The Siren (5 page)

He was chopping up vegetables. “You can get me a beer out of the fridge.”

“I can do that.” I released him and walked to the refrigerator. “Oh, you got the good stuff.” I pulled out two Green Man IPAs.
 

He looked over at me. “I love this city.”

I smiled and reached for the bottle opener. “Beer capital of the US.” I opened one and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he said, tipping it up to his lips.

I opened my beer and hopped on top of the counter, a safe distance away from the cutting board. “What did you do today?”

He didn’t look up from the plump potato he was butchering.

I nudged him with my toe. “Earth to Warren.”

“Huh?” His head whipped toward me, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his thoughts.

I laughed and took a sip of my beer. “What’s with you?”

He put the knife down and took a deep breath, nervously knocking his knuckles against the counter. “I’m being reactivated with the Marines.”

My heels hit the counter beneath me with a thud. “What?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and cut his eyes up at me. “That’s what the whole trip to Washington was about.”

My pulse began to pick up speed. “But you’re out. You’re not in the Marines anymore.”

He dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I screwed up when I signed my contract seven years ago. They offered me more money to take four more years of active duty and then four years on IRR if I chose to get out.”

“IRR?” I asked, confused.

“Inactive Ready Reserve,” he said. “It means I’m out, but for four years they can recall me for any reason they want. I have one year left before I’m completely free and clear of the military.”

I put my beer down. “What does this mean?”

“It means I have to report to MEPS in Charlotte in thirty days—well, twenty-nine days now.”

I shook my head. “So many acronyms. What’s MEPS?”

“Military Entrance Processing Station,” he said. “I’ll do a lot of paperwork, have a bunch of medical tests and shots, and then they’ll ship me out.”

“Ship you where?”

He shrugged. “The Middle East most likely, but they haven’t told me.”

Tears began tickling the corners of my eyes, and he must have noticed because he closed the space between us before the tears hit my cheeks. Sandwiching his torso between my legs, he ran his strong hands down my arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “This is my fault.”

I sniffed. “It’s not your fault. It’s
my
fault.”

He laughed with surprise. “How do you figure?”

“I pulled you into the case with the missing girls. I put you on the government’s radar when we landed on the news,” I said.

He tucked my hair behind my ears. “No, you didn’t. I should never have agreed to that many years on IRR. I got greedy, I guess. At the time I didn’t have any good reason to turn the money down for a shorter term. Now I do.” He tipped my chin up to look in my eyes.

“How long will you be gone?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be up to a year.”

A boulder dropped into my stomach. “A year?”

He moved his head from side to side. “It will probably be more like nine months. Maybe shorter if it’s just a mission they want me on. It won’t be longer than a year though.”

I put my head on his shoulder. “A week is too long.”

He stroked my hair. “We’ll get through this, I promise. I’ll always come back for you.”

His words gave me chills rather than comfort. Statements like that were more ominous than anything, but I didn’t ruin the sentiment with my fears. I pulled back and looked at him. “What about our trip to Texas?”

He smiled. “We can still go. I’ve got a whole month. In fact, I booked our tickets before I left the house, and I got us a nice suite at the Hyatt Regency right on the River Walk. The room overlooks the river.”

“What about Nathan?” I asked.

He dropped his head and cut his eyes up at me. “I will do anything in this world for you, but I draw the line at sharing our hotel room with another man.”

I laughed and wiped my eyes with the cuff of my sleeve, smearing mascara on the cuff. “That’s not what I meant.”

“God, I hope not.” He tugged on the strings of my hoodie. “I texted Nate and told him where we’re staying. He can stay where he wants. Our flight is Saturday at 7:45.”

“In the morning?”
 

He chuckled. “Yes. In the morning, and you’re going to be pleasant and grateful.”
 

Frowning, I looked up at him. “You’re asking a lot.”

He gathered my hair behind my head and looked at me seriously again. “I am really sorry, Sloan.”

