Mountain Man SEAL Page 8

  His mouth turns up in a smile that’s nothing more than a leer.

  “You made a wasted journey.” I say. My voice breaks and that makes his smile more pronounced. He enjoys intimidation.

  “Not when I’ve found what I came for.”

  The waitress returns from the kitchen. “There’s your coffees. She sets the cups and creamers with sugar on the countertop. Then she tears a slip of paper from her pad. “I’ll just leave the check and go get your sandwich. It’s coming right up.” She smiles hesitantly, no doubt sensing the think atmosphere that’s dropped over the room.

  “I’m ready for another coffee.” Jarke leans in to add three sugars to one of the cups. While he’s stirring it well, slowly, his eyes never leaving me, I calculate my options. “Shall we go?” He says.

  It isn’t a question. He prods my arm with a hard point and I realize he has a gun in his pocket. I reach for my coffee but as though he’d read my mind, he grabs it before me and drops it into the trash.

  “Naughty naughty.” He says. He eyes my tee shirt with yesterday’s coffee stain. Of course, that clued him in to my plan. He pokes me again with the gun barrel, edging me to move.

  “I have to get my sandwich, the check.”

  “Move.” He snarls. I immediately do what he says. I have no doubt he’d shoot me. Not to kill me but a bullet hurts even more if it doesn’t outright kill you. My attempt at courage doesn’t extend that far.

  I let him lead me by the gunpoint, out through the door and across the lot.

  Damn you and your wide mouth, Reese.

  13

  Blaze

  We’ve got a few things to sort out, that’s for sure, but little by little Whitney and I are going to work it out. We are going to work out. I can talk to her. I talked to her more than I’ve talked to anyone and I’m still functioning just fine.

  I go into the store and pick up the household items I had in mind for making the shack less of a cesspit. I get the cookies too. Then I get an idea and head to the building supply store and grab a few things. Tank and me on a project could spruce the place up in no time.

  I grab a few more essentials in the minimart and a two-four. A cold beer will be good after a day of construction.

  I toss the stuff in back of the truck and look across the parking lot toward the diner. Whitney isn’t headed this way so I start to amble over there to meet her. She’s probably gorging a piece of pie or something - neither of us had breakfast and I realize my stomach is growling.

  I push through the door into the restaurant and look around for her.

  She isn’t at the cash waiting for takeout, nor is she sitting at the counter with that pie. Blood surges in my veins as I look all around the place and find she isn’t seated at any of the booths.

  “Excuse me Ma’am, have you seen a girl with red hair?” I ask the older waitress. She frowns as she thinks abut her customers that day. “In the washroom maybe?” I prompt. “Long red gold hair.”

  “Oh, yes, beautiful hair. She left - they took the coffees but she didn’t stick around for her sandwich. Didn’t pay for the coffees either.”

  My heart pounds a drumbeat against my chest. I reach for my bills to pay the waitress. Only one word echoes in my eardrums like approaching thunder.

  They.

  Maybe I heard wrong. The waitress seems a bit confused - perhaps she got it wrong.

  “You said ‘They took the coffee’.” I hand the woman enough to cover the tab and a nice tip. “She wasn’t alone?”

  “No she left with a man. A thin man without hair - just about the exact opposite of you.” She says, eyeing my torso.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh yes, quite.” She grabs the money eagerly, and a little relieved.

  The surge of blood in me is painful. Whitney left with a guy - someone she knows from town? Someone she’s sleeping with? I’ll kill him. As soon as I find them.

  “Did you see which way they went? What kind of car?”

  “No. By the time I realized they were gone, it was too late to go out after them and get my money. Thank you for picking up the tab.”

  I head for the door and the waitress runs after me.

  “Hey, you forgot your sandwich too.”

  “Thanks.” I take it even though I lost my appetite.

  “Good luck.”

  I can’t believe I lost Whitney the first five minutes I let her out of my sight. Rage pummels at my skin lining just thinking how she’s played me. Maybe she begged some dude to rescue her from my ab-normal existence. Maybe she’s been dating all along. We never actually had that talk.

