The Marine Finds His Family

Her throat ached, clogged with tears of frustration and loss.

She just wanted to go home. All the places she’d lived over the past year flashed behind her closed eyelids. The tiny bungalow she’d bought in Florida hurt the most to think about. Her studio. Tyler’s bedroom full of his toys. Her room with the soft mattress and her favorite blue decorations. She even missed the leaky pipe in the bathroom.

All of it gone.

Anger replaced the threatening tears. She wanted it back. All of it.

She’d do whatever she could to get it back.

Slowly, wiping her eyes on her shoulder, Tammie stood away from the wall. She took a deep breath and started walking again. One way or another, she was going home.

When she rounded the corner where the diner sat, the bright lights of the block eased her fears. The diner. The liquor store. The pawnshop...

She’d met the owner of the pawnshop when he’d come into the diner a couple weeks ago. Nice, older guy. Tipped good.

Stepping inside the brightly lit store, Tammie noticed that the pawnshop was huge. Every last corner was filled with pieces of furniture, electronics galore, some odd stuffed animal heads on the wall and cases of jewelry. She’d never seen anything like it. Tammie ignored most of it, especially the jewelry cases—it would hurt too much. Instead, she walked purposefully to the cases at the back. Five hundred and forty-six dollars wouldn’t buy her a new gun. It wouldn’t buy her a big gun.

But it would buy her a working one.

Her hands shook as she held the cold metal...thing in the palm of her hand.

“You know how to shoot that, lady?” the kid behind the counter asked.

“Not yet,” was all she said.

She knew she was taking a risk, filling out all the paperwork, but if Dom were following her—maybe he’d think twice knowing she was armed.

Her resolve and anger slipped into place and she calmed. Carefully, she counted the precious bills out onto the counter, leaving herself with barely enough money to eat until she got paid on Friday.

She headed out into the artificially lit night toward the diner. She’d be early—again—but Cora didn’t mind her crashing in the tiny break room, as long as she was ready and on her feet in time for the rush.

She hefted her backpack, its newly added weight comforting. She was ready.

CHAPTER FOUR

DJ PULLED WYATT’S truck over to the curb and killed the engine. The worn streets and should-be-condemned houses reminded him too much of an Afghan village he’d been to once. A lifetime ago. Despite the Texas heat, he shivered and stared at the house beyond the wire fence.

A good hundred years old, it was probably an old farmhouse that the urban sprawl had engulfed. It didn’t look like the rest of the block. Older. Worn.

The porch ran downhill and a coonhound rested on the uneven boards. DJ climbed out and crossed the street. He opened the gate, and the hound lifted its head. DJ didn’t hear a growl or see much other movement. A good sign.

He’d worn his fatigues and driven the big black truck today on purpose. He wanted Cora—was that her name?—to be able to figure out who he was. Tyler seemed to like the old woman and her coonhound—Rufus? Yeah, that was his name. Rufus. Tyler had said they’d been really good people.

DJ knew the dog wasn’t a threat. Tyler had told him that and had given him info on the dog treats the hound liked best. His pocket was packed with a bagful. So far the dog hadn’t moved except to swish an ear at the fly that buzzed him.

“Hello?” DJ called, hoping someone would step out and greet him. Yeah, right. He’d more likely get his head blown off. Slowly, he took a couple of steps. Waited. Another two steps.

“That’s far enough,” an old woman’s voice called from an open window.

“Cora?” he called out.

“Yeah. Who’s askin’?”

“DJ. DJ Hawkins.” He had nothing to lose at this point. This woman was a good person according to Tyler. She’d helped Tammie hide from whatever or whomever she was running from. She’d been the one to find Wyatt and help Tyler get to him. She cared, and for that DJ respected her. “I’m looking for Tammie Easton.”

“Yeah? Well, she ain’t here.”

Despite the negative responses, DJ felt as if he was making progress. “Well, I know she was a friend of yours. Do you know where she might be?”

“Why should I tell you?”

He knew what he wanted to say. Should he? What the hell. “Tyler wants his mother back.” He took a step forward. “And I agree.” Well, mostly he did, but admitting that part wouldn’t get him any answers.

