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Warzone (The East Wind) (Volume 1)

By Amryn Cross

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Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Cade Blackwell still saw the war. Times like now, that seemed preferable to the eyes wide open, put on a smile approach to civilian life.
When he did open his eyes after a long pause—probably too long if he really thought about it—his old friend Tim Moore still sat in front of him at the outdoor café.
“It’s so good to see you,” Tim insisted for not the first time since they’d run into each other on the DC Mall. “Can’t believe it’s been, what, fifteen years? We’re getting old, man.”
Cade forced a tight smile then chugged the coffee he hadn’t wanted but felt compelled to order because Tim insisted on paying. When the empty paper cup began to shake in his right hand, he hastily returned it to the table. Maybe Tim wouldn’t notice.
“So what are you doing now? Working? Kids?” It seemed Tim wouldn’t take a hint. “I don’t see a ring so I guess you’re still a bachelor, huh? Or maybe divorced.”
Great observation. “Yeah, I haven’t really had much time for dating.” Or ridiculous coffee drinks with people he hadn’t seen since medical school. “Congrats on your family, though. I heard you were a doctor down at Georgetown, so that’s…great.”
Ugh. Could he sound any lamer? That bit of information had come courtesy of the Google searches Cade had performed on his former classmates in his search for a place to live. Dr. Tim Moore—married with three kids—had been one of his last hopes. At least life was still moving forward for other people. He wasn’t bitter. Not at all.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the chief of anesthesiology.” Tim chuckled and rubbed his index finger against the gray in his beard. “I teach students how to put people to sleep.”
He definitely knew how.
“You joined the army, right?” Tim took another slow sip of his coffee—not black like Cade had ordered, but some mocha sugary syrup thing. “I remember you walking around campus in your uniform with a parade of girls behind you.”
Of course that’s how he would remember it. Never mind they’d made plans to finish medical school together, work at the same hospital after Cade returned from his tour of duty. Cade had been in the ROTC program, put in the hours of PT and special courses to prepare himself in every way possible to live his dream as an army officer, a trauma surgeon.
He still had nightmares but no M.D. after his name to show for it.
“Yeah, I just recently got out. I’m back in DC for a while.” He found it easier to talk if he didn’t look directly at Tim. Over his shoulder was good. Lots of people watching in downtown DC.
“You got out? I thought you were a lifer?”
Cade worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated an answer. This was exactly why he didn’t like having social hour with old friends. He couldn’t answer this question without explaining his forced retirement, which he couldn’t explain without his injury, which he couldn’t explain without saying that yes, he had watched half his platoon die that day and had been unable to save most of the injured. That always shut people up, but not before he’d inhaled the memories of smoke-filled lungs, the hail of bullets, and the dampness of the cave where he’d awaited rescue.
He closed his eyes and saw it again.
This wasn’t normal.
“Cade? You okay?”
Obviously not, but they couldn’t sit there in silence forever. “Yeah, sorry. I, uh, was injured in an IED explosion in Afghanistan. Got sent home about three months ago and handed my retirement papers.”
“Retirement? You’re a lucky man. I’m still paying for med school.”
Yes, the moral of that story absolutely was that Cade was a lucky man. Never mind he’d almost died, and the only thing he knew how to do had been ripped from him. The fingers of his right hand, which he’d hidden beneath the table, dug into his thigh in an effort to keep from punching his former friend. Maybe he should just knock himself out.
Tim remained oblivious. “Weren’t you going to join the medical corps anyway? I thought those guys didn’t see much action. Just stitching up some bullet holes, right?”
Cade was saved an assault charge by a sharp cry and sudden movement over Tim’s left shoulder. A man darted from the small crowd at full speed with a small package in his hand. People pulled out their cell phones or pointed, but not a single person moved to stop him.
Instinct took over, and Cade’s legs had him half-way across the street at a sprint before his mind caught up with him. He’d just finished a three mile run around the Mall when he met Tim, but the stiffness in his joints wasn’t enough to slow him down. Eyes locked on his target, he adjusted his angle to put himself in optimum position to intercept the mugger.
