Chapter Two - Madden

I shamelessly watched Ansley watch down the stairs in front of me and toward the passenger seat of my pickup. It’d been years since I’d seen her, and time had been good to her.

Mr. Sanders mentioned she worked part-time as a fitness trainer and seeing her, I understood. She looked good enough to eat. But, that was one meal I’d have to skip if I wanted to keep my balls.

Her Dad wasn’t going for that, and it wasn’t the reason I was hired. I needed to get this prick off her back and make it safe.

What a coward, threatening a woman.

She hopped into the passenger seat and pointed us in the direction of the cell phone store. I could remember when Ansley and her grandmother had the wreck that took her leg. The tears in her eyes lying in that hospital bed would break anyone’s heart.

I also remembered her dad giving her a pep talk and the way it soared her confidence. Ansley never took shit from anyone, which it didn’t surprise me, that she broke it off with what’s-his-face so easily.

Ansley got out by herself and I groaned, catching her at the front of the pickup. “We need to establish rules.”

She huffed. I watched the irritation grow over her face and the tip of her slender nose turn red. A splay of freckles laid across the bridge and it made her look irresistibly cute. She wasn’t used to being told what to do. “Okay, then, G.I. Joe, let’s hear ’em.”

“Don’t call me that,” I spat. “Rule number one. You are not to go anywhere without me, or talking to me about it first. Rule number two. You can’t tell anyone why I’m here. Rule number three. Don’t let your guard down for anything. Marcus is pissed and it’s fresh. He could be watching us right now.”

Ansley glanced around. “Well, isn’t it your job to make sure he isn’t, sergeant?”

I tightened my jaw. Where did this mouth come from? I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it, but it was annoying, especially since I couldn’t do anything about it.

“It’s my job to keep you safe. You follow those rules and it’ll make it easier for me to do my job.”

Ansley pushed past me and walked toward the cell phone store where she went through the process of changing her number. When we were finished, she followed me toward the truck and got in.

“Where do you eat supper?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Normally I eat in the cafeteria, but I assume they won’t let you in to eat without a card. I have some stuff at home.”

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“I’ll cook some pasta,” she mumbled, aggravation lined her voice. I hadn’t been home long when Mr. Sanders called and asked me for a favor.

I didn’t have anything else to do, and knowing myself I’d get bored quickly. This would keep me occupied with something more than a nine to five job for a while at least.

We parked and Ansley froze. “That’s his truck.”

I noticed the black Hummer parked right beside her small silver Honda. “He isn’t in it,” she said. “That means he is waiting upstairs.”

“He has a key?”

“No,” she said. “He … he knows how to pick locks. He did it for me once when I left my key inside.”

Great. A hellion.

“Follow me, and don’t speak to him, let me do the talking.”

Ansley nodded reluctantly and followed closely behind me. Her door stood cracked opened, which meant he made his way inside. I opened the door with my boot, hearing her small living room TV and noticed it shadowed over the walls.

“Made himself at home, didn’t he?” I mumbled.

Marcus sat on the loveseat, palms behind his head as if he owned the place. “About time,” he said, standing up to face us.

His dark eyes narrowed at the sight of me, and his jaw tightened. The guy stood over six foot, not as tall as me, but huge like a football player. I didn’t peg him to be big, for not being in sports, but I could tell he hit the gym as regularly as Ansley.

Marcus cleared his throat loudly. After reading his background check, I found out that his mother, a Caucasian woman, had been in and out of jail her entire life, while his dad was linked to the Mexican cartel.

He looked a lot like the pictures of his dad I pulled up. Tall, Spanish and overall charming to be honest.

Except for the anger issues apparently.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You just broke into Ansley’s apartment. You don’t live here, and I don’t want to see you in here again.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” he asked. “Shoot me? You one of those military jarheads like her family?”

I felt Ansley start to step out from behind me, but I stopped her with my arm. He chuckled, even his laugh dripped I’m better than you. From the polo shirt and hundred dollar jeans, it seemed those actuations about the cartel could be true for his family.

“Isn’t it obvious that death threats aren’t taken lightly, especially for a military family? I suggest you get out before I make you.”

Marcus chuckled. “You think I’m afraid of you? You’ll regret this,” he said, pointing his finger at Ansley.

I stepped in his way. “Get out.”

Marcus’s eyes were wild, like a teenager with a gun and a chip on his shoulder. Slowly, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shoved past us, slamming the door on the way out.

Ansley let out a shaky breath and wiped her palm over her forehead. “Oh God.”

“And you thought he wasn’t a threat, Ansley? Now, I have to ask, what the hell do you see in him?”

She shrugged and sat down on the corner of the living room table. “He was nice, and persistent. Obviously he didn’t treat me like this at first.”

I glanced at her door and walked over to lock the dead bolt, which obviously wouldn’t do any good. “Why don’t you start on that pasta and I’ll work on getting you a new lock from the apartment manager.”

Ansley nodded, and started pulling out pots and pans. I walked down to the office door and spoke with the property owner. Mr. Sanders told him what happened and he agreed to let me stay until we figured something out. He promised to get a new lock and key by tomorrow.

