#Paranormal #Military #Romance #ParanormalRomance #KindredSpirits #GhostOfThePast
Two soldiers devastated by heartache, decide to rescue themselves with a fake marriage...
Kindred Spirits
Baker City Hearts & Haunts Book 5
by Josie Malone
Genre: Paranormal Ghost Military Romance
Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Smashwords * Bookbub * Goodreads
Kindred Spirits – Excerpt
Prologue
May 2011
“Sir! We need to talk!”
Recognizing the low, feminine voice as that of the new noncom in charge of the warehouse he operated, Captain Rex Sinclair glanced over his shoulder at the woman in camouflage fatigues standing behind him. “No good conversation ever started with those words, Sergeant Ramsey.” He gestured to the seat next to him. “Pull up a stool before you tell me what an asshat I am, and I’ll buy you a drink. I’m having boilermakers. Want one?”
“No thanks. At least we agree on something, sir. Your behavior is execrable, sir and unbefitting an Army officer.” She sat down, next to him, carefully placing her regulation handbag on the bar. She narrowed the electric-blue eyes that haunted him twenty-four, seven and glared at him. “You bailed on me, sir. You know there’s an I.G. inspection at 0800 hours tomorrow. You should have stuck around, sir, and helped prep for it, not hightailed it before closing formation.”
“I’m getting a divorce and the call from the lawyer today pissed me off. My going to be ex-wife wants beaucoup bucks. Beyond child support for the kids, she isn’t getting a dime.”
“Everything pisses you off, sir. Ranting, raging and yelling obscenities at the top of your lungs is inappropriate, sir, when we have work to do.”
Rex winced, reaching for the shot glass of whisky in front of him. Sergeant First Class Deborah Ramsey was tired. He saw the exhaustion in her pale, lovely features. She’d undoubtedly been working ever since he stormed out of the warehouse. In the past month while assigned to his section, she always arrived before he did and stayed long after he left. She hadn’t gone to the barracks to change out of her camouflage fatigues before tracking him down at this ramshackle tavern. “You’re not letting this go, are you, Ramsey? Are you sure about that boilermaker? You probably need it.”
“No, thanks. I’m not drinking whisky and following it with a beer chaser.” She folded her arms and frowned even more fiercely. “It’s ‘sergeant’s business’ to train junior officers. You know that’s second lieutenants fresh out of college. If you need somebody to wipe your tail or your nose, it’s not me. Man up, sir!”
He tossed down the whisky and took a hasty swallow of the waiting beer, struggling to collect his thoughts. He’d been drinking since afternoon and now it was well into the night. “Cut me some slack, Sarge. My wife, soon to be ex-wife introduced me to what she said was my six-month-old daughter when I got off the plane three months ago. Made a big splash on national TV.”
“You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who cares, sir. I don’t. Not about your piddly personal problems – .”
“I’d been gone for a year and a half. When I had a week’s R & R, she wouldn’t meet me in New York and now, I know why. She told me she couldn’t get anyone to stay with the other four kids, that the housekeeper was away on vacation. My wife lied to me. She was pregnant with someone else’s kid.”
“Again, I don’t care.” Sergeant Ramsey held up her hand. “You have choices, sir. Divorce her. Reconcile with her. But stop throwing tantrums. You’re grown. Put on your big boy panties and act like a commissioned officer up for promotion.”
“And it’s an ‘embrace the suck’ moment, isn’t it?” He finished his beer and signaled the bartender for a refill. “You deserve a better C.O., Ramsey. If you want a transfer, I’ll sign the request.”
“We can’t both run away, sir. You requested the job here in Texas instead of returning to California after your last combat tour – .”
“Everybody knows my business there. I wanted a fresh start.”
“Then act like it.” Sergeant Ramsey nodded at the bartender when she approached, carrying another two glasses, his next boilermaker. “What kind of white wine do you have?”
“Put it on my tab,” Rex said. “If the sergeant’s gonna keep ripping me a new one, she needs dinner to go with it. I know she skipped lunch and I’m pretty sure she hopped supper too. Better give us a menu.”
“It’s almost 2300 hours,” Sergeant Ramsey said. “Isn’t the kitchen closed?”
“Not yet. You have ten minutes to select a burger and fries.” The sturdy, gray-haired older woman handed over a grease-stained sheet of paper. “Choose fast, honey.” She glanced at Rex. “Might want to sop up some of that booze with food, Captain.”
“Good idea.” Rex waited until they had fresh drinks before he gestured to a table on the other side of the room. “Let’s move over there to eat. You can bring me up to speed on what still needs to be done for the inspection.”
“It’s hopeless, sir.” She followed him across the tavern, bypassing the men at the pool table. “I could only clean up so much of the mess in the month I’ve been at the warehouse. Your previous N.C.O.I.C. retired. Scuttlebutt is he didn’t want to put up with you a moment longer.”
Rex pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down. “Unfortunately, there’s more truth than fiction to that story, Ramsey. We’re both fairly new at this base. How do we salvage the situation?”
“I don’t know.” She heaved a sigh. “If it’s like other posts where I’ve served in the last ten years, the senior Army officers won’t care about the crap-fest in our section. They’ll want optimum results whether it’s reasonable or not. So, I’ll get the proverbial ass-chewing tomorrow. It’s annoying, but it can’t be helped.”
“You’ve done your best to rectify a bad situation.” Rex gestured to her wine. “Drink up. I’ve got your six, Sarge. I know I haven’t been doing my share, but it isn’t reasonable to expect us to clean up something this broken in such a short amount of time.”
“It’s not the troops’ fault. They’ve done their best with the minimal, erratic leadership they’ve been receiving.”
“I know that as well as you do. You need more support from the non-commissioned side of the house, so let’s see what we can do to get it.”