The elderly woman who stepped out onto the tilting porch wasn’t even five feet tall. The shotgun she held in her hands looked huge in comparison and was aimed straight at his chest. Not the first time he’d stared down the barrel of a gun. A trickle of sweat sneaked down his back.

Tyler had said Cora would know who he was. If Tammie was here, he hoped she’d recognize him and speak up. Preferably before the shotgun got seriously involved.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” He knew he’d have to draw on every ounce of his Southern charm and manners. Cora was old-school. Slowly, the tiny woman made her way down the steps, the gun barrel never wavering. He extended a hand, but she didn’t take it—she’d have had to take one off the gun to do so. He let his hand drop back to his side.

The silence stretched out. DJ could almost see the wheels turn in the old woman’s head.

“I know who you are, young man. If I did know where...” Her voice lowered, and she and the gun moved closer. “Why should I tell you?”

“’Cause Tyler’s birthday is coming up and he’s not too happy about his mom missing it.”

“That boy.” She fought a smile, and then, shaking her head, she sobered. “He doing okay?”

“Yeah. Real good.”

“Look here.” She shook the shotgun as if to emphasize her point. “You didn’t hear this from me, but you might want to have yourself a nice big piece of pie at the Half Cup Café, sometime after ten p.m.”

“She workin’ there?”

“I can’t say any more.” The woman glanced around and shook the gun again for good measure. The softened look on her face no longer held the same threat, though. “You give that boy a hug for me, you hear me?” She leaned in for added emphasis.

DJ lifted his hands in surrender, completing her show for whoever she believed was watching. “I’ve got a gift for the dog from Tyler—in my pocket.”

“Reach for it real careful.” She waved with the gun and DJ fought the urge to smile. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag. “Now drop it on the ground.” He got the distinct impression this woman had seen a few too many Westerns in her day. But he’d play along. She’d given him the info he needed.

“Thanks for your time, ma’am.”

She didn’t say any more, but he didn’t hear her move away, either. DJ went back to the truck and climbed in. It wasn’t until he stopped at the end of the street, and glanced in the rearview mirror, that he saw the gun lower. She bent and picked up the bag, stuffing it into her pocket before scurrying back to the front porch. He smiled when he saw the old dog rise up and follow her inside. Tyler would be happy.

But how would Tammie react when she saw him?

Eight hours later he was close to finding out. DJ leaned against the brick wall of a closed thrift store. It was late. Really late. Maybe too late.

Across the street, the Half Cup Café sat like a beacon at the end of the darkened street. None of the other businesses were open at this hour, and the flash of the open-twenty-four-hours neon sign bathed their darkness with flashes of red.

DJ had gone back out to the ranch after talking to Cora. He’d strategized with Wyatt and swapped the truck for his bike and a duffel bag. Parked at the broken curb, the bike took its turns bathing in the flashing lights.

The diner’s glass walls gave him a clear view of the staff and customers inside. The ratty old diner was the last place he wanted to find Tammie. Despite what Cora had told him, he’d hoped somehow that she wouldn’t be here, doing this. So far from her dreams—the dreams she’d told him about all those years ago.

He stood there, watching, waiting and wondering for a long time.

Tammie wasn’t the only waitress working tonight, but DJ focused solely on her. She moved around, swerving between tables, filling a coffee cup here, a water glass there. She’d been working in an ice cream parlor when they’d met—the years of experience since showed in her easy movements.

Otherwise, she looked like hell. The girl he’d spent a sweet week with nine years ago was long gone. A flash of memory brought her back. A bikini and tan lines.

So beautiful and vibrant—a dreamer of big dreams. That was partly what had drawn him to her, what kept her in his memories and what brought her back so vividly when he’d learned about Tyler.

DJ shook his head. Dozens of questions swirled around him in the night as he continued watching her.

Had he been the one who’d broken her dreams? If not, who had?

Lord, they’d been young. He shook his head. Too young to understand the consequences—and too damned stupid.

What had she thought when she’d found out she was pregnant? What would he have done if she had gotten in touch with him back then? He did a little calculating—he would’ve been smack in the middle of boot camp.

