Dad was an Army man. He served four years in the Army before he got out and went into construction. There was a reason why Dad married Mom; he was a wild child like her. He credited the Army with sorting his shit out and saving his life. Problem for my Mom was, she didn’t sort her shit out when she was a soldier’s wife. Dad would have stayed in the Army but being in the Army often meant being away and Mom had me and Dad knew Mom couldn’t be trusted alone with me so he got out to make sure I was raised right.
But Dad still loved the Army. Dad bought olive-drab t-shirts with the word “ARMY” on the front of them and wore them all the time. And Dad formed instant, unshakable bonds with any of his Army brethren. He did it all the time, when we were on vacation, when he was at the hardware store, when he was standing in line to buy a bucket of chicken. He had a sixth Army sense and if he got a whiff of Army, bonding ensued.
Like right now with Hawk.
“Yeah,” Hawk replied and Dad still had hold of his hand so he shook it fervently, a relieved, elated smile on his face.
All thoughts of his daughter’s break-in had flown out of his head. I had a man. That man was an Army man. Not a man like Scott Leighton, who Dad told me after I divorced him he always thought was a pu**y (and he’d used the p-word right to my face, then again, Dad pretty much hated Scott). All was suddenly right in Baxter Kidd’s world and what was making it right was the man standing in front of him.
Yes, I was definitely f**ked.
Dad let go of Hawk’s hand and clamped me to his side again, looking down at me. “Honey, why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?” he asked, giving me a shake and beaming at me like a lunatic.
“Um…” I mumbled.
“This is lovely, we’ll have to have you over for dinner,” Meredith put in, my head swung to her to see she was smiling brightly at Hawk.
That was Meredith. If it was a-okay with Baxter, it was hunky dory with her.
Shit!
“Um…” I mumbled, louder and more hysterical this time.
“Make your lasagna,” Dad put in his order then turned to Hawk. “The lasagna is good, son, but it’s her garlic bread that takes the cake. It’s homemade, from scratch, all the way down to the bread.”
Oh my God! Did my father just call my mystery lover “son” after only knowing him for five seconds? He’d never called Scott “son”. The only thing he ever called Scott was “Scott” and “a pu**y”.
“Um…!” It came out like a strangled cry.
“Gwendolyn,” Lawson called and my frantic eyes few to him.
“Yeah?” I answered.
He took a step in to join our huddle, his hand in his jacket pocket and he pulled out a wallet while speaking. “I’m done here but you need anything, hear anything you think I need to know or remember anything,” he was pulling a business card out of his wallet and he handed it to me, his soulful brown eyes locked with mine, “call me, day or night. My cell is on that card.”
“Uh… okay,” I replied, taking the card and his eyes released me and moved to Hawk.
“You got footage?” he asked.
“Yep,” Hawk answered.
“You know this guy?” Lawson went on.
“Haven’t seen the tape,” Hawk replied, “but my boys couldn’t ID him. I’ll have a look at it when I get back to base.”
“The car?” Lawson kept at it.
“Ran the plates, it’s stolen,” Hawk answered.
“Is it too much to ask you to share that footage with us?” Lawson continued.
“It’s already been e-mailed to the Station,” Hawk returned.
“Footage?” my father butted in and Hawk’s eyes went to him.
“Got a business, part of what I do is security. Gwen and I hooked up; I put cameras on her house. It’s monitored twenty-four, seven. Couple weeks back, we installed more cameras to monitor the street. We got tape of the guy who broke in.”
Dad’s arm squeezed me and his face, which had been slightly bemused when Hawk and Lawson were talking, had started beaming again at the thought of my Army man monitoring my house in an effort to keep me safe.