She hesitated. “I’m not here for much longer, sir. This is a transition assignment. I’ll be shipping out to Afghanistan before the end of the year. I don’t have my orders yet, but they’ll be coming through soon enough.”
“You’ll be missed.” He paused, waiting for their meals to be placed in front of them. “Let’s eat and then we’ll work out a plan.”
“That’s do-able, sir.”
***
More than once during the next half-hour, Debbie Ramsey reminded herself to focus on the cheeseburger and fries in front of her, rather than staring at the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man in combat fatigues sitting across from her. It’s not my fault he’s a hunk and a half. She couldn’t help admiring his rough-hewn features, the strong cheekbones and, from an earlier combat tour, the broken nose. His previous noncom had told her Sinclair was injured from an I.E.D, but luckily all his troops survived the assault. If they hadn’t, she’d have heard about it. Army bases ran on gossip too.
She hadn’t expected him to admit he'd been irresponsible at the warehouse or to buy her dinner. Granted, he was in a ‘sticky wicket’ as her best friend would have said. Debbie knew that long before she’d heard him shouting at a lawyer through a closed office door today. The conversation ended with Sinclair roaring he wasn’t paying his ex-wife the alimony she wanted. He’d demanded DNA tests on all five of the kids she’d foisted off on him, especially the daughter born when he was away for more than eighteen months in Afghanistan, the one obviously conceived when he was out of CONUS and his wife’s mind and life.
Debbie swirled a French fry in a pool of ketchup. It wasn’t as if Sinclair was lying about his failed marriage. She’d heard yet another sad story from a different noncom. The captain’s wife was a serial cheater who’d slept around on more than one base and when her affairs resulted in pregnancies, Sinclair ended up with his name on the birth certificates. Still, he needed to do his job just like she did. If he yelled, ‘bullshit’ one more time when everything went from sugar to shit in less than a heartbeat, she’d tell him again to freaking ‘man up’.
After he slammed down the phone this afternoon, he’d stormed into the warehouse and raged at a civilian driver delivering a load who’d unfortunately parked in the wrong space. The poor woman burst into tears which meant it took even longer to get the semi-truck moved to where it should have been in the first place. Debbie had stepped in and smoothed over the situation.
It hadn’t gained her any points with the man in charge. Everyone around heard another stream of repeated ‘bullshits’ and ‘f-bombs’ before he swept out of the building, shouting his favorite words at full volume. She’d worked the rest of the day and most of the night, grateful not to deal with his tantrums or so-called supervision. When she couldn’t finish everything that needed to be done at the warehouse in time, she’d decided to tour the small town near the base and track him down at his favorite watering-hole.
“All right. We’ve eaten.” She sipped the remains of her favorite Zinfandel. “What’s it going to take for you to step up and do your job, sir?”
“I’ll do my best not to lose it from now on, Ramsey.” Rex lifted the glass of beer. “I’m worried. I miss my kids. I need a guaranty I won’t go back to California. It’s hard to deal with Averill cheating on me when I never chippied on her. Not in fifteen years.”
“That’s a better track record than most men have.” Debbie met his golden-brown gaze. He’d shown his vulnerability and she could do the same. “Tell you the truth, sir. I’m apprehensive about going back to the sandbox this time. I don’t have anyone in CONUS to look after my business matters.”
“No family?”
Debbie shook her head. “My grandparents have health issues, and I don’t want to burden them. They’ve been looking after my horses and I’m not sure if they’ll be able to handle them for the next year and a half.”
“Maybe.” He paused and studied her. “We could help each other out.”
“How do we do that?”
“I need a new wife when my divorce is final in September. If I’m married, I won’t do something stupid and get reeled back into more drama. And if I’m your husband, you can trust me to look after your concerns.”
“Are you serious?” She stared at him, hoping her jaw didn’t hit the table. “Sir, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You may want a wife on paper, but I can’t see how a ‘paper’ husband could help me.” She paused, recalling her turbulent life before she enlisted. Then again, it could resolve a few issues I don’t like to remember.
“Well, at least you didn’t refuse.” He chuckled, finished his beer, and then stood. “Come on, Ramsey. Let’s call it a night. I have a few months before my divorce is final and you leave the States. I’ll convince you it’s a life-saver for both of us.”
“Not happening, sir.” Still, the idea made her smile.
***
October 2011
They’d deliberately honored the thirty-day waiting period required by Texas after his divorce was final before they married. Rather than let anyone know their plans, she’d used two weeks’ leave to visit her grandparents before she shipped out. She’d told them about Rex Sinclair, so they’d know how to contact him if she didn’t make it home. Then, she met him in Las Vegas.
She’d always wanted an “Elvis” wedding and luckily, Rex was willing to go along with the plan without bitching about the kitschy ceremony or the minister happily singing Elvis songs. Of course, she laughed her backside off when Rex demanded equal time and the opportunity to reserve a honeymoon suite at the luxury Bellagio Hotel and Casino. Turnabout was fair play as the saying went. They’d spent two days together after the ceremony enjoying gourmet meals, gambling, dancing and of course making love in their suite.
She always woke up early, a leftover habit instilled in childhood when she lived on her parents’ ranch in Montana. Debbie eased out of the king-size bed leaving him to sleep. She had to pack and be downstairs in an hour to catch the shuttle to the airport. On her way to the ensuite, the vintage sapphire and diamond claddagh wedding set on her left hand caught her eye.
He’d told her it belonged to his grandmother, and she’d made him promise to give it to his ‘real’ wife, or save it for his oldest daughter, because his granny and Averill were always at loggerheads. After a quick shower, Debbie opted for comfortable civilian clothes, jeans, a light blue sweater, and flip-flops. She braided her hair, added makeup, and returned to the bedroom.
He must have heard her soft footsteps because he opened his eyes and sat up, the blanket still covering his lower body. “You’ll be gone by the time I get back to the base, won’t you?”
