Chapter 6

A s soon as they pulled into the parking lot of the hamburger joint, Brittany hopped out. She waited for Baron to join her, and the two walked into the small café together. She knew that would cause some comments, but she really didn't give a crap right now. If people wanted to gossip about them, well, they could. She was too hungry, too tired, and too damn fed up to worry about it. She headed to her favorite table in the far back.

Baron nodded approvingly.

"Oh, wait, hang on a minute," she began. "Did I do something instinctively right?" He just grinned at her. "I did just do something, right?"

He kept grinning at her for a few moments. "Let's just say that, given the circumstances, I would have chosen the same place to sit."

Her eyebrows shot up, as she slid closer to the window, where she could look out. "Are we expecting trouble?" she asked in a whisper.

"No, I'm never expecting trouble, but that doesn't mean trouble isn't right around the corner." She frowned at him, and he just smiled. "And, no, I'm not the person who's always looking for trouble."

"No, maybe not," she conceded, "but I have a hunch it has a way of finding you." His mouth burst into a big grin at that, something she wanted to bring on more and more. "You should do that more often," she shared abruptly.

He stared at her. "Do what?"

She shrugged, realizing it would sound foolish. "Smile."

His grin grew bigger, spreading across his face. "I do tend to smile a lot, you know. It's just… I haven't had a whole lot to smile about lately."

She winced, feeling completely insensitive. "Once again, I forgot. I am sorry."

"Don't ever be sorry for being honest," he stated, shaking his head. "You're right.… I probably should smile more. Yet, after recovering from my accident and slowly getting back on my feet again, there has been less to smile about than usual."

"I went through something like that with my grandma. She's had one hell of a scare after another, and now with losing her house…" She stared gloomily out the window, her good mood instantly gone.

"The problem isn't your grandmother, you know," he pointed out. "The problem is you. You'll feel guilty if you don't bring her home, and yet you don't even know if that's what she wants."

She nodded. "I know that independence is big for her. I really do understand that. Giving up her car was a big deal, but at least she had me or Camille to drive her around. I wouldn't want to give up my car either. Now she may have to give up living alone. The thing is, I just don't know how she can have that again, given the state of her health and the damage to her property now."

"I really think you're putting too much on your plate right now," he suggested. "So let's figure out where this is all going in the short term, and then we'll know more."

She smiled at him and then at the waitress, who came over and handed out menus. Brittany already knew exactly what she wanted. "I'll get a double cheeseburger with a large order of fries and a milkshake," she ordered quickly.

The waitress wrote it down, then turned to look at Baron. He just dipped his head. "What she said."

The waitress grinned, grabbed the menus, and asked if they wanted coffee. He shook his head. "No thanks. I'm good."

She looked over at Brittany, "What about you, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "No, just the milkshake. We'll have that first, please."

The waitress gave her a look and then disappeared.

Baron turned his attention to Brittany. She was fiddling with her hair. "Sounds like you have a bit of history here too."

"Yeah," she replied, looking back to where the waitress headed. "She knew me when I wasn't eating, as the saying goes."

"She should be happy that you are eating now."

"She also knows that I slide at times," she admitted.

"When was the last time that happened?"

"Years ago, but, once you slide, everybody keeps a wary eye on you, as if you'll collapse."

"And did you collapse on her?"

She shook her head. "No, I was at a baseball game with some friends, and I hadn't eaten all day. Mind you, it wasn't deliberate, but I was forgetful," she noted, with a roll of her eyes. "Nobody let me forget after that."

"Of course not," he agreed, "but think of it this way,… at least they're looking out for you."

"That was the theory I was working on," she shared, "but it was still hard because it felt to me that I had failed everybody all over again."

"You didn't fail anybody," he pointed out, "and definitely not yourself, so you can knock that theory right out the window."

She burst out laughing, smiling as she turned to him. "You're good for me."

"Yes, I am," he concurred, with that million-watt smile, and it was infectious. "Anything you need to do to make yourself feel good, you should do it. Everything else be damned."

"I do feel good, and I've come a hell of a long way," she declared. "I'm just very aware that my history here gives a bit of edginess to all my relationships because I always feel as if I'm under a microscope, with people always watching me."

"Well, you're eating, so she should be happy. That should be it."

