Kindred Spirits (Baker City Hearts & Haunts Book 5) Paranormal Ghost Military Romance by Josie Malone ➱ Book Tour with Rafflecopter
Two soldiers devastated by heartache, decide to rescue themselves with a fake marriage...
Kindred Spirits
Baker City Hearts & Haunts Book 5
by Josie Malone
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Military Romance
Eight
years later, she’s leaving the U.S. Army behind, trading her camos
and combat boots for blue jeans and cowgirl boots. Now, the owner of
Miracle Riding Stable near Baker City, Washington, Debbie intends to
have a riding good time at her new home. Does having a new life mean
leaving Major Rex Sinclair behind?
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Ghost of the Past
Baker City Hearts & Haunts Book 4
Former
Marine, Durango Hawke never thought he’d spend years trekking
through the jungles of South America looking for his missing brother,
or that duty to his family would cost him the love of his
life.
Heather McElroy grew up dreaming of a country music
career but followed her childhood sweetheart into the military
instead. Now, back in civilian life, it’s finally time to put
herself first.
When Durango leaves on his latest rescue
mission, he assumes she’ll be waiting when he returns.
Will
chasing her dreams cost Heather the love of her life?
**Don't miss the rest of the series! **
Kindred
Spirits – Excerpt
Prologue
May
2011
“Sir!
We need to talk!”
Recognizing
the low, feminine voice as that of the new noncom in charge of the warehouse he
operated, Captain Rex Sinclair glanced over his shoulder at the woman in
camouflage fatigues standing behind him.
“No good conversation ever started with those words, Sergeant Ramsey.”
He gestured to the seat next to him. “Pull up a stool before you tell me what
an asshat I am, and I’ll buy you a drink. I’m having boilermakers. Want one?”
“No thanks. At least we agree on something,
sir. Your behavior is execrable, sir and unbefitting an Army officer.” She sat
down, next to him, carefully placing her regulation handbag on the bar. She
narrowed the electric-blue eyes that haunted him twenty-four, seven and glared
at him. “You bailed on me, sir. You know
there’s an I.G. inspection at 0800 hours tomorrow. You should have stuck
around, sir, and helped prep for it, not hightailed it before closing
formation.”
“I’m
getting a divorce and the call from the lawyer today pissed me off. My going to
be ex-wife wants beaucoup bucks. Beyond child support for the kids, she isn’t
getting a dime.”
“Everything
pisses you off, sir. Ranting, raging and yelling obscenities at the top of your
lungs is inappropriate, sir, when we have work to do.”
Rex
winced, reaching for the shot glass of whisky in front of him. Sergeant First
Class Deborah Ramsey was tired. He saw the exhaustion in her pale, lovely
features. She’d undoubtedly been working ever since he stormed out of the
warehouse. In the past month while assigned to his section, she always arrived
before he did and stayed long after he left. She hadn’t gone to the barracks to
change out of her camouflage fatigues before tracking him down at this
ramshackle tavern. “You’re not letting this go, are you, Ramsey? Are you sure
about that boilermaker? You probably need it.”
“No,
thanks. I’m not drinking whisky and following it with a beer chaser.” She
folded her arms and frowned even more fiercely. “It’s ‘sergeant’s business’ to
train junior officers. You know that’s second lieutenants fresh out of college.
If you need somebody to wipe your tail or your nose, it’s not me. Man up, sir!”
He
tossed down the whisky and took a hasty swallow of the waiting beer, struggling
to collect his thoughts. He’d been drinking since afternoon and now it was well
into the night. “Cut me some slack, Sarge. My wife, soon to be ex-wife
introduced me to what she said was my six-month-old daughter when I got off the
plane three months ago. Made a big splash on national TV.”
“You’ve
obviously mistaken me for someone who cares, sir. I don’t. Not about your
piddly personal problems – .”
“I’d
been gone for a year and a half. When I had a week’s R & R, she wouldn’t
meet me in New York and now, I know why. She told me she couldn’t get anyone to
stay with the other four kids, that the housekeeper was away on vacation. My
wife lied to me. She was pregnant with someone else’s kid.”
“Again,
I don’t care.” Sergeant Ramsey held up her hand. “You have choices, sir.
Divorce her. Reconcile with her. But stop throwing tantrums. You’re grown. Put
on your big boy panties and act like a commissioned officer up for promotion.”
“And
it’s an ‘embrace the suck’ moment, isn’t it?” He finished his beer and signaled
the bartender for a refill. “You deserve a better C.O., Ramsey. If you want a
transfer, I’ll sign the request.”
“We
can’t both run away, sir. You requested the job here in Texas instead of
returning to California after your last combat tour – .”
“Everybody
knows my business there. I wanted a fresh start.”
“Then
act like it.” Sergeant Ramsey nodded at the bartender when she approached,
carrying another two glasses, his next boilermaker. “What kind of white wine do
you have?”
“Put it on my tab,” Rex said. “If the
sergeant’s gonna keep ripping me a new one, she needs dinner to go with it. I
know she skipped lunch and I’m pretty sure she hopped supper too. Better give
us a menu.”
“It’s
almost 2300 hours,” Sergeant Ramsey said. “Isn’t the kitchen closed?”
“Not
yet. You have ten minutes to select a burger and fries.” The sturdy,
gray-haired older woman handed over a grease-stained sheet of paper. “Choose
fast, honey.” She glanced at Rex. “Might want to sop up some of that booze with
food, Captain.”
“Good
idea.” Rex waited until they had fresh drinks before he gestured to a table on
the other side of the room. “Let’s move over there to eat. You can bring me up
to speed on what still needs to be done for the inspection.”
“It’s
hopeless, sir.” She followed him across the tavern, bypassing the men at the
pool table. “I could only clean up so much of the mess in the month I’ve been
at the warehouse. Your previous N.C.O.I.C. retired. Scuttlebutt is he didn’t
want to put up with you a moment longer.”
Rex
pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down. “Unfortunately, there’s more
truth than fiction to that story, Ramsey. We’re both fairly new at this base.
How do we salvage the situation?”