Debbie nodded. “Yes, but I’ll call whenever it’s possible.”
“Likewise.”
When he held out his hand, she crossed to him. She leaned down and kissed him. “Stay safe.”
“That’s my line, Ramsey. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“You know it, Sinclair.” And she kissed him again. “I’m counting on it.”
PART ONE
Summer 2019
CHAPTER ONE
Master Sergeant Debbie Ramsey stopped halfway across the parking lot in front of the warehouse to watch the August sunlight brighten Mount Rainier’s beautiful snowcapped peak. No matter how often she’d seen it in the last ten months she’d been stationed at Fort Clark, the sight always made her feel at peace, that everything was right with her world. Yes, she knew the ancient mountain was a volcano, part of the Pacific Ring of Fire and sleeping before it erupted again. Sometimes, she felt like that herself.
She drew a deep breath of the warm afternoon air and continued to stroll toward the large building where she’d work for the next three days until her current enlistment ended. She’d taken two weeks off in April to close the deal on the riding stable she’d bought near Baker City in the Cascade foothills, then taught horse camp for two weeks in June and three more in July. She was running out of leave, but that didn’t actually matter since she wasn’t staying in the Army.
On Saturday morning, she’d be free to follow what she often thought of as an impossible dream. Now, she had to find a way to share her upcoming departure with the soldiers she supervised. They’d be fine, but what about her commanding officer? He’d certainly notice she was gone when he wanted something. He’d begun complaining about her using up her leave in what he called “dribs and drabs” rather than taking it all at once, but she told him it was easier to pick up the slack after short spurts rather than cleaning up various messes when she was gone for an extended period of time.
Smiling, she hurried up the concrete stairs near the end of the long building. Inside, she paused long enough to remove her camouflage cap. She glanced at the loading area and breathed a sigh of relief when she noted the last delivery of military supplies from the night before had already been stored. One less hassle. She headed for the hallway that led to the offices at the far end of the warehouse.
She’d barely reached the entry door when a familiar bellow assaulted her ears. Debbie grimaced. She’d only been away two hours. How did hell break loose so soon?
“Damn it, Petrie. This is bullshit. Where’s Ramsey?”
“She left for an appointment.” The other man sounded perfectly calm. “What was I supposed to do when the MP’s showed up, Major Sinclair?”
“It’s bullshit, Petrie. You’re giving me bullshit.”
Debbie pushed open the door, glimpsing the vintage sapphire and diamond claddagh ring she always wore on her left hand. She stepped into the large room that doubled as her office and that of the young company clerk who thankfully had a dentist appointment and wasn’t here to see the major make a fool of himself again. Silently, she watched the broad-shouldered man in combat fatigues rampage toward her desk, still chanting his favorite word.
A taller, slighter, younger officer with perfectly styled black hair wearing the Army service uniform, their version of a business suit, turned to face her. Lieutenant Petrie annoyed her on so many levels, not the least of which was his insistence on refusing to wear the same uniform—camo fatigues that she and everyone else did to work in the warehouses.
Petrie nodded at her. “Sergeant Ramsey, do something with him.”
“Is that an order, sir?” Debbie opted for her most professional tone but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she walked across the room, stopping where she’d be in the major’s way.
For a moment, she allowed herself to admire how he filled out his fatigues and then met his golden-brown gaze when he swung around to face her. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Ramsey, where have you been? Don’t you know better than to leave a college-trained, moron in charge of my warehouses? He can’t even keep the latrines stocked in toilet paper. It’s bull—”
“Major Sinclair!” Debbie exclaimed, keeping a straight face. “You wouldn’t swear in front of a lady?”
Red seeped into his rough-hewn features, edging the strong cheekbones and from an earlier time, the broken nose. “Sorry, Ramsey. I forgot you were female.” Rex Sinclair ran a hand through his short, salt and pepper hair. “Where were you? That damned Petrie—”
“Major!” One of these days, Sinclair might catch onto the fact that she could out-swear any and all of the soldiers working in the supply company, but luckily, he hadn’t yet.
“I’m sorry.” Rex repeated his apology and fired a glare in the direction of his so-called aide. “Lieutenant Petrie had me called off the golf course. I had to leave the general before we finished our game, and it made me irritable.”
“Yes, sir.” Debbie sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sure the first lieutenant didn’t remember how much the general depends on you, sir.”
“Watch it, Ramsey.” Humor replaced the anger. “I may have been making a fool of myself, but you don’t have enough rank to tell me so.”
“It’s never stopped me before, sir.” She met his gaze and smiled up at him.
He wasn’t a big man, only four inches taller than her five feet, six inches, but he carried himself as if he were ten feet tall and bulletproof. Just by looking she could tell he was a warrior in every sense of the word, the kind of man who picked himself up when he was knocked down, ready to fight again. At forty-two, he wasn’t a spring chicken, but then again at almost thirty-five, neither was she. No wonder she preferred experience.
She folded her arms. “I don’t know what’s going on here, sir, but I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will.” He paused. “Where were you?”
“My current enlistment ends in three days, sir. I was at the Recruiting and Retention Office for my appointment with the non-com in charge there. I asked the lieutenant to let you know if you returned before I did, but—”
Rex nodded. “Did you get everything you wanted in your re-enlistment contract? A bonus, a guarantee that you’ll stay here instead of being transferred or sent overseas, a promotion? Do you need me to make some calls to ensure you get everything you want?”
“It will be fine, sir. There’s quite a bit of paperwork to finish, so I get what I need, but we can discuss that later.” Debbie glanced at the junior officer waiting by the door to his office. “Why don’t you get back to your golf game? Like I said, I’m here now and I’ll stick around to handle any problems that arise.”
“All right.” Rex frowned before he stepped around her, his attention on the exit door. “Wait for me to make the command decisions, Ramsey. If the general could discuss this in his office, he would.”
