Pieces of Broken Time (3 page)

“Blake, how have you been?” Her voice fared better than his formal greeting. It made her wonder if the detached demeanor was only meant for her.
Don’t take it personal. Just breathe, Jennifer!

“It’s not often that my best friend and his fiancée are in town, so allow me to get you both drunk and happy. We’re taking shots!” Blake summoned the lady bartender, who took his order while devouring him with her eyes.

Amused, Jennifer studied a side of Blake she hadn’t seen before. The pictures Trent had sent her hadn’t done Blake justice. In person, he was bigger than life. A smile always lit his face, and his eyes were the most mesmerizing blue she’d ever seen. His rugged charm had several women doing a double take, and Jennifer was certain she almost heard a couple of them purring. Add Trent to the mix, and the two of them were too much for the female population of the room, who stumbled over their own two feet trying to get a closer look at the gorgeous men. Deep down, she sensed that there was more to Blake than just striking good looks. He seemed in tune with his emotions and sensitive to others’ feelings as well.

Jennifer couldn’t believe how oblivious the guys were to the stir they created around them, and the main attractions at the bar were focused completely on her. Their easy banter back and forth was just loud enough to make her part of their teasing, despite the loud music in the background.

The moment their drinks came, Blake raised his shot glass. “For my best bud and his girl, may life treat you with kindness. Here’s to many,
many
years of happiness together.”

“Thanks, my man,” Trent said and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

They bumped glasses and downed the clear liquid in one quick gulp.

While Jennifer struggled with the burning effect of the tequila, Blake waved his hand again at the bartender. “Give us another round.”

“So any ideas where we’re headed next?” Trent asked.

“Can’t we just talk about something else? I’m hoping to catch some decent waves while I’m here,” Blake said.

Jennifer watched the two men talk animatedly while they launched into recollections of past deployments and comical conversations among the other Army Rangers. Trent seemed to relax even more as the night progressed, but she still saw the strain in his eyes every time he glanced at her.

If Blake noticed, he didn’t say anything. He kept everyone entertained with bottomless drinks and easy chatter.

She caught him sneaking a glance in her direction several times during the course of the night, but he didn’t make her uncomfortable. On the contrary, he was much too jolly for her taste, as if he was trying hard to appear upbeat.

Trent was lucky to have such a good friend in Blake. Jennifer recognized the same easy relationship with her best friend, Coleen Newhart. If she could find someone good enough for the man with the easygoing personality and arresting charm, she wouldn’t mind playing cupid. She just knew he would be a great catch.

It was well past one in the morning by the time Trent announced that he’d had enough. Jennifer had stopped hours ago, at shot number five.

“I’m ready to crash.” Trent could barely lift his head as he skimmed his lips along her neck.

“I better get a room,” Blake said. “I don’t think a DUI would be good to have in my record.”

“Bullshit, man. Crash in our room. We have a suite. You can take the couch. Just do not fuckin’ snore, okay?” Trent landed a playful slap on Blake’s shoulder.

Jennifer decided to jump in. “Yeah, stay in our suite. Just don’t snore. I’m not equipped for a duet.”

Blake hesitated for a moment before he nodded and chuckled. “I can’t promise anything, my dear.”

Jennifer climbed off the barstool and linked arms with each of the men, and they made their way toward the elevator, weaving like the crazy drunks that they were.

September 25, 2001

“Drew. Sit, boy.” Blake nudged the Doberman aside with his knee while he carried groceries from the garage into the kitchen. The big oaf could smell pig ears a mile away.

The dog sat on his haunches with his eyes fixed on the bag that Blake set down on the counter.

“Good boy.” He rummaged inside the paper sack, watching Drew wag his tail so hard the dog’s whole body shook. Blake pulled out the bag containing the treats, took one out, and held it up.

Drew watched him with focused interest while Blake walked toward the sliding glass door and slid it open.

His rented townhouse in a suburb a few miles from LA had a little concrete slab for a patio, but it was enough space that the dog could spend most of his time outside rather than cooped up in the house. The warm, midsummer breeze wafted in as Blake strode out, wiggling the treat in the air.

Drew perked his cropped ears but he never moved, his eyes glued to Blake’s hand. When Blake threw the pig ear across the yard, the dog watched it fly through the air yet remained in his spot. He glanced up at Blake, his sleek body vibrating with expectation, and waited for his command.

“Go!”

Drew sailed off the patio and into the yard.

Blake chuckled and returned to the kitchen, put the groceries away, and started lunch. After retrieving his mac and cheese from the microwave, he sat at his dinette and rummaged through his mail. He grinned at the newest edition of
Playboy
and set it aside, planning to read it cover to cover at bedtime. Forking a big bite of macaroni into his mouth, he pulled out a bill from the gas company, a credit card statement, and a car payment notice. Blake glanced through the rest of the junk mail until he spotted the familiar Army postmark.

He straightened in his chair, and a strange emotion washed over him as he stared at the envelope. It was lightweight, but something told him this wasn’t one of those one-page announcements they sent out from time to time. Since he’d just returned from Sierra Leone a few months ago, he’d hoped for more down time before the next assignment.

He ripped the envelope open, unfolded the paper, and began to read. Skimming past the greetings, he located the crux of the letter—“
report to your superior at Fort Benning in one week
.” There were no other instructions given.

Blake stared at the letter until his vision began to blur, while possible scenarios raced through his head. With the recent attacks on US soil by a group of Islamic militants, he’d sort of expected this. Given the heinous nature of the crime, he had figured it would be a matter of time before the government would take military action. He might be jumping the gun, but his gut told him where his next destination would be.

