Titanium (13 page)

But it wasn't and might never be again. My world was the
worse for Kyle not being in it, and even if I lived forever, I'd never
understand why he or any of the others who lost everything were
dead and I wasn't.

Had God flipped a coin?

Heads he lives?

Tails he doesn't?

Nothing else made any sense to me.

The moment we hit the highway, I dropped the
façade and buried my face in my hands. "Oh my God. Oh my
God. Oh my God."

That did it. Zander choked and lost it. I made him get off the
road at the first opportunity. He turned the truck onto a dirt track
that disappeared into autumn-tinted woods. When he killed the
engine, he bolted from the truck. I gave him his space and sobbed for
yet another fatality of a war that wouldn't end for our troops even
after they came home. I gave Zander a few minutes alone before I got
out and joined him at the back of the truck. "I'm so sorry about
Kyle."

"Me, too." He wiped his face on his sleeve, avoiding my gaze.
"I knew he was struggling, but I did not see that coming."

I lowered the tailgate and climbed onto it, sitting and
dangling my legs. "How long had you known him?"

"We were both in Kandahar for a while. He got transferred.
We reconnected on a plane coming home." Zander sat beside me. The
truck dipped with the added weight. "He was so damn funny. Kept
me laughing even though I didn't have shit to feel good about." He
swiped at a stray tear tracking his flushed cheek and still wouldn't
look at me.

"I wish I'd known him better."

He snorted. "I don't. Dude never met a chick who didn't fall
for him."

Unsure how to take that, I let it go. "You should write his
parents a note."

"Yeah. I'll try to get his address on Monday. Surely I can talk
someone out of it."

"I'll bet Miranda would give it to you." My dry tone probably
said it all.

* * * *

For the rest of the afternoon, we said little to each other. I
knew sadness weighed him down. After a dinner of club sandwiches
that I'd toasted so the cheese would melt, we watched TV. Oddly
enough, we hadn't argued yet over what program we wanted to see. I
figured that would happen once we got more comfortable with each
other. At the moment we were both still being polite.

One of the major stations presented a special on a new
treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder aka PTSD that was
being done at the Little Rock, Arkansas, VA Medical Center. I listened
with interest while the host talked about veterans with issues,
especially when he described their symptoms. Did any apply to
Zander? Only his bad dreams, as far as I knew. Oh, and the guilt.

He honestly seemed pretty well adjusted for someone who'd
fought the enemy in a foreign land and lost body parts in the line of
duty. I guess I glanced at him one time too many. Why? Because
Kyle's suicide had scared me big time. As far as I could tell, Zander
wasn't having that kind of problem, but I knew he faced challenges
every day.

"I'm not suicidal, okay? I already told you that."

"I know you did." I got up from the recliner and moved over
to the couch, where I sat on the cushion next to his. "But just in case
you ever feel that lost, I want you to promise you'll call me before
you do anything."

"And what will you do? Ring all my wounded ex-neighbors
to intervene? Is that why you got their phone numbers?"

He was wondering why I'd done that? Good. I decided to
yank his chain a little. "No, idiot. I did that because a couple of them
are total hunks. I got everyone's number to keep from being
obvious."

Zander actually flinched, although he had to know I was
lying.

I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't. So I was laughing
when I gave in. "Actually, I'm hoping your friends will be my
friends."

He'd never looked more relieved. "Why?"

"Because I had a really good time today."

Zander's pleased smile warmed me all over.

Leaving him to his TV, I sat at the desk to check my email. I
had a short one from my father giving me his address and phone
number. I was shocked to see he lived in Dallas. I sent him mine,
even though he might already have them. He'd managed to get my
email address somehow.

I also had mail from my bank. Since it looked official, I
clicked on it thinking someone was contacting me about the money
Clint had transferred to my account. But the email was from
someone else.

Hello, Riley. Missing your panties? I'll bet Zander isn't. I
promise I'll give them back to you very soon and in person. Meanwhile,
I'm picturing you without them.

