Take Me Home: Book 4 The Wakefield Romance Series Read online

  “Alright, Baby. I’ll be seein’ you,” I can tell he’s smiling when he says our normal goodbye and the smile that finds my lips is a naughty little one, thinking about the way he’d kiss me on the lips and cheek if we were together.

  “I’ll be seein’ you,” I answer, repeating the ‘love you’ he whispers right before hanging up.

  Looking out into the snow covered trees, taking note of the silent attitude of nature today, I sigh heavily. At least I know that everyone is alright, that makes me feel a lot better. The only dilemma now is how do I tell Ellie that Bobby is okay, along with Jack; and that they are coming home with my husband sometime before Christmas?

  It will call for a good bottle of wine, that’s for sure. I’m just hoping her tears, that I know will come, will be happy ones from this day forward.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  Bobby

  December 20, 2013

  Norfolk

  “For the last time,” I sigh, leaning back in the very uncomfortable aluminum chair, perching it up on its back two legs, “I didn’t know a damn thing about their plans. I didn’t know a damn thing about the ambush, and, no, I don’t have any connection, or desire to connect, with Ansar al Din.” I had been intimidated for the first couple of minutes, being in the NCIS interrogation room with its piss yellow walls and two way mirror, no doubt hiding the Director and maybe a few other government high-ups, but now I’m just pissed.

  They’ve asked the same damn questions over and over, and I’m just ready to get the fuck out of here and take a damn shower. Is that too much to ask for? A shower after being held here for almost twelve hours, that’s all I want.

  The agent, Agent Howard, smiles at me and leans back, his suit jacket buckling at the gut before he unbuttons it. He shuffles the papers in front of him for the millionth time and I give up, huffing out a frustrated breath and slamming the front two legs of my chair down as I lean forward. Placing my elbows on the table, bringing my hands together in front of me and tapping my fingers together, I don’t stop staring at him until he looks at me.

  “We know you’re not connected, Mr. Timmons, but you know… Procedure.” He laughs and I copy it, mockingly, crossing my arms over my chest and stretching my legs out so that my prosthetic hits him in the shin. He shifts, looking under the table, and I know I’ve made him uncomfortable. He must have never served; he’s probably just a law enforcement guy. “I just have to wait for word that it’s okay to let you go.”

  I hear three rapid knocks on the two way glass and I smile at him, throwing my hands behind my head and stretching back. “Guess that’s your ‘word’.” I laugh a little and he shakes his head. He gets up, slower than needed, taking his time to button his jacket before opening the door to the hallway.

  “You’re free to go, Mr. Timmons.” He gives me a sarcastic smile as I stand, push my chair in, and slide past him. Stopping in the doorway, I look both ways, spotting Jack just down to my right exiting another room and he flips me off with a smile, waving me to come to him. Turning to Agent Howard, I pat him on the chest, fixing the badge on his pocket that has been upside down this entire time.

  “You should prolly get a better trainer, bud.” I wink at him as his expression turns from pompous to pissed off. I start to jog off, then back pedal, seeing him looking down at himself. “Or a better tailor, either one!” I shout and laugh, catching up with Jack three quarters of the way down the hallway.

  “Shouldn’t piss off the feds, Bobby,” he chides me as we enter the bustling foyer of the NCIS world. Phones are ringing, people are talking, and I don’t know how Chad does it. Give me the silent and deadly jungle to this any day, that’s for damn sure. Jack elbows me, pulling my attention back to him and I weave through the bodies following him to the elevator. “What did Payne say to us? Where are we meeting him?”

  “He said at the diner down the street because his floor is top secret.” Jack nods as the doors slides shut, taking us down to the parking garage. Hitting the chilly air as we step out, I pull on the hat and jacket I’ve kept with me, zipping it all the way up as my breath steams around me. I see Jack pull his on as well, arching his back and shivering and I laugh at him. “Not used to the cold yet?” I ask him as we hurry down the sidewalk.

