A Soldier's Devotion
Stallings’ eyes bugged. He backed away from the bear. “Me? Uh, no, ma’am.” He grabbed another officer coming out of a back room. “But Sheriff Steele here will.”
The stubby sheriff paused. Fluorescent bulbs buzzing above reflected light off his shiny bald head as it bobbled up and down to study her and Stallings. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve stumbled into a speed trap?” Steele adjusted his belt which secured a sidearm peeking under his paunch.
She extended the bear toward the sheriff. “I’m in a hurry. And you’re armed. So why don’t you take this in to Mr. Reardon for me?” She smiled her brightest smile and hoped it carried enough charm to convince him to do it.
The sheriff tilted back his hat. “And who might you be, little lady? A love interest?”
Val coughed out a laugh.
Stallings, on his way out, paused and snorted as he left the facility through the lobby, which boasted a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
“N-no. Certainly not a love interest. I—” Val cleared her throat of the sudden glob of fear.
The sheriff raised snowy brows and bounced on the balls of his feet in an impatient gesture. He made an exaggerated motion of eyeing his watch. “I’m not sure I’ve got the time unless you’ve got more info. I’m friends with the stubborn cuss’s old man. Jest dropped by to check on him. Who are you?”
“I’m the woman who hit him. And destroyed his bike.”
A blank look. Then the sheriff looked her up and down—and laughed. His cheeks and chin jiggled as he laughed some more. Then he clamped a grandfatherly palm on her shoulder. “Tell you what, miss. I promise to take him this little bear if you’ll promise not to be a stranger. Come back and visit Vince when he ain’t so rip-roarin’ mad.”
“Um…err…okay. Why?”
A jovial twinkle lit his aged eyes. “Because once he cools down enough and gets past being so blasted mad that he can’t see straight, I think he’ll see that you’re a mite too perty to stay mad at.” He winked, tipped his hat and reached for the bear. “Any message you want me to give?”
“Just what’s on the card. That I’m very sorry. And fully willing to pay for all the damages. My contact information is included.”
He nodded and headed toward a partially closed room that voices wafted from. She turned, pausing as a group of massive men strode out of the room to stand in the hall near where the sheriff stepped in to talk to Vince. No yelling or things crashing. Maybe Vince was taking the bear, and her apology, okay.
“Can I help you, miss?” One of the daunting men approached. His name tag read “Peña.”
“I’ve been helped. Thanks.”
But the stocky Hispanic man didn’t budge.
Curious glances hurtled her way from the imposing group of muscle-bound men who undoubtedly wondered what she was doing standing there staring at the door of a room she imagined housed Vince. Still no sound coming from inside.
She wished she had assurance Vince would be okay with her coming to his work.
“Excuse me,” she said to the one whose eyes held the deepest shade of compassion and blue. His name tag read “Briggs.” He seemed much less intimidating than the rest.
“Yes?” The man stepped forward.
“I’m wondering if you can tell me how Mr. Reardon is faring.”
The other guys stood in the wide connecting hall opposite the table area and studied her. Then each other. Heavy silence fell. Stark. Foreboding. Like a cell block door slam. The hefty weight of all the eyes bearing down on her settled over her like a judge’s declaration of life without parole.
Shades of suspicion turned Briggs’s narrowing eyes into a treacherous tint of blue. “Who wants to know?”
She swallowed, feeling suddenly surrounded by dangerous men—a protective band of brothers—who had to be part of Mr. Reardon’s pararescue team. No other explanation for why they’d be so physically daunting.
She refused to wilt. Her chin lifted. So did the man’s. Which rattled her like a box of banging gavels. Never let them see you sweat. She applied the courtroom principle to her body language.
“I do.” She straightened her shoulders but softened her poker face and stuck out her hand, hoping he’d take it.
“And you are?” he asked as he shook her hand.
“Valentina Russo. My friends call me Val.”
His eyes flashed recognition. His fingers snapped in the air. A slow grin came to his face. “The woman who crashed into his bike.”
She licked parched lips. So they’d heard her name. Couldn’t be good. Especially since the emphasis landed on her crashing the bike rather than Vince. “Yes.”
“I’m Airman Briggs. But you can call me Nolan.” Thankfully, his demeanor softened.
She nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“What can we help you with?”