“But the two of you can’t be overheard on the golf course.” Debbie inclined her head. “We both know how this game is played, sir.”
“I couldn’t do it without you, Ramsey.” He flashed the sudden smile that always charmed her, although he didn’t realize it. “I’ll be back for closing formation. If I’m not—”
“I’ll handle it,” Debbie repeated.
“Thanks, Ramsey. I can always count on you.” Rex started for the door.
“If I’d known how important the game was, I wouldn’t have had you paged, Major,” Lieutenant Petrie said. “I’m glad Sergeant Ramsey was able to use her womanly wiles to calm the situation.”
Before Debbie could respond, Rex did with a bark of sharp laughter. “Ramsey doesn’t have any of those, Petrie. She’s been in this man’s Army longer than you have—almost eighteen years—and has more combat experience. When she tells you to do something, I suggest you try listening to her and actually do it before you end up in a pine box.” He strode out the door, closing it behind him.
She could tell that Petrie didn’t take the major’s recommendation seriously. Little wonder, she preferred Rex Sinclair’s rugged, rawboned features to the pretty boy glaring at her who figured he was smarter than anybody else on base. The major was a grown man, and he could certainly take care of himself. He’d proven it in more than one warzone, although she’d spent the tour here watching his proverbial six.
It was a deal they’d made eight years ago, covering each other’s backs since neither of them had anyone else they could really trust. Granted, he’d have a fit and fall in it if he knew the rest of the enlisted had disrespectful nicknames for the junior officer. Debbie had corrected them enough that they carefully avoided saying, ‘petri-dish’ or ‘that petty looey,’ or ‘chicken-shit loser’ around her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help with the MP’s, sir.” She wouldn’t point out he could have contacted her on her cell phone, and she was far closer to the warehouses than the major. “What’s wrong? Did one of the delivery drivers get lost on base?”
“No. Two of Major Sinclair’s kids showed up at the front gate and the guards brought them here. Since he hadn’t left directions for their visit, I had the major paged. Come to think of it, Master Sergeant, there was nothing you could do.”
Irritation at his contempt for her position as the ranking non-commissioned officer swept through her. What had this idiot learned in ROTC at college about sergeants and their business? Obviously, nothing!
Debbie struggled to control her temper. Sometimes, I feel like Mount Rainier, and I just want to explode. Venting isn’t enough.
Three more days. I can deal with this supercilious jackass for three more days. “Thank you, sir. If you’ll do the afternoon walk-through of the warehouse now, sir, I’ll deal with this situation, sir.”
Before he responded, she entered Major Sinclair’s office, careful to close the door behind her. She studied the two girls sitting on the chairs in front of the desk, backpacks and two roller suitcases parked nearby. The closer child, a smaller, younger one had ash-blonde hair. She huddled in her seat, clutching a huge toy bear wearing camo fatigues and combat boots. The other girl was older, a teen in fashionably torn, faded jeans, a pink, ribbed, shrunken t-shirt, and flip-flops. She had shoulder-length, ebony curls.
Debbie waited until the pair had finished giving her a solid onceover.
“Hello, I’m Master Sergeant Ramsey. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but none of us expected you. Did your dad?”
“We wanted to surprise him,” the younger child admitted.
“I see.” Debbie smiled at her. “That’s why I didn’t put your visit on the schedule for the warehouse personnel. How nice for him.”
“He didn’t think so,” the older girl snapped, all teen angst. Tears sparkled in the dark brown eyes, so much like her father’s. “After the cards and gifts, he sends us, he should have known we wanted to see him regardless of what our mother says.”
“He has a lot on his mind.” Debbie crossed the room and leaned against the large wooden desk. File cabinets lined two of the walls and the blinds were closed on the windows to block the glare and heat. “The general called him this morning with a special assignment and it’s all Major Sinclair can think about right now.”
“We don’t want to bug him.” The little girl sniffled, then wiped at the tears trickling from her sky-blue eyes. “It’s just that he hasn’t called us back and we don’t want to go to boarding school. Our stepdad, Gary, was sending us next week. I don’t wanna go to New York by myself or be there all alone.”
“Oh, my Gawd,” Debbie muttered. This added proof to her private philosophy that no good deed ever went unpunished. When Major Sinclair’s divorce was finalized almost eight years before, she’d started a mission of sending the five children appropriate gifts because their father didn’t. He blamed them for their mother’s errors in judgement regardless of how it made the kids feel.
“I don’t understand,” Debbie said. “Why would your mom let your stepdad make a decision like that?”
“Because Cal left for college last week with Rory and Scott,” the blonde explained, picking at a hole in the knee of her jeans. “And Gary says he’s done putting up with us.”
“Who are they?” Debbie frowned. The names rang a bell, but she wanted to be sure. “I don’t recognize those names.”
“Our older brothers.” It was the brunette’s turn. “Dad stuck all of us with names that begin with the letter, ‘R’, and our housekeeper, Lupe says it’s too confusing, so she mostly calls us by our middle names. Except for Rory, who didn’t want to be called by his because he knew too many guys named Dave.”
“Well, that will make my life easier.” Debbie reached for the box of tissues on the desk and passed it to the younger girl. “And you are?”
“I’m Penny. Roberta Penelope.”
The older girl said, “I’m Rebecca Evangeline. Vangie.”
“Okay. First things first.” Debbie waited while Penny wiped her face. “Let’s go have lunch. Your father won’t be back for several hours, and I run the warehouses when he’s away.”
“You’re not calling Lupe or our mother or sending us back to California?” Vangie eyed her warily. “Why not?”
“It isn’t my place,” Debbie explained. “All I’m supposed to handle are the major’s professional problems, not his personal ones. Of course, if they affect the situation and the enlisted troops here, I’m afraid I do have to get involved.”
“And then what happens?” Penny blew her nose. “Do you call Lupe?”
