Read Phoenix Online

Authors: Cecilia London

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Political, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Romance, #Sagas

Phoenix (2 page)

BOOK: Phoenix
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Chapter Two

 

Captain Schroeder looked like he’d swallowed something distasteful. Maybe Jack had to do more than just give him an afternoon off. He’d force the kid to take a vacation but there weren’t many opportunities for soldiers to relax. Once you signed up, you got your pay and your food and your occasional days off, but there weren’t any jaunts to the beach or day trips to Los Angeles. Schroeder did best when he was buried in work so Jack delegated everything he could to the man.

With such a capable assistant, Jack could spend his days brooding in his office pretending that he knew what he was doing. No one had caught on yet, and no one had pushed him. But now he had something to look forward to. Something to focus on. Someone to help him.

He wanted to run back into the examining room but he promised Natalie he wouldn’t. So he’d have to distract himself until he was allowed back inside.

The four men who’d arrived with Caroline didn’t look like much. Jack wondered how they’d all gotten there in one piece. It was hard to cross the border into California; he’d had to plan for weeks and use every sneaky tactic available to swing down from Vancouver into the northern part of the state. That part of his life was such a blur. He didn’t like thinking about that journey. Especially since he’d made it alone.

Jack approached the blond man and extended his hand. “Mr. Morton?”

“Gabe,” he said. “If that’s okay, sir. I’m not sure anyone else goes by their given name except for me.” He pointed toward his companions. “That’s Gig, Jonesie, and Crunch.”

They appeared polite enough, but Jack wasn’t about to cuddle up to these men just yet. Not when he wasn’t sure of their motives. He definitely preferred last names for the time being, but it didn’t hurt to put his new arrivals at ease. “That’s fine.”

Morton gestured toward the examining room. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Jack hoped so. “The doctors are taking a look at her now. In the meantime, I need you to answer some questions.”

“I’ll do what I can but you don’t want to know how we got her out of that place.”

The guy was quick on the uptake but Jack wasn’t about to let the topic die. “Were any laws broken?”

“Yes.”

“Laws that might actually serve a legitimate purpose?”

“Yes.”

Well, didn’t that sound completely fucked up. But his wife was alive. If they’d killed a thousand people to get her back to him, he didn’t care. “You’re right,” Jack said. “I don’t want to know.” He turned toward the other men. “I appreciate what you did for Caroline. It will not be forgotten. Has Captain Schroeder had a chance to answer any questions you might have?”

Schroeder stepped forward. “They need quarters, sir. Should I set that up?”

Jack hated logistics. “Put them up in one of the larger vacant apartments. We’ll figure out permanent assignments by tomorrow morning.”

“Can we get our stuff back? Our knapsacks?” Jones asked.

The other men glared at him again. Normally Jack would find such an attitude annoying, but he kind of liked this guy. He raised an eyebrow. “They haven’t been returned to you?”

“No, sir,” Gigowski said. “If it’s possible, I’d like our weapons back. They were from my personal collection.”

“Those will go into the rebellion’s collective supply,” Jack said. “I’m sorry about that, but it’s policy. If you complete training and one of your weapons is still available, you can claim it as your own.”

Gigowski didn’t look too happy about that, but nodded his head. “Understood.”

Rodriguez nudged Jones in the arm. “You okay with that, man? I know how attached you were to that pretty little Smith and Wesson.”

“Fuck you, Crunch,” Jones said, before glancing over at Jack again. “Are we allowed to curse, sir?”

Caroline’s travel companions had equal amounts of moxie and mirth. And those nicknames Morton had mentioned – Jonesie. Crunch. Gig. Had they given one to her too? Jack smiled. “Yes, Mr. Jones. We have rules but have yet to prohibit profanity. I assume most of the troops curse me on a daily basis.”

“I may abuse that policy a lot.” Jones threw Jack a grin but it faded when he saw Buchanan walking toward them. He’d clearly made the connection between the man with the facial splint and the unconscious woman in the room across the hall. He took a step toward Buchanan, who looked a little scared. Perhaps he’d made the connection too.

“Hey, motherfucker,” Jones said. “You think it’s cool to hit women?”

“Cool it, Jonesie,” Morton muttered.

“Excuse me?” Buchanan asked, holding his jaw.

Jones moved closer. “I said, you think it makes you a big man to lay hands on a lady?”

Buchanan glanced over at Jack. “Who is this guy?”

Jones lunged at him. “You’re about to find out.”

Morton yanked him back as he tried to move toward Buchanan again. “Stop it, man,” he whispered. “Don’t get kicked out before you even get started. She’s gonna be fine.”

Jack put a hand on Jones’ shoulder, resisting the urge to tell him to take his best shot. “Mr. Jones, calm down.”

“He coulda killed her,” Jones said quietly. “Maybe he oughta know what it feels like to be hit in the head.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows,” Jack said. “Caroline did break his jaw.”

Jones grinned at Buchanan. “You hear that? An unarmed woman less than half your size beat the shit out of you.”

Jack cleared his throat, trying to remain expressionless. “How about you go get something to eat with your friends while you wait for Caroline to wake up?”

Jones turned to Jack, still smiling. “You trying to diffuse the situation, sir?”

This guy would be a handful, but Jack suspected it would be worth it. “Mr. Jones, there is no doubt in my mind that you are well-equipped to engage in what would undoubtedly be a highly inappropriate physical exchange of ideas with Corporal Buchanan. However, that’s something we don’t allow here. I suspect you’re hungry anyway.” He turned to Buchanan. “You’re dismissed,” he said, his voice turning cold. “Captain Schroeder will be in touch with you regarding reassignment.”

