Keeping a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  Her phone buzzed.

  Ah. My experience only consists of proper good-nights, sorry to say.

  Without warning, the little devil whispering in her ear took control of her fingers, too. Well, then, you’ve missed out.

  A pause. So tell me what I’ve missed.

  Arousal washed over Devon in a surge of prickly heat. Her nipples tightened, the soft fabric of her T-shirt abrading the sensitive buds almost painfully.

  Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.

  My favorites are those times where you only think you’ve said good-night. When you start to walk away, but he doesn’t leave. He’s still there.

  And then what?

  Devon’s hands were trembling so bad she could barely type.

  And then you beckon to him, and he walks real slow in your direction, hands in his pockets...

  And then he kisses you?

  Devon squeezed her thighs together to ease the ache between them.

  Maybe. Or maybe we give each other one last hug. Maybe we sit outside and talk a little while longer because we simply aren’t ready to say good-night yet.

  Another long pause.

  Improper good-nights sound amazing.

  They can be. But proper ones that turn improper are even better. Night, Rhys.

  Night.

  Devon tossed her phone down and turned on her side to hug the lumpy pillow close.

  “He deserves to be somebody’s parking space,” she whispered into the dark, quiet room. “And you’re moving on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Knock it off, Shane.”

  Devon tensed at Matt’s growl, but Shane laughed and bopped him on the head with the balloon again. “Make me.”

  The other guys sprawled about the team room watched idly, smirks on their faces, while they waited for their commanding officer to come in and give them one final briefing. The past couple of days had been spent prepping gear—cleaning guns, replacing worn-out stuff with new, shopping, packing and repacking.

  About all that was left was to get on that plane and go.

  Shane had found a bag of balloons stashed in a cabinet, most likely remnants of someone’s past care package, and he’d been amusing himself by blowing them up, tying them closed and blitzing Matt on the back of the head with them.

  It was annoying, it was childish, but maybe only Devon could see the desperation behind it.

  Pay attention to me. Talk to me. Please.

  Devon’s eyes widened in alarm when Matt slid his combat knife from the sheath on his leg. He held it lightly in his hand beneath the table, and when Shane dangled the balloon above his head again, with a lightning fast strike he jerked the knife up and burst it with a loud pop.

  “Oooh!” the men hooted, slapping their thighs as pieces of balloon exploded everywhere.

  Smudge held his finger to his lips and quietly tossed Shane a bottle of water. Grinning, Shane stretched the mouth of the next balloon over the bottle and emptied the contents inside. He lifted it over Matt’s head and brushed it back and forth lightly across his hair.

  The guys leaned forward expectantly. Devon squeezed her eyes shut while Matt, oblivious, readied his knife...

  Sploosh!

  The room erupted in laughter.

  Matt’s chair flew backward, and the next thing Devon knew, Shane was being slammed against the nearest wall so hard the pictures hanging on it crashed to the floor in a tinkle of glass.

  “You fuckin’ clown,” Matt snarled, getting up in Shane’s face. “Fuck you.” His fists twisted in Shane’s T-shirt as their eyes met, the air crackling with a tension so thick Devon could almost see it.

  “Matt,” Shane finally whispered. “Please—”

  The words seemed to galvanize Matt into action. He shoved himself violently away from Shane with a snarled, “Gah. I wish you would just leave me alone.”

  The expression of hurt and defeat that spread across Shane’s face broke Devon’s heart. He dropped his hands to his sides. “Yeah, okay,” he said flatly. “Leaving you alone.”

  Then he was gone.

  Clutching his hair, Matt spun to face the room full of wide-eyed SEALs.

  “Uh, Soup, what’s going on?” Smudge asked cautiously. “You gay for that dude, or what?”

  Oh, shit.

  Adrenaline shot through Devon as she readied herself to stand in support of him, but Matt barked out a mirthless laugh. “Gay for him? No, Smudge, I’m not gay for him. I’m just gay, all right?” He spread his arms and shouted, “That’s right, everyone. I’m gay! Queer as a three-dollar bill! A homo—” Matt broke off, horror in his eyes as he realized what he’d done.

