Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  Just not the star that her starry-eyed ten-year-old self had imagined.

  Not for one minute had she stopped seeing men as games to play and puzzles to solve: they were predictable and so damn easy to manipulate, they were barely a challenge. Trish had never met a man that she couldn’t read and nobody surprised her.

  Not until Keegan. She couldn’t figure this guy out at all: a former special forces badass with a specialty in things that definitely involved killing people, a family guy who clearly adored his twin sister and niece, a foul-mouthed white knight who’d take down an asshole in a parking lot to protect a stranger, an independent business owner who happily baked cookies.

  Jesus Lord – could this guy be any more of a walking contradiction?

  So what did she say to a guy that she couldn’t see coming a mile away? She had no idea.

  “So, Trish,” he said now, his voice a bit lower than she’d heard it up until then. “The phone.”

  “The – the phone?” She was totally stumped. “What phone?”

  “His phone. The prick who’s gonna have a headache for the next two days.”

  “Oh! Yes.” She took it out of her purse and put it in the middle of the table. “Well… any suggestions?”

  “I suggest you run it over in a truck ten or twelve times, darlin’.”

  She laughed, delighted. “That’s actually what I was planning to do!” Then she turned serious for a moment. “Keegan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if – what happens if he goes to the cops after all? Wouldn’t it better if – if I had that video to show them? It would help us both, especially you. I don’t want you to get arrested or anything because of me.”

  “He ain’t goin’ to the cops.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Adam.”

  “Adam?”

  “Nick’s best man. I sent him out to the parking lot to pick the asshole up out of the dirt, and to have a quiet word with him.”

  Trish immediately flashed back to the guy sitting at the head table, the one with the stunning, dark-haired girlfriend.

  “You mean the tank-sized guy?” she blurted out. “You sent him?”

  “Yep. That’s Adam. Ex-pro boxer and biggest human I’ve ever seen. Nice guy most of the time, but he wasn’t tonight.”

  “He – did he carry on pounding jerk-face into the dust?”

  “Nah. He just made sure that he was OK and he got him home in one piece. Adam texted me not long ago to say that the asshole was back at his place safe and sound, and that he understood how much better it would be for everyone if he just shut the hell up.”

  “Well…” Trish said slowly. “I guess if a guy like Adam told me to do something, I’d do it.”

  “Right? Me too.”

  Trish laughed. “Thank you, Keegan.”

  “Sure, darlin’.” He paused, ran a hand through his dark hair and suddenly Trish wanted to touch him. Just for a second, just for forever. “So listen – I know you said that you ain’t allowed to date customers, but I figure since you’re already here…”

  “Yeah. I am. Breaking rules left and right.”

  “So maybe we can do this again. Another time. Without my sister.”

  “You – you mean a real date?”

  “I mean a real date.” Keegan took a deep breath. “But I want to tell you somethin’ first, before you answer one way or the other. You should have all the information about me that you need to know. It’s only fair.”

  Right away, Trish braced herself for the sudden existence of a new relationship that Kelly had no clue about, braced herself to turn him down. She was hugely disappointed in Keegan but not surprised: she knew that at some point, every guy cheated and when they did, they chose someone like her.

  Trish hated cheaters. She never helped them deceive a woman they claimed to love and care about – it was one of her iron-clad rules. As hot as Keegan was, as intriguing as she found him, this one cup of tea with him was possibly as far as things were going to go.

  “OK,” she said, and she heard the polite, cool distance in her voice. “Go ahead.”

  Bastard.

  **

  Keegan braced himself to tell Trish about his leg, braced himself for almost-certain rejection. As always, he found himself idly wondering what the rejection was going to look like this time.

  Oh, she might not react as strongly as some women had in the past: maybe she wouldn’t physically recoil in horror and revulsion, go pale and all jittery, suddenly be all oh! is that the time? and have something urgent to run out and do. She might be more subtle about it: a few guarded glances at his pant-leg, some nervous chatter about how it just didn’t matter at all – before suddenly being all oh! is that the time? and having something urgent to run out and do.

