Beneath Broken (Imperfect Heroes #2) Read online

  “Vandalized?!” Mike replied. “What happened?”

  Happy for the change of subject, I proceeded to tell them the whole story from beginning to end. “Yes. Some maniac broke the glass to the office and stole a bunch of random stuff. Mason and his team just arrested him yesterday, as a matter of fact. He has some sort of strange fascination with nonprofit businesses. Guess he has some large tax debt he’s not happy about.”

  “Did he steal from any churches?” Mike asked, his face red, his fork teetering on the edge of his plate of half finished food.

  I furrowed my brows and replied, “Ya know, I don’t know. I’m not sure what other businesses he broke into besides ours.”

  “That’s really fucked up,” Kenny said, shaking his head before taking a bite of chicken.

  “Kenneth!” Samantha scolded.

  He grinned and dipped his head. “Sorry, Ma.”

  Samantha turned her attention to me. “I’m sorry you went through that. You’ve certainly been through enough.”

  Glad the subject was off of Mason, I decided to keep it that way as I said, “I have something for you.”

  They all looked at me expectantly, so I stood up and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to my car.”

  “Go ahead. Even though you didn’t eat much, young lady,” Mike said, eyeing my plate.

  Buddy, you’re lucky I ate what I did, I wanted to say. But of course I didn’t. I just smiled at him and left the house to go out to my car. I looked at the items I needed to give up to make Keith’s family happy and lingered a bit too long at the trunk. I needed a moment. I needed a pep-talk to tell me that everything would be all right. I thought about calling my best friend and decided I didn’t need to. I could do this.

  When I returned, the family was sitting around in the living room, a pitcher of sweet tea and sugar cookies placed on the coffee table in the middle of the room. A game show was on the TV but it had been muted.

  I set the small sapling in the corner of the room and went to sit by Keith’s mother on their brown leather sofa. She looked at me and smiled with dark blue eyes.

  Picking up her hand and grasping it in mine, I said, “Keith would have wanted you to have these.”

  I pried open her strong, sun-spotted hands and reached into my pocket. Pulling out Keith’s dog tags, I placed them in her palm.

  She opened her hand and looked down as the metal caught the light from the window. The light also illuminated the unshed tears in her eyes.

  She looked at them, then at me, her face crumpling. “My baby. He was so brave.” She choked on the last word.

  Mark and Kenny were watching us now, but I only looked at Samantha. “Yes, he was. Keep these as a reminder of his bravery. He loved you all so much.”

  I then pulled Keith’s small, blue iPod Nano from my pocket and put it in her hand. “This has all of Keith’s favorite songs, but that’s not why I wanted to give it to you. I had saved a voicemail from Keith and was able to get the cell phone company to turn it into an audio file, which I loaded on there. Any time you need to hear his voice, it’s there.”

  Samantha, with tears now streaming down her face, looked into my eyes then launched herself into my arms, which I accepted. My arms gripped her with the warmth and love I had so needed these past seventeen months.

  “I miss him so much,” she confessed, softly weeping against me.

  I couldn’t be strong anymore. I also broke down, resting my chin on her gray-blonde hair and held her tight. “Me, too.”

  We stayed that way for several minutes and then I pulled away, remembering the other gifts.

  Keith had always treasured the classic .357 Magnum revolver his dad had given him in high school. He would shoot that thing at the gun range, then clean it, and then put it back carefully into its case. I reached down and picked up the case from where it sat at my feet.

  Standing, I crossed the small room to Kenny and set it in his lap. “Keith loved this gun. He bought special bullets for it, shot it at the range whenever he could, and then cleaned it meticulously.” I looked over at Mike. “I know you gave it to him because he was your firstborn, but I think Kenny should have it now,” I said.

  Mike smiled sadly at me, just nodding. “That’s what I want, too.”

  Kenny’s eyes went wide at the sight of the case. As I laid it in his lap, he looked up at me then down at the case. Popping it open, he gently removed the shiny silver weapon and turned it over in his hands. I had already made sure the weapon was safe and not loaded – Keith had at least taught me that.