  The room went silent, everybody staring at everyone else, until suddenly Aaron slapped the table. “Finally. Jesus Christ, it’s about time.”

  It was like a dam broke.

  “Took ya long enough, Soup.”

  “Yeah, what took you so long?”

  Matt looked shell-shocked. “What? You knew?” he croaked. “How?”

  “Soup, hate to break it to ya, but we’ve pretty much known since BUD/S.” Aaron grinned at him. “Worst-kept secret of our class.”

  Matt could only stand there, his mouth flapping open and closed like a fish.

  “Well, hold the phone.” Grizz straightened from his lean against the wall, and everyone fell silent. He was the most senior guy, the one with the most combat experience. What he said and did set the tone for the entire platoon.

  Matt paled visibly as Grizz approached, but he stood his ground, shoulders straight, arms at his sides.

  “What I want to know,” Grizz rumbled, “is where’s the trust here?”

  Matt went still. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  The mood in the room took a turn as faces darkened and lips firmed.

  “Yeah. How come you didn’t trust us, Soup?”

  “We’re goin’ into battle together, man. Can’t trust us with something so important?”

  “I get not telling other people, but us?”

  “Guys, I—” Matt held his hands up as chairs scraped back. He edged toward the door. “I’m really sorry. It’s just—”

  “Just what?” Grizz’s tone was easy, conversational, but Devon wasn’t fooled in the least. “You know everything there is to know about me, about Smudge, about Maddox, but you think it’s okay to hide something like the fact you’re gay from your platoon brothers? You don’t trust us to have your back? No one will dare give you shit with us around.”

  “But I—but—”

  Devon winced in sympathy. The military as a whole was a very conservative organization, and in this hypermasculine environment, she could understand Matt’s reluctance to possibly being seen as weaker, lesser.

  Yeah, she could definitely relate to that.

  Matt kept edging toward the door as the guys advanced on him. Suddenly, in a last ditch effort to escape, he made a break for it. With a roar, his teammates took off after him. Devon ran into the hallway just in time to see Smudge tackle and take him down, hard.

  He was wrestled to his back, struggling, and Grizz yelled at Devon to throw him some duct tape.

  She hesitated, torn between following orders and not wanting to be a party to this, when Rhys took the decision out of her hands and tossed Grizz some tape.

  Within seconds they had Matt trussed up like a calf at a rodeo. The guys lifted him over their heads and bore him off. Devon hurried after them, alarmed to see they were heading toward the building with the huge training pool. Were they going to throw him in all tied up? Luckily, the pool was empty of trainees at the moment, and with loud whoops, the SEALs tossed Matt unceremoniously to the decking.

  “Oh, my God.” Devon clapped to her mouth as the men started stripping, and all she could do was stand frozen in place, captivated by the sight of so many hard bodies—young, strong men at the peak of physical fitness. And Rhys...

  He’d gotten naked right along with them. Devon gulped, tracing her eyes over firm buttocks and
long, muscular legs. Her cheeks grew hot, her palms damp.

  Turn around, she begged him silently, twisting her fingers into her pants. Turn around.

  She had to see. She wanted to see.

  Rhys bent to yank Matt’s boots off, his wide stance treating her to a glimpse of his balls. They hung low between his legs, round and—

  What the hell are you doing?

  Hot, liquid shame raced through her. Rhys didn’t know she was watching him. If she were a man, and this was a group of women, what she was doing would be a gross violation. Checking out Rhys’s naked body without his knowledge was no different.

  Hurriedly she backed around the corner out of view and leaned against the wall to bury her face in her hands. What the hell was wrong with her?

  The yelling of the guys echoed in the cavernous room. Devon had to see what was happening. She crept back around the corner and put her hands over her eyes, widening her fingers into slits.

