothing she had ever worn in her life. She tried not to care. Likely Paul would be the only one to see her. But when she thought of his gruff voice, she had the odd desire to look pretty.

Still, practicalities won out. She had no desire to wear her pyjamas all day, and sitting in a dangerously unsecured towel wasn’t exactly an option. No bra or underwear was to be found, which Christine knew she’d have to rectify. But, still, the t-shirt and shorts would do.

She glanced once more at the camera. No reaction, so she decided to get changed where she was. She turned her back to the camera—just in case—and pulled on the shorts under the towel. If Paul happened to get a brief glimpse of her butt in the process, well, Christine was surprised to find that the idea made her breath come just a little bit faster. Though she’d never been much of a prude about her body behind bedroom doors, she hadn’t ever thought of herself as displaying any exhibitionist tendencies.

Though, why she would equate Paul with her lovers when she hadn’t even seen the man was rather strange. Throwing off the thought with her towel, Christine pulled the t-shirt over her head. She looked down at herself. Certainly not her most attractive outfit, but it would do.

Just then, the phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. Her heart beat faster in anticipation as she reached over to pick it up. “Paul?” His name sounded slightly breathless on her lips.

“Are you decent?” came his rough reply. His voice sounded strained, and Christine wondered how much he had seen. And whether he’d liked the view.

“All covered,” she replied. “I thought you were asleep because you didn’t reply.”

“I was. I woke up to see…ah, well, it was only a…I didn’t see much. I shut my eyes as soon as I realised.”

“That was very gentlemanly of you,” she told him, amused by the thought of him covering his eyes like a schoolboy. He sounded so embarrassed. Did his ears turn pink when he was mortified? she wondered, suddenly curious about him. Would she ever get to see his face, know what those expressions looked like as they played across his features?

“It’s the least I could do,” he replied gruffly.

“Where are you?” she asked abruptly. “It occurs to me that you could be anywhere in the world. I’ve been thinking of you as nearby, but you really could be anywhere.”

He hesitated, as if once again debating how much to tell her, and how much of it would be the truth.

“I’m in the same city. So not that far.”

Christine sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and facing the camera. “Does that mean I’ll get to meet my rescuer at some point?” she asked playfully.

He grunted. “Probably not,” was all he said. Disappointment flashed through her.

“Oh,” she murmured. “That’s a shame. I’d like to thank you in person.”

He made a sound of frustration—another habit of his. “That’s not necessary,” he replied, his voice a little sharp.

“All right,” she allowed, changing the conversation topic. “How long will I be stuck here with only your voice to keep me company?”

“Hopefully not long.”

“And what does ‘not long’ mean in your world? A day or two? A month? Longer?”

A grunt. “I’d hope it would be closer to a few days than a month, but it will depend on the investigation.”

Christine thought that she heard the sound of keys clicking on a keyboard, and it reminded her of their conversation the night before. “So, how is the investigation coming?”

“Duncan, my boss, is sending a team to your house this morning to comb the area. Hopefully they’ll find something. Like I expected, the license plates on the cars didn’t lead anywhere. They are registered to a small company that is no doubt some kind of shell.”

“So your boss didn’t chew you out for rescuing me?” she asked playfully.

He chuckled. “He wasn’t happy, but he got over it. He has another focus for his anger now.” The man sounded far too amused by this prospect.

“Right, so that’s all good to know. What’s our next step?” She shifted on the bed, drumming the fingers of her free hand against her thigh. She didn’t like being inactive. If there was work to do, she wanted to be a part of it. Particularly since it was her life and freedom on the line.

“I’m going to dig deeper into Mr. Disik, his company, the men that hired us for this job, and anyone else I can think of. Hopefully I’ll turn something up.” He sounded distracted, like he was doing something else.

“And what can I do?”

“You wait. Stay safe.” He said this like it was obvious.

Christine scoffed. “You can’t be serious. You expect me to sit here for what could end up being a month, twiddling my thumbs because there is nothing else to do in this apartment that I can see?”

“I can get you a book?” He sounded a little sheepish, but Christine didn’t back down.

“Let me help. I get that you guys are the professionals. I won’t interfere with what you are doing, or put my life in danger. But I know my life better than anyone, so if something is odd or out of place, I am going to be the most likely one to notice it.”

He hummed, obviously thinking. “All right. I’ll get someone to bring you one of our secure laptops. You can do your own research, see if anything pops out.”

She sighed, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you. Oh, and when they bring it, can you ask them for a few changes of clothes? And maybe some breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Shit, yeah, sorry. I didn’t think of that.” He sounded genuinely contrite. “There might be some food dregs in the kitchen, but I wouldn’t guarantee anything is fresh. See what you can find, and I’ll get someone to come over as soon as they can be spared.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s no problem, really. Anyone else would have done the same.”

“Even if that were true, they wouldn’t have done it half so well. So thank you.”

She could hear him shifting in his chair. “You’re welcome.” His voice held that perfunctory edge so common in those that were not complimented often and didn’t quite know what to make of it. “I need to make some calls,” he said abruptly.

“Of course.”

And then he was gone, and Christine was once again left alone in the silence. She wondered how long it would take anyone to miss her. Other than Mr. Disik, she didn’t really see or call anyone with any regularity. And given Mr. Disik’s questionable faculties, she couldn’t be sure that even he would notice her absence. Her friends might be concerned if they couldn’t reach her after a few weeks, since they usually caught up once a month or so and the last meet up had been two weeks previously. But that would be a while off.

She sighed, wondering when this had become her life. She’d been perfectly happy with it until last night. She enjoyed her job and her solitude, and knew her busy friends would always be there if she needed anything. But it hadn’t occurred to her that her friends didn’t want or need her. They had other people to turn to.

Frustrated with her line of thinking when there was nothing she could do about it, Christine slid off the bed and went into the kitchen. She scrounged a protein bar that was just barely within the use by date and nibbled at it while searching for some caffeine. A packet of green tea teabags had been shoved to the back of the cupboard, so she brewed a cup and settled in to wait.

Paul watched Christine for a few minutes longer, all the while telling himself to stop. She didn’t need his eyes on her right now, but he was so engrossed in her unconsciously graceful movements. Even in the oversized clothes, she was a sight to behold, and Paul tried very hard—and failed miserably—not to notice that she was not wearing a bra.

It was this thought that eventually convinced him to turn away, as his groin was stirring with interest. His acceptable creep threshold for the circumstances had already been surpassed, and he didn’t need to be getting boners over Christine without her knowledge to add more in the red column.

The fact that he still could get it up was happy news, he could admit. He had begun to think that the few times it had happened since the accident had been flukes. But Christine seemed to stir something in him – something that he would do his best to ignore. That way only lay heartache and another mark in the ‘creep’ column.

Though she hadn’t seemed to mind too much when he’d accidentally caught a view that morning, but Paul knew that didn’t mean anything, and it was dangerous for him to think it did. The quick image of her delectable rear end was forever seared into his mind, but he would try his best not to think about it.