“I just wanted to be sure he’s okay. Understandably, the hospital wouldn’t give out information when I called last week.”
Nolan didn’t respond.
She plucked nervously at her earring. “I haven’t been able to get him off my mind.”
Nolan grinned. “The bear you sent in there? Or Vince?”
Gentle humor in his eyes broke her nervousness. She loosed a laugh, which was more relief. “Vince.”
Nolan nodded slowly and appeared to ponder her deeply. “How’d you know where to find him?”
“Apparently your PJ team holds celebrity status in these parts. I asked around town and was sent to the B and B. A lady named Sarah directed me here.”
“Did you say Sarah?” Nolan looked at the older man on their team, who set his clipboard down and came close. His face reflected acute interest in the conversation.
“Yes. She guided me here, saying I’d probably find Vince here.”
The redheaded teammate snickered. “Guided, wow. Sounds like something someone would do with an airborne missile.”
Val stared at him. “I’m sure Sarah meant no harm by guide—I mean sending me here.”
The older man grinned. “Relax, ma’am. Sarah’s my fiancée.”
Nolan smiled. “Vince is tough. He’ll be all right. No permanent injury. But I think it’d be better for you both if you didn’t come around him.”
The man whose tag identified him as Petrowski, and who’d proudly proclaimed Sarah as his fiancée, moved to stand alongside Nolan. “Least, not right now.” A slight grin smoothed rigid lines from his face.
“It’s been a week since the wreck. You think he’s still that angry?” Val asked.
“Now, now. Calm down, airman. I’m just the messenger,” came from inside the back room. Sounded like the sheriff’s voice. Only a little higher-pitched. Just then a growl gurgled from the room. The next instant the stuffed bear whizzed by her, hitting the opposite corridor wall.
Nolan grinned at her. “Apparently so. Give him another week. At least.” His face grew serious. “He really loved that bike.”
Which she’d learned from Eagle’s Nest’s mechanic was damaged beyond repair.
Nothing is beyond repair in Your eyes, God. Not things. Not people. Help me at least give him part of his bike back.
Maybe she should follow through with contacting Vince’s sister and have her try to use its salvaged parts to rebuild Vince’s bike. How wide was the rift between her and Vince? Would the sister even be willing?
If so, it would likely take most of Val’s savings to do this. Savings she’d been counting on to buy a van and rent a facility to entertain the at-risk youth she’d moved here to help. Oh well. She’d just have to be more creative in thinking up alternate fun activities.
Her insurance would probably cover most of the cost of a new bike, but it was doubtful that it would stretch to the custom rebuilding. If it did, the insurance company would want to choose the repairman rather than letting Val use Vince’s sister. If not, she’d just have to pick another place to take teens prone to trouble. Continue the work her aunt had started then grown too ill to finish.
Not to mention she had a hard phone call to make.
Her dad would blow his bad toupee when he found out she’d wrecked the car he and Mom had bought for her when she’d passed her bar exam. A ridiculously expensive car that symbolized prestige and privilege. An image she hadn’t enjoyed growing up under. He’d think she’d wrecked it on purpose. Ludicrous, but such was the way with her often eccentric and unreasonable father.
“Anything else?” Nolan’s voice clashed into her thoughts.
“Maybe. I wonder if you could tell me how to reach Vince’s sister.”
Nolan’s raised his brows. “Lady, you really do have a death wish, don’t you?”
The looks on the rest of the men’s faces said the same. The worst possible thing she could do was contact Vince’s sister.
The stern warning in Nolan’s eyes suggested doing so would be like tossing gasoline on the flame of Vince’s rage.
“But that’s the only hope of rebuilding his bike like his brother had it. The officer at the scene, Stallings, said she designed the bike Vince’s brother hand-built.”
“She did. But that was before the brother’s death and subsequent rift that ripped their family apart. Trust me. You’d be better off to walk away from this altogether.”
One flash of memory of the deep void of emptiness and pain in Vince’s darker-than-midnight eyes as he lay on the wet asphalt, and Val knew that walking away from this was exactly opposite of what God was asking her to do.
Trust Me.
Only it wasn’t Nolan but God impressing this upon her. An inner voice. Remembering the battle in Vince’s face as she’d prayed. Tiny sparks of hope in the most tortured eyes she’d ever seen.