Debbie shook her head. “No. If I’m enmeshed in your piddly little issues, I fix them in my fashion, and you won’t like it. Neither will the major. Luckily for you and your sister, I spent almost three years in a boarding school before I enlisted. I wouldn’t recommend a place like it for either of you. I learned quite a few skills I’m sure your father would prefer you didn’t know.”
“Like what?” Vangie stared at her with obvious fascination. “Will you share them over lunch?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t know you well enough to tell you how to hot-wire a car or pick locks or shoplift food, wine, and clothes without being caught on film at eleven.” Ignoring the astonished giggles behind her, Debbie led the way from the major’s inner sanctum to the outer office. She looked toward the opening door and the lieutenant before spotting the stocky, young man who followed him. “Corporal Baxter, what are you doing here?”
Lieutenant Petrie answered for the enlisted man. “I told him to come back after his dental appointment since you weren’t here to answer the phones or check in the deliveries. He needs to do his job.”
Debbie counted silently to ten while she listened to the company clerk’s garbled speech. If she couldn’t understand what he was saying, how would anyone else? “Did you bring back the slip from the clinic like I asked, Baxter?”
Baxter nodded and handed her the paper he held. “Doctor said—”
“I can read, Baxter. No need for gibberish.” She winced at the sight of his cheeks, swollen like a chipmunk’s from the extractions and the bruise on his jaw. “The dentist has assigned Corporal Baxter to quarters for the next two days, Lieutenant. I’m sending him to the barracks. Major Sinclair doesn’t want his people to work if they’re not in top shape.”
“What about the phones? Who’s going to answer them?”
“It’s why we have junior enlisted, sir.” Debbie focused on meeting Baxter’s gaze. “Stop on your way out and tell Sergeant Nelson to send someone here to answer the phones and check bills of lading. I don’t want to see you until Friday morning and only if you’re able to work. If not, call in and rest up over the weekend.”
“Thanks, Sergeant Ramsey.”
Lieutenant Petrie glowered at Debbie as the other man hurried from the office, before glancing at the teenager and tween beside her. “And what do you intend to do with Major Sinclair’s children?”
“They’ve had a long trip here, sir. I intend to feed them and then take them to their father’s house.” She looked over her shoulder at them.
Backpack on one arm, suitcase towed behind them, teddy-bear held tight, Penny pressed close to her older sister’s side and Debbie realized the girl was definitely still a child, despite her bravado. Vangie on the other hand had on enough makeup for an entire cheerleading squad, plus three pairs of earrings, a ring in her belly-button, as well as a tiny stud in her nose. “Let’s see. Penny, you’re—”
“Almost ten and Van’s fifteen. We’ll be okay by ourselves until Dad gets home, Sergeant Ramsey. We’ve stayed alone every night since our brothers went to Pullman three weeks ago. Mom and Gary went to Hawaii ages ago for an extended honeymoon and Lupe goes home at six.”
“Well, that’s over.” Debbie lifted her chin, measuring them with her gaze. “I don’t believe in leaving kids by themselves. Heaven only knows what could happen.”
“How do you expect to get them in the house, Master Sergeant? Do you have a key?”
Actually, she did, but she wasn’t telling the lieutenant that. “Don’t worry, sir. We should be able to get in with the cleaning service or I’ll talk to the neighbors. Major Sinclair arranged for one of the local boys to take care of his new puppy and the cat when he’s gone.”
That issue resolved, Debbie ushered the girls toward the door. “Thanks for being concerned, sir, but I can handle everything. It’s sergeants’ business.”
Ghost of the Past
Baker City Hearts & Haunts Book 4
Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Smashwords * Bookbub * Goodreads
BAKER CITY HEARTS & HAUNTS – BOOK FOUR
GHOST OF THE PAST
CHAPTER ONE
Baker City, Washington ~ August 2014
“I’m done coming second in your life, Durango Hawke.”
“Say again, babe. I didn’t get that.”
“You heard me.” Heather McElroy shifted on the corral rail where she’d perched so he could snap her photo with his new camera, the one she’d given him for his birthday back in March. She eyed the tawny-haired man twenty feet away. Six foot, six in his socks, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, he carried himself like the Marine he’d been for six years before he became a soldier of fortune. She’d followed him far too long.
“Let me spell it out for you, Hawke. I love you, but it’s my turn now. I’ve been offered a great job and a recording contract. I’m going to Nashville in time for the Labor Day show.”
“We’ve talked about this. It’ll have to wait. I need you here to run Hawke Construction when I’m on a mission for Nighthawke.”
“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not anymore. My life has been on hold long enough. I told you I didn’t agree with rescuing the company when your father ran it into the ground while we were in Afghanistan, but you had to save the day one more time instead of letting it go into bankruptcy.”
“The people who’ve worked there all these years didn’t deserve to lose their retirement when it went down in flames and I was the only one that could borrow money from the extended family in Texas.”
“You did what you had to do because you always have to be the hero, but that’s not my deal. I’ve always dreamed of being a country singer and now I have a shot. I’m going to Nashville in two weeks.”
She took a deep breath and watched the storm build in his navy eyes. Irritation made his rugged, handsome features harder for her to resist. Blue jeans, boots, and a faded, sleeveless chambray shirt increased his resemblance to a Madison Avenue cowboy. But there was nothing plastic about her man!
At 28, almost 29, I have three combat tours behind me. I’ve been working part-time as a horse trainer while I rebuild my career as a country singer in the local bars. We were supposed to move to Nashville as soon as he found a manager for Hawke Construction, but the damned jarhead didn’t even look for one. He’s too freaking busy hunting for his brother, the family fave. It’s not like Durango doesn’t know how much I love music. It’s my turn, damn it!
She tossed her head, long copper hair flying in the warm breeze. “I’m through nursing you after your stupid adventures, and I’m definitely done picking up the slack at Hawke Construction when you’re off in South America. You wouldn’t hire a manager, so I did.”