  Maybe she’s in the Sheriff’s office right now filing a complaint about me.

  Like an idiot I didn't even blindfold her for the drive back down the mountain. She knows exactly how to locate my shack. And she knows about the distillery tanks in the yard.

  I start driving to the center of town without purposeful direction. I have no idea where Whitney was living and I doubt I’m going to get lucky and pick her up on the side of the road a second time. I’ve lost her and it feels like devastation.

  She was the one bright star on the horizon of my pointless existence and without her I’m wandering in the desert again.

  It’s not even noon but I pop a can of beer and down it in one. I don’t even care that I could get pulled over. No traffic cop is going to ticket a vet and honestly I don’t care what happens right now.

  All I want is to get Whitney back.

  Even though she made it very plain that she hates my guts, I definitely noticed a softening up as we drove into town. Even before as she wrapped her arms around my neck while still straddled across my thighs.

  I think about the passion we shared this morning and then how she threaded her fingers into mine as we drove down here. The small opening up to each other through my exposing my vulnerabilities was cathartic. For me at least. The sexual tension may be a heat of the moment thing but the finger connection was heartfelt real.

  Hours have passed and I’ve driven every last street in this shitty upstart town, looking down every alley, into every brand new condo building.

  She’s lost to me. I feel almost more broken tan I’ve ever felt.

  Man up marine. This is not how you achieve success.

  It’s true. This self pity is a new thing for me. And it isn’t gonna take hold. I don’t operate this way. Losing is not an option.

  I won’t give up. Not ever.

  If I have to drive around for the rest of my days, odds dictate sooner or later I have to see her. She can’t hide out in her place indefinitely.

  It’s after ten which means I’ve been driving around for almost twelve hours without eating or even stopping for much beyond relieving myself and filling the gas tank. I’ve checked every store or cafe, even the touristy places I’m sure she wouldn’t bother with.

  Nothing. It’s like she’s vanished in a puff of smoke.

  Wait.

  She wouldn’t go back to that would she? I can’t see it. Not when she just got out of rehab and seemed proud of getting clean. That thought preys on my mind, drawing it closer. Then I discard it. The only place I can use the can is the dive bar up ahead. I pull into the lot in front.

  At first I think I must be hallucinating - that my urgent need to find Whitney has brought her swimming up in front of me like a dream. Maybe I’m losing it but I think not. I’m still a human machine. I blink my eyes hard a few times then resort to night time vision. Without the goggles obviously, but by flexing my eyeballs to make the focus kick up a gear.

  Is it really her?

  She’s with a dude and every cell in my body contracts in fury when I see that. I briefly consider firing up the engine and taking off but it’s not possible. I’m tied to Whitney as much as I’m tied to my five remaining brothers. We don’t leave each other behind.

  Whitney and the dude aren’t exactly together. It’s not like she’s hanging off his arm or they’re laughing happily together. Eve
ry sense goes on alert. My spine tingles with the sense that something is not right here. As they approach my truck, parked in an area of the lot without much street light, I slowly open the door and step out.

  14

  Whitney

  I only see him standing by the truck at the last moment. I’ve been walking across the lot with my head down, eyes on the ground while I probe my brain for an idea. Seems like I’m always trying to hatch a plan to escape a man these days.

  Except now it’s clear to me how stupid I’ve been. I never really wanted to escape Blaze. I really didn’t make too much of an effort to do it. I didn’t even dislike his SEAL buddy either. It was more that he was my focus for all things angry with the world.

  I’ll never get the chance to apologize to him for my rudeness now. Jarke is taking me back to the east coast. He says he’s got some special ‘runs’ he wants me to do for him - dangerous runs where if I’m caught, which is likely, I could go to prison for life.

  We only stopped at the bar for him to pick up some money he was owed. A day in town and he’s already found eager clients. Or else he pushed some poor guy just out of rehab and finding the normal is too much to bear. I have been stupid on so many levels.