  “Dad, this was yours?” Kenny asked, stroking the gun and looking at his father.

  Mike smiled. “Yes, son. It’s yours now. Be nice to it. It sticks sometimes, but if it likes you, it’ll shoot perfectly.”

  “Thank you, Pop.” Kenny looked at me. “And thank you. This is a family treasure.”

  I patted his large knee and got up off the sofa, headed to the corner of the room, and picked up the baby sapling.

  I carried it over to Mike and set it next to him. He eyed it as I said, “I want to plant a tree in Keith’s honor. I can’t think of a better place to do it but here on his family’s farm. Will you plant it for me?”

  Big, tough Mike’s eyes went misty as he nodded. “Of course.”

  I heard Samantha sniffle from behind me. I then reached into the canvas bag I’d brought and pulled out a large, smooth stone. I stroked it absently with my thumb, remembering how I’d had had it made about six months ago. I had always wanted to plant the tree, but didn’t know where, so I had the stone made to go next to the tree for when I eventually figured it out. Lifting it out carefully with both hands, and knowing that Keith’s family were Christian God-fearing folks, I read the inscription out loud: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

  John 15:13.

  Keith Andrew Mathis, Son, Husband, Brother, Soldier, Hero. 1987 – 2014.”

  Samantha was weeping softly again. Mike didn’t even pretend to hide his tears this time as he swiped them away with the backs of his meaty hands. I felt warm, strong arms wrap around me from behind, and the familiar physique was one I melted into. I craned my neck up to look at Kenny and said, “Thank you.”

  “You really loved my brother, didn’t you?”

  I nodded, biting my lip. “I did. He was my world, and he will be missed.”

  Mike stroked a finger over a leaf of the sapling, admiring the tree.

  I turned away and looked at Keith’s twin. “I’m so sorry, Kenny. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

  He shook his head and looked at the ground, then back to me. Then, lifting the sleeve of his T-shirt, he exposed a gigantic tattoo that took up and wrapped around his entire upper arm. It was a Marine Corps insignia with his twin’s name and date of birth and death date underneath it.

  “You don’t even know how many comments I’ve gotten on this tattoo,” Kenny said, piercing me with a serious stare.

  Unsure what to say, I replied, “Yeah, like what?”

  He sighed and said, “’Kenneth, is that your boyfriend?’ and other comments I won’t repeat.”

  Chewing my lip to keep from saying something I might regret, I said, “I’m sorry, Kenny. I hope you set them straight.”

  He chuckled. “I do. I tell them Keith was my brother and died in the line of duty. That shuts them up real fast.”

  I shook my head and stroked the ink with my thumb. “I bet. It’s a beautiful tat. I know Keith would have loved it.”

  Mike got up and gripped the tree in his fist by its small trunk and lifted it off the ground. “I know the perfect spot for this.”

  I looked at Samantha and Kenny and shrugged, picking up the bag containing the engraved rock. We followed Mike out back. He stopped by a small tool shed and grabbed a shovel and continued out until he came to stop in front of a large pond. It almost resembled a small lake. “Boys loved this thing growing up, catching frogs and skipping r
ocks on it.”

  He picked up the shovel and with his foot, thrusted it into the earth about six feet away from the edge of the pond and dug a small hole as we watched. It only took him a couple of minutes to dig a hole big enough. Kenny grabbed the tree and handed it to his father. Together they pulled it out of its planter and inserted it in the hole, making sure the sapling was secure enough inside and then covered it back up with dirt. I carefully pulled the stone out and handed it to Mike, who placed it next to the sapling.

  “I’m going to build something nice to hold this rock. It’ll honor my son nicely.”

  With tears once again burning my eyes, I smiled and hugged them all as we admired Keith’s Tree.

  I stayed a few more hours visiting, and with happy but tearful goodbyes, I got into my car and started it up to get some cool air. Then I lifted the phone, hit my voicemail and listened one more time to Keith’s message.