She nodded. "You would think so, but I don't know. I'm probably just supersensitive."

He didn't say anything but just watched her.

When the milkshakes came, she gave him a big fat smile. "If you don't want yours, I'll drink it too."

He chuckled. "We'll see about that, but I haven't eaten all day either."

"Ooh, watch out," she teased. "If they find out you haven't eaten, they'll think you have an eating disorder."

He shook his head. "Not likely. In the military, you learn to eat when you can, and you ensure that you do eat because you don't know what's coming."

"That's got to be tough at times."

"You get used to it. After being injured, I found that I needed to keep up my strength at all times so I could get through rehab, going through all the exercises, then getting rest to rebuild muscles," he explained. "I focused on high protein and did my utmost to get the calories in that I needed. I was never hungry because I was always eating so much, and, if anything, people were saying that I ate too much and would get fat."

"I can't imagine you fat," she replied, as she studied him.

"Just as I can't imagine you on the edge of dying from an eating disorder."

"I don't know if it was that bad," she said, with a frown, as she stared out the window again. "You look back on your teenage years, and it's a blur."

"You know what I think?"

"Please enlighten me," she replied, with mischief in her gaze.

"I think I do remember you," he shared, that smile lighting up his face.

She nodded. "As soon as I mention the eating disorder, everybody knows who I am."

He pondered that, frowning. "Aren't you… weren't you really good at artwork?"

She smiled at him and then nodded. "You do remember me."

"Yeah, I do." He grinned. "I remember thinking that you were damn skinny, and somebody needed to do something about that, but, being a kid, it's not as if any of us knew what to do."

"Right, and being a kid myself, I didn't know what to do either," she added, with a smile. "But you're right. I was very much into my art, and it was a huge plus in my life back then. It was a blessing when it came to recovering, to pull me back out of the eating disorder. My artwork is still my solace, even now."

"Do you still find time?"

"I do, though not as much as I would like to, since I have to work to put food on the table."

"Agreed, but, if you continue to maintain your artwork, maybe something else is out there for you as well."

"There is," she agreed. "I just have to decide how much I'm willing to put into it." At his inquisitive look, she shrugged. "I have a showing coming up in about six months," she whispered, dipping her head, "but, if I think about it, which I do a lot, I get completely queasy and want to call it off."

"Don't do that," he cried out. "If somebody saw enough talent in you for a show, then you need to do the best you can to honor that."

She shook her head. "You're starting to sound like a life coach."

"Maybe that's because I have had a lot of life coaching. You don't come back from war—broken, with a lot of health issues— and snap back, not without talking to people," he shared. "That was how I got back on my feet."

She sipped at her milkshake, as she considered how hard that would have been for Baron. "I think that nobody really sees us as we should see ourselves," she offered.

He nodded. "My brother helped me quite a bit. He just kept living every day, as if it were any other day," he shared, with a smile, "never worrying about whether it would be his last one. Whereas, every time I got out of bed after being injured, it was like this major trauma, and I wasn't sure whether I would ever make it back to the bed or not. Yet he always had a laugh for me, always had a smile, always had encouraging words, basically saying, Suck it up, buttercup, and get on with it . Not in those exact words, but that's what he meant."

She burst out laughing. "That doesn't sound terribly encouraging."

"Well, you have to understand our relationship," he added. He went quiet for a moment. "Now I just have my ma."

"Is that good?"

He nodded. "It's good, but it could be better. Like every relationship, I suppose. She's absolutely devastated about losing Brad, which is normal. I don't quite have the same relationship that she had with Brad, so I'm sure a part of her wishes that I had gone instead."

Brittany frowned at him, then leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "I wouldn't even go down that pathway. You can't change the past, but the two of you can now have the relationship that you didn't have before."

He gripped her hand and nodded carefully. "We will, and I hope we will come out of it stronger," he said. "I was gone so much, and they developed a closer relationship. I didn't have that with her, and I certainly didn't have that kind of connection with him, and now he's gone. I didn't get the chance to build that back up again," he shared, "so it's one of those contemplative life choices things."

"That's good, and it's also bad," she noted. "Been there, done that, and I can tell you, Baron, it really sucks. When you're on the wrong side of it, it can suck the joy out of everything. But happily you have the time to start anew."

