Out of Time: A Military Romance Read online

  "A what?"

  "You need to get dressed. Come with me."

  "Is it Ice? Is he okay? Chris?"

  "Get dressed," he said.

  She stepped back in horror. Chris came inside. She didn't wait another second. She raced to her suitcase to get her clothes. And she prayed that he was okay.

  Chapter Three

  Present - 7:45 A.M. December 23, 2016

  FiDi (Financial District) - Manhattan, New York

  Kevan 'Ice' Quinn chose a tall barstool next to a high-leg table. It faced the large picture window to the front of the cafe. He sipped his coffee. The place was congested with the morning rush from the business offices. It made no difference. His focus remained on the opaque glass that seemed to breathe in the coldness from outside and exhale it on all those gathered close to it. He wasn't sure if it was snow or that frosty imitation spray stuff in a can that covered the corners and the edges of the window. But after two weeks of coming to this same Starbucks and choosing this same seat, he knew he'd chosen the perfect place to watch and observe.

  Outside the window he could see the skyscraper across from him and the business suits going in and out of its doors. The streets of New York had every corner decorated with large wreaths, red bows, and silver bells. Just enough of the season to offer a hint of hope and ensure everyone felt the holiday cheer.

  In the beginning, when she was his, he'd wake up early upon his return home and walk six blocks to get her a cup of coffee from Ralphie's Café. Ralphie retired and moved to Miami Beach. The coffee shop had now become part of the Starbucks franchise. Still, he had hope that Asha remained a creature of habit and would eventually come through the door. He'd spent two weeks staking out this Starbucks, waiting. And he'd wait even longer if necessary.

  Asha wanted to be a different type of lawyer, one who fought against corporate greed in the banking industry. She had interned with a non-profit before taking the bar exam. He loved her convictions back then, before everything had changed.

  His bitterness and guilt over his best friend Thatch's death, and the death of his crew, consumed him. They fought, and they fought a lot. The more she tried to comfort him, the more he resented her and said things he could never take back. He took her concern and loving to be nothing more than an attempt to control his pain. Her trips to see him in Maine became fewer and fewer. He barely noticed. And when she asked for some time apart, he barely answered.

  And then the bottom fell out of his world. She had served him with divorce papers almost two years ago. He was out at sea with new recruits. When the outpost radioed in that a hand courier was refusing to leave he made a swift return. He was greeted in front of his crew and told his life with the only woman he'd ever been brave enough to love was over. And like a fucking idiot, he signed the papers and tossed them to the floor. Commander Shepherd brought them back over that night. He tried to persuade him not to give up on his marriage. But Ice had already given up on life. There were risks in his profession. All the men knew it. But he'd broken a commandment. He had gone against the wishes of his crew and put them in danger. And he had caused the deaths of five men. That was on him.

  To him, her inability to withstand his rage and depression made her a traitor. She had abandoned him. Turned on her promise to love him no matter what, in sickness and health, until death did they part. She was the one that failed the marriage. And he hated her for it at that moment. The next day he signed the divorce papers and dropped the envelope in the mail, believing that at the very least she’d find a man who could love her the way she deserved. The void in his heart seemed to fester and turn into something that couldn't heal. Not like the pain over his fuck-up. No, this was different. Drinking numbed it some, and he’d done his share of that. But soon even that substitute was fleeting and her face, laughter, the smell of butterscotch on her breath and in her skin haunted his sleep. And then a routine military-ordered checkup changed everything. Sobered him with reality instead of the dazed purgatory he existed in. It was the final hand God dealt him.

  Ice spent six months reflecting on his mistakes. A self-imposed isolation. And once again his baby came calling. Not the way he wished. The divorce was finalized. He had thought it was a done deal when he signed the papers. He refused an attorney and gave her anything she wanted. It just hurt too bad to see her face or hear her voice. Thankfully, she didn't touch his pension or savings. In fact, all she wanted was for him to come collect his things. And eventually she had them sent to his mother when he refused.