  “No, asshole. I haven’t been back in the states in almost three years.” He pulls the collar of his jacket up as he practically jogs to meet up with me. “I’ve been in the jungles and deserts, hell, you know.” I just nod, imaging some of the places he’s been as both a Marine and a gun for hire. Then I stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk not ten feet from the front door of the little dinner, just watching Jack as he grabs the handle.

  He hasn’t seen his sister in what, four or five years? No other family, no wife, no kids. What kind of lonely this guy must be. And I thought I had it bad?

  “You comin’, asshole?” His snide remark breaks my daydreaming and I look from the cement up into his grey eyes and give him a wicked smile. The look he gives me tells me he knows there is something churning inside this head of mine, but he waits until we sit in our booth to open his mouth. “What the hell is that stupid look on your face for?”

  “You are gonna love Wakefield,” I say, leaning forward on my elbows as he eyes the menu. “I don’t know if you remember much from when you were little, but it’s great. I know all the guys will like your smartass attitude, especially Garth Cobb.”

  He gives me a sidelong look, over the top of the laminated menu, then smiles, setting it down. “All I know, brother,” he pauses, winking and waving to the waitress so that she comes over. He leans closer to me, locking me down with his stare. “All I know is that you better make right with my sister, whether you two are together or not, because if you don’t…” In the blink of an eye Jack grabs his fork and slams it down on the table, right between my fingers, and leaves it there as the busty blonde waitress comes up to our table, popping her gum.

  Alright, alright, point taken. Set my shit right, got it. Picking my hand up off the table, slowly, I pull the fork from the cheap wood and order a coffee and eggs, with bacon and toast. The girl lingers longer on Jack, flirting shamelessly with him and as she struts away he watches her ass sway back and forth, looking back to me and giving me one of those, “Ehh, it’s okay,” looks.

  “Besides, whoever said I’m gonna stay in Wakefield?” He raises his eyebrow at me as he takes a sip of the piping hot and smelling burnt coffee, and I just shrug.

  “It’s a place that jus’ feels good comin’ home to,” I answer and see him nod his head slightly from the corner of my eye.

  It’s the truth. There is something about the little town that is calming, for the most part. When there isn’t drama going down, which you’ll get anywhere you live, Wakefield is a nice little place to call home. I’m silently praying and hoping that it’ll be my home, with Ellie beside me, in the not too far off future. Chad has been working with me to buy that old house down the street from him. The same one where we cornered that asshole Walden staking out Ellie’s running route in. Old man Pullman had passed away a couple of months ago and the house has sat empty since, his two kids not knowing what to do with it. So, when we had touched down on United States soil, I had Chad call and put in an offer under my name and now I’m just waiting.

  “Hey chumps,” Reno’s voice breaks the silence that has fallen between me and Jack, and he slides in opposite me as Chad slips in beside me. “Been waitin’ long?”

  “No, Man.” Jack smiles, shaking both of their hands with his death grip we’ve become accustom to. “We didn’t know what you pusses would want to eat so we didn’t order you anythin’.”

  “That’s good, ‘cuz I don’t want to have a heart attack.” Chad smiles, waving to the waitress and she jots something down on her pad. “Charlene knows what we get. We are somewhat creatures of habit when it comes to our lunch time away from the office.”

  “Where did Chief go? When did this ol’ man take his place?” I try to dodge the elb
ow coming my way, but it lands in my ribs just before his arm circles my head, pulling me out of the booth and into a headlock. I’ve missed the camaraderie with these guys too much and I tap out on Chad’s shoulder.

  He’s laughing when he says, “Yeah and this ol’ man can still kick your ass,” before he pushes me back to the bench. I throw my hands up in surrender, laughing along with the other two as we take our seat once more and fall into normal, everyday conversation. Our food comes and we’re lost in conversation when outside on the sidewalk I see a girl that could be Ellie. The fork stops midway to my mouth and I just watch her as she gets closer, hoping that she’ll reach for the door to the diner, but she doesn’t.

  I’ve got to see her, but will she want to see me? I know it won’t be easy and it won’t be without a little more hurt for both of us, but I know what I want. And what I want is Ellie Mae.

