Lost and Found Pieces 2 Read online

  Lost and Found Pieces 2

  J.M. Madden

  Acknowledgments

  My readers are incredible! Thank you so much for being there, waiting patiently, to read anything I put out. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.

  Sandie, as always, thank you for being the woman you are.

  Mark, I love you dearly. Thank you for allowing me to follow my heart and put as much love into the world as I can. Happy 23rd Anniversary babe!

  Copyright © 2020 by J.M. Madden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Return of the Warrior

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  A Family Affair

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Oh, Louie

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue

  Christmas Raine

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Also by J.M. Madden

  Return of the Warrior

  When I write stories, I don’t like to think about it being the end of a couple. I prefer to dream that they continue on and everything is hearts and puppies and good stuff.

  And sometimes I write about couples that I just can’t forget. After I finished Flat Line, which was more than 2 years ago, I immediately started Mac and Roz’s story. I knew it wouldn’t be a full romance but they needed…something. Some happy wrap-up because they’d been through so much. Maybe I just needed hope that all was not lost when it came to Roz. She had a harsh backstory but she was still fighting, so she deserved to have a light at the end of the tunnel.

  Copyright © 2020 by J.M. Madden Return of the Warrior

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  “Get off me, you damn cat.”

  The super fluffy gray tortoiseshell cat went boneless when she tried to pick it up, and Roz let out a frustrated huff, on the verge of tears. Why wouldn’t anything go her way?

  Leaving the cat on the end of the couch, she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head against the cushion. Tears burned at her eyes but she was determined not to cry anymore. She was so sick of crying. It had been three months since they’d left Columbus, and the replay of that night was just as clear now as it was the night after it had happened. The sudden wrenching of her body from the bed, the incredibly strong arm around her neck, and the paralyzing, choking fear as she felt the muzzle of the gun against her temple.

  It had only taken a couple of minutes for the entire incident, but at the time the seconds had elongated into what felt like years as she waited for rescue, again. That incident hadn’t been the first time she’d been in danger.

  She drew in a breath and forced her mind away from the first time she was attacked, while working her shift at Riverside Hospital. In the state she was in it would completely wreck her if she replayed it. In less than four hours she needed to head down the mountain and be productive, and replaying these traumas wasn’t going to help her do that. She’d begun working at the county health department, in the pediatric section. Just a few hours here and there to keep her certifications up, and the children weren’t threatening.

  Working in the clinic forced her to get out and act like a human being. If she wasn’t careful, she would crumble into dust and waste away up on this mountain. No, Mac wouldn’t let her.

  Even as she thought his name, she heard Mac leave his room, walk down the hallway, through the living room and into the kitchen. He moved softly considering how big he was, but she’d gotten used to every sound that this house and the surrounding mountain made. Mac had become a part of her security lexicon and she wondered if he had any idea how very important to her he was. She watched him walk through the dark living room and into the kitchen.

  The tap turned on and she could tell he was filling the kettle. As he waited for the water to heat, he would get two mugs out of the cupboard and rest the tea bags inside. On nights like this she needed a calming herbal tea. No doubt he would go for his favorite orange ginger.

  Mac had turned out to be an excellent roommate. He’d saved her life in Andromeda’s townhouse. Well, he and Parker Quinn, Andromeda’s former Navy SEAL flame. The four of them had been in Andromeda’s high-rise townhouse when the patriarch of the terror cell that had taken so many lives had broken into Andromeda’s home to kill her for prosecuting his son. Things hadn’t turned out the way the man expected, though. First, Roz had swung a fist down into his groin. Then Mac had punched him in the head so hard he’d sent the man into a coma. He’d been out for the count, but she couldn’t force herself to respond to her training and check on him. Fuck him.

  Three men had broken into Andromeda’s place that night to kill them. Parker had killed one, Mac another, and the third had been taken out on a stretcher. The danger was gone. Literally. Same with the man that had attacked her years ago, who was now in prison and would be for a very long time to come. They were three hundred miles away from where the incidents had happened, but she still woke up every night feeling the gun pressed to her temple, or smelled the reek of Coughlin’s breath as he held her down on the linoleum floor. Some nights she would be able to shake it off, roll over and go back to sleep. But about once a week she had a dream that left her in cold sweats, her heart racing and her gut churning. Those nights she had to get up to re-center herself.

  And on those nights, Mac seemed to sense that something was amiss in the house. Maybe he heard the deadbolt turn on her bedroom door, or the creak of the hallway boards. Somehow, he always knew when she had to get up to chase the demons away and he was there, just on the fringes making sure she was comfortable with tea and blankets and companionship.