  I have no idea what Blaze is doing here outside the bar. Whether he knew we were inside and waited for us to emerge or whether he’s planning to go inside and drown his sorrows at meeting a woman who’d betray his trust the first chance she got.

  His eyes are fixed on my face as we come close to him. We have to pass to reach Jarke’s rental car. I want to run to the safety of him. I long to feel his strong arms envelop me and make this go away. But then I’m terrified because Jarke has a gun, currently stuck in my back in case I try to run for it as I did earlier today. Blaze can’t see the gun so he probably thinks I’m a willing accomplice to Jarke.

  I flare my gaze at him, trying to communicate the danger he’s in if he speaks. If Jarke realizes Blaze and I are a thing. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so eager to get back down of that mountain Jarke would never have found me. I’d be as disappeared from society as Blaze and Tank are. That seems like absolute heaven right now.

  Blaze is looking at me like he’s questioning why I ghosted on him. After all our levels of communication, why hadn’t I said a thing? Why did I have to run off without a word?

  There’s no way out except to pass close by him. Nor can I run to his safe protection while I’m held captive. I’m not sure I even deserve that now.

  “Evening Whit.” He mutters when we’re about five feet away. “Long day?”

  “Blaze.” I whisper and don’t dare utter another word for fear of the metal digging into my spine. Not so much for me as for him who is completely unaware. Please don’t let him make a play here. If anything happens to him because of me I won’t be able to live with myself.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Sweetie?” Jarke demands. I feel the tension in the man at my side but I see it plain as pumpkin on Blaze’s face.

  “Blaze, this is…” I splutter but get no further.

  Saying his name makes my throat choke off with emotion. I also can’t bear to utter Jarke’s hated moniker. I really would conflate it to say ‘jerk’.

  Seeing Blaze right now makes me realize that the strength of how much I needed him all day. It wasn’t only due to wishing and praying he’d come snatch me again. How grateful I’d be for that this time.

  I missed him.

  His hand guiding me in the small of my back, his wry grin, even his terse silences.

  Not to mention his incredible body and how he felt buried inside me as his hands covered every inch of me. Even his hillbilly shack up there at the tree line seems like paradise in comparison to what I’ve endured today. And it’s only going to get worse.

  Jarke has guaranteed me that.

  “Jarke.” He extends a free hand to Blaze then withdraws it when Blaze ignores it. “We must move along. I’m taking Whitney back home. It’s time, isn’t it Babe?”

  “No.” Blaze flatly states. “You’re not.”

  My heart races fast but I look at Blaze and plead silently for him to return my gaze. I need to let him know what danger is present. But he keeps his glance fixed on Jarke, an intense rage like I’ve never seen burns him up, although not enough that I fail to detect an intense pain in his eyes.

  I can only communicate with my gaze and I recall how Blaze said he’d read everything I wanted in my eyes through the truck’s window. If only he’d look at me now. More than anything I don’t want him to be hurt by my actions.

  “What’s it to you Bro, what my girl is gonna do?” Jarke snarks.

  “Because she’s not your girl. Bro.”

  “Tell him, Whit.” Jarke commands. His wiry limbs are tense and I see he wants to avoid a problem with this powerhouse man who shows no fear of him.

  I see the hairs literally rise on the back of Blaze’s neck as he hears another man tell me what to do. I can see the conflicted emotions battle their way through every limb. But he won’t look directly at me. His eyes never budge from Jarke’s snaky stare.

  I can’t speak.

  Jarke will kill me. Or worse, he’ll kill Blaze.

  “Are you his girl?” Blaze asks me. My eyes widen, trying to let him know.

  “Can’t you see she is?” Jarke answers for me.

  “I asked Whitney.” Blaze cuts him off.

  Jarke jabs his weapon harder in my back so I have no choice. But in that tiny movement, Blaze is fully aware of the weapon.

  I shout loud to him; “I’m your girl.”

  It all happens instantaneously.

