Missing in Action Read online

  I’m just fucking fine.

  What I need is to get back in the field. To have a purpose. I’m fucking sick to death of sitting on my ass and doing jack shit but workouts. It’s been nearly three years since my capture and subsequent torture, and two years since I was rescued by my team after being left for dead in a cave deep in the desert. If not for some local tribe leader and his son coming upon my body and making a call to the United States government, I’d be dead for sure. Just like my captors wanted. The whole ordeal was nothing but pain and torment. I barely remember where we were sequestered, how often we moved, or what they wanted.

  While the Syrians that took me knew how to put a man through his paces, they hadn’t broken me. That much I do know. It’s why my back, chest, and arms are covered in scars. They put China’s torture of a thousand cuts to shame.

  I suffered a year in hell before my team found me then spent another year in rehab and psychiatric hell before I was released into the real world again. It took six months more before I was finally able to reconnect with my family in Loveland, Colorado. Hayes, my sister, found herself a good man, a fighter with a mean upper cut. Levi takes care of her, and that’s all I gave a shit about.

  On my return home, she was pissed at me. Pissed that I left and led her to believe I was dead. That wasn’t quite my fault, however. But I get her anger. The night my parents were notified of my disappearance, my baby sister lost everything, too. Nearly, her life. Her Olympic dreams were crushed in a second.

  She’ll never find out that I paid those punk ass shits a visit, or that Foster had some fun explaining all the ways he could thread an explosive through their dicks.

  After spending a few months at home with my family, I packed up to join my team in West Virginia. While we live a high-action career, we all like the sedate town of Charleston. It isn’t overly small, but it isn’t bustling like a major city either. We’re able to relax and unwind after a long mission.

  Which brings me to today. I run…every day. Same time, same pace, same route. Being in my line of work, you’d think I wouldn’t, but the routine helps me shake off the demons chasing me. Lately, the past week or so, the girl next door—the one who never goes outside, whose windows are always closed, and I don’t think I’ve seen a visitor outside of delivery vehicles—has been sitting in her doorway.

  She watches me. Even when she tries not to, I catch her. Her gaze follows me with an emotion I can’t quite identify. She always appears sad when I pass her house. I’m not even sure she knows that I’m her neighbor and not just some random guy from the block.

  Feeling her gaze on me again has me wondering who she is. So, after a quick shower, I run a search through the city’s housing database and find out her name is Codie Ray. She’s the only person listed on the mortgage. For twenty years old, I’m impressed. She owns her own home. Not many people her age can afford that.

  Curiosity highly piqued, I do a few more searches on her. She pays for nearly everything to be delivered; lots of online shopping. No car listed with the DMV. Nothing obvious to show if she has a significant other or not, but from what I can tell, she doesn’t leave her home. Even her job, a merchant dealer online, she can do from home.

  “I wonder what her damage is.”

  There has to be something wrong with Codie. No twenty-year-old girl stays home as much as she does without reason. I’m tempted to hack into her medical files but figure that’s a hit on her privacy even I can’t take.

  When I joined Task Force 779, I knew I was going to be violating a lot of laws, people’s privacy, and countless other scenarios. I knew there would be nothing left untouched when it came to our missions. It was my job to know everything, to make sure my team didn’t go in blind. Not researching everything there is to know about my mysterious neighbor is a punch to the gut.

  She’s been here longer than I have from what I can tell, but until a week ago, I don’t ever remember seeing her. I’ve never paid this much attention before, either. But now that I know she’s here, I can’t stop thinking about her.

  Chapter 2

  Codie

  It worked. Good lord did it work. I opened the door that first day, and while it was overwhelming and I barely lasted a minute, it was freeing to have that power.

  I knew I could close the door at any time, and when I did, I’d be able to open it again. After three weeks of repeating that action, once a day for a few minutes, I’ve gained a small amount of control over my life again. My fears don’t run this for me.

  I do.

