Page 3 of Keel

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. She was about five feet five inches tall. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and a huge hat that made it so he couldn’t see her face.

“You’re welcome. Was he a friend of yours?”

Her snort was derisive. “An ex. He won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

His ex was haunting him, not in person, but through videos. He never wanted to see her again. He bet this woman never wanted to see Pipsqueak again.

“I just wanted to say thank you for what you did.”

Keel nodded, wondering what she looked like under that hat and without the long-sleeved hoodie. “If you need anything, I’ll be here for a few days.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She ducked back into the condo and shut the door. The sound of the lock turning was very final.

He shrugged and took off down the stairs, starting his run. Once he got his rhythm, his mind went to the special place it did when he went for a long run or a ruck. Thinking happened. His mind wasn’t blank, but it was in a trance state, like meditation, that allowed him to work through problems and heal his soul.

The weather was perfect. The sound of the ocean was loud enough that even when cars streamed past, he could still hear the pounding waves. The sound relaxed him, making this one of his best runs in a while.

When he was almost back to the condo, he spied a coffee shop next to a discount grocery store. The coffee smelled delicious, so he decided he wanted something to eat. He bet the place had a great breakfast sandwich.

He ordered and took his coffee and food outside. The weather was perfect. It wasn’t hot, but it hadn’t cooled off so much that the ocean breeze had a bite to it.

The smooth coffee went down easily, and the sandwich was just right. He was almost done eating when he spied the woman he’d met this morning stepping from the store, reminding him he needed to go grocery shopping. The one bag she carried didn’t seem very full. Maybe she wasn’t staying long.

He watched her walk across the small lot and noticed that when she glanced his way, the sun hit just right so he could see bruises ringing both eyes. There was a mark on her cheek, and he could see something on her neck. He bet that she wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt to hide the marks on her arms.

A shiny sports car sped into the lot and screeched to a stop next to her, almost hitting her. Keel squeezed his fists, anger filling him.

The bastard was out of lockup. They must not have had much to hold him. The woman backed away as she glanced around, probably looking for an escape. The guy started screaming at her before he even got all the way out of the car.

Keel stood, taking the first step her way. He should stay out of this. It wasn’t any of his business what happened between them, but that little jerk had pulled a gun last night. He wasn’t stable, and Keel bet the idiot would attack this woman here in the parking lot, given half a chance.

Pipsqueak reached the woman and shoved her. She went flying, her grocery bag ripping as it hit the broken macadam. Keel growled, maybe a little too loud because the jerk looked up.

Fear flashed across the idiot’s face, and he took a step back. But he didn’t even attempt to pull a gun, so the cops must still have it.

“You should leave,” Keel said as he moved closer.

“Go away,” Pipsqueak said, but his voice lacked force. He’d also taken a few steps back, allowing Keel to step between the woman and this jerk.

“You need to leave. I’m sure the police would love to know that you just attacked this woman.”

Pipsqueak rushed back around his car. For a second, Keel worried that the man would try to run over them, but the dude must have thought better and backed his sports car out into the lane of traffic, earning more than one honk from angry drivers.

Keel turned, noticing the woman trying to gather her groceries that had spilled. The six-pack of eggs she’d purchased was open, and the yellow yolks were splashed across the cracked parking lot. He squatted next to her and grabbed the can of beans and a can of corn. The jar of peanut butter was shattered in one corner and ruined. The bread bag had ripped, along with a bag of crackers.

Her hat had fallen off, too, allowing him to see the full effect of the bruises and scratches. If that bastard was willing to shove her to the ground in public, how bad was he in private?

He and Shana had fought, especially after what she’d done at his parents’ funeral. But he’d never hit his ex, never pushed her, never laid hands on her. Instead, he’d walked away and blown off steam running or working out. Anger happened, but it was how you dealt with it that showed what kind of man you were. He’d learned that from his boot camp sergeant. He owed that man a lot.

“Let me help you,” Keel said as softly as he could manage.

“No, it’s okay.”

He reached out and put his hand on her upper arm, noticing how small her arm felt even under the thick sweatshirt. He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing that she didn’t just look thin, she was underweight, like people he saw in awful war zones where governments starved the citizens.

“Hey, this place has great sandwiches and coffee. They also have tea if you don’t drink coffee.”