  Most scenarios involved a mad dash out the door, really.

  He’d long ago resolved that the rip-off-the-bandaid approach was best, just to save time and sanity, so he’d basically prepared a speech for this moment. It involved simply saying it, just dropping the news without preamble or context, just telling the truth.

  “You know that I was in Afghanistan,” he said. “That I was involved in some dangerous shit.”

  She nodded, looking closed and cold. Already.

  “The thing is Trish, I was badly hurt over there.”

  Now Trish looked alarmed. “You – hurt how?”

  “My unit was out in the field on a hostage rescue. It was a three-year-old boy from a rich family, and we had less than an hour to get him out before he was dead. We stormed the place and I was shot three times in my left leg. We were really far from anyplace to get surgery done, so the trauma doc just tied it off to stop what bleedin’ he could and they hustled me to the jeep and straight to the closest clinic about four hours away. It took a way longer time than that to get through the gunfire though – it took too long.”

  Right away, her beautiful eyes dropped to his leg. “Too long?”

  “Yeah. Way too fuckin’ long. In that heat and dirt, infection had set in by the time they finally got me on the table.” He swallowed, mentally ripped off the bandaid in a single, decisive movement. “I lost my leg.”

  “You – what?”

  “They amputated my left leg.” He tapped on his prosthesis so she could hear the sound of plastic and titanium against his knuckles. “I ain’t got much left, just a stump. They removed everythin’ up to about mid-thigh.”

  “Oh my God.” She stared at him, her beautiful face white with shock. “Keegan… I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” he said automatically; every one of them said sorry. “It was four years ago and I’ve had a prosthetic leg for well over three, so by now I’ve got no problems movin’ around and when I’m dressed, nobody knows a thing. But when I ain’t dressed – well. It’s a different situation, as you can imagine. And I ain’t sayin’ that we’re gonna rip our clothes off on our first real date, but I figure that you have the right to know what the deal is before you decide to accept or not, or let things start up at all.” He paused, veered from his usual prepared speech suddenly. “‘Cause the truth is, I’m askin’ you out in the hope that I’ll see you again, and again, and again – and if you want that too, then at some point, I’m gonna want you in my bed, darlin’.”

  She stared at him, blinking and clearly stunned.

  “So.” He leaned back, watching her closely. “I’m gonna ask once more and I’ll accept any answer that you give me: maybe we can do this again another time, without my sister? A real date.”

  Brace yourself, man. Here we go.

  “I – I’d love that.” She gazed at him, so radiantly lovely with those eyes a clear, shining blue. “I’d really love that, Keegan.”

  He almost fell over. The first words after his bombshell were never, ever acceptance to see him again. If they weren’t spluttering excuses on the way out the door, then they were intimate questions, more blathering apologies, gushing thanks for serving his country… a
nd then rejection. Gentle and heartfelt and a bit embarrassed rejection, to be sure, but still – a no.

  Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with himself: he’d been so ready for a ‘no’, he had no idea what to do with a ‘yes’.

  “You – for real?” he growled. “Even though I ain’t got a left leg? You do understand what that looks like?”

  “I mean… yes and no. I’ve seen pictures and videos, of course, like anyone who watches the news and movies, or spends any time at all on the internet. But I’ve never seen anything like that in person.”

  “And you think that you’d be OK if you did?” he asked, holding his breath. Christ, he couldn’t believe this and although he was thrilled, a part of him felt like he had to keep warning her. “It’s – it’s brutal. It’s fuckin’ ugly to look at, with a huge long purple scar from the amputation and sewin’ the ends together again. I gotta ask you if you could imagine ever finding that… well. Sexy.”

  She cocked her head at him with a sweet smile and her long blonde hair fell over her slim shoulders. “Let me ask you something, Keegan.”

  Startled by the rapid-fire change in topic and mood, he stammered, “Shoot.”