  I’ve timed it so that when I’ve got deliveries coming, I’ll be sitting on the floor, waiting, sketching with the door wide open.

  Today, I’m waiting for a different reason. There’s this man, and at the same time every day, he runs past my house at a steady pace. He’s the first guy to make me feel like a woman in far longer than I care to admit. He’s the first person I’ve looked at with anything other than repulsion in over two years.

  He appears so powerful, like a soldier out to save the world. A grim expression usually covers his handsome features. I can’t see much from my perch, but his jaw is strong, solid, and his eyes are always focused in front of him. I doubt he even knows I watch as he passes by.

  Recognizing the padding of his feet just seconds before he appears, my sole focus is on him. “One. Two. Three.” I count his steps. “One. Two. Three.” I’m not OCD. I just like small numbers. It gives me a sense of calm. “One. Two. Three.” And he’s gone. Two neighbors down and I won’t see him again until this time tomorrow. I don’t even know where he lives.

  Picking up my stuff, I’m about to close the door when I pause as I see a sedan driving slowly down the block. The windows are tinted so I can’t see the occupants, and they don’t stop in front of anyone’s house or even hesitate as they pass a certain address. I don’t know who they are or what they want, but I don’t like it.

  I can identify everyone’s vehicles on the block, and this one is out of place. I close the door, counting the deadbolts as I lock them. “One, two, three.” Feeling calmer, but I still watch through the peephole until the car has left my sight.

  For the rest of the day, that strange vehicle is all I can seem to think about as I fill purchases for the online retailer I work for. I distribute money and orders to various companies, and normally, it’s only a few hours out of my day to process, but because I can’t concentrate worth crap, it takes me longer than anticipated.

  Making myself a quick fruit salad for a late dinner, I finally sit down to watch the first night of Shark Week. Disappointment slams me when I hit the power button on the remote and nothing happens. The TV turns on, but the cable box remains blank.

  Seeing how late it is, I know I won’t reach the cable company today, so I opt for bed instead and hope to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I promise myself, I’ll try and step out onto the porch for a full minute.

  I miss the feeling of thick grass between my toes, and by the summer’s end, that’s my goal. To touch the grass again.

  Sleep claims me quickly, so when I’m awoken suddenly, my entire body tenses as I try to listen for what disturbed the quiet night. Surrounded by stretched silence, I wait as my erratic heartbeat drowns out any noise and evens out. Not noticing any out of place sounds, I ever so slowly crack open my eyelids.

  A lone figure stands facing the window that is above my dresser on the opposite wall, and I fight not to scream, jerk around in my bed, or run. I struggle to remain perfectly still. I battle to control the increased breathing from my lungs.

  Remembering my cell phone is on my nightstand, I creep my hand forward, careful not to make any noise or moves that will draw the intruder’s attention from whatever he’s doing. With a firm grip, I strain not to pull my arm too quickly back under the covers where I can, hopefully, hide the light from the phone display.

  Switching the mute button on, I dial 911 and let it ring long enough that someone picks up and says hello twice. Hanging up, I pray that the movies
and news stories are right, and the operators are required to call back.

  I wait with bated breath just as the phone rings silently in my hand. As I accept the call, the mysterious person turns around. I glide the phone under my pillow, hitting “end call” as I do, and I pray he doesn’t realize what I’ve done.

  Pushing the phone so it’s squished under my head, I move my hand forward subtly and force myself not to tense at his approach to the side of the bed. Closing my eyes, I do my best to relax my facial muscles and hide the whimper trying to break free.

  I’ve never been so vulnerable before, and I scarcely know what to do when I feel the man’s shadow tower over me, encompassing me in his evil presence. The waiting is the worst. I’m terrified he’ll touch me, and I won’t be able to contain my terror.

  Relief nearly has me sighing out a deep breath when I hear sirens in the distance coming closer. My call worked!