“I
don’t know.” She heaved a sigh. “If it’s like other posts where I’ve served in
the last ten years, the senior Army officers won’t care about the crap-fest in
our section. They’ll want optimum results whether it’s reasonable or not. So,
I’ll get the proverbial ass-chewing tomorrow. It’s annoying, but it can’t be
helped.”
“You’ve
done your best to rectify a bad situation.” Rex gestured to her wine. “Drink
up. I’ve got your six, Sarge. I know I haven’t been doing my share, but it
isn’t reasonable to expect us to clean up something this broken in such a short
amount of time.”
“It’s
not the troops’ fault. They’ve done their best with the minimal, erratic
leadership they’ve been receiving.”
“I
know that as well as you do. You need more support from the non-commissioned
side of the house, so let’s see what we can do to get it.”
She
hesitated. “I’m not here for much longer, sir. This is a transition assignment.
I’ll be shipping out to Afghanistan before the end of the year. I don’t have my
orders yet, but they’ll be coming through soon enough.”
“You’ll
be missed.” He paused, waiting for their meals to be placed in front of them.
“Let’s eat and then we’ll work out a plan.”
“That’s
do-able, sir.”
***
More than once
during the next half-hour, Debbie Ramsey reminded herself to focus on the
cheeseburger and fries in front of her, rather than staring at the
broad-shouldered, dark-haired man in combat fatigues sitting across from her.
It’s not my fault he’s a hunk and a half. She couldn’t help admiring his
rough-hewn features, the strong cheekbones and, from an earlier combat tour,
the broken nose. His previous noncom had told her Sinclair was injured from an
I.E.D, but luckily all his troops survived the assault. If they hadn’t, she’d
have heard about it. Army bases ran on gossip too.
She hadn’t
expected him to admit he'd been irresponsible at the warehouse or to buy her
dinner. Granted, he was in a ‘sticky wicket’ as her best friend would have
said. Debbie knew that long before she’d heard him shouting at a lawyer through
a closed office door today. The conversation ended with Sinclair roaring he
wasn’t paying his ex-wife the alimony she wanted. He’d demanded DNA tests on all
five of the kids she’d foisted off on him, especially the daughter born when he
was away for more than eighteen months in Afghanistan, the one obviously
conceived when he was out of CONUS and his wife’s mind and life.
Debbie swirled a
French fry in a pool of ketchup. It wasn’t as if Sinclair was lying about his
failed marriage. She’d heard yet another sad story from a different noncom. The
captain’s wife was a serial cheater who’d slept around on more than one base
and when her affairs resulted in pregnancies, Sinclair ended up with his name
on the birth certificates. Still, he
needed to do his job just like she did. If he yelled, ‘bullshit’ one more time
when everything went from sugar to shit in less than a heartbeat, she’d tell
him again to freaking ‘man up’.
After he slammed
down the phone this afternoon, he’d stormed into the warehouse and raged at a
civilian driver delivering a load who’d unfortunately parked in the wrong
space. The poor woman burst into tears which meant it took even longer to get the
semi-truck moved to where it should have been in the first place. Debbie had
stepped in and smoothed over the situation.
It hadn’t gained
her any points with the man in charge. Everyone around heard another stream of
repeated ‘bullshits’ and ‘f-bombs’ before he swept out of the building,
shouting his favorite words at full volume.
She’d worked the rest of the day and most of the night, grateful not to
deal with his tantrums or so-called supervision. When she couldn’t finish
everything that needed to be done at the warehouse in time, she’d decided to
tour the small town near the base and track him down at his favorite
watering-hole.
“All right. We’ve
eaten.” She sipped the remains of her favorite Zinfandel. “What’s it going to
take for you to step up and do your job, sir?”
“I’ll do my best
not to lose it from now on, Ramsey.” Rex lifted the glass of beer. “I’m
worried. I miss my kids. I need a guaranty I won’t go back to California. It’s
hard to deal with Averill cheating on me when I never chippied on her. Not in
fifteen years.”
“That’s a better
track record than most men have.” Debbie met his golden-brown gaze. He’d shown
his vulnerability and she could do the same. “Tell you the truth, sir. I’m
apprehensive about going back to the sandbox this time. I don’t have anyone in
CONUS to look after my business matters.”
“No family?”
Debbie shook her
head. “My grandparents have health issues, and I don’t want to burden them.
They’ve been looking after my horses and I’m not sure if they’ll be able to
handle them for the next year and a half.”
“Maybe.” He paused
and studied her. “We could help each other out.”
“How do we do
that?”
“I need a new wife
when my divorce is final in September. If I’m married, I won’t do something
stupid and get reeled back into more drama. And if I’m your husband, you can
trust me to look after your concerns.”
“Are you serious?”
She stared at him, hoping her jaw didn’t hit the table. “Sir, that’s the most
ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You may want a wife on paper, but I can’t see
how a ‘paper’ husband could help me.” She paused, recalling her turbulent life
before she enlisted. Then again, it could resolve a few issues I don’t like to
remember.
“Well, at least
you didn’t refuse.” He chuckled, finished his beer, and then stood. “Come on,
Ramsey. Let’s call it a night. I have a few months before my divorce is final
and you leave the States. I’ll convince you it’s a life-saver for both of us.”
“Not
happening, sir.” Still, the idea made her smile.
***
October
2011
They’d
deliberately honored the thirty-day waiting period required by Texas after his
divorce was final before they married. Rather than let anyone know their plans,
she’d used two weeks’ leave to visit her grandparents before she shipped out.
She’d told them about Rex Sinclair, so they’d know how to contact him if she
didn’t make it home. Then, she met him in Las Vegas.
She’d
always wanted an “Elvis” wedding and luckily, Rex was willing to go along with
the plan without bitching about the kitschy ceremony or the minister happily
singing Elvis songs. Of course, she laughed her backside off when Rex demanded
equal time and the opportunity to reserve a honeymoon suite at the luxury
Bellagio Hotel and Casino. Turnabout was fair play as the saying went. They’d spent
two days together after the ceremony enjoying gourmet meals, gambling, dancing
and of course making love in their suite.
She
always woke up early, a leftover habit instilled in childhood when she lived on
her parents’ ranch in Montana. Debbie eased out of the king-size bed leaving
him to sleep. She had to pack and be downstairs in an hour to catch the shuttle
to the airport. On her way to the ensuite, the vintage sapphire and diamond
claddagh wedding set on her left hand caught her eye.