  “I’m an uneducated waitress-failed-actress who lives with an elderly woman to save money. I serve chicken and cake and coffee at weddings and company parties for absolutely shit cash-in-hand. I’m a failure, in pretty much every goddamn sense of the word.”

  “Wait. No –”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” She leaned forward, so alive and bright, his heart ached a bit. “And it’s OK. It really is. I know what I am and I know what I’m not – and what I’m not is a smart lawyer like Kelly kicking ass at work and as a single Mom. I’m sure as hell not like you, a war hero who saved innocent kids and a driven businessperson, kicking ass at life in general. I’m a fucking mess in so many ways, more than I can count. I’m thirty-four years old, and I don’t have anything to my name, and I sure as hell don’t have anything together in my life.”

  “Trish –”

  She shook her head impatiently, talked over him again. “I’m trying, though. I keep getting up every day and I try to be a bit better than I was the day before. I don’t know what else I can do, so I do that.” She looked at him, so open and vulnerable, he found himself holding his breath. “How am I any different than you in that way, Keegan? Different to anyone?”

  “Uhhh,” he said, surprised. “Well… you’re not.”

  “Right. I’m not. I have things about me that I wish desperately that I could change, or do better, or just not have as part of me at all. But I am what I am – I have my own story and it’s not a very good one. I’m a disaster area of a person and I’m working hard every day not to be, but I’m a work in progress and I’m not anywhere near done. So…” Trish held his gaze, really bore into his soul with those amazing eyes. "I need to ask you if you could imagine ever finding any of that kind of mess sexy?”

  Keegan had the wild urge to throw himself across the table and kiss this woman on her perfect little pouty mouth because, goddamn if she wasn’t the bravest, gutsiest little thing that he’d ever laid eyes on. The woman might not be book-smart but neither was he, and Keegan never placed too much emphasis on that when looking at a person. He looked for kindness, generosity, openness, genuineness. And this petite blonde with the astonishing eyes and the tough girl vibe had all of that. Had it in spades.

  “Know what’s sexy, darlin’?” he said.

  “No. What?”

  “Honesty. You being honest like that is the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”

  A look passed over her face, a flash of something disquieting, and he tensed.

  “You are bein’ honest, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, but there was a hint of hesitation. “I just – I haven’t told you everything. My past – I have things –”

  “It’s OK,” Keegan said gently. “We all have things… and ain’t that what coffee is for? To talk, to get to know each other? To tell the other person all the things, if and when we think we’re ready to say whatever they are?”

  She paused. “Well – actually, yeah.”

  “So.” Keegan gave her a slow smile, watched as she blushed a bit and smiled back tentatively. “Coffee?”

  “Yeah. Coffee it is.”

  Chapter 5

  “Hey, Kee. I’m safe and sound in Kansas. I just walked into my hotel room.”

  Keegan nodded at Colleen and she nodded back, taking the proffered oven mitts to get the rest of the brownies out of the oven. He walked out of the kitchen, headed for the emergency exit for some fresh air and privacy.

  “Good to hear,” he said to his sister, taking a deep breath of crisp autumn air. “Janie’s OK over at Ted’s?”

  “Yes. He picked her up bang on time this time, as usual.”

  “Thank fuck you have no ex drama, huh?”

  “Let me tell you what, I thank God every day that he’s a good, upstanding man and dedicated, involved father. I wish we could have kept things between us during our marriage as great as they are now, but we only got back to a relationship this good after we agreed to end things. Weird.”

  “Yeah, well, life happens. I like the guy and I’m thrilled that I still get to see him. I’d miss him if I had to take your side and cut him out of my life. I’d do it, of course, but still – it’s better for Janie this way.”

  “That is the truth.”

  He heard Kelly turn on a light and he grinned, knowing that she was in the bathroom checking her hair after the flight and taxi journey.

  “You look gorgeous,” he drawled. “Stop fussin’.”

  “Jesus, Kee. Last century, you’d have been burned at the stake, I swear.”

  “Right?” He rolled his neck, relieving some of the tension from the muscles there. “One of my many charms.”