Eventually Blake stood and, with automatic motions, tossed what was left of his lunch, washed his fork and glass, called Drew back inside, and then moved upstairs.

First things first.

It wasn’t a phone call he wanted to make, but he had no choice.

Blake dialed his parents’ number, and his mother picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Mom? Is Dad there with you?” Better if they heard his announcement together, in case they asked questions, which he was certain that they would.

“He’s here. Jack . . . Blake’s on the phone! Take the cordless in the kitchen.” 

“Blake, what’s going on?” his father asked.

“Mom, Pops . . .” Blake took a long, deep breath before exhaling the lungful of air. “I’m leaving in a week. Destination unknown.”

Several long seconds of silence ticked by then his mother gasped, and a sob tore through the phone line.

He heard his father clear his throat. “Blake, you’re good, right?”

“Yes, Pops. I’m tight.”

His father didn’t ask any other questions. Jack Connor was a man of few words who stuck with relevant information and what he deemed important to Blake. Goodbyes had never been one of those things.

“Is there anything you want me to do for you, son?”

“There is something I’m hoping you can do.”

“Say the word.”

“Can you take Drew in while I’m away? I hate to take him to the kennel since I have no idea how long I’ll be gone—”

“You got it. Anything else?” That was Jack, direct and no-nonsense. Blake had always liked that about his father.

“Can I leave my Jeep with you, too?”

“I’ll be happy to drive the gas guzzler for you.”

Even though Jack’s attempt to lighten up the conversation worked, Blake still felt the unspoken tension. The sooner he got off the phone, the better it’d be for all of them.

“Blake.” His mother tried to keep her voice even. “Write and call us whenever you can?”

“Yes, Mom. I promise I will. Every chance I get.” He hung up before the waterworks began.

Blake dialed Katrina’s number. He drummed his fingers on his nightstand, waiting for her to answer. When her voice mail picked up, he hung up.

There were no expectations between him and Katrina. Their relationship was easy—too easy sometimes—and they acted more like fuck-buddies than lovers, calling when either one of them needed a release. Still, he’d rather tell her this kind of news in person than leave it on a message.

He gathered his keys from the hallway bureau and patted Drew’s head before he walked to the garage.

Dissecting their relationship was difficult. Though he and Katrina had dated off and on in college, they’d kept things light and had remained friends. They’d kept in contact with each other even after graduation. Katrina had branched off into real estate not long after she had earned her accounting degree. Dainty and with the most gorgeous blue eyes he’d ever seen, Katrina was feisty and just what Blake had needed in his life.

It took twenty minutes to reach her beach house in the affluent suburb of Manhattan Beach, steps away from the ocean.

When she opened the door, Blake knew his announcement could wait. There was a more pressing matter he’d rather attend to first.

“Hey, Blake,” she said in her usual sweet tone. She looked almost regal with her blond hair arranged in an intricate and elegant twist at the top of her head.

He let his eyes rake over her full, inviting lips and down to the V of her robe, where her rounded cleavage peeked out. He licked his lips in anticipation while crossing the threshold and claimed her mouth.

An hour and several orgasms later, they rested and listened to each other’s ragged breaths, smiling at yet another satisfying time together.

Blake propped on the arm of the sofa. “I got a letter in the mail today.” He didn’t have to say any more. Katrina was all too familiar with the nature of his career.

Her relaxed and laid-back demeanor turned into one of indifference. “So this is it, huh?”

“I guess. I don’t know how long it’ll take before I get back. I don’t want you to wait.” Blake watched her grimace.

“Sure, but call me if you get the chance. I still want to know what’s going on with you.” She stood up, not bothering to cover her body.

Blake eyed her naked figure as she walked toward the bathroom and shut the door behind her. He couldn’t help but notice she returned with a lit cigarette in one hand and an ashtray in the other.

Katrina rarely smoked, only indulging in the vice when she was stressed or nervous.

“I will, but no promises. We agreed on this.” Blake picked up his jeans and shirt from the floor and got dressed.

“Yes, we did.” Katrina blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. “Take good care of yourself, Blake.”

Ignoring the fact that the smile had never reached her eyes, he leaned forward and tousled her hair. “You, too. Take care of yourself.” He left without looking back.

He hadn’t missed the soft sob that followed the click of the door any more than he had the cigarette, but he refused to dwell on it. He had a week to pack, move his belongings out of his rented townhouse, and get Drew situated. He didn’t have time for bad habits or sure signs of things to come.

Chapter 2

October 19, 2001 ~ Kandahar, Afghanistan

Briefing had lasted a week. Right after Blake’s unit was given their specific tasks, they shipped out of Fort Benning for a fifteen-hour flight to the southern part of Afghanistan. Once again, Blake and Trent’s assignments had reunited them.

The two had first met and struck up an odd friendship during basic training. They had both volunteered as Ranger candidates. Their constant jokes and ribbing had helped them survive MOS, jump school, and RIP together. At this point, it was more than a relief to share the same duty again.

The Army Rangers, together with other special operations forces, were set to spearhead ground operations and conduct air assaults on several sites in response to 9/11 and the attacks on US soil. Their aircraft was equipped to drop a couple of hundred soldiers on a landing strip near Kandahar, Blake and Trent among them.

The air was hot and thick with dust as they secured the area. Blake moved with efficiency, following orders and taking Trent’s left flank. With his pulse thumping in his ears, Blake felt the rush of adrenaline pumping in his body when they worked with seamless accuracy with the rest of the unit, stabilizing the landing zone with minimal resistance. The entire seize and secure objective had lasted six hours with only a few minor injuries sustained by their unit.