Jodie Bailey - Crossfire

Nodding, she let him open the door and lead her into the lobby where she sank down onto one of the brown pleather chairs in the small waiting room. “I’m fine.”

Her shaking hands said differently, but Josh kept his mouth shut. He had no right to ask more of her. And given her current agitation, she might decide to swing again.

“Where did you come from?” she asked him.

Josh knelt in front of her but kept his distance. “The parking lot.”

The look she fired his way let him know he’d completely misunderstood the question. “I meant how did you wind up here in my office?”

Yeah, it sent him reeling, too, seeing her out of context like this. He tapped his chest where his rank anchored to the front of his uniform. “First sergeant in Third Infantry. I joined the army during college.” He swallowed hard against rising memories about why he signed up, and switched gears on the conversation. “Any idea who that guy was?”

Still clearly on high alert, Andrea shook her head and stared at the door. Was it the attack or him that caused her muscles to tense?

His eyes followed hers, but there was no movement outside in the summer heat. After a quick scan to make sure no one lurked behind the lone car still out there, Josh pushed himself to his feet and glanced at the desk behind him. More than anything, he needed distance. “I’m going to call the police so they can be on the lookout. I can identify the car. Can you give them a description of the guy?”

The tremors moved from her hands, up her arms and through her body. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked up at him. “Definitely. And after you call the police you can call a locksmith. I locked my car keys in my office and the only other set is at my apartment.” Her lips twisted into a rueful, if shaky, smile. “And my apartment keys are on the same key ring. That just caps my day, doesn’t it? First I get jumped, and now I can’t go home.”

Her green eyes latched on to his, as if she was looking for confirmation that it was okay to relax. They were the color of those old-fashioned Coke bottles, clearer and purer than he remembered. For a second, Josh couldn’t break away, but he shook it off and forced himself to go make the call. She’d probably give him a black eye if she could read his thoughts. He’d seen her in action.

“So, Andrea.” It had been so many years since he’d spoken her name that it felt foreign on his tongue. “This is your office? You started this place?” The chaplain had passed on the information about the counseling center to his chain of command, but he’d never heard her name associated with it.

“Yeah.” She shuddered and flexed the fingers of the hand that had recently met his cheek. “I’m sorry I tried to deck you.”

“No worries. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable.” Josh bit back a smile as he picked up the phone and took note of the stack of business cards on the counter. Andrea Donovan. So she wasn’t married, unless she was one of those women who refused to take her husband’s name. Not that he should be noticing.

The name still fit her as it always had, soft and girlish at first glance, but tough on the next look. The admiration building in him quenched itself under a heavy dose of guilt. She wouldn’t have had to be tough if he’d have come to the rescue earlier. Then again, it looked as if she’d done a pretty good job of rescuing herself. Ten seconds more and she probably wouldn’t have needed him at all.

Or she’d have been dead. He shook off the thought. There was no sense living in what might have been, especially when God had definitely kept the worst from happening. And there was no other explanation for this bizarre twist to his day, no other reason for him to be here other than to watch over her, to somehow fix what he’d broken years ago.

After a brief conversation with the police, Josh sank into a chair near Andrea. “You doing okay?”

She looked up from flexing her ankle. “I’m still here, thanks to you, and my ankle hurts less every second. All in all, it ended better than it should have.” Before Josh could dig deeper, she rested her foot on the floor and gripped her knees. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Josh sprang to his feet, his pulse quickening and driving hammers into the impact point on his cheek. He never should have forgotten why he was here in the first place. “Specialist Cameron. Where is he?”

The question barely ended before Andrea reacted. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, she stood gingerly and faced off, fists clenched. “What’s going on, Josh?”

* * *

Prickles of fear crawled up Andrea’s spine and spread into her fingernails. The boy she’d known years ago was now the man who happened into her office at just the right time? Two men bursting in to ask about the same young soldier? More than a dozen years had passed since she last laid eyes on Josh, and there was no way to tell what he’d gotten into in the intervening time. For all intents and purposes, he was as much a stranger as the giant she’d kicked in the face.

Andrea crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. Her mind whirled for a way to escape while her ankle protested enough to let her know in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t expect to make a run for it and get very far. Take control of the situation. Buck his authority. Let him know you’re in charge. “What do you want with Specialist Cameron?”

Perplexity floated across the brown eyes that locked on to hers. Josh’s eyebrows drew together in a V, betraying his confusion at her barely concealed accusation. “He’s one of my soldiers. Where is he?” His gaze darted around the room, taking in each corner.

“Clearly, he’s not here. And your friend who just ran out of here got the same speech from me. I won’t tell you the last time I saw Specialist Cameron, but I will tell you it wasn’t today.” Andrea held her breath and stiffened her spine, unwilling to believe Josh could be on the wrong side of this, but knowing she had to protect herself and Wade if he was.

“My friend?” He looked back to her, and a sudden flicker of understanding darkened his features. “Wait a second. You think I was with the punk who just busted in here and tried to tear you into pieces?”

“You’re both asking for the same person. That’s a little too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Indignation surged through Andrea, and she fought to hold it back. Her ankle might be throbbing, but her fists were ready to fly. She’d show this dark-eyed man he’d messed with the wrong woman if he so much as breathed too hard. He’d have more than a bruised cheek to worry about if...

She tilted her head. Had she actually given him that bruise? Smug warmth heated her face. Sweet. She still had it, even at thirty-two and after six years of sitting behind a desk.

Josh cleared his throat. “I have no idea what your first visitor wanted, but I can tell you that at approximately 1630 I watched Specialist Wade Cameron walk through those doors—” he jerked his thumb behind him “—and take a left turn.” His eyes scanned the lobby and lit on a door as his words evaporated into the muggy air.

Andrea tipped her head, still tensed for a fight. What was he talking about? “Wade never came in here. At 4:30 I was halfway through a fifty-minute session. With my receptionist Grace on vacation, Wade would have sat right here in these chairs and waited if you dropped him off here.” She stepped between Josh and the door he still eyed. “That’s a supply closet. The only other way out of this building is down that hall.” She pointed behind her to an opening near her office, on the opposite side of the lobby from the closet. “But that door’s always locked and it’s armed with a fire alarm. The only way out without making a racket is to unlock it and turn it off with the key, and only my receptionist and I have one.”