  “Speaking of your charms…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I knew you were really callin’ to ask about her, Kel.”

  “Of course!” Kelly said merrily. “I like her, and I seriously hope that you didn’t screw it all up after I left and cleared the way for you.”

  “Nope. No screw-up.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Unbelievable, huh?”

  “Totally.”

  “Keep insultin’ me and I’m hangin’ up. You’ll never know how it went last night.”

  “Wait.” Kelly was now sitting on the bed, he knew from the tiny creak and the change in her breathing and voice as she switched positions. “Something happened last night? Not like you to move so fast, Kee.”

  “Nah, nothin’ like that happened last night. I asked her out and she said yes.”

  “Ohhh-kaaay,” Kelly said slowly, knowing that there was more, wondering if she had to brace for bad news in a second. Yet again. She sent up a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening. “And?”

  “And… I told her about my leg.”

  “Before asking her out?”

  “Yep. Well, kinda durin’.”

  “Holy Lord.” Kelly was stunned and delighted: this was an absolute damn result and it was about damn time. “She – she said she was cool with everything?”

  “Kel, she was so fuckin’ sweet about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just – I don’t know. I asked her if she could imagine findin’ me sexy with only one leg and a stump, and she told me that she’s not anythin’ like perfect herself. Said that she’s workin’ on gettin’ her life together and she’s failin’ most days, but she keeps tryin’. I just felt like – like she understands hard shit. Like she gets what it’s like to not be whole, or to not feel like who you were really meant to be when you started this life, but you’re gettin’ there and makin’ peace somehow. I felt like – like she got me, Kel. Got how hard I’ve worked and she admired it, wanted it for herself.”

  “Wow. That is – that’s something.”

  “It sure is. It’s a first.”

  “One hell of a first.
” Kelly released a breath, fervently thanked the merciful deity above for smiling on her brother. “I’m so thrilled for you.”

  “You like her?”

  “C’mon, Kee, you know I do.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “C’mon, Kel, you know that I know you have somethin’ to say. So say it and then it’s done. Let your minor in psychology loose on me ‘cause I know it’s dyin’ to.”

  “Well, you’ve already hinted at it when you told me what she said to you last night, about how she’s trying to het her life together and she’s finding it challenging. To be honest with you, I think her life has probably been tough for a while and it’s still not easy for her. I feel like she’s fighting an uphill battle and like she said, she fails most days, but I also think that she keeps showing up for her life and she wants it to be better. She’ll do a lot to make it better.” Kelly was silent for a few seconds, gathering a few final thoughts. “I think Trish has been in survival mode for a long time, Kee. Maybe for as long as she can remember. Maybe for so long, she doesn’t know anymore what it’s like to not be in it.”

  “Yeah. I get the same vibe from her,” Keegan said slowly. “I think she’s a wounded warrior under all that blonde prettiness.”

  “I think you’re right.” Kelly smiled to herself at Keegan’s choice of words: wounded warrior. Whenever she heard that term, she thought of him. “So where and when are you seeing her again?”

  “The Web Café on Wednesday at five.”

  “Wednesday?” Kelly said. “Don’t you have your group meetings on Wednesdays at seven? Didn’t Luke move them from Thursday to Wednesday, starting this week?”

  “Awww, shit,” Keegan said, slapping his hand over his face. “I forgot that change started this coming week.”

  “Well, no biggie. Call her and reschedule.”

  He paused. “Erm… I can’t do that. I’ll just skip the meeting for once.”

  “Why can’t you call her and explain?”

  “Because we didn’t exchange numbers.”

  “Just a sec, Kee.”

  Kelly got to her feet and went over to the minibar. She opened it, peered inside, grabbed the tiny bottle of white wine, wrenched the screw-top open. Despite it only being two-thirty p.m. on a Sunday, she drank the wine with relish, not bothering with a glass. Then she returned to the bed, leaned back against the huge pillows with her wine clutched tightly in her hand. Only then did she feel ready to say to her brother: