Blind Fury Read online

  Mick stepped in. “She’s staying with me.”

  Jenna’s head snapped around. “I am?” It was the first he’d said about it.

  So much for never seeing him again after today.

  Tara nodded solemnly, a gleam in her eye. “Good idea. He can keep you safe better than I can.”

  “And I don’t want to bring you into this,” Mick said, using the one argument that Jenna couldn’t counter. She’d never willingly put her friend in danger.

  “He’s right,” Jenna said reluctantly, giving Tara a quick hug. “Be careful with Colin this weekend. And just say no,” she whispered into her friend’s ear. After a string of one-night stands, Tara had made a new rule: no sex on the first date. Colin would be her first test.

  “Yes, Mom.” Tara scowled playfully, then turned serious. “Stay safe. I’ll talk to you Sunday.”

  Mick watched her leave. “I guess you’re not going to tell her to keep away from Colin,” he said.

  Jenna turned to face him. “She’s a grown woman. I can’t order her around, especially not based on your vague distrust of the guy.”

  “Yeah,” Mick sighed. “I know.” He squeezed her shoulders, kneading them with his strong hands. “How are you holding up?” he asked quietly, his bright blue eyes searching hers.

  She shrugged free and turned away as tears threatened again. She might never be okay again, but she was done crying. “I’m fine.” The light dimmed as a cloud blocked out the sun, and the breeze chilled her skin. She rubbed her arms, suddenly frozen to the core.

  All around, fake flowers fluttered in their urns, bright spots in the calm of the endless green lawn. So many lives reduced to brass plaques and plastic petals.

  Mick wrapped his arms around her from behind, chasing the ice from her veins. He didn’t speak. He just held her, and this time she didn’t fight him. How easy it would be to let him take care of her, make all the hard decisions.

  Too easy.

  Not that he wanted the job. He was good when he was around, but he didn’t ever stick around. Jenna had watched him go through a string of women over the last several years, and she had no desire to be another of his throwaway girls.

  Somehow she’d find the strength to stand on her own.

  Jenna pulled free from Mick’s embrace again, leaving him cold and empty. She shuffled toward the deep hole in the ground where Rob’s casket lay, as if reluctant to say goodbye to her brother. He could relate. Rob had been his best friend since basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio.

  Seeing right through Mick’s carefree act, Rob had slowly begun chipping away at the walls Mick had built to protect himself. Because after watching his asshole dad charm everyone around him into believing he was some paragon of virtue, Mick had gotten into the habit of using his own brand of charm to keep people at a distance.

  Rob had sealed their friendship by saving Mick’s ass during an inspection. When he applied for PJ training a year later, Mick signed up right after him. They’d agreed that it was the perfect job, combining the adrenaline rush of jumping into a hot zone—sometimes fighting their way out—and saving lives. As a PJ, Mick had been too busy rescuing other people to worry about his own sorry existence. Nothing put life into perspective like war.

  But now Rob was gone. They hadn’t had a lot of heart-to-heart talks. Guys didn’t do that shit, at least not guys like them. But somehow Rob had understood and accepted him for who he was. And that was a hell of a lot more than he’d ever gotten from his old man, who’d always taken the slightest excuse to whale on him.

  He was close to Kurt and Dan, but Rob was the person who had known him best. Losing him was like being set adrift with no life raft. If not for Jenna, he might have let himself drown. Say, in a bottle of Guinness. Or Jack. But whether she wanted him around or not, she needed him. Which changed everything.

  The thought made his heart pound.

  He joined her at the gravesite, but didn’t touch her or offer any more condolences. He’d known her long enough to understand that she hated appearing weak in front of anyone. In fact, that was half of her appeal. Imagining what she’d be like when she finally let go of her inhibitions never failed to excite him.

  Not that he’d ever see it happen outside of his dreams.

  But he would keep his promise to Rob to watch out for her. And he would do everything in his power to see that justice was served. It was the least he could do for the friend he’d failed to save.

  At home after the funeral, Tara changed into sweats and flopped onto her overstuffed couch, pushing aside a stack of magazines with her feet to make room on the coffee table. She’d filled her townhome with all the frills and flowers and knickknacks she could fit, but it wasn’t enough.

  Her heart was still empty.

  Alone on a Friday night. It would be the first one she’d spent solo in a long time, but she was proud of herself for turning down Phil from Marketing. Although, if she were honest, he probably shouldn’t count since she wouldn’t have gone out with him anyway. He thought much too highly of himself.

  Now Colin Di Ferio was another matter. That was one handsome hunk of man. Too bad he hadn’t asked her out for tonight. She so did not want to be alone, especially after the funeral. A distraction was definitely in order. Not one to be shy, she might have called Colin herself, but he already had plans for the evening.

  Though she hadn’t mentioned it to Jenna, she and Colin had already made firm plans for Saturday night. Tacky maybe, given where they’d met, but it wasn’t like she’d actively been looking to hook up at Rob’s service. The connection between her and Colin had been instant, though, and she wasn’t going to ignore that, funeral or not.