Ansley pulled garlic bread out of the oven when I walked back in and my stomach turned at the smell. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman cooked anything for me, needless to say, anyone.

I sat at the dining table and opened my folder.

I added arrogant jackass to my list.

Ansley hummed to herself while stirring in the pasta sauce. “Make your plate,” she said, handing me a dish.

I stood up, made my plate and sat across from her. She twirled her fork around the pasta as she did when she was young. “Do you still play shortstop?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I have practice tomorrow after classes.”

“That’ll be fun to watch.”

“What are we going to tell people?” she asked. “They are going to notice a guy is following me around. What do I say?”

I shrugged. “It’s no one’s business, Ansley.”

“I can’t lie to my friends, Madden.”

I glanced up. “Yeah, you can, and you will. Tell ’em we’re lab partners or something.”

She gave me a deadpanned look. “A lab partner that follows me around like a puppy dog? Right. The last time I checked that makes you the stalker, not Marcus. He is gonna tell his friends and it isn’t going to be good.”

Ansley got up and grabbed us both a bottle of water. I unscrewed the top and took a long gulp. “What’s wrong with his friends?”

“Noting, they’re just douchebags and I don’t think he is gonna let it be easy for either of us. He’s gonna suspect we’re together and I’m scared he’ll act out.”

Ansley was more afraid than she let on to her dad. I took another bite. “You don’t trust me?” I asked.

She glanced up from her food. Her hazel eyes meeting mine. “I trust you, I just don’t want you to have to deal with him and his friends, Madden.”

I moaned when I slurped another noodle into my mouth. “This is good,” I said.

She sighed but continued eating her food until her plate was empty. When she finished, she picked up her plate but I stopped her. “You cooked, I clean,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to shower and do some homework, you can watch TV or do whatever it is that you do.”

I didn’t do much. I couldn’t remember the last TV show I liked watching, or the last time I’d seen a movie. The military was my life and had been for a long time.

When I enlisted my parents were sad, mostly my mother, because she knew my mindset was to dive into my current situation head first, and apparently she was right and I ended up staying there.

They didn’t even know I was home, and wouldn’t until this Marcus crap was over. I put up the leftovers and washed the plates. Ansley’s place was scarce of furniture or personal items. It was definitely the military family background.

She didn’t grow up with a mother that decorated their house or put up pictures. The only thing personal sitting around the room was her high-school diploma on her small entertainment center.

She had weights in the corner of the room, and protein powder and workout supplement in her cabinets. It wasn’t the average college-aged girl for sure.

The bathroom door opened and shut, and I watched her hurry across the hallway in her towel. I couldn’t imagine a man seducing her to be honest. It would be a persistent person to catch her attention.

The I don’t believe anything you’re saying look always lingered on her face, even in high school. She emerged several minutes later with a towel and wash cloth. “Here you go. I get up early for a run; I hope you’re up for it.”

I grabbed the towels. “Thank you. I hope you’re ready to eat my dust,” I said.

A small smile tugged at her mouth. “We’ll see.”

***

Ansley walked out of her room in a pair of black Nike shorts and a bright red sports bra. A look of shock traveled over her face.

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t think you’d be up.”

I sighed, giving her a good side-eye. “So, you were going to run without me?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled, taking out her headphones. Her eyes briefly traveled over my torso, but she hid it quickly by retying her shoe.

Send me to Hell for looking. Ansley took care of herself and it showed like a neon sign. She tied her dark chocolate hair into a high ponytail and it still hit the middle of her back.

No wonder she drew attention everywhere she went.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked. I lifted my eyes from her shapely torso to her hardened hazel eyes. Sometimes it was too easy to forget that she wore a prosthetic leg. Sure, you saw it, but when the rest of her looked the way it did, it was easy to miss.

She took offense to staring because of her leg, just as she did the comment from the day before. That comment had nothing to do with her prosthetic leg, but how good the other one looked.

For a brief moment, I wondered what it would look like wrapped around my waist, but I valued my health enough to know to drop the thought. Mr. Sanders wouldn’t be happy, and an unhappy Mr. Sanders wasn’t in anyone’s best interest.

This wasn’t a potential love connection, and I needed to get it out of my head quickly.

“Nothing,” I said.

She pressed her fists against her hips. “First, you call me legs and then you stare at me?”

She’s not going to let it go.

I groaned, and slid my palm down my face in annoyance. She wore her insecurities on her sleeve. “I wasn’t looking at your leg, Ansley. I was looking at you.”

I gestured toward her half-naked body in front of me. “It was my fault. I won’t let it happen again. Are you ready?”

Ansley was silent for a brief moment. “Oh, okay, yeah, let’s go.”

She did a quick walk out of the door and into the parking lot. “I run along the high-way toward the first bridge and then back. Keep up if you can,” she said.

I followed behind her, watching her ponytail swing to keep my eyes from wondering. She powered through a good forty-five minutes, laughing when I tried to race her at the end.

When we got back to her apartment, she went straight to take a shower and got ready for classes. While she dressed, I rinsed off and pulled on my camo pants and shirt.

