Page 9 of Sam to the Rescue

Suds

With the sun high, I drive Deena to yet another fund rally and ponder yesterday’s events. How is it I’ve struggled with PTSD for years and it has always manifested in bad dreams and never day terrors? Is my mental health sliding backwards?

And what if I end up hospitalized? Who’ll take care of Sam and Mikey? I could find help but if someone finds out and posts it on social media, no one would hire me. The bad publicity would put Patten Securities at risk. What a fucking headline that would make.Famous security company sued for hiring damaged vet.

Still trying to sort things out, I park in an old airfield and adjust the volume of my comm unit. “We’ve arrived.”

“Good copy.” Hands responds in my ear and I chill. There’s no better man to have my six.

Taking no chances today, I double check my surroundings. When I’m certain the risk is low, I run around the front of the limo and open the door for the congresswoman.

When she hesitates and her eyes flicker with fear, I shoot her my most reassuring grin. “You can do this. Never let them see you sweat.”

“Platitudes?” She manages to smile but her jaw muscles twitch as I lean into the vehicle and hold out my hand.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Keep your big protective body close and I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

I lower my chin and speak into my chest. “The chicken is out of the coop.”

“That’s what you’re going with? Dude, dude, dude. You need to up your game.” My wingman, chuckles, then adds in a more serious tone. “I got eyes in the sky.”

“Good copy.” With the company drone overhead, I lead Deena Desmond forward while the local cops part the living sea of humanity.

A few angry people carry signs and yell about our second amendment rights but no one acts in a threatening manner, at least not yet. Vigilant, I scan the crowd in case someone’s planning a repeat performance of yesterday.

Shit.Out of the corner of my eye, the same damn foreign woman appears. Today, I refuse to focus on the figment of my imagination but despite Herculean efforts, I’m jolted into the past. My buddies lie dead in the sand and guns blaze all around me but this time I’m certain it will pass. The knowledge doesn’t make the smells any less vivid or keep my heart from racing but seconds later, the fog clears and I’m back in the airfield.

I pray there’s no gunmen and pitch my voice ultra-calm. “Hey Hands, see anything unusual?”

“No chicken hawks from my vantage point.”

Despite all the shit going down, I smile. “Good copy. Did you happen to see a woman in a turquoise burqa with a baby in her arms?”

“No. Want me to lower the craft down for a better look?”

“Not yet but do me a favor and keep your eyes peeled for her.”

“Copy that.”

Thankfully, the rest of the rally goes without incident and before bed, I call Sam. “What’s new, sugar mommy?”

“Same ol’, same ol’. Frankie picked up Chloe, Joey took the kids to the park, and I spent the afternoon on the computer looking for clues on David Kessler’s whereabouts.”

“Find anything?” Stretching in the double bed, I stare at the ceiling and wish I was home in her sweet, lovin’ arms.

“Not yet, but our new employee might have a lead. I might check it out.”

“No sleuthing on your own.” My warning sounds a bit sharp so I tone it down. “We agreed, right sweetheart?”

“No promises, but if I do, I’ll take him with me.”

Rolling my eyes, I bite my tongue. Although not the sharpest stick in the shed, Joey’s got street smarts and is every bit as protective of her as I would be. Not only that, it’s unreasonable to expect she’ll remain at home while I’m out of town.

To avoid confrontation, I change subjects. “How are your self-defense classes going?”

“Better than good. I showed Colin and he says he might let me join his dojo.” Pride wells in her voice and for good reasons. He runs a class for elite forces and doesn’t take in students without potential.