The kid—he couldn’t have been over nineteen—who had been looking over his shoulder as he ran, came to an abrupt halt as he crashed into Cade. They both fell to the sidewalk, and Cade scolded himself for not setting his feet properly. The package was easy enough to rip away from the frightened teen, who then jumped up and disappeared into the crowd empty-handed.
The adrenaline rush barely registered on his radar and was completely gone by the time Cade got to his feet. In its tiny wake, it left the taste of dissatisfaction in his mouth. He examined the brown paper package. This wasn’t about him.
No one approached him as he tucked the package under his left arm and jogged the couple hundred feet to where Tim was now assisting the woman who’d been robbed. The ring of onlookers began to disperse, barely fazed by the mugging. So much for chivalry.
The woman seemed strangely subdued considering she had a nasty cut on her forearm, which was bleeding through the stack of napkins Tim had pressed to it. Other than that, nothing marked her as a victim. No tears, her chin tipped high and her expression almost bored as Tim readjusted her makeshift bandage.
“Cade, there you are.” Tim breathed an audible sigh of relief as Cade approached. Seemed like he was still as uncomfortable with conscious patients as ever. No wonder he’d become an anesthesiologist. “A-are you okay?”
Cade followed Tim’s eyes to see his right hand trembled violently. He barely even noticed the sensation anymore, but it hadn’t been that bad since after he woke up in the base hospital. He tried to clamp his fingers into a fist, but his grip was weak. Great. This was definitely not the time for an episode. Just keep it together long enough to make a clean exit.
“Yeah, it’s just, you know, a side effect of my injury.”
Tim eyed him with genuine concern. “Still, it wasn’t shaking so bad a few minutes ago. You should let me look at it.”
“I don’t—”
“Doctor’s orders. Besides, I’m taking 007 here to my office so I can stitch her up.” He glanced over his shoulder at the woman who returned his quip with a sullen glare, intensified by the light color of her eyes. “We had such a good streak going. No stitches in six months and then this.”
She lifted the napkins to examine the cut on her arm, then replaced them with a slight grimace. “Mostly white collar crimes in the last few months. You hardly need stitches for a paper cut.”
Though her fine features and ivory skin spoke of delicacy, this woman’s voice had a rich velvet smoothness. Nothing like the fine china her face brought to mind.
Cade found her pretty in a very striking sort of way, the sort that he didn’t know what to do with. Waves of raven black hair must have fallen from her ponytail during the attack, and they now framed her pale face and set off her unusual eyes. Unusual not only for their light gray-green color, but the sharpness with which they studied him.
“Well, you definitely need stitches for that,” Tim insisted. “C’mon, both of you. My car’s just around the way.”
Twenty minutes later, Cade found himself in a small room in the basement of MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, still holding the woman’s package and still wondering why he’d agreed to come along. He was fine, really. The shaking in his hand had calmed considerably to his usual more subtle tremor.
But what else was he going to do? Wasn’t like he had anything or anyone to go home to, and Tim had already seen his hand so there was no use hiding it. He’d wanted to reconnect with society, and God had presented him with an opportunity, though not one he particularly wanted.
The woman perched on the edge of a table and tossed the blood-soaked napkins down beside her. He took that opportunity to approach her while Tim gathered the supplies for stitches.
“I held on to this for you.” Cade set the small square box on the table beside her. Awkward silence bloomed in the space between them. Awkward on his part anyway. She just gave him a once-over then turned her attention to Tim.
Really? He’d just tackled a guy for her, and she couldn’t even look at him. He knew most people found him a little gruff, but some manners wouldn’t kill her. “Well, you could say thank you.”
“Yes, I could if you hadn’t just blown my bust of a smuggling ring,” she fired back without looking at him.
Tim rejoined them with a half smile in Cade’s direction and a knowing shake of his head.
“I’m sorry. What?” Cade tilted his head and stared at this strange creature in front of him.
She sighed as if she were put out with him and finally gave Cade her full attention. The intensity reminded him of staring into the sun. “Admittedly, I hadn’t counted on any heroes being present. I’ve watched that spot for weeks and no one even bats an eye when someone yells. Trust me, I’ve tried it. Nice tackle, though.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up before he could suppress the disbelieving smile. Who was this girl?
