Fighting Redemption(63)

Fin sighed, rubbing at her brow. She’d have to shuffle things around at work and she had a report due. “That’s fine.”

Trudy rattled off the exact date and time, and after committing it to memory, Fin hung up the phone and tossed it carelessly across the bed.

She lifted up onto her elbow and peeked out the blinds of the front window. His car was still gone. Did Ryan go back to base?

Sitting up, a wave of nausea rocked her and she leaned over, moaning. Shit. She grabbed at her phone again with a sigh and rang in at work to let them know she wouldn’t be in. Now what? Was she supposed to sit idly around in bed and wait for Ryan to call? Thumbing through her contacts, she dialled again.

“Fin,” came the breathless reply.

“What are you doing?” she asked Rachael.

“Fuck, shit, dammit,” Rachael replied, exasperation making her voice sharp.

“What?”

“I’ve just ripped a hole in my spare pair of stockings, and when I ironed my skirt this morning, it left a long brown stain down the back. I think I need a new iron. And a new skirt,” she added.

“Okay.”

“So what are you doing ringing me on a Monday morning. Been at the office for hours already and finished for the day?”

“No, I’m not working today.”

“Day off?” Fin heard stomping. “Dammit. I’m out of milk. Why did I get out of bed this morning? Remind me.”

“Because you have an obscene love of foreign tax that does wild things to your girly bits?”

Rachael snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Actually, I don’t feel so good. Taking a sick day today.”

Fin could almost hear Rachael’s jaw dropping open as the sound of a fridge door slamming shut came through the line. “But … you never take a sick day. Remember that time when you spent the morning vomiting in your recycling bin and they forced me to come collect you? That was gross. Don’t do that again.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I just feel sick. I don’t know.”

“Well tell Ryan to make you a nice cup of umm … what tea is good for when you feel sick?”

“He’s not here.”

“Training exercise again? Christ, they do a lot of those.”

“No,” she mumbled. “We had a fight last night and he left.”

“What do you mean he left? Is he coming back?”

“I’m not sure.” Fin tried to be pissed off, but it wasn’t happening. She just felt tired. “Go to work, Rachael. I’ll talk to you a bit later, okay?”

“Ring me later,” she demanded.

Fin hung up the phone with another sigh and dragged herself out of bed to feed Crookshanks.





Ryan groaned as the alarm beside the bed screamed wildly. He was going to smash the bloody thing and bury it in the backyard behind Fin’s veggie patch. Only half awake, he rolled over and planted his fist in it hard. The shrieking increased, bringing him fully awake. He took in the small room at the barracks and remembered why he was here and not in bed with Fin, running his hands over her smooth, bare skin, letting the warmth of it seep into his bones and take the chill of his nightmares away.

Yesterday morning seemed like a lifetime ago.



“What’s the time?” Fin whispered, her voice husky as her eyes fluttered open, the bright green glimmering in the morning light.

Ryan grinned sleepily. “Mr. Wolf.”

She chuckled softly and his heart tugged at the sound.

He reached out and ran the tip of his finger slowly down her nose, his eyes following the gentle touch before he met her eyes. “It’s not quite dinnertime, but I can still have you for breakfast.”

Ryan rolled her over, pinning her arms to the bed, loving how she squirmed beneath him.



Getting to his feet, he ripped the cord from the socket and threw the clock across the room with a growl. Fists clenched and chest heaving, he watched it smash apart against the wall.

“Hey!” someone shouted and pounded back on the other side of the wall.

“Fuck,” he moaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes as a brisk knock came at his door.

“Enter.”

The door swung open and Monty appeared, his eyes taking in the shattered clock without a flicker of emotion. “Brooks said you were here.”

Ryan rolled his shoulders, wincing at all the knots that lived there. “He been flapping his mouth off?”

Monty’s brows drew together as he folded his arms. “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“Shit,” Ryan muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “I need some clothes.”

“I’ll have some sent in, so get yourself organised. It’s Monday morning PT then we’re off to the rifle range.”

Monty disappeared and Ryan searched the room for his phone, having no idea when he last saw it. He was on his hands and knees, peering under the bed when he heard a thump from above. He looked up and saw Kyle dumping a set of clothes on his bed.

He smirked at Ryan. “You can look all you like, but you’ll never find your balls under there.”

“Har har.” Ryan got to his feet. “Have you seen my phone? I can’t find the f*cker.”