“Sir-”

Fuck
. Jack told himself to take Buchanan aside but the increasingly crowded hallway was the only thing preventing him from taking his own shot at the man. “You are no longer allowed to participate in intelligence gathering and interviewing. Is that understood? Take a few days to rest up and see what the doctors do about your injuries.”

Buchanan straightened up. “Yes, sir.” He walked away without saying another word.

“Pussy,” Jones said under his breath.

Jack tried not to laugh. “Even if we’re fast and loose with language, please try to keep it under control.”

Jones turned to him. “Might I ask you a hypothetical question, Commander?”

“You may.”

“If I had hypothetically slugged that guy, what would have happened to me?”

Jack could afford to be a little snarky. “I’m not entirely sure that hypothetically, anyone would have been around to witness it. I wouldn’t have seen anything.” He lowered his voice. “I appreciate your attempt to defend my – to protect your friends. But try to maintain an even emotional keel.”

Jones grinned. “Yes, sir.”

Jack motioned over to his assistant. “Captain Schroeder, will you show these gentlemen how to get to the cafeteria? They’re probably in need of a nice meal.”

Schroeder frowned at them but his tone was conciliatory. “Certainly, sir.”

Jack turned to Morton. “I’m sure Caroline will be awake by the time you get back.”

The man didn’t say a word before marching down the hall behind Schroeder. Jack settled into one of the chairs outside the examining room. It didn’t take long before Natalie reappeared.

“They went to get something to eat,” he said, before she could ask.

“Oh,” she said. “Have you talked to them?”

“Yes.”

“And they seem trustworthy?”

All four men seemed fiercely protective of his wife. Jack was duty bound to respect that until presented with information to the contrary. “If Caroline trusts them, I do.”

“That’s good enough, I guess.”

“How is she?”

“We’re going to take her for a CT scan, move her to a recovery room upstairs. She’ll have to stay overnight, I think.”

He told himself not to be disappointed, but he’d hoped Caroline would be coming home with him. Where she belonged. Where he needed her to be. “She’s not awake?”

“Be patient, Jack. It’ll be a while.” Natalie took the seat next to him. “May I ask you a few questions about how this all happened?”

Jack didn’t want to think about it. “Sure.”

“How did she sustain those injuries? You gave me the short version and I heard Buchanan’s side of the story but I want to know what you saw.”

He shifted in his chair. It was hard, plastic, and cold. Utilitarian. But hell, this wasn’t exactly a fancy hospital. “She and her companions arrived around noon. They were separated for interrogation. Caroline gave the soldiers at the main entrance an old passcode so she was questioned alone. Her friends identified her as the leader of their group.”

“And?”

“I was behind the glass, watching. Like I always do,” Jack explained.

“I know protocol, sir. Why Buchanan?”

He was asking himself the same question. “I thought he deserved a shot.”

Natalie shook her head but stayed mute.

Jack hated when people used silence instead of words. Especially when he knew exactly what they wanted to express. “Say what you need to say, Dr. Haddad.”

“He doesn’t have the greatest track record,” she observed. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”

“I suppose not.”

“You were watching the entire thing,” Natalie said.

He initially thought she’d been passing judgment on Buchanan but she was searching for something deeper. “What are you getting at?”

“What was she like during the observation period?”

All their new arrivals were allowed to sweat a little before questioning. A cruel little trick that was quite effective at weeding out the fakers. At first Caroline had exuded confidence, maybe a little impatience. As time passed she’d become skittish, like a kitten separated from its mother. Helpless and frightened. But he wasn’t going to tell Natalie that. Not when it bothered him so much in hindsight.

“A little nervous,” he said.

“How did things go downhill?”

“She lied about her name.”

“Of course she did,” Natalie said. “All of us have at some point.”

“Buchanan didn’t believe her.”

“So what, he beat the shit out of her?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Natalie, will you let me explain?”

She stifled a grin. “You politicians are so damned impatient. Fine. Go ahead.”

“Caroline was evasive,” he said. “I could tell she wasn’t telling the truth. I don’t think she believed herself, either. When she finally told him who she was, he didn’t believe her. She tried to leave the room and he pulled a gun on her.”

His last statement caught her off guard. “He what?”

Had he failed to mention that earlier? “You heard me.”

“Why the hell was he armed to begin with? That’s a serious breach of protocol.”

“I know.” They had those rules for a reason, both to protect themselves and to keep from letting their baser emotions get the best of them. Any weapon could be turned against its owner in an instant, particularly when desperate people were involved.

“What happened when he pulled the gun?” Natalie asked.

“He said something to her and she punched him.”

“Do you know what he said?”

Buchanan had called her ‘sweetheart.’ Hell, it had gotten a rise out of Jack, too. Hardly meant as a term of endearment. Thinking about it again made his blood boil. “It was a snide remark.”

“She punched an armed man because he was rude to her?”

It had been more than that. “It was strange,” he said. “She got this odd look on her face and swung a haymaker at his jaw.”

“Does your wife have a temper?” Natalie asked.

Caroline had thrown objects in anger. Sometimes at him. She had spectacular aim but knew he could duck. Jack smiled, perhaps a little too proudly. “Yes.”

Natalie tried not to laugh. “One more thing you two have in common, I guess. Has she ever used violence before?”

“I’ve never seen her fight like that. I suspect she’s had some training.”

“So this behavior is a bit unusual for her.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m trying to put all the pieces together before she wakes up. What happened after she punched him?”

“She wrestled the gun away from him and, uh, fired at the glass we were sitting behind.”

“She did what?”

Just saying it out loud reminded him of how shocking Caroline’s behavior had been. It strained the bounds of credulity. “Good thing that mirror is bulletproof. Sent us scrambling, though.”

BOOK: Phoenix
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ads

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