“She’s always like this,” Tim assured him as he placed his tools on the table and pulled on some gloves. After briefly examining the wound, he reached for a syringe.
“No, not the lidocaine. I told you that doesn’t work on me.” She pursed her lips slightly.
Tim shook his head. “It’s all you’re getting from me. So it’s this or nothing.”
A terse huff ruffled the hair around her face. “Nothing then. I can always use more data on the human body’s pain responses.”
Unbelievable. Cade allowed himself a quick glance around the room to check for hidden cameras. Surely someone was playing a joke on him. He’d given his fair share of stitches to soldiers without the benefit of lidocaine, but this girl didn’t look like a soldier. But Tim didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her behavior.
“So, we didn’t officially meet,” he began. After his first attempt to speak to her, it would probably be better to leave well enough alone. But some part of him couldn’t resist poking the cage. Besides, he didn’t want to watch Tim botch these stitches when he knew good and well he could do them better himself. Well, could have done before his injury. “I’m Cade Blackwell.”
“The name’s Alexandria Holst, and you may call me Alex. Not Allie, not Lexi, but Alex.” She spoke so quickly he had to strain to keep up. Like a sports car on a road course, she navigated the language with a precision and speed yet unmatched in his experience. “Pleased to meet you, Cade Blackwell.”
And for the breadth of a second, she did look pleased to meet him, though the flash of a smile was so quick he almost missed it.
“Nice to meet you, too, Alex. How do you know Tim?”
“He keeps me supplied in chemicals,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Or he used to. Now he’s pawned the job off on one of the pathology residents.”
“She means I delegated,” Tim said from his hunched position over her arm.
“Nope, I meant pawned.”
“Right.” Tim tied off the thread and cut it close to her skin before covering his handiwork with a bandage. There would be a scar, Cade was sure of it. “There, good as new. You didn’t even flinch.”
Cade had forgotten she’d opted out of the anesthetic. Impressive.
“Of course not.” She hopped off the table and smoothed her shirt.
He expected her to make a quick exit, but Alex shoved the package in her jacket pocket and made a show of examining the shelf full of specimen jars along the opposite wall, clearly in no hurry to leave.
“How’s your hand?” Unfortunately Tim hadn’t forgotten about his promise to look Cade over. “You must’ve had a pretty nasty fall.”
“Not the fall,” Alex singsonged from across the small room, her back still to both of them. “Obviously the head injury.”
Cade froze, which only made the trembling of his right hand in his pocket that much more obvious. How could she know about that?
“Was it Afghanistan? I’ll bet it was Afghanistan.” She whirled to face him, just the hint of a smirk on her pretty face. “Just recently back, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he practically whispered before clearing his throat. What use was there in denying it? “Three months. How did you know?”
Alex smiled, but not the sort that seemed real. She walked a circle around him as she talked, eyes traveling up and down. “How do I know you’re an army officer—likely medical—recently returned from Afghanistan? And that you suffered an injury which diminished your peripheral vision and gave you an intermittent tremor in your right hand?”
He blinked. Once, twice, but said nothing. Forming words seemed impossible.
“I see it. Your posture gives you away as military immediately, as well as your hair which is currently growing out of the close cropped style. Your hands and face are tan, but your forearms are lighter suggesting you’ve been in the sun but also fully covered. Your hand, obviously is shaking slightly, and you would’ve never been allowed to carry a gun with a tremor like that, therefore it’s a recent development. You’re still in immaculate shape, so you haven’t been relegated to a desk. That suggests you’re retired. The clench in your jaw just now suggests you don’t like it. Your peripheral vision on your right side is poor, which I know because as I walked around you, you shifted slightly in that direction to get a better look at me, while when I was on your left, you remained perfectly still. And I say medical corps because you think Tim did a poor job on my stitches—quite correct on that one, but I don’t care about a scar.”
And there it was. All out in the open for everyone to see. It didn’t feel like he’d imagined it would. His heart tattooed the familiar beat of excitement against his chest as he refused to look away from her confident gaze.