He’d
told her it belonged to his grandmother, and she’d made him promise to give it
to his ‘real’ wife, or save it for his oldest daughter, because his granny and
Averill were always at loggerheads. After a quick shower, Debbie opted for
comfortable civilian clothes, jeans, a light blue sweater, and flip-flops. She
braided her hair, added makeup, and returned to the bedroom.
He
must have heard her soft footsteps because he opened his eyes and sat up, the
blanket still covering his lower body. “You’ll be gone by the time I get back
to the base, won’t you?”
Debbie
nodded. “Yes, but I’ll call whenever it’s possible.”
“Likewise.”
When
he held out his hand, she crossed to him. She leaned down and kissed him. “Stay
safe.”
“That’s
my line, Ramsey. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“You
know it, Sinclair.” And she kissed him again. “I’m counting on it.”
PART ONE
Summer 2019
CHAPTER
ONE
Master
Sergeant Debbie Ramsey stopped halfway across the parking lot in front of the
warehouse to watch the August sunlight brighten Mount Rainier’s beautiful
snowcapped peak. No matter how often she’d seen it in the last ten months she’d
been stationed at Fort Clark, the sight always made her feel at peace, that
everything was right with her world. Yes, she knew the ancient mountain was a
volcano, part of the Pacific Ring of Fire and sleeping before it erupted again.
Sometimes, she felt like that herself.
She
drew a deep breath of the warm afternoon air and continued to stroll toward the
large building where she’d work for the next three days until her current
enlistment ended. She’d taken two weeks off in April to close the deal on the
riding stable she’d bought near Baker City in the Cascade foothills, then
taught horse camp for two weeks in June and three more in July. She was running
out of leave, but that didn’t actually matter since she wasn’t staying in the
Army.
On
Saturday morning, she’d be free to follow what she often thought of as an
impossible dream. Now, she had to find a way to share her upcoming departure
with the soldiers she supervised. They’d be fine, but what about her commanding
officer? He’d certainly notice she was gone when he wanted something. He’d
begun complaining about her using up her leave in what he called “dribs and
drabs” rather than taking it all at once, but she told him it was easier to
pick up the slack after short spurts rather than cleaning up various messes
when she was gone for an extended period of time.
Smiling,
she hurried up the concrete stairs near the end of the long building. Inside,
she paused long enough to remove her camouflage cap. She glanced at the loading
area and breathed a sigh of relief when she noted the last delivery of military
supplies from the night before had already been stored. One less hassle. She
headed for the hallway that led to the offices at the far end of the warehouse.
She’d
barely reached the entry door when a familiar bellow assaulted her ears. Debbie
grimaced. She’d only been away two hours. How did hell break loose so soon?
“Damn
it, Petrie. This is bullshit. Where’s Ramsey?”
“She
left for an appointment.” The other man sounded perfectly calm. “What was I
supposed to do when the MP’s showed up, Major Sinclair?”
“It’s
bullshit, Petrie. You’re giving me bullshit.”
Debbie
pushed open the door, glimpsing the vintage sapphire and diamond claddagh ring
she always wore on her left hand. She stepped into the large room that doubled
as her office and that of the young company clerk who thankfully had a dentist
appointment and wasn’t here to see the major make a fool of himself again.
Silently, she watched the broad-shouldered man in combat fatigues rampage
toward her desk, still chanting his favorite word.
A
taller, slighter, younger officer with perfectly styled black hair wearing the
Army service uniform, their version of a business suit, turned to face her.
Lieutenant Petrie annoyed her on so many levels, not the least of which was his
insistence on refusing to wear the same uniform—camo fatigues that she and
everyone else did to work in the warehouses.
Petrie
nodded at her. “Sergeant Ramsey, do something with him.”
“Is
that an order, sir?” Debbie opted for her most professional tone but didn’t
wait for an answer. Instead, she walked across the room, stopping where she’d
be in the major’s way.
For
a moment, she allowed herself to admire how he filled out his fatigues and then
met his golden-brown gaze when he swung around to face her. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Ramsey,
where have you been? Don’t you know better than to leave a college-trained,
moron in charge of my warehouses? He can’t even keep the latrines stocked in
toilet paper. It’s bull—”
“Major
Sinclair!” Debbie exclaimed, keeping a straight face. “You wouldn’t swear in
front of a lady?”
Red
seeped into his rough-hewn features, edging the strong cheekbones and from an
earlier time, the broken nose. “Sorry, Ramsey. I forgot you were female.” Rex
Sinclair ran a hand through his short, salt and pepper hair. “Where were you?
That damned Petrie—”
“Major!”
One of these days, Sinclair might catch onto the fact that she could out-swear
any and all of the soldiers working in the supply company, but luckily, he
hadn’t yet.
“I’m
sorry.” Rex repeated his apology and fired a glare in the direction of his
so-called aide. “Lieutenant Petrie had me called off the golf course. I had to
leave the general before we finished our game, and it made me irritable.”
“Yes,
sir.” Debbie sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I’m
sure the first lieutenant didn’t remember how much the general depends on you,
sir.”
“Watch
it, Ramsey.” Humor replaced the anger. “I may have been making a fool of
myself, but you don’t have enough rank to tell me so.”
“It’s
never stopped me before, sir.” She met his gaze and smiled up at him.
He
wasn’t a big man, only four inches taller than her five feet, six inches, but
he carried himself as if he were ten feet tall and bulletproof. Just by looking
she could tell he was a warrior in every sense of the word, the kind of man who
picked himself up when he was knocked down, ready to fight again. At forty-two,
he wasn’t a spring chicken, but then again at almost thirty-five, neither was
she. No wonder she preferred experience.
She
folded her arms. “I don’t know what’s going on here, sir, but I’ll take care of
it.”
“I
know you will.” He paused. “Where were you?”
“My
current enlistment ends in three days, sir. I was at the Recruiting and
Retention Office for my appointment with the non-com in charge there. I asked
the lieutenant to let you know if you returned before I did, but—”
Rex
nodded. “Did you get everything you wanted in your re-enlistment contract? A
bonus, a guarantee that you’ll stay here instead of being transferred or sent
overseas, a promotion? Do you need me to make some calls to ensure you get
everything you want?”