  Dropping my fork, losing my appetite, I lean back in the bench and wait for Chad to finish the joke he’s telling, laughing at the dirty punch line along with the others as our coffee cups are refilled. “Hey Chief, have you talked to Ellie?”

  His blue stare lands on me as his laughing wanes and I can’t help but feel small. The Chief has this way of making me feel like a dumbass teen again when he’s scrutinizing me. He gives me a crooked smile and nods his head, making me feel on edge.

  “Not directly to her, but Rhea told me that she’s happy you’re both safe and comin’ home,” he says, pushing his food around. Jack is nodding, looking satisfied with that. But I’m not.

  “And? Is that all?”

  “Yeah,” he says with a little anger evident. “I’m not your messenger, boy. You have a cell phone, you call her.” Reno and Jack nod along with him, but I don’t say anything, I just let it die in the silence that hangs between us until Reno starts talking about what he wants to do with his vacation time coming up.

  The things I want to say are better said in person than over the phone. I don’t want to look at the LED screen, I want to look at her beautiful face. Sitting here, sipping my lukewarm coffee, I’m jolted from my concentration out the window when Jack slaps me on the cheek and I notice that they are all standing, finished with their food, and waiting for me to get out of the booth.

  It’s starting to snow a little, the unusual cold sitting over the south this year making me tuck my jacket up around my neck as do my friends. I don’t need to know where we are going as we pile into Chad’s agency issued Dodge Charger; I know the scenery too well. We are headed for the hospital to see French.

  They are all talking and joking, but I’m just trying to keep the anxiety of the past from rising in my throat. It’s been forever since I’ve been in downtown Norfolk. The last time I had seen the hospital was when Chad and Reno had picked me up and taken me to my apartment to pack my things. I was walking with a cane then, the pain, hurt, and depression still fresh in my mind. The sight of the tall, looming building with the ambulances parked off to the side makes the hurt try to resurface, but I tamp it down as Chad pulls into a space and throws it into park.

  “That whiny French better be in a good mood today.” Reno laughs, the other two joining him as they all climb out, but I’m still sitting there; my left leg shaking wildly with all the of the nerves running around within me right now. I feel Chad’s eyes on me and I reach for the handle as Reno says, “You can stay here, Man, if you don’t wanna come in. French will understand.”

  “No, Brother.” I smile at him and climb out, trying the shake the tension from my shoulder and Chad slaps me on the back, giving me that crooked smile that tells me he knows what I’m going through. Hospitals aren’t his favorite place either, especially since almost losing Rhea and Charlie, and I return the hearty slap as he laughs. “Let’s go rag on the ol’ man.”

  Through the bustling foyer and main desk, we all laugh at the story of French getting shot in the ass when we were in Columbia. Even though I was there at the time, it’s even funnier hearing Chad and Reno re-tell it and Jack’s infectious laughter echo through the hallway as we make it to room 359.

  “Ah-fuck! That hurts! Could ya not be so rough…damn!” we hear shouted from behind the curtain as we enter the room and I can’t help but laugh out loud. French’s shadow is behind the curtain, sitting in a wheelchair and his hand whips the curtain open, his face red and a sweat breaking out on his brow. “What the hell are you assholes doin’ here?” he grunts, in obvious discomfort.

  “We came to see your grumpy ass, LT.” I smile at him, trying to piss him off and as he rolls his eyes I know I’ve succeeded. “What? Is the nurse bein’ too rough on tough ol’ Austin French?”

  “Oh don’t let the groanin’ and moanin’ fool you, boys,” the nurse says, coming around the corner and I recognize her plump figure. “Well Mr. Timmons! Never thought I’d see you again. Looks like you’re doin’ well.” The woman who got me out of bed and changed the bandage on my leg every morning, then wheeled me to therapy, stands before me and some of the hurt and despair tries to rear its head.

  “Yeah, well this complainin’ piece of work is my friend.” I dodge a punch as French wheels himself over toward his bed, his leg bandaged and elevated. “And yes, I’m doin’ well.” The middle aged woman smiles sweetly, patting me on the shoulder as she walks past, trying to help French back into his bed until he yells at her and she lets him fall onto the mattress, throwing her hands up.