An alternate universe of marriage and diapers flashed in his mind. He shuddered. They’d have never made it. He’d have never made it, he amended. She had managed, he begrudgingly admitted, if Tyler was any indication.

He wondered yet again, why hadn’t she contacted him? He’d given her his mom’s address. He remembered the moment clearly, that last night...on the beach...just before they’d...

Frustrated, he shut out the past, reminding himself that she had managed to find the info when she’d wanted to dump Tyler.

His anger returned as he thought of his son. DJ forced himself to stay put, out here in the dark, until the urge to storm in and demand answers passed. He figured, from what Tyler had shared, that she’d probably be skittish. Scaring her half to death would not help matters.

Slowly, DJ headed across the street. His steps measured, his worn combat boots echoed loudly on the dirty pavement.

The glass door opened easily as he stepped inside the light. He timed his entrance for when Tammie went into the back. No one noticed him at first, then the other waitress sauntered over.

“Just one?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He smirked. She was a flirt. He knew it came with the military haircut and the assumed job, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d still be as interested once she saw the line of scars down his back. Pulling himself away from those thoughts, he nodded and followed her swaying gait to a booth toward the back.

Outside, he’d watched long enough to know they weren’t working a station system. They were taking turns. Tammie would be his server no matter where he sat. He thought for a minute that he wasn’t really being fair, surprising her at work like this. But then, dumping his kid on Wyatt’s doorstep wasn’t exactly fair, either. Hey, all’s fair in love and war. He just wasn’t sure which he was in right now.

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Soda?” Lindsey, according to the little brass bar pinned to her orange uniform, leaned close as she spread the laminated menu out on the scarred tabletop. A picture of strawberry-lemon shortcake covered half the page she’d opened it up to. “Something sweet?”

He nearly groaned at the overly obvious come-on.

“Coffee. Lots of cream.” He picked up the menu and closed it. He doubted he’d be here long enough for anything else.

Frowning, Lindsey straightened and sauntered away, throwing one final glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.

DJ settled in the cracked vinyl seat. From here, he could see everything inside as well as keep an eye on the street beyond the windows.

Considering the hour, the restaurant was busy with half the tables full. An elderly couple sat silently eating, barely looking at each other, much less conversing. At the far end, despite the late hour, a family sat, each of them staring at a phone screen. If he and his siblings had done that as kids, they’d have been texting each other the obnoxious kind of comments that would have earned them a smack from Mom. He smiled at that thought—not that they would have been allowed phones at the table.

Just then, the kitchen doors swung open and Tammie emerged, one of those huge brown trays laden with the family’s meal on her shoulder. He held his breath, hoping she didn’t see him until after she’d delivered the food.

He kept his gaze glued to her as she moved, noticing the familiar details he hadn’t been able to see from outside. She’d gained a little weight. Just a little. Baby weight from becoming a mom? He swallowed that question.

The blond hair he’d fondly remembered flying loose and carefree had been yanked into a ponytail, hanging limply down her back. Did it still feel as soft...and smell like roses...and the ocean?

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and the sad, orange uniform she wore had seen better days, but her smile was warm as she served. The dimple he remembered so vividly flashed in her right cheek, giving him faint hope that maybe the girl he remembered was still in there somewhere.

He remembered her wearing orange once before—a bikini that hid all the right stuff, and not much else. Shaking his head to dispel the memory, he focused on the here and now.

Without mishap, she distributed the plates and carted off the tray. She snagged the coffee carafe from the burner before heading toward him. She didn’t look up, focusing on pulling an order pad from her pocket.

DJ held his breath. Waiting.

Two feet away, Tammie finally saw him—and froze. She stared, her eyes growing wide. Somewhere in the distance glass shattered and the coffee carafe lay in a zillion pieces on the tile floor.

* * *

TAMMIE’S HEART POUNDED in her chest as she met DJ Hawkins’s cold stare. She recognized him immediately. The long blond hair she remembered all too vividly was gone, as she’d expected. But the face was the same—the same one he shared with Tyler.

Breathe, she reminded herself. Think. She’d known this could happen—that she’d be found. She’d run through every scenario a dozen times in her mind, but none of those scenarios had starred DJ. Not like this, anyway.