“It
will be fine, sir. There’s quite a bit of paperwork to finish, so I get what I
need, but we can discuss that later.” Debbie glanced at the junior officer
waiting by the door to his office. “Why don’t you get back to your golf game?
Like I said, I’m here now and I’ll stick around to handle any problems that
arise.”
“All
right.” Rex frowned before he stepped around her, his attention on the exit
door. “Wait for me to make the command decisions, Ramsey. If the general could
discuss this in his office, he would.”
“But
the two of you can’t be overheard on the golf course.” Debbie inclined her
head. “We both know how this game is played, sir.”
“I
couldn’t do it without you, Ramsey.” He flashed the sudden smile that always
charmed her, although he didn’t realize it. “I’ll be back for closing
formation. If I’m not—”
“I’ll
handle it,” Debbie repeated.
“Thanks,
Ramsey. I can always count on you.” Rex started for the door.
“If
I’d known how important the game was, I wouldn’t have had you paged, Major,”
Lieutenant Petrie said. “I’m glad Sergeant Ramsey was able to use her womanly
wiles to calm the situation.”
Before
Debbie could respond, Rex did with a bark of sharp laughter. “Ramsey doesn’t
have any of those, Petrie. She’s been in this man’s Army longer than you
have—almost eighteen years—and has more combat experience. When she tells you
to do something, I suggest you try listening to her and actually do it before you
end up in a pine box.” He strode out the door, closing it behind him.
She
could tell that Petrie didn’t take the major’s recommendation seriously. Little
wonder, she preferred Rex Sinclair’s rugged, rawboned features to the pretty
boy glaring at her who figured he was smarter than anybody else on base. The
major was a grown man, and he could certainly take care of himself. He’d proven
it in more than one warzone, although she’d spent the tour here watching his
proverbial six.
It
was a deal they’d made eight years ago, covering each other’s backs since
neither of them had anyone else they could really trust. Granted, he’d have a
fit and fall in it if he knew the rest of the enlisted had disrespectful
nicknames for the junior officer. Debbie had corrected them enough that they
carefully avoided saying, ‘petri-dish’ or ‘that petty looey,’ or ‘chicken-shit
loser’ around her.
“I’m
sorry I wasn’t here to help with the MP’s, sir.” She wouldn’t point out he
could have contacted her on her cell phone, and she was far closer to the
warehouses than the major. “What’s wrong? Did one of the delivery drivers get
lost on base?”
“No.
Two of Major Sinclair’s kids showed up at the front gate and the guards brought
them here. Since he hadn’t left directions for their visit, I had the major
paged. Come to think of it, Master Sergeant, there was nothing you could do.”
Irritation
at his contempt for her position as the ranking non-commissioned officer swept
through her. What had this idiot learned in ROTC at college about sergeants and
their business? Obviously, nothing!
Debbie
struggled to control her temper. Sometimes, I feel like Mount Rainier, and I
just want to explode. Venting isn’t enough.
Three
more days. I can deal with this supercilious jackass for three more days. “Thank
you, sir. If you’ll do the afternoon walk-through of the warehouse now, sir,
I’ll deal with this situation, sir.”
Before
he responded, she entered Major Sinclair’s office, careful to close the door
behind her. She studied the two girls sitting on the chairs in front of the
desk, backpacks and two roller suitcases parked nearby. The closer child, a
smaller, younger one had ash-blonde hair. She huddled in her seat, clutching a
huge toy bear wearing camo fatigues and combat boots. The other girl was older,
a teen in fashionably torn, faded jeans, a pink, ribbed, shrunken t-shirt, and
flip-flops. She had shoulder-length, ebony curls.
Debbie
waited until the pair had finished giving her a solid onceover.
“Hello,
I’m Master Sergeant Ramsey. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but none of us
expected you. Did your dad?”
“We
wanted to surprise him,” the younger child admitted.
“I
see.” Debbie smiled at her. “That’s why I didn’t put your visit on the schedule
for the warehouse personnel. How nice for him.”
“He
didn’t think so,” the older girl snapped, all teen angst. Tears sparkled in the
dark brown eyes, so much like her father’s. “After the cards and gifts, he
sends us, he should have known we wanted to see him regardless of what our
mother says.”
“He
has a lot on his mind.” Debbie crossed the room and leaned against the large
wooden desk. File cabinets lined two of the walls and the blinds were closed on
the windows to block the glare and heat. “The general called him this morning
with a special assignment and it’s all Major Sinclair can think about right
now.”
“We
don’t want to bug him.” The little girl sniffled, then wiped at the tears
trickling from her sky-blue eyes. “It’s just that he hasn’t called us back and
we don’t want to go to boarding school. Our stepdad, Gary, was sending us next
week. I don’t wanna go to New York by myself or be there all alone.”
“Oh,
my Gawd,” Debbie muttered. This added proof to her private philosophy that no
good deed ever went unpunished. When Major Sinclair’s divorce was finalized
almost eight years before, she’d started a mission of sending the five children
appropriate gifts because their father didn’t. He blamed them for their
mother’s errors in judgement regardless of how it made the kids feel.
“I
don’t understand,” Debbie said. “Why would your mom let your stepdad make a
decision like that?”
“Because
Cal left for college last week with Rory and Scott,” the blonde explained,
picking at a hole in the knee of her jeans. “And Gary says he’s done putting up
with us.”
“Who
are they?” Debbie frowned. The names rang a bell, but she wanted to be sure. “I
don’t recognize those names.”
“Our
older brothers.” It was the brunette’s turn. “Dad stuck all of us with names
that begin with the letter, ‘R’, and our housekeeper, Lupe says it’s too
confusing, so she mostly calls us by our middle names. Except for Rory, who
didn’t want to be called by his because he knew too many guys named Dave.”
“Well,
that will make my life easier.” Debbie reached for the box of tissues on the
desk and passed it to the younger girl. “And you are?”
“I’m
Penny. Roberta Penelope.”
The
older girl said, “I’m Rebecca Evangeline. Vangie.”
“Okay.