  The person’s footsteps are heavy as they retreat down the hallway. I don’t hear a door open or shut, and I can only hope he’s left quietly and isn’t waiting to see if I come downstairs.

  I’m paralyzed with fear even as I see lights flashing in the window and hear banging on the door. I just can’t move. I don’t want to move. I want to wake up and for this to have been just a nightmare. I want to believe there wasn’t some intruder in my home, my sanctuary.

  “Miss Ray!” A voice yells from outside. “I need you to come to the door, or we’ll be breaking it down!”

  More intrusion?

  That gets me out of bed faster than anything else could have.

  Wrapping my quilt tightly around my body, I rush down the stairs in the hopes I don’t trip and fall as my feet move faster than my brain can process right now.

  “Miss Ray!” Pounding follows the yelling.

  “One, two, three.” I flick the deadbolts quickly. Peaking around the door, I whisper, “Hi.”

  “Miss Codie Ray?” one uniformed officer asks with a firm tone.

  “That’s me.” My voice squeaks like a mouse.

  “You made a call to 911. Is anything amiss?” His tone gentles.

  Swallowing around the nervous lump in my throat, I croak out, “Someone was here, in my bedroom.”

  The officer and the other two men around him stand straighter. “Can we come in, take a look around?”

  Pushing the door wider, I have to control the urge to shut them out. I don’t like new people in my home, but I need them right now.

  “Miss, if you’ll follow me out to the cruiser to wait…” The first officer expects me to go with him. He doesn’t know that I’m so messed up that I can’t leave my home. He doesn’t know my agoraphobia cripples me with fear every moment of every day.

  “I can’t,” I whisper and wait for the judgment to enter their stern gazes.

  Ryder

  * * *

  “You really think you’re ready to come back, Tac? Full-time.” Nix, my team leader, asks me. His leveled stare pulls no bullshit as our eyes meet.

  “Been ready for a long time, Knot.” With my elbows on my knees, I pull on the label of my beer as I await not only my boss’, but longtime friend’s, answer.

  Task Force 779 isn’t just an unstoppable team. We aren’t just men with low morals—or high, depending on how you looked at it. We’re family. They’re my brothers. I have their backs, and they have mine. Always.

  “I want you back, Ryder. Hell, we all do.” He takes a long pull of the beer in his hand. “I know you have nightmares. I know you’re still struggling.”

  Holding back my anger and resentment takes everything I have. “I lost more than my freedom that day, Nix.” I can feel his stare as I speak. “I lost more than my mind in that cave.”

  “I fucking know, Ry. We all do. When we found you…Fuck!” He drags a hand down his face. “I didn’t think you’d pull through.”

  “I’m ready.” I have nothing else to fucking say. It’s been two years, and I’m fucking ready. “I want my life back!” My words are harsh but steady.

  “Alright.” The look in his steely gaze says he’s not quite convinced. “I want you to do an easy one. In and out and we’re done.”

  “Deal. When do we leave?” I’m so fucking eager to get back in the field that I’ll take anything at this point.

  Shaking his head, he says, “Three days.”

  “What’s the mission?” I don’t really care what it is.

  “Escorting the U.S. Ambassador back into Moldova. Russia isn’t too happy about Turkey supporting them with their agreement to withdraw the Russian troops, so things have become dicey.”

  “We drop and run? Protection detail?” Interesting, but not unheard of for us.

  “It’s the President’s cousin.” And now it makes more sense.

  “Whatever floats their boat, man.”

  Before we can further discuss the assignment, sirens blare outside my front door, and lights flash as multiple cars come to a stop.

  “What the hell?” For two in the morning, it’s a lot of commotion.

  “I thought you said this was a quiet street?” Nix smirks.

  “It is.” Stepping outside, I see two cruisers parked sideways on the street and three officers running for my cute neighbor’s door. “Shit,” I mutter, running outside barefoot.

  “Always sticking your nose in shit.” Nix laughs at me from the porch.

