Missing Lynx by Fiona Quinn Read Free Book Online

you, Chica. I imagined better timing and a different setting.” He kept his hands to himself. “Though I’m sure you’re not surprised, I imagine hearing it said out loud so abruptly is what has you upset.”
    I shook my head. I wanted him to go away.  
    “This wasn’t the right time,” he pressed on, “but Spyderman asked me a direct question, and you told me you think of him as your second father. I respect him too much; he needed to hear my intentions are honorable. I needed to be clear with him.”
    I sat in silence, staring at the green wall. Numb.
    “There’s no pressure on you. I mean…you don’t have to love me back. I’m not asking anything from you.”
    I turned to him. “Striker, I need to get out of here.” I said under my breath.
    “Okay. Sure.”
    We walked in silence to the parking garage. Striker opened the car door for me and walked around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and sat with his hands on the wheel. “Chica, I’d really like you to say something. Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”
    I took a deep breath in and let the air hiss back out. “I never saw his body.”
    Striker stilled.
    “Do you know how weird that is? Here we are in December. Angel left me at the end of February last year, and I knew I wouldn’t see him again for a long time. I steeled myself for the long haul.” I swallowed and rubbed my thumb into my palm. “At first we got to talk and pass messages sporadically. Then he went on a mission. He was gone for months with no communication. Every day I imagined where he went — what he did.”
    Striker’s unwavering gaze warmed me with his concern.
    “Then two men in uniforms stood with their hats in their hands and their damned expert, low-toned voices telling me Angel was dead. Blown up by an IED. In nine months I went from ‘I do’ to ‘death do us part’.” My thumb worked convulsively, kneading into my hand trying to smooth the life line on my palm. An apt metaphor, I’d like my life line to run smoother. I took a few deep breaths; I felt dizzy and nauseated. “They sent me a pine box, and they said my husband was in the box. I guess I have to take them at their word since it was sealed; his remains ‘unrecognizable,’ they said. Identified by his tags and dental records.”
    “You’d have better closure had you seen Angel’s body.”
    I nodded. “Cognitive dissonance. My brain is playing me.”
    “I can’t even imagine.”
    I twisted my wedding ring around my finger. “Striker? When did you know you were in love with me?”
    “Honestly?” Striker started to reach for me then pulled his hand back and laid it on his thigh. Good. I wasn’t ready to be touched. “I felt a pull right from the beginning, when I met you in the hospital after the Wilson attack. I felt it a little bit more each day we had you holed up in the safe house,” he said. “I guess the thing that sent me over the edge was when you told me the story about your special un-schooling studies with the hooker.”
    “Chablis? That’s what did it for you?” I felt the pink creep up my face.
    “The whole scene did it for me. The story about how you got married and your one-night honeymoon went to hell-in-a-hand basket, and you ended up still a virgin with your husband gone to war. And as a teen, you wanted to make sure the man of your future would be happy. So much so, that you thought getting lessons from a hooker and practicing on a purple dildo was just a normal thing to do.” Striker looked like he was working hard to keep from smiling. “All of it. You were such a dichotomy of innocence and femme fatale. I was completely charmed, and fell completely in love.” 
    “Has this been hard on you?” I whispered, wide eyed.
    “My feelings for you have been inappropriate, and I’ve tried to control them. But being around you…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Figuring out the boundaries is awkward. I never wanted anything to happen to