She’d looked deeper.
And God had allowed her to see.
And Vince had been too momentarily unguarded to stop her. What she’d seen was a little boy wounded by life and growing up into a hard and cold brooding man who refused to feel or even act as though he could feel. That kind of ultra self-protective pain.
She saw it in the faces of abused and neglected children she lived her life to help. And in the dullness coating the eyes of teens nearly too late to help.
And she’d seen it in Vince’s eyes.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t walk away. Not from this.”
Chapter Four
She had some nerve.
Vince stormed from the back room. His team tensed. Petrowski stepped between him and Miss Distraction. Mass distraction rather. A weapon of mass distraction. Yeah. That’s what she was.
And he wanted no part of her.
Vince didn’t care why she’d come.
Only cared to see to it that she didn’t come back.
He let incisive anger fly from his eyes as he surged purposefully toward her.
Fear came alive in her face, making him pause momentarily. Her expression slammed memories back of seeing his sister’s face like that when their dad came crashing home in one of his drunken rages. Vince halted, unable to unleash the verbal lashing his tongue longed to give a hot moment ago.
As if sensing his sudden calm, his team inched away, except for Joel and Aaron, who no doubt hung out either from curiosity or at the risk of seeing if they’d have to step in and referee.
Vince unclenched his fists. “Why are you here?”
“I—I came to say I’m sorry.”
“You already did. About seven hundred times. Doesn’t change anything.”
“What can I say to that?” She raised her arms loosely and let them fall hard at her side. “I just hoped it would make a difference this time.”
Pure frustration. Not put on.
Honest. Tough. Vulnerable.
How she was all three at the same time, he had no idea. He just knew she was.
He notched his chin up. “What do you want from me?” He’d said it so calmly, the surprise in her eyes mirrored how he felt inside.
Thick black lashes on gorgeous gray eyes fluttered. “I—I don’t—I’m not sure.” Backing toward the door, she eyed the clock behind him. “I’m sorry that I came. I didn’t mean to make matters worse.” She turned and fled as fast as her high heels would take her.
She looked back only once. Regret sliced through him. Her trembling hands told him he’d scared and humiliated her.
Same way his old man used to do to him and his siblings. And he got the idea Miss Distraction was like his sister in the way of tears. Rarely did Victoria Reardon cry.
Vic. How he missed her.
Double remorse slugged his gut.
Once for his sister, Victoria.
Once for Valentina Russo.
A protectiveness normally reserved for his sister rose up in Vince for Miss Distraction. He started after her.
Petrowski’s strong arm swung out, blocking him. “No. She’s upset. Let me go.”
Knowing Aaron operated more diplomatically, and not wanting to scare Miss Distraction further, Vince planted his eager feet to the floor and nodded.
On Aaron’s way to the door, he paused to peer at Vince. “You didn’t hear Stallings explain her reason for the accident, did you?”
“No.” In fact, he hadn’t wanted to hear. So he’d poked his iPod nubs in his ears and jammed up the volume on his rip-your-ears-off hard rock.
But the terse look in Petrowski’s eyes told him he needed to know.
Vince shifted. “What?”
“Her aunt toppled down stairs on a medical scooter. Miss Russo received word of the accident seconds before entering that intersection.”
Compassion trickled past the hard earth of Vince’s anger. “She all right? The old lady, I mean?”
“Not sure yet. Stallings said she’s in surgery again today. So the young woman’s understandably under intense pressure right now. Last I heard the aunt was swinging between grave and critical condition.”
Petrowski didn’t need to say the rest. That Vince needed to go easy on her.
Sorrow settled in. “Aaron, I didn’t know, didn’t try to. I’ll make it right.”
Halfway out the door, Petrowski nodded. “I know you will. Mad as you are, your true colors can always be counted on to come through.”
That statement stunned Vince. Mostly because he didn’t see himself that way and didn’t feel he deserved the grace and understanding riding Petrowski’s words as he headed to the lot.
In fact, he’d been a complete jerk to Miss Distraction. And for the first time since the wreck, he felt a wiggle of wrong about it.
Vince moved to watch Petrowski leaving out the massive wall of windows that offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the sky he loved to languish in.