I stared at the words, not quite believing my eyes, until I felt
Zander standing behind me. One look at his face revealed he was
there because of me though I didn't remember making a sound.

He read the words on the screen. "I'm gonna kill that jerk
off."

I shot out the door. Riley caught up just as I got to Charlie's
side of the house and grabbed my arm before I could knock.

"You think Charlie sent that?" Her eyes had never been
wider.

"He could easily have gotten your email address off your
computer. You're always logged in." The look on her face made me
walk her back home, a matter of ten steps. "You stay here. I want his
full attention."

She nodded.

I went back to Charlie's door and banged on it. He seemed
surprised to see me again. I cut to the chase. "Did you send Riley a
threatening email?"

"No way, dude."

He wasn't lying. "Did you let someone into her
apartment?"

"No."

Another truth. Hm. "Have you been spying on Riley?"

"Absolutely not. What's going on? Why are you asking me all
these questions?"

"Someone's harassing her."

"It's not me, I swear. I'd be crazy to. She's totally hot and
pays the rent on time."

Baffled, I left him and went back to Riley, who waited just
inside her door. "Well?"

"It's not him."

She sighed so pitifully that I pulled her into my arms. "You
should forward the email to Sergeant Brian. Maybe he can do
something with it. And once you've done that, we should get out of
here."

"And go where?"

"I might know a place. Let me make a quick call." Releasing
me, he walked out of the room. I could barely hear him talking over
the TV as I dragged myself away from the computer. Zander,
standing in the living room again, motioned for me to join him. "Pack
an overnight bag. We're leaving."

"Really?"

"Yep. Canyon Lake. Sparks's parents have a cabin there on
the east side of the water. He told me where they hide the key."

"They won't mind?"

"They're in Florida, waiting for his sister to have a baby, but
even if they weren't they'd loan it for one night. I've met Sparks's
folks. They're all right."

"Will we be safe?"

"As safe as we are here and probably more."

It took me no time to throw PJs, spare jeans and a top, clean
undies, and a few toiletries into a cloth tote bag. I met Zander in the
hall. "What if we're followed?"

"I'll lose them. Do you trust me, Riley?"

"Yes."

His answering smile told me he knew I wasn't lying. "Good.
Don't worry about a thing. You're safe with me."

I believed him.

Less than five minutes later, he backed his truck onto the
street and we headed to the lake. With it being early yet, we
naturally had traffic all around us. But it thinned the farther from
town we got. Finally we were alone on the tree-lined highway. I
looked back constantly and saw no headlights.

Did I stop worrying, relax, and enjoy the view? After all, I
had my own personal body guard. A former member of Army Special
Forces, no less.

But my fear ran deep. "What if Jason is following us with his
lights off?"

In answer, Zander doused his truck's lights and, aided by the
glow of a gibbous moon, drove until we came to a dirt road. He
pulled the truck onto it. We sat there for a good five minutes in the
dark. No one passed us. With the lights back on, we finished the drive
with me navigating from hastily scribbled instructions.

A final turn took us down a dirt road that was barely more
than a path compromised by tree roots and rocks. At the end of it, we
found a small cabin. It lay in darkness, but beyond it I caught the
shimmer of the moon reflecting on the water, just a short walk
through the woods away. I checked Zander's watch. Twenty-one
hundred hours. I subtracted twelve and converted it to nine
o'clock.

Aided by a flashlight, Zander uncovered a key tucked under
a loose board on the porch floor. We went inside. I tried the light
switch, but nothing happened.

"There's supposed to be a breaker box around here." He
went in search of it.

I stood in the shadowy room, using my senses to get my
bearings. With the front door wide open, I could hear the night
sounds that had resumed now that we were inside. Crickets. Tree
frogs. The rustle of falling leaves in the wind. I also heard a distant
splash.