  Blaze jabs his fist up into Jarke’s throat, then spins around and kicks backward so that the gun flies from Jarke’s grasp. He twists again so that Jarke’s arm goes into a lock hold making him scream like a stuck beast. Then he goes down on the ground.

  He stomps him, advising him to stay down then comes to take me in his arms. I melt into his solid chest and lap up the safety of his embrace.

  “Am I wrong in reading you again, and this piece of shit really is who you want to be with?”

  “You.” I tell him. “Only you.”

  “Good. So I didn’t misread you this time.”

  “You’ve never misread me.” I reply.

  His eyes bat to mine and a huge grin sweeps across his delectable mouth.

  “I will fucking kill you for this, Whitney.” Jarke squeals.

  Like the snake he is, Jarke belly crawled while we were engrossed in a reunion and reached the gun. It’s now pointed straight up at us. Blaze takes one step and places himself in front of me so I’m fully shielded by his chest wall.

  His hands reach behind him, holding my hips in place, ensuring I remain still. Whether to protect me or because he suspects I might go to Jarke I don’t know. Either way, he’s keeping me pinned at his back. With the gun pointed right at us however, it’s over.

  There’s no way out of this.

  A loud roar sounds from far away down the street. The rumble of it makes Jarke startle. For a moment I think, and hope, that he’ll drop the gun but no such luck. The noise is loud enough to shake the houses though. Some kid roaring up and down the main drag on his new bike.

  I lean closer to Blaze, wanting the connection of his muscular power. His body is hard with tension, ready to make a move the second a chance arises. He seems remarkably calm, almost confident.

  The noise is almost on top of us. A low slung bike, matte allover-black down to the exhausts carves around the corner. Jarke is in confusion, and I fear he’s about to shoot out of the fear of losing his advantage. The bike bends a curve so the rider is almost to the ground. All hell breaks loose.

  Jarke looks back and forth between Blaze and the bike’s rider - Tank.

  “I thought you’d never get here.” Blaze quips.

  “You didn’t exactly leave the co-ordinates for your current positions.” Tank says with his cocky grin.

  Seri
ously you guys. This is not the time to joke around. Jarke may be a skinny-looking wretch but he’s mean AF and won’t hesitate to shoot us all.

  Before I’ve even finished along that line of thinking, the two hunks share a minute signal and move in. Their joint maneuveur is almost poetic, or balletic, if SEALs can be that lyrical. Moving as one oiled machine with all parts functioning in unison, they take down Jarke before he’s even gathered his wits enough to pull the trigger.

  When he does get it together, his shot fires wildly up in the air. Still, Blaze pulls me down to the ground, using his own body as both shield and soft, not soft, landing.

  Jarke starts to scream one of his threats at me but is silenced when Tank fists his tee shirt in one hand and punches him in the mouth with the other, in three sharp thrusts. Jarke goes thumping back down to the ground and Tank stands over him. He’s intimidating him into staying down with his impressive stature.

  “Target neutralized.” He says. I can’t help it, I want to giggle so bad even though I’m shaking with nerves. Jarke looks like a scrawny wimp compared to Tank. He definitely deserves his nickname, wherever it came from.

  “You are in no position to make threats. Not to my woman or any woman. You feel me?” Blaze says ominously. “Bro.” He looks at me. “What do you want me to do with this ass….?”

  Part of me would like to see Jarke kicked into a pulp but I don’t want Blaze or Tank to get into any trouble.

  “Leave him.” I say. “Let’s just go home.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Tank seems doubtful, like he’d prefer to do the pulping thing.

  “Yes. I’m sure.” I say. “He’s not that important.”

  “Stay down if you know what’s good for you.” Tank hisses at Jarke.

  “If I see you’re still in town at daybreak, my buddy here won’t be so magnanimous.” Blaze barks down at him. “Now say thank you to the lady for saving your sorry ass.”

  Jarke looks like he’d rather take a bullet but a toekick from Tank nudges him into compliance.