An inviting brilliant blue today, it canopied the vast acreage of Refuge Drop Zone’s grounds. It housed miles of public and private areas in which they did things as a team for hours each day. Things ranging from rigorous exercise to practicing nighttime military HALO jumps and daytime training to all-out fun with leisure landings.
Adjacent to that closed-off area resided the acreage where they conducted classes meant to train novice skydiving patrons proper body mechanics before they learned to solo or tandem skydive.
The space between Miss Distraction and Petrowski closed rapidly as Aaron sprinted to catch the woman, still rushing across the large lot to her car. She was liable to break her ankle wearing those spiked heels in the gravel part beyond the enormous asphalt section.
It had cost Joel a huge chunk of his savings putting that asphalt in when he’d bought the place after their team stationed in Refuge. Now the team was raising and saving money to help Joel pave the rest.
Why had Miss Distraction parked so far from the building? For exercise maybe? He could tell she did that regularly, too, because a woman didn’t get those shapely legs and toned arms solely by being a desk jockey. Not that he’d noticed. Really.
Miss Distraction indeed.
His nickname for her held sudden duplicity. Sure his sarcastic mind had made it up initially because her distraction was the cause of his disaster. But, watching her move in ways he couldn’t help but appreciate as a man…Miss Distraction took on a whole new meaning.
Vince grew aware of the increasing weight of his teammates’ gazes. Choosing to ignore them rather than contend verbally or mentally with what their curious and knowing expressions insinuated, he went to the back room and grabbed his helmet and the keys to his old bike.
“Where you going, dude?” Chance stepped inside the doorway.
“To check on the lady’s aunt. I feel bad now for what I said.”
“Rain’s in the forecast. I’d feel better if you didn’t ride your old bike. Le’me drive you.”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Nah. Be glad to. Haven’t had lunch, anyway. We’ll grab some grub after we go see about the young lady.”
“Correction. Her aunt.”
Chance jangled his car keys and grinned. “Right.”
Vince cradled his helmet in the crook of his elbow and hawkeyed Chance. “Don’t make more out of this than it is, Garrison.”
Chance’s dimples deepened but he pressed the palms of his hands gently in the air. “’Course not.”
“I mean it.”
Chance laughed as they stepped into the sunshine. He eyed Vince and coughed out a couple more laughs.
Irritation dogged Vince. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?”
“She’s got your mind all twisted up.”
“Does not.”
Chance paused, snorting. He dipped his head toward Vince’s arm. “Then why do you still have the helmet? My driving’s not that bad.”
Vince pressed his lips together to form a worthy excuse or a solvent retort, but nothing came to mind.
Instead, he felt his own sudden grin give way to an out-loud laugh. His earlobes heated.
Chance stopped. “Wow. Dude. This is a first.”
Vince scowled. “What?”
Chance leaned in with focus. “I think you’re actually blushing. Wow. The abominable Vince has feelings.”
“So what? Everyone gets embarrassed sometimes.”
“Really? You’ve been embarrassed?”
He laughed. “Once.”
“When?”
When was the last time he’d been embarrassed? “Eighth grade when snooty girls in class teased me for wearing the same sets of outdated clothes every week, that’s when.”
“Ah, dude. Kids can be so mean.”
“Yeah, well, when there was not enough money for food, new clothes weren’t even on the radar.” Not on Vince’s lawn-mowing and paper-route salaries.
One of the snooty schoolgirls’ dads owned a law firm in town, too. Figured.
Sympathy showed in Chance’s normally serene eyes. “Sorry, man. I had a good upbringing and loving parents. I can’t imagine how hard your childhood was.”
The pity in his friend and fellow teammate’s voice caused Vince’s stomach to ball up into a cringe. “Look, whatever. I’m just…distracted these days.” Vince set his helmet on the floorboard of Chance’s red Cherokee.
Same shade as Miss Distraction’s glimmery lipstick today.
Not that he’d noticed.
Chance tossed his head back and laughed. Good to hear it. Honestly, the guy was so quiet normally it took a vocal excavator to get anything out of his mouth.
The youngest PJ on the team at twenty-five, Chance was painfully shy, but for some reason, not so much around Vince. The two of them plus Brockton, who was a year younger than Vince’s twenty-seven, were the only three remaining single guys on the team, so they tended to band together and hang out more these days.
“You know you really shouldn’t have thrown that cute little bear.”