First things first.” Debbie waited while Penny wiped her face. “Let’s go have
lunch. Your father won’t be back for several hours, and I run the warehouses
when he’s away.”
“You’re
not calling Lupe or our mother or sending us back to California?” Vangie eyed
her warily. “Why not?”
“It
isn’t my place,” Debbie explained. “All I’m supposed to handle are the major’s
professional problems, not his personal ones. Of course, if they affect the
situation and the enlisted troops here, I’m afraid I do have to get involved.”
“And
then what happens?” Penny blew her nose. “Do you call Lupe?”
Debbie
shook her head. “No. If I’m enmeshed in your piddly little issues, I fix them
in my fashion, and you won’t like it. Neither will the major. Luckily for you
and your sister, I spent almost three years in a boarding school before I
enlisted. I wouldn’t recommend a place like it for either of you. I learned
quite a few skills I’m sure your father would prefer you didn’t know.”
“Like
what?” Vangie stared at her with obvious fascination. “Will you share them over
lunch?”
“Don’t
be silly. I don’t know you well enough to tell you how to hot-wire a car or pick
locks or shoplift food, wine, and clothes without being caught on film at
eleven.” Ignoring the astonished giggles behind her, Debbie led the way from
the major’s inner sanctum to the outer office. She looked toward the opening
door and the lieutenant before spotting the stocky, young man who followed him.
“Corporal Baxter, what are you doing here?”
Lieutenant
Petrie answered for the enlisted man. “I told him to come back after his dental
appointment since you weren’t here to answer the phones or check in the
deliveries. He needs to do his job.”
Debbie
counted silently to ten while she listened to the company clerk’s garbled
speech. If she couldn’t understand what he was saying, how would anyone else?
“Did you bring back the slip from the clinic like I asked, Baxter?”
Baxter
nodded and handed her the paper he held. “Doctor said—”
“I
can read, Baxter. No need for gibberish.” She winced at the sight of his
cheeks, swollen like a chipmunk’s from the extractions and the bruise on his
jaw. “The dentist has assigned Corporal Baxter to quarters for the next two
days, Lieutenant. I’m sending him to the barracks. Major Sinclair doesn’t want
his people to work if they’re not in top shape.”
“What
about the phones? Who’s going to answer them?”
“It’s
why we have junior enlisted, sir.” Debbie focused on meeting Baxter’s gaze.
“Stop on your way out and tell Sergeant Nelson to send someone here to answer
the phones and check bills of lading. I don’t want to see you until Friday
morning and only if you’re able to work. If not, call in and rest up over the
weekend.”
“Thanks,
Sergeant Ramsey.”
Lieutenant
Petrie glowered at Debbie as the other man hurried from the office, before
glancing at the teenager and tween beside her. “And what do you intend to do
with Major Sinclair’s children?”
“They’ve
had a long trip here, sir. I intend to feed them and then take them to their
father’s house.” She looked over her shoulder at them.
Backpack
on one arm, suitcase towed behind them, teddy-bear held tight, Penny pressed close to her older sister’s
side and Debbie realized the girl was definitely still a child, despite her
bravado. Vangie on the other hand had on enough makeup for an entire
cheerleading squad, plus three pairs of earrings, a ring in her belly-button,
as well as a tiny stud in her nose. “Let’s see. Penny, you’re—”
“Almost
ten and Van’s fifteen. We’ll be okay by ourselves until Dad gets home, Sergeant
Ramsey. We’ve stayed alone every night since our brothers went to Pullman three
weeks ago. Mom and Gary went to Hawaii ages ago for an extended honeymoon and
Lupe goes home at six.”
“Well,
that’s over.” Debbie lifted her chin, measuring them with her gaze. “I don’t
believe in leaving kids by themselves. Heaven only knows what could happen.”
“How
do you expect to get them in the house, Master Sergeant? Do you have a key?”
Actually,
she did, but she wasn’t telling the lieutenant that. “Don’t worry, sir. We
should be able to get in with the cleaning service or I’ll talk to the
neighbors. Major Sinclair arranged for one of the local boys to take care of
his new puppy and the cat when he’s gone.”
That
issue resolved, Debbie ushered the girls toward the door. “Thanks for being
concerned, sir, but I can handle everything. It’s sergeants’ business.”
BAKER CITY
HEARTS & HAUNTS – BOOK FOUR
GHOST OF
THE PAST
CHAPTER ONE
Baker City, Washington ~ August
2014
“I’m done coming second in
your life, Durango Hawke.”
“Say again, babe. I didn’t get that.”
“You heard me.” Heather
McElroy shifted on the corral rail where she’d perched so he could snap her
photo with his new camera, the one she’d given him for his birthday back in
March. She eyed the tawny-haired man twenty feet away. Six foot, six in his socks,
broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, he carried himself like the Marine he’d been
for six years before he became a soldier of fortune. She’d followed him far too
long.
“Let me spell it out for
you, Hawke. I love you, but it’s my turn now. I’ve been offered a great job and
a recording contract. I’m going to Nashville in time for the Labor Day show.”
“We’ve talked about this.
It’ll have to wait. I need you here to run Hawke Construction when I’m on a
mission for Nighthawke.”
“Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Not anymore. My life has been on hold long enough. I told you I didn’t agree
with rescuing the company when your father ran it into the ground while we were
in Afghanistan, but you had to save the day one more time instead of letting it
go into bankruptcy.”
“The people who’ve worked
there all these years didn’t deserve to lose their retirement when it went down
in flames and I was the only one that could borrow money from the extended
family in Texas.”
“You did what you had to do
because you always have to be the hero, but that’s not my deal. I’ve always
dreamed of being a country singer and now I have a shot. I’m going to Nashville
in two weeks.”
She took a deep breath and
watched the storm build in his navy eyes. Irritation made his rugged, handsome
features harder for her to resist. Blue jeans, boots, and a faded, sleeveless
chambray shirt increased his resemblance to a Madison Avenue cowboy. But there
was nothing plastic about her man!
At 28, almost 29, I have
three combat tours behind me. I’ve been working part-time as a horse trainer
while I rebuild my career as a country singer in the local bars. We were
supposed to move to Nashville as soon as he found a manager for Hawke
Construction, but the damned jarhead didn’t even look for one. He’s too
freaking busy hunting for his brother, the family fave. It’s not like Durango
doesn’t know how much I love music. It’s my turn, damn it!