“Thanks for the support.” Sarcasm laced his bass rumble.
Deliberately, she concentrated on the bandaged left shoulder. Any lower and the bullet would have hit his heart. As cantankerous as he was, though, she hadn’t asked but knew he’d taken out the attacker. She wouldn’t let Durango see how he affected her when he lowered the Nikon and strode toward her.
“I mean it.” She raised her chin. “No more system support, Hawke, when you return to Colombia on one more suicide mission. I’m going to Nashville. Someone else will have to patch you up. Just remember doctors must report gunshot wounds and all cops aren’t stupid. One might not believe you were hit in a drive-by shooting at a construction site.”
“Don’t threaten me.” He stalked closer, menace in each step. “I’ve never taken your crap. It’s why we’ve stayed together this long.”
“I won’t be here when you return this time.” Her ultimatum didn’t appear to faze him. His face was expressionless, a mask that hid any and all emotion. She reached for the emerald engagement ring on her left hand, began to remove it. “I mean it. I’m done waiting on the sidelines.”
“Watch it, Heather Marie. You don’t want to piss me off.”
“I’m not scared of you.” She shrugged, but stopped toying with the ring. She’d wait. “Save the macho act for the bunch of mercenaries you run with or one of your cousins. Don’t try to placate me or act like you think I’m cute when I’m angry. I’m serious.”
She didn’t want to know how many soldiers of fortune died in the South American jungles. It was bad enough knowing he might. He was pretty annoyed with her. She could tell by the edge in his deep voice and the tight line of his strong jaw. He paced closer, boots soft on the summer grass. Did he think he could intimidate her into silence?
No way! Too bad, too sad! After all those tours as a combat nurse in Iraq and Afghanistan, does he honestly think his tantrums frighten me?
He stopped in front of her. The shirt left unbuttoned and open because of the injured shoulder revealed his neck and tanned, muscular chest. Her gaze narrowed on the bright red scar that slashed from his right shoulder in a diagonal six-inch line toward his left nipple. The injury two years ago had been her introduction to his illegal, dangerous hunt for his younger brother. Granted, Durango was morally right when he tried to save the day and his bro, but damn it, she wanted him home, safe with her in Tennessee—not getting himself killed, pursuing a dream and a man who was undoubtedly dead.
She pointed to the healed knife wound. “Remember when I stitched that with an upholstery needle and dental floss? I cleaned it with alcohol first. You yelled like a stuck pig. Without anesthesia, I know everything I did must have hurt like hell. You fainted from the pain.”
“Yeah, I passed out. Your nursing hurt worse than being stabbed. Your point?”
“You didn’t learn anything, not from the cause or the cure. You still think you can change clothes in a phone booth. I’m not Lois Lane to your Superman.” She trembled when he gripped the fence, resting large hands on either side of her. “I’m right, damn it.”
“You always tell me so.” He leaned nearer, brushed a kiss over her lips. “It’s why we fight so much. You’re all spit and vinegar. It makes me horny as hell when you start issuing edicts, Empress. You’re my pretty little tyrant.”
She tried to turn her head, but he caught her chin in calloused fingers. “Don’t. I’m not in the mood, especially when you make fun of me.”
Of course, it’s all too easy for him to get me in the mood.
“I won’t force you.” He chuckled. “I don’t have to, and we both know it. This is your pride talking. It’s why you’ve slept on the couch for the past three weeks. It’s cold comfort at night, isn’t it? I’ve missed you hogging the covers.”
“As if you really cared. If I believed that, you’ve got oceanfront property in Arizona like the song says.” She trembled when he feathered his thumb over her lips. Of course, he didn’t have a clue that she wasn’t actually sleeping in the living-room. She sat up nights, drinking vodka while she watched insipid late night movies. Enough booze and she wouldn’t dream about dying kids who should be anywhere but in the military trying to survive in a war zone.
“You’ve ignored everything I said,” Heather went on. “You won’t admit how wrong you are. And you didn’t say a word when I moved out of the bedroom until I took away the television. Then, you bitched because you missed laughing at Walker, Texas Ranger, and your war movies.”
“I’m not stupid. If I said I needed you every minute of every day, you’d figure you won. And did you think I wouldn’t find the small flat-screen on the kitchen table? You weren’t even watching it. You just stole it for spite.”
The mockery in his deep voice grated on sensitive nerves. She’d fallen in love with him before she knew what the word meant. She trailed behind him as a child, adored him as a teen, and followed him to war as a woman. She didn’t make a secret of her feelings, unlike him. He’d never said he loved her, not once in all these years.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be this way. You know how bad I want you.” The warmth in the dark blue eyes left no doubt of the way he wanted her. “I like having you in that big, brass bed or anywhere else I can take you.”
She glared up at him, hurt, humiliated, and angry. “Want in one hand, Marine and crap in the other. See which fills up first.”
“Wow, can you talk dirty, Empress. Is this when I make you beg for me or later?”
The nickname offended her. She wasn’t as capricious or arbitrary as he made her sound. She pushed him away, jumped off the fence. “You son-of-a—!” She stopped, aware of how he felt about name-calling. She wouldn’t go that far. “You’re damned well right about one thing. I’m too good for you. I’ll find a real man, one not afraid to stick and stay with me when I get to Nashville.”
“Don’t go there.” His fingers gripped her shoulders. “You belong to me. You have since the day you were born.”
“Kiss my butt.” She wrenched free, stalked across the yard. She’d collect her purse and jacket, then hitch a ride into Baker City. From there, she could find a friend to take her back to their place in Lake Maynard.
The scent of flowers drifted from the overgrown rose garden in front of the old Victorian house where her grandparents had lived. The four-hundred-plus acre farm waited for her uncle to return. Fenian McElroy had disappeared on a covert Army mission back in 2011 with Durango’s brother, Waco.
