Winter Soldiers Soulmate Ch 01

Author's Note: This is not a story full of sex so if that is what you're looking for, then you came to the wrong place. But it is a sweet, sexy, fun adventure between two people destined to be together. So if that is your cup of tea, WELCOME!!

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The soldier stared through the scope at the approaching three individuals. He checked on the fourth member of their group on the roof opposite him. Their sniper wasn't that skilled since he hadn't noticed. They were an amateur group at best. The apartment building he had been squatting in was small and run down. The neighborhood wasn't the safest, but the soldier didn't mind. He didn't need much to survive...or to hide. The men moved in a synchronized pattern as they entered the building. The Soldier watched the sniper, but he wasn't looking at the apartment he was using. Instead, the man was focused on a different window. The Soldier removed himself from the roof and made his way back into the building. He considered intervening but what would be the point? He moved his way through the building, on silent feet with his sniper bag slung over his right shoulder. He was headed for his room when a scream stopped him in his tracks.

The sound went straight to his gut. His feet turned him without him even making the decision. He was racing down the hallway and entering the apartment with the busted door before he could blink. He elbowed the first assailant in the face, sending the man's neck snapping back, with a sickening crunch. The second man was a little harder, only because he turned with a gun in his hand and fired before the Soldier could move in. He deflected the bullet with his metal arm and grabbed the man's throat with his left hand, squeezing ruthlessly, crushing the man's windpipe without a second thought.

The final man held the woman, who had screamed, to his front with a gun pointed at the soldier. The soldier stalked forward, wanting to push the man to step back and get away from the window, so the sniper wouldn't be able to see the female target any longer. It worked, after the assailant tried shooting the soldier six times, with no effect. He watched indifferently, as fear entered the man's eyes, as he backed away with the woman still clutched to his chest. Self-preservation kicked in, as the man pointed the gun at the woman's head. The man started shouting, while the woman cried, but the soldier didn't bother trying to decipher what the man said. It didn't matter. He heard the click of the gun, as the man pulled the trigger. The woman flinched. The gun didn't fire. The soldier almost smirked at the look of shock on the assailants face. He should have been counting his bullets.

The soldier grabbed the gun and tossed it across the room then grabbed the man by the throat. The amateur let go of the woman and scrabbled at the soldier's hand with desperate movements. The soldier lifted the man off his feet and casually tossed him out the window breaking it in the process. The sniper fired a single shot. It hit the man who bled out as he plummeted to the street below. The soldier made sure to stay down out of sight of the sniper.

The soldier looked behind him at the woman who had moved; she now crouched in the corner in fear. He focused back on the sniper. The soldier was able to reach over and close the blinds, before grabbing the woman by the upper arm and pulling her to her feet. He kept her close to his side, as he moved them through the apartment and out into the hallway; making sure to stay between her and the windows just in case. He kept hold of her as he grabbed his rifle bag and made his way up the stairs to another empty apartment he had considered using before deciding on the other one. His apartment had a better defensive positioning, as well as a better view.

The woman was saying something, but the soldier didn't bother to pay attention. It wouldn't help him defend her any better than he already was, so there was no point in listening. He broke the door handle with a twist of his left hand on the doorknob, snapping the lock. He shoved the door open with his shoulder, breaking the door jam to get around the deadbolt.

He moved silently into the empty apartment, placing the door back up behind them both to keep the light out. He dragged the woman over to the window and pulled her down, into a crouching position beside him, while he looked out of the window. He spotted the sniper hastily breaking down his rifle. If he was quick, he could catch the guy on the roof. If not, he would nail him, as he left the building. He let go of the woman, after looking at her sternly so she would stay put. She shrunk away from him and curled her arms around her legs as she cowered into the wall. The soldier didn't have time to focus on her; he needed to get rid of the threat first.

He opened the window, unzipped his sniper bag and pulled out his rifle. He put the sniper rifle together with sure fingers, and without much thought at all. He watched the man as he hurried to finish packing up his gear. He placed the weapon against his shoulder, took a deep breath to center himself, and focused his eye through the scope at the other sniper. The man was running across the roof, his back to the soldier. He was lucky the top of the other building was lower than the apartment they were in; otherwise, he would have lost the man. He aimed, took one more breath then shot.