“Hello, Tammie.” His voice came out deep and gruff, cutting through her daze. “We need to talk.”

The serious tone of his voice sent fear shooting through her. How had he found her, and why? He was angry. That was obvious. She’d expected that, too, considering she hadn’t told him about Tyler. But why was he here now?

“Is Tyler okay?” Her fear turned to panic.

DJ frowned. “If you consider how much he misses his mother, and the fact that his dad, who he just met, left him to go find her, yeah, he’s okay. Miserable, but okay.”

Her heart hurt. She couldn’t tell DJ, or anyone, why she’d left Tyler. She didn’t dare share the details of the danger she’d put Tyler, and herself, in. A dose of humiliation and a lot of fear kept her quiet.

Reality interrupted as Lindsey wheeled the mop bucket out of the kitchen. Tammie knew the other waitress wasn’t coming out to help her. She was being nosy.

Tammie straightened her shoulders, shoring up her determination now that she knew Tyler was okay. “I’m...I’m working. It’s not break time yet.” Looking around, she knew she could avoid whatever he had to say with all the customers and her coworkers listening.

“I’ll wait.”

Why did those words scare the hell out of her? She trembled, then grabbed the mop handle as much to give herself an excuse to not talk to him as to clean.

“I’ll take a cup of fresh coffee, when you get a minute,” he drawled.

Of course, it took her twice as long to clean up the mess with him watching. At least the other diners had gone back to their meals and ignored them. Lindsey, however, was leaning over the counter, watching the scene with interest.

“One coffee. Coming up,” Tammie said automatically, moving with stilted, hesitant steps, like a sleepwalker on the verge of waking up. In the back room, she put the bucket away and paced the kitchen. What was she supposed to do now? She glanced at the back door. Only the old, battered screen door stood between her and the alley behind the diner.

She called herself every kind of stupid. She shouldn’t have stayed here in Austin. She’d known that, but the idea of leaving, really leaving Tyler behind, was more than she could bear—he was her world. So she’d stayed. Lot of good that did.

Every instinct told her to run now. Run fast and hard while DJ was occupied and not expecting it. Run and hope he’d only found her because Tyler had said something.

Tyler. She missed him so much. Closing her eyes, she pictured him as she’d last seen him. How much had he changed in the few months she’d been away? Curiosity and determination to not give in to her fears had Tammie grabbing the fresh coffee and heading back to DJ’s table. “I... Is...Tyler...settling in okay with you?”

“He’s fine.”

Her hand shook as she poured the coffee.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice sounded almost reassuring. He didn’t say any more but instead looked pointedly around the room. “We’ll talk when we’re alone.”

Alone. She gulped. She didn’t dare let him get her alone. He’d ask questions she couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer. “Can I get you anything else?” She forced herself to shift gears. Distant-waitress mode was safest. It was where she’d lived for months.

“No, that’ll do.” He looked up, his gaze hard. “For now.”

She shut off her thoughts and made her decision. Move, feet, move. She prayed she could get out of here before he caught up to her. Probably a stupid notion, but she had to try.

Tammie walked slowly toward the kitchen, returning the coffee carafe to the burner, and as nonchalantly as possible, she bent down and scooped up her battered backpack. She kept walking, right through the kitchen to the back door. She ran out into the night, not bothering even to think about where she was going. Just out of here. Away.

The light from the diner’s kitchen was all that illuminated the alley. And it lit only the first few feet. The shadows swallowed the rest.

She knew there were creepy crawlies and evil trash in the world, and probably half of them lived in this neighborhood, but she told herself she could handle all of them. What she couldn’t handle was being found. Not by DJ—and certainly not by the man who would follow. If DJ had found her, Dom would, too.

Her heart pounded and her soul dropped to her knees as she hurried through the alley, toward the street. Please don’t let him notice I’ve left. Not yet.

She was nearly to the light at the mouth of the alley when a shadowed figure stepped into her path, blocking her escape. Silhouetted in the streetlight’s glow, DJ looked dark and ominous. Once, he’d been a friend. He’d been her first lover. He’d been kind. But time had a way of changing everyone. She shivered, not sure who she was really facing.

