27. Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Tallahassee
I haven’t slept well since Darren, and the rest of the team have been gone. I’ve been on pins and needles, scared and worried about them.
Not being able to talk to Darren and hear his voice, never knowing where he is or what’s happening to him—so much of his job is unknown—and it’s anxiety-inducing. I want to believe that someday I’ll find a way to become accustomed the secretive parts of his job, but I’m not sure it’s possible.
I’m still sore and bruised from the attack, but I’m on the mend. It’s my day off, and I’m catching up on laundry and other chores when my phone starts to ring.
“Tallahassee, hey,” Ricochet says when I answer. “We need to talk. Can you meet us at Ralph’s house?”
Not only am I confused and concerned Darren isn’t the one calling, but Ricochet telling me we need to talk at Ralph’s house in that worried tone has me immediately on edge.
“Did something happen to Darren?” I ask, panic surging, alarm bells clanging.
“It’s better if we talk in person. I’ll text you the address.”
I know asking more questions won’t get me anywhere. Whatever’s happened, Ricochet isn’t going to tell me over the phone. “I’m on my way.”
Ignoring the honks and dirty looks from other drivers, I weave through traffic, speeding across town to Ralph’s while one horrible scenario after another runs through my head. Was Darren injured? Killed?
I’m impatiently drumming my fingers against the steering wheel when my phone pings with an incoming text. At the next red light, I check it, hoping it’s Darren telling me there’s been some kind of terrible mistake and he’s fine. But it’s not Darren. It’s Vincent telling me we need to talk.
I let out a groan. I have more important things on my mind than Vincent’s stupid games. I can’t deal with him right now, but I still shoot off a quick text to mollify him.
This isn’t a good time.
Vincent: I don’t give a shit about your schedule. Make time.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. “You’re going to have to wait, asshole.”
My heart is racing at an unhealthy pace by the time I arrive and pound on Ralph’s door. “What’s going on?” I ask the moment Hawk swings it open.
“We need to tell you something. Come inside.”
“What is it? Tell me what’s going on,” I demand, following him into the living room where Ralph and the rest the team are waiting.
The only one missing is Darren.
This can’t be good.
Panic has already set in, but it worsens when I enter the room and all eyes, including the dog’s, swing my way. I’ve had too much time to think on my way here, and I’m frantic.
“Where’s Darren? Is he hurt?”
“He’s not injured,” Pony says in a calm, controlled voice. “Maybe you should sit down.”
Relief twists in my chest hearing Darren isn’t hurt, but it’s obvious from the somber atmosphere something bad has happened. “I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the hell is going on.”
It’s Doc who delivers the bad news. “Last night when we returned from our op, Warlock was taken into custody and is being confined.”
“Into custody. You mean like arrested?”
“The military version, yes,” Nitro confirms.
“For what?”
A pained expression tightens Hawk’s face. “Assault.”
I stare at him. Nothing about that statement adds up. Darren is the most upstanding, trustworthy man I’ve ever known. He’s a protector selflessly dedicated to team and country. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt someone. At least not without a damn good reason.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what they’re telling me. “Assault? Who did he assault? This isn’t because of me, is it?”
They all look at Ralph, whose expression is sympathetic. “It’s because he beat up the men who attacked you.”
I start to pace, needing to expel the chaotic energy churning inside me. I start rapid firing questions. “What? No. That’s not right. Why? He didn’t do anything wrong. He did that to save me. Is he okay? I want to see him. Where is he?” I demand. “Can we bail him out?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Pony tells me, ignoring my obvious agitation.
“For now, he’s being detained and held in the brig,” Doc explains. “But once his JAG is assigned, there’s a good chance he’ll be released.”
“Then what?”
Nitro rubs the nape of his neck, releasing an exasperated sigh. “There’s going to be a preliminary hearing, and they’ll decide if there’s enough evidence to formally charge him and put him on trial.”
“What the fuck.” My legs give out, and I collapse into a chair, my head in my hands. “This is insane. He didn’t do anything wrong. We have to do something. Call someone. What about your commander? He can help, can’t he?”
“We can’t discuss it with him,” Pony informs me. “We’re already breaking the rules by being here together and talking about Warlock’s case.”
I glance up, shaking my head in confusion.
“We’ve been given a no-contact order,” Hawk explains. “We have to stay away from Warlock and each other, and we’re not allowed to talk about his case until it’s resolved.”
“What about me? When can I talk to him?”
Before Ralph can respond, my phone alerts me to another text. It’s Vincent again. He’s getting impatient. Standing, I disregard it without reading it, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
I can’t take it anymore. Vincent’s driving me insane, and it’s killing me that there’s nothing I can do for Darren. The room suddenly feels too small, too confining, like all the oxygen is being sucked out.
I heave out a frustrated groan. “I have to go. I need to be alone so I can think.”
They volley worried looks back and forth between each other.
Pony’s voice is gentle but with a hint of command. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I wave off his concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I’m pretty sure that’s a lie.
I leave Ralph’s scared, angry, and confused.
While I’m stopped at a red light, my phone goes off again. This time, Vincent sent me a song, Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds.
I can picture the smarmy grin he’s sporting, thinking about how clever he is.
Subtle, Vincent. I wish I could forget about you, you friggin’ creep.
He follows it up by going full Fatal Attraction.
Vincent: Unless you want to find out how serious I am, it’s not a good idea to ignore me, Tallahassee.
What do you want, Vincent?
Vincent: Temper, temper.
Tell me what the fuck you want!
Vincent: I want to watch you suffer.
He’s insane. He’s a certifiable crazy person. Why’s he doing this? What did I ever do to him to make him so obsessed with me?
Overwhelmed by this day, I let out a scream of frustration. “Fuck!”