  It was amazing that she and Jenna were even friends, given how different they were. But they’d immediately clicked when they met during their new-hire orientation at QDS. Maybe it was because they balanced each other out. Jenna’s quiet, methodical style reined in Tara’s impulsive, outgoing nature. In turn, Tara pushed her friend to get out of her comfort zone.

  Still, when she wanted to really let loose, there were other friends she called. She flipped through the contacts on her cell phone. It was only six. Maybe some of the girls from work were still available to go barhopping. If nothing else, she needed a drink. Thinking about Rob in that casket…well, she couldn’t.

  Truth be told, she’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Nothing serious, but his death had brought home her own mortality in a way she had no desire to think about. Not tonight, not ever.

  The phone vibrated in her hand and she almost dropped it out of surprise. “Shit.” She fumbled and caught it, taking a deep breath before answering.

  “Hey. It’s Colin.”

  Her body heated. Had he read her mind? “Hey, yourself,” she said in her calmest voice. He didn’t need to know how excited she was to hear from him. Especially if he was calling to cancel. “What’s up?”

  “The guys I was going to hang out with tonight bailed. Any chance you’re free?”

  She wasn’t sure whether she should be perturbed that he thought she wouldn’t have Friday night plans, or ecstatic that he wanted to see her again so soon. Probably a bit of both, but she opted for the latter. “As it turns out, I am,” she said. “What’d you have in mind?”

  Jenna stared at her green front door, the one she’d painted to match the fake shutters that flanked every window on her home. Hers was the center unit of five attached homes with alternating brick and vinyl facades that made up a large section of multi-family buildings in her subdivision.

  As much as she’d once loved this place and made it her own, she had no desire to go inside now.

  The police had come after the funeral, declared her house safe, and left. But she’d never feel safe there again. Not after it had been so violated. Not after the thugs had torn apart everything, right down to the boxes in her garage.

  Now she needed to take inventory for the cops and let them know if anything was missing. And she n
eeded a list for her insurance company too.

  “You don’t have to do this today,” Mick said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It can wait until morning.”

  She opened the door. “I’d rather get it over with.” She really needed him to remove his hand so she could think again. Despite the purple shadows under his eyes, he looked as handsome as ever in the dark slacks and button-down shirt that didn’t seem capable of containing all his energy. She got the impression that if his silk tie came undone, he’d explode.

  “Okay, let’s get the groceries into your car first. We can take them to my place.” He moved away—both a relief and a regret—and grabbed the bags they’d left in the foyer before the funeral. “Pop the door and I’ll load them up.”

  She unlocked the car with the key fob and closed the front door to the house before following him down the stairs and across the small patch of grass that served as a lawn. He stopped a foot short of her Volvo—her own personal armored vehicle—and held up his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, pushing by him to reach for the door handle. Adrenaline flooded her system and she bit back a scream. The seats had been slashed, their foam peeking out like fat from under split skin, exposing the metal skeleton beneath. She stumbled backwards and Mick caught her. “They came back,” she sobbed. “They came back.”

  Was this the reason they’d been followed earlier? So that these animals would know when she was out of the house? That part at least made sense. But what the hell did they want? And why had they destroyed everything?

  Mick tugged her toward his car. “We’ll call the police from my place.”

  She had no desire to stick around, so she followed without a fight when he started to climb the grassy hill toward his car. They were ten feet away when something slammed into her back. Confused, she blinked and stared at the blades of grass in front of her nose. When had she fallen?

  A roaring whoosh sounded to her right and she angled her head for a better view. Her brick-faced colonial, sandwiched between a unit with tan siding and another with white—the home she had once shared with her brother, the home that held everything in the world that was dear to her—roared with flames that danced skyward, blending with the sunset.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ADRENALINE RUSHED THROUGH MICK’S veins as he hauled Jenna over the small hill and covered her with his body, head down and hands over his neck. Gunfire popped around him and the sound of crackling flames filled the night. He groped for his M4 and his radio and then froze, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Virginia. He was in Virginia, not Afghanistan. “Shit.”

  He raised his head quickly to take in the scene. Jenna’s townhome was burning. The popping sounds were coming from inside. It wasn’t gunfire, though, probably just gases being released as her things burned. Neighbors were running around, shouting and talking on their cell phones. There were no bloody bodies or burning Humvees. No insurgents with rifles. No IEDs buried in the road. He was in Virginia.

  Jenna’s house should not have exploded, but they hadn’t been inside, thank God.

  She moaned beneath him and he scrambled up so she could breathe, running his hands along her body to check for wounds. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be when you quit molesting me,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  He breathed a little easier. She sounded okay. “If I were molesting you, honey, you’d know it.” He removed his hands. “I didn’t feel anything serious, but let me know if something starts to hurt.” Pushing to his feet, he catalogued his own body, well aware that adrenaline could mask the pain of a serious injury. Other than a few scratches and bruises, he was in one piece. “Wait here while I make sure everyone else is safe.”

  Sirens pierced the night with their plaintive howl as he raced toward the blaze. His left knee protested, but the rest of his body performed without complaint. He’d dealt with worse. He approached the group of people huddled near the building. “Is everyone out?”

