Wrapped In Armor Read online

  © 2013 MJ FIELDS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

  Published by MJ Fields

  Wrapped in Armor Copyright © 2013 MJ Fields

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, in investigation by the FBI is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Songs mentioned throughout have been given credit and are the work of the credited artist, musician, or song writer.

  Thank You

  Without you all this rewrite wouldn't shine as brightly.

  Cover Design - Amy Queau @ Q Cover Design

  Editor - Kris @ C&D Editing

  Proof- Asli Arif Fratarcangeli

  Proof- Kim Ginsberg

  Conductor or my chaos - Autumn

  Contents

  Music That Inspired

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Epilogue

  Next In The Brody Hines series

  Books by MJ Fields

  Audio Books

  About the Author

  Music That Inspired

  Wild Horses ~ The Rolling Stones

  Let’s Go Crazy~ Prince

  Wrapped In Your Arms ~ Firefight

  Remember ~ Lauren Daigle

  Kiss~ Prince

  Dream A Little Dream Of Me~ Ellie Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

  Link To Listen

  Prologue

  My Dearest Brody,

  Today marks the third month I haven’t been able to see your beautiful face, and so much has happened. With it all just jumping around in my head, I’m writing in hopes that I can somehow make sense of it all.

  Just weeks after you went missing, Elizabeth was returned to us. I know I have you to thank for that. My family is so grateful that you got her out of that hell. She’s still in rehab and in intense counseling, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be the same.

  I know I should be jumping for joy that my sister, who’s been missing for over thirty years, is here. I’m not, Brody, and I know how incredibly ungrateful and inhuman that sounds, but her being here caused you not to be. My heart won’t be whole until I see you again.

  A month after you were gone, your fans held a national memorial service that I was supposed to attend. Rebecca went in my place. I couldn’t face them, or the fact that anyone could possibly believe you’re gone, because I know you’re not. I feel you from afar, holding all the pieces of my shattered heart together until you walk through that door and hold me, telling me it’s all better now.

  Everyone believed I was mourning your death and couldn’t keep it together to be in public. That’s fine. I actually don’t care what the world thinks … I just want you home.

  The day of the service, London taught me how to play the piece you two were working on for her end-of-the-year concert. She asked that I play with her since you’re gone, and I agreed. I’m hopeful I won’t have to put her through that embarrassment, so you need to hurry home, my love, my life, my forever.

  Month two, Rebecca and your band held their own service. I skipped that one, as well, and I didn’t have to come up with an excuse—Lila went into labor. We have a beautiful little girl, Brody. Lexington Grace was born on May 13th. She weighed six pounds and two ounces, and was nineteen inches long. She looks exactly like you; your beautiful blue eyes, your thick brown hair, and your pouty bottom lip. Lexi was seven weeks early. It was extremely scary for a while, but after a week in the neonatal unit, she was able to come home.

  Lila’s been a dream. She didn’t hesitate for a minute. She kissed her little head then handed her right to me, Brody. She was the perfect surrogate, just like you knew she would be. Lila even agreed to express breast milk for the first month to give our daughter the colostrum, which helps build her immunities.

  After the press got a hold of the story about our beautiful Lexington, London, Lila, Mark, Lexington, and I went to the lake house and stayed for two weeks. Lila was still recovering from her C-section and working her ass off to give them just enough photos and press releases to keep them away.

  While we were there, London finally broke down, and I think I’ve been convincing enough to let her think I have, as well, although I cannot even say the words, because you are still here.

  We’ve been home for two weeks. My boss has been generous enough to allow me to work from home, but on Monday, I have to go back to two days a week. Mom’s cut her hours so that she can be with Lexi on the days I’ll be at work.

  Clive’s become an invaluable asset. I knew nothing of the finances, bills, or anything pertaining to the maintenance or security of the property, and he did. I guess you trusted him enough, so he stayed on. I honestly feel safer with him here. I do feel bad about using your money to pay him and Lila. I’m managing to take care of most everything else on my salary, which has increased since I started, but you know that already.

  Clive’s amped up security, which I’m grateful for. I don’t know why, but without you here, I often times feel anxious. I haven’t slept in our bedroom since the authorities brought Elizabeth home and announced you were missing. The first time I walked in and looked at our bed, I just fell apart. The nights London’s gone, I still do.

