Page 85 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

She checked her phone again. No calls or messages from Smitty. She’d given him an ultimatum the last time they’d spoken. If he was interested in a serious relationship, he’d be in her house. He’d be withher.

If Smitty thought he’d found a loophole to her demand for an all or nothing relationship, and was living out of his vehicle in order to keep tabs on her, she was going to kick his ass.

She opened the door and strode across the street. Five feet away from the Jeep, she realized the man sitting in it wasn’t Smitty.

She came to a stop.

Crap,now what?

The window rolled down. “Hello, Dr. Westward, are you looking for Smitty?” The man wasn’t wearing a uniform, but he did have a buzz cut and that direct, no nonsense gaze every military man she’d ever met owned.

She pinned a smile to her face. “Yes, I’m sorry, when I saw his Jeep I assumed... My apologies.”

“Not at all, he would have been here, but he had business to take care of at the base.”

Here, as in his Jeep, or her house?

She propped up the corners of her mouth. “Well, thank you for keeping an eye on things, but as you can see...” She made a show of looking up and down the empty street. “It’s not necessary.”

The man gave her an odd look, and said, “Just before dawn, three young men tried to get into your shed. I called the sheriff who came and arrested them for trespassing, but not before I had to strongly suggest they move along.”

“How strongly?”

“Nothing more than a few bruises on their part. No injuries on mine. I don’t think any of them were over twenty years old and had never been in a real fight before.”

She rubbed her face. “I see. I guess I’d better call the sheriff.” She turned to go, then spun back. “How long have you been watching over my place?”

“About eight hours. Someone should be here shortly to relieve me.”

“Relieve you,” she repeated. That damn Smitty had set up a rotating watch on her with his military friends. She tried smiling again, but her face felt too stiff. “Do you happen to have a phone number for Smitty? I’ve got a few questions for him.” And a few choice words.

“He told me to tell you that he put his number into your phone.”

Of course, he did. “Wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.” She marched back to her house and found her phone on her kitchen table. Someone had even charged it for her. Smitty’s name was listed in her contacts. She hit call and listened to it ring a couple of times before he picked up.

“Abby? Is everything okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who is the man on watch right now across the street?”

“That would be Carter. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Pull him out.”

“Do you have some kind of plan to keep people out of your yard?” His voice sounded careful.

“Not yet.”

“As soon as you do, I’ll pull the watch off your place.”

All of a sudden, she was ready to go back to bed, so she didn’t have to deal with all this shit. If he didn’t want to be with her, he needed to move on, so she could move on. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Are you... feeling okay?” Again with the careful voice.

Abruptly, she was tired of every well-meaning sentiment and pat on the arm. Tired of people and their stupid assumptions. Tired of trying to figure out what they really meant.

“I just got up and I’m already exhausted.” That was probably the wrong thing to say. He’d interpret that as a call for help. “I’m going to talk to the sheriff and get my security issues figured out. Bye Smitty.” She hung up.

The phone call to the sheriff’s office gave her the general gist of things. While she’d been recovering, the press had mostly gone home, with only one or two left hoping to speak to her.

---