  “Codie!” I call, giving away my curiosity about the woman. As I round the corner of her garage, I see one officer with his hand on her elbow trying in vain to get her to follow him.

  Her eyes laser into me as they both notice I’m walking closer. “Sir, you can’t be here,” the officer says. Ignoring him, all of my focus is on Codie. The fear in her eyes. The trembling in her slight body.

  “She’s fucking terrified,” I snap at the cop, who finally lets her go to walk towards me.

  “You need to leave. We’re checking for an intruder.” I attempt to walk past him when he places a hand on my chest. “I said, you need to leave!”

  I stop, if only to quell the worry in Codie’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask her, still ignoring the man with his hand on my chest.

  “Let him go,” Nix snaps behind me, flashing a badge the whole team was given when we were recruited. “Presidential detail.” It’s not a complete lie, but it’s the one we tell when asked.

  “What the hell does that have to do with her?” The cop is rightfully confused by Nix’s words, but he lets me go, so I don’t give a shit.

  “Not a lot. But he’s not going to fuck shit up for you. Just wants to support the girl.” I drown out the rest of what they say as I stand just a few feet from Codie.

  “What happened?” I ask her.

  She seems unsure. Her feet shift from side to side, and she looks like she wants to run but can’t. Her stare keeps straying to the front lawn. Confused, I look around and see nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Codie?” My voice is firmer in the hopes that she’ll answer me.

  When her light green eyes snap to mine, I hold my breath. They sear me to my core. Take hold of my heart and refuse to let go. “How do you know my name?” Her voice is soft, skeptical. Smart girl.

  Smirking, I tell her honestly. “You’ve been watching me.” Her blush gives her fair skin some color. “I’ve been watching you, too.” And she pales again.

  “So, you know then?” Her question doesn’t make sense. Neither does the shame in her voice.

  “Know what?” I ask, but she doesn’t get to answer.

  “House is all clear!” One cop calls out as he descends the stairs from the second floor of her house. “Who are you?”

  “Ryder Morrison,” I tell him. I can feel Nix’s imposing frame walk up behind me.

  “Nix Bishop, Presidential detail.”

  “Why are you here?” The third cop asks.

  “Just being neighborly,” I respond because, what else can I say? That I’ve slowly become enthralled with my neighbor? That I’v
e done all kinds of research on her and still can’t figure her out? That doesn’t sound creepy at all.

  “Right.” All three officers ignore us as they face Codie again. “Ma’am, the house is empty. Whoever was here is long gone now.”

  “An intruder? Did he hurt you?” Pushing my way in front of her, I search her delicate frame for obvious injuries.

  “I’m fine,” she whispers, and her confusion is back.

  “If you could come–“

  “No!” she snaps, stepping back from everyone, poised to run at any second.

  “Ma’am, we need–“

  “I said, no.”

  “You called us, miss. We can’t help if we don’t have details.” The first officer is annoyed and letting it bleed through his words.

  “I can’t tell you anything. My room is dark. Something woke me up. The man was standing in front of my window, or I never would have seen him. I don’t know how tall he was, if he had distinguishing marks, nothing. It was dark.” I can hear her voice shaking as the officers try to box her in.

  Stepping in the middle, I turn my back to them, ignoring their presence as I grip Codie’s shoulders. Her tensing doesn’t stop me from rubbing circles with my thumbs. “Breathe,” I encourage.

  “How do you know my name?” she asks again.

  “You watched me for weeks, Codie. I was curious.” I have no shame.

  “If you’re not going to make a statement, miss, we have another call.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t take her goddamned statement here? She’s fucking terrified.” I’ve lost my temper, and I see Nix glaring at me, but I don’t care.

  Codie

  * * *

  I’m sure I look every bit as stupefied as I feel gazing up at this strange man. The one I’ve watched run past my house for weeks. I don’t understand how or why he’s here. I don’t understand anything right now.