I laced my hands together behind his neck, and he rested his forehead against mine. “Warren, I don’t want you to leave.” I teared up again.

“Shh.” He kissed my eyes. “We’re not going to worry about that till we have to. You never know, they could call it off between now and then.”

Deep down, I knew our luck wasn’t that good, but I nodded like I believed him. I looked up into his deep, black eyes that had faint halos around the pupils. After a lifetime of seeing into the souls of everyone around me, it was still a refreshing surprise that this man was so much a mystery.
 

“I love you,” I blurted out.

He pulled back, his eyes wide with shock.

I covered my mouth with my hands and laughed with embarrassment. “I’ve never said that to anyone other than family or Adrianne before.”

He smiled. “Really?”

I bit my lip. “Never.”

Warren closed his eyes and shook his head.

Panic washed over me.
Oh no. It’s too soon. What have I done?

“Sloan.” His voice was barely above a whisper. When he looked at me again, tears sparkled in his eyes. “No one has ever said that to me
at all
.”

The magnitude of his statement could have been calculated on the Richter scale. Tightening my arms around him, I pulled him close. “I love you, Warren,” I said again.

Quietly in my ear he replied, “I love you, too.”

4.

“No.” In protest, I pulled the covers up over my head and rolled to cocoon myself in the blankets of my warm bed.

“Sloan, it’s 4:30. I let you sleep an extra half hour.” Warren kicked the side of the bed frame with his boot.
 

“I don’t want to go to Texas anymore,” I whined into my pillow.

“Don’t make me get mean,” he warned.

I ignored him.
 

A moment later, I was hurled across the bed, unwinding from my swirl of covers like a spinning top being flung across the mattress. Stunned, I landed on my back against Warren’s pillows. He was holding my comforter in both hands.
 

He pointed at me. “If you go back to sleep I’m going to break out ice water and fog horns.”

I frowned. “I love you a little less in moments like this.”
 

He was still pointing at me. “We’re about to have our first fight, woman.” He walked to the door and flipped on the light. It scalded my eyeballs. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes if you want to stop at your parents’ house on the way to the airport.” He turned before I could object, and I heard his heavy footfalls on the stairs.

Apparently, I was wrong to believe that once I became a fully-functioning adult, my internal alarm clock would awaken and, like my mother, I would begin bounding happily out of bed at sunrise. Perhaps my hatred of mornings was further proof I was adopted.
 

Warren was probably right that our first fight would likely happen over our morning schedules. He was always awake at four like clockwork, and I believed it was ungodly to be up before the sun. On the rare occasions when I was forced to wake up with his alarm, he was so dang perky before coffee that I wanted to slap him till he felt as terrible as I did. I groaned and pushed myself off the bed.
 

Thankfully, I had showered and packed the night before, so there wasn’t much to do besides brush my teeth and pile my hair onto the top of my head in a messy bun. Twenty minutes later, I trudged to the car in my sweats, dragging my bags behind me. The October chill of the North Carolina mountains nipped at my face, but it still wasn’t enough to rouse me from my sleepy stupor.
 

Warren shook his head with grief from where he waited at the trunk of his black Dodge Challenger.
 

I held up a finger in warning. “Not one word.” I rubbed my eyes, blindly handing him my toiletries bag and my makeup case that I hadn’t opened that morning.

“Here,” he said as he handed me a travel mug full of coffee.
 

“Bless you,” I whispered. I walked to the passenger side door, wrenched it open, and climbed into the already-warm car.

After he got in and fastened his seatbelt, he looked over at me before putting the car in drive. “We’ll have about fifteen minutes to spend at your mom’s. We need to be at the airport pretty soon.”

I looked at the clock. It was five minutes till five. “Our flight isn’t for three hours.”

He pulled away from the curb. “Yes, but we’ve got to park, check our bags, go through security, and get to the gate on time.”
 

I pulled my knees up to my chest and sipped my coffee. “It’s the Asheville Regional Airport, Warren. Not Chicago/O’Hare. They have one terminal and only seven gates. I think we can manage.”

