Broken Love Page 3

  “So…” I point around. “How long have you guys been out here?”

  Fox looks up, counting in his head. “We’ve been at this camp about six months,” he answers. “Before that, it was a year in Iraq.”

  “Damn,” I say. I glance up at Caleb. “You, too?”

  “Yeah.” She doesn’t even look at me. Her hands rise to her hips and I see her fingertips dig into her sides.

  “Wow. I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.”

  “What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks.

  “Just… stuff. Hey—” I look around. “I thought they didn’t allow lady soldiers this far into the combat zone or am I wrong?”

  Fox starts laughing but cuts it off quickly. “They usually don’t, but somebody assigned her without realizing her name was unisex. No one super important has noticed yet and she’s too good to trade, so… we keep it quiet.”

  “Ohhh…” I look up at her and she throws me a sideways glance. “Looks like we’re both outsiders around here.”

  “Excuse me,” she says again.

  She spins around and swishes those little hips away. Of course, I stare at those tight cheeks as she exits the tent again.

  “Does she do that a lot?” I ask Fox.

  He shrugs. “I guess you just bring that out in people.”

  “Story of my life.”

  Caleb Fawn. My reluctant protector.

  This should be fun.

  Chapter 5

  Caleb

  “Sergeant!”

  He quickens his pace in a futile effort to avoid me. Does it piss me off? You’re damn right it does. It always has ever since the moment I was assigned to his unit. The lack of mutual respect between us is wearing thin.

  “Sergeant!”

  I watch him flinch as he turns around. He slides his hat off to rub the thick, prickly hairs on his round, sweaty head.

  “What is it, Fawn?” he asks.

  “Sir, I have a problem with this.”

  He kicks a lump of sand with the heel of his boot. “With what?”

  “With Carson.”

  “Look, I don’t like it either, but he could prove useful.”

  “I don’t mean that,” I say. “I mean passing him off to me. I’m not a babysitter.”

  His lips twitch. I can’t tell if he’s amused or pissed. Maybe both. “Well, what would you have me do with him?”

  “I… I don’t know but it’s not my job to look after civilian intelligence freelancers.”

  “Your job is to do whatever I tell you to do.”

  “I ain’t arguing against that, sir,” I say, “I just think my skills could be put to better use than this.”

  “Fawn…” He sighs with impatience. “You should thank your lucky stars you’re even out here in the first place. I could have sent you back home, but I didn’t.”

  “I know that. And I really appreciate that, but—”

  “I like you, Fawn. I do.” He slides his hat back on to block out the harsh sun and I sense the tone of his voice harden. If I want to make an argument, I better do it now. “You’re one hell of a good soldier and you can hold your own against most everybody here.”

  “Sir—”

  “But I can’t help it if I sleep better knowing you’re not first in line to get shot at or worse. Now, Carson has a job to do and it’s your job now to make sure he does it. Understood?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “And neither do I. Let’s just say that’s another reason why I’m entrusting him with you.” He takes a quick step closer. His brow hangs over his eyes, casting a purposeful shadow along the bridge of his nose. “Understood, Fawn?”

  I force my argument beneath my tongue. There’s no changing Rhys’ mind on this. It’d be stupid for me to keep bashing my head into this wall and I’ve already got a big enough headache right now as it is.

  “Understood,” I say.

  “Now, go play nice and keep a close eye on him,” he says, spinning on his heel. “Find him a bed and some clean clothes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Like you mean it, Fawn.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Atta girl.”

  He wanders off, leaving me more pissed off than when I first walked out here.

  Goddammit.

  I head back to the barracks to get out of the sun and embrace the shade for a few moments until I reach my cot. Of course, Carson — or whatever the hell he calls himself — is sitting on it with his mud-covered slacks and filthy hands.

  “Caleb…” Fox looks up at me, obviously hinting at me to play nice just like Rhys told me to. “You okay?”

  I inhale a heavy breath. “I’m fine.”

  “So…” Boxcar makes a wide hand gesture. It’s obviously meant to grab my attention, but I keep my eyes down. “How long have you guys been out here?”

  “About a year now,” Fox answers him. “We’ve been at this camp for about six months. Before that, it was a year in Iraq.”

  “Damn. You, too?”

  I shift my hands up onto my hips, feeling his eyes on me. There’s a temptation in me to meet his gaze but I force it aside. I’ll admit, there’s something interesting about him but he can’t be trusted — that much is obvious.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Wow. I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.”

  “What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks him.

  I finally let my eyes fall on him.

  “Just… stuff.”

  Bingo. He won’t even answer the question. He doesn’t even have a rehearsed lie to answer with instead. He’s changing the subject and Fox the Trusting is falling for it. Whatever this Boxcar is doing out here, it’s not good.

  I study his face. Youthful but wise — he’d be almost charming if he knew how to use it right.

  Boxcar cranes his neck to look up at me and I almost flinch. “Looks like we’re both outsiders out here.”

  “Excuse me.” I turn around and exit the tent again, feeling his trained eyes on me the entire time.

