Read Online Broken Soldier: A Novel by Clara Frost - Free Book Online
Authors: Clara Frost
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back in and get some rope.”
“And just leave them here?”
She chewed her lip. “Okay, stay here and keep an eye on them.”
“You stay. I suspect I know a thing or two more about rope.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but he was already moving, not giving her a chance. He wasn’t sure how many mountains she’d scaled or how many helicopters she’d rappelled, but he had a feeling he’d win if they compared numbers.
He went back into the store and headed straight for Pete’s department. It felt good to have a mission he could complete on his own. Pete was standing by the helmets, talking to another of the staff, another punk fratboy. They both turned around when they heard the click of Rafa’s prosthetic foot on the store’s tile floor.
“Your girl leave you, dude?” Pete asked.
Rafa took a deep breath, held it for a count of four. Combat calming techniques worked on blockhead fratboys, too. He hoped. “She’s outside.” He tried to slide around the two guys, but they didn’t move, leaving the aisle blocked.
“Excuse me,” Rafa said.
“She just feels sorry for you, you know that, right?” Pete practically sneered.
“Look, I just need some rope, not any trouble.”
“You gotta tie your girl down to get what you want? That’s sad.” The other employee looked embarrassed, but Pete kept going. “It’s too bad the Taliban didn’t get your dick, too. Or did they?”
Rafa’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly how this sort of conversation normally went, but it was the first time he’d been involved in one since the IED. The fratboy would jaw a little, then he’d get close, jab a finger into Rafa’s chest. He’d offer to take things outside, and then he’d swing a big, dumb overhand punch. It happened the same way in every bar fight in the world.
“I killed fourteen hardened Taliban fighters the day I lost my leg. I’d tell you how many I killed before that, but you can’t count that high.” He spoke carefully, quietly so there could be no mistake about his earnestness. The way the kid’s eyes went wide told him that his message was getting through just fine. “Now are you going to let me get my rope, or am I going to put you in the hospital?”
Pete scooted out of the way. “If you’re still here when I get back with my manager, I’m calling the cops, dude. I don’t care who you are.”
Rafa nodded once, turned to the rope. Stupid monkey dance. Only way to handle it was to jump ahead, throw ‘em off guard. It was just lucky things didn’t have to get physical. Pete would never be able to live down getting his ass kicked by a one legged man.
The store had good rope. Tactical rope. Rafa found a hundred foot piece of 550 cord in a muted midnight blue and headed for the registers.
Pete and the manager never showed.
#
The cabin was in better shape than Emily remembered, even without Paul and Christa prepping it. It lay in a snow-covered meadow, its private ski lift stretching up the mountain behind it. The lights were already shining, enabled remotely by Christa. Slate gray clouds scudded overhead, promising fresh snowfall in the evening.
All in all, it looked just about perfect for a weekend getaway.
“I thought you said it was a cabin,” Rafa said. “That’s practically an estate.”
“It belongs to Christa’s parents. They rent it out sometimes, I think.” She parked the car and led Rafa to the front door.
It was even more gorgeous inside than out. A chandelier hung over the living room. Bearskin rugs lay on the floors. Wooden chairs and leather sofas were arranged around a massive fireplace.
“Wow,” Rafa said. “Sure beats Kabul.”
“They’ve upgraded since the last time I was here. I think the bedrooms are back this way.”
They moved deeper into the house. The first bedroom had a king-sized sleigh bed covered in a big, fuzzy blanket.
“ Muy bueno ,” Rafa said under his breath.
Emily smiled. “That’s the guest room.” She continued on,
“And just leave them here?”
She chewed her lip. “Okay, stay here and keep an eye on them.”
“You stay. I suspect I know a thing or two more about rope.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but he was already moving, not giving her a chance. He wasn’t sure how many mountains she’d scaled or how many helicopters she’d rappelled, but he had a feeling he’d win if they compared numbers.
He went back into the store and headed straight for Pete’s department. It felt good to have a mission he could complete on his own. Pete was standing by the helmets, talking to another of the staff, another punk fratboy. They both turned around when they heard the click of Rafa’s prosthetic foot on the store’s tile floor.
“Your girl leave you, dude?” Pete asked.
Rafa took a deep breath, held it for a count of four. Combat calming techniques worked on blockhead fratboys, too. He hoped. “She’s outside.” He tried to slide around the two guys, but they didn’t move, leaving the aisle blocked.
“Excuse me,” Rafa said.
“She just feels sorry for you, you know that, right?” Pete practically sneered.
“Look, I just need some rope, not any trouble.”
“You gotta tie your girl down to get what you want? That’s sad.” The other employee looked embarrassed, but Pete kept going. “It’s too bad the Taliban didn’t get your dick, too. Or did they?”
Rafa’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly how this sort of conversation normally went, but it was the first time he’d been involved in one since the IED. The fratboy would jaw a little, then he’d get close, jab a finger into Rafa’s chest. He’d offer to take things outside, and then he’d swing a big, dumb overhand punch. It happened the same way in every bar fight in the world.
“I killed fourteen hardened Taliban fighters the day I lost my leg. I’d tell you how many I killed before that, but you can’t count that high.” He spoke carefully, quietly so there could be no mistake about his earnestness. The way the kid’s eyes went wide told him that his message was getting through just fine. “Now are you going to let me get my rope, or am I going to put you in the hospital?”
Pete scooted out of the way. “If you’re still here when I get back with my manager, I’m calling the cops, dude. I don’t care who you are.”
Rafa nodded once, turned to the rope. Stupid monkey dance. Only way to handle it was to jump ahead, throw ‘em off guard. It was just lucky things didn’t have to get physical. Pete would never be able to live down getting his ass kicked by a one legged man.
The store had good rope. Tactical rope. Rafa found a hundred foot piece of 550 cord in a muted midnight blue and headed for the registers.
Pete and the manager never showed.
#
The cabin was in better shape than Emily remembered, even without Paul and Christa prepping it. It lay in a snow-covered meadow, its private ski lift stretching up the mountain behind it. The lights were already shining, enabled remotely by Christa. Slate gray clouds scudded overhead, promising fresh snowfall in the evening.
All in all, it looked just about perfect for a weekend getaway.
“I thought you said it was a cabin,” Rafa said. “That’s practically an estate.”
“It belongs to Christa’s parents. They rent it out sometimes, I think.” She parked the car and led Rafa to the front door.
It was even more gorgeous inside than out. A chandelier hung over the living room. Bearskin rugs lay on the floors. Wooden chairs and leather sofas were arranged around a massive fireplace.
“Wow,” Rafa said. “Sure beats Kabul.”
“They’ve upgraded since the last time I was here. I think the bedrooms are back this way.”
They moved deeper into the house. The first bedroom had a king-sized sleigh bed covered in a big, fuzzy blanket.
“ Muy bueno ,” Rafa said under his breath.
Emily smiled. “That’s the guest room.” She continued on,
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