There was little hope her uncle would come home to claim his inheritance. After all, the U.S. didn’t even admit they had troops in South America fighting the drug lords. The American government knew how to fight secret wars. The blood of its soldiers was currency to politicians and too much attention was taken up with the war in the Middle East. Durango might not have learned the lesson, but she had long before her uncle and his younger brother died.
“Nothing frightens you.” He caught up with her. He didn’t sound quite so amused when he trailed one finger down her neck to the gold chain she always wore along with the special four-leaf clover he’d given her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday. “I won’t let you leave me.”
She glared at him. “In the past, you were everything to me. I have dreams and I’m going to follow them.”
“You want me.” He nipped her ear, kissed the spot below it. “You’re too damned proud to admit it when you’re in one of your snot-slinging, foot-stomping hissy fits. You figure if you don’t let me make love to you, I’ll kowtow to your demands.”
“I’m not that manipulative or spiteful. Even if I were, you’d deserve it. You walked into the house leaking blood like a saturated surgical sponge and terrified me.”
“You didn’t show it. You fixed me up.” He pressed another kiss to her neck. “You’re one in a million and way too good for me.”
“At least we agree on something, jarhead.” She stepped away from him, headed toward the blanket she’d spread on the grass. “Let’s go home. Your idea of a picnic on the old McElroy homestead was only another try to get me in the sack.”
“We haven’t eaten yet and I still want to take some pictures of you with my birthday camera.” He followed her.
“I’m not in the mood,” she repeated, her back to him. “I’d have more luck talking to a rock. No wonder your mother claims, ‘bigger is dumber’ and acts like you’re a monster because you’re not a scawny, little runt. For once, she’s right.”
“Funny. You never say that in bed. You always beg for more.”
A blush scorched her cheeks. “Bragger!”
She whirled to confront him. He was right behind her. Surprised, she fell back a step, the blanket beneath her shoe. “I won’t sleep with you until you’re home for good.”
He grinned down at her. “Want to bet?” He hooked a hand around her neck. “I haven’t given you a birthday present yet.”
“My birthday isn’t until next week. You’d better be here and packing to go with me to Nashville.” When he didn’t answer, she stiffened. “I said, no.”
“I heard you.” He brushed her lips with his. “I fully intend to get started on your present today.”
“Oh, really? What do you plan to give me?”
“What do you think?” He lowered his head. “The same thing I’ve given you for the past eight years, multiple orgasms. I’m going for a new record, twenty-nine of them, one for each year.”
She shuddered, trying to ignore the heat in her face. “You can’t. It’s physically impossible. I’ll die of exhaustion.”
“You haven’t yet.” He laughed. “Let’s check it out.”
She hesitated. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She’d ached for his touch, longed to go to him, and forced herself to maintain a safe distance. Would surrender work any better? Could she entice him to stay home with her?
It was worth a try. At five foot eight, it wasn’t much of a stretch to tiptoe up and tease his mouth with hers. “Want me?”
“You know it.” He pulled her tight against him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Not enough to come out to the living room and charm me.”
“It wouldn’t have worked until you stopped ranting and raving.”
“I don’t have tantrums anymore.”
“When I got home, you tipped a table full of food on me. Laredo hit the door a-running.”
“That was the plan,” she said in her sweetest voice. “I couldn’t let your youngest brother see you were a bloody mess. If I had, we wouldn’t be arguing. You’d be in a hospital, then jail. You got off easy.”
“Says the woman into payback. Vengeance is always yours, baby. You do enjoy trying to make me suffer.”
“I’m not that petty.”
“You’ll go to hell for lying.” Durango kissed her brows. “You threw your engagement ring at me for a week straight. I kept putting it back on your finger.”
She tipped back her head and met his gaze. “I didn’t ask for it. I offered to bring you a jar of petroleum jelly so you could shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Another laugh before he dropped a kiss on her nose. “You make me glad to be alive, except when all you give me to eat is potato soup.”
“It was good for you.”
“I hate the stuff. Then you made peanut butter cookies for dessert.” He stroked her hair. “How many times have I told you that peanut butter makes me gag? And you refused to make me chocolate chip ones, no matter how many times I asked.”
“Making you miserable was the least I could do after you scared the hell out of me.”
“You went for two and a half weeks without speaking to me, even when you were changing my bandages. Must have been a new record.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “You’re an ornery woman, Heather Marie McElroy, my ornery woman.”
“As if you’d want any other kind.” She closed her eyes and leaned against him, relishing the hard, solid feel of his body. Did he realize how close he’d come to dying? Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away, determined not to reveal the weakness. He couldn’t handle it when she cried. She’d learned that eons ago.“You’re mine.”
“I always have been.” His mouth claimed hers. “Ever since we were kids.”
When the kiss ended, he lifted his lips a few inches from hers. Before he spoke, she slowly slid his shirt down the muscled arms, letting it fall onto the grass. “I’ve given you all of me.” Deliberately, she reminded him of the 4-H pledge they’d exchanged as teen sweethearts. “Head, heart, health, and hands. I want all of you.”
“You have me. We’ll get married as soon as I bring Waco home.”
“He’s gone by now. We have to let him and Fenn go.”
“I don’t believe that. I’ll keep looking for the two of them.”
“All right, lover. You think what you need to think.” She stopped him with a kiss, then said, “I wish there were another O’Leary who talks to the dead in Baker City, someone who could find Waco and Fenn for you, but there isn’t, and your brother means more to you than—” She paused. “No, I won’t say that. I won’t spoil this moment, but I’ll agree we’ll both do what we have to do.”
* * * *
As soon as he parked the rental car in the driveway, he knew she was gone. October leaves covered the unmown lawn and weeds shared space with the bright marigolds in the flowerbeds. Rolled-up newspapers littered the front porch. Envelopes overflowed from the small mailbox beside the screen door. Proof of her departure from his life as if he hadn’t gotten a clue when she didn’t come to the airport to meet him.