  If I’m going to figure out what he’s really up to, then I’m going to have up my game here. It pains me to even think it, but my gender might be the most helpful thing in this scenario. I saw the way he looked at me and I can use that to my advantage.

  Win him over. Gain his trust.

  Figure out what he’s up to before he gets us all killed.

  “Caleb.”

  I glance up from my hiding spot behind the crates stacked up near the jeeps. Nothing but desert as far as the eye can see. It’s about the only calming sight one can find out here and it’s exactly what I need right now.

  “Fox,” I greet him as he bridges the short distance between us.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asks, smiling wide.

  “Not really, no.”

  “Come on. It’s not that bad.”

  “That’s easy for you to say…” I cross my arms. “You’re not the one that has to play bodyguard to some annoying tag-a-long.”

  He chuckles. “You have to admit, it could be worse.”

  “This isn’t funny, Fox.”

  “Boxcar doesn’t seem so bad.”

  I sigh. “Except for the part where he could easily be up to no good. You saw how he dodged your questions. What the hell is he even doing out here?”

  “We’ll figure that out. In the meantime, we might as well make the best of it.”

  I breathe a laugh. “You and that optimism, Fox. I don’t know how you do it out here.”

  He gives a half shrug. “I’ve already lost the most important thing in the world to me. Whatever this place can throw at me… it won’t be nearly as bad as that.”

  I nod softly. Fox and his taboo girl. He talks about her more often than he’ll admit and probably thinks about her even more than that. Part of me wonders if he came all the way out here just to avoid her name in sparkling lights around every corner.

  “Wel
l… could be worse, right?” I muse.

  He pauses for a moment. “Yeah. Definitely.”

  Liar.

  I don’t blame him, though.

  My mind drifts back to Boxcar and I practice a friendly smile to use on him.

  It’s time to find out who the hell this guy is.

  Chapter 6

  Caleb

  Now

  Sundays. My one day off.

  I used to keep Fawn’s Pawn open seven days a week but that wasn’t sustainable. Even control freaks like me get tired sometimes and there’s only so much one girl can do on her own.

  I sit down on my couch. It’s just after noon. I have the entire day to lounge, relax, eat shitty food, and watch Netflix. I’ve been looking forward to it all week and nothing is going to stop me. There’s not a single thing in the world right now that can’t wait until Monday.

  I grab a soda and a bag of chips and head into the living room. As I sit down, I sink deep into the couch cushions and take a long, calming breath.

  Oh, yeah. Here we go—

  A knock strikes my door.

  “Ignore it…” I whisper aloud.

  I sit as frozen as ice, refusing to make a noise until I hear them leave.

  Another knock thumps against wood, this one more eager than the last. I take a quick breath, letting it soothe the rage building in my chest. This is my day off. My one day off. I’ll just sit here and wait and eventually they’ll piss off and disappear.

  The impatient fist bangs even harder and I can’t hold back my voice.

  “Go away!”

  “Caleb, it’s me.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Hell fucking no.

  I’m dreaming. That’s what this is. It’s just a horrible nightmare. It seems awfully realistic. I look around my living room, marveling in the accurate representation of my loft. My couch in the center of the room facing the television. One cardboard box in the corner full of movies because I haven’t bothered to buy shelving. Behind me is the kitchen — if you can even call it one. Bare and simple. Across from that is my unmade bed.

  I just have to wake up, that’s all.

  I’ll wake up and his voice will once again be a distant memory.

  “Caleb!”

  Please wake up.

  “Go away!” I shout again.

  “Please, Caleb. We need to talk—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence, Boxcar! I swear to god…”

  I succumb to the truth.

  This is no dream. This is really happening.

  I am Rosemary staring down into the black bassinet. That baby with the glowing red eyes is mine.

  I perk up my ears, preparing myself to argue with him a little more but, to my surprise, he says nothing. Not one damn word. I don’t know why he’s here and sure as hell don’t want to know… but I find his silence interesting nonetheless.

  Not interesting enough to get me off this couch, though.

  I reach for the television remote and flick it on, quickly navigating to my Netflix menu. There’s a certain show I’ve been dying to binge-watch and today’s the day I’m finally going to make a massive dent in season two.

  I push play and sit back into the cushions to immerse myself in the opening theme song.

  The picture freezes. I grit my teeth, waiting for it to buffer and keep going.

  Any moment now…

  A message pops up, covering the entire screen.

  Please check your internet settings.

  I pick up the remote again and navigate to the settings menu.

  Incorrect password. Please re-enter your password.

  Heat rises on my skin. I raise an eyebrow and tap my password in.

  Incorrect password.

  I input it again, this time making extra sure every button I push is correct.

  Incorrect password.

  I hop up off the couch, heaving a thick, annoyed sigh as I head over to the router to make sure—

  Wait…

  That son-of-a-bitch.

  I rush to my door and throw it open.

  Boxcar stands in my hallway with his laptop balanced on one knee. He jolts as I step outside, nearly letting the thing fall to the floor but he catches it and closes it before it slips.