  “Hi, babe. Just got here and wanted to check in. I will try to call you later. I love you and miss you already, baby. Talk to you soon.”

  Without any tears this time, I held my breath with more bravery than I felt as I pushed 7 on the keypad to delete the message. I blew out that breath and drove away.

  Chapter 26

  Mason

  I sat on the sofa with the TV up as loud as it would go, and eventually, I had to cover my ears with my hands. The Fourth of July had been a month ago, and while I had once looked forward to that holiday, I now did not care much for it. But – I had endured it, even smiled through it – so I felt it was unfair that I was now being subjected to a barrage of firecrackers and fireworks being set off somewhere in my apartment complex. They weren’t even legal here in Tampa, yet, I couldn’t bring myself to get the hell up off his couch and go tell the kids, or whoever they were, that they needed to fucking stop.

  Instead, I sat here like a pussy and held my fingers in my ears and watched TV with the closed captioning on to try to distract me. I really should get up and find some headphones and blast some music in my ears but… I couldn’t get up. It was like my ass was glued to the couch.

  Get up, Mason!

  Fireworks are set off in celebration, but to me, the sound is like incoming mortars and suddenly I’m back in the Middle East, hoping to God that one didn’t hit us or our camp. Firecrackers are like short bursts of rifle fire being shot at me and my buddies. The whistles and pops were what I heard before Scotty’s truck overturned and killed him and the rest of my brothers in front of my goddamn eyes.

  After discharging, the VA had practically made me go to therapy. Honestly, it helped a little… but of course nothing in this world could help completely. I had learned to not hold my breath, but instead breathe, and learn to deal with it.

  Just get up, grab your phone, and call 911. Or call Hunter and have him get a car over here. Or get up your own self, you stupid ass, and tell those little fuckers outside to knock it off.

  I tried to get up. I wanted to. I wished my cell was next to me but it wasn’t.

  With my eyes closed, I could still hear the pops and whistles.

  Stop, please just stop…

  My eyes slammed open when I heard a female voice. I pulled my fingers from my ears and strained to listen. The pops and whistles had stopped and I heard the voice screaming again. The feminine screams were angry, shouting. Not frightened or scared.

  Oh, shit, that’s Harper.

  Jumping off the couch, I ran to the front door and flung it open.

  “What is your problem? Stop lighting those firecrackers now! There are veterans around here! Do you think they want to hear firecrackers that sound like gunfire? Have some damn respect!”

  I ran out to her, a sudden protectiveness blanketing my entire being. Now with enough bravery and anger to back me up, I went over to the three teens, picked up all their illegal fireworks, and threw them into a nearby dumpster.

  “Hey!” one teen yelled!

  “What’s your problem, lady?” another of the teens said to Harper.

  I pointed a finger at the little punk. “Shut up. Don’t talk to her. I’m an off-duty police officer, so unless you’d like me to call backup, I suggest you all get the fuck out of here. Do not let me catch you here again, let alone with illegal fireworks. Understand?”

  They all glared at me like the disrespectful little shits they were, and went running out of the complex and out of sight.

  I turned to Harper and let out a sigh, and then hugged her. “Thank you.”

  She looked at me in the orange streetlight. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

  Shaking my head, I debated on telling her about my PTSD. I don’t know why I felt like I had to hide it, and it’s not like she wouldn’t understand. Hell, she probably had some herself after what she’d been through. Plus, this is what she did. That – and she should probably be warned about my nightmares before she found out the hard way.

  “PTSD… I’m sure you understand. I… it’s just… the firecrackers… I really did try to get up and tell them to stop. I just… was sort of stuck to my couch...”

  “Oh, Mace,” she said, her face almost crumpling in sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, it’s because of you I could get up. I heard your voice and didn’t want anything to happen to you. You distracted me in a good way.” I smiled at her and brushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.