He burst out laughing at the way she had said it, amazed at how easy it was to talk to her. "Won't argue there," he replied. "I mean, definitely some are good times, and some are rougher times, but I'm back in the game, and I'll try to finish what my brother started."

"Well, I hope you find the War Dog."

The waitress interrupted a few minutes later, as she brought over their plates. She looked down at Baron and said, "Enjoy." She then cast a look at Brittany, as if to say, Ensure you eat , and it didn't go unnoticed by Baron.

After the waitress left, he raised his eyebrows and whispered to Brittany, "I can see how that would get old very quickly."

"Exactly." She gave a sigh. "On the other hand, I know where she's coming from, and that makes it all good."

"Agreed, but nobody likes to be nagged all the time."

"Nobody likes to be nagged at all," she corrected. "No all the time about it. Nobody likes to be nagged, plain and simple."

"Agreed," he admitted. "I'm no different in that respect. An awful lot of things we all try to avoid doing because it causes such a reaction in other people. Yet, in this case, you're doing everything you need to do, and you should be proud of yourself."

She waved her fork at him. "You don't need to build me up like that. I'm fine, you know."

"Good," he replied, as he smiled at her. "Then I don't have to worry about you either because I really don't want to sit here and have to nag you into eating."

She rolled her eyes. "As I told you, that was over years ago."

"I'm really glad to hear that."

"So, nowadays I eat regularly," she stated, "and half the time I'm trying to force my grandma to eat, which is like a role reversal. And let me tell you how it's no fun."

He smiled at that. "Then maybe that's a good thing. It helps you to understand why you were doing what you were doing, and giving her a better chance of understanding why you were doing what you were doing too."

"I don't think she cares," she declared bluntly. "My grandma is an interesting person, but, at this stage of her life, she is only willing to look at what she wants to look at."

"I think that covers everybody," he noted.

When the bell jingled, indicating somebody else coming through the front door a few minutes later, she didn't bother looking up, until she realized a stillness had come over Baron. She leaned forward. "Okay, so now you need to tell me what is wrong."

He glanced at her and asked discreetly, "Do you know the people who just walked in?"

She looked over at them and shook her head. "No. Should I?"

He shrugged. "They look familiar."

"If you say so," she muttered, "but I don't know them."

"I think they were the men at the Gorman house."

She slowly put down her fork, as she studied the two men. "You mean, the ones who just shot at us?" she asked, her tone turning hard.

He gave her a ghost of a smile and then nodded. "That really upset you, didn't it?"

Her eyebrows shot up, and she nodded fiercely. "Well, yeah. And it should upset you too."

"I'm a little more used to it than you," he pointed out, with an easy laughter in his tone, "but I can understand, if you're not used to being shot at, it's a bit of a shock. You never forget the first time someone takes a potshot at you."

She shook her head. "I certainly hope that is something I never get used to."

"Me too," he agreed, smiling. "So, the answer is still no. You don't know them, right?"

"No, I don't, but you've sure got me thinking about it."

"Don't think too hard, and definitely don't make any sudden movements."

She frowned at him and asked curiously, "You don't think they're dangerous here, do you?"

"I don't know because I don't know what they're up to," he shared, "so take it easy. We're here to eat, so keep at it."

She stared down at the plateful of food she'd been anticipating, but it suddenly looked more like sawdust to her.

He shook his head. "Nope, you need to eat, and that will help keep our cover, assuming they don't know who we are. Just act normal, and all will be well."

"I am so not feeling well right now," she shared, staring at him. "You make it sound as if we're in for a cloak-and-dagger evening."

He nodded. "That we are."

Baron watched the two men grab a table at the far side of the room, their backs to the wall, and kept watching them as they began to study the other people in the room. He was waiting to gauge the reaction when it was their turn to be scrutinized, and he wasn't disappointed.

As soon as the one man's gaze landed on him, he made brief eye contact and then deliberately let his gaze bounce away, as if he didn't recognize Baron. Yet the other man's response was to lean forward and talk to his partner in a hurried whisper. The two men glanced around, as if they were trying to see if anybody else at the place was concerned.

"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's always better to let the enemy know where you are."

"No," she countered in a gasp, "it's definitely better if we don't let them know where we are."

He smiled. "But, if I don't tell them where we are, we won't find out where they are, so we can go capture them."