  “Did you just change my wi-fi password?” I seethe, staring him down like the bug he is.

  “Yes, I did,” he answers.

  “Change it back.”

  “No.”

  My eye twitches. “Boxcar…”

  “Caleb…”

  “Change it back!”

  “No.” His eyes halo around my head. “Hey, you grew out your hair. It looks nice—”

  “Box…” I growl.

  He clears his throat and adjusts his posture, standing up a little taller. He only has about an inch or two on me in height but he’s trying very hard to stretch that out as much as possible.

  “I need your help,” he says.

  “I don’t care.”

  He’s tired. I can tell that by the gray circles nestled beneath his glasses. He hasn’t combed his hair in a while either. His jacket is wrinkled. His fingers twitch subtly at his sides — meaning he’s had way too much coffee today or he’s scared shitless. Maybe both.

  I shake off the analysis. “Why would you think I’d care?” I ask.

  “Caleb…” He pauses. “I just need a bit of your expertise—”

  “No.”

  “—and maybe a place to crash.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Please, Cal.”

  He’s desperate. Good.

  “No means no, Box,” I say, turning back around. “I don’t have time for this.”

  I step back into the loft and slam the door behind me, leaving his sorry ass outside.

  “Caleb…”

  I keep walking across the room toward the router. Hopefully, I can reset it to the factory settings and change the password to something he can’t easy crack into again.

  “Caleb.” His voice sounds muffled but close as if he’s pressing his face against the door. “If you help me, I’ll… I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  It takes him a few moments to respond. “I’ll sign the papers.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I spin back to the door and fling it open. He stands in the doorway, staring back at me with sadness behind his eyes.

  “You’ll what?” I ask.

  “I’ll sign the papers.”

  Holy shit.

  Whatever is going on with him must really be serious if he’s making this kind of bargain. “You can’t just throw that out there unless you mean it, Box.”

  “I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “If you help me, I’ll give you the divorce.”

  I study him a little closer. There’s pain in his eyes. The kind I’ve never seen in him before.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Does that mean you’ll help?”

  “It means I’ll listen,” I say. “I make no promises.”

  “I’ll take it.” He rolls his shoulders back. “Can I come in?”

  I hesitate. Bad things tend to happen when Boxcar and I are alone together, no matter the context.

  “Talk,” I say, refusing to budge.

  “Okay…” He slides his laptop into his messenger bag and tosses the strap over his shoulder before leaning against the door frame. “So, I assume you’re up-to-date on this Snake Eyes business?”

  “For the most part.” I shrug. “Fox filled me in on a few things. I thought you wiped out any record of his involvement.”

  “I did,” he says. “As far as the law is concerned Fox was never involved, but Snake Eyes remembers him pretty well. Two of them showed up at my place last night.”

  I perform a quick scan of him again, checking for fresh bruises or scrapes or gunshot wounds. Old habit, I guess. There’s little to see of him around a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He definitely dresses like he’s from the New England area nowadays. It’s a little warm
for it on this side of the country. He left in a hurry.

  “What did they want?” I ask.

  “They were looking for Fox. I denied I knew anything so…” He pauses and his eyes fall to the floor between us. “They said they’d come ask my… his old army buddy instead.”

  That would be me, obviously. It’s no surprise that Snake Eyes is pissed off at Fox for outing them. Of course, some have taken it upon themselves to retaliate.

  “Why didn’t you go to Fox with this?” I ask.

  “I did. He’s safe for now — in Japan.”

  I scoff. “So, I was an afterthought? Real cool, Box…”

  He glares at me over his black rims. “Like you’re going to fault me for going to our buffer first?”

  I pause for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.”

  He looks back at me with growing concern. I originally assumed that was for his own well-being but now I realize that’s not the case at all. He didn’t rush out here to save his own ass.

  He came out here to save mine.

  I take a step back and open the door the rest of the way.

  Boxcar follows me inside with wandering eyes. “So, this is nice…” he says.

  “It’s a dump, actually.”

  He instantly smiles and my heart flutters.

  Dammit. This is exactly why I didn’t want him in here in the first place. Boxcar might be a damn twerp but he’s an adorable one, too. I’ve always thought so, even when he grated my nerves so much I wanted to shoot him.

  I clear my throat. “Do you want some coffee, or…?”

  “I think I’ve had more than enough in the last twelve hours, honestly…”

  “A beer, then?”

  I wander across the room to the kitchen and pull open the refrigerator.

  “Sure,” he says.

  I pop the caps off two bottles and slide one over to him. He takes a drink, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.

  “So, how’s the shop?” he asks.

  I bite my inner cheek. Are we really going to do this? The small talk? The quick catch-up?

  “It’s great,” I lie. “Doing really well, actually.”

  He gives me an ambiguous look like he knows more than he’s letting on, but he says nothing to confirm it. “Good.”

  “I’d ask how you’re doing with whatever, but I honestly have no idea what you do anymore,” I say, taking a sip from my beer, quickly shifting the attention away from my own failures. “Except for exposing sex scandals in Washington.”