  She smiled back at me. “Good, then. I’m glad. Let’s go back to my place. I want to show you something.”

  My mind immediately went to naughty places, and I didn’t need to be asked twice. She was supposed to come over here and stay the night and I was a tad nervous and excited – but she wanted me at her place. That had to be a good sign. I ran inside and threw some things into a duffel bag – presumptuous that I would be spending the night – and put on my shoes. Grabbing my phone, wallet, and keys before shutting off the lights and TV, I closed and locked the door behind me.

  I followed her in my car to her townhouse, which was only a couple of miles away. My mind was spinning from what had happened earlier. How had Harper been there, at the exact right place in the exact right time? How had she almost seemed to be able to read my mind? I truly did not think many people knew that fireworks and veterans did not mix. Maybe the world was becoming more aware because this truly fucked up war we were fighting was bringing awareness to people everywhere.

  Or maybe it was because Harper not only worked with veterans and had become a war widow, but was also an extremely beautiful, compassionate, and intelligent human being that she knew that the fireworks were uncalled for in a veteran-heavy town like Tampa.

  It couldn’t be that she knew I had triggers that caused flashbacks and nightmares… but she was kind and knowledgeable nonetheless. How in the hell did I get so lucky to have met her? To have her seem interested in me, too? I was just a cop, a vet, a nobody. She was beautiful and imperfect… broken but not beyond repair. Despite what had happened to her, I could tell she wasn’t irreparable. She could be mended and fixed, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be the man to help her. A fierce need to protect her had overtaken me almost the minute I’d met her. Her soft blue eyes that also stormed with stubborn determination had bored into mine that first day. Harper was a contradiction. A broken, struggling woman needing to be wrapped in love and protectiveness. But her outer shell? It was hard and fierce, like she could take care of herself and rule the world.

  When I’d found out about her husband, her mysterious persona suddenly made sense. Strong woman who’d been broken by tragedy… but even I could see that Harper wasn’t one to crumble under the crushing pressure of grief. She was a survivor, and even more than that, the strength of her resolve and personality turned me the hell on. I had always been attracted to strong women. Even Christy had been a strong, stubborn girl. It’s what attracted me to her, but being strong doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch. Sometimes I wished women would learn the difference.
<
br />   It seemed as though Harper had. Her strength was a major turn on. I wanted to climb inside her walls and find a place to hide and just be for a while. At her peak, I knew she embodied strength and power – but then again, so did I. I wanted to both protect her and be partnered with her. At her lowest, she became someone I wanted to hold and shelter. How did I explain this to her? I didn’t. I would simply have to show her.

  We’d reached her townhouse complex as I’d been deep in thought. I parked and rushed over to her garage right as she pulled her little black Honda into it. I reached her before she could get out.

  I opened the driver’s side door. “Hi.”

  “Hello,” she said, giggling shyly.

  I used a hand to help her out, then closed her door and followed her inside. She hit the button to close the garage and we were immediately in her kitchen as we entered her townhouse.

  She set her purse down and as soon as she turned around, I pushed her up against the fridge and sealed her mouth with mine, kissing her passionately with everything I had. The thoughts I’d had on the drive over had stirred things in me, and I was lit up with desire. I didn’t just want to fuck her. I wanted to spend all night worshipping her. I wanted her to worship me back, too, don’t get me wrong… but I wanted – no, I needed – her to see that I cared so very deeply for her and wanted her to know that she was still wanted and desired. That I would help her over the hurdle of grief and confusion.

  My mouth pressed over hers, and with ease and practiced precision, I caressed her mouth and tongue the way I knew she loved. Her body almost instinctively pressing into mine as our mouths mingled was the first sign. The second was the heat her lower region was giving off as my erection pressed into her. Her slim arms wrapped around me, her fingers lingering on my neck before they reached up and scraped the back of my neck and scalp with her short nails. What she was doing sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to shove her dress up and rip her panties off and penetrate her right there in the kitchen. I mustered up a small bit of self-control and pulled back slightly.