  “Everyone except for the girl who lived in this unit,” said an older woman. “I don’t know if she was home, but her car’s here,” she added, her eyes shimmering in the flames.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. O’Malley,” Jenna said as she walked up from behind him. “We weren’t inside.”

  The woman stepped forward and pulled Jenna into her arms. “The explosion rocked the house, and I had no idea what it was, but then I saw the fire. I was so scared for you…”

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna said, caught up in the woman’s embrace. “I hope there’s not too much damage to your place.”

  Unbelievable. Her house had just been annihilated and she was consoling her neighbor.

  “What happened?” Mrs. O’Malley asked.

  “I don’t know.” Jenna stared at the flames as if they might hold the answers. She had to be wondering if this was related to the break-in earlier. As he was.

  “I’m just glad you’re okay, dear. First your brother and now this… You must be reeling.” Mrs. O’Malley let her go with a pat on the arm, shaking her head in sympathy.

  “It hasn’t been my best day,” Jenna said, watching the flames lick at the roof, her back rigid as she hugged herself.

  Mick reached out to steady her, afraid that she might collapse, but he needn’t have worried. She was stronger than he gave her credit for, stronger than he could comprehend. He marveled that she could have a sense of humor about such a disaster, but it would go a long way toward helping her recover. He itched to wrap her up and carry her to safety, but she wouldn’t let him. Of that he was certain.

  Instead, he watched in horrified fascination as the vinyl siding on the neighbors’ homes melted like wax at the corners, reminding him of a stroke victim’s face—smiling on one side, sagging on the other.

  Before long, the firefighters arrived, quickly blocking off a perimeter around the building and moving the crowd back so they could get to work with their hoses. EMTs checked the bystanders for injuries and cleaned the small cuts on Jenna’s hands and face. They gave Mick an ice pack for his knee.

  Shortly thereafter, the police interviewed them. The detective looked skeptical when Jenna insisted she had no idea who might have targeted her. Was she involved with some shady crime group? Did she have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?

  Ordinary people did not have their homes ransacked and then blown up.

  After the interrogation, Jenna watched silently as the fire crew worked, until nothing was left of her home but wet ash and smoke-blackened brick. A disaster cleanup crew arrived to board up the windows and cover the roof with a tarp.

  “I’m not sure why they’re bothering. There’s nothing left.” She clenched her fists and pressed her lips tight, fighting for control.

  Mick beat down the urge to hold her again. When he thought about how easily she could have been killed… He didn’t want to care so much, hadn’t known he was still capable of caring so much.

  “Let’s go. You must be exhausted.”

  She hugged herself as she stared at the remains of her home. The street was no longer filled with gawking spectators, the people in the neighborhood having returned to their regularly scheduled lives.

  He gently pushed her along toward his car, which had been protected from damage by the low berm and a large truck that was parked next to it.

  Back at his condo fifteen minutes later, he prodded her to take a shower, gave her a T-shirt and boxers to wear to bed, and dug up a travel toothbrush. Other than thanking him, she didn’t speak to him at all. Nor did she cry. He knew the numb feeling all too well. In war, you either learned to distance yourself from the horror or you put a bullet in your head.

  Hours after he’d tucked her beneath the covers on his futon, Mick woke with a start, his heart pounding after a dream he couldn’t remember. Whatever it was about, it had left him gasping with feelings of pain and loss.

  Too anxious to lie still, he crept into the living room to check on Jenna. In the dim light filtering through the wind
ow, she looked up at him, her eyes dry but wide with fear. Not of him though. She didn’t shrink away when he slipped under the covers next to her.

  Instead, she let him wrap around her like a cloak, and relaxed into his embrace with a small sigh. Within minutes, her breathing was deep and even, and the anxious creases in her face eased away.

  She was beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to her temple, though he managed to control his less dignified urges. Lying with her brought him a kind of peace he’d never experienced, one he needed as much as she did. One of his last thoughts before falling asleep was that he’d never just slept with a woman before.

  He was surprised by how much he liked it.

  “This one is my favorite,” Colin said to Tara as they stood in front of the Korean War Memorial.

  The statues glowed gray in the dark, oversized ghosts of a battalion—or regiment or whatever they called it—frozen in motion, stopped in their tracks, just like the men who’d died. It was a bit eerie, really.

  Her first thought when he brought up the idea over dinner in DuPont Circle had been “ugh.” Even for a former commando, visiting the monuments seemed a bit cliché. But she’d been wrong. It was powerful, moving, and somehow romantic. Most guys would have taken her to a movie or a loud bar. How were you supposed to get to know someone when you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts?

  They’d spent the last two hours strolling beside the reflecting pool under the canopy of trees, talking about everything and nothing. He was the oldest of four boys and had grown up in Illinois. He’d been in the Army and served with Troy Griffin before a knee injury forced him out of Airborne. Griffin had invited him to join Claymore from the very beginning, and he’d jumped at another chance to join the fight against the Taliban and insurgents.

  “Our role is different as private security contractors. We’re more of a protective detail, either for people, equipment, or buildings. And sometimes we train the local police forces. But every once in a while, we get to do our part to reduce the terrorist population,” he’d told her.