Titanium (3 page)

"This can't go any further," I told the rearview mirror.

There.

I'd made my decision.

What a relief.

Now all I had to do was walk her to her door, run back to my
truck, and drive away.

I could do it.

I had to.

Though I intended to drive straight to the duplex I rented,
neon lights and a growling stomach made me detour. Impulsively, I
turned off the main road and into a parking lot, where I got out of the
car. Zander pulled in beside me and rolled down his window. "You
live at Waffle House?"

I risked a smile. "No. I was hoping you'd let me buy you
some breakfast as a thank you for saving my butt."

He hesitated just long enough that I was embarrassed.

"What am I saying? It's two in the morning. You probably
have someone wondering where in the heck you are." I started to get
back in my car.

"No, wait. I'll eat."

I didn't try to hide my pleasure. As we walked to the door, I
considered the conundrum of me being attacked by three unknowns
in the parking lot one minute and hopefully feeding another
unknown the next. Were the shadows of harsh reality lurking on the
rim of this bright spot? I suspected they were, and dreaded the
moment I'd be alone with my thoughts.

But that moment wasn't now.

We sat in a booth and ordered a coffee apiece and our
breakfasts, with neither of us saying much. When the silence got
weird, I began asking questions any inquiring mind would want
answered. "So is there?"

"Is there what?"

"A someone waiting for you to come home?"

"No."

"How long have you been stationed at Fort Sam
Houston?"

"I'm not."

"Oh. When you said you were Army, I assumed--"

"I was discharged almost a year ago."

His bitter tone didn't go unnoticed. "Sorry. You don't have to
talk about yourself if you don't want to."

"I'd definitely rather talk about you."

I sighed and absently turned my mug round and round with
my fingers. "Believe me, even black coffee won't keep you awake for
that story."

"You don't really believe that."

"Excuse me?"

"That came out wrong." He thought for a minute, self-
consciously rubbing his scruffy chin while he did it. "You're
obviously interesting to the creep who tried to kidnap you. Not that
your beauty wasn't enough to catch his eye. I'm not saying that. I'd
never say that."

I snorted a laugh. "Am I pretty on a good hair day? Sure.
Beautiful? Never."

Zander sat back. "Now
that
, you believe."

"I have mirrors, okay? And I'm nothing if not realistic. I've
had to be."

"What's that saying? 'Beauty's in the eye of the
beholder'?"

I shook my head. "Trust me. Jason didn't attack tonight
because of how I look."

"You know his name?"

"I doubt it." I told him everything "Jason" had said to me.
"Are you going to tell me how you really knew I was in
trouble?"

"Already did. My training. It would've been hard to miss
those idiots scoping you out in the food court."

"But Jason was alone when he bought his tacos."

"The others were lurking. And, Riley...? There was a fourth
one."

Gulp.
Just then, the waitress handed us our food.
Grateful for the diversion, I dug into my breakfast of waffles and
bacon and tried to ignore the sudden wave of nausea that threatened
to bring it right back up. For several minutes, neither of us
talked.

Zander finally broke the silence. "There has to be a reason
those guys have stalked you. Tell me about your family. What did you
mean when you said you moved in with them? Why weren't you
already there?"

"My mom died when I was nine. Since my dad had deserted
us in spirit several months earlier, my aunt and uncle stepped in and
took me. Not that he fought them or anything. By all accounts he was
relieved to be free of fatherhood. My cousins are the closest thing to
siblings I've ever known. They're my family now."

"Are your aunt and uncle rich?"

I almost laughed. "Leslie is a teacher. Clint's with Hartford,
but not their top agent by any stretch. So no, they're not rich, though
Clint is pretty smart about money. When he sold Mom's house and
car, he invested what he got for it. That pays for my tuition and
books."

"What about your real dad?"

"We don't talk." I remembered the email. "Or didn't. Few
people even know he exists." I caught Zander's frown. "I don't want
my identity to be based on his poor decisions."