She tossed her head, long
copper hair flying in the warm breeze. “I’m through nursing you after your
stupid adventures, and I’m definitely done picking up the slack at Hawke
Construction when you’re off in South America. You wouldn’t hire a manager, so
I did.”
“Thanks for the support.”
Sarcasm laced his bass rumble.
Deliberately, she
concentrated on the bandaged left shoulder. Any lower and the bullet would have
hit his heart. As cantankerous as he was, though, she hadn’t asked but knew
he’d taken out the attacker. She wouldn’t let Durango see how he affected her
when he lowered the Nikon and strode toward her.
“I mean it.” She raised her
chin. “No more system support, Hawke, when you return to Colombia on one more
suicide mission. I’m going to Nashville. Someone else will have to patch you
up. Just remember doctors must report gunshot wounds and all cops aren’t
stupid. One might not believe you were hit in a drive-by shooting at a
construction site.”
“Don’t threaten me.” He
stalked closer, menace in each step. “I’ve never taken your crap. It’s why
we’ve stayed together this long.”
“I won’t be here when you
return this time.” Her ultimatum didn’t appear to faze him. His face was
expressionless, a mask that hid any and all emotion. She reached for the
emerald engagement ring on her left hand, began to remove it. “I mean it. I’m
done waiting on the sidelines.”
“Watch it, Heather Marie.
You don’t want to piss me off.”
“I’m not scared of you.” She
shrugged, but stopped toying with the ring. She’d wait. “Save the macho act for
the bunch of mercenaries you run with or one of your cousins. Don’t try to
placate me or act like you think I’m cute when I’m angry. I’m serious.”
She didn’t want to know how
many soldiers of fortune died in the South American jungles. It was bad enough
knowing he might. He was pretty annoyed with her. She could tell by the edge in
his deep voice and the tight line of his strong jaw. He paced closer, boots
soft on the summer grass. Did he think he could intimidate her into silence?
No way! Too bad, too sad! After all those tours as a combat nurse in Iraq and Afghanistan,
does he honestly think his tantrums frighten me?
He stopped in front of her.
The shirt left unbuttoned and open because of the injured shoulder revealed his
neck and tanned, muscular chest. Her gaze narrowed on the bright red scar that
slashed from his right shoulder in a diagonal six-inch line toward his left
nipple. The injury two years ago had been her introduction to his illegal,
dangerous hunt for his younger brother. Granted, Durango was morally right when
he tried to save the day and his bro, but damn it, she wanted him home, safe
with her in Tennessee—not getting himself killed, pursuing a dream and a man
who was undoubtedly dead.
She pointed to the healed
knife wound. “Remember when I stitched that with an upholstery needle and
dental floss? I cleaned it with alcohol first. You yelled like a stuck pig.
Without anesthesia, I know everything I did must have hurt like hell. You
fainted from the pain.”
“Yeah, I passed out. Your
nursing hurt worse than being stabbed. Your point?”
“You didn’t learn anything,
not from the cause or the cure. You still think you can change clothes in a
phone booth. I’m not Lois Lane to your Superman.” She trembled
when he gripped the fence, resting large hands on either side of her. “I’m
right, damn it.”
“You always tell me so.” He
leaned nearer, brushed a kiss over her lips. “It’s why we fight so much. You’re
all spit and vinegar. It makes me horny as hell when you start issuing edicts,
Empress. You’re my pretty little tyrant.”
She tried to turn her head,
but he caught her chin in calloused fingers. “Don’t. I’m not in the mood,
especially when you make fun of me.”
Of course, it’s all too easy
for him to get me in the mood.
“I won’t force you.” He
chuckled. “I don’t have to, and we both know it. This is your pride talking.
It’s why you’ve slept on the couch for the past three weeks. It’s cold comfort
at night, isn’t it? I’ve missed you hogging the covers.”
“As if you really cared. If
I believed that, you’ve got oceanfront property in Arizona like the song says.”
She trembled when he feathered his thumb over her lips. Of course, he didn’t
have a clue that she wasn’t actually sleeping in the living-room. She sat up nights, drinking
vodka while she watched insipid late night movies. Enough booze and she
wouldn’t dream about dying kids who should be anywhere but in the military
trying to survive in a war zone.
“You’ve ignored everything I
said,” Heather went on. “You won’t admit how wrong you are. And you didn’t say
a word when I moved out of the bedroom until I took away the television. Then,
you bitched because you missed laughing at Walker, Texas Ranger, and
your war movies.”
“I’m not stupid. If I said I
needed you every minute of every day, you’d figure you won. And did you think I
wouldn’t find the small flat-screen on the kitchen table? You weren’t even
watching it. You just stole it for spite.”
The mockery in his deep
voice grated on sensitive nerves. She’d fallen in love with him before she knew
what the word meant. She trailed behind him as a child, adored him as a teen,
and followed him to war as a woman. She didn’t make a secret of her feelings,
unlike him. He’d never said he loved her, not once in all these years.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be
this way. You know how bad I want you.” The warmth in the dark blue eyes
left no doubt of the way he wanted her. “I like having you in that big,
brass bed or anywhere else I can take you.”
She glared up at him, hurt,
humiliated, and angry. “Want in one hand, Marine and crap in the other. See
which fills up first.”
“Wow, can you talk dirty, Empress.
Is this when I make you beg for me or later?”
The nickname offended her.
She wasn’t as capricious or arbitrary as he made her sound. She pushed him
away, jumped off the fence. “You son-of-a—!” She stopped, aware of how he felt
about name-calling. She wouldn’t go that far. “You’re damned well right about
one thing. I’m too good for you. I’ll find a real man, one not afraid to stick
and stay with me when I get to Nashville.”
“Don’t go there.” His
fingers gripped her shoulders. “You belong to me. You have since the day you
were born.”
“Kiss my butt.” She wrenched
free, stalked across the yard. She’d collect her purse and jacket, then hitch a
ride into Baker City. From there, she could find a friend to take her back to
their place in Lake Maynard.