“Cute?” Vince pulled a face. “You know I’m not into cutesy things.”
“Not even the woman?” Chance navigated the Jeep from the DZ lot.
“Not even.” Besides, not that he’d admit it to Garrison yet, but the woman was beyond the realm of cute. Make-a-man-gawk gorgeous was more like it. Intelligent eyes. Soothing voice. Authoritative demeanor.
Transparent faith, something he secretly respected in anyone, even if he didn’t share it. Bold, heartfelt prayers. She’d talked to God like Joel and Aaron and the rest of the Christians on his team did right before missions. Like God was their friend or something.
Yeah. Miss Distraction was all that. And probably more.
And suddenly, Vince wanted to know the “more.”
But, remembering the hurt and humiliation in her vulnerable eyes back at the DZ, he’d likely bombed the foundation of any amicable bridge with her.
And if she were anything like his sister, she’d never cross it on her own. He’d have to make the first move.
Never ever had he such a strong desire to risk those shaky first steps.
“Never ever,” Val seethed on the way to her car. Never again would she subject herself to this. She blinked back angry tears.
She’d only seen the man down. The lethal creature storming from the back room looked nothing like the vulnerable one on the road that day in the rain. He’d been intimidating enough that she’d taken two steps back for every step he’d taken toward her.
The man who’d said he was Sarah’s fiancé had shaken his head at Vince. Subtle, yet Vince stopped in his tracks. But the look in his eyes said he was none too happy about her being there.
Never would she look back.
Trust Me.
“How? When he can’t even stand to look at me?” She flung her rental-car door open and threw herself in the seat. Her hand twisted the key when a knock caused her heart to jump. She removed her hand from her throat and rolled down the window.
Sarah’s husband-to-be leaned in. “Miss, I apologize on behalf of Vince.”
“He has every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have come.”
He knelt. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Why did the compassion in his voice cause hers to clog? “Give Sarah my regards. And tell her thank you.”
Aaron eyed the DZ then Val. “You could tell her yourself.”
Val eyed her clock. Two minutes more and she had to leave. She shut off the ignition. “What are you proposing?”
“Sarah’s also new to town. She could use a friend.”
“How do you know I’m new?”
“West Coast accent for one thing. For another, your license plates are out of state. Saw your car when I took Vince to check on his bike.”
She nodded. “How’d he swallow seeing it?”
Aaron grinned. “How do you think?”
“Probably like a big bowl of razor blades.”
He laughed and handed her a business card with caricatures on it. “Give Sarah a call. And give Vince time. His bark is worse than his bite. Most days, anyway.”
She laughed. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He smiled. “There are barbecues every weekend at my place or Joel’s. Sarah’d love to bring a friend. All the other guys’ wives and girlfriends have a good friend. Though they include her, Sarah is shy and feels like a fifth wheel. That she spoke to you at all proves she felt a connection with you.”
“Interesting. I felt that with her, too.”
“I’ll let her know you’ll be calling.”
She shielded her eyes from the southern Illinois sun and met his gaze. “Why do I get the feeling you want me to try to get through to Vince?”
A confident gleam entered his eyes. “Probably for the same reason that I get the feeling you can.”
His words paused her heart and soul.
Get through to him she wanted to. But only God could move the mountain of this man’s anger toward her and all that she stood for. Vince’s face flashed in her mind.
No matter how hard, she would obey.
“I’ll give Sarah a call.”
“And I’ll give her a heads-up that you’ll be coming to the barbecue.”
“Hey, now. All I said was that I’d call.”
“Prayerfully consider it. It’ll mean a lot to her to have another woman to pal around with.”
“How do you know I pray?”
He snorted. “Trust me, Vince let us know.”
“Speaking of Vince, will you be warning him that I’m coming? You know, in case he wants to stay home or fling himself in front of a moving planet or otherwise orbit himself out of his misery.”
Aaron chuckled. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He knuckled her door frame. “Besides, he drowns his misery in Michelob.”
“Ah. The old alcohol vice.”
“Yeah, he pretty much never leaves home without it. He always drinks at the barbecues, which means he’s normally more subdued, which could be good for you. And as long as he doesn’t try to drive himself home, we don’t give him too much grief. We know God’ll change him when Vince finally gives himself over to Him.”