“I won’t hurt you, Tammie,” he called to her, sounding a lot as though he was trying to cajole, not harm her. But she couldn’t trust him. She didn’t dare trust any man. Not ever again.

“I know,” she lied. She’d learned a lot of tricks in the past nine years. She kept walking slowly, purposefully, hoping to convince him she was headed toward him. She could just as easily be the one doing the cajoling, then slip past and run. Run as she’d never run before.

Thankfully her ugly waitress uniform included tennis shoes. Lightweight, worn tennis shoes. Escape was doable.

“Good. So where are you going, Tammie?” He remained where he was, his arms crossed over his massive chest, trying to look casual. And failing.

His features were stiff, what she could see in the slashes of light. His eyes glowed and she wondered if he was angry. She edged along the wall, facing him and tracking her progress by running her fingers on the ridge between the bricks. She tried to ignore the filth she knew darkened the once light-colored stone. She was nearly there.

“Talk about what?” She hoped to distract him from her progress.

The silence grew heavy and he waited all too patiently. It made her shiver. What did he have in mind?

Finally, he spoke. “Our son. Tyler.”

Her heart broke. She missed Tyler so much and it was almost too painful to think about him.

“He wants to know when you’re coming to get him.”

The knife twisted in her chest. She didn’t dare think about how long she’d been away from him. Her eyes stung. She couldn’t give in now, though. Too risky. She hardened her heart and shut off all emotion.

Her fingers met the corner brick. She breathed in, and after only an instant’s pause, turned the corner and ran like hell.

The rubber soles of her worn shoes slapping against the pavement were loud, too loud. He’d follow the sound. It couldn’t be helped. She had to outrun him.

Two blocks, just two short blocks. That was all she had to make, then she could duck into another alley and hide. No footfalls sounded behind her, but maybe her harsh breaths were drowning them out. The alley she’d been aiming for loomed ahead. Nearly there.

A motorcycle’s roar shattered the night. Glancing over her shoulder, Tammie nearly screamed. The streetlights illuminated DJ. The bike was huge and he looked right at home on its back. Anger wasn’t even close to what she saw on his face now that he was out of the shadows—it was much scarier.

The machine responded to his every command. She’d never outrun him now.

Still, she kept going, half expecting him to mow her over and knock her to the ground.

She didn’t expect the sound of squealing tires or the smell of burning rubber. And most certainly not the grind of metal on cement as the bike tipped. She yelped and froze as she watched him fall.

And then there was silence. Not the kind of silence that indicated she’d successfully escaped. No. This was the silence of impending doom.

DJ wasn’t under the bike, for which she hated to admit she was thankful. Instead of being splattered on the pavement, he’d managed to roll away from the machine and land a few feet away from her.

She stood there, staring. DJ cursed, his words blistering the air and her ears. He glared at her and rose to his feet. He was limping. Oh, God, she hadn’t meant for him to be hurt. Really, she hadn’t. But she had to get away.

She turned to run again, but before she could get far, his strong hand grabbed her arm and nearly gave her whiplash as he yanked her around. The rough brick wall cut into her back as DJ pushed her up against it. He’d been much kinder the last time he’d grabbed and imprisoned her. She fought. She was not giving in easily. Not this time. And never again.

She shot her foot forward, her shoe connecting with the hard steel of a shin. He didn’t even flinch. She mentally cursed. “Let me go.”

“Not a chance,” he growled, his face close to hers. Too close. “I have questions and I want answers.”

“Let me go.”

Silence hung thick over the night. The only thing she could hear was her lungs struggling to breathe, and her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He’d grabbed her without any effort, which just plain ticked her off. She tried to kick him again. His grip tightened.

“Do that again, and I won’t ever tell you a thing about Tyler.”

Dead silence filled the air. She wilted. He knew her Achilles’ heel...her son...their son.

“You going to run, or can I trust you?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence must have suggested she’d consider staying. His grip loosened and he leaned even closer. His breath brushed her cheek. The brick wall felt cool against her back, a contrast to DJ’s warmth washing over her.