  Mac never required her to talk, though, either. After he set the tea on the end table, he would move to his favorite chair with whatever book he was reading at the time. If she said something, he was willing to talk, otherwise he just sat with her companionably until she was ready to head back to her bedroom.

  Roz watched Mac walk into the room. Right now, he wore a soft tan t-shirt and a pair of green plaid sleep pants. They were a little short for his long legs and she wondered if she could release the hem on them.

  Frowning, she looked down into the cup he handed her. The tea was rich and dark and she knew it would be perfectly sweet, just like she liked it. “Thank you,” she told him.

  Mac moved to the chair that he liked. The book he’d been reading the night before sat on the end table and he picked it up when he sank into the chair. He gave her a smile, his dark, stubbled cheeks moving.

  Zane Mackenzie was a true gentle giant, and a gentleman. Yes, he was a former Green Beret, and she could totally see him going in and helping out a community in a war-torn country. He’d said that they’d done things that he didn’t agree with, though. She didn’t know if he meant politically or what, and she wasn’t going to ask. If he wanted to volunteer the information, he could.

  Over the past few months, she’d grown used to having
him in the house. He was a calming presence and helped to ease some of her paranoia. After the initial attack several years ago, she’d been hyper-vigilant about her safety. She’d bought this West Virginia mountain hideaway to get away from the craziness of real life in Atlanta, where she moved after the attack. Yes, she loved and needed the serenity, but she also knew that the chances of some man finding her up here were slim to none. And if they did find her, she always greeted trespassers with a loaded shotgun, as Mac found out.

  Almost three months ago her friend Andromeda had brought Mac and Parker Quinn, a wounded former SEAL to her hideaway. Mac was a witness to a terrorist attack in a case that Andromeda was prosecuting, and she was doing her level best to keep Mac safe. Parker had been injured getting Mac out of Columbus.

  It had been a chaotic day. Andromeda had been to the cabin many times, but Roz had struggled with the men being in her space. Parker’s gunshot wound had been an excellent distraction, and her skills had kicked in like she’d never left emergency care. At the time she was volunteering a day or two a week, but it was mundane stuff compared to gunshot wounds. She’d gotten excited working on Parker, and it was part of the reason why she was picking up extra hours at the health clinic now. Working on him had sparked some excitement in her. Could she walk back into an emergency department and kick ass? Probably not right this second, but she’d gotten back a tiny bit of the passion she’d lost.

  Andromeda would be thrilled. Roz appreciated the younger woman’s concern, but it wasn’t like she was going to waste away on the mountain. This place, her place, soothed her like nothing else ever had.

  And, she realized, Mac soothed her as well. He was former military, which she loved. If something happened on the mountain, she thought he would definitely be an asset. Already he’d taken over a lot of the day to day running of the cabin. He stocked wood and made sure the generator was full, and he did about half of the cooking and all of the shopping. The man had settled in like a roommate should, and he seemed content. He was on his computer a lot working on a biology paper he wanted to have published. There had also been mention of a book, but she wasn’t sure if he was working on it yet or not. She’d kind of been lost in her own world, dealing with the attacks and trying to maintain her sanity.

  If she was honest with herself, which her therapist prodded her to do all the time, she was having issues because of him. Recently she’d been noticing things— manly things— that she hadn’t noticed in a long time. As a rape survivor, she thought it was amazing that she could even acknowledge the handsomeness of a man. Whether he meant to or not, Mac was knocking on that awareness door.

  It had started when he’d walked out of the bathroom one day, his beard shaved down to a short stubble. Roz had done a doubletake, because she was so used to the grizzly man. Mac wasn’t unclean by any means— he always took care with his appearance and person— but an unkempt beard sometimes tended to make the rest of the person appear unkempt. So, it was a shock to see all the crazy reddish-brown hair gone.

  The first thing her gaze had zeroed in on were his lips. Then it had been a struggle to drag it away. Mac had very nice lips, fuller on the bottom than the top. And when he grinned at her shocked face, she realized he had a beautiful smile, as well.

  “You have teeth!” she’d exclaimed without thinking.

  Mac had rocked his head back and belly laughed like she’d never heard anyone else do, and it had brought her out of her funk enough to make her smile as well. Then something had happened. Some awareness had sparked as they looked into each other’s eyes, lost in laughter, and she’d gotten scared.

  “The beard cut looks good,” she admitted, before turning away.