“You’re not wearing that,” she said from the kitchen. She sat down two bowls of oatmeal and blueberries for us.

I glanced down at my outfit, the only thing that fit me since my last tour. “It’s all I have, you’ll get over it.” I pulled out a chair and took a seat. Ansley slid her tongue across her teeth before sitting down in front of me. She seemed to be in a hurry, so I finished quickly and followed her lead.

Her class schedule was hellish.

Since she was in her second year, her classes were still mandatory classes like math and science. Ansley grabbed our bowels and put them in her sink. When she bent over in the refrigerator, I watched the way her blue jeans molded to her curves.

Her purple LSU shirt was tucked into the front, showing her small waist. “Are you ready to go?” she asked. “We have a full schedule today. I hope you can keep up, Joe.”

“All my books and softball equipment are in my car, so we need to drive it, because I don’t have time to move everything.”

“Fine,” I said, opening her door and trying to get inside. “Whoever was in here last is height challenged,” I mumbled.

She smirked. “Jenny was in here last. She’s my friend, you’ll meet her soon, she’s in my classes.”

I scooted back and stretched my legs.

We rode to class in silence. I noticed quickly that Ansley was nervous. “Stop tapping your fingers, it’s just class. I won’t even sit right by you if you don’t want me to.”

She nodded but ignored me.

“What is it?” I asked.

She glanced over with fear on her face. “Marcus has this class with me.”

“Seriously? You didn’t think I’d need to know that?” I dug through my folder and pulled out her schedule. “Tell me which classes y’all have together.”

She rattled off three of the four classes for the day.

“Are you both business majors?” I asked.

“No, he wanted to spend time with me, so he got the same schedule.”

I cringed. This guy must suffer from separation anxiety. “Okay,” I said lightly. “Let’s do this.”

A petite girl with a pretty smile and bleached blonde hair waited for Ansley in a specific parking space. She jumped as she pulled in and froze when she noticed me get out.

Her and Ansley exchanged glances. “This is Madden. Madden this is Jenny.”

“Uh, hi,” she said, giving me a small wave.

I noticed her cheerleading skirt from underneath an over-large LSU sweater. “Hi,” I said taking her hand.

Some guy walked up behind Jenny, holding his finger to his face, and swopped her up, making her scream. He wore a football jersey, and cowboy boots.

“Jenny Minnie,” he said, planting a kiss on her.

He glanced up and grinned. His shaggy blonde hair rested right above his heavy-lidded eyes. If I were to guess, he was high as Hell. “Dude, I’m Beau, who’s the G.I Joe?”

That must be the best insult anyone could come up with around here. I offered him a handshake. “I’m Madden.”

“Like the game!” he said, slinging his arm around Jenny’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” I gave Ansley a look. “Like the game.”

“Awesome,” he said, taking my hand.

Ansley gave me a look but started toward her class. I followed closely behind her. Jenny stayed on her heels in an attempt to get her attention, but her boyfriend—Beau—held her hand and spoke to everyone that we passed.

Jenny gave me a quick glance over her shoulder, but hurried to look the other way. This was going to be interesting.

By the time we got to our seats in whatever class this was, I’d been stared at multiple times. I slid into a spot next to Ansley and sighed. She gave me the side eye. “Jenny asked if you were my new side piece.”

I chuckled. “What a lady.”

Ansley laughed, and shook her head.

“What’s this class?”

“Human sexuality.”

I couldn’t stop my smile.

Ansley leaned in and whispered, “Maybe you’ll learn something. You should pay attention.”

I turned to face her. “I don’t need any help in that department.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Good, it shouldn’t.

The front double doors to the theater used as a classroom opened and Marcus walked in. His eyes went straight to mine and held as he made his way up the slopped staircase.

“You’re in my seat,” he said.

I glanced up, noting our audience. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

Marcus laughed, knocking Ansley’s notebook off her desk. “I suggest you find another seat, Marcus, because if I get up it’ll be to whoop your ass.”

“Mr. Ortega, take a seat before I kick you out.”

The Professor, I couldn’t place his name because we’d talked to all of them, stood at the podium. His shoulder length black hair tied at the nape of his neck, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other held his glasses.

Mr. Sanders called him the Pretty Boy Professor. Apparently, the girls in the school all secretly crushed on him.

Marcus chuckled lightly but went and took a seat on the opposite side of the classroom. Ansley lowered her head and covered her forehead with her palm, slowing sinking lower into her seat.

The Professor gave me a slight nod and turned on his projector.

“Take out a blank sheet of paper and answer the question on the board, and get your homework out for me to collect.”

Which group engages in the most sexual activity?

Ansley wrote down her answer and flipped it over while digging out her homework. I glanced at her answer. Married couples.

She slid her palm over her paper and gave me a look. “Don’t embarrass me.”

I chuckled and raised my palms up in surrender. The class itself was interesting enough, not including the drama of Marcus at the beginning. He bolted out of the classroom as soon as the professor turned off his projector.

Ansley took her time, waiting on Jenny to leave before exiting. We made it to the parking lot when I noticed her car’s tire was flat.

A screwdriver stuck out of the side of it.

She sighed. “Here we go.”