The scent of flowers drifted
from the overgrown rose garden in front of the old Victorian house where her
grandparents had lived. The four-hundred-plus acre farm waited for her uncle to
return. Fenian McElroy had disappeared on a covert Army mission back in 2011
with Durango’s brother, Waco.
There was little hope her
uncle would come home to claim his inheritance. After all, the U.S. didn’t even
admit they had troops in South America fighting the drug lords. The American
government knew how to fight secret wars. The blood of its soldiers was
currency to politicians and too much attention was taken up with the war in the
Middle East. Durango might not have learned the lesson, but she had long before
her uncle and his younger brother died.
“Nothing frightens you.” He
caught up with her. He didn’t sound quite so amused when he trailed one finger
down her neck to the gold chain she always wore along with the special
four-leaf clover he’d given her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday. “I won’t
let you leave me.”
She glared at him. “In the
past, you were everything to me. I have dreams and I’m going to follow them.”
“You want me.” He nipped her
ear, kissed the spot below it. “You’re too damned proud to admit it when you’re
in one of your snot-slinging, foot-stomping hissy fits. You figure if you don’t
let me make love to you, I’ll kowtow to your demands.”
“I’m not that
manipulative or spiteful. Even if I were, you’d deserve it. You walked into the
house leaking blood like a saturated surgical sponge and terrified me.”
“You didn’t show it. You
fixed me up.” He pressed another kiss to her neck. “You’re one in a million and
way too good for me.”
“At least we agree on
something, jarhead.” She stepped away from him, headed toward the blanket she’d
spread on the grass. “Let’s go home. Your idea of a picnic on the old McElroy
homestead was only another try to get me in the sack.”
“We haven’t eaten yet and I
still want to take some pictures of you with my birthday camera.” He followed
her.
“I’m not in the mood,” she
repeated, her back to him. “I’d have more luck talking to a rock. No wonder
your mother claims, ‘bigger is dumber’ and acts like you’re a monster because
you’re not a scawny, little runt. For once, she’s right.”
“Funny. You never say that
in bed. You always beg for more.”
A blush scorched her cheeks.
“Bragger!”
She whirled to confront him.
He was right behind her. Surprised, she fell back a step, the blanket beneath
her shoe. “I won’t sleep with you until you’re home for good.”
He grinned down at her.
“Want to bet?” He hooked a hand around her neck. “I haven’t given you a
birthday present yet.”
“My birthday isn’t until
next week. You’d better be here and packing to go with me to Nashville.” When
he didn’t answer, she stiffened. “I said, no.”
“I heard you.” He brushed
her lips with his. “I fully intend to get started on your present today.”
“Oh, really? What do you
plan to give me?”
“What do you think?” He
lowered his head. “The same thing I’ve given you for the past eight years,
multiple orgasms. I’m going for a new record, twenty-nine of them, one for each
year.”
She shuddered, trying to
ignore the heat in her face. “You can’t. It’s physically impossible. I’ll die
of exhaustion.”
“You haven’t yet.” He
laughed. “Let’s check it out.”
She hesitated. She wanted
him as badly as he wanted her. She’d ached for his touch, longed to go to him,
and forced herself to maintain a safe distance. Would surrender work any
better? Could she entice him to stay home with her?
It was worth a try. At five
foot eight, it wasn’t much of a stretch to tiptoe up and tease his mouth with
hers. “Want me?”
“You know it.” He pulled her
tight against him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Not enough to come out to
the living room and charm me.”
“It wouldn’t have worked
until you stopped ranting and raving.”
“I don’t have tantrums
anymore.”
“When I got home, you tipped
a table full of food on me. Laredo hit the door a-running.”
“That was the plan,” she
said in her sweetest voice. “I couldn’t let your youngest brother see you were
a bloody mess. If I had, we wouldn’t be arguing. You’d be in a hospital, then
jail. You got off easy.”
“Says the woman into
payback. Vengeance is always yours, baby. You do enjoy trying to make me
suffer.”
“I’m not that petty.”
“You’ll go to hell for
lying.” Durango kissed her brows. “You threw your engagement ring at me for a week
straight. I kept putting it back on your finger.”
She tipped back her head and
met his gaze. “I didn’t ask for it. I offered to bring you a jar of petroleum
jelly so you could shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Another laugh before he
dropped a kiss on her nose. “You make me glad to be alive, except when all you
give me to eat is potato soup.”
“It was good for you.”
“I hate the stuff. Then you
made peanut butter cookies for dessert.” He stroked her hair. “How many times
have I told you that peanut butter makes me gag? And you refused to make me
chocolate chip ones, no matter how many times I asked.”
“Making you miserable was
the least I could do after you scared the hell out of me.”
“You went for two and a half
weeks without speaking to me, even when you were changing my bandages. Must
have been a new record.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “You’re an
ornery woman, Heather Marie McElroy, my ornery woman.”
“As if you’d want any other
kind.” She closed her eyes and leaned against him, relishing the hard, solid
feel of his body. Did he realize how close he’d come to dying? Tears burned her
eyes. She blinked them away, determined not to reveal the weakness. He couldn’t
handle it when she cried. She’d learned that eons ago.“You’re mine.”
“I always have been.” His
mouth claimed hers. “Ever since we were kids.”
When the kiss ended, he
lifted his lips a few inches from hers. Before he spoke, she slowly slid his
shirt down the muscled arms, letting it fall onto the grass. “I’ve given you
all of me.” Deliberately, she reminded him of the 4-H
pledge they’d exchanged as teen sweethearts. “Head, heart, health, and hands. I
want all of you.”
“You have me. We’ll get
married as soon as I bring Waco home.”
“He’s gone by now. We have
to let him and Fenn go.”
“I don’t believe that. I’ll
keep looking for the two of them.”
“All right, lover. You think
what you need to think.” She stopped him with a kiss, then said, “I wish there
were another O’Leary who talks to the dead in Baker City, someone who could
find Waco and Fenn for you, but there isn’t, and your brother means more to you
than—” She paused. “No, I won’t say that. I won’t spoil this moment, but I’ll
agree we’ll both do what we have to do.”