“I don’t need this crap, Heather Marie.”
He left the bouquet of golden roses, the box of her favorite chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, and the small sack from the jewelry store on the passenger seat. He’d expected her to be angry. She always got mad when he left on a trip to South America, but this tantrum was ridiculous for a twenty-nine-year-old woman, especially storming off to Nashville, Tennessee in a huff. Then again, maybe she really hadn’t gone.
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flipped to the last picture he’d taken of her. Vibrant red hair cascaded to her narrow waist. High cheekbones, a pointed chin, and huge green eyes. The regal glare made him think of an absolute ruler, but there was nothing tame about his Heather. She was wild, feral, and downright vicious at times. My kind of woman, long on guts, short on self-preservation, my pretty tyrant. She’d charge hell with a bucket of water.
It was the low, rich taunting voice he always missed most. She might tear strips off him with her words, but that voice was saturated with sex. He wanted to fall into the photo, grab her and hold her forever. He’d just hold those tall curves against him. She was the perfect size for him, heart-high. In the picture, she leaned against the corral rail, the summer wind ruffling her hair.
He'd told her to say, ‘cheese’. She hadn’t, of course. She’d never followed his directions in her entire life. She’d looked him straight in the face, smiled dangerously, and purred, “But, babe. I don’t want cheese. I want you.”
His hands shook when he snapped the photo. It was pure luck, not skill it’d come out this good. He’d assumed their wild lovemaking meant everything was great between them. She’d stopped complaining and calling the hunt for his brother the definition of insanity. She’d even driven him to the airport, kissed him goodbye like they were going to jump back into the sack, not like they’d just left it.
How was he supposed to know she really intended to leave him?
He flung open the car door, paced to the trunk, and removed his duffel bag, a leftover from his stint in the Marines. He slung the carrying strap over his shoulder, slammed the trunk, and went around the house to the back door. The kitchen was dark. Daylight filtered through the door behind him. Some came through the window above the farmhouse sink.
What happened to the curtains? He flipped the light switch by the door. Nothing. Had the bulb in the overhead fixture burned out? He turned, saw the note taped neatly to the outside of the breaker box.
Durango, call to have the utilities turned on when you want them. That includes the landline. You never phone me, so I won’t worry.
“Damn it!” He tore down the note, wadded it into a ball, and looked for the wastebasket.
Gone. He walked further into the room. The table and chairs were missing too. So were all the appliances, the electric range, fridge, washer, dryer, and dishwasher. No microwave. He grimaced, grateful they’d totally furnished the rental. At least, he wouldn’t have to listen to the landlord pitching a major fit.
The cupboards were bare. Another note lay where the dishes used to be. I gave away the groceries. You had more important things to do than be here for me or the meals I cooked for you.
“You little witch.” He shook his head. He was cracking up. Imagine arguing with a piece of paper.
He stormed through the house, searching the rest of the rooms. She’d stripped the place. The furniture was gone, everything they’d bought together. A manila envelope was taped to the bedroom door, obviously where she’d left her engagement ring. Another note fluttered beside it.
I got rid of the bed. I didn’t want you to share it with someone else. Your clothes are at the cleaners down the street. You can pay them to do laundry for you. I’m outta here. I’m going to Tennessee. So long, lover!
He dropped the duffel on the floor. He ripped the paper off the door, took down the envelope, tore open one end, and shook out the emerald engagement ring, shoving it into his shirt pocket. He’d save the note inside for later, make her read it to him.
“I’ll find you, Heather Marie McElroy. When I do, I’m taking you to bed. Then we’re getting married. Enough is damn well enough! I’m done putting up with your tantrums.”
He collected the other snotty notes on his way to the back door. He slammed it behind him, pausing to lock the vacant house. A quick stop at the detached garage revealed it was empty. “Where the hell is my truck?”
She’d better not have sold the classic ’57 Chevy four-by-four. If she had, there’d be another nastygram, but he didn’t see one. Okay, so he’d track her down. After all this time, I know where she likes to party, even if she calls it ‘singing for her supper,’ and it won’t be the first time I’ve dragged her out of a bar.
Three taverns later, he’d heard the same story from all the bartenders. She hadn’t been around since September. Did her folks know her address in Nashville? If they did, would they tell him when he called or would they chew him out for standing in the way of her dreams again? He eyed the CD the last bar manager gave him, then slid it into the player.
The twang of guitars, beat of drums, and finally, organ music slid into a melody. It was an old Dottie West song. Lesson in Leavin’ was one of Heather’s favorites. Why hadn’t he realized she was giving him a warning when she sang it before he left two months ago on a vain hunt for his brother?
Okay, so he hadn’t found him this time, Durango thought, but he’d keep looking. Heather’s husky, sexy voice sent chills down his spine. The words echoed through him as a wronged woman sought vengeance for heartache.
* * * *
Liberty Valley, Washington ~ May 5th, 2015
He’d spent the day on the construction site, too busy working on a new strip mall to check messages. Finally, back in his office, he crossed to the desk, picked up the landline, and called the automatic answering service.
Her mocking voice filled his ears. “Durango, sorry I missed you. Happy birthday, lover.”
He froze, pressed the button to repeat the message.
It’s not my birthday. She knows better than anyone that’s in March. What the hell is going on? What game is she playing now?
**Don't miss the rest of the series! **
Josie Malone lives and works at her family business, a riding stable in Washington State. Teaching kids to ride and know about horses, she finds in many cases, she's taught three generations of families. Her life experiences span adventures from dealing cards in a casino, attending graduate school to get her Masters in Teaching degree, being a substitute teacher, and serving in the Army Reserve - all leading to her second career as a published author. Visit her at her website, www.josiemalone.com to learn about her books.