I sniffed the air and smelled damp leaves, dirt, the mustiness
of a cabin that had been closed for a while. My eyes, adjusted now to
the dark, saw shadows within shadows, one of them Zander, who
flicked on a flashlight and walked back to me.

"Can't find the damn thing."

"Do we need it? I see a lantern. Is there kerosene in it?"

He picked it up and sniffed. "Yeah. But we don't even need
that. We have a fireplace and plenty of logs on the porch to burn."
Our gazes met. "Ever camped out?"

"No. You?"

He grinned at my stupid question. "You could say that, yeah.
But there was a lot more sand than there is here, and I was sweating
the whole time."

I touched his face. "You're not sweating now."

Zander caught my hand and kissed the palm, an action that
seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised me. At any rate, he
quickly released it. I took the flashlight from him and began to
explore the tiny cabin, which consisted of three rooms. One was part
kitchen, part dining room, part den. The other two were
bedrooms.

"Where's the bathroom?" I asked.

"Latrine's outside."

"Wow. You do realize I'm not going to walk to it alone,
right?"

"No problem. I'll even carry the toilet paper, assuming
there's some around here."

"Ew."

Zander burst out laughing, and for the first time in days, I let
myself relax completely. We were okay here. No one had followed us,
and if they somehow had, we'd hear them approaching the cabin
long before they got to it. The terrain and Zander's trained eyes and
ears promised that.

The scuttle of tiny feet shattered my peace not ten seconds
after I attained it. Mice? Or even worse, rats? "What was that?"

"Rodents."

"Oh God. Where?"

Zander flicked the beam of the flashlight up to the ceiling.
Tiny glowing eyes peered down at us from the exposed rafters.

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

"They're harmless."

"I still hate them."

"We'll be fine."

"But they can climb anything." I shivered, totally grossed
out. "They've clearly had the run of the cabin for a while now.
They've probably even been in the beds." Double
ew
.

"My sleeping bag is in the truck. I'll zip you into it."

"I'm too claustrophobic to cover my head."

"So we'll both sleep in it, and I'll keep them away."

I decided I could live with that. "Okay."

He grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah." I hugged my chilly arms. "Are you going to make a
fire or not?"

"Am."

"We should've brought some food."

"Did."

Ashamed that I'd been so helpless and whiny, I stepped
toward Zander and gave him a hard hug. "Sorry I'm so high
maintenance tonight. I really do appreciate this."

"I know."

Starting the fire was a breeze, thanks to the tinder and dry
logs near the hearth. Once I had it going, I went to the kitchen table
and unpacked the rations I'd stuffed into one of Riley's totes before
we left. She had a zillion of them, all different colors. Corn chips,
leftover chili, ketchup, and cheese for Frito-chili pies. Graham
crackers, marshmallows, chocolate chips for dessert. I'd also brought
along canned drinks and paper goods.

And a good thing, too. The cabin had no pots and pans,
cooking utensils, or dinnerware. Not even the disposable stuff.

I noticed that Riley's gaze constantly bounced from one
corner to another in the room and guessed she hadn't gotten over
the mice thing. Since I'd had two whites as pets growing up, they
honestly didn't bother me. My mom had always hated them, though.
Probably because one got out of his cage one night and woke her
when it crawled across her face.

Laughing softly, I remembered that story and many others,
most of them from the days when we lived in a white frame house in
a middle-class suburb. My parents were different back then. Happier.
And life was so simple. Dad worked and attended law classes. Mom
helped out at my elementary school. No one was trying to keep up
with the Joneses.

Things began to change when Dad graduated and went into
practice. His meteoric rise from junior assistant to full partner
became an obsession. My parents set their sights on the good life and
attained it, dragging Angela and me along for the ride. And while
naturally proud they'd achieved their goals, I resented the role they
now expected me to play. Somehow I no longer fit in with my own
family, and a war in Afghanistan had further alienated me.

"A kiss for your thoughts."

"You don't have a penny on you?"

Riley tilted her head. "You'd rather have a penny than a
kiss?"