  Peering through them, she saw Matt, still trussed up, lying on what looked like a raft. He was being towed to and fro in the water by grinning, shouting men, some of whom came up to smack his ass or kiss him ostentatiously on the cheek. Slumping in relief, Devon tiptoed away while Matt’s teammates swam naked with and around him, showing him without words that they were comfortable with him, that they loved and accepted him for who he was.

  Navy SEAL–style.

  * * *

  Loud voices in the hallway made Devon look up from the tactical magazine she’d been perusing. The guys tumbled into the team room, hair damp, clothes sticking to them in spots. They were hyper, laughing and shouting.

  “Where’s Soup?” she demanded, but nobody would answer her, too busy helping themselves to Rip-Its and handfuls of animal crackers from a big jar on the counter.

  “No, seriously, the CO is getting here in a few. Where’s Matt?”

  Still no answer, and Devon noticed Shane lurking along the periphery of the group, pale and silent. She hurried over to him.

  “Have you seen Matt?” she asked quietly.

  He gave an indifferent shrug. “Why would I have seen him? He wants me to leave him alone.”

  Oh, honey. What he wants is you, so badly it hurts, but he doesn’t know what to do about it or how to fix it.

  “He’s a dick,” she agreed. “But—”

  “But nothing.” Shane’s voice was hard. “I’m done, all right? When you see him, you can tell him that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a remoteness in his eyes that made Devon ache for Matt.

  The guys still refused to be of help, blithely assuring her that Soup was fine and he’d be along any minute.

  “He knows where he needs to be and what time he needs to be there,” Smudge mumbled around a mouthful of cookies. “Relax, Mom.”

  Gritting her teeth in annoyance, and wanting to see for herself, Devon hurried from the team room and back toward the training tank. As she rounded the corner of the building, she almost bumped into Matt, his soaking-wet clothes now clinging to him like a second skin.

  “Hey,” she exclaimed in relief. “Just coming to look for you.”

  Matt glanced over her shoulder as if looking for someone. “How mad is Shane?”

  Devon saw no need to sugarcoat it. “Pretty mad.”

  “I know. I majorly fucked up. Again.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you have any idea if he’s planning to come to the goodbye party tonight? Maybe I can try to talk to him there.”

  A bunch of the guys, along with their wives and girlfriends, were planning to meet at a local team bar that night to toast the platoon off on deployment in style.

  She put her hand on Matt’s biceps and squeezed. “I haven’t heard him say anything, I’m sorry. But we really do need to get going. The CO will be here any minute.”

  As Devon started to move away, Matt burst out, his voice hoarse, “Thanks. For coming to find me. For being such a good friend.”

  There were tears shimmering in his dark eyes, and with a small exclamation, Devon moved into his arms. He clutched her tightly, his entire body shuddering with cold and emotion. “What am I gonna do?” he choked out. “I’m gonna lose him, Devon. Aren’t I?”

  She gripped his shoulders.

  “You need to talk to him,” she said firmly. “None of this alpha-male posturing bullshit I keep seeing from you. Get humble. Get real with him. Tell him you love him and that you know you fucked up.”

  “And then what?” Matt asked thickly. “Then what?”

  “Then it’s up to him. But at least you’ll know you did all you could. Okay?”

  Back in the team room, Matt was greeted with middle fingers and hoots, but most everyone came up to scrub their knuckles over his wet hair and clap him on the back. The only exception was Shane, who sat stone-faced in the corner.

  The CO arrived with little fanfare, and for the next two hours, they sat through a death-by-PowerPoint presentation that went over the mission parameters and a refreshment of the Rules of Engagement.

  Devon perked up at the sight of the outpost they’d be working from, which was set in the heart of a Pashtun village.

  “The SEALs have a lot of history with this village,” the CO said quietly. “Not all of it good. I trust this deployment will be different.” He turned to Devon. “Ms. Lowe, so happy to have you on board. Your language and cultural skills will be more helpful than you know.”

  Devon flushed with pleasure.

  At the end of the meeting, they all dispersed to get ready for the party. Devon showered and slipped into her favorite dress, a simple eggplant-colored sheath. The dark purple brought out the cool undertones of her pale skin and complemented her glossy brown hair. Wearing it always gave her a boost of confidence, and tonight she’d really need one.