He reached over and pushed my feet off his black leather seat. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a bitch before nine a.m.?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He laughed and shook his head.
 

We drove to my parents’ house in blessed silence. I envied the houses that were dark and untouched by the cruelty of morning, their undisturbed inhabitants still dreaming in bed. Such was not the case at the Jordan homestead, however. Every light in my parents’ house was on. Knowing my mother, I was certain the coffee was fresh, breakfast was on the stove, and that she’d already been for a morning jog around the neighborhood.

Yes. There was no doubt I was adopted.

My mother met us at the door. “You look terrible,” she said, stepping aside as we entered.

I smirked as I slipped off my winter coat. “Love you too, Mom.”

Mom squeezed Warren’s arm. “You’re an angel, dear boy.”

He laughed. “Has she always been like this?”

Mom nodded. “Since the day I brought her home.” She put her arm around my shoulders. “Do you need some more coffee, sweetie?”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

A familiar, uncomfortable sensation came over me that I was noticing more and more only around my mother. It was like something unseen was pulling at my attention, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I turned and studied her face. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked, not meaning for the words to come out the way they did.

Her eyebrows lifted. “She’s pleasant, isn’t she?” Mom asked, looking up at Warren and shaking her head.

Warren pinched my side so hard I flinched. “What’s the matter with you?”
 

I held up my hands in defense as we followed her to the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dad came down the stairs already dressed for the day. He looked me up and down. “Is it Christmas morning and I forgot? You’re never here this early without the promise of presents and food.” He walked over to give me a hug. Over my shoulder, he spoke to Warren. “You’re a brave man, son.”

“Or a very stupid one,” Warren said.

Dad laughed. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this morning?”

“We’re going to Texas for a vacation, so I wanted to tell you goodbye before we left,” I said.
 

Dad crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s in Texas?”
 

“Sand,” I answered as I plopped down on a stool at the bar.

Warren leaned against the counter. “We’re going to San Antonio for a little while. We found another woman who might be like us.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “Someone with your same gifts?”

“Maybe. That’s what we want to find out,” Warren said. “Hopefully, it will be a little bit of a vacation as well. I just found I’ll be deployed next month.”

“Deployed?” Mom asked.

Warren nodded. “The Marines are recalling me. I’m not sure why, but I assume they will be sending me back to Iraq or Afghanistan.”

My dad shook his head with a frown. “I’m sorry to hear it. We were just getting used to having you around.”

Warren sighed and rolled his eyes. “Trust me. You aren’t as sorry as I am.”
 

“So, will it just be the two of you in Texas?” Mom asked. “That sounds very romantic.”

“And Nathan,” I added over the rim of my coffee cup.

My mother cocked her head to the side. “Really?”

I was sure my mother’s mind was spinning with confusion and excitement. She really liked Warren, and she was truly happy for me, but Audrey Jordan had picked out Nathan McNamara as her new son-in-law the very first time she laid eyes on him.

“We’ve all become really good friends,” Warren said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”

He chuckled.

My mother put a bowl of fruit down in front of me along with a fresh, steaming blueberry muffin from the oven. “Eat something, dear. It will raise your blood sugar and possibly make you a little more tolerable.”

I fished a green grape from the bowl. “Thanks,” I grumbled, popping it into my mouth.
 

“Warren, would you like some breakfast?” Mom asked, holding up the basket of muffins.

He shook his head. “No thank you, ma’am. I ate at the house before we left.”

I rolled my eyes, pointing in his direction. “Warren eats healthy crap that tastes like horse feed and grass in the mornings.”

Mom gently shook my shoulder. “Maybe you should follow his lead. I like this man more and more as I get to know him.”
 

I did too, but I was too grumpy to agree with her or make Warren feel good about himself.
 

“I will take some more coffee, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Jordan,” Warren said.

“Certainly, Mr. Parish.” My mother’s tone was mocking as she took his travel mug.