“Amazing.” He finally breathed out the word bouncing around his brain. For a brief moment, she seemed startled with widened eyes, though recovered quickly.
For the first time in three months, he wasn’t thinking about his injury, about his therapy sessions, or about the nightmares. His brain simply couldn’t process anything beyond how incredible her assessment of him was. Like she’d seen right past the “normal” face he’d tried to put on. Even if he wanted to be angry, he couldn’t.
“I probably should’ve warned you about her.” Tim was the only one who seemed slightly uncomfortable. He looked between Cade and Alex. “She’s done that to everybody here at one time or another. Hard to keep secrets around her.”
Hard to lie, he probably meant. There was something refreshing about everything stripped bare. No pretending. Not everyone would like that.
“Well, I have to be going,” Alex announced with a quick glance around the room. “Tim, I hope we don’t see each other again for a while.”
Cade swallowed the snicker that bubbled up in his throat. Rude but amusing. “I’ll walk out with you,” he offered. “Tim, it was nice to see you again. “
“You too, buddy.” He clapped Cade on the back and held out his hand for a shake. “See you around.”
He had to jog to catch up with Alex down the basement hallway. She slowed slightly when he fell into step beside her, and that alone struck him as odd. First impressions being what they were, she’d seemed annoyed with him at best. Probably hadn’t expected him to have the guts to force his presence on her, yet, she’d made a tiny concession to allow it.
“Were you really trying to take down a smuggling ring?” he asked. It sounded preposterous when she first mentioned it, but after that display, he was prepared to believe almost anything about her.
“Yes.” Her tone remained as expressionless as her face when she looked over to study him. “I’d been working on it for several months. There was a GPS tracker in that box, which would have tracked the route the boy took to bring it back to his employer. Lots of reconnaissance went into that planning, all for you to ruin it.”
“You shouldn’t have called for help if you didn’t want it,” he pointed out as they pushed through an exit door and onto a busy sidewalk.
“Right. Because it’s not suspicious if someone mugs you and you just stand there and watch.” Hands in her pockets, she looked left, right, anywhere but directly at him. “No, it had to look convincing.”
“It was definitely convincing.”
“Then at least something went right, but it hardly makes up for losing that lead.”
Was she hinting that she wanted him to make it up to her? Like a date? Nothing she’d said or done so far had given him that impression, but clearly her words were meant to evoke a response.
“You’re staying at the transitional housing at the VA, aren’t you?” Her eyes squinted against the sun to finally find his.
“Do I want to ask how you knew that?”
“You’re a veteran recently returned from the war with an injury. A head injury at that. You’ve only recently been released from inpatient therapy so that’s not enough time to find other living arrangements. Leaving the city isn’t appealing to you, but there’s no way you can afford a place to yourself on your army pension. I imagine you’re looking for a roommate.”
“That’s amazing.” Apparently that’s the only word his brain could wrap itself around when she spoke. “I hadn’t told anyone.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it quickly, leaving him insatiably curious what had almost passed her lips. Another quick scan of their surroundings, then her eyes returned to him. “I know a place in Stanton Park. A nice place in the middle of everything. It’s pricy, but I know the landlady who lives in the downstairs apartment so she’ll give me a good price. Still, it would be much more affordable with a roommate.”
He waited for the question, but it never came. Just assumed. “Sorry, did you just ask me to live with you?” She was crazy. “We don’t even know each other.”
“I’m sure if you give me just a minute I can recite a few more details of your life history if that’s what you’re interested in. Otherwise, just consider this me collecting my favor for your involvement with the smugglers.”
“I didn’t offer to do you a favor.”
“Well, you should have. I’ve been told that’s good manners.” She somehow managed to ooze enough charm that he forgot why it sounded so absurd. “Stanton Park area. Constitution Avenue and 10th tomorrow at one. If you don’t like it, you’re free to walk away.” And then, with no further goodbye, she did just that.
Cade laughed and rubbed the back of his neck as people pushed by him on the sidewalk. Even after more than a decade in the military, Alex Holst may have been the strangest thing to have ever happened to him. Unfortunately, walking away had never been his strong suit.

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