He didn't bother watching, as his shot landed squarely in the middle of the back of the man's head. He broke down the rifle, put it back in the bag, zipped it up grabbed the woman's upper arm again and moved them out of the apartment and towards his own. He had left it unlocked. He slipped in with the woman stumbling behind him. He shoved her on the couch as he moved around the room. He made sure all his blinds were closed; the door was locked and deadbolted. The soldier made sure the trap was wired for the front door.

Once the soldier felt like his home base was secure, he allowed himself to relax a little. He finally let himself focus on the female. She was an average thing: average height and body type, with brown hair and brown eyes. She wouldn't stick out in a crowd. She was wearing a thin tank top and tiny shorts that barely covered her rear let alone any leg.

She shivered, the Soldier wasn't sure if it was from cold, or fear. He looked her over for injuries; he didn't see much except a bruise forming on her right upper arm where he had grabbed her and another forming around her neck, in the shape of fingertips, that made him growl. He didn't know why the mark around her neck bothered him so much, just that it did.

He stalked closer to her, on silent feet. He noticed a dark smudge on the inside of her left thigh that drew his attention. He moved into her space, ignoring the sounds she made in protest. He grabbed her knees and forced them apart, so he could get a closer look at the mark.

He crouched down in front of her and leaned in, to read the words. It was a name, James Buchanan Barnes. He moved his right hand down from her left knee onto her inner thigh. The name looked so familiar to him; he traced the letters with a light touch.

The woman whimpered. He looked up at her face and saw her biting at her lip and looking at him with wide, blown pupils. He let go of the woman and moved back almost stumbling; there was something about this woman that made him uneasy.

He couldn't stop thinking about that mark on her inner thigh, so close to her folds. It was hidden again, since she had drawn her legs up once more to cover herself and make herself appear smaller. The soldier paced the room, considering his next options. She was obviously in danger, meaning this place had been compromised. He needed to move them and soon. He looked at her and said "stay" in English; then he made his way into the bedroom to grab his bag. It had everything in it all ready to go.

There wasn't much else he needed. Most of his weapons were strapped to his body and the ones that weren't, were easy to grab. He pulled the one gun out from where it was taped to the side of his nightstand between the bed and the nightstand. He moved into the kitchen where he could see the woman still shivering on the couch, due to the open floor plan. He pulled the knife from underneath the kitchen cabinet, then moved into the living room to grab the remaining taser from underneath the coffee table. He hadn't bothered scattering more than those three weapons, because he was usually armed to the teeth anyway. These three were just precautionary.

He didn't bother to undo the traps he had set on all the windows; it would just be another distraction for when whoever was chasing her combed this place. He looked over at the shivering waif; noticing for the first time, she wasn't wearing any shoes and not enough clothing. That couldn't be helped, he didn't trust going into her apartment, but he thought he had a spare long-sleeve shirt she could borrow until he felt they were safe enough to get her something else.

He grabbed his clothing bag and dug around inside, until he spotted the worn grey shirt. He tossed it to her and grunted when she just stared at the fabric.

"Put it on," he growled in English. He was in the U.S, so he assumed everyone spoke English here. They may have to leave the country, though he was hoping not to. He had questions that needed answering, and those were in New York. The Dallas weather was warm enough for March, that he wasn't too worried about her being too cold, but the farther north they went, the colder it would get.

He watched expressionlessly as she fumbled the garment over her head. Once she had pulled it on, he grabbed her wrist in a gentle grip and tugged her towards the door. He undid the trap with sure fingers, slung his two bags over his shoulder: the rifle bag, and his travel bag. Then made his way down the hall to the stairs, with the woman in tow. She hadn't spoken since he had dragged her out of his apartment and he was grateful for her silence. It allowed him to concentrate on keeping them safe and listening for any dangers, to either of them without being distracted.

They made their way down the stairs and to the main foyer of the building. It looked shabby and beat up, but the soldier paid it no mind. He dragged the woman to the front door, then stopped so he could scan the street, before putting them both out into the open. He was careful in his continuous scanning efforts, watching the city street with sharp, unblinking eyes. It may be one in the morning, but that didn't mean people wouldn't be out and about. He didn't want to put innocent bystanders at risk if he could help it.

He waited a solid five minutes, in which the street remained quiet. The silence was peaceful, but the soldier was still on full alert. He grabbed the woman closer and swung her up into a fireman's carry, causing her to squeak, as he exited the building quickly and made his way to the stolen vehicle he had purchased back in California. It was an average black SUV, with darkly tinted windows. It currently had Illinois plates. The soldier opened the passenger side door, stuffing the woman inside, before swinging around the hood and hopping into the front seat. He tossed his two bags gently onto the back seat, started the engine of the car and headed east, out of the city.