  She applied her makeup with an understated hand, just a hint of mascara, some lip liner and a blush matte lipstick.

  As she was pulling on a pair of strappy black heels, a quiet knock sounded at her door. She opened it, surprised to see Rhys standing there.

  “Hi,” he said huskily, his green eyes warm with admiration. “You look beautiful.”

  So did he. He wore a pair of black slacks and a sea-green polo shirt, the color of which made his eyes glow like jewels. With his short red hair and the slightest of five o’clock shadows on his sculpted jaw, he was all kinds of sexy.

  Devon’s knees went a little weak as she tried not to think about seeing him naked.

  “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

  “Oh, you didn’t get my text?” A look of anxiety crossed his face. “I thought we could ride over together.”

  Devon picked up her phone and saw the text.

  Ride with me? I promise you a proper good-night.

  His cheeks turned pink when she chuckled. “I gladly accept.”

  She excused herself to the bedroom to get her handbag, into which she slipped a small penknife. Spraying on one last spritz of perfume, Devon was ready.

  They walked in silence to Rhys’s truck. He unlocked her side first and opened the door for her, the small courtesy making her smile.

  The drive to the team bar was short and sweet. The streets were crowded, and Rhys had to park several blocks away. It felt natural to take his arm as they strolled, and Devon hugged his muscular biceps, only letting go when the entrance to the bar came into view.

  Rhys put his hand lightly on the small of her back as he steered her toward the door.

  The inside of the bar was raucous and loud, with team guys downing shots and beers, playing pool. Their significant others were grouped together, chatting and laughing while they sipped on glasses of wine.

  A wave of shyness went through Devon. How would they greet her? Would they view her as a threat? When she’d worked with the transportation battalion, she’d endured a few drunk “Stay away from my husband” messages before their deployments.

  The women’s looks were assessing, but friendly enough, and Devon put her shyness firmly aside when a smiling Black woma
n detached herself from the group and approached her, hand out.

  “Hi, I’m Sarah Maddox, Aaron’s wife. You must be Devon?”

  Devon gulped. Sarah. Lani’s best friend. Steeling herself, Devon nodded and smiled. “That’s me.”

  “Lovely to meet you at last,” Sarah exclaimed. “Aaron’s told me so much about you. Girls!” She beckoned the other women over. “This is Devon, a very brave soul.”

  They perched around a table together, the wives peppering Devon with questions about her job, their interest sincere. As they chatted, Devon relaxed in increments. No one seemed threatened by her, no one looked at her with dislike or suspicion, even Sarah, who had reason to, thanks to her husband and his damn pictures.

  Devon studied her. Her hair was a mass of curls, her brown skin flawless, figure full and curvy. She was also warm, open and friendly.

  As the wine flowed, the conversation grew more bawdy, turning to a recent sex toy party that’d been hosted by Savannah, a petite blonde married to one of the younger team guys.

  “Battery-operated boyfriends for the win,” she declared. “Or else it’d be a long four months for us, ladies.”

  “No shit. I’ve been wearing his ass out the last couple of days. He even begged for mercy last night!”

  “Oh, how about I send you a care package, Devon,” Savannah said wickedly at one point. “What size would you like? Or how about a clit tickler or G-spot massager? What’s your fave?”

  “Oh, G-spot massager for sure.”

  The group hooted in approval.

  Devon had forgotten how nice it was to spend time in the company of other women. She told them about the challenges of Spartan desert living, while they regaled her with stories of ER visits, pregnancies and births handled alone with their men out of touch, out of reach. They talked about loneliness, and temptation, and the marriages that hadn’t made it.

  It was raw, it was real, and it was exactly what Devon needed.

  “Oh, hello.” Sarah straightened, her eyes fixed on the front door. “Hottie alert.”

  The women all looked in that direction, and immediately eyes widened and mouths went slack.

  Devon chuckled. “Must be Shane.” Her back was to the door, but by their reactions, who else could it be?