  Today he sat in Ralphie's, now called Starbucks, and waited. This was the day four years ago when he made the biggest mistake of their lives. This had to be the day where he fixed it. He was out of time.

  It was a long shot. Asha had changed. Using the few contacts he had left connected to her, he found that she had abandoned her crusade for good right around the time he abandoned their marriage emotionally. She was now a corporate lawyer for one of the biggest banks in New York, finding all the loopholes to keep the fat cats rich. And she had money, lots of it. According to her sorority sister she was traveling the world. Living the life he could never have given her.

  Ice checked his watch. It was eight o’clock. If he didn't find her in the cafe, then he'd have to take more desperate action and call her sister, her parents, even walk across the street and find her on his own. He didn't want to do that. But what choice did he have?

  "Hi? Anyone sitting here?" a soft voice said to his right. He glanced back over his shoulder. A brown-skinned beauty with long, straight hair framing her face from a center part smiled at him. He smiled back at her.

  "No," he said and moved so she could squeeze in to sit.

  "Whew! Thank you!" she said and grinned. "It's so cold out there. I swear, man, what I won't do for a pumpkin spice!"

  His gaze returned to the window and he continued to people-watch.

  "Peacoat!" she said.

  He glanced her way. She smiled prettily for him and blinked innocently as she sipped from her cup. "That's what we used to call them growing up. You know, the double-breasted wool coat style. I love them on men. It's a very classic look. What is it? Cole Haan?"

  "Old Navy," he mumbled.

  She laughed. He wasn't in the mood for laughter. Hadn't been in some time.

  "I know this is pretty forward of me, but you have the most unique eyes I've ever seen. I had to get close to make sure they were real. I saw you when I was walking on the sidewalk. You've been staring out of this window every day. I mean, I walk this way every morning before work. And every morning for the past two weeks I've seen you sitting here. Your eyes. What color are they?"

  "Metallic," he said.

  She giggled.

  "My name is Sharla." She extended her gloved hand.

  He shook it. "Nice to meet you, Sharla. I'm Kevan. My friends call me Ice."

  "Because of your eyes, right?" she asked.

  "Maybe."

  "Cute. You're really cute. You aren't a New Yorker, are you? Let me guess. You're from the South?" she asked.

  "Mississippi," he said.

  "Oh? And what? You a hedge fund raider now?"

  "Nope. Coast Guard... chopper pilot."

  "Are you fucking kidding me? Wow!" she said.

  He expected that reaction. Back when he first met his sweet baby, years ago, he remembered she had the same reaction. That made him smile.

  "So cool. What are you doing here? Christmas?"

  "Something like that," he said. Ice sipped his coffee and a cold sense of dread turned over in his stomach. What if she had already left for a fancy trip? He had to have faith that she hadn't. If she didn't walk through those doors, he'd never get this chance again.

  "Well, if you're new to town and want to hang out, I'm a good cook," she said.

  Ice glanced her way. It had been a long time since a woman cooked for him, let alone smiled at him the way she did. Ice had a type. It was his wife. But the beauty next to him was stroking a part of his wounded heart
where he was most vulnerable. Before he answered her, the door opened. Ice glanced up.

  From his dreams, Asha walked in. The wind tossed her hair, now much longer than he remembered, to the front of her face and she pushed it away with her gloved hand.

  Asha wore a long gray coat tied tightly around her waist. She had on a checkered grey and cranberry scarf tucked in the front of it. The large sunglasses over her eyes made no difference; he’d know his lady anywhere. She held her wine-colored leather crocodile briefcase in one hand and spoke on her cell phone with the other. It was her.

  Sharla turned on her stool and looked in the direction he was staring. "You know Ms. Quinn?" she asked.

  "Quinn? Ah, yeah, I know her."

  "Oh? M-kay, she's one of my many bosses, and I don't want her to see me in here," Sharla said. "Nice meeting you Ice; here's my card." Ice barely accepted it. "Give me a call sometime."

  Ice mumbled a goodbye and stared at Asha. He'd played this moment over in his head so many times. Why was he frozen now, unsure what to say or do next? And then Asha ended the call and stepped forward in the line. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, as if she were looking for someone. Ice's heart was in his throat. He stood and prepared to make the walk over to her when he saw her smile and wave her hand at a person arriving. Ice paused. A black man walked in and passed the others waiting in line. He went over to Asha. His wife accepted a kiss to the cheek and a overly friendly embrace. This man was tall and dark-skinned, with a shaven head, and sharply dressed. He put his arm around her shoulder, and this time he leaned in again for a kiss and she gave him one. It was the first time he'd ever seen Asha even remotely respond to another man. His blood boiled in his veins. Ice gripped his coffee cup so tightly the Styrofoam cracked, spilling hot liquid into his hand. He jumped back and the attractive blonde to the left of him talking on her cell phone looked over to him, concerned.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asked.

  “Shit!” he muttered and tossed the cup into the trash. He looked back up and his sweet baby was gone. Panicked, he turned to go after her but saw she had stepped to the side to wait on her order with her companion. He froze at the display of affection, and then backed up into the shelter of patrons, to avoid being spotted.

  “Are you okay?” the blond asked again. She looked at his hand that was red from the burn of the coffee. He felt nothing. Just the big kick to his gut of his wife being with another man. The woman handed him tissues to clean himself. The lady was making too much of a scene. Asha could glance his way and he would be busted with coffee stains on his jeans and shoes.

  “I’m fine,” he grunted. He peeked up again when he heard Asha's laugh. And the asshole kissed her brow. Were they fucking? His pride and ego would never let him accept the thought of another man. He had to move the rock of Gibraltar to get between her legs, and now she was with this clown? He wasted two fucking years! How many men had come after him? Ice felt his temper swell in his chest like an inflated balloon on the verge of popping.

  Asha’s sunglasses were now in her hair. The man with her, who had a deep voice that could be heard across the room, ran his hand down her back. Up and down. It made Ice crazy with envy.

  The kid behind the counter gave them their order of coffee. The asshole, who in Ice’s eyes had stolen her affections, paid as she sipped the steaming liquid. Instead of a scanning her surroundings she was again looking at her phone. Then they left. The man pulled her by the hand while she sipped the coffee. Ice went after them. But there were too many fucking people in New York. Immediately he was swallowed by a moving tide of side walkers. They bumped and pushed their way past him. He looked north and south, unable to make her out. Feeling a sense of panic, he squinted at the flurries that began to drift downward lazily from the heavens, caught in the wind, and flew in his face.

  “Shit!” he mumbled again. "What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck! Fuck!" he shouted. Several others gave him a frown but kept walking past him. How could he be so fucking stupid to just let her walk out and not do anything? Two weeks of waiting and this was his reaction. And then he looked up to see them cross the street at the end of the sidewalk. They were heading to her office building.

  Ice reacted. He rushed out blindly into the street, desperate to catch her. The loud horn of a cab shocked his senses back into him, and he jumped back, narrowly avoiding being a casualty. He threw his hands up to cars barreling toward him. He ran up the sidewalk, pushing past people who didn’t move fast enough to clear his way. He could think of nothing but finding her, nothing more than telling her his heart and finding a way to have her again. When he entered, he was overwhelmed by the corporate shuffle, as others hustled past him dragging their laptop bags and talking into their cell phones. Everyone had a fucking cell phone. He hated the things. No one made eye contact. No one said hello anymore. Just zombies walking with their heads down and looking at their phones. He looked around the wide atrium. There was a twenty-foot tall Christmas tree constructed out of poinsettias less than fifty feet from him. The middle of the atrium beyond the tree separated into a forked walkway where the elevators were designated by floor numbers.

  Ice saw no sign of her. It was then he spotted a granite marquee and walked over to look at the companies listed. Hers was second to last.

  With renewed confidence he headed toward the elevators marked 33rd to 66th floors. He stopped in front of them and checked his reflection on the mirrored surface. He tried to recall the man he was, the one she knew and trusted. The one that gave from his heart, putting her happiness first, not allowing his other world to change or darken him. He had lost sight of what was important and now he was out of time.

