"Encounters."

It wasn’t an argument, not precisely. Well, yeah it was. Tate and Bryan both had been on edge for several days now, ever since they went to the diner to meet with his “father.” Tate had lost her temper (surprise) and gone back out to the car. Apparently, though, the man wanted money, a lot of it, and he’d threatened her.

Of course that had sent Bryan into his overprotective mode. It was only endearing for about five minutes. After that it had become annoying and not long after that it had become intolerable. He didn’t want her seeking the man out for a confrontation. Fine, she could live with that. But then he had told her that he didn’t want her to take any jobs either? Nah, she wasn’t going to be stuck at home like a prisoner.

They’d had a good long argument over that. Probably the worst they’d ever had. Tank and the new puppy had both gone into hiding when the shouting escalated. Luckily the only thing she had thrown at him was laundry. It could have gotten ugly. The two had argued for a few days, having to take a break as Bryan left for Saint Louis, Missouri.

Of course they had made up when he got back, but the tension was still there. It didn’t help that she had lost her shit when she spotted the old man sitting in a car up the street watching their house. The old man had crept around, spying on their home while Bryan was away. Only noticing on the drive back from picking Bryan up from the airport. She’d managed to break the driver’s side window before Bryan caught up with her. He’d made it just in time to keep her from throwing any punches.

Strangely, Bryan hadn’t been mad about it. They had both watched to be sure he left before locking the doors and settling in to watch movies and ignore the rest of the world. He was good like that, knowing when she needed to shut herself away because things were getting overwhelming. A lot of bad anniversaries were coming, and this mess wasn’t helping.

As soon as he had gotten in the shower for the morning, though, she had sneaked out the front door. She felt guilty leaving the puppy behind, but she needed to go for a run and the little pug’s legs wouldn’t keep up right now. There had been the temptation to take her iPod and crank the music as loud as she pleased, just to prove a point, but caution had overruled that. She at least needed to be able to pay attention to her surroundings.

After circling the neighborhood jogging path once, Tate had started to relax. She hadn’t seen anything at all that had led her to believe anything was out of the ordinary. Maybe the old fuck had gotten the hint. With her lungs and legs both starting to burn from fatigue, she pushed herself to finish the circuit again. It wasn’t far, she was already back into the wooded area where houses and streets all faded away.

Right there.

Between the impact of one shoe on the paved path and the other she heard the tiniest rustle of foliage. She had less than the blink of an eye to try to whip around. She didn’t make it even half way, but enough that when her body was driven back into a tree just off the path, she caught the impact on the back of her shoulder and not a direct side-to-side hit.

With the pain that screamed through the joint, she knew that the latter would have dislocated her shoulder. It was the same one she’d injured earlier in the year in Africa with Owens. She exhaled on impact, keeping from having the wind knocked out of her, but she was already at a disadvantage.

When he threw her in the opposite direction, she managed to keep herself mostly clear of the pavement and hit the dirt on the other side. His foot made contact with her side, making her eyes water, but she didn’t feel a snap. She didn’t let go of his leg, either. She held on and whipped him backward as she surged to her feet.

But the elder Williams grabbed the front of her shirt as he fell and pulled her down with him. Tate threw a hard forearm into his jaw as she came down, immediately rolling out of his reach. Between the slick surface of damp fallen leaves and the slight incline her feet slipped when she went to stand.

She thought fast and grabbed a little tree, whipping herself back toward the path as he came at her. His much greater weight carried him past her and she heard him slip in the dirt. She choose the direction that was a shorter distance to open space on the path and hit it running, pushing herself to go as fast as she could.

Much like her Sarge, Bryan’s dad was pushing 60 but still in shape. Not just in shape, in damn good shape and not just for someone his age. He hit her hard from behind. She felt the pavement rake flesh off of her hands and arms as she caught herself to keep her head from hitting the ground.

Tate rolled again, but it was the wrong way, right into a kick. Every gasp of air left her lungs and her eyes flooded for a moment. She pushed herself up anyway, there was no giving up. She didn’t make it five steps before he snagged the back of her shirt and yanked backward. She still managed to keep her head from hitting the concrete, but barely. Then he was on top of her.

It wasn’t a slap, but a closed-fisted strike that caught the side of her face, loose but enough to daze her. As his hand closed around her neck she was snapped back to a narrow alley in Kandahar. Her heart either stopped or started beating so fast she couldn’t feel it anymore. Her fingers went reflexively for her thigh, as she had that day. But she wasn’t in uniform. She didn’t have a knife there.

Not there.

Her leg was trapped at an uncomfortable angle beneath her, putting the strain on her knee. Fingers fumbled at the leg of her yoga pants, trying to get them up high enough to get the knife out of the sheathe she had strapped to her ankle. She wasn’t going to run around the neighborhood carrying, but she damn sure wasn’t going to go unarmed. She never got to get it free before he caught her wrist.

“Enough you cunt!”

With both of his hands occupied she threw a punch from the left. Sloppy, slow. He caught it easily enough and forced her arm back across her own neck, making her shoulder throb in agony again.

“Enough!”

She went slack at the second strike to the side of her face. It wasn’t that she was giving up, but she couldn’t make any of her limbs respond. She could barely hear over the ringing in her ears.

“One more time and I’m going to send you back to him with one less part to worry about.”

He was good, no two ways about that. He kept her legs separated with a knee to keep her from mounting a defense. He was far enough forward on her center of gravity that she could never have gotten the right leverage to throw him off even if she didn’t have a leg trapped under her.

“I thought it was about time you and I had a talk, alone, just so I can make sure that stupid son of mine isn’t trying to tell you that everything is just fine. Everything is not fine. The two of you owe me a great deal, and one of the two of you is going to pay it. I prefer the cash but if you lovebirds want to make me take it some other way…”

Tate snarled as the tip of her own goddamn knife pricked the skin just to the side of her left eye.

“...then I will. Now, don’t speak. Just nod if you understand the severity of your situation.”

It took everything, everything for her to not to fight again. A simple nod. But it was more difficult than any match or fight she’d ever had. She must have managed it, because she heard him laugh.

The pressure on her neck and torso eased as he finally removed himself from her. She didn’t quite register that he had her ankle still, that he was pulling her leg out from under her, until he spoke again.

“One last thing…”

Tate didn’t hear her own scream as the kick to the inside of her knee landed. All she felt was the pain.

“...Don’t ever threaten me again. Now go home to Bryan, and make sure he gets the lesson, and my money.”

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there. Long after he was gone. The struggle to get up was impossible. The struggle to limp down the path was worse. She couldn’t go through the rest of the neighborhood again. Couldn’t risk any of the neighbors seeing her even if they should all have been at work.

She cut through the small section of wooded area toward where she knew the back yard was. It wasn’t until she reached the gate that she remembered it was locked from the inside, just to be sure the puppy couldn’t get out. How she ever managed to pull herself up over the top of the wooden fence she’d never remember.

All she would remember was that the pain when she hit the ground on the other side made her quite sure she’d rather be dead. Fuck it, fuck dignity. She crawled to the back door. It wasn’t locked. The puppy was there as soon as she slid the glass and screen aside, oblivious to anything that might have been wrong.

Tate dragged herself inside. She wanted to keep it all a secret from Bryan. She wanted to clean up and make sure he didn’t see. But she couldn’t move. She just laid there, glad that they had hardwood so she wouldn’t have to clean her blood out of the carpet. The puppy licked her face. She struggled to pet her.

“It’s alright. I’m alright. Go get your daddy.”