Chapter 4
Garrison
“Remember what the good doctor said,” Sawyer says. “Absolutely no heavy lifting.” He sets my bag down on the floor just inside my apartment as both Ryker and Weston—the other two members of my team—lurk just behind me as if I’ll take a fatal fall at any moment.
Granted, considering my luck lately, that doesn’t seem like too far of a reach.
“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll be fine.” My mood has been sour since I woke up this morning, though I’m attributing that to the lack of sleep as the nurses came in to check my vitals every hour or so. To say I’m relieved to be home—again—is an understatement.
At least, the place smells better. Seems the pepper spray faded away while I was gone.
Likely because I’d completely forgotten to close the door.
I’ll have to thank Anastasia for locking up for me when I see her next.
She’d dropped my bag off during the only small window of actual sleep I’d gotten last night.
“Elijah will be here tomorrow morning to do a security install,” Ryker tells me.
Elijah Breeth, a former Army Ranger who now works in private security, designed a system that his company, Knight Security, uses exclusively.
Even though they’re based out of Maine instead of South Carolina, he’ll be able to monitor all our security systems remotely and alert us if there’s an issue.
Me nearly bleeding to death on my floor prompted us to beef up security all the way around. Though, I seriously doubt we’ll face another issue like what landed me in the hospital the first time. Especially since we no longer do shadow work for the government.
Still, if it weren’t for Katelyn, I wouldn’t have survived, and that’s enough to have us installing systems everywhere that matters. On our homes and the homes of Zane’s mother, Linda, and his sister, Anastasia.
Katelyn. She was another reason I couldn’t sleep last night. Anytime I tried to close my eyes, I’d see her haunted eyes in my mind.
There’s pain there. And a lot of it.
Who put it there?
How can I help her move past it?
Easy there, Holt. She’s not a client. Even as I try to correct myself, though, the desire to help her lingers. But Katelyn is not a troubled teenager weighted down by a changing world. She’s a woman. A mother. Two things I know nothing about.
“Apartment’s clear,” Weston announces as he comes down my hall. I glance over toward him, and my gaze lands on the area where I nearly bled to death—only to find the blood stain nearly gone.
It’s then I also realize that the glass I broke in the kitchen is also gone.
“Who cleaned up?” I question.
“Anastasia said that your pretty neighbor was here when she came to get your stuff.” Sawyer wiggles his eyebrows. “Okay, I added the pretty part.”
“Katelyn?” I question.
Sawyer nods.
“Wow. She didn’t need to do that.” I study the stain. What was once an obvious reminder of the night that nearly claimed my life is now little more than a subtle shadow. How long had it taken for her to clean that up?
“She probably felt guilty for pepper-spraying you,” Weston comments as he crosses his arms and leans back against the counter.
His sharp tone holds no hint of a joke. Which is not surprising.
Of all of us, Weston struggles the most with forgiving.
Something that likely has a lot to do with his dad abandoning them after Weston’s sister had been murdered.
It tore their family apart and pulled both Weston and his mother away from their faith in God.
She has since found her way back, but Weston hasn’t occupied a pew since the day they buried his sister.
“I think it’s great you have a neighbor so willing to rush into danger for you. Plus, she’s gorgeous. My neighbor is seventy-two and yells at me for breathing too loud when I unlock my door,” Sawyer comments dryly.
Ryker snorts.
“Seriously, though. And I do not breathe loud. Being silent was in my job description.”
A sort of grieving silence falls on the room at his words.
Transitioning out of the military is rough on everyone, but we weren’t even granted that opportunity.
After being blackmailed into working for a branch of the government that doesn’t exist on paper, the rug was ripped out from under us when we were handed our service record DD214’s and a “Thank you for your service,” before being shown the door.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re all beyond grateful to be granted the opportunity at normal lives, but the transition has been hard. We went from having a clear purpose to planning futures we weren’t sure we’d have.
Of all of us, Zane is handling it the best. Though I have a feeling that has a lot to do with his new wife and their sailing trip around the world.
“You want to head over to the diner for dinner?” Weston questions. “I can bring you back here before I head to the ranch.”
“Nah. I think I want to just stay in.”