  “Well! Please, by all means, if he asks you to sneak him out in a suitcase, take him!” She laughs as French swears under his breath, turning to us from the doorway. “If he needs anythin’ I’ll be at the desk.” We all nod. It feels weird being recognized by a woman who probably treats thousands of people in a month, and it’s been almost a year since I’ve been here.

  “Must be you left an impression, lover boy,” Jack jokes, pulling the knit hat from my head and messing my hair before plopping down into the chair I was headed for. God, he’s like the big brother I never wanted.

  “Stop givin’ him the evil eye, Timmons,” French grumbles as he shifts in his bed, pointing to the end. “Sit your ass down there.”

  “As long as you’re not gonna yell and bitch at me if I happen to bump your leg.” I give him a wicked smiles as he flips me off and I hover my arm over his outstretched leg, acting like I’m going to hit him and he flinches only a little.

  He leans forward and grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me in and grinding out, “If you so much as breathe on my leg, I’ll rip off your prosthetic and beat you ta death with it.” He holds onto the serious note for only a second before breaking out into laughter and slapping me lightly on the cheek before he leans back. That’s the LT for you, always trying to be a hard-ass, but he’s really just a joker under it all.

  We sit there, through the nurse bringing French his meal, joking and laughing about everything under the sun. French asks Jack what his plans are, and he gives the LT the same answer; he’ll stick around long enough to catch up with his family, but after that he makes no promises. Then he retorts with, “Unless I find me a nice piece of ass to keep my attention,” making us all laugh and French chokes mildly on his soup, getting a hard slap on the back from Chief as I go to the window.

  This cityscape is familiar. I remember the numerous days I spent sitting in my wheelchair looking down to the street and the people milling around, wishing that I could have been one of them and not me. The hurt starts to squeeze in my chest, remembering the pain I endured in one of these rooms and the times I spent damning all of the two-legged people running and walking on the streets below. The nightmares flash before my eyes; the feel of the heat from the grenade and the shock of waking up in the Army hospital, and I sink my head into my hand, rubbing the spot between my eyes to try and stop the headache I know will come.

  “Hey, Man,” Chad’s low voice pulls me from the dark and his hand on my shoulder makes me face him as he sidles up next to me, looking to the streets below. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, for now.” I give
him a weak smile and I know by the look in his eyes that Chad knows where my mind was just now. He pats my back, gripping the back of my neck and shaking me a little like he always does when he knows I’m a little down.

  “Ready to go home?” He smiles, turning his back to the window and leaning against the ledge, crossing his arms over his chest. I do the same and see Reno and Jack both nod, French raising his hand as he drinks the last of his coffee.

  “Who said you’re goin’ with us, ol’ man?” Reno laughs and Austin tosses his napkin at him, causing us all to laugh a little.

  Chad looks back to me, waiting for my answer. Am I ready to go back to Wakefield? What if Ellie doesn’t want to forgive me or give us another chance? I sigh deeply, rubbing my hands over my face and back through my hair. Well, I guess it’s now or never, right?

  “Hell yes,” I say to the Chief, and seeing his wide smile raises my spirits. The nerves within me kick into overdrive at the thought of finally seeing Ellie. So many what ifs are in the equation, but all I can do is be me and hope that it’s enough to make up for the lost time and heartache.

  ~~~~

  Ellie

  I don’t know how my cousin is keeping it together right now. I can’t help but constantly sneak peeks at her from the corner of my eye as I play with Charlie on the floor. She’s been standing at the glass patio door, staring out into the dark backyard for countless minutes now, just holding her coffee cup to her lips without taking a sip. I’m worried about what’s she’s thinking and how she’ll deal when Chad walks through that front door at any time now.

  When we got back from our ‘girls vacation’ at the cabin, there was this manila envelope waiting on the floor by the front door, obviously having been pushed through her mail slot, and the contents made her cry for hours on end. They were pictures of Chad with his arm around some red headed woman, eating lunch with the same woman, and walking down the streets in Norfolk with this woman. On the back of one of the photos, taken at night, scrawled in thick black marker were the words, “Did you think your husband was always working late?”