  I miss you, Brody. I can still smell your intoxicating scent on your pillow. I use your toothbrush, hoping I might taste you. I wear your clothes every day that I’m home and change before I pick up London. Lexington and I watch videos of you every day, and I tell her how much you love her.

  Brody, she needs to know you. Love, please come home.

  I miss you … more.

  Yours always and forever,

  Em

  Chapter 1

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Pastor Page announces, and amongst the flowers and twinkling lights, people clap and cheer in celebration of love.

  I close my eyes as memories of the last time Pastor Page said those words vividly flash in my mind as if I’m seeing them through a movie lens.

  My happy ever after.

  I didn’t expect
to feel my heart crack when I offered to hold the wedding at The Hines’ estate. I never could have expected it to hurt like this.

  Not here. Not our home.

  Oh, Brody, I need you now. Come home, please. I beg you.

  I open my eyes and look down at London smiling brightly. “You’re the most beautiful junior bridesmaid I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you’re the prettiest maid of honor in the universe.” London hugs me tight. “Mommy, we’re going to be okay, right?”

  “Of course, we always are,” I assure her, the child I vowed to protect from any more heartbreak, as I pull her closer. “We love each other more. How could we not be perfect?”

  “Do I have to go with Dad tonight?”

  “Do you want to stay here, London?”

  “Yes, I do. I just don’t want to cause a fight,” London says, her lower lip beginning to pout.

  “Well, I’m your mommy, and I’ll fight for you forever.” I nod toward the sleeping Lexi in the carrier beside me. “Why don’t you sit with your sister, and I’ll go make a phone call.”

  After dancing the night away with my girls, and then tucking them in, I walk back outside where the reception is starting to die down.

  “Thank you so much, Emma, for offering to do this for us.” Lila hugs me.

  “I owe you so much more.” I squeeze her. “Besides, this was nice. A break from the normal Saturday night.” I smile.

  “Are you all right? I mean, with everything?” Lila asks, as she does almost daily.

  I nod. “I still don’t believe he’s …” I pause, unable to say the word.

  “I know. I just really wish you’d talk to me, Emma.”

  “If I ever feel like I’m going to truly lose it, you’ll be the first call I make.”

  Everyone has left, just the caterers are still here, cleaning up, as I walk out to see if there is anything else to do.

  “Ma’am, everything’s all set. You should go in and sleep,” Clive suggests. “I’ll see to it that everything’s secure for the night.”

  “I know you will. I’m just not ready to go to bed yet. Would you like some coffee, Clive? The cold is much more noticeable without the outdoor heaters running.” I hold the door open for him to come in

  “Sure, thank you, ma’am,” Clive answers.

  “Honest to God, you need to stop calling me that, please,” I say as evenly as possible as I pour him a cup.

  I hold the mug out for him.

  “All right, I’ll try.”

  “So, you and Brody knew each other before?” I ask, as I often do, just to hear stories about him.

  “Yes, for many years.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Emma,” Clive chokes out, and I can’t help but feel a bit victorious. He shakes his head and sets his mug down.

  “Clive?”

  “I hear you every night, crying, and I know you watch him on TV every day. Could you tell me why you do that to yourself?” he asks with an inquisitive tone.

  “I miss him … very much. I don’t believe he’s gone, and I expect him to walk through that door someday soon.”

  “I see.”

  “You think I’m crazy,” I say before taking a sip of my tea.

  “No, ma’am—Emma,” he corrects. “I can’t believe he’s gone, either. It just doesn’t make sense. But neither does believing otherwise. He would be with you if he could be.”

  I know he would. “Do you think he’s hurt?”

  He takes a sip of his coffee.

  “Do you think he’s alive and—”

  “No, ma’am. I just wish, like you do, that he’s okay.”

  For just a moment, I hoped I wasn’t alone, that someone else just knew he was all right.

  Dad used all his contacts at the ISA to try to find him for months and failed to turn up anything. I forced myself to stop having these talks with him after his mini-stroke, one I felt he suffered because he thought Brody’s disappearance was partially his fault. I know he tried everything he could to bring him back to me. I, myself, went to England and retraced every step I could, trying to piece together exactly what may have happened to him.

