4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
BERNIE
W ith a plunk, the last scoop of kitty litter settled into the box. Rising from a crouch, I tossed the scoop into the bag and closed the closet door where the extra litter would be stored. With the white dryer thumping quietly, I padded softly across the tile out of the washroom and nearly ran smack into my mom.
With her hands on her hips, she pursed her lips with raised brows.
“For the third time, I’m sorry I didn’t ask first,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
She sighed heavily as a smile crept across her face. A light chuckle bounced from her lips.
“Are you—Are you laughing at me?” I gasped.
“I just—” She patted her chest a couple of times, glancing away from me. “You do impulsive things all the time, but this was not one I expected. A hairless cat of all things? You? A cat guy?”
“You know what,” I started and then closed my mouth and eyes. “I’m gonna go make sure she hasn’t absolutely destroyed the curtains in my room and then I’ll cook dinner.”
“Alrighty, Bernie. But, if I find cat shit somewhere around this house that’s not in that litter box, so help me,” my mom stated through another chuckle.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve already shown Muffin where the box is, so I think we’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.”
“Me fucking too,” I grumbled, opening my eyes as my mom walked away. I studied her fading figure down the hall as she plodded across the gray carpet and then disappeared down the stairs to the left. My eyes trickled across the wall, locking onto the family portraits she’d hung before Raiden’s bedroom door.
The last family photo that included my dad before he passed from cancer ten years ago hung in the middle of more recent ones, including my military portrait. Even a few with my team I’d sent home littered the wall. But it was the ones of Raiden that I stared at.
He was five when Dad died. My little brother had practically grown up without a father and had me instead. A piss-poor example of a put-together, mature adult. The only good thing I’d ever done was join the military because it practically made it so I couldn’t fuck shit up anymore. How he’d turned out to be as mature as he was beat me.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I turned right and headed down the short hall into my own bedroom. The door closed softly behind me as my eyes drifted across the room. From the white closet doors on the right, across the beige black-out curtains pushed to the side of the window across from me, to the bed on my left where Muffin lay curled up in the middle of the navy bedspread. Resting in the middle of a sunspot, her bare chest rose and fell as she slept.
Padding across the carpet, I crawled onto the bed next to her and laid down. She lifted her head and watched as I snuggled up against her, pulling her onto my chest and running my hand steadily down her back. It had taken some getting used to, but the feel of her skin no longer shocked me as I stared out the window with my back to the dresser behind me.
“Please don’t piss in my room, all right?” I mumbled, watching Raiden throw a ball for Matrix in the backyard. Mature trees with dark green leaves rose to the sky, shading the freshly mowed grass from the frying reach of the sun’s rays.
“And don’t shit anywhere in the house that’s not the litter box, or my mom will be absolutely pissed. I’ll get you a cat tower scratch thing tomorrow,” I continued as Muffin rested her face against my chest right beneath my chin.
I closed my eyes, plunking my head back against the bed as a chuckle rumbled in my belly. “Fuck, Kat really got under my skin, didn’t she? But you like her.”
Muffin chattered quietly for a moment but didn’t move.
Warmth slithered beneath my skin as Kat’s bright blue eyes danced through my mind. Curves that I had to admit had me drooling to myself followed suit as she shoved her hand on her hip. Fiery thing she was. Super short, but fiery all the same. Damn… Katalina was an interesting name .
My phone buzzed in my pocket, alerting me to a message. Prying my eyes open with a groan as that rather intriguing woman’s face fluttered away like a butterfly in the breeze, I dug my hand into my pocket.
An unknown number waited on the screen. Quickly unlocking the phone, I tapped on the notification.
Hi, Bottle Cap. This is Kat from the shelter. I’m sorry to be bothering you, but I grabbed your number from the adoption form. I think you accidentally dropped a card from your wallet. Your military ID.
Shooting upright as I cradled Muffin to me, I ripped my wallet out of my back pocket and flipped open the leather. Scanning through the contents, I plopped onto my back again with a heavy sigh and quickly raised the phone. Muffin meowed and settled onto my belly. She swatted at me once and then stretched herself out across my torso and chest.
Shit. I’m sorry. Can I swing by the shelter and get it from you tomorrow? I kinda need that…
I quickly typed in response.
Bubbles appeared as she wrote something, and then her reply popped onto my phone.
I won’t be in tomorrow. I only volunteer there once or twice a week. I’ll send you my address and you can come get it in the morning.
Locking my phone, I stared at the ceiling, following the lines of the crackled design. What an idiot I was. Dropping my CAC of all things. If we were called in on an emergency or some shit, there was no way I was getting on base, and to replace that thing was way too much of a hassle .
My phone buzzed again, and I peeled it off my chest.
Why didn’t you say something about being in the Navy when I said the not so awesome things I said back at the shelter?
Tapping the screen, the cursor blinked as my thumbs hovered over the letters. Muffin’s steady breathing mixed with the faint sounds of Matrix barking and Raiden shouting, becoming muffled in my head.
Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how to answer her question. What was the point of saying anything? I didn’t want anyone’s empty sympathy. I hated when people gave the “you’re a hero” speech to me. I wasn’t a fucking hero.
I killed people.
With pleasure, too. I thrived in the violence and chaos. Controlled that shit. Enjoyed the destruction as things exploded around me. All of us on the team found some peace in all of the bloodshed and havoc we delivered. How the fuck was I supposed to explain all of the thoughts in my head that should’ve landed me in a psych ward?
Another message vibrated on my phone.
I didn’t mean to pry.
Sighing, I finally typed a response.
All good. Wasn’t relevant. Besides, whatever I did clearly pissed you the fuck off and I didn’t want to say something to make things worse.
Bubbles appeared a moment later, and then the familiar whoosh of a new message broke the silence.
In case you want to know what it was, you flicked a bottle cap off of a beer and it whacked me in my forehead. Then you proceeded to drunkenly not really apologize.
I laughed out loud as a hazy memory of Scottie holding her fingers up as goalposts flashed through my mind.
Oh shit. I swear I wasn’t aiming at you.
Sure you weren’t. Just text me when you get to my house and I’ll meet you with your CAC.
Thx.
A moment later, her address popped up on my phone. I locked it and tossed it to the side, resuming my rhythmic petting of Muffin.
With a smile, I leaned my head back, rather surprised that there was a modicum of excitement rolling through me. The idea of seeing her just one more time intrigued me. And her nickname for me finally made sense, though I knew that I was going to have to spend quite a bit of time convincing her that I really hadn’t meant to flick the damn thing at her.
Suddenly, a yowl snapped my attention to Muffin as she widened her eyes and swatted at my hand. I furrowed my brows and reached for another pet when she swatted me again. Sharp needles pierced my skin, and a sting ripped through the back of my hand. Muffin’s little claws retracted away as quickly as I jerked my hand toward my chest.
“Ow. The fuck was that?” I asked, staring at the cat. She stretched her legs out, then with a yawn rose off my stomach and jumped down.
I watched her strut across my bed and then launch herself with grace to the floor .
“Well, alrighty then. I guess I’ll go make that dinner,” I grumbled and pushed myself upright.
The winding road took me further away from town. Away from people and deeper into a dense forest of rising aspens and pines. Such a beautiful drive, with exquisite scenery as my trip took me closer and closer to Kat’s house.
Or to a place where she was waiting to kill me, because, if I was being honest, I was zero for two when it came to impressions with this chick. Besides, who lived all the way out in the boonies like this other than Ford and his family who liked their fucking swamp loneliness in Louisiana?
Shaking my head, I rested an elbow on the windowsill and slid my palm against the wheel, guiding the vehicle around another corner. Involuntarily, my eyes widened as the trees all but disappeared and, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but fields to my left with a speckling of a few buildings scattered throughout the rolling pastures. Down the lone dirt road were rows of trucks and cars, parked without much rhyme or reason, and dust billowing from whatever chaos ensued across one pasture.
I eased the 4Runner to the side of the road and double-checked the address. This was it. A fucking ranch. She lived on a cattle ranch. I’d never even touched a damn cow in my entire life and this woman lived here.
Rolling my window down, I let the sounds dance into the cab. As clear as if I were watching it on my own television, the bellowing of cattle, barking of dogs, and shouts of human voices mixed together as seamlessly as the constant white noise of gunfire overseas.
There was nothing else out here but this ranch and a life I knew nothing of. No one would notice if I simply just…kept driving? Ran out of gas somewhere and grabbed that little thing from my glove box that had been collecting dust since Dad put it there…
Taking a deep breath of shockingly fresh air, I shook out that fleeting thought and pressed the gas. The 4Runner bumped over gravel and rocks, crunching down the dirt road, edging closer and closer toward the chaos that seemed so much more comforting than the usual silence that had filled my ears for the past few weeks.
The randomly spaced vehicles fell into more of a manageable layout as I pulled in between two well-used farm trucks parked off to the side and threw mine into park.
As I turned off the ignition and reached into the center console, a tap sounded on the frame of my vehicle. “You’re late,” a gruff voice snarled, snapping my attention away from my phone. Out of instinct, I sat upright and stared forward.
“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again,” I stated as clearly and crisply as possible. Wait, what the fuck was I doing? This wasn’t a sergeant chewing me out back at boot camp…
A calloused hand slammed against my shoulder. “Well, get the hell out of your vehicle and over to the paddock. We’ve got sorting to get started. And bring your damn hat.”
Swiveling to look out my window, my mouth flew open to respond, but the man was already walking away. He had broad shoulders, stood maybe five foot five inches tall, and the spurs on his worn boots tinked with every step. His fingers swept through his thinning gray hair, and I saw sweat coating the collar of his pearl snap shirt beneath, before he replaced the cowboy hat on his head.
A real fucking cowboy.
“Next time, I’ll be the one hiring day hands ’cause this is a mess,” he grumbled under his breath, strutting away.
The hell just happened?
“Hurry up, boy!” the man shouted. “I ain’t got all fucking day!”
And I flew out of my vehicle while snatching the ball cap off my dash.