“You’ve got it. Anastasia went grocery shopping this morning,” he says. “Your fridge should be stocked with some quick meals. Call if you need anything, and don’t leave the door unlocked. Can’t have you getting pepper sprayed again. Doc says your lung can’t take much more.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I retort as I slowly lower myself down onto the couch. It may be two weeks old, but the knife wound in my side still feels fresh. Though that could have a whole lot to do with the fact that I pulled it so badly yesterday. It’s a miracle I didn’t tear anything open.
The moment I’m resting back against the couch, my muscles go completely limp. Exhaustion tugs at my senses, and I yawn.
“We’ll get out of your hair. Are you sure you’re okay if I head home and grab some things? I won’t be gone long.”
I nod. “I’ll be fine. SEAL of honor,” I add, holding up my hand.
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “You’ll never make that a saying.”
“One day, all the kids will be saying it.”
Ryker chuckles as he heads for the door. “I’m off tonight, so if you need something, let me know.”
“Thanks, Tank. I will.”
He nods, then slips out into the hall. Weston and Sawyer both offer me waves before following him out. Before I even have the chance to pull myself up to lock it, I can hear the faint scrape of a key being slid into the lock moments before it turns on this side.
Alone at last, secured in my apartment, I take a deep breath and let the silence sink into my mind.
It’s the first time I’ve been alone in weeks.
Sure, there were those couple of blissful hours before I ended up back in the hospital, but even then, I was haunted by the blood staining the floor.
By the image of the man I killed, lying dead on the carpet just beyond it.
Now, thanks to Katelyn, even that’s gone. I have to find a way to make it up to her. Maybe flowers? Or are those too romantic? When I’m on my feet, I could make her a lasagna and take it over for her and her son.
Or is that too suggestive, too?
With another yawn, I close my eyes and settle further, sinking into the couch as best I can. All while images of Katelyn play through my mind. Someday, I’ll find a way to thank her for cleaning up my apartment.
One way or another.
Subtle scraping pulls me out of sleep. Before I’m even fully awake, the adrenaline is already surging through my system.
I reach beneath the cushion of my couch for the knife I keep there, then pull it out and get to my feet.
As I do, I move toward the door, keeping enough distance that I can pull back if it’s Anastasia, Sawyer, or someone else coming to check in on me, but close enough that I can use the element of surprise if it’s an unwanted guest.
Though the latter is highly unlikely since they caught the guys who tried to kill me the first time.
Still, the fight or flight in me is heavily weighted toward fight, so I wait.
Lord, please grant me calm.
The door swings open, and through the dim light from the hallway just outside the door, I can make out a soft, feminine figure.
“Hello?” she calls out.
I flip the lamp beside me, bathing the room in light as I hide the knife behind my back. “Hey.” The adrenaline already waning, my movements are slow. Jarred.
Katelyn blinks rapidly, her hazel eyes adjusting to the flood of light.
Seconds later, her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of crimson.
“I am so sorry. I knocked, and no one answered. Your girlfriend left me with a key, so I wanted to come and leave you some of these since I figured you probably wouldn’t be making meals anytime soon.
” She holds up a few aluminum trays stacked on top of each other.
“No need to apologize, come on in.” As soon as she walks farther inside, I tuck the knife behind my television and follow her into the kitchen, one arm banded around my waist to apply slight pressure to my still-healing wound.
The clock says I’ve only been asleep about forty-five minutes, which means Sawyer is due here any minute.
“I really am so sorry. I keep barging in here like I own the place, and that’s not me.
I wasn’t sure you’d be home yet, and I wanted to make sure that you came home to food.
Though I imagine Anastasia is taking care of you.
Wow, I feel like a fool.” She laughs nervously and sets the trays down on my counter.
The color of her cheeks deepens, and I’m momentarily struck mute at the sight of her.
My chest tightens, heart pounding.
What is happening to me?
And then her earlier reference to a girlfriend hits me. “Anastasia? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Katelyn’s cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson. “I just assumed—wow, I am making the worst third impression ever.” She holds out her hand. “Katelyn Ellis. I know we’ve already met, but maybe a do-over will help us both sleep better at night. Or, at least, it’ll help me.”