He nodded as if he got it. "One more question. Is your real
dad loaded?"

"Maybe. He has a good job now, and sure hasn't gone broke
paying child support." Remembering Leslie's slip, I dug my cell from
my purse. I'd silenced it at work. Now I saw that she'd been blowing
it up with calls. "Actually, that's not exactly true." I stashed my phone
back in my bag and deliberately sipped my coffee, which had gone as
cold as my mood and tasted pretty nasty. "It's your turn now."

He didn't speak for a moment, as if thinking. "This is what
I'll tell you. I'm from Amarillo. I have parents plus an older sister.
She's married and living in Houston with her husband and two kids.
Dad's a partner in a big law firm. Mom does the club thing--garden,
civic, country. My enlistment wasn't what the folks had in mind for
me, so when I was inj--" He as good as screeched to a halt, his eyes
widening slightly.

I waited and wondered.

"What I meant was when the Army discharged me, I
transferred everything here. I'm currently renting a trailer and hope
to enroll at UT next fall to finish up my education."

"'Everything' meaning what, exactly?"

He hesitated again before answering, his gaze unwavering
as he clearly came to some kind of decision. "My medical records. I
transferred them to Brook Army Medical Center."

Oh, no.
"You were discharged because you were
hurt." It wasn't a question. Somehow I knew.

"Yeah."

"Where were you stationed?"

"Afghanistan."

I leaned forward and covered both his hands with mine. "I'm
so sorry, Zander. Thank you for serving our country."

He eased free and sat back. "That came from the heart."

"Of course it did. I have a lot of respect for anyone who
fights for me."

"Some people don't think it's important because the trouble
isn't here, in the US."

"There's nothing more valiant than protecting the innocent
no matter where they are. Besides, the trouble might be here if there
weren't soldiers like you. I just wish there wasn't so much injury and
loss of life. Doing the noble thing has such a high price
sometimes."

Zander avoided my sincere gaze by staring at his coffee. I
couldn't imagine what he was thinking.

"Are you living at Fisher House?" I knew it served wounded
veterans in some way.

"Nah. Fisher House provides free lodging for families of
vets."

"Oh. My bad."

"I'm living in a trailer park near the hospital. It's not much,
but keeps me off the street, I guess." He pushed his plate away before
looking pointedly at mine. "Are you finished?"

"Yes."

He reached for the ticket. I got to it first. "My treat,
remember? You can get the next one." Our eyes met. I waited for his
reaction to my brazen, hopeful suggestion.

He cleared his throat, a nervous sound. "There's going to be
a next one?"

"I really, really hope so."

Zander's eyes locked with mine. He looked...troubled.

Baffled by that, I still managed a smile. "Are you in?"

It took a second, but he slowly smiled back. "I think I
am."

Fifteen or so minutes after leaving Waffle House, we got to
my duplex, tucked in a dark neighborhood on the wrong side of the
tracks. I credited that to the roads being oddly bare of traffic, but I'd
never actually driven them at that time of day before. No late nights
out with the girls for me. I'd left my best friends back in Rocky Falls
and hadn't yet met a classmate or coworker I wanted to hang with on
the weekends. But I'd only been in San Antonio since August and was
admittedly hard to get to know, or so I'd been told.

I had my insecurities, I guess. Any girl abandoned by
someone who should've loved her naturally would. And to meet
people with similar interests, I'd have to visit places that I liked--the
zoo, the museums, the Alamo, Dolphin Cove. That took free time. At
the moment, I didn't have much. Hopefully that would change when I
found a housemate.

Zander pulled into my graveled driveway right behind me.
As we walked the short distance to the dark porch on my side of the
duplex, I watched him size up the area. I waited until we were at the
door before speaking. "What's the verdict?"

"You should leave your outside light on if you're getting
home late, or in this case, early."

"I agree. Anything else?"

"If there's a spare key inside that fake turtle in the flower
bed, you need to hide it somewhere else. Better yet, don't leave one
outside at all...unless you make it a habit to lock yourself out."