*
* * *
As
soon as he parked the rental car in the driveway, he knew she was gone. October
leaves covered the unmown lawn and weeds shared space with the bright marigolds
in the flowerbeds. Rolled-up newspapers littered the front porch. Envelopes
overflowed from the small mailbox beside the screen door. Proof of her
departure from his life as if he hadn’t gotten a clue when she didn’t come to
the airport to meet him.
“I
don’t need this crap, Heather Marie.”
He
left the bouquet of golden roses, the box of her favorite chocolate-covered
macadamia nuts, and the small sack from the jewelry store on the passenger
seat. He’d expected her to be angry. She always got mad when he left on a trip
to South America, but this tantrum was ridiculous for a twenty-nine-year-old
woman, especially storming off to Nashville, Tennessee in a huff. Then again,
maybe she really hadn’t gone.
He
reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flipped to the last
picture he’d taken of her. Vibrant red hair cascaded to her narrow waist. High
cheekbones, a pointed chin, and huge green eyes. The
regal glare made him think of an absolute ruler, but there was nothing tame
about his Heather. She was wild, feral, and downright vicious at times. My
kind of woman, long on guts, short on self-preservation, my pretty tyrant.
She’d charge hell with a bucket of water.
It
was the low, rich taunting voice he always missed most. She might tear strips
off him with her words, but that voice was saturated with sex. He wanted to
fall into the photo, grab her and hold her forever. He’d just hold those tall
curves against him. She was the perfect size for him, heart-high. In the picture,
she leaned against the corral rail, the summer wind ruffling her hair.
He'd
told her to say, ‘cheese’. She hadn’t, of course. She’d never followed
his directions in her entire life. She’d looked him straight in the face,
smiled dangerously, and purred, “But, babe. I don’t want cheese. I want you.”
His
hands shook when he snapped the photo. It was pure luck, not skill it’d come
out this good. He’d assumed their wild lovemaking meant everything was great
between them. She’d stopped complaining and calling the hunt for his brother
the definition of insanity. She’d even driven him to the airport, kissed him
goodbye like they were going to jump back into the sack, not like they’d just
left it.
How
was he supposed to know she really intended to leave him?
He
flung open the car door, paced to the trunk, and removed his duffel bag, a
leftover from his stint in the Marines. He slung the carrying strap over his
shoulder, slammed the trunk, and went around the house to the back door. The
kitchen was dark. Daylight filtered through the door behind him. Some came
through the window above the farmhouse sink.
What
happened to the curtains? He flipped the light switch by the door. Nothing. Had
the bulb in the overhead fixture burned out? He turned, saw the note taped neatly
to the outside of the breaker box.
Durango, call to have the utilities turned on when you want them. That
includes the landline. You never phone me, so I won’t worry.
“Damn
it!” He tore down the note, wadded it into a ball, and looked for the wastebasket.
Gone.
He walked further into the room. The table and chairs were missing too. So were
all the appliances, the electric range, fridge, washer, dryer, and dishwasher.
No microwave. He grimaced, grateful they’d totally furnished the rental. At
least, he wouldn’t have to listen to the landlord pitching a major fit.
The
cupboards were bare. Another note lay where the dishes used to be. I gave
away the groceries. You had more important things to do than be here for me or
the meals I cooked for you.
“You
little witch.” He shook his head. He was cracking up. Imagine arguing with a
piece of paper.
He
stormed through the house, searching the rest of the rooms. She’d stripped the
place. The furniture was gone, everything they’d bought together. A manila
envelope was taped to the bedroom door, obviously where she’d left her
engagement ring. Another note fluttered beside it.
I got rid of the bed. I didn’t want you to share it with someone else.
Your clothes are at the cleaners down the street. You can pay them to do
laundry for you. I’m outta here. I’m going to Tennessee. So long, lover!
He
dropped the duffel on the floor. He ripped the paper off the door, took down
the envelope, tore open one end, and shook out the emerald engagement ring,
shoving it into his shirt pocket. He’d save the note inside for later, make her
read it to him.
“I’ll
find you, Heather Marie McElroy. When I do, I’m taking you to bed. Then we’re
getting married. Enough is damn well enough! I’m done putting up with your
tantrums.”
He
collected the other snotty notes on his way to the back door. He slammed it
behind him, pausing to lock the vacant house. A quick stop at the detached
garage revealed it was empty. “Where the hell is my truck?”
She’d
better not have sold the classic ’57 Chevy four-by-four. If she had, there’d be
another nastygram, but he didn’t see one. Okay, so he’d track her down.
After all this time, I know where she likes to party, even if she calls it
‘singing for her supper,’ and it won’t be the first time I’ve dragged her out
of a bar.
Three
taverns later, he’d heard the same story from all the bartenders. She hadn’t
been around since September. Did her folks know her address in Nashville? If
they did, would they tell him when he called or would they chew him out for
standing in the way of her dreams again? He eyed the CD the last bar manager
gave him, then slid it into the player.
The
twang of guitars, beat of drums, and finally, organ music slid into a melody.
It was an old Dottie West song. Lesson in Leavin’ was one of
Heather’s favorites. Why hadn’t he realized she was giving him a warning when
she sang it before he left two months ago on a vain hunt for his brother?
Okay,
so he hadn’t found him this time, Durango thought, but he’d keep looking.
Heather’s husky, sexy voice sent chills down his spine. The words echoed
through him as a wronged woman sought vengeance for heartache.
*
* * *
Liberty Valley, Washington ~ May 5th, 2015
He’d
spent the day on the construction site, too busy working on a new strip mall to
check messages. Finally, back in his office, he crossed to the desk, picked up
the landline, and called the automatic answering service.
Her
mocking voice filled his ears. “Durango, sorry I missed you. Happy birthday,
lover.”
He
froze, pressed the button to repeat the message. It’s not my birthday. She
knows better than anyone that’s in March. What the hell is going on? What game
is she playing now?
Josie Malone lives and works at her family business, a riding stable in Washington State. Teaching kids to ride and know about horses, she finds in many cases, she's taught three generations of families. Her life experiences span adventures from dealing cards in a casino, attending graduate school to get her Masters in Teaching degree, being a substitute teacher, and serving in the Army Reserve - all leading to her second career as a published author. Visit her at her website, www.josiemalone.com to learn about her books.
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