  Rebecca still keeps in contact with the authorities and pushes them to find something, anything, that will help them figure out what happened. But when the authorities found his shirt with cuts in it and bloodstains matching his DNA by the river, that was enough for them.

  My Dearest Brody,

  I’ve had a difficult day. I hurt thinking of what may have happened to you. I hurt knowing that wherever you are, you’re unable to get back to us. I hurt knowing that I’ve failed in finding you. I hurt so much missing you. I hurt knowing I’m either crazy believing that you’re out there somewhere, and I hurt thinking you aren’t.

  Our little Lexington is six months old and cutting her first tooth. She’s healthy and happy, and every day, she looks more and more like you. Even her mannerisms complement yours. She smiles when she sees your videos on television. She laughs out loud, and she’s starting to sit up unassisted.

  Our London has dived into piano, and over summer vacation, she attended music camp. She played many of your pieces, and each night as I sat and watched her play, I smiled and clapped for her. I feel like I’ve been distant from her, and it scares me. I need to be present for them, and in order to do that, I need to be whole. Without you, I struggle every day to become that again.

  I have dreams of you often, not the nightmares that I had before, but very pleasant dreams, sometimes too pleasant. I still haven’t slept in our bed, and I fear I never will again.

  It’s been eight months without you, and I know when I smell your pillow, it truly isn’t your scent I smell, but the memory of it. People say memories fade … and that scares me senseless. I never want to go a day when I don’t remember your smile, your smell, your touch, your voice, or the way you loved me.

  Yours always and forever,

  Em

  “Ma’am, may I have a few moments?”

  “Of course.” I grab the remote and quickly turn off the home video of our first Christmas together. Then I push the notebook under the pillow beside me where Lexington is napping.

  Clive nods. “You didn’t have to turn that off. I know you watch them every day.”

  I shrug. “I want her to know his voice.” So when he comes back, he’s not a stranger to her.

  Clive sits beside me. “Ma’am—”

  “Emma,” I correct.

  He nods. “Emma, I need to return to England for a bit. I have family matters to attend to. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Realizing how long he’s gone without more than a day off at a time, I feel horrible. “I should’ve insisted you take a vacation. How rude of me. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wouldn’t be leaving now except something pressing has come up. I’ll leave tonight. Rupert will be here in my place.”

  “You trust Rupert even when you’re not here?”

  “I do, and so should you.” He smirks. “He’s never kept you locked in a car, has he?”

  “I guess not.” I laugh, remembering the day he locked me in the limo so that Brody could speak to Troy at the rehab center without me flipping out from emotions that had frayed me for weeks, a lifetime decision being made, and seriously considering a man like Brody, one who wanted to save me from hurting if his hunch wasn’t right about Elizabeth, and I was in fact flipping out.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Clive squeezes my hand before he stands.

  Rupert Long is an intimidating man who doesn’t speak often, but when he does, he commands attention. He is tall and muscular, his skin like milk chocolate, hair and eyes midnight black. He has been with us for a while now. The first week, London and I had an ongoing game where the goal was to see who could make him crack a smile or speak. London of course won.

  Since Clive has been gone, she’s started the game again, insisting he eat with us like she did Clive since Brody … left.

&nbs
p; My London never ceases to amaze me, make me smile, laugh, and push on.

  Laying with Lexington on my chest, next to London, who is sleeping, my phone vibrates. I look at the screen then answer it quietly.

  “Ma’am, this is Clive.”

  “Clive, how are things? Is your family well?” I ask.

  “They are, but I’ll need another week,” Clive states rather than asks.

  Never having been the boss of a person, I have no idea to react, but I know this man is either truly dealing with issues, or—my heart sinks—he’s getting ready to end his employment.

  “All right … of course.”

  “Is everything all right there, ma’am?” he asks.

  “Well … yes, they’re fine.”

  “You don’t seem so sure. Is there a problem? Is Rupert doing all right?” Clive questions.

  “He’s not you, Clive,” I say, hoping he knows we need and appreciate him. “And, honestly, he’s a bit … well, how do I say this?”

  “Overbearing?” Clive asks with a hit of amusement that gives me hope that I am in fact overreacting.

  I smile. “Yes, but silently so.”

  “He has a job to do, Mrs. Hines,” Clive says lightheartedly.