"What fake turtle?" I wasn't exactly into flower beds, the
reason weeds had overtaken this one.

Zander pointed it out.

"I've never noticed that before." I fumbled through the keys
on my ring for the one that would unlock the front door. Several
seconds went by before I realized it wasn't there; several more
passed before I guessed why. I felt the blood drain from my face. "Oh
God."

"What?"

"My house key is gone."

Zander got very still. "You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! My freakin' key isn't on this freakin'
ring!" I stuck it in his face and shook it.

"All right. Okay. Don't panic."

"Don't panic? When Jason can get into my house and I
can't?" Wide-eyed, I backed away from the door. "What if he's in
there now, just waiting for me to walk in alone?"

"You're not alone, remember?" Zander scooped up the resin
turtle and flipped it over. Sure enough there was a sliding slot.
Opening it, he pulled out a key, which he put into the door lock. A
twist released it. "Must've belonged to the renter before you."

"I don't believe this."

"Stay here. I want to check inside."

"No way." Thoroughly spooked, I grabbed his wrist with
both hands. We entered the living room single file. I let go long
enough to flick on the light.

Gently easing free of my death grip, Zander began to search
the house. I heard doors opening and shutting in each of the two
bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen. He walked back to me. "No
one in hiding, but now is definitely the time to call the police."

I didn't argue. Surely I could keep my aunt and uncle out of
it. "9-1-1, or do we go to the station?"

"They should come here. Might want to look around or
something."

I dug into my purse for my cell phone and dialed those three
numbers, something I'd never done before. When a lady answered, I
explained what had happened using as few words as possible since a
story like tonight's could easily get convoluted. The dispatcher
promised that someone would be there soon.

While the two of us waited, Riley checked out every room
herself to see if anything had been stolen. I followed her around, not
because I thought I might've missed someone hiding in a closet. I was
afraid she'd collapse or something. She put up a good front, but her
pale face and shaky hands told the real story. Besides, I'd watched
her too long in the food court to not know she wasn't herself.

I liked her apartment. It felt cozy. I also liked the personal
touches that made it that--family photos; a hall tree with a couple of
jackets, a ball cap, and a scarf on it; and the well-worn furniture.
Hand me downs from home? I wondered. Or had the apartment
come furnished?

On one hand, I wished I'd never agreed to follow her home. I
sincerely regretted giving her hope about us when we had no future.
On the other hand, though, I had no regrets I'd gone with my gut a
second time and done both. It felt good to be doing something
worthwhile for a change.

"What are you thinking?"

Riley's question yanked me from my thoughts. I glanced
over to where she sat in a recliner, one foot tucked under her. She
had a little pink in her cheeks now. I wasn't sorry to see it. "I'm
thinking that I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah, because of
you
. Did I thank you?"

"You bought my breakfast."

"But I didn't say the words."

To my surprise, she hopped up and moved to sit right next
to me, our thighs just touching. My heart rate kicked up a notch. I
leaned back slightly to keep from smelling her cologne.

"Thank you, Zander, for saving my ass tonight."

Her sincerity brought a lump to my throat. Irritated that
everything seemed to get to me these days, I swallowed hard,
something I did a lot. "I was glad to do it."

"When I think what could've hap--"

I covered her mouth with my hand. "Don't think. Put it out of
your head. Focus on glass-half-full shit."

That made her laugh, a magical sound that put the twinkle
back in her eyes. "For example?"

"The price of gasoline. The effectiveness of our legislators.
Our failing educational system. Oh wait. Wrong half of the
glass."

She laughed again, an infectious sound that made my stupid
joke worth the effort.

Headlights outside alerted us to the squad car turning into
Riley's drive. I glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes wasn't too bad
as far as response times went on a Saturday night. The policeman
who came introduced himself as Sergeant Brian and wore plain
clothes. We told him our names. I made note of Riley's last name--
McConnell--since she'd never given it to me.