Not Another Soldier by Samantha Holt Page A

outside.”
    I gulp. “Is it like this in the rest of the apartment
too?”
    He nods slowly and I gape around. It sounds silly but
I can’t take my eyes off the big vase that I’d put next to my bookcase. It was
cream and so heavy, and maybe not even that pretty, but it was mine. One of the
first things I bought when I signed the lease for the apartment. It was a
symbol of me being on my own and having my own stuff. And now it’s cracked in
two, having been carelessly thrown to the floor. I press my fingers to my eyes
to prevent the tears from coming.
    And then Nick’s arms are around me, a shield of
comfort. I don’t cry, just sniffle a little. I think I’m still in shock, but
listening to his steady heartbeat through his chest calms me as my head moves
with the rise and fall of his breaths. His hands stroke my hair and I know if I
tilt my head up, a kiss will probably be waiting for me.
    I don’t though. Somehow, I manage to keep a hold on my
sanity.
    I inch away slightly but his arms remain around me. “I
wasn’t gone that long. How did they know?”
    Nick’s expression looks regretful. “I think whoever
did this was probably watching.” He steps back to survey the damage but grips
one of my hands.
    When I glance down at our joined hands, I’m struck by
how right it looks. Large and small. Light and dark. They fit perfectly
together. Then I remember that my home is trashed and such thoughts seem
ridiculous.
    “Can you see if anything is missing?”
    I run my gaze across the room and shake my head. “Not
that I can see. I don’t really own much of value anyway. They didn’t even take
the TV.”
    Interestingly the large flat screen is completely
untouched as is my stereo on the bookcase.
    “Do you have any jewelry, valuables?”
    “A few rings. Nothing particularly valuable though.”
    “Where are they?”
    “In my jewelry box.” I motion to my bedroom.
    I cringe as he raises a brow at me. Okay, perhaps I
should have had a less obvious place to keep them but I never really expected
to get robbed. Guess I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.
    My kitchen is a mess. Nick guides me through and I try
to avoid looking at the emptied drawers and the utensils thrown carelessly on
the floor. My bedroom doesn’t fare much better. It looks as though they’ve
lifted the mattress as it’s now crooked. The sheets are still rumpled and sadly
that was my fault. I couldn’t bring myself to touch them after Nick left. Stark
memories of his hard naked body spread across them assail me. My body tenses at
the thought.
    He releases my hand and I miss the warmth. I go
straight for the jewelry box on my dressing table. It’s open, beads and
necklaces hanging out of it and I pick my way through the contents.
    “Nothing’s missing,” I say in surprise.
    “You sure?” Nick comes to my side and studies my
jewelry as if he knows more about my stuff than I do.
    “Yeah, even the most valuable stuff like…” I throw a
wary glance at him, “like my wedding ring.” I tug out the gold band with little
diamonds embedded in it. “This is probably the only valuable thing I own. Why
didn’t they take it?”
    His jaw is tense, eyes narrow as he stares at the
ring. I slip it back into the jewelry box. It seems to snap him out of whatever
he was thinking and he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think this was a
robbery.”
    “Then what was it? Some kids messing around?”
    “If it was kids then why didn’t they break the TV? Or
spray paint the place? And why your place? It would have been easier to break
into the apartment below.”
    “Christ, thanks, Nick,” I whisper when a chill seeps
into me.
    I don’t even notice I’m shaking until he eases me into
the side of him and escorts me to the kitchen. Shoving the mess aside with his
foot, he practically puts me on a bar stool and sets up the coffee pot.
    “We’d better call the police,” he states.
    “Why? What am I going to say? Someone broke in and
made a