  That had been a few weeks ago. Since then she’d begun to be aware of other things— the sprinkling of hair on his strong arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the way the sun glinted off his bright blue eyes as he carried groceries up onto her porch. Then, the other day when it was especially warm, he’d taken his shirt off while he chopped wood. Roz had gone to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and she’d glanced out of the kitchen window, then been caught by the sweat glistening on his straining muscles as he slammed the axe down into the wood, over and over again. Though they’d been living together for weeks now, it was the most undressed she’d ever seen him. He’d never articulated it outright, but she’d been aware of his care around her. He never appeared undressed in any way, and he was very cautious not to move abruptly. Though his voice could boom, he spoke to her softly. Roz knew that he was walking on eggshells around her because of her past experience with men, and in a way, she appreciated it. But, in a contrary way she hated that she had to be coddled like that.

  Looking out over the yard, she realized she literally couldn’t drag her gaze away from his form. The baggy clothing that he wore and the vest with all its pockets camouflaged the man beneath, and again she had a shock. Mac was built like a brick shithouse. Muscles strained across his auburn-furred chest, and his stomach, surprisingly trim, shifted and twisted with the arc of the axe. His broad hands were wrapped around the haft of the axe. That particular tool was a lot for her to handle, but it looked small to him.

  Her gaze followed his movements for several minutes, just watching and appreciating.

  What the hell was she doing, looking at him like this? Noticing how the hair of his chest trailed down his stomach and beneath the waistband of his jeans. She had no business looking at him like he was a stripper to be ogled. He was a friend, and a protector.

  The guilt swept in then, just like it always did. She was very good at creating situations where the guilt and recriminations rolled in her direction, and she wasn’t sure how to get out of the loop. She felt guilty that she was up here on the mountain while her son was in Atlanta. Yes, he was going to college and wanted to be left alone, but that didn’t change the emotion. She felt guilty that she had a vast knowledge of emergency medicine that she wasn’t using. The local hospital had begged for her to apply when they’d learned of her presence, but the thought of going back into a hospital like that sent cold terror through her, along with the guilt for feeling that terror.

  It was ridiculous the loop of emotions that she went through on a daily basis.

  Guilt that she was drawn to Mac would now have to be added to her mental list.

  Chapter Two

  Something had happened recently, and he wasn’t sure exactly what. Roz was looking at him strangely. Had he said or done something that put her on edge? He wracked his brain trying to remember but nothing came to mind.

  There was a contemplative light in her eyes, though, that made his body respond, which he knew had to be a misread on his part. Roz had no interest in him as a man, she’d made that very clear. She viewed him as a generic, protective roommate, good for groceries and chopping wood and taking out the occasional terrorist. Mac couldn’t even be offended because he’d been aware of his situation when he’d left Columbus with her.

  When he’d shaved his beard down, she had finally looked at him as more than the nutty professor people thought him to be. Even Andromeda called him the nutty professor, which was fine. He had nothing to prove. It would be nice if Roz could look beyond that generalization, though.

  That day he thought she had. There had been something in her beautiful eyes, some spark of… appreciation? Maybe? He didn’t know. Rosalind was a difficult woman to read. But Mac was willing to wait for her to see what was in front of her.

  He never thought he’d be the type to moon over a woman, but he didn’t know any other way to describe what he felt for Roz. The woman was beautiful, her dark hair curling to her shoulders. There were a few silver threads running through it, but they gave her character. As did the faint lines around her bright blue eyes. Roz had experienced the good and bad of life, and it had left its mark on her, but she was still fighting. He knew she was dealing with a lot of emotional, heavy stuff right now, but he could only admire the strength at her core. She had to have warrior bl
ood in her.

  Cracking the book open on his lap, he leaned back the chair, waiting to see if she would talk. On nights like these, though she was upset, he loved the closeness of having someone to talk to in the depths of the night.

  “Your cat has no manners,” she said finally.

  Mac looked at Oliver. He wasn't a bad cat, just a starving stray that he’d found in the back alley behind his Columbus townhouse. But he’d been a solid companion for many years. “He knows when somebody is hurting,” Mac said.

  Roz look looked at the cat out of the corner of her eyes. "Is that why he jumps on me all the time?"

  "I'm sure," Mac said. "He's gotten me through a lot of long nights."

  Roz gave him a deliberate look. She knew he had bad nights as well and he was okay with that. If it brought her focus away from her own hurt, he would expose anything he needed to.

  “He’s okay, I suppose.”

  Mac grinned and reached for his tea. “He likes it up here. And I’m not sure if you noticed but he’s caught several moles and mice around the cabin.”

  Roz made a face. “Yes, I know," she said, “he keeps leaving the bodies on the front porch."

  Mac grinned again. “Hey, at least he's getting them."

  Roz looked at the cat contort into a position to lick his private parts, and she snorted. "I suppose."

  Max decided it was time to change the subject. "Did you talk to your son tonight?"