She blinked, as she tried to sort through the meandering path he had just proposed. "Who said we're trying to capture them?" she asked with difficulty. "I would much rather just go home and not get involved in any of this mess."

"You can absolutely do that," he replied. "In fact, I would highly recommend it."

She shook her head, glaring at him. "I'm not leaving you to face them alone."

"Face who?" he asked, giving her a bland smile. "I mean, they don't recognize us, remember?"

"And yet," she began, then fell silent, thinking again how this had become a bad habit for her. The way this evening was going, it was not something she would get rid of soon.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Were you trying to say something?"

"It doesn't matter whether I was or not," she declared, irritated now, "because you won't listen anyway, will you?"

There was almost a twinkle in her gaze, as if she understood what was going on, yet was hard-pressed to fight it or to even argue it, yet was outraged by it. He chuckled. "You're doing really well, you know."

"I don't feel like I'm doing really well. In fact, I feel like I suck at this."

"There is nothing to suck at," he stated. "This is just us out for dinner, seeing who and what else is going on around us. Nothing more to do here. We can't be certain that they know who we are."

"Yeah, you say that," she muttered, looking down at her plate, "but it seems to me that you already know the answer to that question."

When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out, looked down, and nodded.

"What's that for?"

"You remember the guy I had you send the license plate to?" He motioned at the food in front of her. "Why aren't you eating? You need to eat."

She glared at him, but he just smiled, picked up his burger, and dove in. It didn't take him very long to polish it off. She had to admit that watching him, calm and cool, was very reassuring on its own. She managed to eat her burger, finishing just a little after him.

He smiled. "You did pretty good justice to that."

"I've always have been able to do that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I would eat, and then I would go exercise, not stopping until I had canceled it out."

He nodded. "That's one way a lot of people control their weight, but taken too far…"

She smiled and nodded. "I was the queen of taking things too far," she admitted, with a groan. "However, I am much better now."

"Good. Let's get the bill, and we'll see what the two guys do."

At that, she winced. "Are we expecting trouble?"

"I'm never expecting trouble, but I'm always prepared for it," he replied, with a bright smile. He caught the attention of the waitress, and she brought the bill for them.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"No, we're good," he replied, smiling. He paid the bill, making sure he got to it before Brittany could.

She stared at him, giving him a pointed look. "I would have been happy to pay for my meal."

He shrugged. "You can buy next time."

She shook her head. "Cheeky. Very cheeky."

He smiled. "Expedient."

"Right," she said, with an eye roll. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"It wasn't expected to make you feel anything," he explained, "but I do expect to get you to move."

"Got it," she muttered, "and this is me, moving." As they got outside, she looked back at him. "Are you still worried about them?"

"Not so much worried as interested in them."

"What did that text say? You never did tell me what it was."

"Confirmation on the license plate."

"And?"

He looked at her and shrugged. "The vehicle was stolen."

"Well, good God." She stopped in her tracks.

He nudged her forward. "Get in."

"But it's stolen."

"Yeah, it is, so Badger's contacting the local police."

"And we aren't?"

"Hell no, we aren't," he replied. "We are heading to do something else right now, and that means getting you home, where it's safe and sound." She frowned, and he picked up on that right away. He shook his head at her, "Nope, no frowns."

"Yeah, and what if I like frowning?" she muttered.

He burst out laughing at that. "You do like frowning—and getting in trouble. Yet we have your grandmother and other people here to consider. I don't know what these guys are up to, but there is a limit to how much of this game we can play, without getting the local cops involved."

"I don't want to play any games," she grumbled, "and, if they have a stolen vehicle, then they should have been picked up already. Those guys, the cops who were out there, should have snagged them earlier."

"That's a good point, so just think about that for a second and answer me this question. Why didn't they?" He nudged her into his vehicle, slamming the door behind her and making sure that she would buckle up too.

He walked around slowly to his side, glancing into the restaurant to see if the two men were still there. He frowned when he realized they were exiting the café. Hopping into the driver's side, he locked the door and started the engine. She looked at him, picking up his obvious unease.

"You really don't like them, do you?"

"Nope, I sure don't," he stated calmly, "but that doesn't mean I'll run."

"You do know that running isn't a sign of cowardice."

"No,… it sure isn't, but there is a time to run and a time not to run," he said, "and right now is a good time not to run."