  7.

  Earlier -

  Asha stepped inside the warm comfort of Starbucks. The line wasn't too long. But the morning was bitterly cold. If Howard hadn't said he would meet her for a morning cup of her favorite latte, she would have just gone to the office instead.

  "Where are you?" she asked.

  "I'm almost there,” Came his deep throaty reply. “Just got out of my Uber."

  "Uber? Where's your driver?"

  "I'm not wasting tax payer money on a driver. Uber is just fine," he chuckled.

  "Well, hurry up. All this Christmas cheer is making me want to puke."

  Howard laughed. "You are the first black woman Scrooge I've ever met. Any other holidays you don't like?"

  "Nope. Just Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and oh, the day after Christmas because people are still running around being idiots. It's the most fake holiday, in my opinion."

  "Mmm? I see you," he whispered.

  Asha glanced back. She smiled and waved her hand at Howard. She put the phone in her pocket. He walked over to her and kissed her cheek. "Morning, beautiful."

  "You are going to be late to court this morning. Especially if you are taking the Uber."

  "Anything for you," he smiled. That smoky desire in his eyes and that sly smile of his would make any girl’s heart melt. He leaned in for a kiss and she gave him one. Howard's kisses were more frequent lately. And she knew what he desired.

  "Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?" the clerk asked.

  Asha pushed Howard’s face away. He chuckled. "I'll have a smoked butterscotch latte, please."

  "You and butterscotch. I could taste the candy on your breath." He chuckled. “Do you brush your teeth in it?”

  "Very funny. Taste good, doesn't it?" she said and stepped aside, leaving him to pay for her coffee. Howard paid and joined her.

  "Dinner tonight?" he asked.

  "I told you. I'm working."

  "Asha, baby, it's Christmas. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. The banks are closed."

  "But a lawyer’s office is always open. I'm not some teller dispensing cash. I'm the brain that keeps the cash moving. I'm working late with my staff tonight so they can enjoy the holidays."

  "And how will you enjoy the holidays?" he asked. He ran his hand up and down her spine. She glanced over at hi
m. She shook her head, smiling. She checked her emails on her phone instead of answering.

  "Tell you what. You hate Christmas, I'm Muslim. We're perfect. Why don't you come over to my place? We can watch movies and eat mansaf and kabsas. No mention of the holiday."

  She smiled. "I'll think about it."

  "Good enough."

  "Asha!" The coffee clerk called her name. She put her cell phone away and accepted her latte, and before she knew it Howard was pulling her out of the coffee shop. He had her briefcase in his hand and held her free hand while she sipped her smoked butterscotch. She glared at the people on the streets. The Christmas performers and music blaring from outside speakers. The reeds on poles and the large Christmas trees in the store windows. New York had to be the second-worst place for the holiday, the first being her home in Wisconsin. Her large family celebrated the holiday all the way to New Year’s. Another reason she avoided going home for the holidays. She hadn't liked the stupid festivities since Ice.

  And that was the worst of it. Christmas time always reminded her of him. She woke up from a dream of him just this morning. He haunted her life still. And she wanted to be free. She glanced over to Howard, who walked her across the street the way a man would do his bride. Howard's chivalry and cool temperament... was sexy. She was kind of attracted to him. He fit the physical requirements, including height. But she'd never been with a man other than Ice. She never wanted to. If she took Howard's offer up for the holidays then it would be the last step she needed to take to be free of longing for a dead marriage.

  "Merry Christmas, lady!" a homeless man jumped out in front of her and startled her out of her thoughts. He held out his hand to her. "Can you help a brother out?"

  "Get out of my way!" Asha snapped.

  Howard paused. He reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out a few bills. He handed them to the man. "Happy Holidays," he said.

  "I thought you were Muslim, and you don't do Christmas?" Asha dropped his hand.

  Howard chuckled. "My faith is all about charity. It goes against my belief to turn a person away who needs it."