He stayed on high alert, throughout the time they traveled through the city. The soldier looked over at the woman, every now and again, watching her eyes slowly droop, and her head start to lean against the window. Her breathing had changed to that of sleep, by the time they had left the city and made it onto interstate 20 headed east. They stayed on the interstate for roughly ten miles, before he got off and did some backtracking. He then continued east, through back roads, until he reached a secluded spot, where he could park the vehicle on a dirt road surrounded by trees, somewhere in Louisiana. He had only stopped for gas once and paid in cash. He wanted to make sure they had a full tank, if needed. He didn't want to use the backup gasoline he had in two jugs in the back of the car, if he didn't have to just yet.

The woman was sleeping restlessly, shivering and whimpering. The soldier wasn't sure how to fix it. He didn't have much in the way of comfortable things. But he did have a few blankets, in the trunk, from the winter. He got out of the vehicle and opened up the back, so he could put the middle seats down and create a bed of sorts.

He made his way to the front passenger side, opening the door carefully, so he could support the girl while she slept on. He reached in and picked up the woman bridal style. He carried her carefully, maneuvering her, so she was lying across the makeshift bed he had made with the almost empty trunk and folded down seats. He laid himself down beside her and wrapped her in blankets.

Her shivering continued. The soldier pulled her closer so that she was lying against him with her head pillowed on his chest. Her shivering finally stopped, and her breathing evened out into a deeper sleep.

The soldier stared at the ceiling of the car in confusion. He couldn't explain his actions. Why the hell did he care if this woman was in danger or not? And why was that name on her inner thigh so familiar to him. The whole situation reminded him of that man he had pulled out of the river some months ago. That's when he had gone rogue. Thinking about that man made his head hurt, so he didn't like to do it very often. But sometimes late at night, like it was now, his unconscious thoughts would drift in that direction. Those blue eyes and blonde hair, they were like the name, so familiar yet so out of reach.

The soldier finally allowed himself to doze, careful to not go too far under, so he could still listen for any danger that might approach.

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Lucy Camile Elliot stirred, slowly coming back to herself. Her throat hurt, making it hard to draw in a breath. She moved carefully, trying to figure out what woke her up. She opened her eyes blearily, to see her vision field obscured by a very broad chest and muscled arm.

She jerked back, sitting up. The blankets fell off her shoulder making her shiver. She pulled them back up and stared at the man lying in front of her. He had dark hair that fell into his eyes, a chiseled jawline, covered in scruff, and a soft mouth that seemed to hold a perpetual snarl.

Lucy looked at her surroundings and noticed they were in a car in the back. It all started coming back to her. She would have groaned except she was terrified of waking this dangerous man up. She had watched, as he had killed or seriously wounded three men with his bare hands, then he shot a sniper rifle out the window, with enough casual finesse, that she was sure he had used it frequently before.

He didn't talk much, nor did he seem to understand the boundaries of social norms, from the way he had manhandled her. Lucy hadn't despised his touch though, which said something. She had always had good instincts for people, and her gut was telling her she was safe with him.

The other men; however, she was kind of glad they were gone. Each one of them had made her skin crawl, and bile fill her mouth.

Besides the fear and adrenaline, Lucy just felt confused. What the hell was going on? She had gotten her mark two weeks ago at the age of 21, which was late by many people's standards but not unheard of. She had proudly made her way down to the courthouse, skipping classes to present her mark, so it could be recorded in the records like everyone else. She was now considered a full-fledged member of society and a full-grown woman. She was so proud, but then weird things started happening. She felt eyes constantly watching her, even though she couldn't see anyone. A few times, she had been followed, when walking down the street and now this? It was all too much.

It had to have something to do with her mark. Her soul mate, James Barnes, would have a lot of explaining to do, once she finally found him. What other reason would alter her life so much in such a short amount of time?

Now here she was, in the back of a vehicle, god knows where, with a mad man. Could it get any worse? Lucy looked down at herself, remembering she was wearing: booty shorts, cotton panties, a see-through tank top, and one of the mad man's long sleeve shirts. She had no other clothes, no form of I.D, no money, and no answers. She was so totally screwed.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please COMMENT!!