"I don't know about that. It seems to be a great time," she muttered. She watched as the men went to their vehicle and hopped in. "Are you expecting them to take off?"

"Yes and no," he replied, looking at the two men discreetly, "I suspect they'll watch us, but I don't want them to follow us to your place."

She froze, gasping as she looked over at him. "Now I didn't need that scenario in my head."

He shrugged. "I didn't think you did, but I'm not one to pussyfoot around if I see a potential problem."

She stared at him, as he slowly pulled out of the parking lot. "Are they behind us?"

"Yeah, they sure are," he said, with another glance into the rearview mirror.

"Do you think I should be texting your friend something?"

"I already did," he shared, with a smile, "but thanks for the offer. Yes, it is definitely something we need to keep an eye on."

" Great ," she muttered. They headed back to her place, and she was jittery as hell. "If you're thinking that they'll be a problem, I don't really want you to drop me off."

"That's one of the reasons we're going in this direction," he explained, still keeping an eye behind him. "I want to see if they keep following us. If they take off on their own and don't give a crap, that would be a whole lot better," he added, with a smile in her direction.

"But you're not expecting them to, are you?"

"I am not sure what I'm expecting," he admitted, "but I would also like to know where those two cops are."

She sucked in her breath, as she thought about the implications. "Do you think the gunmen hurt them?"

"It's possible, in which case these two gunmen just escalated whatever they had going on here. They won't get away with attacking two cops, and there will be hell to pay. Plus that attracts a lot of attention."

She sank down a little bit into the seat.

He glanced over at her, chuckling. "Are you trying to hide from bullets?" he asked.

She winced. "More like I'm trying to hide from the thought of bullets."

"Good idea," he muttered. "I'll do a little bit of roundabout driving here, okay?"

"Oh, please, you do you," she suggested. "I sure don't want two trigger-happy gunmen at my place or to find out where I live."

"Nope, I understand, and, for that consideration alone, I'm hoping it's also possible…"

"What's possible?" she asked, leaning forward to peer into his face. "What is it you're not telling me?"

"I don't want to start something or to even suggest something that could be wrong," he began, "but the other possibility is that they're involved too."

"The cops? No, no, no," she muttered, shaking her head. "We do not want that to be a possibility."

He smiled. "No, we sure don't," he agreed, as he glanced at her, "but that doesn't mean it isn't a possibility."

"They knew Brad though, both of you… right?" she added.

He nodded. "A lot of people around these parts knew him, me less so. Yet that doesn't change anything about who and what these two gunmen are doing up around here. I do feel that I need to go back and ensure the cops are okay."

"Well, in that case," she stated, "you need somebody to go with you."

"Not you," he countered. When she glared at him, he shook his head. "You've had enough of this for the night."

"Maybe," she argued, "but so have you. You've got to be tired, and I know your leg is sore." He looked at her. "You're limping. You're trying not to, but you are."

He shrugged. "Sometimes I have to. The prosthetic can handle things up to a certain point."

"Well, right now is one of the times when it clearly is a bit much." He pulled off to the side of the road.

"Why are you stopping? They'll catch up to us soon. We are sitting ducks here." When he didn't respond, she glared at him. "You are going off to check the Gorman place for those two cops, aren't you? You know you shouldn't go alone."

"I'm fine," he bit off.

She nodded. "Yeah, you're as fine as I am."

He stared at her in astonishment, and then he laughed. "This is the work I do," he told her. "As much as you don't want to hear this, and please don't take it personally, but you'll hold me back."

Her shoulders slumped, as she recognized the truth of his words. "That's not fair," she muttered.

He smiled. "It's nice to know you care, and I appreciate that very much, but—"

"I get it, but you still shouldn't be going out there alone."

"Maybe, but nobody else is trained like I am to do this."

"What is it you're planning on doing?" she asked, looking at him closely.

"First, I'll drop you off, and then I'll head back to ensure there aren't any lost or injured cops down there."

"And yet there shouldn't be any lost cops," she pointed out.

"Right, but I need to confirm that."

She frowned at that. "Do you really think these guys did something to them?"

"I don't know," he admitted, shrugging. He studied the area around them, waiting in the darkness. He glanced over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I am, but I just wish things had turned out differently."